RippleClan: Moon 63
Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Clammask have found a way past their grief. Meanwhile, everyone poisoned by the poorly cooked rabbit recovers.
[Image ID: Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Clammask sit together, with - CONDITION: GRIEVING (X3) under them. Under Drumpaw, it says - CONDITION: FOOD POISONING, SHOCK. Under Rapidleaf, it says - CONDITION: FOOD POISONING, SHOCK, WATER IN LUNGS. Honeypaw, Elmsprout, and Leatherpaw are together, with - CONDITION: FOOD POISONING (X3) under them.]
(Oilstripe: 67, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)
(Carnationspeckle: 65, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)
(Clammask: 57, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)
(Drumpaw: 11, trans male, caretaker apprentice, loyal, moss-ball hunter)
(Rapidleaf: 81, female, warrior, lonesome, prophecy interpreter)
(Honeypaw: 11, male, cleric apprentice, daring, has lots of ideas)
(Elmsprout: 30, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)
(Leatherpaw: 11, male, warrior apprentice, confident, avid play-fighter, confident with words)
Clammask and Lemmy both announce their pregnancies.
[Image ID: Clammask and Lemmy both sit with + CONDITION: PREGNANT under them.]
---
It was a day after Lemmyâs pregnancy announcement that Clammask entered the medicine den with complaints of weight gain and nausea. Thank StarClan that Honeypaw had been out collecting herbs with the caretakers, because Clammask would not have been able to meet her sonâs eyes as she later left with Troutpoolâs diagnosis.
Perhaps she shouldnât have been surprised. Halibutdusk may not have been a tom, but they had been born one. There was no reason they couldnât get Clammask pregnant. Yet she had forgotten that, too busy finding a new beginning with playful flirting and a few fun outings (and one particular night where Clammask said goodbye to the pain and vengeance in her heart and oh StarClan was that when it happened oh no). It wasnât supposed to be so serious. It wasnât supposed to go this way.
It still felt like summer as Clammask squinted in the brilliance of sunhigh. Lemmy and Mosspounce had a crowd around them, eager to share tongues. While Lemmy mostly kept to Mosspounce, Splashpaw, and the codekeepers, she chatted with her Clanmates with the skill and grace of a mediator, letting everyone know that she felt well and would nest in the nursery when she was ready. Clammask had already had a litter once, why wasnât she as confident as Lemmy? Why did she have to feel like a scared kit?
Spikecrash was one of the cats sharing tongues with Lemmy. Clammask caught bits of their conversation, mixing their old faith in the Other Side with their new homeâs focus on StarClan. Clammask lingered at the edge of the crowd, searching for the right words to draw Spikecrashâs attention. She didnât have to say anything, luckily; Spikecrash glanced around camp as Lemmy listened to Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle share pregnancy tips. Thank StarClan she saw the fear in Clammaskâs silver eyes.
Spikecrash crept around her Clanmates, making her way to Clammask. No one seemed to notice the pair, much to Clammaskâs relief. She flicked her ears toward the camp exit. Spikecrash nodded and led her outside.Â
Autumn had smacked RippleClan upside the head in the last few days. Before Clammask realized it, the trees that lined camp to the west had exploded in tortoiseshell color. The wind coming off the ocean was no longer pleasantly cool, but cold enough to make the golden molly shiver. The bugs had gone silent and heat no longer pushed against Clammaskâs lungs; rather, the cold ocean air soothed her tense heart.Â
Not by much, however.
âIâve lived here long enough to know when someone needs a mediator and doesnât know what to say,â Spikecrash sighed as the pair left camp. âWhat do you need to talk about?â
âLetâs find somewhere we wonât be overheard first,â Clammask gulped.
Clammask and Spikecrash entered the forest. The trees and falling leaves would provide some privacy, just in case the sunhigh patrol wandered past. Spikecrash tried not to stare as they walked further and further from camp. Clammask wasnât sure if her nausea was from her nerves or the life growing inside her. She tried to soak in the crisp, early autumn smell, but the remnants of summer and the weight in her chest made her nose-blind.
âI saw you leaving the medicine den,â Spikecrash said when they were far enough away from camp for Clammask to stop. âDid Troutpool have bad news for you?â Could she even define what was happening as âbad newsâ? She loved being pregnant with her sons, after all. Maybe if this was another litter with Scrubmask, she would be yowling the news across camp, celebrating with Lemmy, laughing at jokes about stealing attention from the former Witch Hunter.
âIâm pregnant,â Clammask said, the word dying part-way out of her mouth. Spikecrashâs face did not reveal her reaction; instead, she cocked her head slightly and studied Clammask, the way her whiskers fell and her eyes looked hollow.
âThis doesnât sound like something you planned,â Spikecrash noted.
