#riftgorse

Branchsnarl and Airswift argue over nesting space in the warrior's den. Cloudthunder is frustrated when she has to break them up. Airswift scoffs and storms off.

(Branchsnarl, warrior, trans male, 16 moons. Ambitious.) (Airswift, warrior, male, 11 moons. Charismatic.) (Cloudthunder, warrior, female, 54 moons. Loyal.)

Deerpaw brought back some feathers for the kits to play with.

(Deerpaw, apprentice, female, 11 moons. Righteous.) (Hazelkit, kitten, male, 1 moon. Charming.) (Ghostkit, kitten, male, 1 moon. Shy.) (Mulberrykit, kitten, female, 1 moon. Quiet.)

Morningspot teaches Owlpaw battle moves. Owlpaw focuses intensely on this, excelling in the lesson. Morningspot praises her during sparring. The excess effort releases enough of Owlpaw's stress for her to no longer feel helpless. Owlpaw is no longer Afflicted.

(Morningspot, warrior, female, 23 moons. Nervous.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 8 moons. Adventurous.)

Perchwatcher appreciates Brackenfreckle's hard work, even if Brackenfreckle acts grumpy at times.

(Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 16 moons. Responsible.) (Brackenfreckle, healer, female, 19 moons. Grumpy.)

Blackpaw and Riftgorse catch Branchsnarl doing something embarassing and promise not to tell.

(Branchsnarl, warrior, trans male, 16 moons. Ambitious.) (Riftgorse, warrior, male, 19 moons. Charismatic.) (Blackpaw, apprentice, female, 6 moons. Insecure.)

Redstar takes Cottonpaw and Deerpaw out training, and brings Barleywave with them. Redstar teaches the apprentices the new procedure of how to handle Nature's Mockeries.

(Redstar, leader, female, 80 moons. Strict.) (Barleywave, warrior, male, 50 moons. Playful.) (Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 11 moons. Bold.) (Deerpaw, apprentice, female, 11 moons. Righteous.)

---

Things had moved quickly while Redstar was sick with whitecough. It had only been two moons since the Gardener attack, but already ForestClan was shifting in a new direction. Redstar was somewhat grateful that she managed to iron out new lockdown and out-of-camp procedures before she became too sick to think straight. Now, with a clearer head, she could really observe the results.

The slick, green Twoleg linen that Lucifer had gifted them was waterproof - to the Clan's excitement. There was a bit of bickering about where it could best be used, before settling on using it to shield the cooking fire and drying racks, to keep the area free of snow in the coming leaf-bare.

Barleywave led the charge in helping with wall repairs over the past two moons - they only had to fully replace one full tree trunk in the end. Other pieces of the wall were being repaired by cutting away broken sections, and flattening out logs to stack on top of each other; securing them with twine and pine sap. It was an all-day affair to drag and erect a suitable replacement for the completely obliterated section. She remembered hovering around anxiously as it was being dragged with rope, group effort, and careful guidance. She would've assisted, if it weren't for literally everyone telling her to go away before she spread whitecough to them. But still - they succeeded, and the wall was replaced, even if a few sections were uneven.

Cottonpaw's idea for a bunker closer to the ground was well received - and it was decided to be made closer to the medicine den. It would need to be built in newleaf, since the snow would get in the way of hollowing out the space. Still - Redstar's heart warmed when she saw a pile of design concepts etched in birch bark laying next to Cottonpaw's bedding.

Torch bearings were erected near the gate doors. Repairing the broken pulley for the gate took a few weeks - until then, cats mostly weaved through the gap made by the loose door. She was grateful that Branchsnarl, Olive and Perchwatcher had managed to find an oak log suited to replacing the pulley; with enough carving and wearing down. It was a good beginner lesson for Blackpaw and Shadepaw in camp-keeping. A shame Shadepaw caught yellowcough after all that - he seemed enthused.

So much more had changed that caused Redstar's head to spin. She learned that Olive was learning some proper sparring techniques with Barleywave - pushed by the new rule of needing to learn combat with fire. Owlpaw was still distant, but Redstar learned that Owlpaw taught herself how to craft frames with twine and sticks as meditation, and Daffodilpaw started putting them together. The sisters created in silence with no expectations - and now, a cube, a pyramid and a ball-like toy were strewn about the entrance of the nursery, with Iciclepool and Hopechase's kits batting at them. Cats were going over how to deal with Woodcrawlers and Fake Cats if they were encountered in the woods. The only true roadblock was the red, fleshlike Woodcrawler that Shiverstep spoke of - and that Brackenfreckle confirmed the existence of. The only method of defense they knew was backing away from it slowly - but even then, the two mollies weren't sure of anything beyond that. Fire would be their weapon against it until they knew more.

Redstar decided today to teach the procedure against Nature's Mockery.

She gathered Cottonpaw, and Deerpaw, and had Barleywave join. After all, he was the one who found one growing in a small clearing devoid of shrubs or wilted overgrowth. They needed to handle it soon, before the first snowfall came and buried half of it.

"Cottonpaw, watch where you're turning here. Shrub branches," Barleywave meowed.

"Yeah, I know, I'm careful," Cottonpaw replied. Redstar suppressed a scowl. She twitched her ear.

"You're carrying our flame. He's right to warn you," she said.

"Well yeah, I know, but I think you guys underestimate how sturdy these containers are! What did Lucifer call them, jars?" Cottonpaw asked as she glanced down at the transparent, Twoleg container that was strapped to a leather harness at her side. In the container was a pile of hot cinders, cushioned by a thin mouse pelt at the bottom. A golden lid with many small holes allowed strands of smoke to escape. Her hazel eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "Perchwatcher's brilliant! She came up with the idea to use these to - "

"It doesn't matter, Cottonpaw, those things still can break! Remember the one mom dropped?" Deerpaw interjected, her tail flicking. "The pierces were sharp! We have to be careful anyway."

Cottonpaw's fur bristled as she carefully moved around the shrubs. "I know that! I'm just saying that - "

"Hey." Redstar interjected firmly. The two littermates fell silent. Redstar's ear swiveled, keeping her voice leveled. "You are in the woods. Our opponents are ambush predators. Be alert and aware."

Barleywave, who was leading the front, flicked his tail once in agreement. "It's worth keeping an ear out."

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw were silent for the remainder of the patrol.

Finally, after a few minutes, Barleywave stopped before the start of a clearing, sloped down in a path of tree roots and scattered stones. He beckoned Redstar with his tail quietly. The leader padded beside him and scanned the scene before her. The ground was cold and dry with wilted nettles and blackened leaves, seasonal weeds and plants had wilted and died out in the leafbare chill. In the shadows of the spruce trees, Redstar spotted it. It could've been mistaken for the burned remains of a Twoleg fire from afar - laying in a triangular shape. But ForestClan knew better.

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw slowly crept beside the two warriors, spotting the Nature's Mockery nestled near a set of trees below. Deerpaw cautiously raised her nose and tasted the air.

"The wind is blowing the opposite direction," she noted.

Redstar nodded. "Yes. Otherwise, you likely would smell something by now, though faint." Redstar cautiously took a few pawsteps forward. "We should be safe - stay two foxlengths away from it."

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw obeyed as they shuffled their way down, careful not to drag any nettles or stones with them. Barleywave staggered forward more confidently, removing a long, makeshift torch from the harness he strapped on his back.

"Barley," Redstar hissed in warning.

"This one's already hatched, Redstar," he pointed out.

"Yes, I know that, but we're teaching a procedure. At least treat it like one."

