#nightdrift

Nightfly Origin

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Previous

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Nightdrift held his breath, watching as still as a rock. But when the cat moved out of the shadow of the bridge, it was clear that she was neither Meadowtree nor Feathergaze. Just a random alley cat.

But maybe she knew where their Clanmates were.

He followed Twistedshine and Bramblefin, who were already racing to meet the cat, and dipped his head in polite, if hasty, greeting.

“Oh, hello–” the cat began, when the RiverClan cats began to bombard her with questions.

“Have you seen any Clan cats around?”

“Her name is Feathergaze–”

“She looks like me.”

“She might be with some other cats too.”

The she-cat watched them with what looked to be mingling feelings of bewilderment, amusement, and irritation. She waited until their rambling slowed, then turned around back into the bridge’s darkness, flicking her tail in a gesture for them to follow.

They did so, Nightdrift a bit fast as he moved through the darkness of the strange structure.

The other side had a rounded, bumpy thunderpath that covered the ground like the grass in a clearing. There were patches of dried grass and dandelions that poked here and there, but the most shelter this place provided was composed of debris and smelly Twoleg things. Instead of tall trees or rolling hills, this place had Twoleg dens higher than either, surrounding the cats like a starving pack of foxes. There were two long alleyways that led to this place, but by the looks of them, Nightdrift guessed that no one–at least no house cat with better options–had come this way in a long time.

The more he looked around, the more Nightdrift realized that eyes were on them. In the shadows, behind different structures. They were all slinking around. He couldn’t count them all.

The she-cat cleared her throat as she turned to face them, and Nightdrift was forced to look at her. 

But she seemed to sense his nerves, and waved a dismissive paw. “Oh, don’t mind the lot, they’ve just got nothing better to do than to spy on strangers.” She whipped her head around, and in an instant her friendly demeanor changed to show her long, sharp fangs. “Beat it, will ya?! You’re scaring the guests. Shoo, before I make ya!” 

As soon as she spoke, the eyes were gone. Nightdrit heard the soft sound of pawsteps hurrying away, and he blinked at this cat, marveling at how easily she had controlled them. “They must really respect you!” 

The she-cat shrugged, humbly. “The name’s Ash. Pleasure to meet ya. Clan cats, I presume?”

“WindClan,” Nightdrift told her.

“RiverClan, both of us,” Bramblefin added, nodding at Twistedshine, who was beside him.

“Yeah, yeah, pleasure,” Twistedshine grumbled, “look, we’re kind of in a hurry, so if you could please–”

“Mama!” 

Two little kits sprang out of the darkness. Nightdrift blinked as they nuzzled their mother, baffled that he failed to hear their approach. Perhaps the talking blocked it out. He bit back a yawn. Or perhaps he was just getting really tired. He had promised Kestralspot and Pepperfoot that he would be back by dusk. By the time they got back, it would be dawn. 

*Stars, can my paws even carry me so far?* Nightdrift found himself slumping to the ground.

“Oh my!” Ash turned to her son, a little white tom with yellow eyes. “Scooter, be a doll, fetch these nice folk some bedding, okay dear?”

“Okay!” Scooter chirped loudly before springing away.

“We’re not really going to be here long–” Twistedshine began to decline.

“Are you hungry?” Ash asked the group when her daughter–a black tortie with orange flecks, like her mother–nipped at her tail. “Ha! I know someone who could use a bite.” She gently batted the kit away. “Patience, Cody. You’ll eat soon enough, but not if you shred my fur off!”

Cody ducked her head. “Sorry momma!”

Ash returned her attention once again to the group. “So, Clan cats, eh? Why, you must have walked a long way to find me. Either you’re lost, or my mother sent you.”

Bramblefin tilted his head. “Elderly kittypet? Yeah, you look a little like her.”

Ash wrinkled her snout playfully. “Ha! Don’t say that, I don’t like being insulted in my own home.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Scooter! Wonderful job, love,” Ash broke off as her son returned.He carried something thin and long enough to drag behind him for a few tail-lengths. It was an off-pink colour, and decidedly not moss. But, testing it with a paw, it seemed comfortable enough, and Nightdrift couldn’t resist leaning into the soft touch, letting the strange warmth soak up the soreness in his feet.

“Enough pleasantries!” Twistedshine snapped. “We’re looking for our missing kin. Your mother said that they came here. Now, where are they?”

