#ripplekit

(Author’s note: the following scenes involve allusions to traumatic childbirth. Please read with caution. All will be revealed in time.)

Palekit and Ripplekit have recovered from heat exhaustion.

[Image ID: Palekit and Ripplekit face each other. Under Palekit, it says - CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION, + NEW SKILL: NEVER SITS STILL. Under Ripplekit, it says - CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION.]

(Palekit: 5, female, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder, never sits still)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

Wildclaw’s sprain has healed.

[Image ID: Wildclaw follows Shadowdrop, calling “Shadow, where are we going?” Underneath her, it says - CONDITION: DISLOCATED PAW. Waspkit watches from the back. Underneath him, it says + NEW SKILL: EYE FOR DETAILS.]

---

The past Harvest Moons were exciting times for RippleClan. As they got more and more members, their contribution to the holiday grew bigger and better. This year they got to talk about darkhounds, and Wildclaw had every intention on teaching little apprentices how to protect their friends and family from the dangerous beasts. After all, her paw was all better, and Rattlepelt had a great show planned (even though talking to her still hurt a bit, no matter how much Wildclaw ignored it). The problem was, she didn’t account for one thing; guard duty.

“Mom, you know I like guarding camp,” Wildclaw stammered as Downstar checked the baskets and pots the Clan would bring to Harvest Moon, “but on Harvest Moon?”

“We can’t have everyone at the celebration,” Downstar sighed, not looking at her daughter. “Weedfoot needs to be there as deputy, which means we need more paws in camp watching over our kits and injured. Carnationspeckle is still exhausted from birthing Troutkit, she needs all the support she can have while we’re out.”

“Troutkit?” Wildclaw said. “They finally named the little sprout?”

“They picked a name this morning,” Downstar explained. “Carnationspeckle needs good food to build her strength, and you’re a good cook when you’re not itching to patrol.”

“It’ll be lonely with just us here,” Wildclaw huffed.

“Shadowdrop volunteered to stay behind,” Downstar said, finally facing Wildclaw, “and Parsley will be watching Weedfoot’s litter. It won’t be too bad.” Downstar touched her nose to Wildclaw’s forehead. 

Only the tip of the sun glimmered over the ocean’s horizon. All around the mother and daughter duo, the rest of RippleClan prepared to head out for Harvest Moon. Oilstripe helped Fennelspot put on an elaborate tail wrap Rattlepelt made for when Fennelspot needed to flaunt his authority as a cleric. Weedfoot’s kits pestered their parents about what Harvest Moon was like, even though they were old enough to know better. Scrubmask and Clammask shared tongues with Halibutdusk while Rabbitjoy placed a necklace around Rattlepelt’s neck. 

“Everyone carry a load!” Downstar called, slipping a basket around her neck. “We have a lot to bring today.” Downstar patted Wildclaw with her tail and joined Rustshade and Mousesong. Soon the whole Clan was on the move, save for Wildclaw, the silent guardian in the heart of camp.

“I’d be better off keeping them safe at the holiday,” she muttered, rubbing a paw into the sand. Parsley strolled past her and slid between Weedfoot’s kits, all of whom stared out at camp at their slowly vanishing Clanmates.

“You five are old enough to entertain yourselves today,” Parsley said with a twitch of her stub. “I’m sure we can have our own Harvest Moon here if you want.”

“I could tell some stories,” Ripplekit suggested.

“Or we could tell our own!” Lavenderkit suggested, wiggling his flank high. “Let’s be artisans and put on our own show!”

“That sounds fun!” Palekit chirped.

“You four go ahead,” Waspkit huffed, lifting his leg. “I’m going to groom myself. I don’t think putting on a show like this is what a real codekeeper would do.”

“We won’t get to play around like this when we’re apprentices,” Puddlekit whined, nudging his golden brother. “Mom said even Grandfather enjoyed being a kit when he was one! And Dad says you’re just like him.”

“You’re the one they named after him, shouldn’t you be like him?” Waspkit huffed. “Carnationspeckle says Puddlespeckle was a mean old tom. I don’t want to be like him.”

“Then don’t act like a codekeeper and act like a kit!” Palekit huffed. She nibbled Waspkit’s ear, and the bossy kit’s stoic expression broke. He laughed and shoved his sister. He joined the rest of his littermates by the Shiprock, chatting about their show.

“That takes care of that,” Parsley yawned, stretching. “I’m going to share tongues with Carnationspeckle for a while. You and your brother enjoy a quiet camp.” Parsley headed for the nursery. 

