#sagetooth

Another kittypet lunged in to fill the other’s space, lashing out with both claws, and she barely avoided losing an eye with a corkscrew twist. There were so many of them, jostling around each other claustrophobically. She danced backwards, using her long reach to her advantage as she skirted claws and teeth and threw in a strike here or there. 

One of the kittypets struck hard in the elbow and she limped backwards only for another to lunge in and topple her onto her back again. She hissed and kicked out but this one didn’t give. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and she cried out in pain. The other cat was snapping at her tail. The number of cats was overwhelming, threatening to shut her brain down entirely which was terrifying. She could feel her thoughts spiraling out of control, wondering where Slatepaw was or if Songdust would be able to keep up with the amount of enemies. 

“Barley!” Yarrowshade’s voice snapped her back into the here and now. With a painful tug on her shoulder, the cat on top of her was tackled to the side and she managed to focus long enough to kick the other kittypet hard in the face. She stood and found herself back to back with Yarrowshade, relief flooding through her from every inch of him that pressed up against her. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she said without looking at him. The kittypet prowled in front of her, looking for a gap in her defense. 

“Get off me!” Yellowkit’s voice screamed above the din and it took all of her restraint not to turn her head towards the sound. 

“The kits,” she gasped.

“Go,” Yarrowshade said, “They need you.” She didn’t wait. Darting sideways, she wove around the thronging combatants, Yarrowshade snarling behind her. She moved as quickly as she could to the nursery, managing to leap and spring past any attacks that came her way until she came upon a smoky tabby hoisting Yellowkit by his scruff, another cat’s tail twitching in the entryway to the nursery as Bluekit screamed inside. 

“Back off!” Barleybee roared, smacking the tabby as hard as she could across the face. There was a righteous satisfaction in the resistance of his flesh against her claws. He reeled and Yellowkit managed to pull out of his grasp. 

“Help!” he wailed, trying to crawl underneath her, which wasn’t exactly helpful. 

“Get in the nursery!” she ordered, landing another sharp blow on the tabby’s head. Yellowkit nodded and rushed past her into the den. Barleybee turned quickly, hoping the tabby stayed down, and latched her teeth into the other rogue’s leg, yanking him backwards until his hindquarters were out of the den. Bluekit screamed even louder and Barleybee gave another frantic tug. 

“What the-” The kittypet wheeled around and swiped at her but she tumbled under the blow and into the nursery. Twisting onto her feet, she slashed at his eyes driving him backwards into the clearing. The two kittypets loomed close, glaring at her but she arched her back and did her best to block the entryway with her body. 

“Bluekit, are you hurt?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No, ma’am,” the kit said, voice trembling. 

“Good,” she nodded. “Both of you stay at the back of the den.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” cried Bluekit.

“Okay,” Yellowkit sniffled. 

“Out of the way, girl,” growled the second rogue, a burly, fawn-colored tom in a green collar.

“No way,” hissed Barleybee. 

“We’re just here for the kits,” said the smoke tabby, much calmer, as if they weren’t in the middle of a bloodbath. “They belong in the city with their mother. It’s wrong to keep them separated like this, surely you can see that.” 

“They’re happy where they are,” she said. “Touch them again and I’ll make you pay for it.” The tabby’s eyes darkened with thought. The fawn tom lunged. 

Barleybee had been waiting and she braced herself against his weight as he tried to shove her backwards into the den, paws skidding in the dirt. She wrapped her paws around his neck and sank her teeth into his cheek, twisting her head with her jaw clamped firmly around his flesh. He hissed in pain, twisted his head with hers to avoid the worst of the pain, and ended up losing his balance, forced to fall back. Barleybee gave him a few more claw wounds to send him on his way. 

The tabby moved in and reared up to swipe at her. Barleybee could tell by his stance that he would be easy to tackle but she ignored the temptation, instead swatting his paws out of the air before they could reach her face. He dropped back down, scowling, and she smirked in return. 

“Nice try,” she said. “I’m not moving.” 

“You’re smart,” said the tabby, “I’ll give you that.” Barleybee couldn’t help but be flattered, even if the cat complimenting her was despicable. When she realized it, her chest seized with panic. Was that a trick? Was he trying to get her to drop her guard with flattery? Had she already made a fatal mistake? She squared her stance, ears pressed back against her head, and bared her teeth. The smoky tabby’s tail twitched irritably. 

“London!” a voice hissed, “What’s the hold up?” Slinking in from the edge of the clearing came a small brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He glared at the smoky tabby for a beat before turning his cruel green gaze on Barleybee. 

“They’re big kits,” London said. “It’s not so easy to drag them off.” 

“Besides,” growled the fawn cat, “this bitch is blocking the door.” 

“She’s one girl!” the new tabby snapped, tail bristling. “Do your jobs already! Casper and I have already finished ours.” 

“If you’re so competent, do it yourself,” the fawn cat’s lip curled. The masked tabby’s gaze turned venomous. Barleybee took the chance to catch her breath, ears and eyes alert for any sign that one of them was about to move. She had to anticipate their attacks, had to be ready for anything. Yellowkit and Bluekit were counting on her.

Suddenly a new chorus of yowls broke out from the north-west. The movement of the battle shifted, turning towards the flood of cats that was pouring into the clearing. Barleybee’s eyes widened as she saw Snowstar and Orangestar clawing their way side by side into the heart of the fighting. 

“Reinforcements,” London hissed under his breath, his thick fur brushing up. 

“Quickly!” spat the masked tabby. “Let’s grab the kits and leave already!” 

The fawn cat lunged for Barleybee again and this time he took her to the ground. Yellowkit and Bluekit screamed in chorus as he slammed her onto her back. She kicked as hard as she could, trying to tear up his belly, and he twisted off of her, leaving claw marks on her shoulders. 

The nursery had been breached. London darted in over her, moving straight for the kits, only to be suddenly pulled backward by his tail. He yowled in pain, twisted around and slashed at Russetfrond but the deputy held fast to his tail. With another yank, he dragged London back out, stripping a section of his tail of fur. 

“You again,” the masked tabby grumbled, dropping low into a crouch. Russetfrond growled around the tail in his mouth. 

Barleybee quickly rolled to her feet and lunged for the rogue inside the nursery, tearing his fawn pelt in her claws as she chased him up against one of the walls. He kicked her hard in the belly and she stumbled back, trying to make her body as big of a barrier between him and the kittens as she could, but, to her surprise, he took the opportunity to slip through the entrance and take off into the night.

“Coward!” shouted the masked tabby. 

London had finally managed to get Russetfrond to let go of his tail and now he backed up next to the smaller cat. “I think it’s time to go.” Barleybee quickly moved to block the entrance again. Outside, the battlefield had changed dramatically. Now outnumbered, the city cats were starting to fall back one by one, only making the remaining rogues more outnumbered with every second. 

