#puddlesplash

Night yawned, picking herself up from her nest. She slept beneath a Twoleg porch with her guardian, a grouchy old cat named Rime.

“Let’s get a move on before Snotlout starts bothering us.” Rime barked, referring to the kittypet that lived in the house above.

“But I wanted to sleep in!” Night whined.

“You sound like a kittypet. Come on, let’s hunt.”

As they stepped through the Twoleg place, Night had an idea. “Can we hunt on the other side of the Thunderpath today?”

Rime grunted. “Do you think you’ll find them this time?”

Night sighed. “I really hope so.”

It wasn’t always just Rime and Night. Once, she was known as Nightkit— a cat born of the clans in the wilderness beyond the Twoleg place. Night was only just a moon old when her clan was attacked, and everyone slaughtered within it. Sometimes, she wanted to go back to her old territory, but there seemed to be new residents. A clan she didn’t recognize prowled in their old hunting grounds. She was always chased off before she could make her way to their old camp.

Night knew that after all this time— half a year, as Rime called it— the likelihood of her parents still being alive was slim. Still, she held onto hope that someday, she could rejoin her family in whatever form they existed in.

“If you join those there feral cats, I won’t be coming with.” Rime said sadly. “My old bones wouldn’t be able to live there in those meadows. I won’t be able to support myself on those slim pickings.”

Night nodded. “I know, Rime. I know there isn’t a high chance of anyone in my old clan still being alive. I’ll probably stay with you until you keel over— but that’ll probably be a long time away!”

Rime swat at the young cat’s head playfully. “Stop flattering me, Night.”

They didn’t end up crossing the Thunderpath— Night figured that was for the best anyways. As much as she hoped to find her family again, she knew she’d probably be chased away again.

They spent the latter half of the day chasing away the cold by hiding under their porch. The Twoleg nests provided a lot of heat, which was needed for the chillier days. Night found herself drifting to sleep once more.

When she awoke, it was to the smell of smoke. The porch was saturated with it— the Twoleg nest must be on fire!

Night ran out from beneath the porch frantically, hacking out a lung from the smoke. She couldn’t see Rime anywhere. Where was he?!

“Rime!” she yowled, looking for any trace of the old tom. Twoleg monsters swarmed the nest, and Twolegs raced around. One spotted her, approaching.

She hissed, running away. She’d find Rime later. First, she needed to get to safety! She realized the only place that was safe would be the other side of the Thunderpath.

Taking a deep breath (before coughing up a storm), she ran across. She hasn’t properly looked both ways, but she was desperate!

She heard the sound of a deafening bellow, causing her to jump. A monster was barreling towards her!

She bolted, but it was not fast enough. She felt unimaginable pain as she flew to the side of the Thunderpath. Her eyes fluttered as she coughed weakly. Was this how it ended?

The last thing she saw before she faded into unconsciousness was a group of cats, faintly in the distance.

—

Night found herself curled up in a warm nursery, wedged between a little black cat and a large gray cat. It was a dream she had often; it was her mother and sister. She didn’t remember their faces, only their scent and the way they felt that fateful night.

As always, though she wanted to stay in the warmth, she untucked herself from the cocoon and waddled out of the nursery. She was a very big kit by this point— nearly one whole moon, and exploring was on her mind. Leafpelt was so strict, always keeping her in the nursery. Well not tonight!

She crouched down as to not be seen by the other warriors. As sneaky as possible. She made it all the way to the warriors den before someone saw her.

“Now, what are you doing?”

A white molly stood before her.

Blazestar!

Little Nightkit stammered, facing her leader.

“Um… I wanted to explore.”

Blazestar chuckled. “How very brave of you. I remember when Puddlesplash and Swanjaw were still kits. They did the same thing.”

Nightkit gasped. “Really?”

Swanjaw and Puddlesplash were Blazestar’s own children. She’d seen Swanjaw duck in to tend to his three kits, who were much bigger than her.

“They’re just like me? So I could become a great warrior someday?” Nightkit said.

Blazestar smiled at her. “Of course.”

Night wanted to savor this moment. Surrounded by the happiness and tight-knit life of her clan. However, she knew what would come next.

She heard yowling at the center of camp. Blazestar looked over. Her face was as horrified as Night remembered.

“Oh, is someone playing? I want to play to!” Nightkit yipped, waddling towards the noise.

