#strelles osierstream

Now that Viperclaw had been chased off and the Fenns were beginning to rebuild their barracks, there was now the matter of what to do about the moor and the continued absence of the Galespun. Quietpaw deserved to have her family back if at all possible - it wasn’t fair that the Fenns would rebuild, recover and return to their former (alleged) nobility but the Gales remained lost to them.

He chanced a glance at the molly in question, kneading the ground impatiently beside Speckledholly as she waited for their Storm to give the call for them to leave.

“Stormborn,” she finally called out, striding through the throng of cats. “Let’s go!”

Cardinalfire nearly darted past her with excitement, just barely restraining himself to falling into step in the front line between Callastorm and Speckledholly; his paws falling in time with Quietpaw. He was briefly distracted by the cautious way she moved through the forest - with far more confidence than she first started out - but with still too much leg and her not dense enough fur to move comfortably. 

He wondered if this was what he looked like traversing the forest - adapting just enough of the Stormborn’s tools and tricks of life to his own body to be more comfortable. Although, he was sure he felt far more at ease under the safe canopy of the storm-forest than Quietpaw, used to the open spaces and sparse tall-vegetation of the moorland.

It didn’t take long for the Kirkyard to come into view, the four massive trees in their circle swaying gently in the wind with several cats milling around beneath their branches. He would’ve chuckled if he had the breath for it - Asterdawn seemed to have mastered calling them to arrive just after the other factions without being late enough to be considered rude.

He watched her cast a glance over her party before turning back to the ridge. Cardinalfire almost expected her to pause but it seemed she’d been checking to make sure everyone could still breath, and when she was sure, she led them down the hill with Callastorm at her side.

Cardinalfire glanced around, curiously taking in the sight of the Shores and the Fenns mingling with each other. There were a couple of cadet races, some legionaries circling each other in preparation for a spar and a few veterans tangled together, likely telling battle stories. Though the Galespun’s poignant absence still left a massive gaping hole in the warmth of the meeting but the oppressive energy that Viperclaw had carried with him had finally lessened. It felt more like the first set of games he’d attended as a fresh cadet, rather than the ones just before his promotion.

“Feels good to be here as a proper legionary.”

Cardinalfire turned his head to watch Jackdawstripe fall into step beside him, with Quietpaw at his flank. That didn’t surprise him - Quietpaw had always gravitated towards him from the beginning, maybe because he was an obvious not-Stormborn cat too.

He nodded his agreement all the same, “Yeah, it’s nice. In a way.”

Jackdawstripe adopted a wry expression, “I know what you mean. The Fenns are starting to look strong again but the Gales are still…”

“Yeah,” Cardinalfire sighed. He’d noticed too - despite only half-a-moon’s time having passed, the bedraggled and starved forms with visible ribs were slowly beginning to be replaced by properly groomed fur. They were still covered in obvious scars, not a single cat of theirs present without at least torn ears and a clawed cheek but now they moved with confidence in their steps, their eyes bright and clear with raised, flicking tails.

It was nice to see after how badly they’d looked the last time Cardinalfire had been around them, but it was a bittersweet sight. 

“... you can still see who the cadets are but it's harder now,” Quietpaw murmured, drawing their attention. “They still have nursery-fluff and their paws are huge but… they’re all a lot bigger now.”

“The veterans say this was how it was always supposed to be.”

They all jumped a little, turning to a familiar long furred, dark gray tom with happy yellow eyes. More notably was the slightly nervous form of a young brown tom trailing after him.

“It’s me,” he said brightly. “Wetpaw! Wetjaw now, I got promoted after the battle. So did Littlepaw, he’s Littlespore now.”

“Congratulations,” said Cardinalfire, watching Quietpaw take a cautious step back but she didn’t cringe this time. “So were we - I’m Cardinalfire now, and that’s Jackdawstripe.”