“Sardine, right?” Russetfrond growled, prowling forward. “You’re not going anywhere this time.” Appearing from the crowd, Sparrowsway hissed his agreement and moved to cut off the rear. The masked tabby -- Sardine, it seemed -- glanced warily at both of them, shifting into a smaller, defensive stance. London growled and turned to keep an eye on Sparrowsway, his tail twitching threateningly back and forth. 

A white shape slammed into Russetfrond’s side, pushing him off his feet. The deputy swayed, caught himself, and lurched back at the snub-nosed kittypet who had attacked him. The rogue’s face was drenched in blood, a crimson streak stark against his glossy white fur. Barleybee shuddered at the sight. Whose blood had he spilt? Was it someone she knew? 

“Just in time, Casper,” Sardine purred smugly. He sprang towards Barleybee and she braced herself only to realize he was leaping up over her head to escape. Sparrowsway lunged after him but London tackled him out of the air and they rolled away, hissing violently as they clawed at each other. Barleybee bunched her legs to go after Sardine but froze. She glanced over her shoulder at the kittens huddled frightfully against the wall of the nursery. They stared at her with matching pairs of wide, glistening copper eyes. 

What if she left and they were kitnapped because of her? But wasn’t catching the leader of the city cats a top priority? Her ears fell back against her head as she realized that in her indecision she had made her choice. Swallowing, she braced herself in the entryway again. London and Casper had detached themselves from their opponents in the time she’d spent waffling and fled after their leader. Russetfrond snarled after them for a moment, then his gaze fell on her and he hurried over. 

“Are they alright?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Yes, they’re safe,” she stepped to the side and pressed herself up against the wall to let him in.

“Father!” Bluekit wailed and rushed to press his face into Russetfrond’s fur. Yellowkit was close behind and Barleybee’s chest swelled with emotion as Russetfrond crouched down over his kits and ran his tongue over their pelts. 

“Did they hurt you?” he growled, checking their bellies and sides for wounds.

“They didn’t hurt us,” Bluekit shook his head.

“They were trying to take us away!” Yellowkit sobbed. 

“Those foxhearts,” Russetfrond snarled, curling tightly around his sons. “I’ll make them pay for that.” 

“That’s the last one!” Branchbark’s voice called out. Things had quieted somewhat but the camp was still noisy with the sound of EarthClan and SkyClan’s warriors. 

Stormwhisper leapt up on the Stoneperch and called, “Everyone with a serious injury, please gather over on the big flat stone there! Everyone else, please disperse so that we can tend to the wounded.” The crowd slowly began to separate and drift away from each other. 

Coyotechaser barked, “Someone help me take this kittypet out of camp and bury him.” Beneath her paws lay a tabby and white kittypet with glazed over expression. 

“I’ll help,” said Pantherhaze, limping over to her. Together, they started dragging the body out of camp, thank StarClan. Barleybee sighed, stepped away from the nursery, content that the kittens were safe, and padded over to Sparrowsway. 

He looked her over and asked, “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. She had her fair share of claw marks and a bite or two but nothing that needed immediate attention. “You?” 

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “I can’t believe they attacked during the gathering. Mystique must have told them about it.” He glared at the dirt, kneading his claws in frustration. Barleybee frowned worriedly. 

“I guess so…” she mumbled. Self-consciously, she straightened out a few of her feathers that had been knocked askew in the fight. She was certain that a few had fallen out. She’d have to find another cardinal to replace them…

A sudden scream cut through the air. Barleybee’s hackles shot up and her eyes darted across the camp to where Fogpaw was quickly backing out of the healers’ den. The apprentice’s fur stood on end, making her a white puff ball, and her tail arched sharply down behind her, ears pressed against her head. 

“What is it?” Scorchplume bounded over to her and searched her face. Fogpaw shook her head, staring unfocused into the mouth of the den. “Fogpaw, what’s wrong?” Fogpaw shook her head some more, this time meeting Scorch’s gaze, and burst into tears, flinging herself into her mentor’s chest. Scorchplume stiffened and very gingerly pulled the apprentice close, staring at Goldenstar for help. Goldenstar, standing by her den with Orangestar and Snowstar, looked just as lost and extremely concerned. 

After a moment, Floodstrike stepped out of the healer’s den, his paws drenched in thick, dark blood. He looked angrier than Barleybee had ever seen him and his eyes were red with tears. Dread gripped her chest tightly in its claws as the whole clearing held its breath. 

“Sagetooth and Lakepaw are dead,” he said hoarsely. “The herb stores are destroyed.” 

“Oh, stars,” Barleybee breathed. They’d been sick. Undefended. An overwhelming wave of crushing guilt fell over her. She should have known. She should have gone to help them. Someone else would have saved the kittens, she should have rescued Lakepaw. She started to cry as well, paws shaking as the adrenaline crash consumed her. 

“No,” Branchbark sobbed. Quickly, he hurried past Floodstrike into the healers’ den, jostling Floodstrike who failed to step out of the way. 

“Bogmist!” Stormwhisper stood up from where he had been inspecting Ospreymask’s wounds. “I need cobwebs and sorrel right now.” The EarthClan deputy nodded and took off towards the woods. Stormwhisper looked at the nearest non-RisingClan warrior and said, “You! I need fresh moss and water from the river. Go!” Nodding dutifully, Pebblefall leapt to their feet and dashed off into the fields. 

“Floodstrike,” Sparrowsway started towards his brother but Floodstrike turned his head away and stalked out of camp. Sparrowsway paused and looked back at Barleybee. 

She swallowed, sniffed, and said, “I’ll talk to him.” Quickly, she strode across camp to follow him. She caught up with him at the bottom of the hill on the southern side of camp, calling, “Floodstrike, wait!”

“I’m going to kill them,” he spat through tears, still walking. “I’m going to kill every single one of those monsters.”

“Wh- Now?” Barleybee asked, following his gaze towards the glowing orange of the distant city lights. “Floodstrike, that’s impossible! You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

“So what?” he rounded on her, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I have to do something! She needed me and I let her die! I failed her!” 

“You couldn’t have known!” Barleybee pleaded. “It’s not your fault, Floodstrike.” 

“She was my apprentice,” he sniffed harshly. “She looked up to me -- stars, she was so young! She was my little girl and they killed her!”

“I know,” Barleybee’s tears were flowing freely now. “I know, Floodstrike. But trying to take revenge isn’t going to make you feel any better. It will only make you a killer too.” 

“I’m not doing this for me!” he hissed, tail arching, “I’m doing this for her! She’s watching! She deserves to know I’m not just going to accept what they did to her!” 

“She wouldn’t want you to do this,” Barleybee stepped closer. “She was so sweet and kind. She would want you to move on and heal, Floodstrike. Please, come back to camp with me.” She watched his face for a good, long moment. His eyes were blazing with fury and red with grief. His throat rippled with effort. Eventually, he grit his teeth and looked down at his paws, chest shuddering with sobs, and sat down. Barleybee sat down next to him and pressed her head against his. 

“I… I can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered between breaths. 