Barleywave mumbled something, his ears flattening. He sat down opposite of Redstar, as Cottonpaw and Deerpaw sat side by side, staring at the Nature's Mockery apprehensively. Cottonpaw twitched and started withdrawing the glass jar from her pouch with her mouth.

"So. Brief refresher - Cottonpaw, give us a description of the Nature's Mockery," Redstar asked. Cottonpaw let out a grunt as she pulled out the jar.

"A' a'ure's 'ockery ish - ack, 'old on," Cottonpaw slowly placed the jar on the ground, then licked her teeth and let out a quick yawn. "Sorry! Nature's Mockery are plants created by Deep Root entities. They tend to just appear overnight, so we're not sure how they make them. They look like that," she said as she pointed towards it. Her attempt at levity brought a smirk to Barleywave, but Deerpaw and Redstar seemed unamused. Cottonpaw cleared her throat awkwardly. "Er…but they can be brown or more reddish too."

"Good," Redstar nodded. "Deerpaw, tell me what it does."

Deerpaw straightened. "If you touch one, you're likely to experience horrible symptoms. The most common are hallucinations and paralysis. Stay in contact too long and your cuts stop healing and bones can fracture."

"Yes, close."

"Close?" Deerpaw repeated, baffled. "But - that's what Riversnow taught me!"

"And she's right," Barleywave interjected. "But it's the, uh…polite way of putting it. You're almost of warrior age now, it's fine to be blunt about it." Barleywave winced as he continued. "The, uh…official symptoms for prolonged contact are body disfigurement and flesh decay."

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw both bristled. Deerpaw recovered, her fur flattening quickly. Cottonpaw a little less so - her hazel eyes intently focused on the splitting effigy before them.

"You've been advised that red or brown Mockeries are to be avoided. Correct?" Redstar asked. Both apprentices nodded.

"Then today, I'm showing you how to destroy one, per our new procedure."

Cottonpaw raised a paw, then spoke without waiting for an answer. "Was Airswift shown this before he graduated?"

Redstar frowned at her apprentice. Cottonpaw blinked, somewhat regretful, but still kept her gaze. Redstar knew that Cottonpaw and Deerpaw weren't pleased that their brother became a warrior before them, but she had good reasons for it. Namely, Airswift was incredible at taking directions and listening to older warriors. He was volunteering to join patrols of his own accord, and performed apprentice tasks like cleaning out bedding and kit-care without complaint. He had shown considerable maturity during his apprenticehood - and she had no reason to doubt that Airswift would learn this procedure alongside the younger warriors tomorrow.

"I plan to have him join Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher tomorrow for an outing. They will also need to learn this. It's a new procedure entirely."

Cottonpaw's ear flicked. She placed her paw back down and stared at the jar before her. "Okay. So, how do we start?"

"Step one: big stick," Barleywave piped up, picking the stick back up. "Step two, light stick on fire. Step three, set mousedunged plant on fire."

Redstar glared at Barleywave with exasperation. "No, not quite."

"I mean, that is the long and short of it," the tom insisted.

"Barley, you were at the meeting."

"I know! I know, I'm teasing," Barleywave said defensively. Redstar rolled her eyes, deciding she'd lead the lesson. She approached him, and Barleywave decided to surrender the floor to her and gave her the stick. Redstar turned towards the Nature's Mockery.

For a moment, she observed it intensely. Its form told a story of tangling vines reaching and circling towards the sky, until their own weight caused them to bend and fall into one another. Stems would split and reach towards a perch - another tree, their own bodies, whatever it took - and thick, flesh-like membranes would fill the gaps left behind by the engulfing roots. A horrible mimicry of a protective shield - an egg, a womb, a den.

There was a final feeling of anger and determination that filled her chest. Then, she began.

"First - determine the life stage of the Mockery. This is important." Redstar turned to glance at her apprentice as she said this. "Do not skip this stage. Red or brown Mockeries are fresh, and likely to inflict more harmful symptoms. They are more likely to have roots that extend further out from their base - meaning that you can step on one without realizing it. Watch your step and ensure you have a clear, stable path to both approach and leave as fast as possible."

Deerpaw and Cottonpaw glanced around at their feet, then the Nature's Mockery. Deerpaw's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the plant's exterior.

"This one's black. Is it dead?"

"Correct. This is a dead or dying Mockery. It is the safest variant, but you can still be afflicted by mild symptoms if you touch it."

Cottonpaw flicked her ear and got to her feet. "Okay. Which one is more dangerous - a red or brown one?"

Barleywave shrugged and responded. "We don't make it a habit to test that, so we don't know. We assume the red one is more dangerous, since it's still growing - but both are hazardous."

"Regardless," Redstar interjected, "Stay alert at all times. For the second step of the procedure - carefully light the torch with the cinders brought. Do not do this alone. For the sake of demonstration, I'll be burning this Mockery today - we'll practice technique on a dummy near camp."

Cottonpaw seemed to brighten with recognition, her tail flicking "Oh yeah! Perchwatcher was working on that," she said.

Deerpaw rolled her eyes. "You were also distracting her a lot." Deerpaw immediately regretted it as Redstar whipped her gaze on her. Barleywave waved his tail in front of Redstar, prompting peace. He gestured his head to Cottonpaw. The apprentice just made a face and shrugged, unbothered. The calico suppressed a sigh.

"Open the jar, please."

Cottonpaw held it down with her paws and gnawed it slightly to force the lid to turn. When it loosened, she batted at it with one of her paws until it came off. She held it out and watched Redstar expectantly.

"Hold it in place," Redstar ordered. Cottonpaw obeyed, and Redstar tilted the torch into the cinders. After a few moments, smoke emitted from the torch, rising upward.

"Now tilt the jar slightly, so I can remove the torch without extinguishing the flame." Cottonpaw obeyed, and Redstar grasped the torch tightly in her jaws before removing it slowly. The moment the torch came into contact with the air, the resin-covered birch bark was set ablaze brightly, causing the two apprentices to recoil in surprise. Barleywave let out a mrrow of amusement.

"You've seen how birch bark burns before. It doesn't make cinders, but it burns bright and fast."

"The pine resin maintains the flame and burns the torch for a while - but not too long. Enough to create cinders to burn the Mockery with," Redstar added. She turned solemnly to the Mockery. "The final steps - approach the Mockery slowly. Do not rush. If the flame goes out - so be it. Your life is more valuable than doing this task quickly. Watch me carefully."

Redstar slowly scanned her feet, taking careful steps forward. She scrutinized the ground for any stray deep roots and foreign things. She could hear Barleywave lightly continuing the lesson - pointing out how the leader looked carefully around her every time, and made sure each of her steps was safe and calculated. Finally, when Redstar came within reach, she held her breath as the Nature's Mockery imposed itself upon her. Like it dared her to take another step.

Redstar paused as she stared at the interior of the Mockery - rotting and collapsing like a destroyed nest. Bits of debris and flesh-like webbing still clung onto the branches.

For a moment, she thought she saw curled branches within its heart, like the corpse of a dead insect. Apprehension surged through her; her body warning her that she was poking a sleeping bear.

She pushed it aside. The Mockery was dead. There was nothing inside.

Redstar slowly extended the torch within the plant's cavity. The flames licked at the black fibres above it, until another flame was born, consuming the webbing like clouds swallow sunlight. Redstar continued to bring the torch to other flammable locations, and eventually, whisps of fire slowly ate away at every strand and tendril. Redstar then slowly withdrew the torch, turned around, and retraced her steps. The apprentice's gazes were focused intensely on the spectacle that the torch had given - there were no flames, or heat. It was like swarms of insects were devouring every inch of the Mockery at lightning speed, leaving red imprints before dissolving into ash.