âI was still testing how I felt about Halibutdusk,â Clammask moaned, pacing around Spikecrash without realizing it. âI didnât want to have as serious a relationship as I had with Scrubmask at the start, we started a family as soon as we became mates, I only wanted to move on! Halibutdusk talked to me when they realized they werenât a tom, they didnât like what it meant to be a tom, how will they feel knowing they sired kits? I havenât told my sons Iâve been seeing them! Theyâll think Iâm betraying their mother! Does Halibutdusk want kits? Do I want more kits? My sons havenât even graduated! What if I lose another kit?â Spikecrash threw out her paw and stopped Clammaskâs spiral.
âOne thought at a time,â Spikecrash purred. âIt seems youâre nervous about a serious relationship with Halibutdusk.â
âIâm not ready for that,â Clammask whined, sitting. Her tail stirred the leaves around her. âHalibutdusk has always been there for me, but⊠I donât know, this is so much more than I was expecting!â
âAnd you think theyâll be upset theyâve sired kits with you?â Spikecrash asked, nodding.
âWhen Drumpaw told me he was a tom, he went on and on about how much the idea of pregnancy made him sick. Does Halibutdusk feel that way about siring kits? Does it make them feel wrong?â
âHave you asked them?â
âI didnât want to be serious, why would I ask them that?â Spikecrash rolled onto her back, signaling her surrender at Clammaskâs suddenly curled lip. Clammask smoothed her face.
âAll Iâm saying is that if you havenât asked them about that topic, you canât know how theyâll feel,â Spikecrash explained, face upside down. âThe same goes for your sons. Paleseed deals with grief more than I do, but from what Iâve seen of your kits, theyâve each found their way forward from Scrubmaskâs death. They might be happy for you.â
âMaybe. I donât know what to think right now.â
âDo you want a practical response or an emotional one?â Spikecrash got back to her feet. Clammask thought it through, fur growing hot.Â
âPractical,â she eventually decided.
âDo you want to have these kits or not?â Spikecrash asked. Clammaskâs stomach suddenly flipped.
âMove,â she managed to gulp just before she threw up. Spikecrash skittered up a fir. Clammask shivered as the taste settled in her mouth. Her nose curled at the stench of her own bile. Spikecrash jumped from the fir to a tree behind Clammask before she risked climbing down. Leaves fluttered with Spikecrashâs fall. Spikecrash groomed Clammaskâs neck as the pregnant molly shivered.Â
What did Clammask want? Forget Halibutdusk, forget her sons, forget Scrubmask and whatever her spirit must think of her. Did Clammask want these kits or not?
âI want these kits,â Clammask finally whimpered. âI want to be a mother again. I want my sons to have more kin. I want to raise a litter that has two parents at their graduation ceremonies.â
âAlright then,â Spikecrash purred, touching Clammaskâs nose despite the stench in her mouth. âI can help you tell Halibutdusk.â
âWhether weâre actually in love or not,â Clammask gulped, forcing herself to take a deep breath, âIâm raising these kits, and Iâll help Halibut be a part of their lives. Theyâll be a good influence.â
âLetâs get you some water back at camp,â Spikecrash suggested. âWe can wait until you feel a bit better before you tell anyone else about this.â
âIâd like that,â Clammask said with a sniffle. She let her paw dangle near her belly.
Her four sons were big personalities in their own rights. Who would these lovely kits become?
(Clammask: 57, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)
(Lemmy: 39, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)
(Spikecrash: 38, female, mediator, good speaker, lore keeper)
Terracottafoot helps Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick dream of the Dark Forest during Harvest Moon.
[Image ID: Weedfoot, Darkkick, and Paleseed stare down Newtstream, who is a Dark Forest spirit. Newtstream says, âI just want to spend my damnation in peace, and Autumnstar wants me to help make his curse worse.â]
---
This Harvest Moon was shaping up to be a lively one. As RippleClan settled around the Leaderâs Stone in the early dawn light, setting up the decor of black pelts and with the other Clans, everyone found something to start their day with. Clammask, Lemmy, and Oilstripe joined a gaggle of queens, pregnant and nursing, all bonding over nursery experiences while some of Halibutduskâs warrior friends teased them for their sudden relationship change. Mosspounce argued with the LynxClan artisans and caretakers over how to construct a temporary stove while Tempestshade and Elmsprout eagerly brought out the massive fish Carnationspeckle and Darkkick caught the night before. Rabbitjoy and Rattlepelt reunited with their artisan friends and explained their plans for RippleClanâs show about Leatherwaste and their careless deeds. Rapidleaf explained to her old Clanmates that no, she didnât feel comfortable returning to LynxClan when her only living kin were distant RippleClan apprentices. Downstar happily shared tongues with Gorgestar and Ospreystar while Gentlestar and Eelstar (who bore a wrap over his nose) made sure everyone was settling in for the day.
And Paleseed? She was preparing for the fight of her life.
Most of the clerics were setting up spiritual protections around the clearing, guarding the five Clans from the Spirits of Shadow that would roam the territories that day. Terracottafoot, however, stood far from the rest of the Clans with Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick.Â
They had a jar of black dye on one side and a pile of early autumn leaves on the other. They rubbed their paw in the dye and gently nudged Weedfootâs chin up. Terracottafoot ran their dyed paw from the base of Weedfootâs chin to the center of her chest, a long black stripe like burnt meat. They did the same to Paleseed and Darkkick.