“I’m so sorry,” Barleybee pressed firm licks to his cheeks. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have to be this way.” Something about that caused him to break down even harder and he collapsed into her side. Barleybee wrapped her arms around his neck and eased him down to the ground. The two of them lay there, holding each other, and Barleybee tried to convince herself that, at the very least, if she couldn’t be there for Lakepaw it was good that she could be there for Floodstrike. 

The thought rang hollow and she spent the rest of the night thinking of what she could have done differently -- what she should have done differently. When they went back for the vigil, she whispered an apology to Lakepaw’s body. When they found white and dark tabby fur under Lakepaw’s claws, Barleybee knew exactly who was responsible but held off on telling Floodstrike. When they went to bed, she, Sparrowsway, and Oddstripe curled tightly around Floodstrike in a single nest, weary eyed and worn. 

“I dunno,” Lakepaw whispered. Steadying herself, she crept quickly and quietly to the mouth of the den, staying low and light on her paws. Out in the clearing, a horde of cats was engaged in combat, hissing and clawing at each other with bloody muzzles and fur between their claws. Lakepaw’s eyes widened in fear. 

“It’s rogues!” she whispered back to Sagetooth. “There’s rogues in camp!” 

“Fox-dung!” Sagetooth spat under her breath.

Lakepaw tried to pick familiar faces out of the storm of fur and teeth. There, Yarrowshade dodged blows from two separate kittypets. There, Pantherhaze tumbled with a black and white cat twice his size. There, Ospreymask grabbed a kittypet by the ear and tore him off of Slatepaw’s struggling form only for another cat to lunge for the apprentice’s tail as soon as she was on her feet. The warriors were outnumbered and fighting tooth and nail to keep their heads above the metaphorical water. 

“Get off me!” Lakepaw heard Yellowkit screaming and her gaze whipped to the nursery where a scarred smoky tabby was struggling to lift the kit by the scruff while another kittypet pursued Bluekit deeper into the den. 

“I have to go help them!” Lakepaw said, looking back at Sagetooth. The old healer had heaved herself from her nest and tossed the moss from her forehead, stumbling back to the herb stores with a wobbly step. She didn’t seem to register what Lakepaw had said and suddenly she wasn’t so sure if she should leave Sagetooth alone. 

“This way,” she heard a stranger’s voice close by and instinctively pressed herself against the wall of the den and out of sight. “Their herbs are stored in one of these dens.” 

“Not this one,” another voice said from somewhere to the side -- Goldenstar’s den, most likely.

Lakepaw backed away from the entrance, tail bristling and tried to make herself as big as she could. If the rogues got to the herbs, cats would surely die of injuries. She couldn’t let that happen. Besides, Sagetooth was back there, heat-stricken and vulnerable. Lakepaw took a slow deep breath and tried to remember everything Floodstrike had taught her, deeply grateful she had been putting in extra battle training hours lately. 

Two kittypets pushed their way into the den, the first of them a smallish brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He narrowed his eyes as he saw her, back arching slightly. The other, standing a step behind him, was a white, snub-nosed tom who raised his brows and cocked his head, an amused smile on his face.

“Aww, she’s trying to be intimidating,” the white cat purred mockingly. “Should we take her with us too?” 

“If you want to deal with her, be my guest,” the tabby scowled. “I’m going to do what we came here for.” He took a step forward and Lakepaw hissed loudly, rearing up on her toes. 

“Stay back!” she spat, “You’re not allowed in here!” 

“Oh no,” the tabby said sarcastically, “I guess we’ll have to turn around.” Then he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Casper?”  

The white cat shouldered his way past the tabby and prowled towards her, grinning. Lakepaw knew she had to move. She bunched her legs underneath her and lunged at his face, swatting at him with a series of quick claw strikes. He hissed and reared back before headbutting her squarely in the nose. She cried out and thumped gracelessly onto the ground. Her pre-existing headache throbbed nauseatingly and she nearly gagged when a heavy paw pressed down on her abdomen. She vaguely registered the tabby picking his way past her with careful pawsteps. 

He opened his mouth to scent the air as he ventured deeper, saying to himself, “Alright, now where are those-” 

He cried out suddenly as Sagetooth’s familiar hiss sounded over the noise of a solid thwap. Lakepaw tilted her head to watch the kittypet recoiling, blood pooling over the bridge of his nose. Sagetooth had apparently been waiting around the corner and now she struck out again, scraping her claws against his cheek. 

“Get out, you faithless, snake-hearted kittypets!” the old healer snarled, swaying on her feet. “Begone! And may StarClan curse you for all your days!” 

“You backwards old hag!” the tabby spat back and struck Sagetooth on the side of the head so hard that her face collided with the wall of the den. With a loud thunk, she slid to the ground, groaning weakly. 

Lakepaw twisted and bit the paw pinning her down as hard as she could. Casper yanked it back with a hiss of pain and she scrambled to her feet then charged the smaller tom. With a leap, she sank her claws into his back and the two of them toppled under her momentum. The tom cried out, flailing his legs in her direction, but she clung tightly with her forepaws and rabbit-kicked as hard as she could with claws unsheathed. His flesh tore under her blows and another wave of nausea overtook her just long enough for the tom to wrench himself free from her grasp. 

“Insufferable little-!” the tabby puffed up as he got to his feet, looking like he’d just suffered a terrible indignity. 

“Lakepaw, run,” Sagetooth managed to say, shifting her weight as she tried to stand. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” the tom said as if correcting a naughty kitten and smacked Sagetooth sharply on the forehead again. She crumpled to the ground but that didn’t stop him. He kept raining blows on her head one after the other after the other. Lakepaw screamed and lunged for him but Casper intercepted her with a hook of his claws, pulling her tight to his chest. She thrashed, vision blurring through tears, but couldn’t seem to free herself. 

“That’s what you get!” the tabby shrieked with one final strike. “How dare you lay your paws on me?!” Lakepaw held her breath and strained her ears but Sagetooth didn’t even moan. A tense silence filled the den, contrasted by the sounds of battle still raging outside. Lakepaw desperately blinked the tears from her eyes and nearly burst into tears again when she saw the blood dripping out of Sagetooth’s nose, the healer’s eyelids moving sluggishly over her fully dilated pupils. 

“Sagetooth!” she wailed, paws shaking. 

The tabby took a deep, slow breath and let it out shakily then ran his tongue over his paw like he had dirtied it by touching her. When he straightened back up, he was wearing a placid smile as if nothing had happened. 

“Right,” he said to himself, glancing over at the cat holding Lakepaw captive. “Are you really going to bother with that thing?” He frowned at her in distaste. 

“Maybe,” Casper shrugged. “We’re here for their kits, aren’t we?” Lakepaw trembled against his chest, too afraid to move. 

“We’re here for the exalted kits,” the tabby scoffed. “This one’s a savage through and through. Look, she’s already bitten you. Just be done with her and help me with the actually important work.” 

