Winter disease continues to spread; while Weedfoot recovers from whitecough, Burdockcreek catches Mosskitâs greencough.
[Image ID: Weedfoot and Burdockcreek each sit on screen. Under Weedfoot, it says - CONDITION: WHITECOUGH. Under Burdockcreek, it says + CONDITION: GREENCOUGH.]
Palepaw works with Fennelspot and Rattlepelt to negotiate herb-gathering disputes with AshClan. The meeting goes better than expected, and Palepaw has a plan to handle the issue for good.
[Image ID: Palepaw and Fennelspot face Newtstream, a single-striped ginger molly with a lavender accessory. Rattlepelt talks to Shellstripe in the back. Newtstream says âWe just need a little rosemary.â]
---
Palepaw knew she couldnât handle the meeting with AshClan without Rattlepelt and Fennelspot backing her up. Their strong presences gave her the courage she needed to keep her head high as she spoke with AshClanâs representatives.
Since the issue involved using trees near the border for medicinal purposes, Newtstream, AshClanâs cleric, was there. She was a bright ginger molly that reminded Palepaw of sun-dappled amber or rich honey. Shellstripe spoke with Rattlepelt to the side, but Rattlepelt constantly glanced Palepawâs way, ready to help her apprentice if need be.
âI can understand your position,â Palepaw said, using words that felt too big in her mouth. âRippleClanâs ocean access makes it easier for us to get important resources. I donât see why we canât allow AshClan to harvest some of the trees in our territory, at least until spring.â
âYouâre very kind, Palepaw,â Newtstream purred, bowing to the young mediator. âAshClan relies heavily on bark for our medicine in the winter moons.â
âJust donât over harvest,â Fennelspot warned. âWe donât have many willows by our share of the river to start.â
âDespite what you may think, I do care about RippleClanâs health,â Newtstream huffed. âOur caretakers will be careful.â Palepaw cocked her head slightly, glancing at Fennelspot, but the cleric was silent.
âWell, we can have our caretakers meet you by the river and escort you in collecting willow bark,â Palepaw continued. âWould you meet them tomorrow at sunrise?â
âPerfect,â Newtstream purred with a casual flick of her tail. âI just have one more request for you. May I have some of your rosemary?â
âRosemary?â Fennelspot muttered. âI have a dry sprig or two left. Is this medicinal or spiritual?â
âItâs important,â Newtstream sighed. The twitch of her whiskers was more than enough to make Palepaw not want to question her. âWould you be willing to bring the rosemary to the meeting tomorrow morning?â
âI suppose so,â Fennelspot said. âIâm not using it, so thereâs no reason to keep it.â
âWonderful,â Newtstream said with another bow. âIf thatâs all, Iâll collect Shellstripe and return home. StarClan protect you both.â Newtstream walked over to Shellstripe, who was laughing with Rattlepelt. Fennelspot winced as Newtstream turned away.
âDo you not like her?â Palepaw whispered. Fennelspot tensed, as though unsure if he should answer.
âWhen StarClan decreed we would be a Clan,â Fennelspot explained quietly, âthey gave the message to all the clerics. But when Newtstream and her mentor Darkkick returned home, she said she had seen no such vision. She supported Autumnstar, and Darkkick was exiled.â
âWhy would she lie?â Palepaw gulped as Newtstream and Shellstripe returned to AshClan.
âI never understood it,â Fennelspot sighed. âIf you have to talk to her again, keep your guard up. I donât trust her.â
âIf you donât trust her, why are you giving her rosemary?â Palepaw wondered.
âBecause what sort of cleric would I be if I said no?â Fennelspot said.
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Both RippleClan and AshClan tire of the war, wishing for it to end.
[Image ID: Rabbitjoy and Weedfoot sit to the right and face Eelgrowl and Shellstripe, a golden tabby. Eelgrowl says âI donât expect you to understand, but Autumnstar and I are doing what we think is right.â]
âI donât like this, Rabbitjoy,â Weedfoot muttered as Rabbitjoy led her toward the AshClan border. Since the Gathering had only occurred the day before, the moon was almost full and shone through thin clouds high above. Longest Night was still half a moon off, but lately, whenever Weedfoot left camp, the sun was gone or on its way out. There had yet to be any snowfall, leaving the duo to avoid twigs and leaves as they got closer to the deeper stretches of forest.