Redstar dug a small hole in the cold, wet ground, and stabbed the lit torch into it, extinguishing the cinders. "I can do this because it's leafbare, and the ground is wet and frozen. Do not do this in any other season, or you'll risk causing a forest fire. Normally, we'd bring water - to both extinguish the torch, and douse the Mockery once it's finished burning."

And for a while, that was it. The four cats grimly stared as the Nature's Mockery burned away slowly, until one of its structural branches snapped and collapsed. The structure fell apart like firewood, until all that was left was soot-colored debris.

"The point isn't to make every bit of it dead - just destroy its structure. It's…similar to destroying a tree. It won't grow leaves or spit sap if it's a mere stump."

From the look in the apprentices' eyes, Redstar knew they absorbed the lesson.

As the patrol packed up and headed back towards camp, Deerpaw and Barleywave treaded further ahead, with Redstar and Cottonpaw trailing behind.

Cottonpaw spoke. "Hey, Redstar?"

Redstar's ear twitched in response.

"There's something that's been on my mind for a while. I've put it aside for the most part, but…I guess it came back to me today."

Redstar glanced at her apprentice. Cottonpaw stared straight ahead, wordlessly putting one foot in front of the other. The way Cottonpaw began her sentence seemed heavy, which concerned Redstar.

"What is it?"

"I guess seeing the dead Mockery just…had me remembering something is all." Cottonpaw swallowed. "...Fake Cats. I've never seen one. The cats are…dead. Right?"

Redstar flinched, stopping briefly in her tracks before restarting. "Sorry. Yes, they are. We know this with certainty."

"How? If you don't mind me asking." Cottonpaw sounded uncharacteristically timid.

Redstar let out a purr of reassurance. Fake Cats were unnerving as a concept, nevermind a real, existing threat. It was a common fear that Fake Cats were not truly dead - one she was happy to dispel. "First, we know through our connection with StarClan. Clerics would reach out to StarClan to find if a lost cat was among them - and if they were, their Fake would be found after a few days. I've seen it happen myself when I was younger. Second, in the rare occasions that we'd fight and defeat them - Fake Cats were always husks, inhabited by Deep Roots. No eyes, no organs, just puppets." Redstar glanced at Cottonpaw. "Fake Cats are not alive. That much I can promise."

Cottonpaw said nothing.

"...Is there something else bothering you?"

"...What about Fake Twolegs?"

Redstar shook her head. "We don't know enough about them to say. They're far more dangerous than Fake Cats are. We don't go near them." Redstar paused. "...I know you and Deerpaw encountered one last greenleaf."

"Yeah…I guess I just…" Cottonpaw stared at the floor before taking a deep breath. "I dunno. It feels weird to say, but…I hope they're dead too."

"I imagine they would be. Woodcrawlers hunt and eat. It'd be like if we kept mice alive in camp for whatever reason - tedious and disruptive."

This drew a short laugh out of Cottonpaw. "Aw, are we sure we don't want mice eating our jerky?"

"No, we do not," Redstar meowed. A smirk broke on her face, despite herself. But after some time, discomfort nestled in Redstar's chest. A thought occurred to her, and it refused to stay bottled. Reluctantly, she meowed, "Is there a reason why you doubt their deaths?"

Cottonpaw fell silent, her hazel eyes distant. She didn't stop moving, letting the silence hang uncomfortably with every step they took. For a moment, Redstar thought that Cottonpaw was going to pretend she didn't hear her. Unfortunately for Redstar, Cottonpaw had an answer.

"...It chased us, you know. The Fake Twoleg."

Redstar bristled. "You never said it chased you."

"I know. I'm sorry about that." Cottonpaw sounded genuinely remorseful, forcing Redstar to flatten her fur. "At the time, I told myself I didn't want to be in even more trouble than I already was. But…I think I was just scared to acknowledge it. I think Deerpaw was too." Cottonpaw looked up at Deerpaw and Barleywave up ahead, watching them converse like a pair of songbirds. "I didn't want to make anyone overthink things. Especially if we're sure that we're okay, you know?"

There was a long pause. The leafbare breeze picked up. The sun barely gasped through the surface of the grey sky. "It's just...the Fake Twoleg had eyes, still. That's why I was worried."

---

"I bet you're glad you get to spend at least a little time away from your sister now, eh?" Cloudthunder said with a half-laugh.

Daffodilpaw tore her admiring gaze away from the color-changing leaves above them. She tilted her head at her mentor.

"I mean…I like spending time with you, and exploring, but…I wouldn't be mad if Owlpaw was here or anything." The apprentice's thoughts came out choppy.

Cloudthunder's tail flicked. "Doesn't she bully you? I saw how she treated you as a kit sometimes," she meowed.

Daffodilpaw sheepishly pawed at the leaf litter, looking away. "I mean…maybe? I dunno. I wouldn't call it bullying." The golden molly sat down, and Cloudthunder echoed the gesture attentively. Thoughts seemed to roil in Daffodilpaw's head, looking to be picked out like mats in fur. "I mean, she's rude sometimes. But she's not all bad. She can be nice. I think she just...doesn't know she's being mean sometimes."

Cloudthunder's ear twitched. Curious. She never had littermates, so she wasn't really sure how the bond between them worked. She gained some insight when she had her own kits, but they were never as hostile to other cats as Owlpaw was. She did find it strange that as the moons went by, Daffodilpaw went from being upset about Owlpaw's behavior to more…accepting, if she could even call it that.

"Well, even so, it's bad for ForestClan's unity to have resentment between clanmates, especially in these woods," Cloudthunder meowed as she stood back to her feet. "I hope that her training helps her feel less angry at others."

"Me too," Daffodilpaw said with a glint in her eyes.

And honestly? That was good. That was all there was to it. Cloudthunder was glad her apprentice was keeping a positive attitude and wasn't letting the words of others get under her skin. It was more than she could ever ask for. And for the next few days, Cloudthunder settled into a routine she enjoyed - she woke up early, helped make breakfast if needed, greeted her children and asked them if they slept well (Cottonpaw and Airpaw slept like logs, Deerpaw was a bit more restless), then recruited her apprentice to teach her how to do her chores and bring her on patrols, teaching her the lay of the land, hunting and battle.

Which is why, one evening, as the sun was setting, she knew something was wrong.

Daffodilpaw was tense since the morning. Her jaw was tight. She barely spoke. Her eyes were focused, but unreadable. She deflected when asked if anything was wrong. She insisted she was okay, just tired.

When the sun had set and the evening buzz around the Clan settled, with cats sharing tongues and cleaning up the last of their meal, it was clear something was wrong with Daffodilpaw. Cloudthunder glanced around camp to look for her, only to see her back as the young cat was staring at the camp walls.

Cloudthunder's ear twitched.

For a brief moment, an echo of pain rippled under her skin. A drifting memory of seeing her mother sitting at the top of the camp walls and weeping into the night.

Cloudthunder stepped away from the dying fire and approached her apprentice. Daffodilpaw was trembling.

"...Daffodilpaw? Is everything alright?" The warrior padded slowly around until she sat beside her.

Daffodilpaw was wide-eyed with terror. Cloudthunder failed to stop her neck fur from rising.

"Daffodil."

The apprentice's eyes were the same color as her mother's. And reflected the same look that Riversnow had the day she gave birth to them. Dread. Hopelessness.