Ash’s whiskers gave the slightest twitch, but other than that she gave away no indication that the RiverClan she-cat’s words had offended her. Instead, she grabbed a hold of the kittypet-moss and stretched it out so that it was big enough for her three guests to settle onto it comfortably. When she was done, she patted it with a paw, indicating that she wanted them to rest on it anyway. 

“Your fur’s a mess!” Ash pointed out kindly. “You look exhausted, and you know I ain’t deaf, right? I can hear your stomachs growling. Is that the state you want your loved ones to see ya in? I don’t think so,” she finished before anyone could answer. “Now, rest up! I’ll be right back with some nice plump chicken. Cody, Scooter, come along! Help me pick out the best meat.”

Nightdrift watched her go, little ones scampering after, then looked at the strange, odd-coloured, incredibly soft kittypet moss. His paws shuffled under him, feeling the smallest of rocks that cut into his sore pads, numb from the night’s travels, and it didn’t take long before he was almost nonconsciously stepping onto the material. A sigh escaped him. It really was so soft! It took everything in him not to roll onto his side and off his paws entirely.

Bramblefin hesitated a moment longer before joining him, sniffing at the pink thing cautiously, while Twistedshine only let out another growl of annoyance, pacing to and fro while they waited for Ash and her kits to return.

“How old would you say those kits are?” Bramblefin wondered.

“Three moons, I think,” Nightdrift answered. “Why?”

Bramblefin shrugged, and his ears flattened in embarrassment. But his thoughts were apparently too great to be contained, and he ended up spilling, “if I hadn’t been such a coward and just told Feathergaze how I felt, maybe we could have made something.”

“Like kits?”

“She was hunting when the flood hit. Right by the river. I don’t know if it’s selfish but…sometimes I wonder if she would have been safer if she was confined to the nursery. Then she wouldn’t have been swept away to who-knows-where.”

“We KNOW where,” Nightdrift assured him. “Here. They came HERE. We are about to find them. We’re just going to eat first, and then Ash will tell us where to go. We’ll see them again.”

Bramblefin nodded, eyes troubled, but he didn’t argue further.

“What about you, WindClan?” Twistedshine’s voice cut through the crisp air. It was hoarse, strained from the hours spent yowling her sister’s name. “There a reason you came all this way with us. Is there something YOU were hoping to confess to?”

Nightdrift shook his head. “No, I have someone else.” His heart momentarily soared as he thought of his loving mate, and the two kits that they shared. He couldn’t wait to return to them, to hold them. “Meadowtree and I weren’t all that close. But I promised her parents I would help them look.”

“Because everybody else gave up.” Twistedshine’s words didn’t need to be poised as a question. 

“Hey.” Nightrit caught her blind eye. “We are about to prove to them that they are wrong.”

Twistedshine stood still for a heartbeat or two, then dipped her head, brows furrowed with renewed determination. A moment later, Ash reappeared, dragging another of the strange kittypet-moss. Nightdrift wondered if they were meant to eat it, when a StarClan-blessed scent hit his nose and he saw the pieces of meat laying atop the material as Ash pulled it closer. Cody and Scooter bounced on their paws after her, watching curiously.

Nightrift had no idea what a chicken was, but he saw the plump, if a little dry, meat, and his mouth had watered in seconds. He forced himself to hold back, gesturing for Bramblefin and Twistedshine to go ahead first. Twistedshine didn’t see him, of course, but the amazing smell drew her in and she began to take rapid mouthfuls. When Bramblefin backed up to give Nightdrit room, he all but dove in, feeling the ripples of hunger roll through his belly as he bit into the unfamiliar, wonderful food.

At last they were satisfied. They stepped away from the meat, now a pile of crumbs, and returned to the original kittypet-moss. 

“Thank you!” Bramblefin told Ash as he licked his lips.

“I couldn’t get enough of it,” Nightdrift told her.

Ash’s eyes glowed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. What about you, dear? Was it up to your liking?” she asked Twistedshine.

Twistedshine didn’t respond. Nightdrift guessed that she was upset with herself for getting distracted.

Ash blinked sympathetically. “Missing your kits, I take it?”

Twistedshine’s muzzle swung to her. “How did you know?”

Ash laughed. “Well, it’s hardly a secret, love! You smell of milk and kittens. Stale, though. Am I right to say that they’re weaned?”