As she left, however, Wildclaw realized she didn’t see Shadowdrop anywhere. Curious, Wildclaw peeked into the dirtplace. No Shadowdrop. She checked the warrior’s den. No Shadowdrop. She even checked the medicine den, but unsurprisingly, Shadowdrop wasn’t inside. Where did her brother go? Did he slip off to Harvest Moon? Lately, it felt like Wildclaw could never find the black codekeeper. Did he expect her to guard camp alone?

In a moment of shockingly coincidental timing, Shadowdrop entered camp. He lingered by the entrance, eyeing the empty camp. When he saw Wildclaw, he flicked his tail for her to join him. He was stiff and inched toward the exit with every moment Wildclaw lingered. Wildclaw glanced around her, like she was still a wild apprentice trying to sneak out of camp. The kits were absorbed in their plans, save for Waspkit, who eyed Shadowdrop as the others chattered on. Wildclaw jogged toward Shadowdrop. She barely got close before he started to lead her out of camp. 

“Shadow, where are we going?” Wildclaw whispered, unsure why she chose to whisper. Shadowdrop’s tensed shoulders and stiff movements shut Wildclaw up. Something was happening, something Shadowdrop wanted to wait to discuss. But what?

(Wildclaw: 31, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Downstar: 98, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Parsley: 133, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Lavenderkit: 5, male, kit, noisy, likes to sing)

(Palekit: 5, female, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder, never sit still)

(Waspkit: 5, male, kit, bossy, interested in clan history, eye for detail)

(Puddlekit: 5, male, kit, polite, morbid curiosity, oddly observant)

(Shadowdrop: 31, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

When the Clan returns from Harvest Moon, there are three new kits in camp. Shadowdrop and Wildclaw claim a wild queen gave them up. Shadowdrop has adopted them.

[Image ID: Three black newborn kits sit in moss nests. The kit in the upper left has text under them saying NEW PLAYER: TEMPESTKIT, 0, FEMALE, TROUBLESOME. The kit in the middle says NEW PLAYER: MOSSKIT, 0, MALE, BULLYING. The kit on the right reads NEW PLAYER: TRUMPETKIT, 0, FEMALE, NERVOUS].

---

The deep dark could do nothing to stop the rush of warmth and laughter flowing off the returning RippleClan cats. Clammask was in the thick of it, squished between Rustshade and Downstar as she carried an empty basket home. Everyone’s stories had been excellent. It was a wonderful start to the new season, and there was no Shadowdrop around to glare at Oilstripe.

And now Shadowdrop was back in Clammask’s mind, how wonderful. Why the tom couldn’t let go of a simple crush, Clammask would never understand. If she were leader, she would smack some sense into him. Ever since Carnationspeckle got pregnant, he was barely around, only returning after a long hunt or patrol. Maybe with Troutkit’s birth, Shadowdrop would mellow out. Or maybe he would get worse. Whatever the case, Clammask had her eye on him.

“We’re back!” Downstar called as she led RippleClan into camp. Clammask’s Clanmates pushed past her, yawning and chattering about everything their friends in the other Clans had to say. Parsley sat outside the nursery with Ripplekit, Lavenderkit, and Palekit. Parsley shot up at the Clan’s arrival. 

“Mom, Dad!” Lavenderkit called. Lavenderkit raced toward Weedfoot and James, who pushed into camp with Oilstripe and Halibutdusk. “Mom, Dad, Shadowdrop brought kits home!” Clammask’s feet dug into the sand as she turned to face the excited kit. 

“What was that?” James scoffed, turning his head as though he didn’t hear his son well. Palekit and Ripplekit joined their brother.

“Shadowdrop and Wildclaw came into camp and they had kits!” Lavenderkit said again.

“They’re cute,” Ripplekit noted as though that was the important part of the story. The whole Clan stared at Lavenderkit, the excited conversation dying down as the strange and sudden statement rippled through them.

“Parsley…” Downstar said as the tortoiseshell elder approached.

“We didn’t want to make a scene at Harvest Moon,” Parsley sighed. “It’ll be better if you hear your son’s story.” Downstar hurried past Parsley and to the nursery. Halibutdusk and Clammask ran after her.