“Stripe huh?” Wetjaw remarked, he shook his head sounding amused. “Figures - you’re the most Storm cat I’ve ever met.”

“So is that your cadet?” Jackdawstripe asked, dipping down to sniff the little tom curiously. 

“Yup!” said Wetjaw, proudly puffing out his chest. He gave nervous cadet a little nudge forward, to put him in easier view. He reminded Cardinalfire with a pang of Ravencroon during their first few days training. “This is Oakpaw and he’ll be the fiercest legionary ever when I’m done with him!” … it is weird though. Seeing how old I was supposed to be when I started training…”

The legionary seemed a little upset for a moment before giving himself a firm shake, as if he could physically dislodge the worries of his mind.

“When you guys get cadets, you’ll have to tell me,” said Wetjaw, changing the subject back before they could comment on it. “So Oakpaw can kick their tails.”

Cardinalfire laughed as Oakpaw adopted the expression of startled squirrel at being volunteered for a spar sometime in the future.

“Our cadets will kick Oakpaw’s tail,” Jackdawstripe jested. “Good thing you’ll have a head-start, then they’ll be on the same footing.”

Wetjaw rolled his eyes playfully, finally spotting Quietpaw watching the interaction with guarded curiosity. He paused seeming to take in her distinctly non-Stormborn build for a moment.

“Hello,” he said eventually. “Are you new to the Storms? A loner?”

“Galespun,” Quietpaw responded, cooly.

Wetjaw flinched, his ears pulling back as Oakpaw immediately darted behind his drillmaster.

“Oh.. um…” he looked between them with visible discomfort, drawing circles in the sand with the tip of her paw. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and looked back up at her, “I’m… sorry for what my faction did to yours. Even if Viperclaw was our leader… it was… wrong of us to do that.”

Quietpaw watched him, seeming to evaluate the sincerity of his apology. 

“...it wasn’t okay,” Quietpaw said finally, her long tail swishing slowly. “But it wasn’t your fault either. You were just a cadet - a way too young cadet.”

“...yeah,” Wetjaw agreed, seeming relieved. “I guess I was.”

“Well… “ Jackdawstripe coughed, breaking the the tension with an awkward smile. He glanced towards Cardinalfire, flicking his tail towards a group of cats all gathered together in various pairs seemingly waiting for something. “You were talking about doing a legionary’s spar, right? Well, that one looks ready to start.”

“We’ll cheer you on,” Wetjaw called after him as Cardinalfire bid a hasty thanks and darted over to the cat who seemed to be in charge of it all. He vaguely recognized the muscular Shorerisen tom as Loudbelly from a previous Gathering.

The large brown tom gestured over to a lone, silvery-blue furred molly who seemed to be waiting for an opponent of her own, “Over there.”

Cardinalfire gave him a quick nod of thanks and trotted eagerly over to the clearing, standing across from the imposing molly who offered him a light smirk. He could hardly stand still with anticipation running through his nerves, the sight of Jackdawstripe, Wetjaw and Quietpaw all sitting to the side ready to watch his first battle as a full legionary of the Stormborn. Stars, be was nervous - he didn’t want to embarrass Asterdawn after she’d put so much time into training him and he just knew Jackdawstripe was over there talking him up from the way he was whispering to the cats beside him. 

He sized up his opponent as best as he could - as he was wearily beginning to accept was standard, the blue furred molly was far larger than he was. Her ears were small and round - with this being a claws sheathed spar, there was no point in targeting them.  Her paws were small and round too - probably a Shorecat who was used to using her paws in quick, decisive manners.

Prioritize speed then, Cardinalfire thought determinedly.

“Ready?” Loudbelly prompted the entire group, looking among the various cats tensing up for their spars. “Begin!”