Twistedshine looked like she was about to snap at Ash to mind her business. Then the lock in her jaw relaxed and she replied, “they’re about a moon older than yours.”

“Do they have a father?”

“Of course they do!”

“Good!” Ash cheered. “Kitties need two parents, I like to think. You never know what could happen to one.” Her gaze drifted to her little ones, who had begun wrestling each other in a ball of fluff. 

“Well, nothing’s going to happen to him. And nothing’s going to happen to me.” Twistedshine’s cold demeanor had returned.

Ash shook her head. “There’s so much that is out of our control, dear. So much that we want to take back. My mother…did she tell you about Red?”

“Your sister’s kit?” Nightdrift guessed. His stomach felt weird.

“Her eldest,” Ash confirmed. “Her precious son. He was such a mama’s boy! I got the news after I found out I was expecting. I told my sis that I was going to have kits, and she told me hers was dead. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

Nightdrift grimaced as a headache hit him. By Bramblefin’s expression, it had struck him as well. They shared a fearful look. 

Nightdrift stood. “We should get going–” but as soon as he was on his paws, his stomach cramped painfully and he fell into a crouch, hissing through the pain.

Ash made no move to help him. The kits broke away from their game and now sat, watching the Clan cats.

Ash let the facade fully fall, and she sneered at them with a face as chill as a blizzard. “Clan cats took him away from us. I’m only returning the favour.”

“Please!” Bramblefin gasped. “We don’t know who Red is!”

Nightdrit’s mind was racing. “R..Redjay? The ShadowClan warrior?”

“Ah, so you DO know him!”

Nightdrift coughed. “Yes, he died of sickness. But that–arg–that w-was an accident. It happens.” 

Ash struck out a paw, cuffing Nightdrift harshly around the ears and making the already painful headache into a blinding one. “The medicine cat refused to treat him. Does that happen?” she challenged.

“Hickoryskip?” Bramblefin struggled to understand. When Ash didn’t blink, he asked, “Gorsedaisy?” He was hardly able to get the name out at all.

ShadowClan’s medicine cat let their own warrior die? Why? And why were they being punished for it now?

“Wee’re nod ShadowClan…” Twistedshine’s speech was becoming slurred. “We had no id-idea.”

“I believe you,” Ash said simply. “That doesn’t mean I care.”

“Pleeze!” Nightdrift couldn’t lift himself from the ground. His stomach cramped agonizingly, as though claws were digging into his stomach, and his muscles had become loose and uncoordinated, unable to be controlled no matter how hard he willed them to move. “My…my kit’ds…need m-m-me.”

He had to get home.

He had to get to his family.

He had to.

Ash tilted her head to one side. “You believe in spirits, don’t you?”

“Yhe,” Nightdrift grunted. His vision was growing darker, black spots dotted around his periphery like an ugly mass of beetles. He wondered if Twistedshine really had stopped moving, or if that was just his eyes. 

Ash smiled. “Then pray to them. Beg them to save you, and know that they will do nothing, like ShadowClan did nothing to protect my nephew.”

Nightdrift tried to respond, to plead, to beg–her or the Stars, but his tongue filled his mouth, any speech he made at this point were only nonsense sounds. He coughed as bile rose up his throat. His last thoughts were of his newborn kits, tucked away safely in the nursery, of how he would never get to hold them close again or raise them to be the best warriors that they could be. Then it all faded to black.

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--Changed my mind about Twistedshine surviving!

--They were poisoned with antifreeze.

Nightfly Origin

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The stream was more of a thin trickle of water no thicker than a squirrel, flowing between two slanted tan-Thunderpaths in a ditch running alongside the much larger, grey Thunderpath that rumbled every now and again with a passing monster. 

Nightdrift shuttered every time. He could never get used to their presence.

The unexpected but very welcome news that someone had seen their missing Clanmates, alive, was enough to chase all the exhaustion from their bodies as if the long, tense pulls at their weakening muscles were nothing more than troublesome flies, able to be batted away with a swipe. 

That wasn’t quite true. The dull ache in Nightdrift’s legs told the tom that his body still very much felt the journey he had yet to take a break from. But the fresh spark in his chest sent swirls of energizing flames through his limbs, telling him to ignore the ache, ignore the pain, just focus on what he KNEW. 

They were going to find Meadowtree. And Feathergaze. Heck, they might find Branchfoot, the missing SkyClan warrior, as well.