The nursery was dark and cool when Clammask stepped inside. Waspkit and Puddlekit watched the shocking scene silently from their nest. Shadowdrop sat next to Carnationspeckle, head tall as his mother and leader entered. Carnationspeckle slowly pulled herself from sleep, shifting to face the crowd. Carnationspeckle had more kits at her belly than she started the day with. Troutkit was sound asleep, tucked into her mother’s fluff, but three black kits squirmed in Carnationspeckle’s embrace. Clammask knew in an instant they belonged to Shadowdrop.

“What did you do?” Clammask hissed.

“Clammask, he doesn’t have to explain himself,” Halibutdusk reminded her, blocking her path to Shadowdrop. “The code protects him.”

“I don’t have anything to hide, Halibut,” Shadowdrop huffed. Downstar crouched beside the three new kits. All three were blind to the world, but Troutkit seemed to sense the presence of her leader and mewed softly.

“Two mollies and a tom,” Downstar muttered. Shadowdrop stood behind Carnationspeckle and studied the three kits.

“Wildclaw and I went hunting,” Shadowdrop said. “We found a molly nursing these three. She was a kittypet whose humans planned to kill her kits. She had been hiding in the forests outside our territory for a few days nursing them, but had to return to her humans. She asked us to take them in.” Clammask’s gray eyes burned like boiling water. These kits were Shadowdrop’s by blood, they looked just like him and his littermates. There was no way under Silverpelt that these kits did not have RippleClan blood. Clammask was certain of it.

“Did she name them?” Downstar asked softly. Clammask’s glare turned on Downstar. Did she really believe Shadowdrop?”

“She asked us to pick names with her,” Shadowdrop explained. He walked back around Carnationspeckle and touched his nose to each kit as he said “Tempestkit… Mosskit… Trumpetkit.” He turned back to Downstar and said, “I want to raise them, Mom. I’ll be their father.” He already was their father, did no one else see it?

“I have the milk for them, luckily,” Carnationspeckle purred. “They’ve latched on well.”

“Thank you, Carnationspeckle,” Shadowdrop sighed. “I couldn’t do this without your help.” He touched his nose to Carnationspeckle’s forehead. Bile crawled up Clammask’s throat.

“Welcome to RippleClan, little ones,” Downstar purred, voice cracking as she licked each small kit. She then groomed her son’s cheek and Shadowdrop leaned into his mother.

“Where’s Wildclaw?” Clammask finally snapped. “I want to hear her side of this story.”

“You know how deeply she sleeps,” Shadowdrop sighed, rolling his eyes. “She probably isn’t aware you’re back at all.” A good excuse to keep the story straight, Clammask thought.

“Clammask, can you leave us?” Downstar asked, finally noticing someone other than her kin. “Let Fennelspot know we have new members of the Clan to care for.” Clammask nodded slowly and backed out of the den. She knew when her words would go unheeded. 

StarClan, what was Shadowdrop doing? Clammask was certain he still liked Carnationspeckle, she could see it in his eyes. So why have kits with someone else? Shouldn’t he be fighting for her attention, like in Rabbitjoy’s stories of the tormented lover in the flames? Why go about it like this?

“Clammask?” Clammask had stopped a few tail-lengths away from the nursery, unable to obey her leader’s request. She turned to find Waspkit standing behind her. He looked more like an apprentice than ever before, searching for answers in Clammask’s eyes.

“What is it?” Clammask asked. Waspkit glanced toward the rest of his family, all focused on Lavenderkit’s retelling of the day’s events.

“When I was younger, and I caught Ripplekit in Downstar’s den,” Waspkit muttered, “I told on her, because Mom said we weren’t allowed in there. My littermates got mad at me and said I was trying to show off to the adults. If I tell you what I saw tonight, will Shadowdrop say I’m messing with something that doesn’t involve me?” 

“Waspkit, there is a difference between trying to get someone in trouble and knowing something bad has happened.” Gray eyes tore into gray eyes as Clammask thought through each word. “If you think Shadowdrop has done something that could hurt someone, it’s important to tell someone you trust so we can help fix it.” Waspkit nodded.

“I saw Shadowdrop and Wildclaw leave camp this morning,” Waspkit whispered into Clammask’s ear. “It didn’t look like a hunting patrol. Shadowdrop looked nervous. And, and the kits look really little, like when Troutkit was just born. They smell weird, too. I don’t think Shadowdrop is telling the truth.”

“I don’t either, Waspkit,” Clammask said. “We’ll keep this to ourselves for now, alright? Try and get some sleep. Thank you for trusting me.” She touched noses with Waspkit. The young tom nodded stiffly and scurried back to the nursery.