Cardinalfire immediately jumped to the right as the molly before him hardly waited a second after the call to lunge for his. She seemed to have expected his dodge though, lashing out as quickly as thought and caught his paws. He yelped, slamming face-first into the ground as she tricked him. He groaned a little but reacted quickly, lashing out and striking her muzzle when she went in for a nip. She yelped while he took the moment to scramble back to his paws, trying to summon everything he remembered from ‘sparring’ with Asterdawn.

The molly recovered quickly from his light swat, darting forth, seemingly aiming for his shoulders. Cardinalfire quickly sprung out of the way of the attack, allowing her to crash heavily into the ground and promptly pounced on her. It was a bold move to try a pin with his smaller size but he’d learned how to deal with that too, digging his paw into her throat in such a way that if she tried to wiggle, it would just make the pressure worse.

She squirmed a bit, putting his move to the rest only to wince and release a faint wheeze. A moment later, her tail gave a firm thump.

“Winner uh-” 

“Cardinalfire.”

“Winner, Cardinalfire!”

He immediately burst into a purr of triumph immediately stepping off of the molly under impressed eyes of Loudbelly before the tom turned to watch the few remaining spars that hadn’t ended yet. He received a few nods of approval from those watching while the molly shook her head, taking in a deep breath.

“Nice trick there kit,” the molly wheezed, chuckling a little. “You hit like a stag.”

“I’m glad I worked it out - everyone is so much bigger than me,” Cardinalfire admitted, earning a few laughs of agreement from those in earshot. “You were so fast - every time I turned around, you were in my face again.”

The molly laughed, “Yeah I still got it. You’re young but in time, you’ll be just as fast. You joining in for another round?”

“No, I just wanted to test my paws,” Cardinalfire reassured. “My nose is bruised enough. Thank you for the match!”

The molly chuckled as he turned to leave, “May the Souls light your path, Cardinalfire!”

He bounded towards his friends immediately, weaving through the cats walking by to Jackdawstripe and Quietpaw. It seemed that Wetjaw had left not long after he’d defeated his opponent given Cardinalfire had seen him cheer for his win but his friends had been joined by another familiar, silvery coat.

“Hey Osierpaw!” he called out. “Did you see my spar?”

“Osierstream now,” the molly purred, lifting her head with smug pride. “And I only caught the end - you were pretty great out there though!”

“Thanks!” Cardinalfire said, flicking his tail. “How’d you get your name? We got ours chasing Viperclaw out.”

“Another cadet disturbed a nest of geese by the river,” the molly explained, puffing up in pride for her accomplishments. “They came swarming our diving patrol - we chased off most of them but one just kept going after the cadet. So I jumped on it and slammed its head into the river! I thought it would’ve kept attacking when it was free but I must’ve scared it good because it took off immediately.”

She flicked her ear smugly, “I had my ceremony the moment we went back to camp.”

“That’s so cool!” Jackdawstripe said enthusiastically, and Cardinalfire could see that even Quietpaw seemed impressed by the story.

“That was so brave of you,” Cardinalfire agreed. “I can’t believe you faced off against a goose!”

“I heard you went fang to fang with Viperclaw himself,” Osierstream pointed out.

“Give me an evil tyrant any day - geese are the real horrors upon the land.”

He took pride in the way he’d gotten even Quietpaw to chuckle quietly to herself. 

“Now that the spar’s over, what should we do now?” Wetjaw inquired. “We’re legionaries now so I don’t think we can do any of the games anymore…”

“There are legionary games but I’m not in the mood for one,” Osierstream says. “Some cats get really competitive.”

“We could go listen to a story,” Cardinalfire suggested earning a good-natured groan from his best friend.

“From the elders? On purpose?” inquired Osierstream.

“Those stories are interesting,” Quietpaw defended.

“I better step up my game or you’ll steal my place as Cardinalfire’s best friend,” Jackdawstripe laughed, offering a hearty shove that nearly knocked the thinner cadet to the ground. “Cardinalfire is a real ant-brain, always working and wanting to listen to the old stories. The elders love him.”