Moons of not finding a single sign of the missing cats, of losing hope for their safe return and watching as their kin clung desperately to the possibility that they would be found–would even still be alive, it drained more faith from Nightdrift than if StarClan had told him directly that they didn’t care about their prayers. 

Now, that faith was back, hitting him full-force and so strongly that it nearly knocked him off his paws as true as a real blow to the chest would. 

Nightdrift thought of the grief in Pepperfoot’s eyes, of the way Kestralspot fought vehemently against accepting her daughter’s fate. He spared a glance at his companions, kin and close friend of Feathergaze, and thought of their anguished hope as well. 

The urge, no, the NEED to find Meadowtree, Feathergaze, and even Branchfoot became stronger. The hollowed eyes and whimpers of grief heard in the warriors’ den at night morphed into wide-smile delight, to bouncing paws and cries of pure joy as he imagined walking into camp with Meadowtree, safe and sound and back in the embrace of her worried parents.

He wanted to not only ease their grief, but take it away entirely. The fact that he–and Bramblefin and Twistedshine–would probably be celebrated for finding the missing cats was just a bonus.

“There!” Bramblefin’s mew cut into his thoughts.

He looked up, following the dark tabby’s gaze. In the near-distance stood what Nightdrift guessed was a bridge. It had a heavy arch to it, like a cat curling it’s back as it stared down a predator it was trying to intimidate….staring…the gap in the centre of the structure was round, almost perfectly circular if it weren’t for the rugged, rectangular stones that jutted out unevenly. It made him think of an eye, and his heart quickened nervously. He told himself that this bridge wasn’t watching him.

What the bridge was was old. Even in the darkness and with the space between the cats and the bridge, they could see that time had crumbled. Nightdrift couldn’t stop himself from staring, expecting it to collapse at any second.

The stream/trickle that the cats had followed hadn’t stretched out, but the slanted paths that held it eased, perhaps also broken, fading against the weight of time and falling back to the ground. The strong slants back by the busy Thunderpaths were now resting, almost flat, against the ground. Nightdrift could see cracks lining the slants-not-slants. Long, dried tufts of grass poked out from the thin crevices. 

But the water was thin enough to not overflow over the lowered lips, and there was still enough for travel without all being lost within the cracks. It went on languidly until it disappeared beneath the darkness of the bridge. Nonchalant. Uncaring. Like naive prey unaware of the beast’s jaws it was walking right into.

Nightdrift paused. First eyes, now a predator’s mouth. Why was this bridge freaking him out so much? He wasn’t exactly the bravest warrior in the Clans, or in WindClan, or in the warriors’ den in WindClan or any patrol he attended. But he wasn’t a frightened kit, so why was he acting like one?

Nightdrift narrowed his eyes, as if to prove to himself, to the bridge, that he wasn’t afraid. Eyeing it, focusing almost challengingly, he saw a flash of light and gasped.

Before his mind could register what the flicker of movement was, a cat stepped out of the shadows.

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NEXT

@ambitiousauthor

Nightfly Origin

First

Previous

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The three cats walked slowly, their energy drained with every step as much as their hope had been seeped out of their hearts with every kittypet or alleyway loner they spoke to, all giving the same answer.

No one had seen Meadowtree or Feathergaze, or any Clan cat besides them, for that matter.

Nightdrift glanced ahead at Twistedshine, who’s muzzle was locked and eyes were narrowed in determination. Determined to find her sister, or determined to still believe that she would, he couldn’t tell. 

A sigh brought his attention to Bramblefin, walking beside him. He leaned over and whispered in the brown tabby’s ear. “Were you two close?” he asked.

Bramblefin looked at Nightdrift, then at his own paws, caked with the dust that littered the strange pathways that lined the Twolegplace. “Been friends since we were young,” he answered.

“Mates?” 

Bramblefin shook his head, and Nightdrift could see that it pained him. “No,” he responded through what sounded like a lump in his throat. “I mean…I caught feelings, but…”

“She never did?” Nightdrift guessed sympathetically.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have the courage to ask before, and now…I’ll never know what her answer would have been.” His lips trembled, and the dark cloud over his eyes watered with fresh emotion. Nightdrift stepped closer, hoping to press against him and soothe as much pain as he could, but before his paw could touch the dusty ground, Twistedshine whirled around, bristling.