âNow I just need a spark to ignite these leaves, and weâll begin,â Terracottafoot gulped, rubbing their black paw into the grass. âWhen you fall asleep, your souls will be transported to the Dark Forest. As many of the spirits there wander the forest tonight, you shouldnât encounter as many enemies as you typically would. The burning of the leaves acts as a calling ritual. When you enter the Dark Forest, Autumnstar will feel called to you, even if he doesnât realize it. Youâll find each other eventually.â Darkkick nodded along. Did she know of this ritual from her cleric days? What sort of dark powers did clerics hold in their hearts?
âWhat do we do when we find Autumnstar?â Paleseed asked.
âMake him stop hurting his Clan,â Terracottafoot sighed. âConvince him, fight him, do whatever you have to do. If heâs not stopped, the older generations of AshClan will all be dead by winterâs end.â Paleseed glanced back at the AshClan delegation. Save for Eelstar and Barkfur, every AshClan cat present was no more than a few years old. Would Paleshade leave them to die? No, Paleseed couldnât keep asking what her namesake would do. But that was easier said than done.
âIf Autumnstar is powerful enough to project a curse on AshClan,â Weedfoot muttered, âheâll be a formidable foe in the Dark Forest.â
âHe might have powers,â Paleseed said, âbut heâll still think like himself, wonât he? If we canât outstrength him, we can outsmart him.â Hmm. Paleshade wasnât much of a trickster. She would just give some grand speech and take Autumnstar down, if Weedfootâs stories had any truth to them. Maybe Paleseed could bring more to the battle than a helpless mediator ready to be slaughtered.
âIâll be right back,â Terracottafoot said, nodding with more enthusiasm than Paleseed had ever seen in the young cat. They hurried toward the main crowd, who continued to bicker about the stove as the sun battered the trees and fought its way into the clearing.
âIt might be selfish to say this,â Weedfoot gulped, resting her tail on Paleseed, âbut Iâm glad youâll be with us. I could use your support. Just promise me youâll run if things get too dire.â Paleseed hesitated. Leave her mother and Darkkick to fight off Spirits of Shadow?
âThat isnât a request,â Darkkick huffed. âI still think you should stay here. The Dark Forest is no place for a non-combatant.â
âI really think I can help,â Paleseed said, raising her tail with false confidence. âIf StarClan saw me with you, thereâs something I can do to stop Autumnstar, something the two of you canât.â To her surprise, Paleseed found herself believing her own words.
âYou put more faith in what StarClan chooses to say than I do,â Darkkick muttered, fluffing her coat against a sudden breeze, âbut so be it. I donât doubt thereâs something you could bring to this patrol.â Paleseedâs heather-blue eyes brightened at the compliment. Darkkick rolled her eyes, earning a chuckle from Weedfoot. At that moment, Terracottafoot slunk around the Leaderâs Stone with a glowing stick in their jaws. Out of sight of most of the crowd, they ran back to Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick. They angled the stick against the leaves. The breeze sent sparks onto the dry tinder. The orange leaves began to glow.
âLay down, quickly!â Terracottafoot ordered, setting down the stick.Â
âWait,â Weedfoot huffed as smoke drifted from the leaves. âHow are we supposed to get out of the Dark Forest once our job is done?â
âDo you know how you wake yourself up from a bad dream?â Terracottafoot grunted, nudging Paleseedâs flank down. âItâs just like that. Hurry, the leaves wonât burn long!â The three RippleClan cats laid around the smoldering leaves. Terracottafoot sat beside the tiny fire, eyes closed tight. It was hard to imagine falling asleep with the fire in her blood, but Paleseed closed her eyes as well, praying that the Ashes in the Water were standing beside her, guarding her spirit as it shifted from one world to another.
Paleseed thought she would feel the transition. She was literally traveling to another level of existence, why would she not notice when she left the clearing and entered the Place of No Stars itself? But she still felt the small warmth of the burning leaves. She still heard the happy crowd, just beginning to play a few instruments to welcome in the festive day. She could even smell Carnationspeckleâs fish! So how would she know when she arrived?
âOpen your eyes, Paleseed,â Weedfoot whispered. âWeâre here.â
When Paleseed obeyed her mother, the warmth and music and scent of freshly-caught fish evaporated. The sound of the Harvest Moon still rang in her ears, as though occurring deep within the ocean. Yet the grass was gray, like life and light had been sucked out from the roots. Paleseed looked up. Barren branches criss-crossed over a black sky. A huge, yellow full moon watched the land like a vengeful eye. There were no stars in that black ocean, no glow to the world but the harsh, biting moonlight that refracted off the fog. Said fog clung to the ground, nipping at Paleseedâs paws as she stood. The scent of wood-rot and fungus filled her lungs.Â
The Dark Forest was indeed that; dark, cold, absent of all the good in the world. Not a single conifer needle or leaf clung to the trees around the three RippleClan cats; instead, every branch poked and prodded at its neighbor for more room. There wasnât even leaf litter to show there had ever been a summer in that barren land. Instead, mushrooms claimed the trees as their territory; flat, wide things of white and tan and brown. Even more mushrooms whose names Paleseed could not hope to guess sprouted from mounds poking out of the fog. Those mushrooms were the only life in the land. Bramble bushes speckled the shadowy landscape, thorns reaching out like fangs. Paleseedâs claws dug into the dry, red earth as a caterwaul echoed from somewhere deep within the forest.Â
âThe stories were right about this place,â Darkkick scoffed, shaking out the mist and dust collecting on her fur. Paleseed instinctively pressed into Weedfoot. All three cats gathered around each other, taking in the cursed trees and the sharp shadows. Autumnstar was out there, somewhere, instinctively drawn toward the living cats, unaware of the fate that awaited him.