Blazestar stopped her. “How about we play a special leader game?”

“Ooo, I want to play that instead!” she said.

Blazestar lifted her by her scruff and dropped her higher up the hill. “It’s called Grangeclan run. Run through the gap in the bushes and keep going until you reach Grangeclan camp. Whoever gets there first wins! I’ll give you a head start.”

She stammered. “But… I don’t want to run so far.”

Nightkit looked back at Blazestar when an unfamiliar cat pounced on her. Blazestar yowled, throwing them off. “Nightkit, run!”

She sprinted as fast as she could, following her leader’s commands. Fear quickened her steps. Did Blazestar know the clan would be wiped out? She wondered about it many times over.

As she ran, she cried out, “Leafpelt! Mommy! Where are you?!” But Night always knew things ended the same. Leafpelt was always gone, and she was always running.

—

“You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke, huh. And survived a monster hit— I wonder who you are, little cat.

Night slowly opened her eyes to see what looked something like a small cave. Two toms sat at the entrance— one was a gruff, black tom with a large scar on his muzzle and the other was a calico with a white back half— though neither was looking at her. She didn’t think they knew she was awake.

“What are we looking at here, Rainfeather?” The black tom asked.

“Well, she seems to be around six or seven moons, I’d reckon. It’s old enough. Besides… she was saying Starleaf’s old name. I think it’s her.” The other tom, presumably Rainfeather responded.

The black tom sighed. “After all this time… she was right. Nightkit…”

He turned, and she pretended to be asleep. She wasn’t even sure why. He padded over to where Night lay. He pressed himself next to her.

“Do you even remember me, Nightkit? You were so young when everything happened. Please, wake up. Your mother and I miss you so much.”

He was her father?

She knew that her father used to see her in the nursery every day. His name was Darkheart, she thought. She couldn’t remember his face, but if it was true… she’d be so happy.

She pretended to wake up. “Darkheart?” she said. “Are you really my father?”

He looked overjoyed. “Yes, Nightkit. It’s me. Darkheart. I’m so glad you’re awake,” He barked to Rainfeather. “Get Starleaf. Quickly!”

He turned back to her. “Are you ok? Does anything hurt?”

She thought about it. Her throat was still sore and scratchy from the fire, and she could feel a dull pain in her leg. “My throat hurts. My leg, not as much.”

“The poppy seeds are working then.” He sighed. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

A gray molly entered the den, her purple eyes shining. “Oh, Nightkit! You’re alright!”

She joined Night’s other side. Her scent was just as she remembered from that night as a kit. It was really her— Leafpelt!

“Leafpelt, mom, it’s really you!” she cried.

She nuzzled Night. “It’s Starleaf now. And your father is leader— Darkstar is his new name.”

“That means— you rebuilt the clan?” she asked.

“Yes. With help from my former kin in the Wanderers. We’ve done a good job of creating this new clan. It’s called Crystalclan. When you’re well enough, I’ll show you around.”

She felt at peace. Somehow, the impossible happened. But someone was missing.

“Where’s Ravenkit?” she asked.

Darkstar sighed. “With Starclan, now.”

Her heart dropped. It hurt, but part of her knew. She just didn’t want to accept it.

“Please focus on healing for now. We’re just so happy we got you back. Don’t worry about anything else.” Starleaf rested her muzzle on Night’s head. “I’m sure Ravenkit will visit you in your dreams.”

—

It took Night a few days to heal enough. She wasn’t perfect yet— her throat still required a lot of honey and poppy seeds to feel normal— but she could walk without pain. Starleaf had shown her around the camp.

It was a small sandstone cave, with a stream rushing through the center. On the higher side was the nursery, where a queen was currently grooming her kits’ wild fur, and the elder’s den. It was empty for now, but Starleaf said that some of the older warriors would be retiring there soon.

On the lower side, the cleric den was a large outcropping of the cave. An open section allowed for a patch of grass, where Rainfeather grew important herbs that couldn’t be found with foraging. Two extra caves acted as the recovery den where she slept and Rainfeather’s den, where he also kept his herb stocks. The warrior’s den was also on this side— a stout log dragged into the cave lined with nests. At the very center of the lower half was the crystal rock, which towered above everything else.

Darkstar was stood upon the rock. Night wondered what was going on.