Honeybuzz fiercely grieves his mate. Mitespark has to stop him from attacking Yarrowclaw.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz tries to attack Yarrowclaw, but Mitespark stands between them. Honeybuzz yowls, "You should have saved them first!" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

(Honeybuzz: 48, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Mitespark: 42, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

(Yarrowclaw: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)

As the Clan rebuilds, Oilstar decides to bless Yarrowclaw’s heroism by giving her an honor title; Floodsplash!

[Image ID: Oilstar and Tallowheart approach Yarrowclaw, now Floodsplash. Oilstar says, " You trusted StarClan's vision and saved your Clanmates. If that isn't worthy of an honor title, what is?" Under Floodsplash, it says LEVEL UP! YARROWCLAW → FLOODSPLASH.]

---

It took two days before the five Clans could converge on RippleClan's camp and clear out the last of the floodwaters. And yes, it was five Clans working on the camp, not one. Despite the conflicts of the past year, the other four leaders stood with Oilstar, sending their warriors to restore RippleClan's ruined medicine stores and broken dens. AshClan artisans helped RippleClan carve their first leader and deputy once more into fresh sculptures, with shiny and bright paint from LynxClan. RippleClan caretakers each led a team to clean out their assigned dens, moving broken planks and seaweed and scavenging the old leather floors.

Somehow the human long pelt in the elder's den survived the storm, clumped into a corner. It now laid in the heart of camp with a dozen cats resting on it, trying to find some sense of normalcy, their salt-crusted paws kneading into the sun-warmed material. Most of those cats were RippleClan. Their legs shook from the cleaning efforts. Their muscles burned. They couldn't help anymore, no matter how much they insisted they should. That was what Yarrowclaw kept telling herself as she laid with her belly up, staring at the cascading layers of clouds above.

Yarrowclaw wanted to sleep. She wanted to rest. She knew her mind and heart needed it, perhaps more than the majority of her Clanmates. But the liar in her head kept saying she didn't need rest. She felt fine. If she wasn't tired, she should help. She shouldn't let the other Clans do everything. She was the one who saved the day. Yarrowclaw groaned and flipped onto her stomach, throwing her paws over her head. Could her thoughts please be quiet?

Even those with able bodies could not work. Rattlepelt, Wildclaw, Shrewflame, Whiteflower, and Midnightpaw (once again wearing a tight, dry bandage) sat around Troutpool as the senior cleric softly explained that while Valleypaw's body may never be found, his spirit was sitting with them right now, and he would protect his brothers and mothers no matter where he was. Paleseed worked with a WheatClan mediator in front of the repaired nursery, coaxing Honeybuzz and Stormjump's sons back inside, promising the den couldn't hurt them. Honeybuzz was nowhere to be found. Spikecrash spoke softly with Venturedapple, sharing the horror of Stormjump's body floating in the nursery.

Yes, Stormjump. At least the Clan had her body for the vigil. Only StarClan knew where Valleypaw was washed to. Stormjump now rested beside Littlekit. Yet Yarrowclaw was the hero who saved her mate and escorted everyone out of the medicine. She helped save Stormjump's kits.

It was the best day of Yarrowclaw's life.

It was the worst day of Yarrowclaw's life.

Yarrowclaw stood, shuffling the human long pelt as she moved. Currentsmoke and Yellowburst stumbled up to the crowd of resting cats, relieved of duty for the moment. Yarrowclaw scuttled off the long pelt and gave the pair a place to fall. As the caretakers closed their eyes, Yarrowclaw remembered to breath. Maybe she could take up whatever task Currentsmoke and Yellowburst broke away from? Or she could help prepare a meal for all the hardworking cats who came to RippleClan's aid? The possibilites buzzed in Yarrowclaw's head.

"Yarrowclaw." Oilstar slipped out of the leader's den with Tallowheart at her side. Despite the storm making his ribs worse, the injured historian didn't seem in much pain. Yarrowclaw allowed herself to hold the sudden pride in her chest close. She made sure Oilstar did not lose her son. No matter the circumstances, Yarrowclaw could take pride in that… right?

"Anything you need from me, Oilstar?" Yarrowclaw asked, sitting at attention.

"I was talking with my son here," Oilstar purred, gently touching her nose to Tallowheart's cheek as she spoke, "and Tallowheart had an excellent idea. I thought I would get your opinion first before I called a Clan meeting, though." Yarrowclaw tilted her head. "It's your idea, Tallow. Go ahead."