Cloudthunder swallowed. "...It's going to be okay." She failed to hide her wavering. "But you have to say something."

Immediately, Daffodilpaw burst into tears, crouching on the floor and burying her tail between her legs. She blubbered a response. "It's my fault, it's my fault, I couldn't - I couldn't stop her, I couldn't - "

Daffodilpaw's high-pitched whines grabbed the attention of other cats, who whipped their heads in their direction.

"Shh, no, no it's not," Cloudthunder reassured with desperation. "Daffodilpaw, what happened?"

"I-It's Owlpaw," Daffodilpaw sobbed. "O-Owlpaw n-never wanted to be mean! She never wanted to b-be, b-but she felt - she - she didn't believe me, I tried to tell her that the monsters are real, b-but - "

More cats now stirred and started padding over with wide eyes and bristling pelts, and Cloudthunder felt like they were being cornered by a pack of dogs. She hissed instinctively, to the dismay of Riversnow, who hissed in return and was held back by Barleywave. The two mollies stared at each other in bewilderment from each other's reactions.

Daffodilpaw covered her eyes with her paws. "O-Owlpaw s-said that she never saw a Deep Root entity before in her entire life, a-and she said that we were all lying to her! T-The kits from outside were probably just abandoned, a-and Shiverstep and Brackenfreckle wanted to scare us and prove the adults' stories true, a-and Warblerkit probably wasn't real, a-and - "

Cloudthunder's heart was set on fire and her ears pumped with blood. Oh no. No.

It was dark. The horror she had when Cottonpaw and Deerpaw had vanished in the middle of the night returned to her.

No. StarClan, please, no.

"Daffodilpaw," Redstar stepped out of the crowd, tall and imposing, her voice cutting through the apprentice's rant. Her blue eyes were set ablaze. "What happened?"

Daffodilpaw looked up at Redstar, her ears flattening. "Owlpaw said s-she was going to prove herself to everyone, she was going to prove to me that the monsters aren't real by going out of camp at night the next day, and that I shouldn't tell anyone, but I - "

Cloudthunder felt the noise of camp blur around her. Instinctively, she dashed to the apprentice's den and looked inside, desperate to see pale ginger fur sulking in a lump within.

Owlpaw's nest was empty.

---

Owlpaw patrols angrily around the territory, bitter about the horrible stories of "the woods eating them" and monsters lurking. ForestClan were liars and cruel adults, telling horrible stories to keep kits in camp and scare apprentices. In another time, Owlpaw would be doing an apprentice trial right now.

(Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 6 moons. Adventurous.)

---

Owlpaw hissed as she slashed her claws across a tree in passing. She felt the bark splinter off and fling into the overgrowth. Good. All of it was bulrush fluff anyway.

"Are you gonna come out of a burrow? Or drop from a tree? Huh?" Owlpaw snarled to the wind. Her tail thrashed as she walked down the tread path.

ForestClan were liars. All of them. Each and every single one of them, her mom and apparent dad included. The only one who probably wasn't, was her sister, who was just scared and blindly trusting. Maybe the three dark-furred kits were in the same boat. But the rest of them were mangy and foxhearted.

Owlpaw was going to defy them. Prove them wrong. There were no monsters in the stupid woods. She was six moons old, and had never seen a single monster in her entire life.

At first, she thought it was just stories to get them to behave. But then they went further than that. Redstar went into detail of what the monsters are like. What leaders did in the past to apprentices, throwing them to the woods. Oh, and she should feel so grateful that she lived now, and not back then. And they were serious about it.

She remembered when she was small, and naive, and genuinely believed this. Why wouldn't she? She trusted the adults around her to be honest. But she noticed it always came with…with stupid caveats. Well, if the woods are so dangerous, why are adults allowed out? If they're so dangerous, why does Redstar go out every night? Why did Windfur and Shiverstep leave at dusk every half-moon to go StarClan-knows-where? If the woods ate cats, why did they still live here? That last one always upset the adults, but she was right and it wasn't a mousebrained question! If there WERE actual dangers out here, why stay here? Why not leave? The fact that they meandered about 'culture' and 'preserving the memory of the lost Clans' pissed her off, and she hated it.

Owlpaw kicked up the leaf litter as she smelled the air around her. She smelled mud, and heard crickets.

It was…innocent. Natural.

Sadness mixed with the anger in her chest. She scowled at a nearby birch tree that had almost lost all of its leaves to the weather. She let out a snort.

"You're not a tree-thing that's going to eat me, are you?" Owlpaw approached it, nicking at the tree's paper-like bark with her claws. Her grey eyes flickered. "Do you have friends that are gonna eat me? Or maybe a big black plant that's going to melt my flesh?"

Silence.

"Nah. Of course not. You're just a birch tree." Owlpaw peeled a strip of the birch's bark, hearing the paper-like tear and watching as the thin bark curled on itself.

It was weak skin.

Owlpaw tossed aside the bark and padded into the undergrowth, towards the border that Morningspot showed her. Her mentor was annoying, but at least she made sure Owlpaw knew her way around.

Bulrush fluff…all bulrush fluff.

The thing that killed all doubt, was that Cottonpaw and Deerpaw went on a night patrol, and they came back home just fine. Oh sure, they said they were chased by some Fake Twoleg. But she bet that Twolegs weren't actually real either. She'd never seen one, and was never shown any proof of them existing, so why should she believe anything they say at this point? Cottonpaw and Deerpaw were taken aside by adults first anyway, so for all she knows, they were brought in on the truth and told them to lie.

That had to be the only rational explanation. Because if she lived in a world that evil…

Well, she didn't see a point in living in it.

"Well? Are you going to try and kill me? Yeah right, you aren't even real," she called out. Nothing replied, except for the bugs. She rolled her eyes and flicked her tail, trudging fearlessly through the undergrowth.

Owlpaw cringed as she picked up the weird, tangy smell that came from their border. Morningspot explained that Twoleg metal beasts came down it - what fun, another monster to the list - but that they were rare and didn't leave the path.

For a moment, she stared up and down the long, grey path that stretched out into the hilly trails. Her eyes narrowed. It was a very weird thing, in comparison to everything else. Probably the only real evidence of "monsters" she was ever shown. But of course, no actual showing of one.

Owlpaw hated the smell, so she went back into the undergrowth.

She wandered for a few minutes, letting the anger seep through her bones.

A Woodcrawler would've definitely killed her by now if they were real. She was practically free food.

"Hellooooo? Any Woodcrawlers? Fake Cats? I'm tooootally vulnerable, and all alone! Come get me, stupid foxdungs," she snarled.

Of course, nothing. As expected.

Why did they lie to her? What was the point? She was never going to be a kit forever. Why control them all like this? Why scare her and Daffodilkit like this? Surely, not all cats would agree to lying like that…right?

Owlpaw remembered when Morningspot took her out of camp for the first time. Brought her to a place close to the border. A place where the forest ended, and from an overlook, it turned into a flat, open field that stretched down into more woodland.

"We don't hunt in the plains. If you get here, turn back."

"Why?"

"Um…well, it's the end of the territory, so of course you'd turn back," Morningspot mumbled.

"No, mousebrain, why don't we hunt in the plains?" Owlpaw retorted.

Morningspot flinched. The older cat hesitated for a moment, before she mumbled, "There's…a lot of Woodcrawler dens down there. More than there are in the forest. I think it has to do with the Twoleg Greenleaf place next to it," Morningspot gestured to the blocky, triangular nests across the grey road.

"How do you know?"

Morningspot looked at her quizzically. Owlpaw's eyes narrowed, and she repeated her question.