Clammask had to do something, and she had to do it soon.

(Clammask: 33, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Downstar: 98, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Lavenderkit: 5, male, kit, noisy, likes to sing)

(James: 115, male, caretaker, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Parsley: 133, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Shadowdrop: 31, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 41, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Troutkit: 0, female, kit, insecure)

(Tempestkit: 0, female, kit, troublesome)

(Mosskit: 0, male, kit, bullying)

(Trumpetkit: 0, female, kit, nervous)

(Waspkit: 5, male, kit, bossy, interested in clan history, eye for detail)

Scrubmask, Clammask, and Fennelspot go in search of the mother.

[Image ID: Scrubmask, Clammask, and Fennelspot face Froggy, who says “You’re all too late.”]

---

“Scrubmask, you know he’s lying,” Clammask hissed, crouched beside her friend in a quiet corner of camp. Most of RippleClan had retired for the night or continued ooing and awwing at the three new kits in the nursery. Clammask and Scrubmask were largely ignored, which worked in the younger molly’s favor.

“Do I?” Scrubmask sighed, resting her chin between her paws. “All I see is a tom who decided to do the right thing and raise some kits he found.”

“Kits that look just like him,” Clammask groaned.

“If he lied, we can’t ask him,” Scrubmask reminded Clammask, watching her from the corner of her eye. “You know the code.”

“Yes, yes, but there’s something that might trump the code in this situation,” Clammask huffed. “Someone gave birth to those kits, and whether Shadowdrop is telling the truth or not, that someone is in trouble.”

“How so?” Scrubmask sat up.

“If he’s telling the truth, which I know he isn’t,” Clammask huffed, “there’s a kittypet stuck in an awful situation that she has the opportunity to leave, if we find her. If he’s lying, there is a loner or Clan cat or someone out there who has recently given birth and needs help. Carnationspeckle was exhausted giving birth to a single kit. Do you want to imagine what a lone mother could be going through?”

“We could be bringing trouble on these kits’ heads,” Scrubmask sighed. “Your arrival wasn’t that different from theirs.”

“Don’t remind me,” Clammask grumbled. When she learned who her mother was, she couldn’t help but think, what if she had grown up with Sunstrike? What if she had gotten the chance to have two parents rather than one? Would Twinekit and Locustseeker still be alive?

“We’ll be making a big fuss if we try to find the mother,” Scrubmask said. “Are you sure you want to go through with it?”

“If anyone can find her,” Clammask insisted, “it’s you and your nose. You always bring back prey, finding a strange cat shouldn’t be much different. Besides, I think I can get someone else to help.”

And get someone she did. Fennelspot was rightly distracted by the new kits, but he saw all the details Clammask and Waspkit noticed earlier. It didn’t take much to get him to pack a basket with a few medical essentials and follow Clammask and Scrubmask out of camp.

Perhaps it was the leftover gloom of Harvest Moon’s scary stories. Perhaps it was Clammask’s own nagging worry about the story behind those three black kits. Whatever the case, RippleClan territory loomed around her as she and Scrubmask tried to pick up the hours-old trail of the unknown queen.

“Clammask,” Fennelspot gulped as the night pressed on, “there may not be a good trail left to find. It could be lost in old scents. StarClan knows where Shadowdrop and Wildclaw encountered the kits.”

“We can’t go back yet,” Clammask groaned. “Those kits need their mother.”

“All I’m saying is that we may not find her tonight,” Fennelspot pointed out. “It’s been well over half a day since the kits arrived at camp. It’s late, we’re tired, and Scrubmask still hasn’t found a scent.” Fennelspot motioned toward Scrubmask, who had gone ahead of the pair to better find a scent, but the cream and white molly was gone. “Scrubmask?”

“I found something,” Scrubmask called. Clammask and Fennelspot jogged through the thick tree lines and through the scrub. Scrubmask crouched beside a small nook at the base of a fir. Clammask could smell it now; the thick and heavy scent of birth. Carnationspeckle reeked of it for days after her kitting. 

“You scared me for a moment, Scrubmask,” Fennelspot gulped. “I thought a Shadow claimed you! It is still technically Harvest Moon, don’t forget that.”

“I got distracted by the scent,” Scrubmask huffed, sniffing the ground around the tree. “There’s no mistaking this smell.”

“I was right!” Clammask cheered. “The kits are newborn! I knew they weren’t a few days old.”