"If you hadn't come to the medicine den," Tallowheart explained, dipping his head in humility, "the waves might have taken me. You saved my life, Midnightpaw's life, and probably all the clerics too."

"I was just following the vision Estherfern gave me," Yarrowclaw muttered. "If StarClan knew I wouldn't die, I had to keep others alive."

"It was incredible," Tallowheart purred. He flinched as his purr shifted his broken ribs, but he dug through the pain. "We're calling it the Ocean's Assault, and you're the hero of that story. Because of that, I suggested to my mom that she give you an honor title." What?

"What," Yarrowclaw said.

"I don't want to change your name if you don't want this," Oilstar added. "Still, I think you deserve it. You trusted StarClan's vision and saved your Clanmates. If that isn't worthy of an honor title, what is?"

"What would you call me?" Yarrowclaw said. Her words came before her thoughts.

"Floodsplash," Oilstar purred. Fire burned behind Yarrowclaw's eyes. It was a fire that torched her fur and melted her bones, yet she couldn't step out of it. She didn't have to think about it. She couldn't think about it. She couldn't imagine regret or caution, even though she knew, deep down, something screamed at her to just stay normal.

"I love it," Floodsplash said.

(Floodsplash: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)

(Oilstar: 104, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Tallowheart: 36, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

Floodsplash takes her brothers on patrol, hoping one of them would understand, only for them to start fighting.

[Image ID: Floodsplash listens as Anchovystrike, Currentsmoke, and Billowhaze argue, not paying attention to her. Speech bubbles with a mass of tangled swirls surround the trio of toms.]

Author's Note: this passage features discussion of mental illness and self-harm not typically seen in RippleClan's Promise. Reader's discretion is advised.

---

Sandhollow said it was good. Sandhollow said no matter how much Floodsplash's mind fluttered from maddening highs to strange, slugging lows, she could still deserve praise. She could still be honored as a hero and not fly away, never to land. After all, she did do something grand, she didn't imagine the vision, she was special on that grim day.

Floodsplash was a fly drowning in honey, its final moments consumed in unimaginable sweetness and bliss.

RippleClan had to harvest more of their herbs from the garden than the caretakers wanted if they hoped to restock the medicine den and prepare for winter. Floodsplash formed a patrol with her brothers, each burdened with large baskets, to harvest whatever they could. Brilliant red leaves fertilized the garden, hiding the medicine-rich roots and stems RippleClan needed. Paws crinkled and shoved the leaves aside in a soothing, quiet song. The littermates set their baskets at the garden's edge.

"Don't worry too much about seeds and replanting," Currentsmoke advised his littermates as they searched the garden rows for fully grown plants. "Me and the rest of the caretakers can get what we need out of what we harvest."

"We have fennel, burdock, chicory, mallow…" Floodsplash muttered, trotting from row to row. "We just use burdock roots, don't we? Let's leave the leaves, I know you said we don't need to worry about replanting, but why take what we don't need? Chicory, that's largely the roots too, right? We can probably do the same." Stars damn it, she was rambling again.

"Weevil taught me the best way to harvest the fennel," Anchovystrike chirped. "I'll handle that!" Anchovystrike ran a paw down a tall fennel stalk.

"Be careful of the year-old plants!" Currentsmoke warned as he dug at the burdock roots. Anchovystrike simply nodded and sliced his claw through the fronds and leaves. Billowhaze cupped his paw under a mallow flower, peering into the soft petals.

The littermates worked in silence, save for Floodsplash's gentle muttering. She couldn't stop the onslaught of words that tumbled out as she danced through the garden. The more she spoke, even at a whisper, the more her thoughts grew fuzzy.

She shouldn't have been working.

"Valleypaw was so excited to work in the garden," Billowhaze muttered, snapping Floodsplash back to reality before she dug through a chicory root. Currentsmoke and Anchovystrike paused in their work.

Valleypaw. Maybe it wasn't too late. Floodsplash would survive the flood, she would survive anything involving the flood, right? That's how the vision worked. There could be a ritual. If she found Valleypaw's body, maybe she could put his soul back. Wasn't that possible? She would swim out to sea and drag it back. She would—Floodsplash's heart spasmed. No. No no no no no. Not again. That wasn't true, that wouldn't work. But with StarClan—NO! Floodsplash's claws pierced the chicory root.