âWhere do we start?â Paleseed gulped.
âYou could start by leaving, if youâre smart.â Weedfoot and Darkkick jumped between Paleseed and the strangerâs voice. Paleseed followed the sound up into a dead pine. A black, mud-like ooze dripped from the ginger molly lounging on the branches overhead. A solid, glistening layer of ice covered her extremities and dulled her monotone fur.Â
âNewtstream,â Darkkick growled. She soothed her bristling fur and huffed, âItâs alright. Sheâll pose no threat to us.â
âTerracottafoot sent you here, didnât they?â Newtstream huffed. She jumped out of the tree and landed beside Darkkick. âThe black marks on your chests, the sudden arrival on Harvest Moon⊠yes, itâs like I taught them. Why send RippleClan cats, however?â
âWeâre here to stop Autumnstarâs curse,â Weedfoot explained, eyes stuck on Newtstreamâs black goop.
âYou were trying to save your Clanmates when you were alive,â Paleseed gulped, taking a risky step closer to the Dark Forest spirit. âThereâs no reason for you to stop us.â
âWhat makes you think Iâm trying to stop you?â Newtstream scoffed. âIâm just trying to spare you. It may be Harvest Moon, but deadly things still wander these woods.â
âWe wonât be here any longer than we have to be,â Weedfoot said. âWeâll take care of Autumnstar and go.â
âI canât say Iâm too surprised to see you here,â Darkkick couldnât help but grumble. âYou did spit in StarClanâs face, after all.â
âI didnât do enough to forgive myself, apparently,â Newtstream sighed, looking at the starless sky. âI just want to spend my damnation in peace, and Autumnstar wants me to help make his curse worse. The only thing keeping him from becoming as terrible as the worst Spirits of Shadow is his hurt ego. He feels his Clanmates, that StarClan himself, gave up on him and the virtues he tried to uphold. He could have led AshClan for many more moons if he let himself be wrong about your Clan. Instead, he spreads his frost across the Dark Forest and curses his Clanmatesâ names. Heâll turn you into ice when he finds you.â As Newtstream monologued, Paleseed examined the dry grass around her. The entire forest looked like the aftermath of a great fire, destroying everything green in the world.
âFrostâŠâ Paleseed muttered, looking back at the icy death wounds covering Newtstreamâs extremities. âAutumnstarâs frostbite scars were some of his most famous characteristics. Thatâs why his curse is some form of eternal frostbite. The power of the Dark Forest exacerbates that legend. But frost has a big weakness. If⊠yes, if we donât draw the attention of Spirits of ShadowâŠâ Paleseed ran her paw against the harsh, rugged bark of a dead tree.
âWhat are you thinking, Paleseed?â Weedfoot asked. Paleseed turned back to the group, her eyes the brightest thing in the land.
âI have a plan to take care of Autumnstar,â Paleseed said.
(Paleseed: 29, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)
(Weedfoot: 112, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)
(Darkkick: 123, trans female, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)
[Image ID: Downstar (now in an elder sprite), Rattlepelt, and Splashpaw look at Gentlestar, a brown tabby with a maple seed accessory, who introduces Asterpaw, a gray apprentice. Gentlestar says, âWeâve decided that if Asterpaw is going to give prey to every loner and kittypet he comes across, he would do better in the Clan thatâs more supportive of that behavior.â Under Asterpaw, it says NEW PLAYER: ASTERPAW, 10, MALE, THOUGHTFUL, HAS LOTS OF IDEAS.]
---
As Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick dreamed unbeknownst to all but a trusted few, Downstar cheered with the rest of the Clans as WheatClan finished their performance on Shardlings, the broken pieces of destroyed souls fulfilling dark desires on loop. The young apprentices were a great decision to play the part of the Shardlings, even if they lacked an artisanâs acting skills. For who could get mad at excited youths performing with their friends and kin?
âMaybe we should have asked you to help with our Leatherwaste performance, huh Splashpaw?â Rattlepelt, who sat near Downstar, laughed to the purple-ribboned apprentice.