“Count me out,” Wetjaw said, though his whiskers were twitching with open amusement. “Oakpaw hasn’t done any of the games yet and as his drillmaster, it’s my duty to make sure that his first gathering is a success.”

Oakpaw shuffled a little, averting his eyes shyly from the newfound attention landing on him, “It’s okay… we don’t have to…”

“I saw you eying the tree-climbing races,” Wetjaw denied, taking a paw and prodding his cadet to his paws to stand beside him. He stretched himself. Extending his legs out in front of him with a low ‘mrrr’ before he straightened up again, beckoning for the younger tom to follow him. “You sat here and listened to me talk to my friends and watch Cardinalfire’s spar so we’ll do something you want to do now - bye you guys!”

“Bye Wetjaw!” Cardinalfire called after him with the others, waving his tail as the two cats were swallowed up by the shifting crowd. “He’s a good drillmaster.”

“I’ll say, Ripplepelt would’ve had me sitting there for the rest of the gathering,” Osierstream half-complained. “Alright Cardinalfire, let’s go find your stories.”

She stood up, leading the way over to a slightly shaded area where a collection of elders were gathered together. They sat close to each other, talking among each other and sharing tongues - Cardinalfire was briefly surprised to see Elkear laughing raspily alongside who he recognized as a Fennyield elder, Spidercloud. He tilted his head a little - it was good to see that the elder was capable of enjoying himself sometimes. He even seemed to be in a rarely seen ‘good mood,’ something proven when he twitched his whiskers in a friendly manner towards them.

“Jackdawstripe, Cardinalfire - what brings you youngsters over here?”

“Cardinalfire wants to hear more stories,” Jackdawstripe said dryly.

Spidercloud laughed as Elkear straighted up a little more, visibly pleased, “Your friends could learn a thing or two from you softy - Souls knows I can only wish other young legionaries were as interested in our history as you are.”

“Well the stories are interesting,” Cardinalfire said, eagerness to hear more tales making it easier to brush off the comment of ‘softy.’

“Well what do you want to hear youngster?” Spidercloud inquired, tucking her paws beneath herself as she got comfortable. 

“Do you have any about the Souls?” Cardinalfire asked. 

“Of course,” Elkear proclaimed, puffing his chest out a bit smugly. “How about a Stormborn tale, about the birth of the Treewalkers?”

“I haven’t heard that one,” Osierstream mused, settling down beside Jackdawstripe and Cardinalgfire.

“It’s not a story often told outside of the Storms since the treewalkers have faded,” Elkear explained and began the tale.

It all started with a young cadet named Copperpaw - excited, intelligent and determined to become a valorant no matter what. He put his entire heart into his training, practicing longer and harder than anyone else in his den. He was the most skillful fighter, the most alert patroller and offered advice to any other cadet who’d asked - by all accounts, he was a perfect cadet with one, glaring flaw.

Hunting.

Despite his swift and quick reflexes in battle, he could never catch a squirrel before it had sprung out fo reach. Despite his careful, gentle stalking in training, the mice always sensed his pawsteps. He was clever and intelligent but birds always seemed a feather ahead of him. For a cadet that seemed skilled beyond measure in every other area, it was frustrating both to him and his drillmaster that for some reason, he just couldn’t master the art of hunting.

“You need to be more focused,” his drillmaster would scold him day after day. “Hunting should be easy for you! You are a skilled fighter, a skilled tracker, a swift runner - I don’t understand why this is so hard for you!”

“I don’t know either,” Copperpaw would say.

It became common for the cadet to attempt to train by himself, practicing until he dropped from exhaustion in the middle of the forest. It was during one of these recovery moments, listening to the whispering of the trees and rustling of the plant-life that he was approached by a bushy-tailed red squirrel. He didn’t even make an attempt at pouncing on it, or preparing to do so - he already knew it would make its escape from beneath his claws like every other creature he’d ever tried to catch.