“Fine,” Casper sighed and suddenly teeth were in Lakepaw’s throat. She gasped sharply, clawed at his face and kicked at the paws holding her still but they didn’t budge. With a tug of his head, he ripped something in her neck and then dropped her to the floor, stepping over her with a few quick strides. She fumbled to stand but collapsed again, slipping in her own blood as it soaked her fur all the way down her right foreleg and pattered into the dirt. 

“Everything gets destroyed,” the tabby said. “I don’t want a single usable leaf left.” 

“Whatever you say, Sardine,” said Casper. 

Lakepaw crawled across the floor, feeling dizzy. It took all of her strength to drag herself over to Sagetooth and gently rest their foreheads against each other. 

“It’s… gonna be okay, Sagetooth,” she murmured, closing her eyes so she could focus on the words. “We just have to hang on… It’s gonna be… okay…” Sagetooth didn’t respond. Lakepaw sniffled and tried to purr, hoping that maybe -- just maybe -- that would be enough to keep Sagetooth awake until someone came to help them.

“Oh,” Sagetooth said simply. 

“Yeah,” Poppyblaze grimaced. “I’m sorry old friend. I wasn’t expecting to come for you for a while.” 

Sagetooth’s gaze drifted down to the apprentice laying beside her own body, over which she now stood. “She died to protect me,” she said. “Poor kit.” 

“She gave quite the fight for her age,” hummed Poppyblaze. “Are you alright if I wake her now? We really should be going.” 

“Of course,” Sagetooth said, then inhaled sharply with memory. “Wait, I have to check on something!” She quickly hopped over the flowers woven around her feet and headed for the healers’ den at a brisk pace. 

“Don’t go far!” Poppyblaze hissed worriedly. “It’s not safe!” Sagetooth twitched an ear dismissively and continued into the den. There was nothing that would hurt her here and she had important things to do. 

As she stepped into the den, the blood that covered the floor made her pause. Even though every scent felt like it was miles away, she could pick up on the pungent odor of blood and urine -- and not just the expected amount of urine that came with the dead. Stepping further in, she found the herb stores in disaster, every herb tossed to the floor, shredded, and sprayed by the rogues. She curled her lip in disgust.

“Honorless brutes,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Turning away from that mess, she marched purposefully around the corner to Oddstripe’s empty nest and sighed in relief when she saw the small lump underneath the back corner. The horsetail and juniper she had hidden there was safe. She had no doubt Oddstripe would find it eventually. There wouldn’t be another death like Nightfrosts. 

Set at ease, she turned back and padded out into the clearing where Poppyblaze was standing with Lakepaw’s spirit in the middle of the circle of mourners. Poor Lakepaw was softly weeping into the guide’s starry fur. 

Sagetooth padded over and said, “There, there, Lakepaw. It’s going to be alright.” 

Lakepaw looked up at the sound of her voice and sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Sagetooth,” she whined. “I promise I tried my best.” 

“I know,” Sagetooth smiled. “You were a brave warrior.” Lakepaw sniffled again and rubbed a paw over her face, managing to return her smile, just a bit. 

“Alright, now, let’s be quick,” said Poppyblaze. “This place isn’t safe.”

“How so?” Sagetooth scowled. “I’ve never heard of anything dangerous in StarClan.” 

“We’re not in StarClan,” Poppyblaze explained, leading they over to the Stoneperch. “We’re in a place called the Parallel. It’s the place where the spirit and the physical meet, and right now, Razor’s ghost is prowling around it somewhere.” 

“What?” Sagetooth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How is that possible?! Only Clan cats move on to the afterlife.” 

“Oh, Sage,” Poppyblaze shook her head. “There’s so much you don’t know about the universe.” Sagetooth bristled indignantly. If there was knowledge out there, why hadn’t StarClan shared it with her? Why hadn’t Poppyblaze told her about it before? 

With a flick of her tail, Poppyblaze sent a shower of stars into the sky, leading up in a series of platforms, and said, “This way! Let’s get climbing.” 

“Wowzers,” breathed Lakepaw and Poppyblaze chuckled. 

“I like you, kid,” she purred. “Now, come on.” She gave Lakepaw’s rump a nudge with her nose and the apprentice hopped up, easily leaping from platform to platform into the sky. Sagetooth hesitated, shifting her weight. 

“You can’t make a slope of some kind?” she asked. 

Poppyblaze laughed and said, “Just give me one jump, yeah?” 

Sagetooth sighed, grumbling under her breath, and bunched her legs beneath her. It had been a long time since she’d properly jumped and she was not looking forward to it. Still, if Razor was loose somewhere around here, she’d be much better suited to jumping than fighting him. She leapt and was amazed to find herself easily and painlessly landing on the first platform. Her eyes sparkled in wonder and she glanced down at Poppyblaze who laughed again.

“See? You don’t have a body anymore so no more joint pain! Pretty cool, huh?” 

“It’s very nice, yes,” Sagetooth purred to herself, stretching out each leg experimentally. 

“Great, now let's go, go, go,” urged Poppyblaze, hopping up beside her. Sagetooth nodded and started ascending. She was buzzing giddily at the freedom in her movements, in the way she could coordinate her limbs and move them without the aching resistance she had grown used to for the last few years. 

Over their heads, Lakepaw cried out, “Wowzers! Look at the world from up here!” 

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” grinned Poppyblaze. The higher they climbed, the more Sagetooth had to agree. The world was a stunning mess of mauves rustling in the breeze. A hint of orange had just started to peek over the eastern horizon and the contrast took Sagetooth’s breath away. 

“Hey, what’s that?” Lakepaw asked. 

“Hm?” Poppyblaze perked her ears. She and Sagetooth followed the apprentice’s gaze to the south. Standing in the grass, not too far from camp, several smudges of glowing red broke up the peaceful purple landscape. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Poppyblaze swallowed. 

“Razor?” Sagetooth asked. 

“Yeah, I think so. I’m going to check it out. I need you to stay here, okay?” She looked at both of them sternly and said, “Don’t go up without me and don’t try to go down under any circumstances, understood?” 

“Yeah,” Lakepaw’s fur was standing on end as she nodded.

“Absolutely not,” Sagetooth huffed. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, Sage, my stubborn, stubborn friend,” Poppyblaze’s expression was some mixture of distress and admiration. “Now really isn’t the time for this.” 

“If it isn’t safe for me to go along then you shouldn’t be going, you reckless fool,” Sagetooth stood her ground.

Poppyblaze sighed. “I guess that’s a fair point. Alright, fine. Stay here, Lakepaw, we’ll be back soon.” 

“Okay,” Lakepaw’s voice was shaky. “Please be safe.” 

“We will be,” Sagetooth assured her, then looked at Poppyblaze and gestured for her to lead the way. Poppyblaze took a careful step forward into the open air and when her paws moved away, there were starry platforms in their wake. Sagetooth fell into step behind her and they set out over the fields towards the red shapes. 