“Don’t say that” she hissed, saliva swinging from her snapping teeth. “We WILL find her, safe and sound, and you WILL have your answer!” Before either tom could respond, she whipped back around and continued on, tail lashing.

Nightdrift lowered his voice to a whisper, and spoke again into Bramblefin’s ear. “Has she been doing okay? Other than now?” He wanted to know if Twistedshine felt better when she was surrounded by other loved ones, her kits, her friends, or if the distraction of everyday life was enough to quiet the beast that grief brought. If it was different from now, when Feathergaze–and Meadowtree-was the front and centre of all their thoughts. He wasn’t sure why. Pity, probably.

Bramblefin shrugged. “I think she just hides it well,” he murmured back. “Feathergaze is more than a sister to her. She was–is–her best friend, and in a way, her daughter.”

“I heard.” Nightdrift wondered what it would be like to raise your younger sibling as your own kit. He guessed that Twistedshine didn’t have much of a choice. He didn’t know what kind of parents they had or how bad they were, he only knew that Twistedshine took it upon herself to take care of her kit-sister so that she would be happier than Twistedshine had been.

His eyes rested on the blind she-cat, who stomped on with a growl. What must it be like to lose the one cat you swore to always keep happy? What must she feel, knowing that the sister she must have sworn to protect is surely dead–or at least, will never be found by the Clans again?

Nightdrift’s chest ached as a storm of ice swept through his lungs and up his throat, where it sat as heavy as a rock. He tried to swallow it, stumbling, but it didn’t budge.  If this was how bad he felt just thinking about these cats’ pain, how could they move on, feeling it, expecting to live and hunt and patrol as if they don’t?

So distressed and distracted by these thoughts, he didn’t realize that Twistedshine had stopped, and bumped into her rear.

“Watch it,” she growled.

“Sorry.” Nightdrift blinked, realizing with a start that Twistedshine had stopped because she was speaking to someone. It was hard to tell in the dark light–night had fully fallen, and the tall Twoleg lights that lined the Thunderpaths were absent in this small row of dens–but he was sure that she was a tortoiseshell cat. He waited for her eyes to flash towards him, but even as she clearly faced him, there wasn’t so much as a glimpse. Did she HAVE eyes?

“As I was saying,” Twistedshine huffed, “have you seen any Clan cats around?”

The elderly kittypet let out a chuckle. For some reason, it made Nightdrift flinch. “Haven’t seen anyone around, hon. Don’t have the equipment for it.”

Equip…what? Must be a kittypet word.

“Blind?” Twistedshine asked.

“That’s right. And if you had to ask, I take it you’s the same.”

“For about four seasons now,” Twistedshine told her. “Cataracts.”

“Ah, rough.”

“Excuse me.” Bramblefin pushed forward. “We’re looking for some cats. Have you–uhm–scented them around? Or know anyone who did? We’re kind of in a hurry.”

The old cat responded to his request for hast with a long, massive yawn that sent an unpleasant odour into the three cats’ faces. They couldn’t help themselves from flinching. “It’s possible I smelt them. It’s even possible I spoke to them.”

Twistedshine straightened. Brmablefin leaned forward, ears perked, and Nightdrift’s eyes widened. “You did?” Twistedshine gasped. “Were they okay?”

“Was a she-cat with them?” Bramblefin put in. “She would have smelt like the two of us.”

“And another would have smelt like me,” Nightdrift added.

“Which way did they go?”

“Did a Twoleg take them?”

“Were they injured?”

“How many did you see–uh hear?”

The old cat smacked her tail against the ground. “Quiet, would you? How many tongues you think I have?”

Nightdrift ducked his head. “Sorry.”

Twistedshine scratched her claws against the tan Thunderpath impatiently. “She’s my sister, so excuse me if I’m in a rush to find her.”

The old cat tilted her head to one side. “Oh, yes, it can be tough losing kin, can it? The pain so hard, like the death of your own heart right inside of you.” Her words were raspy, creaking like a broken branch. “My own little kit found out her son had died not too long ago. A sickness that could have been cured if some cats had just given him care took him away from us. Ah, maybe you know him. Maybe you hated him too, like the cats who killed him.”

What was she going on about? “I’m sorry for your loss,” Nightdrift told her earnestly, albeit with confusion. “Perhaps…you understand why we want to find our Clanmates so much?”