âI suppose you should have,â Splashpaw laughed, âbut Iâm almost a historian. I donât think I would have the same effect as the six moon old apprentices.â Someone on the other side of the swarm of Clan cats called for a race. Suddenly, dozens of furry forms shoved past Downstar, ignorant of her position.Â
âA lot of energy, considering how close we are to sunhigh,â Downstar chuckled, smoothing out her disturbed pelt. âIâm ready for the feast.â
âIt smells amazing,â Splashpaw purred, tasting the air. âWe have this every Harvest Moon?â
âHopefully youâll have a lot more of these feasts in the years to come,â Rattlepelt chirped, picking up her fox pelt from where the excited crowd had shoved it off her back.
âDownstar! A moment, if you would!â Gentlestar weaved through the excited crowd, her maple seed necklace bouncing on her chest. The bright sun made her brown pelt look yellow. A small gray tom followed her, staring at Downstar.
âYour Clan put on an excellent show, Gentlestar,â Downstar purred as the WheatClan leader approached.
âSo did yours,â Gentlestar chirped, touching noses with the RippleClan leader. âHopefully we can share tongues some more later today. First, though, I wanted to introduce you to Asterpaw.â The gray apprentice stood beside Gentlestar, studying the three RippleClan cats before him. His fur was choppy, with a few small tabby markings along his face and tail. He was sleek compared to most WheatClan cats, who enjoyed the extra fat from their various herbs and crops in the bountiful moons.
âGreetings,â he said quietly, nodding to each RippleClan cat in turn.
âAre you a new apprentice?â Splashpaw asked. Asterpaw shifted back.
âHeâs been an apprentice for over a season now,â Gentlestar explained, âbut he hasnât been allowed at Gatherings. I heard you used to be a troublemaker in your youth, Downstar. Asterpaw would want to challenge you for that title. Heâs been the subject of three trials in the span of four moons.â
âWhat in StarClanâs name have you been doing?â Rattlepelt gasped as Asterpaw straightened up against the shocked expressions of those around him.
âIâve been helping cats,â he huffed.
âAsterpaw has been caught numerous times stealing WheatClan resources and giving them to the southern farm cats,â Gentlestar said. A curt glare from the brown leader shut Asterpaw up. His yellow eyes screamed to talk back. âNo matter how many times weâve explained to Asterpaw that our prey and tools belong to us, heâll still give what he can away.âÂ
âThatâs not something a leader would usually admit to another,â Downstar noted as Asterpaw grew stiff as wood, fighting back the urge to defend himself. âThat sort of theft is a serious issue, Asterpaw.â The flood inside of the gray WheatClan tom broke free.
âI donât always take things from camp!â he cried. âI make some of my own stuff, too. The farm cats have their own society to the south, and they donât have our freedom to act with humans constantly watching them. If theyâre struggling to hunt for themselves, I give them a spare mouse or my share of a meal. I only want to take care of them!â
âExcept youâre supposed to take care of your Clanmates, not those outside WheatClan,â Gentlestar reminded him. This time, Asterpaw did not back down, glaring back at Gentlestar with righteous strength. Gentlestar simply sighed, looked back to Downstar, and said, âWeâve decided that if Asterpaw is going to give prey to every loner and kittypet he comes across, he would do better in the Clan thatâs more supportive of that behavior.â
âWait,â Rattlepelt said, âdo you mean you want Asterpaw to join RippleClan?â
âHeâs shown WheatClan that he cannot be trusted,â Gentlestar sighed. âThe only other option after so many repeated offenses in so little time was exile.â
âRippleClan loves to help outsiders, right?â Asterpaw said, stepping away from Gentlestar. âYouâve invited a dozen loners to join your ranks at this point. You understand what Iâm trying to do.â
âWeâre kind to loners, yes,â Downstar said, glancing toward Lemmy in the gaggle of queens, âbut weâre still wise with our resources. Thereâs a border between helping others and hurting your Clan. If you want to be a RippleClan cat, you need to understand that.â
âIf you can teach him that lesson, WheatClan will be impressed,â Gentlestar said. âBeyond his issues, Asterpaw is a good caretaker and minds the camp well. While we will miss him, he and the Clan all agree this is for the best.â Asterpaw nodded along.
âAnother caretaker apprentice from another ClanâŠâ Downstar hummed. She couldnât help but chuckle at history repeating itself. âI trained Elmsprout when she left AshClan. It seems only fair that I train another caretaker.â
âSo I can join?â Asterpaw asked, standing as tall as he could despite his short stature.
âYou canât be stealing from us, though,â Rattlepelt noted. âIâll know if you steal my leather.â She adjusted her fox pelt, rubbing her face into the red fur lining the outer side.
âIf youâre as troublesome as Gentlestar claims you are,â Downstar chuckled, touching noses with Asterpaw, âyou need a more experienced paw to guide you. If this is what you want, you can return to RippleClan with us at the end of Harvest Moon.â Asterpaw hooked his tail high, purring at his new leader.
A hiss slipped through the happy noise of the Harvest Moon. A sharp yelp spun Downstarâs head around. Far away from the rest of the crowd, Weedfoot, Paleseed, and Darkkick slept beside one another. Terracottafoot looped around them, using them as a wall between themself and Waspdawn, whose shortened tail thrashed violently and who bared his teeth like a dog.