âIâm not happy about it either, Weedy,â Rabbitjoy admitted, glancing over her shoulder. âI wanted to spend my Gathering with my family in WheatClan, not hashing out secret meetings with AshClan mediators.â
âI wouldnât put it past them to trick me into their claws,â Weedfoot sighed. âI donât know why else they would ask me to come with you.â
âIâm trying to have an open mind,â Rabbitjoy gulped. âA new name means a new mindset and all that.â Rabbitjoy nearly crossed the freshly marked border before she caught herself and stepped back. The AshClan border was back to its old spot from moons prior, but the scent of both Clans was thicker than ever before. There was already two cats waiting for them on the other side. Shellstripe, a wirey golden mediator with a white-dipped face, stood with shifting paws beside a scratched tree. An oh-so-familiar tom with burnt paws stood tall beside him.
âRabbitjoy, get back,â Weedfoot growled. She stood in front of her long-lost friend and stared at Eelgrowl with all the burning hate she wished she could show at Gatherings.
âWhy would I ask for you if all I wanted to do was hurt you?â Eelgrowl huffed.
âWhy would you want to talk to me at all?â Weedfoot snapped.
âHe wasnât trying to kill Paleshade, Weedfoot,â Shellstripe stammered, inching close to the border. âHe didnât mean for her to die. We couldnât disobey Autumnstar.â Rabbitjoyâs tail slunk between her legs.
âWe arenât here to talk about that, Shellstripe,â Eelgrowl sighed, resting his tail on Shellstripeâs back. âWeedfoot doesnât want to hear it, anyway.â
âIs Autumnstar waiting behind the bushes?â Weedfoot scoffed, peering through the shadows.
âBut youâve always been loyal to him,â Rabbitjoy said, peering around Weedfoot. âYou were loyal enough to let your Clanmates die. What changed?â
âStarClan did,â Eelgrowl sighed. He sat across from Weedfoot, his narrow face turned to the clouded sky. âI donât expect you to understand, but Autumnstar and I are doing what we think is right. Autumnstar may not believe the other clerics, but I do. They wouldnât all lie to us. StarClan has accepted you. Now that your leaderâs had the bright idea to declare war, Autumnstar sees RippleClan as a bunch of rogues. Heâs taken to calling Downstar by her old name. I wonât see him be damned by the stars for trying to honor them.â There was a weight to Eelgrowlâs tone that reminded Weedfoot of her younger days, when Eelgrowl had nursery duty, when he let the smallest kits play with his pink paws as he explained how dangerous fire could be. Weedfoot stayed half-pressed into Rabbitjoy but pulled her tail over her paws.
âWhat do you want, then?â Weedfoot said.
âAutumnstar backed down before thanks to pressure from the other Clans,â Eelgrowl explained. âItâs why he didnât want you to have unfettered access to SlugClan and LynxClan. If you can speak to Gougestar, he could convince Autumnstar to give you the respect youâre owed. Sanderlingstar and Mistlestar want nothing to do with this, but Gorgestar is close to Downstar, isnât he? He might help.âÂ
Weedfoot wouldnât say it aloud, but it was a solid plan. But who would deliver the message, and when? How? WheatClan didnât want to face AshClanâs wrath by letting RippleClan stroll through their land. If Autumnstar saw them as rogues, what would he do if he saw one of their ranks sneaking toward SlugClan?
âAutumnstar would be furious if he knew you said this,â Weedfoot said softly.
âIâm hoping, when this is over, that I can truly talk to Autumnstar about the future,â Eelgrowl sighed. âI canât do that until heâs willing to listen. Take my advice or donât. Itâs your pelts thatâll get torn up.â Eelgrowl nudged Shellstripe and the pair turned back home. Rabbitjoy fidgeted as they crossed through the bushes. She licked her lips, pulling into herself.
âThank you!â she suddenly called just as the tip of Shellstripeâs tail slithered out of sight. She squirmed as though she ate a worm.Â
âWhat do you think, Rabbit?â Weedfoot sighed, still watching the bushes. âShould we bring this up with Downstar?â
âIf itâll make Autumnstar listen?â Rabbitjoy gulped. She straightened out, took a deep breath, and said, âWe have to.â
(Weedfoot: 66, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)
[Image ID: Locustpaw faces Burdockcreek. Locustpaw says, ââHey, have I let you down before? I can handle this.â Burdockcreek replies, âI canât let you take all the credit.â Under him, it says LEVEL UP! CONFIDENT -> COMPETITIVE.]