“Why are you so sad?” it asked.

And Copperpaw blinked but answered honestly all the same, “I’m such a poor hunter that I’ll never be a legionary. My drillmaster is shamed by inability to catch even a mouse or a sparrow - I don’t know what’s wrong with me or why I can’t hunt.”

“I can help you,” the squirrel said. “I see you climb, you are a natural. I can teach you to make tree-climbing into a hunting skill.”

“Why would you do that? I would be hunting your kin.”

“A cat hunts a squirrel and devours it. Then Slysoul comes and reaps the cat, leaving his body for Treesoul to turn to the soil, grass and seed. Then the seed is consumed by the squirrel and the cycle repeats again.”

Copperpaw accepted the squirrel’s offer that same night and began his secret training. The struggles and tribulations he often faced with hunting on the ground were rendered moot when he was in the trees, his skills and talents being used in a new way. A moon’s time came and went as he learned to race through the trees as if he were a squirrel himself and then finally, came Copperpaw’s next hunting-final. 

His drillmaster watched as his cadet searched the forest far and wide, eventually catching up with a sparrow flapping its wings in the grass. Rather than approach it directly, the cadet clambered up a nearby tree and his drillmaster watched in amazement as he stalked just above it, a stick dislodging and falling down beside the feathered creature.

With a cry of alert, the bird tried to escape into the air but Copperpaw had anticipated that, leaping into the air and catching the bird as he landed on another branch in the canopy with a triumphant trill.

“Copperpaw,” Elkear rumbled, likely imitating the voice of the leader of the Stormborn at the time, “From this day on, you shall be known as Copperbranch for the new way of hunting shown to you by Slysoul herself. May you teach others the art of treewalking - and that is how treewalkers came to the Stormborn.”

“Woah,” breathed Osierstream, sitting back from where she’d unconsciously leaned in during the story. “That’s incredible! I’ve never met a treewalker before, do they have to stay in the camp?”

“I’ve never seen any,” Jackdawstripe disagreed.

“As I said, the treewalkers have long since faded,” Elkear said sadly. “Most Storms nowadays are too heavy to run along the smaller branches and without drillmasters, cadets were getting seriously injured. After one fell and permanently damaged their own legs, the skill was declared dead and that no others were to train in it.”

“Oh,” said Osierstream, ears drooping. “That’s… sad.”

“Every faction has gained and lost ranks as their territories and the cats within them have changed,” Elkear confirmed.

“Skills come and go as a faction’s needs change,” Spdercloud explained. “Slysoul showed the Storms to treewalk because they needed it - then as they grew larger, they were able to tackle larger prey and thus, it became unnecessary. It’s said that long ago, we Fenns used to only hunt on the dry patches of territory but as the marsh spread, we lost more and more hunting territory - so Slysoul whispered to our anaconda about a new way to hunt, and birthed the rank of murkers.”

“I wonder of the Shores have lost any skills,” Osierstream pondered aloud. “I’d never considered we had other ranks… I guess I just assumed it we’ve always had the ones we do now.”

“I suppose it probably is different to hunt mice in the Fenns than in the Stormborn,” said Jackdawstripe.

“Think of all the water,” Cardinalfire agreed, paw twitching reflexively at the memory of the squishy mud between his toes. “They probably don’t have a lot of easily caught mice - but maybe water shrews on the other paw…”

“Water shrews, ducks and voles,” purred Spidercloud in agreement. “Most of us wouldn’t even know what to do with Stormborn territory anymore - the ground is too dry and the bushes are too thick.”

“And we’ve no use to land that’s always wet with no low branches,” Elkear said.

“And as a diver I wouldn’t know to do with either territory,” Osierstream said confidently. “You Fenns have water but not enough water - and there’s too much brush on Stormborn land.”