“Neither of us disagreed,” Scrubmask pointed out. “You may be better off restraining your excitement. This has made things much harder for those kits.” Clammask settled down, clearing the cheer from her throat. 

“The scent heads south,” Fennelspot pointed out.

“The queen could be making camp near our territory!” Clammask jogged along the scent’s trail. “Hurry!” Trying to outpace the fastest cats in RippleClan was a fruitless venture, but Scrubmask and Fennelspot matched Clammask’s speed, hurrying alongside her, tasting the air.

Before long, the southern horse path came into view. A distant monster thundered toward WheatClan territory. The soul-shaking shriek of the poor horse trapped by the monster may have been dulled by distance, but it still made Clammask shiver. A figure shifted in the quiet dark on the other side of the horse path. Their fur was so dark, Clammask couldn’t make out their features in the night.

“Hello?” Clammask called. “We’re from RippleClan. Did you just give birth?” 

“Clammask, careful,” Scrubmask groaned as the younger molly hurried toward the horse path.

“We have your kits,” Clammask yowled, “We can reunite you! We brought our cleric, he can help you recover!” The figure stepped into better view. However, it was not the face of a tired queen, but rather an oh-so-familiar black kittypet.

“Froggy?” Scrubmask huffed, appearing at Clammask’s side. Froggy crept to the edge of the horse path. His paws were coated in dirt.

“You’re all too late,” Froggy growled. “She’s… she’s gone.” A mound of dirt rose up behind Froggy. The old kittypet stumbled back to the mound and laid on top of it. He turned his back to the group, his cheek pressed into the ground.

“I don’t understand,” Clammask muttered, mindlessly approaching the grave. “The trail… we followed it all the way from our territory. How could she get here if she…”

“Clammask,” Fennelspot whispered. He brushed against her and approached Froggy. He sat beside the kittypet and put his tail over Froggy’s back. “What was her name, Froggy?”

“Cinderella,” Froggy grumbled, turning away from the Clan cats. “Her name was Cinderella.”

“How did you know her?”

“She and her sister were born not far from my home. I’ve known her since she was a kit. I wasn’t going to let her waste away by the roadside.”

“That’s very noble of you.” Fennelspot looped around Froggy so he could meet his eyes. “Did you know Cinderella was expecting? Do you know what happened to her?”

“We think we have her kits,” Clammask huffed. “We think Shadowdrop is the father.”

“Shadowdrop?” Froggy’s head shot up. “He… that… that fox-hearted, manipulative…” Froggy shoved himself to his paws and glared at Clammask, sneering as he said, “He was the sire?”

“What do you know?” Scrubmask asked. She stood close to Clammask as Froggy’s fury smoked and sparked before them.

“She wanted to learn Clan skills,” Froggy growled, tail thrashing. “She knows you Clan cats can start fires and cure disease, she wanted to do those things too. She told me a Clan tom said if she had his kits, he would teach her anything she wanted to know. I only found out a few days ago. She wasn’t herself when her labor started. She ran off. Her sister asked me to find her, and when I did… I don’t know what went wrong, but Cinderella was in pain. She was trying to get home, and she only got so far…” Clammask’s fur burned with the same anger flowing through Froggy. 

“Tell us everything you know,” Clammask growled. “If Shadowdrop and Wildclaw left your friend to die, I’ll make sure they’re punished.”

(Clammask: 33, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Scrubmask: 56, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Fennelspot: 96, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

Larkstripe was previously Larkwing FQ! She has been renamed due to conflict with Sedgewhisker's daughter in the modern day.

Because of changes, Larkstripe is going to get a successor. That's going to be Thrushpelt WC, who is also getting a renaming to Thrushbreeze.

Larkstripe canonically links Mapleshade's Vengeance to Cloudstar's Journey, which is what my reworked timeline is based on.

Ripplekit was 4 moons old when he was taken from his mother, similar to being 8 or so. He remembers her very clearly.

Lark didn't have a mate. The honor sire is someone in WindClan.

This was before the Queen's Rights, but Honor-Siring within a Clan existed before that. The father was known but not involved.

She was experienced, self-assured, and intense. Honor and honesty were her favorite values; Ripplestar is a lot like her.

I slowly turned Ripple's generic blotches into heart-shapes and I realized it would be cool as hell if Larkstripe had diamonds. I just think card motifs are Neat.

I forgot that she's canonically silver-and-black and corrected it as soon as I remembered, but I did finish a coloring before I did. Bonus tortie Larkstripe be upon ye.