âWhat did you do to Paleseed?â Waspdawn yowled. He tried to get around the sleeping cats and strike Terracottafoot, but the nimble cleric led the codekeeper on a loop, staying far from Waspdawnâs angry claws.
âPlease, you canât disturb them!â Terracottafoot begged. âThis is more important than you realize!â Downstar ran toward Waspdawn and Terracottafoot, but Troutpool beat her there.
âWaspdawn, you canât attack a cleric!â Troutpool yowled, grabbing Waspdawn by the scruff and pulling him back. Waspdawn squirmed out of Troutpoolâs weak grasp.
âThey did something to them!â Waspdawn hissed. Cats slipped away from the excitement of the distant race and formed a crowd of onlookers, all eyes on Waspdawn. âNone of them will wake up!â Terracottafoot crouched by Darkkick, who did not wake up despite the chaos around her. Eelstar shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He shivered as he stood, even though the coming sunhigh made it feel almost like summer again.
âTerracottafoot, what is going on?â Eelstar huffed. Terracottafoot rose, gray eyes hardening as they stood down their leader.
âI did what your pride wouldnât let you do,â they snapped. âI got help!â Downstar slipped beside Weedfoot. She nudged her deputyâs shoulder. Weedfoot did not stir. Downstar put her ear to Weedfootâs mouth. She was still breathing. Downstar shook her again, harder, but to the same result.
âWhatâs on their chests?â Rattlepelt called from the crowd. Troutpool joined Downstar and Weedfoot. She lifted Weedfootâs heavy head. Black dye smeared the bottom of her chin, a trail running down her chest. Darkkick and Paleseed had the same marks. Troutpool gasped and dropped Weedfootâs head. Her whiskers pushed back and her wide eyes stared at Terracottafoot.
âI know this ritual,â Troutpool muttered as Rattlepelt joined her little sister, offering a comforting weight at her side. âEvery cleric learns it, even though itâs incredibly taboo. Terracottafoot⊠why did you send them to the Dark Forest?â Fearful gasps and yowls rippled around the Leaderâs Stone. Codekeepers instantly fought to keep RippleClan and AshClan cats alike from swarming the scene, pushing and smacking them back with sheathed claws. Downstar shivered just like Eelstar.Â
âBecause theyâre going to save my Clan,â said Terracottafoot, whose characteristic insecurity vanished like morning mist against the outrage of the five Clans, whose gray eyes continued to stare down Eelstar, almost taunting him to speak against his only cleric.
(Downstar: 122, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Rattlepelt: 46, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)
(Splashpaw: 11, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still, lover of art)
(Asterpaw: 10, male, caretaker apprentice, thoughtful, has lots of ideas)
(Waspdawn: 29, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)
(Troutpool: 24, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)
[Image ID: Darkkick and Weedfoot face down Autumnstar, a Dark Forest soul. Weedfoot says, âYou couldnât rest in peace, could you Autumnstar?â]
---
Paleseed would be the one to spring the trap. It was her idea, after all, and it would keep her out of the fight. Newtstream had wandered off, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to assist anymore than she had. That left Weedfoot and Darkkick standing among the trees. Waiting. Watching. Holding their breath at the slightest shift in wind.
âAre we sure Autumnstar will come this way?â Weedfoot asked.
âTerracottafootâs performance of the ritual was sound,â Darkkick huffed. âAutumnstarâs spirit is being pulled our direction as we speak.â Weedfoot peered into the moonlit fog. The trees grew hazy the farther she looked. A distant howl filled the silence between the pair.
âDarkkick,â Weedfoot said softly, âif I donât wake up, make sure my family knows why I did this.â
âIf I donât,â Darkkick said, âtell Spikecrash Iâve enjoyed growing closer to her.â
âIâll tell her you loved her,â Weedfoot purred.
The moonlight in the distance glinted against yellow eyes. Weedfoot froze, and not just out of fear. A thin coat of frost crawled under the fog, lurching from the shadows. It stung at Weedfootâs pads and forced her back. Darkkick shivered through it. Ginger and white paws, sticky with goo and shimmering with frost, stepped out of the haze. Ice ate at his scar tissue. The face that came into view was not one of malice, but shock.
âIs that you, Weedfoot?â Autumnstar gasped. The frost grew thicker and thicker where he stood. The frost collected over Weedfootâs paws, trying to glue her to the dead grass. Weedfoot kept moving, shifting her stance and breaking the ice. âYouâre not a cat I expected to see here. Especially not alive. And Darkkick, of all cats! I never expected to see your face again. So youâve joined up with Weedfoot and her kin. Did you send the pair of you here?â Darkkick raised her hackles, hissing.
âYou couldnât rest in peace, could you Autumnstar?â Weedfoot growled. âDo you even realize youâre hurting your Clan? Your Clanmates are dying, youâve cursed them. You need to undo it.â
âI wondered if my anger held the power so many artisans and historians claimed it did in this place,â Autumnstar muttered, lifting a paw and allowing his cursed goop to drip onto the dead grass. âIf that is how their betrayal manifests, so be it. May StarClan judge their foxhearted ways just as they judged me.â
âI would have thought youâd curse RippleClan,â Darkkick scoffed.