As they drew closer, Sagetooth started to make out the silhouettes of cats. A tall grey tabby stood in the center of the group, flanked by a cream tabby she-cat, a black-furred tom with white paws, and a pair of blue and white cats with notches in their ears. All five of them had the same shimmery pelts as StarClan but the stars were red tinged or dull and grey. 

“What are so many cats doing in the Parallel?” Poppyblaze whispered to herself, halting to observe them from a short distance behind and a tree’s length above. 

“That big one, is Razor, yes?” Sagetooth asked in the same hushed tone. She’d never seen the rogue’s body, too busy with healing the wounded, but she had heard the stories. She could see the gaping wound in his throat dripping ichor as he hunched over in the grass. He looked like stories of Dark Forest ghosts but that didn’t make any sense to her.

“Mhm,” nodded Poppyblaze. “He destroyed Darkmoon and EarthClan’s guide and tried to destroy me.” 

“What’s he doing?” asked Sagetooth. Both she and Poppyblaze squinted at Razor who was doing something with his paws over a space of fresh churned earth. He hooked his claws into something and pulled up dragging a new glowing red shape up from the dirt. In horror, Sagetooth watched the face of a cat burst from the ground, choking and gasping for air as Razor hoisted his spirit up by the scruff. The cat scrambled to his feet and stared around, eyes wide, chest heaving, and Razor smiled with a deep rumbling purr that Sagetooth could just barely hear. 

“Welcome to the land of the not quite living, Harry, ” he said, slapping the new cat on the back. 

“Oh, no,” Poppyblaze swallowed. “This is bad. This is very bad. Where’s Bakari?” 

“Who?” Sagetooth couldn’t help but ask. 

“What’s going on? Where are we?” the newly dead cat panted. “Who are they?” Sagetooth’s stomach dropped as he looked directly up at her and Poppyblaze. Razor cocked his head and turned in their direction. When he saw them, a terrible smile spread across his face, made all the more gruesome by the ichor seeping between his teeth. 

“Oh, look,” he purred and the whole group of cats turned to look at them, “It’s my little friend. I never did catch your name, sweetheart.” 

Poppyblaze bristled and twitched her tail against Sagetooth’s flank. “We’re leaving,” she whispered. “Now.” Sagetooth didn’t need any further prompting, quickly, she twisted on the starry platforms and started bounding back to where they had left Lakepaw waiting. Poppyblaze was close on her tail.

“Come now, don’t be like that!” Razor jeered after them and a couple of the other cats laughed. “Come on down so we can get friendly!” 

“This is very bad,” Poppyblaze hissed under her breath. “Worse than I thought.” 

“How so?” Sagetooth tilted her ears backward in curiosity. 

“How to explain…” Poppyblaze hummed thoughtfully. “So, when a creature dies, their soul is trapped inside their body. If left there, it rots and disappears, just like the rest of them, but if someone disconnects them from their body, they can live for effectively eternity, given the right conditions.” 

“Right, as long as they’re remembered, they resist fading away,” Sagetooth nodded. 

“Not exactly,” Poppyblaze said, “but that’s not really important right now.” Sagetooth twitched an ear in irritation, wishing Poppyblaze would stop saying confusing and ambiguous new things, but held her tongue so the guide could continue. “Separating a soul from a body is a tricky process, one that guides have been teaching each other for countless millennia. It looks like, somehow, Razor has figured out how to do it, or how to brute force it at least.” 

“Alright,” Sagetooth frowned, trying to put the pieces together. “So now, instead of wasting away, the kittypets’ spirits will be stuck on the Parallel with Razor where they can harass spirits waiting to go to StarClan?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Poppyblaze said to Sagetooth’s frustration. “Usually, Bakari comes and collects the non-Clan cats in this area, but for some reason, he hasn’t been doing that.” 

“Who is this Bakari you keep talking about?” Sagetooth grumbled. 

“The guide for feline souls,” Poppyblaze’s tail began to twitch, “exempting Clan cats who have their own guides.” 

“But that’s not-” Sagetooth grit her teeth. “That doesn’t make any sense! Only Clan cats persist after death. That’s how it’s always been!” 

“Sorry, Sage, but that’s just not true,” Poppyblaze shook her head. “Everything has its own guide -- cats, dogs, mice, birds, beetles, twolegs. Everything! There’s even a guide who collects the plants! He’s a big ol’ thing with a prehensile nose and the shaggiest fur you’ve ever seen. Name’s Frost. Lovely guy, excellent conversationalist.” 

“Poppyblaze!” Sagetooth snapped, lashing her tail. They were almost back to Lakepaw now and she turned around to glare at the old spirit. “Enough about the plants! I still don’t understand what’s going on!” 

“It’s a lot to understand,” said Poppyblaze sympathetically, “but I’ll try to summarize.” She shifted her posture, collecting her thoughts, and said, “Alright, so Bakari usually collects the spirits of cats from outside the Clan. Every so often, a creature with a particularly strong will can separate themself on their own -- that’s how the first guides were created and it's what I assumed Razor had done. When I ran into him the first time, he said that he’d already destroyed two other cats and since EarthClan’s guide had never returned from gathering Darkmoon, I assumed they were the cats he’d destroyed.

“But this is so much worse. I think he destroyed Bakari when he tried to take Razor to the next life. He’s obsessed with getting back to his body like Goldenstar did and said he was going to keep killing cats until someone showed him how.”

“Oh,” Sagetooth swallowed. “That’s definitely not good.” 

“And that’s not all,” continued Poppyblaze. “If he’s only killed two cats and they were Bakari and Chestnutsprout, then Darkmoon is missing. He could be here on the parallel or he might be lost in the Clouds! Who knows!” 

“Then we need to get back to StarClan,” Sagetooth said. “They have to know.” 

“Agreed,” Poppyblaze chewed her lip. “Come on, let’s grab Lakepaw and get moving.” They padded quickly over the remaining distance to where Lakepaw was waiting dutifully for them. 

“Is everything okay?” she called as they approached. 

“Everything’s fine, dear,” said Sagetooth.

“Not really,” smiled Poppyblaze, “but we’re all safe for now. Let’s keep climbing, okay?” 

“Okay,” nodded Lakepaw and they all started up the platforms again. 

Sagetooth glared at Poppyblaze. “You didn’t have to worry the kit like that.” 

“She deserves to hear the truth,” Poppyblaze shrugged. “Or would you prefer I hide things from her like StarClan hid things from you?” Sagetooth’s anger fizzled immediately. 

“I suppose I’d rather not lie to her,” she sighed. After a moment she asked, “Why did StarClan keep the nature of things a secret? What harm is there in knowing other creatures have spirits that linger just like we do?” She trusted that there was some explanation, that StarClan had made the choice with good reason, but she couldn’t think of what it could be.

“A lot of them don’t know,” Poppyblaze admitted, “not any more at least. And the cats who do, well, you’d have to ask them, but I suspect they thought it would keep the Clans in line.” 

“In line?” Sagetooth sputtered. “What are you talking about?” 