“Every faction has been sculpted to fit their territory,” Spidercloud claimed, giving a firm lash of her tail. “One of Viperclaw’s biggest mistakes was attempting to force our cats to hunt in land we’re no longer suited for. Moonsoul allowed the Gales to live on the moor and that should’ve been the end of it.”

Cardinalfire pondered on her words as he looked around the clearing at the cats surrounding him, noting the little differences, the little changes in every cat faction-to-faction. That molly he’d sparred with probably had small ears to minimize drag and her thick tail was probably for steering. Spidercloud sitting with them had long, slender legs like Quietpaw though the fur on her legs was thinner and shorter than the rest of her pelt.

His eyes were drawn to Leopardshine, the powerful Shorerisen lieutenant in possession of a thick but short, glossy coat that likely kept her warm but also helped her swim. She also had the small, sort of rounded ears that he was realizing were common-place of the Shorerisen. His eyes drifted a bit further over to the cat she was talking to, Tigerslash with his big, broad form and thick, double-layered coat that would protect his skin from the various thorns and branches that entangled their territory. 

His eyes lingered on the two cats, slightly surprised by how close they were sitting together.

Leopardshine was usually sharp-tongued and short-tempered whenever they crossed paths with her on a dawn patrol and Tigerslash was well-known for his distaste of anyone that wasn’t the Stormborn. He would’ve thought they’d be more hostile towards each other, barely restraining barbed remarks but they Leopardshine was laughing at whatever he’d said and Cardinalfire could almost make out a smirk on the burly tom’s face.

Huh.

He supposes that even selfish, murderous pricks can have friends. 

“The buckers are back,” Jackdawstripe called out, breaking him from his somewhat bitter thoughts. “And it’s a big one!”

Cardinalfire twisted around to follow his gaze and grinned in agreement - it sure wasn’t a full sized deer, but it had to be older than a yearling with its long, long legs and the beginnings of an impressive set of antlers on its head with only two tines. The buckers marched in pridefully, a mostly ginger tortoiseshell molly who Osierstream called ‘Ottersplash’ holding it by the throat while Naddertail followed at the rear, clutching the tail in her mouth while a Fennyield cat he didn’t recognize supported it from the center.

“I am going to bug mom so hard about this story,” Jackdawstripe said gleefully, watching the hunters drop their impressive catch and begin sectioning it off to share.

“That means the meeting is coming to an end,” Cardinalfire remarked, peeking up to the Great Rock and confirming two leaders were already perched on the edge.

“And I have to get back to the Shorerisen’s side of things,” Osierstream said, taking a moment to stretch the sleepy feeling from her muscles, flexing her claws before stand back up. She ran her tail over Cardinalfire’s back fondly, then nuzzled Jackdawstripe’s cheek with open affection. “I’ll see you both later - and good luck with getting cadets!”

The two toms shouted their goodbyes to her as Spidercloud rose to her paws, moving to join the rest of her faction as well while Elkear merely turned to watch the leaders as a familiar pelt leapt up onto the rock into view of the entire empire.

“Nightrattle?” Jackdawstripe gawked in surprise.

“It makes sense I guess,” said Cardinalfire said, watching as their Storm obligingly moved over and allowed the elder to settle in beside her. “He was the one who agreed to bring us in - the Fenns must’ve decided he was a decent enough leader.”

“Nettleflower is sitting with the deputies too,” remarked Jackdawstripe, purring a little when a portion of the deer was finally passed to him. Cardinalfire could see her, sitting between Callastorm and Leopardshine at the base of the Great Rock. “Maybe because she fought Viperclaw directly?”

“Maybe,” agreed Cardinalfire, leaning in to steal a bite from his friend as he tuned into the meeting as the speech ended.

“Which faction would like to speak first?”

“We,” declared Asterdawn.

“Then the Stormborn may have the moon.”

Asterdawn quickly stepped forward, claiming the pool of moonlight and turning silvery gray in turn, her muscular form only highlight by the shadows and light dancing off of her, “The Stormborn find ourselves prosperous with two new cadets in Wolfpaw and Lynxpaw!”