The old cat’s muzzle wrinkled, reminding Nightdrift of a hungry dog. “You don’t care about my loss. Listen to you! I tell you about my dead grandbaby and my poor daughter’s broken heart, and you only want me to stop talking so you can go find your kin. What selfishness!”

Nightdrift ducked his head. Was he being selfish? 

“We could talk to you about it…when we get back?” Bramblefin offered. 

“Ha!” The old cat’s laugh was sharp, slicing through the air as clear as a claw. “Don’t bother. I want nothing to do with you Clan cats if it ain’t sending you on your way.”

“And which way would that be?” Twistenshine’s question was more of a snap. 

The old cat curled her lip in distaste. She nodded across the Thunderpath. “That direction ‘til you find a little stream. Follow it to a bridge. That’s where I sent them.”

Twistedshine had already bounded across the path before she could finish, Bramblefin hard on her paws. 

“Thank you,” Nightdrift told the old she-cat. “This is the most news we’ve gotten since the Flood.”

“Then go, and get away from me before I change my mind!”

Without needing more insistence, Nightdrift raced after his companions, fresh hope lighting his steps.

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NEXT:

@ambitiousauthor

Nightfly Origin

First

Previous

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Nothing.

Nightdrift pulled his head from the clump of fern he had sniffed. No scent left of Meadowtree, not on these leaves, nor anywhere else Nightdrift had checked, which at this point felt like the whole territory. There was no clump of hair, either, not even a single strand or partial pawprint left in the soil.

It's like she disappeared, he thought to himself with a shiver.

So spooked by the very idea that someone could just go away one day and never be found, Nightdrift didn't realize when he had strayed too close to the border and was about to step over the edge of the gorge when a voice screamed out, "look out!"

Nightdrift nearly jumped out of his fur at the sound, then nearly had a heart attack when he saw how close he had come to plummeting over the gorge and to almost certain death. All because he wasn't watching where he was going. He looked up, waving a greeting tail. "Thank you!" he called gratefully as his rapid heart rate began to slow.

Two cats faced him, Bramblefish–a dark brown tabby tom, and Twistedshine–a silver-black she-cat with long fur and eyes so clouded, it was difficult to distinguish the blue in her irises from the green. Two cats of RiverClan.

Maybe they could help him?

He gestured to where the gorge eased to river, then further until it could be crossed with one bound, and hurried over. He was half-surprised to see that the RiverClan cats were listening.

He was just about to ask them if they've seen Meadowtree when, before they had even settled down, Bramblefish asked, "do you know where she is? Did you find her?"

Nightdrift blinked. "Find who?"

“Feathergaze!" Twistedshine snapped. "Did you do something to her?" she bared her yellow fangs, and Nightdrift had to force himself not to recoil at the foul stench that rolled into his nostrils like invading skunks.

Nightdrift recognized the name, another cat lost in the flood. Too, he remembered that Twistedshine was her older sister who–from stories he heard at gatherings–raised Featherkit herself because their parents were, for lack of a better term, unfit. It was no wonder that when faced with the slightest possibility that the cat she was speaking to hurt that very sister she had spent so long protecting, she would show her teeth.

But Nightdrift was innocent, and he shook his head vigorously against the accusation. "No! No! Not at all! I was just looking for my Clanmate."

“Meadowtree?" Bramblefish guessed. His shoulders were slumped in dejection.

Nightdrift sighed. "I take it you haven't seen her?"

"Not a whiff."

Twistedshine lashed her tail angrily. She glared sightlessly up at the sky, where the first few warriors of StarClan were starting to appear. "Oh, would you just let us find them already? What is this game you're making us play?"

Bramblefish brushed a calming tail across her side. "Twistedshine, it's alright–"

“It is not alright!" Twistedshine was shouting now. "Seasons have passed and no one has found a single sign of Feathergaze! Not even a body that could at least give us closure. No, we have to keep wondering day-in and day-out if she's even still alive, or if she's okay or needs help. My kits are two moons now, Bramble. What if they never know their aunt? What do I do then?"

Through the putrid smell of plaque-teeth, Nightdrift fought back a gasp as he smelled milk coming from the old she-cat. She was a nursing mother!

Another broken family, he thought bitterly. His mind went back to Kestralspot and Pepperfoot, parents desparate to find their daughter, and the only ones in the entirety of WindClan that still held out hope that she was alive.