“Well,” Poppyblaze hummed, “if you think that leaving the Clan means you lose your chance at the afterlife, you’re a lot more inclined to stay in the Clan, aren’t you?”

Sagetooth scowled. “I suppose.” This was very troubling. Wasn’t that for the best though? Leaving the Clan was tantamount to death. The poor young cats who were seduced by the lives of kittypets or rogue lovers were abandoning their homes, their traditions, their families. But still, even if their spirits existed after death, they didn’t get to hunt in StarClan’s forests so why lie? Wasn’t the outcome the same either way? The whole situation didn’t sit right with her at all. 

“Alright,” Poppyblaze said, as they neared the lower reaches of cloud cover. “We’re about to head into the Clouds, alright? It’s pretty maze-like in there and easy to get lost so make sure you stay where you can see me and let me know if you need to stop or slow down, got it?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Lakepaw said, eyes wide with awe. 

He resisted the urge to pace or to barge into the den to ask how things were going. He’d seen too many anxious parents-to-be get their ears chewed off by Sagetooth when they intruded on a kitting in progress. Instead, he sat still and tried to focus on his breathing, on emptying all worry from his mind. Today was important, the birth of his eldest kits. He wasn’t going to squander it worrying. He was going to focus on his new family, on the beginning of a new chapter in his ultimate legacy. 

The time dragged by at an unbearable crawl. Every so often a cat stopped by to congratulate him or ask him how things were going. He remained as polite as possible but kept things short. He didn’t want any distractions. 

Eventually, an hour or so later, Sagetooth stepped outside, blood on her paws, and glanced over at him. “Are you ready?” 

“Is any father ever ready?” he asked, almost hoping she would say yes.

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. A quiet moment passed as Sagetooth let her gaze drift across the camp. When it finally settled on him again, she said, “Congratulations on two healthy boys. Be warned though: the kittypet is in a mood.” 

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he said, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Sagetooth. I mean it.” 

“Of course, kit,” she softened slightly. “Go meet your sons.” Russetfrond nodded and slipped past her into the den, letting his tail brush against her leg as he did. Inside, Mystique was laying in her nest, her head flat on the ground like a mopy kitten while she talked softly with Oddstripe. 

“-bring you some chamomile later,” Oddstripe was saying. “It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart. Don’t hesitate to call me if you start feeling any worse.” 

“...‘Kay,” Mystique sighed moodily, eyes flickering over Russetfrond. He tried not to scowl. 

Oddstripe bumped foreheads with Mystique and then picked up the birthwaste and stood to leave. Spotting Russetfrond he frowned slightly, if sympathetically, and slipped out of the den past him. Russetfrond shifted his weight, looked at Mystique, and she sighed and rolled her eyes over to the far wall. 

Russetfrond stepped closer, focusing on the two gently squirming bodies nestled up against her belly. They were so tiny. Russetfrond realized suddenly that he’d never seen kittens this… new. The kits - his boys - were a little wet yellow lump and a little wet blue lump mewling pathetically as they wriggled closer to Mystique. It was strange, the surge of emotion that he felt upon seeing them. He’d never felt so intensely protective before, it was a bit startling. 

“Hello, there, little ones,” he said awkwardly, crouching down beside them. “I’m your father.” Mystique huffed and shifted her position a little bit, still not looking at him. He couldn’t stop himself from scowling at her but tried to soften his expression again with a sigh. 

“You haven’t named them yet, have you?” he asked, a note of irritation sneaking in to his voice despite his best efforts. 

“No,” Mystique said as if he were the dumbest cat alive. “Why would I name them?” 

That caused his hackles to rise. “Because they’re your children, mouse-brain,” he scoffed.

Mystique’s tail lashed and she flopped her head sideways to glare at him. “No, I feel like you made it pretty clear they were your children.” 

“Look,” Russetfrond took a deep breath to try and anchor himself, “I didn’t come in here to fight with you, let’s just… forget it, alright?” 

“Easy for you to say,” Mystique grumbled, looking away again. Russetfrond dug his claws into the earth and did his very best not to say anything at all. After a few, slow breaths, he refocused on the kittens. They would need names, of course. He had unfortunately forgotten to think about names before now. 

“I’ll call them…” He hesitated before going with the first thoughts that came to mind, “Bluekit and Yellowkit.”

“Wow,” Mystique laughed and he could hear the eye roll in her voice, “so original.” 

“If you think they’re bad names then why don’t you try to do better,” he snapped, tail bristling. 

“I don’t give a shit what you call them,” growled Mystique. “The moment Sagetooth lets me, I'm going home and I’ll never see them or you ever again!” 

“Well, that’s fine by me,” Russetfrond huffed. “I wouldn’t want you influencing them anyway.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Mystique laughed harshly, “better to have a bunch of murderers raise them. That’s SO much better!” 

Russetfrond bristled. “Your brother was the murderer. He attacked Goldenstar out of spite, I was just defending my Clan.” 

“Well clearly it wasn’t that bad ‘cause she’s fine,” Mystique snarled. Tears were starting to form in her eyes and drip down the bridge of her nose. “You think you’re so special but you’re never gonna convince me that it’s good that you killed him! I hate you! I hate you and your stupid kits and this stupid den!”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” he growled lowly. 

“You’re lucky I don’t throw them in the river!” hissed Mystique.

Russetfrond bristled and arched his back. “You harm one hair on their pelts and I’ll make sure you never see your precious twolegs again! Is that what you want?” 

“I want to go home!” she cried at the top of her lungs and the kittens squealed in displeasure. “I want my brother back!” 

“Well too bad!” he shouted back at her. “You can’t always have what you want, you spoiled little brat!” 

“I hate you!” Mystique screamed, eyes shut tight with the effort of it. “I hate you! I hate you! I-”

“What is going on in here!?” Sagetooth’s voice cut through their argument, quick and sharp, leaving Russetfrond standing in a puddle of guilt. The healer’s eyes flicked between the both of them, looking for a culprit. Russetfrond couldn’t hold her gaze and dropped his eyes to the floor shamefully. Mystique breathed harshly through her nose and looked away again. 

“Out,” Sagetooth ordered Russetfrond. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say. With an affirmative grunt, he stepped outside. Fogpaw and Slatepaw were staring with wide eyes from the fresh-kill pile. Pantherhaze, Ospreymask, Barleybee, and Lakekit had all emerged to see what was going on. Shame covered Russetfrond like a winter coat. Unable to bear their stares, he strode briskly into the healers’ den and tucked himself away out of sight. 

There was a long moment of quiet guilt - why had he done that? What was wrong with him? - and then he heard Sagetooth snapping at the assembled cats, “Where did he go?” 

“Your den,” offered Slatepaw obediently. 

“Thank you,” said Sagetooth just as harshly as she had inquired after him and he braced himself. Sagetooth came stomping in, tail lashing back and forth, and spotted him immediately. He expected her to start laying into him but instead, she sighed and trundled over to sit next to him. 