Cardinalfire was happy to cheer along with the rest of the crowd for the two, embarrassed but proud looking cadets and their equally pleased looking drillmasters.

“We’ve also made two new legionaries in Cardinalfire and Jackdawstripe!”

He raised his head proudly as Jackdawstripe ducked his head a bit sheepishly to their cries of congratulations - much to his delight, he even saw a few faces of approval, faces who had seen his spar with the Shorerisen molly. He’d have to make sure he participated in more spars - what a convenient way to earn respect and acknowledgement from the other factions without actually putting anyone at risk.

Asterdawn took a deep breath as the cheers died down continuing, “In less fortunate news, we’ve lost Lionbelly our lieutenant and Ravenpaw our diplomat cadet. Callastorm is now recognized as the new lieutenant of the Stormborn and though Ravenpaw did not come back to us, he ascended as Ravencroon - may they both watch us from the stars and know they are honored.”

Cardinalfire felt a pang in his chest as he watched the startled, devastated looks cross the faces of various cats among the factions. Lionbelly had been a friendly, noble and gentle giant - in the brief time he’d gotten to know him, Cardinalfire had come to see the tom as something of an older-brother, a viewpoint he was aware that many cats throughout the factions had agreed with. He’d been popular, teasing and wrestling with the cadets  and a good sport if he’d ever lost a spar with the other lieutenants. 

As for Ravencroon, it hadn’t taken Cardinalfire long to realize that diplomat cadets were rare. It wasn’t common for young cubs to aspire to become a diplomat, comfortable or at least willing to learn to be comfortable with talking to cats from other factions or even non-cats. More over, they had to have a certain disposition or at least lack a few key-traits to keep them from making a situation worse than it already was. As he understood, Larkwing had been without a cadet for a long while before Ravencroon had shyly requested to train under him and as far as he he could, there wasn’t a cub in the Stormborn yet that was willing to take his place. Cubs weren’t allowed to be forced into a role or position they didn’t want to take, so Larkwing would have to hold out as best as he could until he got another. If the diplomat got sick, the faction would be in a frenzy, not having anyone to train a new diplomat if he got sick.

And what if things came to war? Cardinalfire wondered gloomily as everyone around him began crying their names to the skies. He exchanged a somber look with Jackdawstripe, wondering if they were thinking the same things. 

If Larkwing died, should we get Ravencroon? Cardinalfire wondered to himself. It would put him in danger, especially if we don’t have proof against Tigerslash yet.  …but would it be right to let the faction suffer without him?

He hopes he never has to make that choice.

After the cheers had quieted down, Asterdawn’s voice became strong again, adding, “In other news, the Stormborn assisted the Fennyield in chasing out Viperclaw and his elites, freeing them from his tyranny. That said, he and his elites are still at large - Viperclaw also appears to have intentions of getting revenge.”

Cardinalfire tactfully hid his smirk behind his paw, cleaning the blood of his snack from his muzzle. His mother would be pleased if she’d seen that clever play - clearly, his Storm had noticed the Fennyield’s rapid recovery and had taken the steps to reminding them of why they were now healed. The Fennyield now owed them a debt for stepping in and not only saving their pelts, but for not taking more furious action against them for their attempted cub-napping of Frostfang’s kits. If the Fenns turned their backs on them, the Souls and the Skies at least would know that the Stormborn remained honorable.

“Asterdawn is correct,” Nightrattle accepted the implied debt easily, stepping into the moonlight to wordlessly take his turn as his Storm stepped back. “The Stormborn were instrumental in the liberation of our noble faction, alongside our acting lieutenant Nettleflower who revealed his secret crimes against our own faction.”

He paused allowing a cheer to go up for Nettleflower, who merely raised her chin with a passive expression of satisfaction.