Not even Nightdrift, who was actively searching for Meadowtree, felt the same determination.

Now, here stood Feathergaze's older sister. As well, he had spotted Bramblefish and Feathergaze sit together many times at previous gatherings or walking beside each other on patrols. He guessed that, though the two weren't kin, they were close enough to be considered family. Were they mates?

What if I lost Hawksplash? Nightdrift wondered. The thought of losing his day-old kits was bad enough, but the thought of losing her as well? He had to steady his breathing to stop himself from spiraling, reminding himself over and over that she and the kits were tucked away safe and sound in the nursery.

Looking at the two desperate cats, his heart could have shattered in too many pieces to count. He couldn't just walk away without doing anything.

“Let me help you find her," he offered. "Both of them."

"How?" Bramblefish tilted his head. "Everyone's scoured everywhere at least a billion times."

Nightdrift took a moment to think. "What about the Twolegplace?"

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NEXT

Hope the story makes sense! I’m very tired as I’m writing it lol

Nightfly origin

Previous

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“Still no sign?” Nightdrift asked the returning patrol. He stood by the fresh-kill pile, and was making his pick when the cats padded through the entrance. Their drooping tails and discouraged looks gave Nightdrift the answer before any of them spoke.

“Not a single scent,” Kestrelspot reported, before hissing to herself.

“We’ll find her,” Pepperfoot, her mate, promised,  pressing against her side. 

But Kestrelspot shook him off, bristling. “It’s been moons! How has no one found a single trace of her?!” She trembled. “If I had known…I never would have let her hunt alone! I–I didn’t know there’d be a flood! RiverClan didn’t say anything!”

“She drowned,” Ravenfrost, an elder that was sunning herself nearby, broke in. Her voice was raspy, scratching along her throat as much as her words scratched at Kestrelspot’s heart. 

Kestrelspot glared slits at her. “No one ever found a body!”

“Washed away,” Ravenfrost responded simply. “I know it’s hard, Kestrel, and I’m sorry for your loss, but we can’t keep wasting resources on a lost cause.”

“My daughter is not a lost cause!” Kestralspot snapped. She looked ready to pounce, and Nightdrift held his breath, half-expecting the grieving mother to attack the elder.

Pepperfoot pressed more deeply against her side, brushing his tail over her back soothingly. He glared at the old calico. “Just stop talking, Ravenfrost. Nothing you say will make us give up on our daughter. If we have to search for the next hundred seasons, so be it.”

Ravenfrost sighed. “Forgive me for wanting to spare you the pain hope can bring.” With that, she stood and padded into the elder’s den.

As soon as she was gone, Kestralspot dropped heavily to the ground, as if the short argument drained all the energy from her. She gasped, shaking as waves of sobs wracked her body. “She can’t be dead,” she cried. “She can’t be! She’s strong. She survived, I know she did! It’s just taking her a little bit to return, that’s all.”

Nightdrift frowned, wishing he could do something to ease her pain. Glancing around the camp, he saw that no one who had witnessed the exchange seemed to share Meadowtree’s parents' belief. Everyone either looked away or shook their heads sadly, and every gaze that Nightdrift found was filled with hopelessness. No one else thought that Meadowtree would come back. No one thinks she’s even still alive….

He couldn’t imagine the pain. His kits were only born the other day, and already the thought of losing them, worse, the thought of losing them and never knowing where they are or if they’re okay–it well near gave him an anxiety attack. He resisted the urge to run straight to the nursery to make sure that his two little kits, and their mother, were safe.

“Kestrelspot?” Nightdrift spoke up, nearing the she-cat. “How about a rabbit? There’s a fresh one on the pile, still warm.”

Kestrelspot sniffled. “I need to go back out.”

“I’ll go,” Nightdrift offered. 

Pepperfoot blinked. “You will?”

Nightdrift nodded. “Yes, of course. Meadowtree is our Clanmate. You eat and rest. Catch up on all the food and sleep you’ve been missing for the past moons. I will look for Meadowtree. I promise,” he added when Kestrelspot opened her jaws, “I will look for her as if she were my own kit.”

Kestrelspot nodded slowly. “Th-thank you,” she breathed. “It means a lot, it really does. Everyone else…they’ve given up on her.”

“I haven’t,” Nightdrift reassured her. “Go, eat. I will be back at dusk.”

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