---
âNo,â Rustshade snapped from the depths of Downstarâs den. âWe arenât sending anyone out there, especially not alone!â
âTheyâre less likely to get caught if they go alone,â Downstar sighed. Locustpaw could hear Downstar sag as she said that from their spot between the Shiprock and the shipwreck itself. Most of RippleClan was still getting out of their nests, but Locustpaw got up early, ready for Weedfoot to give them a new task. Yet when they got up, Weedfoot was in Downstarâs den. According to Scrubmask, who had been on guard duty, she had been there since she got back earlier that night. Why wouldnât Locustpaw listen in? With AshClan on their tails, everything that went on in Downstarâs den was sure to be important. They had to preserve it for future generations. Yes, that was it.
âBut if they are caught, theyâll be at AshClanâs mercy!â Rustshade groaned. âSend Scrubmask! Sheâs faster.â
âAnd bigger,â Weedfoot huffed. âRustshade, Iâm sorry, but this isnât a discussion. We brought you in here because we thought you deserved to know first.â
âWhy them?â Rustshade moaned.
âLocustpaw, why are you back there?â Locustpaw peeked around the Shiprock. Burdockcreek stared back at them in plain view of Downstarâs den.
âTheyâre planning something,â Locustpaw whispered, cocking their ears toward the den. âI think itâs a mission through AshClan territory!â Burdockcreek leaned closer, but his pupils suddenly narrowed.
âTheyâre coming out!â Burdockcreek hissed, scampering back. Locustpaw backed out of the hidey-hole, emerging on the other side of the Shiprock. A moment later, Weedfoot wandered past, focused on the apprenticeâs den. She saw Locustpaw in the corner of her eye and stopped.
âLocustpaw, just who I was looking for,â Weedfoot sighed as Downstar and Rustshade appeared beside her. âWe have something important to ask of you.âÂ
âIâll do it, whatever it is,â Locustpaw chirped as Burdockcreek listened in.
âWe need someone to visit SlugClan,â Downstar explained, getting closer and locking eyes with Locustpaw. âYou need to speak to Gorgestar and convince him to pressure Autumnstar into submitting to our demands.â
âIt wonât be easy,â Weedfoot added. âAshClan will attack you if they see you. Youâre lithe, and smaller than your littermates. We think you have the best chance of getting in and out.â
âNot that Iâm not willing,â Locustpaw groaned, âbecause I am, but why not have Fennelspot pass on the news at the clericâs meeting?â
âWe need an immediate response,â Downstar huffed. âNewtstream attends those meetings, as well. Heâll overhear the news and report back to Autumnstar. Heâs more loyal to Autumnstar than StarClanâs wishes.â
âNo heroics,â Rustshade grunted, nudging Downstar aside. âThis isnât a battle patrol. Youâre just to speak to Gorgestar.â
âI understand, Dad,â Locustpaw said, nodding. âI can go right now. They wonât see me.â
âWait until sunhigh,â Weedfoot said. âIâll have Graypaw start the oven and cook some prey. Youâll do better with food in your belly.â She groomed Locustpawâs neck and added, âI believe in you, Locustpaw.â She touched Locustpawâs nose and headed for the apprenticeâs den. Downstar entered the medicine den and left Rustshade to stare at his child. Locustpaw wasnât sure what to say, but thankfully, Rustshade broke away for the warriorâs den. Now it was just Locustpaw and Burdockcreek.
âI wish I was going,â Burdockcreek grumbled, sitting beside Locustpaw. âIâm the historian here. Why send an apprentice?â
âI wonât be an apprentice after this,â Locustpaw laughed, kicking their brother. Burdockcreek chuckled, but there was a strain in his face that made Locustpaw pause. They nudged Burdockcreek and added, âHey, have I let you down before? I can handle this.â
âI canât let you take all the credit,â Burdockcreek sighed, partially chuckling. âI might have to tell future generations I came along.â
âAnd I can tell them that youâre a big fat liar,â Locustpaw said, sticking out their tongue.Â
(Rustshade: 62, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)
(Downstar: 77, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Locustpaw: 12, nonbinary (they/them), historian apprentice, moss-ball hunter)
(Weedfoot: 66, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)
(Burdockcreek: 12, male, historian, competitive, learner of lore)
Locustpaw sacrificed themself by taking on the role of a messenger, delivering important information that could save the clan. They were killed while investigating enemy territory.