“That said, we have declared the crimes Viperclaw committed to be severe and as a faction, we have decided that his name, honored and in the name of the Souls should be changed.”

“I agree,” Asterdawn hummed immediately. “That tom took advantage of the loyalty offered to him by his faction willfully, he chose not to lead with honor but with fear.”

“He was hardly a leader at all,” the Styrman, Stormdrift growled.

“It is with this in mind that I believe that his name shall be voided and instead, he be deemed Scornedclaw - for the harm he dealt out to his very own faction.”

“I have no objections,” said Asterdawn, a sentiment echoed by Stormdrift.

“Then under the eye of Moonsoul, it is so,” Nightrattle declared solemnly. “In brighter, kinder news - we have two new legionaries in Littlespore and Wethaw, alongside two new cadets in Oakpaw and Brownpaw.”

Cardinalfire cheered for his friends, wishing he could’ve bumped into Littlespore at least once during this meeting. He’d wanted to see if he’d gotten any bigger, or what new scars he had like Wetjaw but he supposed he’d have to wait until the next meeting. 

Seemingly finished with his own news, Nightrattle stepped back and allowed the last leader - Stormdrift - to step into the moonlight.

“The Shorerisen are pleased to hear of Scornedclaw’s ousting - his greed and false-command of the Souls threatened all the factions,” the large tom began. “It is a good omen that he is gone - and with that, the Shorerisen shall reclaim the patch of land he took for us.”

Nightrattle frowned at this, “The Fennyield have the same needs as it did before.”

“You shouldn’t attempt to keep territory granted under threat of a camp invasion that would endanger a faction’s cub,” Stormdrift said firmly, meeting the other leader’s eyes without flinching. The two leaders stared each other down for a moment, hackles raised and fur on their necks slightly bristled at the silent argument being waged before all the factions. 

Finally, Nightrattle sighed and broke eye-contact.

“I accept the Shorerisen’s reclamation of that land,” he said. “We still have the uplands after all.”

“What?” Cardinalfire snarled furiously, Quietpaw leaping angrily to her paws beside him and Jackdawstripe.

“The Galespun need to be returned to their territory,” Asterdawn retorted sharply.

“Why?” demanded Stormdrift, earning a shocked and disgusted expression from Asterdawn. Cardinalfire stood with his best friend, quickly following Quietpaw as she began shouldering her way to the front of the crowd. “They were chased off, they gave up their land and left.”

“Because they were killing us you greedy-faced bastards!” Quietpaw roared up, bristled like a porcupine. 

The meeting fell silent as Cardinalfire and Jackdawstripe stood on either side of the molly, protecting her from anyone who would want to defend her leader - although, Cardinalfire noticed that Nettleflower was glowering up mutinously at her leader.

Was she not consulted about this possibility? Cardinalfire wondered.

“Who are you?” Nightrattle demanded. 

“I am Quietpaw of the Galespun, the cats you heartless boar-bellies invaded in our camp, who were ripped out of our nests in our sleep, whose monarchs were chased from the nursery by your cats,” she seethed as Nightrattle froze in place, seemingly unprepared to face one of the cats his faction had wronged. “You and your legionaries tried to kill us all! We retreated to save the lives of our elders, our monarchs, our cubs and you think because of that you can just keep our home?!”

“The river is flush with fish, the banks holding plentiful eggs,” Asterdawn said cooly, glaring at the Shorerisen leader before her gaze turned to the Fennyield one. “And my legionaries have hardly reported hide nor fur of Fennyield hunters in the moor, yet you’re all glossy, muscular and well-fed. Speak as the Souls judge your words, why do either of you need the moor mor than a faction full of cats displaced through the will of a tyrant?”When neither leader said anything, nor were they willing to meet her icy stare, Asterdawn concluded, “As I thought. Do not let greed blind you to what is right and just - The Galespun must be returned to their land and reparations made for the cruelty that ended with them being chased out to begin with.”