"How do you know?"

Morningspot blinked, then stared at her feet. "...Cats have died hunting in there."

"You've seen, or you've heard?"

Owlpaw wanted to claw her mentor's face off when Morningspot just stared at the apprentice and repeated again that cats died in there, and that Owlpaw would be hurt - or worse - if she tried. Owlpaw only resisted because Morningspot gave her the most pathetic-looking stare she'd ever seen in a cat, as she practically begged her not to run into the field. Owlpaw could cross the road, go to the lake, climb a tree, do literally anything else, but she begged her to not step into the field.

Owlpaw failed to suppress a snarl as she remembered the path they took. To foxdung with this. The field didn't have dens. She'd prove it. Her tail thrashed as she pushed aside ferns and scrambled over fallen logs and branches, muttering angrily to herself.

"The adults can't lie to me anymore, you know!" she yowled. Owlpaw hissed as she ducked underneath a fallen branch and started to approach the small hill that would overlook the field. "I know the....the...."

Owlpaw stopped.

She trailed off as her eyes cast through the treeline, revealing strips of the sky on the horizon.

In between the gaps, far where the field should be; bright, shining lights hovered listlessly. She thought they were stars, at first. But then they swayed, ever so slightly, like the flickering of fire. And they were big.

…Did…they ever mention lights before…?

A flicker of hesitation shot through her chest. Maybe? She…only really remembered the ones that gave her nightmares. Woodcrawlers, Nature's Mockery, Fake Cats, Living Tendrils…she stopped paying attention to lessons after a certain point, believing it was all just lies to scare them.

Daffodilpaw would know. Daffodilpaw paid attention to everything. Sometimes she resented her for it. But for a brief second, she wished that she was here with her.

But of course Daffodilpaw didn't want to come. She was too scared. Believed whatever everyone said.

The lights didn't move. They continued to gleam in the dark of the night.

Why does she feel like they're...looking at her?

Owlpaw took a single step back.

A trickle of fear.

"They're just lights." She said this, trying to convince herself. If…monsters did exist, this probably wasn't one of them. These were just stupid lights. They weren't even doing…anything…

The lights shined…

What was…

Owlpaw fled.

----

A patrol is immediately made to search for Owlpaw.

(Riversnow, warrior, female, 68 moons. Adventurous.) (Hopechase, warrior, female, 101 moons. Playful.) (Riftgorse, warrior, male, 17 moons. Charismatic.) (Tree, warrior, non-binary, 50 moons. Adventurous.)

---

Owlpaw had been gone for thirty minutes, as per Daffodilpaw. That wasn't very long. There was still a chance.

ForestClan made a desperate patrol to search for Owlpaw. Redstar knew they were on a time limit. The night was dangerous. Should she risk her clanmate's lives to try and save just one cat? Her clanmates decided for her. Riversnow insisted she had to go, and no one would deny her. In a rush, Hopechase, Tree, Riversnow and Riftgorse started tracking Owlpaw's scent.

Luckily, Owlpaw's presence was not difficult to trace - her scent practically radiated on the trail.

"She must've been thrashing her tail a lot," Riftgorse commented. The patrol was tense - safe for Riversnow, who plowed ahead, powered by adrenaline.

"Owlpaw? Owlpaw!" she yowled.

"Careful," Tree suppressed a growl. Riversnow whipped around, bristling.

"Careful of what?" she hissed.

"It won't help Owlpaw if we're detected by giant spiders on the way," Tree stated flatly.

This did not help. Riftgorse winced as Riversnow called again, "OWLPAW! GET BACK HERE NOW! PLEASE!"

Hopechase said nothing, focused on the task. There was a solemnity that loomed over the dark cat's back. She padded quickly along the scent trail, finding that it stopped near a birch tree. She tasted the air and placed her paw on the tree, finding that a strip of its bark was cut.

"She passed through here," Hopechase said as she went through the parted grasses.

"Watch your surroundings," Tree commented. Hopechase felt Tree was saying this more for themselves than for her.

Before any of them could register what was happening, the undergrowth thrashed in the distance. Something was charging through the bushes. Hopechase bristled and -

Owlpaw barreled into Riftgorse, faceplanting to the ground with a terrified screech. Riftgorse screamed as he scrambled back to his feet, Tree hissed and Riversnow exploded.

"OWLPAW! Oh, stars above - "

Owlpaw's grey eyes were filled with otherworldly terror, tears streaming down her face as she could barely blubber anything out of her mouth. 

"T-T-The lights - they're - they're after me, the light - "

Riversnow bristled to the size of a porcupine, her voice filled with pain and relief as she towered over her daughter and snarled. "How dare you! How dare you do this to me, to your sister, you could've died!"

"M-Mom -"

"This is the single stupidest thing you've ever done in your entire life, and you've done a lot of stupid, horrible things!"

Owlpaw trembled, her gaze darting everywhere until she stared up at her mother, tail tucked and shrinking. "T-The lights - "

"Enough!" Riversnow hissed, bending down and scruffing Owlpaw like a kit again, practically dragging her on the floor. Owlpaw's eyes were wide, and this time she pleaded and yowled like a kit.

"Mom, mom, NO! The lights! They're following me!"

"Lights?" Riftgorse chimes in, bristling.

Tree's mind worked quickly, staring out beyond the territory. Their ears swiveled. "Luring Lights. She must've seen the field near the Twolegplace."

"NO! It was a monster, a m-monster with a light on - " Owlpaw barely wrenched herself from Riversnow's grasp before Riversnow snarled in frustration.

"Luring Lights do NOT MOVE, Owlpaw!" Riversnow hissed.

Hopechase paused.

A thought came to her. She froze. All relief, all hope, all feeling washed away from her body. She refused to look at the rest of her clanmates, focused on the treeline.

"Owlpaw. Are you sure you saw a light moving towards you?"

The entire patrol stopped and stared. Hopechase's voice had shifted to a tone they've never heard coming from her. Owlpaw didn't notice, blurting out in desperation.

"YES! T-The light was its face!"

Hopechase's blue eyes widened. The air around them turned cold. Quietly, with the fear and dread of a thousand generations of cats, she whispered, "Gardener."

"...What?" Riftgorse whispered.

Suddenly, from the woods, there was a thud. A crashing of branches. The crickets stopped singing.

Then, a hollow groan broke through the trees, echoing against the pines.

AND FROM THE DARKNESS, THERE WAS LIGHT.

"Gardener. Run. RUN!"

Hopechase screeched, bolting up the trail. The patrol sprinted after her, adrenaline and horror spiking through them. Hopechase howled a warning call far before camp could ever hear them. "GARDENER! GARDENER!"

Light scattered between the shadows of evergreens, illuminating patches of undergrowth like an alien star. The spotlight shifted rapidly, threatening to cast itself on the cats sprinting below. A frayed, electric noise pulsed from its head. Leaves were crushed beneath branch-like feet as it trampled down the path like a Twoleg monster.

"GARDENER! HIDE, HIDE, HIDE! NOW!" Hopechase's voice screeched like claws on metal. "GARDENER!"

Owlpaw hyperventilated as she charged forward. Riftgorse, Tree and Riversnow were bristling from head to toe. The camp walls came in the distance.

"GARDENER! GARDENER! NO TIME, NO TIME!"

Hopechase found a reserve of energy and dashed far forward ahead of everyone. The Clan must've heard the senior warrior's screaming, as everyone had already herded themselves into Redstar's den; Perchwatcher, Brakenfreckle and Olive all carried one of the three kits, and Shiverstep's shape slunk by Windfur's side. Redstar and Cloudthunder were straggling behind, preparing to close the gate once the patrol came in.