"Asterblaze should never have sent him out of camp," Anchovystrike sighed. He placed a pawful of fennel into the basket sitting next to him.brought a mouthful of fennel to his basket near Currentsmoke.

"None of us knew that wave was coming, Anchovystrike," Currentsmoke whined softly, pushing aside a burdock root. "It would have been Asterblaze if it hadn't been Valleypaw."

"He was Valleypaw's mentor," Anchovystrike snapped. He spat out a clingy frond of fennel. "He had a responsibility to keep him safe. He's barely mourned him!"

"That's not fair," Currentsmoke huffed, facing his brother. "Asterblaze has been wearing himself down to rebuild the camp. Of course he's mourning Valleypaw."

"Since when have you been so against Asterblaze?" Billowhaze added, stepping away from his work.

"I'm just saying, he should have taken the more dangerous job," Anchovystrike grumbled with a thrash of his tail. "It's… we don't even have his body to mourn! Can you imagine how Midnightpaw feels right now? All I did was make a comment and suddenly everyone feels the need to defend Asterblaze. Let's go back to work." No, let's not. Floodsplash needed to stop. The crumbled remains of the chicory root rested in front of her.

"Anchovystrike…" Currentsmoke groaned, whiskers twitching awkwardly. "Are you sure you're talking about Asterblaze here? Maybe you're…. talking about yourself, too?" Anchovystrike's tail fluffed up, high and shivering.

"Midnightpaw got his eye scratched," Anchovystrike barked. "He didn't die, Currentsmoke!"

"You know what he means," Billowhaze sighed.

"Help," Floodsplash gulped.

"Yes, and I don't even know why we're arguing about this," Anchovystrike groaned. "It's all so dumb! I just made a stupid comment, and now you're saying that taking my apprentice hunting is as bad as sending him out in a flood!"

"It was an accident!" Billowhaze and Currentsmoke yowled at once.

"I need help," Floodsplash said. Her mouth was dry. Maybe she could stop their arguing by climbing up a tree and jumping into them, that would shut them up. How selfish were they? Was Floodsplash the only one still doing her work? For StarClan's sake, could one of them listen to her?

"Everything's an accident, everything's on purpose," Anchovystrike hissed, bobbing side to side with emphasis. "I've been fixing the dens non-stop since we got back into camp, maybe I, I want someone to blame! Who else am I going to blame, Yar—I mean Floodsplash? She actually saved lives, Aster—"

"I'm going to kill myself!" Floodsplash shrieked. There. That got her brothers' attention. Their eyes snapped on her like hunters upon a foaming rabbit. Floodsplash panted like she ran across all five Clans. He skin burned and the buzzing in her head clawed at her good eye. She let her mouth go. "I don't trust myself, and I don't want to do anything to myself, so I need you to shut up and help me get home."

Floodsplash sat. Or perhaps she fell. She couldn't tell.

"Alright," Billowhaze choked out, voice as dry as Floodsplash's mouth. "Alright, we… we have plans for this." He glanced at Anchovystrike and Currentsmoke. All three toms had deep shadows over their faces. "Uh… do you…"

"I don't know what's true right now," Floodsplash warned. She sank slowly. A familiar feral panic gripped her chest. "I need to use my powers and help the Clan. I don't have powers, I can't have powers, I can't be special. I'm going to get myself killed. Why did Estherfern tell me about that star-damned vision?" Currentsmoke nuzzled Floodsplash, whimpering deeply.

"I don't know what to tell you," Anchovystrike muttered. Billowhaze gently nudged Floodsplash back to her paws. Her feet burned.

"I know your mind takes things too far," Currentsmoke whined, "but you can still be important."

"I don't want to die," Floodsplash cried. She should have died in the flood. It didn't make sense that she didn't. Why did it have to be her?

But Floodsplash wasn't going to die. For once, that wasn't mania whispering tempting tales of invulnerability. Billowhaze and Currentsmoke pressed against either side of her, baskets abandoned. Anchovystrike led them back toward camp. Floodsplash let herself stumble into her brothers.

It was tempting to call her own mind a battlefield, her condition a war. It certainly felt as deadly at times. Yet her brothers were not warriors at her side, and, as Sandhollow would soon tell Floodsplash while setting up a nest in the medicine den, she couldn't fight herself.

With her brothers' aid, all Floodsplash had to do was weather the floodwaters.

(Floodsplash: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)

(Currentsmoke: 35, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, inventor and innovator)

(Anchovystrike: 35, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)