“I tried to warn you,” she grumbled. 

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not entirely your fault,” Sagetooth shook her head. “Mystique is reacting poorly to the pregnancy.” 

“Clearly,” he huffed. 

“No, I mean physically,” Sagetooth said. “Kitting takes a toll on a cat and sometimes it can make them miserable for seemingly no reason. They call it a Kitten Crash.” 

“Oh,” he frowned in surprise. 

“So,” Sagetooth continued, her own voice strained with frustration for a moment, “as much as her particular form of crashing drives me mad, we need to be gentle with her.” It was clear Sagetooth was going to have as much trouble with that as he was. “She can’t exactly help it. And if her symptoms worsen, it could be very bad.” 

“Bad how?” asked Russetfrond carefully.

“Well, she could stop eating,” Sagetooth sighed. “Or refuse to nurse. Worst case scenario she tries to hurt herself or the kits.” 

“What?” fear spiked through his body like a jolt of electricity. “Shouldn’t we get them away from her?”

“No,” Sagetooth shook her head again. “She’s the only one who can feed them at the moment and that’s not a guarantee, it’s just a worst case scenario. That’s why we need to be gentle with her. The less stressed she is, the less likely it is that she’ll do something foolish.” 

Russetfrond swallowed, throat tight, and sat with that information for a bit. The idea of leaving a dangerous cat alone with his kits, a cat who hated him so much, made every inch of his pelt crawl like it was full of ants. She had already threatened to throw them in the river, a threat that was suddenly a lot more serious than he had first thought. 

“You’re sure it will be alright?” he asked eventually. 

“If it gets to a point where it’s dangerous, we’ll do something about it,” Sagetooth said. “She should probably still have a guard at all times so they can monitor her for any bad behavior.” Russetfrond nodded and started thinking of the best cats to do that. 

“The important thing,” Sagetooth continued, “is to keep her happy. Oddstripe and I will do our best on the herbs side of things but you should probably stay out of the den, at least for a while.” 

Russetfrond sighed and nodded. “Alright. That won’t affect the kits negatively?” 

“I don’t think so,” Sagetooth said. “Not anymore than a normal foundling would be affected.” Russetfrond hummed in discomfort. It wasn’t ideal, that was for sure, but what else could he do? He didn’t want to accidentally provoke Mystique into harming the kittens.

“Did you name them?” asked Sagetooth.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, shaking his thoughts away. “Yellowkit and Bluekit, respectively.” 

Sagetooth huffed a little laugh. “Well, I can’t say they’re not fitting.” Russetfrond smiled a little. “Congratulations, by the way,” continued Sagetooth. “You’re going to be an excellent father.” 

“I can only hope so,” he said. 

“StarClan will guide you,” she said. “Trust your heart. It will be okay, kit.”

UPDATES:

Sagetooth had thwapped her hard on the head and chewed her out for ages despite her efforts to explain why she needed it. After that, she had been put on dawn patrols for a week and now, three days in, she was already exhausted. 

“This sucks!” she had groaned as she trudged back into camp, tired and cranky. “Why do I have to do the early morning patrols all the time? It’s not fair!” 

“Nope,” said Scorchplume, seeming amused. “Life isn’t fair.” 

“But I was just trying to help!” Fogpaw protested as she flopped down in the shade. 

“You took something that wasn’t yours and you got caught,” said Scorchplume. “This is what happens when you get caught.” 

“It’s not like I was gonna use it for myself,” she said, neglecting to mention how tempting it had been once she was nose deep in the catmint smell, “I needed it for a spell! How am I supposed to help if I can’t get the stuff I need?!” 

“You’ll just have to be smarter about getting it, won’t you?” purred Scorch softly. Now that was an interesting concept. Fogpaw sat up a little, ears forward. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“If you really want something, there are smarter ways to get ahold of it,” said Scorchplume. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” She swiped her tongue over her whiskers secretively. 

“But I did,” she said and Scorchplume sighed a little. 

“It’s a euphemism,” explained her mentor and when Fogpaw frowned in confusion, she added, “a saying with hidden meaning. It means that you can’t tell anyone that I told you, it’s a secret.” 

“Oh!” Fogpaw brightened. “Like a code! That’s so cool.” 

Scorchplume chuckled, brows lifting, and said, “If you say so. Just think about what I said. You’re excused for the afternoon, I’ll grab you for a hunt after the sun reaches the mountains.” 

“Okay,” Fogpaw smiled and flopped back down into the grass. She let herself enjoy the cool shade for a moment but, soon enough, her mind started to turn over Scorchplume’s newest advice. You’ll just have to be smarter about getting it, won’t you? What did that mean? Okay, maybe there was a better way to get some catmint than just walking in and taking some. Maybe she could wait for Sagetooth to leave and then go in?

“Hey!” Lakekit purred, flopping down beside Fogpaw, “Whatcha doin?” 

“Trying to be smarter,” Fogpaw said. 

“Ooh,” Lakekit nodded. “That’s hard. Can I help?” 

“Maybe?” Fogpaw said, unsure. “I need to get some catmint to make Mystique feel better but Sagetooth won’t let me have any. I gotta figure out how to get some.” 

“Hmm,” frowned Lakekit, pressing a paw against her puckered lips. “Maybe we could make a distraction.” 

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Fogpaw nodded. 

“Gee, thanks,” Lakekit blushed proudly. “Back in the city, my mother and I used to do distractions all the time. I’d go sit all cute and call to the Folk and then she would sneak around the back and grab the food out of their carriers!” The kit giggled to herself at the memory. “Then we’d run away! It was lots of fun. I wonder if we could distract Sagetooth the same way.” 

“Hm,” Fogpaw chewed her lip. “She’d be pretty mad if she found out. Maybe we should try not to run away at the end.” 

“Okay!” chirped Lakekit brightly. “Whatever you say, Fogpaw!” 

Fogpaw laughed and sprang at Lakekit with her front paws wide, overcome with the urge to wrestle. Lakekit shrieked in delight and reared up on her hind paws. They tussled for a few seconds before they flopped back down into the grass, laughing. 

“Okay, okay,” Fogpaw said, trying to focus again. “What would Sagetooth get distracted by…?” 

“What if there was a fire?” asked Lakekit. “Or a big bird?” 

“Hmm, I don’t think we could fake those,” Fogpaw said, “and she’d get suspicious when she didn’t see them.” 

“Oh, true,” nodded Lakekit. 

“What if you pretended to be sick?” Fogpaw asked. “That could work!” 

“Good idea!” purred Lakekit. “What kind of sick should I be?”

Fogpaw thought for a good moment, tail tip twitching, before declaring, “Probably a stomach ache. People get stomach aches from bad food sometimes.” 

“Okay,” nodded Lakekit. “Should I go be sick now?” 

“Um, wait a little,” said Fogpaw. “We’ll rest first.” 