âYou may not believe me, but I know the truth about your Clan now,â Autumnstar snapped. A flick of his tail sent ice sprinkling onto the side of a withered oak. âOur ancestors decided five Clans can exist around StarClanâs Shrine. My fight is not with RippleClan.â
âAshClan is full of your friends, your kin,â Weedfoot yowled. âI remember how much you cared for them. Why hurt them?â
âWhy do you care?â Autumnstar groaned like an impatient apprentice. âYouâre not AshClan anymore. The culture and traditions I fought to uphold mean nothing to you now.â
âI did care!â Darkkick yowled, marching closer. A flash of frost shot out from around Autumnstar. It struck at Darkkickâs legs, leaving crystals on her long fur. She hissed, gritting her teeth as her legs buckled. âI cared about AshClan up to the moment you exiled me for following StarClanâs decree! How is that âupholding traditionâ?â
âI exiled you because I thought you were lying,â Autumnstar growled. âWhy would I believe StarClan would suddenly side with the cats sewing discord into my Clan, working against so many of the values I held dear? I thought it was a conspiracy, that you had been won over. I stopped the war when I learned the truth. I respected RippleClanâs land, became civil to Downstar. And what did I get for changing my ways? StarClan struck me down. The friends and kin I spent my life defending began to curse my name. Of course I cursed them back!â Weedfoot couldnât feel her paws. Her skin burned from the cold. Ice pinned her fur to her skin. It grew thicker and thicker. Pulling away grew harder and harder until all Weedfoot and Darkkick could do was squirm in their crystal chrysalis. âI fight for my Clan, only to be spat on for my efforts. If theyâll call me a curse on their Clan, thatâs just what Iâll be!â
âPaleseed!â Weedfoot yowled. Her eyes turned to the treetops over Autumnstar. Flames danced in front of the giant moon. It licked at the end of a pointy gray branch. Paleseed stood defiant in the lifeless tree, holding the stick high, teeth dug tight into the bark. The fire brightened her spotted fur and burned her heather eyes.
Paleseed set the flame to the tree. The fire eagerly jumped to the dry tinder. Brilliant orange light exploded against the fog. Paleseed ran and jumped from one tree to another, setting each aflame.
âAre you mad?â Autumnstar roared. âYouâll kill yourselves before you kill me!â Blood pooled in Weedfootâs paws in response to the sudden heat. Frost turned to dew. Darkkick lifted herself from the grass, shaking the quickly melting ice off her long black fur like dust. In the shining firelight, Autumnstar seemed like any other opponent Weedfoot had overcome before.
Darkkick attacked first. She head-butted Autumnstar, knocking him toward the flames, now leaping to other trees of its own merit. Weedfoot struck Autumnstar upside the head before he could collect himself. They rolled through the fog, two against one. Weedfootâs pelt grew soaked as she fell on her back, saved only by Darkkick dragging Autumnstar away.
âItâs done!â Paleseed cried. In between flashes of fur and fang, fire consumed every exit. The heat replaced Autumnstarâs supernatural chill entirely. Paleseed stood on the other side of the fire, coughing, eyes watering at the smoke that now ate at the moon.
âYouâve weakened him!â Weedfoot cheered as she freed Darkkick from Autumnstarâs strong hold. âThereâs nothing else you can do here, Paleseed. You need to wake up.â
âI donât know how!â Paleseed yowled. âThis doesnât feel like a dream!â
âYou can see, but your eyes feel closed, donât they?â Darkkick snapped, dodging Autumnstarâs strike. âYou can still hear Harvest Moon in the distance. Thatâs how it is for us. Force your eyes open! Listen to the crowd!â
âI love you both!â Paleseed cried. Her wide gaze held Weedfootâs attention, even as she scratched and clawed at Autumnstar. The fire blossomed, rising like the tide and receding just as fast. Paleseed was gone. Paleseed was safe.
A lucky blow; Weedfoot kicked her leg back, only for Autumnstar to lock his fangs deep into her ankle. He was a rattlesnake, injecting cold poison into Weedfootâs blood. The deputy yowled and shivered as Autumnstarâs icy claws continued to spread his mouthâs icy venom. That close to the flesh, the fire could do nothing to stop his dark power. Weedfoot dug into Autumnstarâs face, even as her leg remained stuck in the dead leaderâs vicious bite.Â
Darkkick slid on her back, appearing under Autumnstarâs stomach. She pushed up, hard as she could. Autumnstarâs fangs lifted from Weedfootâs ankle with a vibrant spurt of blood. Weedfootâs spasming muscles kicked Autumnstar away.
Here are the fallen Ashes in the Water, the AshClan cats who stood against their Clanmates and asked for a different life; Lavenderleaf, Redcloud, Sprucespring, Wasppaw, Finstrike, Burdockstream, and Paleshade. StarClan knew of their mission and accepted their cause, welcoming the group into StarClan despite how they turned against their Clan. This is for them!