"FORGET THE GATE! GO!" Hopechase screamed as she barreled through.

Hopechase had suddenly become ForestClan's leader; Redstar and Cloudthunder scrambled down and headed to the den. Redstar had never heard Hopechase this frightened. "Hopechase, what - "

Hopechase pulled something that hid beside the High Rock - a plank of bound twigs that made a large, square door.

"Go, go!" she yowled as she shoved Redstar.

Owlpaw, Riversnow, Tree and Riftgorse dived through the gate and up to the den.

The second Redstar and Cloudthunder entered, Hopechase sealed the entrance with the plank. It barely covered it in its entirety. The plank's age showed; scattered with cracks and insect-forged holes.

"Hopechase?" Redstar started.

Owlpaw whined. Daffodilpaw wailed with relief at her sister's presence.

"What's going on?" Blackkit squealed from behind Brackenfreckle, panting with fear.

"Quiet." Hopechase hissed, abruptly silencing every cat huddled within. The whole Clan's eyes landed on the senior warrior, and watched as her claws sank into the floor, her eyes filled with dread. Redstar stared at her friend intensely.

"Hope…"

"Be quiet. Do not move." Her voice trembled. "No matter what happens, do not leave this den."

Owlpaw and Daffodilpaw buried themselves into each other's pelts with eyes squeezed shut. Owlpaw pressed her paws down on her muzzle, trying to silence her rapid breathing. Riversnow stood over her children protectively, glaring at the shoddy plank door. Barleywave padded in front, placing himself between the door and his family. His hazel eyes were glazed with distant terror.

Another thundering step.

Nectarkit squeaked. Shadekit swatted at her, and she flattened and covered her mouth.

A loud, reverberating groan.

Iciclepool pressed against Shiverstep, copper eyes glaring. Shiverstep's gaze fell on Tree, as though they held answers.

Redstar's pelt bristled as she heard part of the camp wall collapsing. The groan transformed into a high-pitched, electric whine. Yellow light leaked through the plank's cracks in scattered rays.

ForestClan recoiled further into the den. The kits made suppressed cries. No one tried to silence them.

The Gardener's light did not move. Redstar stared at it. Waiting. Bracing.

A low hum came from it. It tore its gaze from the leader's den, scanning its surroundings. A fragile hope rippled through the cats huddling in the dark. If it didn't see them, if it didn't know they were here…

Redstar heard stomping like a moose' hooves around the campsite. The shadows of spider-like legs were cast on the door as it caught the Gardener's light.

Redstar didn't know how long she and her Clan hid. Fear-scents exploded whenever the light glanced over their bunker's door. Every few minutes, it seemed like the Gardener stepped on another part of their camp. Destroyed another den.

Redstar felt her claws sink into the ground. She fought the rage building in her bones, soaking through her skin. This thing was defiling their home.

She heard stories. She had never seen a Gardener in her life. She was afraid and vengeful. She wanted to do something.

Maybe…maybe she could distract it. She could dash out, make it chase her out of camp. The idea lit a fire in her heart. Yes. Yes, that was a good plan. She could dash quickly, cause noise, leap over the camp walls, and pull its attention away…

She turned her head to Iciclepool and Hopechase.

Iciclepool saw the look in her eyes. She shook her head quickly and mouthed 'no', pleading. Redstar felt the corners of her mouth curl to a silent snarl.

The two bristled as Hopechase planted unsheathed claws on Redstar's shoulder. She vehemently, slowly, shook her head, her eyes reflecting a will that rivalled StarClan's endless sky. Redstar tried to pull away. Hopechase only dug them deeper, and for a split second, the ForestClan leader saw a quiet, unforgiving anger in the molly's eyes.

Redstar briefly remembered the cat that agreed to assassinate Lakestar. And reluctantly, she sheathed her claws and flattened her fur.

Time marched at a turtle's pace. Perhaps purposefully. The Gardener was pacing around them. Finally, the sound of massive steps marched past the leader's den - above and over the camp walls behind them. Darkness reclaimed the night.

And yet, Hopechase whispered, "It's not gone. Quiet."

They obeyed.

The tension was thick. Cats that usually argued, huddled closer. No one took their eyes off the plank.

Finally, after a time that felt like eons, Shiverstep trembled.

She felt dazed. Weak. Her greencough made it difficult for her to focus. She could feel it again. A force, piercing the back of her head forcefully, without want, without care. She tried to resist it - but it was too fast, and overwhelmed her. Her skin crawled like insects and she felt her eyes locked on the flimsy door. Her mouth opened. She whispered gently, coldly, like a taken life.

A long pause. A few cats turned to stare at Shiverstep.

Knock, knock, knock.

Heads whipped to the entrance, mouths agape in silent screams.

Knock….knock.

It moved higher above, on the hollow stump itself. The tapping had no rhythm. It was like a kit batting at a dead mouse to see if it would move again.

Knock, knocknocknocknocknock.

Sound wrapped itself at all sides. ForestClan pulled themselves off from the walls, the kits suppressed their mews, merging in the center. Redstar stared at the ceiling above as dirt loosened -

Knock. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK -

"Adam Levitch. Answered the door. Barry Johnson. Answered the door. Truman Michaels. Answered the door," Shiverstep rattled irrationally.

"Do not leave the den. Do not leave the den," Hopechase hissed under gritted teeth, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

"Bethany Newman. Alec Davidson. Dorothy Bates. Vessels. It asked to enter."

A loud shift from above -

"Do not answer the knocking at the door."

CRACK!

An otherworldly cry emitted from over the den. Legs thrashed on the camp ground and the spotlight waved around frantically. The monstrous thing screeched before the sound of its steps grew further and further away, until the flicker of light dimmed and vanished altogether.

The darkness of the night blanketed upon them once more.

The stunned silence eventually broke with the song of a whip-poor-will, and the return of gentle crickets. Hopechase seemed surprised, which did not comfort Redstar.

"Hopechase?"

"...I...I think it's gone."

A collective breath was released. The kits began wailing. Cats collapsed on their bellies, panting. Shiverstep was...

Oh StarClan, was she unconscious?

"Windfur?" Iciclepool called nervously, her paws already feeling around her daughter's ears. Windfur bristled, wordlessly checking her pulse.

"Alive," he meowed.

Redstar suppressed a growl. She had to make sure. She had to...Redstar swallowed, then slowly placed a trembling paw on the makeshift door.

Hold it together. Breathe.

Redstar inhaled through her nose. Then pushed it a crack and stared outside. She glanced around camp and felt her heart sinking deeply into her chest. From the darkness, she could make out the gaps in the camp walls, and the indents in the warriors' den. She swallowed, suddenly understanding why Hopechase screamed at them not to bother with the gate.

She had heard of Gardeners before. But Redstar lived on this earth for almost seven years now, and had never seen one. She believed her elders when they told stories about them. They lived surrounded by Fake Beings and Infected Predators, and balls of light hovering over open Woodcrawler dens. Reports of a towering Woodcrawler with a light for a face was not farfetched in the slightest. But it had been so long since one was last seen that she...

Redstar swallowed as she realized that the procedure to deal with them had fallen away in the chaos. She knew the lockdown procedure. The Clan knew it. But in the panic of it all, it escaped her grasp. Knowledge that was fleeting beyond theory and rote memorization. That weakness - fear that overwhelmed her reason...

Redstar pushed open the door.