“Okay,” purred Lakekit, nuzzling closer to her. Fogpaw sighed contentedly and curled her head around behind Lakekit’s shoulders to rest it on her side. She could take a little nap before her special mission, right? 

The nap went longer than she’d expected and by the time Fogpaw woke up it was almost time for her to go hunting with Scorchplume. She snapped up, suddenly alert, and looked around. 

“Huh?” Lakekit sat up blearily, “Whassat?” 

On the other side of camp, there was a bit of commotion which Fogpaw realized had woken her. Russetfrond was sitting near the elders’ den where Oddstripe was coaxing a wobbly Bluekit and Yellowkit out into the grass. The two little kits stumbled and bobbed with every step, mewling pathetically as they explored. Russetfrond was smiling, which Fogpaw thought was weird for him, and trying to get the kits attention so they would crawl over to him. 

“Hey, there,” he said in a soft little baby voice. “Over here. Yeah, that’s it!” 

“You’re doing such a good job,” Oddstripe told the kittens, then adjusted Yellowkit’s course with a gentle paw. 

“Awww!” said Lakekit. “Look at the babies!” 

Fogpaw gasped quietly. “Now! We have to do the distraction now!” 

“Really?” Lakekit frowned a little. 

“Yeah, ‘cause Oddstripe’s already busy!” Fogpaw jumped to her feet. “You stay here, I’ll go tell Sagetooth you’re sick!” 

“Oh, okay,” Lakekit said, shuffling her paws. Fogpaw sprinted off to the healers’ den and poked her head inside. Sagetooth was lying in her nest breathing deliberately slow and even. As Fogpaw skidded in, she opened one eye and scowled darkly.

“You’d better not be here to try and steal from me again,” she growled. 

“Uh, no, I’m not,” Fogpaw said, suddenly feeling queasy with nerves. “It’s- uh, it’s Lakekit. She’s feeling sick.” 

“Mm. Go ask Oddstripe.” 

“He’s helping with the little babies right now,” she said. Please, please, please, she thought, please go check on Lakekit! There was a long pause where Sagetooth glared at her with a twitching tail. Then, the old healer sighed and heaved herself to her feet. 

“Alright, where is she?” asked Sagetooth.

“In the shade over there,” said Fogpaw, moving to the edge of the den to point with her muzzle. Sagetooth padded up beside her, sighed, and then headed over to where Lakekit was lying curled up in a ball. Fogpaw stood and watched for a moment before she crept backwards into the healers’ den and scurried to the herb stores in the back. She let her nose guide her to the heady smell of catmint and reared up on her hind legs to take some of the dried leaves in her jaws. 

Heart soaring in victory, she slank back to the edge of the den and peered out across the clearing. Sagetooth was hunched over Lakekit still, grumbling to her while Lakekit groaned softly. Fogpaw grinned, proud of her amazing accomplice. She darted out of the den and up the hill into the tall grass where she was hidden. Dropping into a careful crouch, she crept softly around the top of the ridge until she was standing on top of the elders’ den where she had buried the fish bones in a large circle. 

She reluctantly set down the sprig of catmint and began to crush it in her paws until it was nothing but a crumbly pile of aromatic dust. She let out a small, unintentional purr at the smell of it and nearly dropped down to roll around in the pile but she managed to resist the temptation. She was doing this for Mystique! It would all be for nothing if she failed to actually cast the spell. 

Taking a deep, slow breath, she closed her eyes and focused her intention. She felt the darkness of her closed eyes ripple and deepen, like a wave of darker blackness falling over her face. She focused on her breathing and the sounds around her until she felt like she was one with the swaying grass and the warm, packed, earth beneath her paws. Then, she pictured her desire; Mystique, smiling and happy. She imagined physical burdens on Mystique’s back, then imagined them being lifted by a set of large, starry jaws. Make things easier for her, she asked, opening her heart completely to the magic. 

Once she had sat with that thought for a few seconds, she opened her eyes and used her paws to start spreading the catmint throughout the circle of fishbones. She tried to spread it evenly in sufficiently magical patterns. When she couldn’t see the crumbles in the dirt anymore, she nodded to herself, satisfied with her work. Then, she crept back around through the grass to find a less suspicious spot to enter camp. She paused at the edge to try and make herself look normal, whatever expression would say ‘I didn’t just steal your catmint’, when suddenly a cat chattered softly beside her.

She jumped, barely restraining herself from screaming in surprise. Scorchplume was crouched right behind her, eyes glittering with interest. 

“Are you going back out there?” asked her mentor.

“Uh, y-yeah,” said Fogpaw, unsure what was about to happen. 

“With the smell of catmint all over your paws?” 

“Oh, foxdung,” Fogpaw cussed and quickly started licking at her paws to get the smell off. Scorchplume laughed. 

“It’s not gonna come off just like that,” she said. “Let’s go hunting early and wash them in the river, hm?” 

“That’s so smart,” Fogpaw beamed in admiration. Her mentor really was the best, most smartest cat that had ever lived. Scorch turned with a beckoning jerk of her head and led her off into the grass towards the river. Fogpaw bounced after her, purring to herself. 

“How did you know what I was doing?” she asked after a while. 

“I started watching you the second you went to fetch Sagetooth,” said Scorchplume with a casually satisfied tone. 

“Really? Why?” asked Fogpaw. She hadn’t even realized. 

“I wanted to see what you really wanted the catmint for.”

“I told you I wanted to use it for a spell,” said Fogpaw. 

“I know,” said Scorchplume, “but cats don’t always do what they say they will.” She cast a narrow eyed glance back at Fogpaw and Fogpaw couldn’t help but feel like there was a meaning in the expression that she couldn’t understand. 

“But I’m not gonna lie to you,” she said with a puzzled frown. 

“Why not?” asked Scorchplume. “I could get you in trouble.” 

“But you’re not going to,” said Fogpaw. 

Scorch tilted her head up to look down on Fogpaw mysteriously. “How do you know that for sure? I could change my mind. I could decide to hurt you.” Fogpaw frowned. Why would Scorchplume say that? It made her throat feel tight and too tense to swallow easily. She pursed her lips and straightened her posture instead of shrinking into her shoulders. 

“But you wouldn’t,” she said. 

“You don’t know that,” said Scorchplume. 

Fogpaw frowned, starting to get irritated. “Yes I do. You’ve only ever been nice to me.” 

“I could just be trying to get close to you,” Scorch shrugged. “Setting up an advantage.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Fogpaw growled. “You wouldn’t get anything from me, I’m just an apprentice. Stop being stupid.” Scorchplume faltered, shock shattering her mysterious expression, and Fogpaw suddenly realized that maybe she had gone too far. 

Then Scorchplume laughed, a bright and ungraceful laugh that wasn’t at all like her usual chuckle. 

“Right,” she said, “My bad.” She smiled and continued easily through the grass. Fogpaw let out a sigh of relief and bounded a few steps to keep up with her mentor, leaning in to bump her head against Scorchplume’s side fondly. 

“I would never decide to hurt you either, by the way,” she said.