[Image ID: Locustpaw faces Autumnstar down. Locustpaw growls, âHeh⊠hope youâre proud of yourself. Iâm coming back to haunt you.â To which Autumnstar huffs, âIâd love to see it, rogue.â]
---
Fennelspot remembered Rustshade telling him how sturdy Rabbitjoyâs baskets were, but now that he got to carry his collection of juniper berries back to camp in one of the most well-woven baskets heâd ever held, he knew heâd have to thank the long-lost artisan for her hard work. He could hold it in his jaws and let it bounce on his chest without chafing or scratching. It was wonderful! The sweet smell of the juniper berries carried him through the trees and lifted his heart for the last stretch back to camp. The ground wasnât cold enough for the new snowfall to stick quite yet, but Fennelspot was certain the territories would be pure white when he woke up the next morning.
âHow are we supposed to bury you?â someone whined. Fennelspot pricked his ears. Was that Oilstripe? He carefully set his basket down. Snowflakes landed on the juniper berries and the tips of Fennelspotâs whiskers.
âNo, because how else will Dad know youâre dead?â Oilstripe yowled. Fennelspot stalked toward his Clanmate, his basket forgotten. He hopped over the remnants of a dead fern and clung to the side of a pine. Oilstripe was a few tail-lengths ahead of the cleric, staring into the trees. The fur along her back arched and her droopy tail thrashed about.
âYouâre supposed to be back any moment now,â Oilstripe growled. âWhat am I supposed to tell everyone?â Her tone was not that of malice, but of fear and a deep insecurity, the sort of voice Fennelspot all-too-often heard in his head. He realized she wasnât staring into the trees, but rather to an empty spot just in front of her.
âDownstar thinks Iâm crazy,â Oilstripe whined, her whole body sagging. âEveryoneâs seen me talking to myself. Fennelspot wonât believe me. Heâll say Iâve lost my mind, that Iâm seeing things. So tell me how Iâm supposed to tell them about you, Locustpaw!â A gasp escaped Fennelspotâs mouth before he could stop himself. Oilstripeâs head whipped around. The fear plastered over her eyes made Fennelspot tremble. It only lasted a moment, as she turned back to the empty space with curled lips and a voice that commanded more pity than fear.
âShow him youâre here!â Oilstripe begged. âWe both heard the stories, you can do that! Please! I need to know Iâm not crazy!â Fennelspot slowly approached Oilstripe like a hunter would approach a skittish rabbit.
âOilstripeâŠâ Fennelspot gulped.
âBut you do have something to tell him!â Oilstripe cried. âYou have to tell him you died! Dad canât wait for the half-moon meeting! He needs to know, and I canât tell him!â She stomped her paws like an angry kit.
âOilstripe, do you see Locustpaw standing next to you?â Fennelspot asked softly. âCan you look at me?â Oilstripe growled and squeezed her eyes tight.
âI canât carry two conversations at once!â she snapped.Â
Before she finished speaking, Fennelspotâs ears began to ring. He rubbed his ears to clear the tinnitus, but the sound grew louder. It didnât sound like typical tinnitus. In fact, Oilstripe seemed bothered too; she rubbed her ears just like Fennelspot did. The sound grew louder and developed new layers. It wasnât just a humming noise. It was a fast, high-pitched chirping sound. It was thousands of those sounds, thumping and vibrating together. It was a chorus of a thousandâ
âLocusts,â Fennelspot gasped.
âI guess she wasnât crazy after all,â a disembodied voice whispered, the sound mixed with the chirping of the unseen locusts. With that, the sound faded as quickly as it arrived. Oilstripe was out of breath, glancing between Fennelspot and the empty space he no longer believed was actually empty.