Slowly, cats tiptoed to stare out at the camp. Moans of pain and meows of worry rippled as they surveyed the damage around them - west wall collapsed, warrior's den caved in, gate pulleys ripped apart on one side. There were multiple holes scattered across camp, undoubtedly the Gardener's pointed appendages having left them behind. It wasn't completely clear what the full extent of the damage was, but a fire and some torches would need to be lit to see what was wrong.

Hopechase stared at the rest of the camp walls, collecting her thoughts. "...It's in better shape than I expected."

"Hey, Redstar?"

Redstar turned to the voice that called her, and was surprised to see Tree sitting close to where the previous cooking fire was stationed. Redstar winced as she saw their drying rack had been destroyed, but something told her that Tree wasn't addressing her about it. She cautiously approached the cat.

"I think I found what chased it off," Tree meowed.

Redstar's tail twitched, remembering the noise that seemed to frighten the Gardener. "...What is it?"

Tree stepped aside, gesturing with their tail the remains of their cooking fire.

...The fire. They were so alarmed they forgot to extinguish the cinders.

Something akin to a sharp stone was embedded into the middle of it. Redstar brought her muzzle as close as she dared. Her nose wrinkled. She recoiled. Ears twitching, she asked, "What is that?"

The remains of stringy, red roots wilted around the hot cinders. They smelled like acid and rotten flesh. Chunks of flimsy, bark-like skin were charring around it. Tree met Redstar's gaze solemnly.

"I don't know for sure. But if that...thing, whatever it was, was related to Woodcrawlers..." Tree pointed a claw at the faint tooth-like shape of the indented object. "...Then this might be its foot. It stopped paying attention to where it was stepping when it..." Tree swallowed, opting not to finish. They put their paw down, eyes narrowed. "...Luck. Sheer, complete luck that this was still here. And that there was enough heat in those cinders to ignite its tendons."

For the first time in a long, long time, Redstar felt numb.

How fragile they really, truly were.

As the sounds of crying kits and distressed clanmates echoed all around her in the middle of the night, as she replayed the memory of the Gardener tapping at her den as though it could chase them out, she realized that she couldn't keep pretending to the kits that Deep Root entities were just dangerous animals. Her ears folded back. She closed her eyes.

Tonight, she needed to make sure her clanmates slept. Or at least tried to. Any kind of discipline or conversation would be lost on the stress of the evening. Shiverstep especially needed to be looked over - her behavior tonight was...abnormal. But that was a conversation for when she was conscious.

Tomorrow, ForestClan would talk. And rebuild.

---

1 gif was made using a clip from Remy Abode’s “Gemini Home Entertainment”, episode titled “CAMP INFORMATIONAL VIDEO”. SOURCE: (X)

Cottonpaw and Perchwatcher do their best to include Owlpaw. Owlpaw wants to just hide, but Morningspot said something dumb about effort, or trying, or whatever...

(Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons. Bold.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)

Cats in camp are taken aback when they see Owlpaw yelling at Perchwatcher before storming off. Perchwatcher seems stunned and Cottonpaw looks wary.

(Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons. Bold.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)

Morningspot scrambles to apologize to Perchwatcher for Owlpaw's beahvior. Perchwatcher is too embarassed to care.

(Morningspot, warrior, female, 22 moons. Nervous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)

Owlpaw is shocked when Morningspot isn't mad with her. Morningspot does, however, ask that she walk away entirely and tell her instead next time it happens. She also asks that she say sorry to Perchwatcher for yelling, when she's feeling less angry.

(Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Morningspot, warrior, female, 22 moons. Nervous.)

Riftgorse, Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher go on a hunting patrol together. The two toms comfort Perchwatcher for what happened in camp...but they do put something tactfully that Perchwatcher needed to hear.

(Riftgorse, warrior, male, 18 moons. Charismatic.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.) (Branchsnarl, warrior, trans male, 15 moons. Ambitious.)

Shadekit tried to come up with a plan to sneak out of camp with Blackkit. It's interrupted by Hopechase. Blackkit is secretly relieved.

(Hopechase, warrior, female, 102 moons. Playful.) (Blackkit, kitten, female, 5 moons. Shy.) (Shadekit, kitten, male, 5 moons. Unruly.)

By the end of the moon, Iciclepool goes into labour. The woods are successfully warded off, but...

(Iciclepool, deputy, female, 76 moons. Ambitious.) (Shiverstep, cleric, female, 20 moons. Loving.) (Windfur, cleric, male, 34 moons. Lonesome.)

----

It worked. They succeeded. They rebuilt their wall, prepared their torches, and circled the den. The tendrils ducked and weaved like stubborn scavengers desperate to pull meat from a mountain lion's catch, but the flames challenged their resolve. Still, they were desperate. Hungering.

Deerpaw and Riftgorse were bruised by the Living Tendrils swiping at their feet and wrapping around their legs. Morningspot and Cloudthunder had the torches knocked from their grasps, and both mollies resorted to biting into them and pulling away with all their strength. Airpaw drove a torch through the one his mother had grasped. Daffodilpaw joined her sister as she witnessed her stabbing the torches at the holes the tendrils emerged from, both cats trembling with adrenaline.

Two tendrils weaved through into the den. Before any cat could act, a wrathful caterwaul emerged from the nursery. There was thrashing and contorting, until one of the tendrils retreated like a terrified dog. The other let out an alien screech as it was pulled taut. It writhed and writhed, until the black, vengeful shadow that was Hopechase was practically dragged to the entrance. She dove her claws into it one last time, her single white paw painting itself black with their blood. Only when it hissed and pulled back with more ferocity did she finally let go.

It took a few more minutes for all the stragglers to finally determine their prey would not die easily, cutting their losses and retreating into the woods. Cats yowled with triumph.

By all accounts, they won. They succeeded.

So why, as they gathered around a small funeral pyre, did this still feel like a failure?

*******

Iciclepool had a bad feeling. Perhaps it was that gut feeling, that deeply-seeded fear that caused her to hesitate in stopping her duties and telling the clan about her pregnancy. It was so unlike her. When she was younger, she failed to stifle her joy at her past pregnancies. Cats gently warned her to lower her expectations - to no avail. Every single one of her kits were so loved and wanted. When Cliffstep was still by her side - oh, stars, she wished he was still here - she purred and spoke gently to them as she felt her kits shifting and kicking on occasion. She could count the sets of feet after a time, and know how many she would have. And Cliffstep was so loving, so attentive - curling around her and his future family with warmth and care.

None of them ever survived past six moons.

Shiverstep was all of her hope, all of her love she could never give to her children. She cherished every second the little kit curled by her side at night and padded after her in camp. She cried with relief as it hit her that finally, finally, nothing would take away her baby. Redstar wouldn't send her on a cruel trial. No tendrils would come. She could watch her child grow, and become such a beautiful molly. And oh, she did. Shiverstep was such a kind, beautiful, wonderful soul. Was it so wrong for her to have hope? To see another kit of hers grow up again?

She should've listened to Hopechase. Oh, stars, why didn't she listen? Hopechase voiced her concerns when Iciclepool told her what she felt. The look in her eyes made her feel so ashamed. She didn't want to tell the medicine cats. She didn't want them to confirm her worst fears. Hadn't she suffered enough? Was she wrong to hope and pray they would all survive this time?

Three. In the time she carried her babies, she felt at least three kick. But in total, in nights where she would press her paw around her stomach, thinking of names, she felt the round bundles curled against her. Four. One never stirred.

Hopechase and Shiverstep had been her only solace in the past few days.