Weedfoot slashed at Autumnstarâs eyes. Autumnstar shrieked, trying to blink the blood away. Darkkick fulfilled her namesake; she kicked, hard, right against Autumnstarâs side, sending the suddenly blinded leader stumbling into Paleseedâs flames.
The effect was nearly instant. As Autumnstar caterwauled, form flailing in the fire, sharp-angled shadows bounced off his silhouette. Shardlings. The living shadows, with too pointy ears and fang-tips for tails, the broken remnants of a Dark Forest soul, dead twice-over. They scattered with the smoke, mimicking their hostâs fading screams. Autumnstar grew smaller and smaller in the fireâs glow.
Weedfoot turned to Darkkick, wondering, praying, screaming inside, still absorbing the pain in her leg and everything unfolding around her. But Darkkick was gone. Darkkick was safe.
But Weedfoot bore witness. She was still a historian. This was her duty.
The last shadow of Autumnstar shifted and danced in the fire, with only its ears and tail suggesting a feline shape. But this Shardling did not bounce into the Dark Forest to search for its broken kin. No, this Shardling stared at Weedfoot. Bright yellow eyes glared at her with more hatred than any soul, dead or alive, could muster. It screeched with a sound like screaming wind. Flames reaching out to restrain it, the Shardling launched at Weedfoot.
Weedfoot was not safe.
[Image ID: Darkkick, Paleseed, and Weedfoot sit together as Rattlepelt tells Weedfoot, âIâve got you, Weedfoot!â Under Weedfoot, it says + CONDITION: MANGLED LEG. Under Rattlepelt, it says LEVEL UP! FIERCE -> BLOODTHIRSTY.]
Weedfoot screamed. She spasmed against the gray⊠no. The green grass. The grass was green again. The voices that once whispered far in the distance were now up close and yowling. The sun. The sun had returned, dancing directly over the Leaderâs Stone. A huge crowd surrounded Weedfoot, gasping and yowling in response to her sudden panic.
âIâve got you, Weedfoot!â Rattlepelt sat at Weedfootâs side. She wrapped her prized fox pelt around Weedfootâs burning leg. It was still bleeding, even though Weedfootâs body never entered that cursed forest. âTroutpool and the other clerics are making emergency bandages.â Rattlepelt pressed both front paws into Weedfootâs wounds. A bit of blood stained her gray skin.
âWe werenât putting on a show here.â Darkkick! She and Paleseed sat with Terracottafoot, cleaning the black dye off their chests with wet moss rather than groom it and get sick.
âI did try to send them away,â Terracottafoot gulped.
âMove, thatâs our mother!â Weedfootâs four other kits pushed through the crowd, Waspdawn in the lead. The golden tom ran into Weedfoot. Puddlewhisper and Lavendertwist wrapped around their mother. Even Scaleripple, sensitive as he was, laid his head on Weedfootâs tail, purring. Paleseed left Darkkick and Terracottafoot to join her family. Waspdawn tackled his sister, trying to hold both kin close. James trailed after them, lucious tail tucked under his legs.
âWhere are you hurt?â James asked. He noticed Rattlepeltâs bloody paws and groaned, closing his eyes. âNo, donât tell me, I donât want to look. Iâm just grateful youâre awake.â Weedfoot couldnât help but laugh; even as she awoke from a battle in the Dark Forest, James was still the snob she knew and love. James pressed into Weedfootâs neck.
âWeedfoot.â Weedfootâs family shifted to reveal Downstar, standing with Eelstar at the front of the crowd. âTerracottafoot told us of their vision and your quest. You should have told me about this.â
âThis wasnât your problem to solve,â Eelstar said. His voice lacked its usual bite as he stared at the fox pelt around her leg.
âIâm sorry, Downstar,â Weedfoot gulped, voice shaky from the experience, âbut this was too important to let you stop us. StarClan said we were the best ones to handle Autumnstar.â
âIt was terrifying to see,â Lavendertwist gulped. âMom, you and Darkkick were just laying there, shivering! And then all these scratches and bruises began to appear, even though no one was touching you! And then your leg opened up, it was⊠I donât even know what to say! What happened in the Dark Forest?â
Yes⊠what had happened? The Shardling had had its jaw around Weedfootâs throat. It should have killed her. It wasnât a thinking being, it was a bundle of lost emotion and instinct, a small piece of what used to be Autumnstar. It didnât have the capacity to spare. So why did it? All five Clans stared at Weedfoot, awaiting her answer. What could she say? Only the truth.
âAutumnstar canât hurt anyone anymore,â Weedfoot said.
(Weedfoot: 112, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)
(Darkkick: 123, trans female, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)
(Paleseed: 29, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)
(Rattlepelt: 46, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)
(Waspdawn: 29, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)
(Puddlewhisper: 29, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense)
(Lavendertwist: 29, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)
(Scaleripple: 16, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)
(James: 139, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)
(Downstar: 122, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)