âYou heard that?â Oilstripe asked. âPlease say you did.â
âYou can speak to StarClan?â Fennelspot whispered. He sat before he realized he needed to and stared at where he could only assume Locustpawâs spirit lingered.
[Image ID: Fennelspot and Oilstripe face each other. Fennelspot says âYou arenât a cleric. How can you see StarClan wherever they wander, while I barely see them over the course of the year?â]
âI see them when they visit, even if they donât want me to,â Oilstripe gulped. She slowly approached Fennelspot and sat across from him. âIâve seen them since Twinekit died.â
âYou arenât a cleric,â Fennelspot stammered, suddenly conscious of how his posture slumped and his claws plucked at the dead grass. âHow can you see StarClan wherever they wander, while I barely see them over the course of the year?â
âI didnât ask to see them,â Oilstripe huffed, âit just happened. Why do you think I asked you to teach me how StarClan works?â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â Fennelspot whined.
âWould you have believed me?â Oilstripe snapped with a thrash of her tail. âI tried telling Downstar that Duskkit was sorry for being troublesome in life, but she got mad at me. I didnât want to repeat that. I donât want to be a cleric. I would hate mixing medicine all day.â
âYou donât have to be a cleric,â Fennelspot insisted. He suddenly remembered just why he grew so startled in the first place and he held his breath. âYou were talking to Locustpaw. Does that meanâŠâ
âAutumnstarâs patrol found them,â Oilstripe muttered, staring at the space beside the two ginger cats. âThey spoke to Gorgestar and were coming home. Their body is somewhere in AshClan territory.â Fennelspot held his emotions close as he prayed to see whatever Oilstripe could see. He stared at where he thought Locustpaw stood, trying to sense the apprentice beside him.
âI can help you tell the Clan about your abilities, Oilstripe,â Fennelspot suggested. âYou can tell your father about Locustpaw.â
âI ruined it last time,â Oilstripe said, violently shaking her head. âIâm no conduit. I donât share messages. Canât you say you had a vision, Fennelspot?â
âI donât receive many visions,â Fennelspot groaned, the fur on the back of his neck itching.
âThey wonât argue with you,â Oilstripe said. âTheyâll be worried when Locustpaw doesnât come back tonight. Why make them hope for something that wonât happen?â Fennelspot shrunk into himself.
âI need to collect my juniper berries,â Fennelspot muttered. âIf we canât get Locustpawâs body, we still have to host a vigil. Iâll figure out the right words to say. Come with me.â Fennelspot climbed back toward his hiding place.
âFennelspot?â Oilstripe called softly. Fennelspot turned back. Oilstripe nodded to the empty spot beside her and said, âThey said thank you.â
In order to honor the dead cat, Fennelspot and Downstar give them their historian name in StarClan; Locustseeker.
[Image ID: Locustseeker stands as a StarClan cat. Under them, it says LEVEL UP! LOCUSTPAW -> LOCUSTSEEKER.]
(Locustseeker: 12, nonbinary (they/them), historian apprentice, troublesome, moss-ball hunter)
Downstar gives Clampaw her full name of Clammask, honoring her as a caretaker of RippleClan.
[Image ID: Clammask stands in the middle of the screen. Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! CLAMPAW -> CLAMMASK, LONESOME -> RIGHTEOUS, INTERESTED IN CLAN HISTORY -> LORE KEEPER, + NEW TRAIT: GOOD TEACHER.]
(Clammask: 12, female, caretaker, righteous, lore keeper, good teacher)
Carnationspeckle, Shadowpaw, and Parsley all have whitecough.
[Image ID: Carnationspeckle, Shadowpaw, and Parsley stand in a row. Under each, it says + CONDITION: WHITECOUGH. Under Shadowpaw, it also reads - CONDITION: SORE.]
(Shadowpaw: 10, male, codekeeper apprentice, adventurous, confident with words)
(Parsley: 112, female, warrior, righteous, good speaker)
Parsley finds the way Rabbitjoy acts increasingly uncomfortable.
[Image ID: Applepelt and Parsley watch Rabbitjoy from the side as Rabbitjoy says âWeâre fine! Weâre all going to be fine!â Applepelt says, âI donât think sheâs fineâŠâ Under Applepelt, it says - CONDITION: CAT BITE.]
(Parsley: 112, female, warrior, righteous, good speaker)