"Everything will be alright, love. StarClan is watching over you. Cliffstep. Rapidpaw. Valleypaw. Your sister, and all of our lost friends and family. They want us to succeed. I know they must." Hopechase had looked at her with those bright blue eyes, with an intensity that mirrored a cloudless sky. "And I will defend our family with everything I have."

Separately, Shiverstep spoke with determined intensity. Bags formed under her eyes, but a glint of hope shone within them. "I promise, mom. I promise that nothing will happen to you. To them. I have help. From…from StarClan. Clanmates." It sounded like Shiverstep stopped her list short, a name on her tongue that she refused to speak. "We're going to be okay. If something bad happens, I'll find a way."

Only Windfur seemed to pierce through her soul, returning the dread Iciclepool felt.

"...I…I don't want to fail you," Windfur meowed, his voice tight. The implication weighed heavily on their shoulders.

"...It won't be your fault. Please…please don't blame yourself if it happens." Iciclepool's voice cracked. She felt like a wounded doe, desperate to hide her injury. She inhaled, froze her pain beneath a sheet of ice in her body, and straightened. "I've lost kits before. This is nothing new to me. I will survive."

"...I don't want you to have to."

"But I will."

And she did.

As she heard the yowling, burning and thrashing outside, as she felt her mate looming over the nursery entrance, as she met her contractions with familiarity and listened to Windfur and Shiverstep's guidance, she prepared. She heard Windfur call for Brackenfreckle to be on standby. The distant sounds of roots tearing through the earth and cats hissing echoed.

The first cried out. A grey molly.

The second did not. A brown molly. The noise outside accompanied her dread. Shiverstep was removing the liquid, drying the fur, her blue eyes intense as she rubbed it between her paws.

In the tension, she was forced to deliver the third. Windfur quickly removed debris near its face, and it screeched in protest. Iciclepool released a laugh of dismay. A black tom.

Shiverstep still worked. She gritted her teeth as her rubbing intensified.

"Shiver," Windfur began sharply.

"I'm fine," Shiverstep retorted, failing to hide her fear. She pried open its mouth to search for debris. "Come on. Come on. Please."

Iciclepool's heart was rotting. Burning. Falling off its tendons.

She barely registered her beloved mate screeching and throwing herself at tendrils that dared to approach.

Iciclepool bit down as a final wave of pain came to her. She whimpered. Windfur refocused his attention and quickly helped deliver the last. It let out a continuous set of mews, refusing to quiet until it felt its mother. A brown tom.

Windfur pressed around rapidly. "That's…that's it."

Iciclepool nodded. She curled around her newborn kits. She stared as she watched Shiverstep - her eldest kit - still trying to stifle life back into the newborn. The world around her spun and blurred. Cats yowled in triumph. Iciclepool saw her mate pad up to her with a shine in her eyes, only for them to dim as she saw Shiverstep trying to resuscitate a newborn. Windfur didn't step in to stop her. He just stared with an unreadable expression.

Time passed cruelly. Shiverstep's ears folded further back. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her breath quickened. She started mouthing something inaudibly.

Brackenfreckle entered boldly, looking at Iciclepool and her three healthy kits. Her expression fell as she looked at Shiverstep.

"...Is it…?" she started. She wisely decided not to finish her thought.

Shiverstep choked back a sob. She breathed air through its nose. She began small, rhythmic compressions on its ribs. Her mouthing became desperate whispers.

"Please. I call to you. I call to you. Please. Please."

"Shiverstep," Iciclepool whimpered, unable to bear her daughter's despair.

"Please," she repeated. She blew air into the kit's nose again, turning it over and rubbing its back rigorously. Her lips curled back and her teeth gritted. "Help. Help. I need…" She choked back a sob as her fleeting hope turned to despair. "What do I do?" she mouthed. She broke and pressed her head against the newborn kitten.

Iciclepool couldn't bear it. She stumbled to her weakened feet, despite Brackenfreckle's brief protest and her kits' whining. Shiverstep looked away as her mother approached her, and reluctantly fell apart as Iciclepool sadly dug her teeth into the cleric's scruff, pulling her towards the nest like one of her newborns. The young cleric sobbed, and Windfur reluctantly took the newborn away from Shiverstep. The marbled molly forced herself to her feet, following Iciclepool back to her nest - lest she were dragged.

Windfur's dark blue eyes were unreadable as he stared at the newborn. He started doing light compressions with his paw.

Iciclepool allowed her remaining kits to suckle, and she forced herself to purr with comfort as Shiverstep buried her head into her shoulder.

Her heart still withered.

Eventually, cats peered in, asking questions. Brackenfreckle uneasily tried to shoo them away. Redstar herself was getting agitated at being denied entry.

"Redstar, just…give us a moment. Please," Hopechase called back. The emptiness in her tone must've silenced the leader.

Iciclepool watched Windfur continue trying to revive her stillborn kit. His expression was like stone, but she knew that desperation roiled within him. She glanced at her mate. Hopechase held her breath. Refused to look at her. Shiverstep trembled, repeating strained and near-silent, "I call, I call, please, please answer," muffled against her mother's shoulder.

Iciclepool's copper eyes stilled. She bit back a wail as the memory of her past flashed before her. Every kit stolen by a tendril. Every apprentice trial Lakestar commanded on her children. Every baby she never got to see grow.

StarClan...Please...please let this be the very last one. No more. My heart can't do it again. I just can't.

Softly, she whispered, "Hopechase...let her go, love."

Hopechase objected meekly. "No."

"Hope."

"I can't." Hopechase stared at the stillborn kit in desperation.

"Honey. It's okay." She strained to place her paw on her mate's. It felt wet like mud. "Let her go."

After a time that felt like a thousand seasons, Hopechase's ears flattened, she closed her eyes, and dipped her head. Her voice trembled.

"...Sparrowkit?" The request was earnest and pleading, and Iciclepool failed to swallow the knot in her throat.

"Yes."

Hopechase lifted her head back up. "...It's okay, Windfur. Let her go."

Windfur ignored her, his pupils dilating.

Hopechase slowly rose to her feet, padding up to him with a lowered tail. "Windfur."

Nothing.

"Stop." The warrior placed her paw on his shoulder. Only then did the cleric slow his pace, before finally stopping. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, before gently putting her down.

Hopechase picked up Sparrowkit by the scruff, bringing her over to Iciclepool.

"...I can tell the Clan what happened, if it helps." Brackenfreckle offered. "...I'm sorry for your loss."

Hopechase breathed deeply. "Yes. Thank you."

As Brackenfreckle padded out, and Hopechase curled herself behind her mate, Iciclepool silently groomed her children - Shiverstep included, who still lay defeatedly by her side.

The mother felt conflicted as she stared down at her five children - one gone, one grown, three born. Her sorrow was like purifying rain over a burning forest; emollient. She gave a few, tender licks on Sparrowkit's head, her voice still trembling.

"Look after your sister for me, won't you, Rapidpaw, Valleypaw?" She inhaled sharply. "I love you. So much."

---

After a somber funeral, Hopechase and Iciclepool sleep in the same nest with their new babies, cherishing them and making silent vows to protect them forever. They give them names - Mulberrykit, Ghostkit and Hazelkit.

(Hopechase, warrior, female, 102 moons. Playful.) (Iciclepool, deputy, female, 76 moons. Ambitious.) (Mulberrykit, kitten, female, 0 moons. Quiet.) (Ghostkit, kitten, male, 0 moons. Shy.) (Hazelkit, kitten, male, 0 moons. Charming.) (Sparrowkit, female. StarClan cat.)

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