Heronswoop hunting in the swamp 🪶

MOON 9

Spotpaw doesn't understand how Fierceflit got so good at hunting.

Glintpelt is sharing tongues with Hatchstar.

These are the leaders and deputies of all the clans, besides CrystalLakeClan.

For Gooseclan, there’s ParrotStar and MoonRaven.

ParrotStar is a quiet, observant, independent, and territorial leader. He refuses to take sides during conflicts that don’t involve Gooseclan.

MoonRaven is a humorous, prideful, talkative, and vain deputy. She puts pressure on the other Gooseclan cats to keep up appearances and make Gooseclan look strong.

For Swampclan, there’s AntStar and WiseWhisker.

AntStar is a vicious, playful, intelligent, and blood-thirsty leader. She always uses killing-blows in fights, and will choose ruthlessness over mercy every time.

WiseWhisker is a wise, brave, snappy, and cautious deputy. She shows mercy where AntStar shows violence.

For Hillclan, there’s Bearstar and Tinytuft.

Bearstar is an air-headed, distracted, forgetful, and friendly leader. He’s always forgetting when kits need to be made apprentices, and when apprentices need to be made warriors.

Tinytuft is an anxious, over-worked, tired, and helpful deputy. He’s constantly having to remind BearStar, and he’s constantly having to snap BearStar back to reality.

For Pineclan, there’s WillowStar and BarkHeart.

WillowStar is an old brave, caring, self-sacrificing, and generous leader. She would die for any and every one of her clanmates.

more caveclan concept art while i stagger to actually finish a piece! i'll post a bit of the lore for this location under the cut (translated from portuguese, so it might be phrased a bit weird):

Paletail stares down at the small bundles of fluff at his feet, mouth opening and closing, trying to form words. There was no way this could be happening. No way. Oh stars, what was he going to tell Strikestar? Shinepelt? Any of them? One of the little bundles lifts their head and lets out a small meow, daintily reaching out a paw. Slowly, he leans down and sniffs them, taking in their warm milky scent. He pulls back and finally looks up, ears pressed back.

The small she-cat in front of him avoided his gaze, tail flicking uneasily. He hadn’t seen her in almost a month and now she shows up with kits? His eyes trail along her brown tabby pelt, thinking back to his first encounter with her. He’d just become a warrior and they’d fallen for each other fast. Too fast. One thing led to another and he found himself stumbling home, lovedrunk.

“I…” He trails off, looking back down at the kits. They were so small. How could something be so small? “I don’t know…”

“Please, Paletail. Please take them. They’ll have much better lives in your clan than out on the streets with me.” The she-cat pleads, finally looking up.

Paletail meets her gaze. Yellow meeting blue in a staring match. A dormant emotion he’d felt when she first disappeared resurfaced: anger.

“You disappear for a moon, no goodbye, no word, nothing! Then you show up with kits?” He asks, growl creeping into his voice despite his best attempt to keep it out.

“I didn’t know what to do! I got pregnant and panicked!” The she-cat defends, ears pressing back into her skull.

“How can I be sure they’re even mine?” Paletail’s eyes narrow, tail lashing angrily behind him. “How can I trust you?”

“Oh Paletail, how could they not be yours?” The she-cat steps forward, nuzzling her head under his chin. She lingers for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at Paletail. “You’re the only cat I could imagine myself with. My Paletail.”

Paletail feels himself soften and leans down, pressing his nose into her cheek. He sighs, curling his tail around his kits. “Come with me. Please.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’d never fit in.” The she-cat draws away, head hanging. “We can’t see each other anymore. I’d never want you to leave if we did.”

“Milk…” Paletail reaches forward with a paw, but the she-cat ducks away. She turns and walks away.

“Goodbye Paletail.”

“Goodbye, Milk.” Paletail’s heart grows heavy as she disappears into the underbrush. He looks back down at the kits, frowning. How was he going to do this?

******

Paletail pads into camp, back heavy with the weight of his kits. His smallest kit dangled from his jaws, letting out little muffled protests into his chest. He looks around the camp, foolishly hoping that no one would notice him. He pads along the side, eyes narrowing in on the nursery. He’s halfway there when a thorn catches on the pelt of his youngest. They let out a loud cry, squirming in his jaws. Eyes turn his way and Paletail freezes, fur fluffing up.

“Paletail?” Strikestar is the first to speak, head tilting as she takes in the scene before her. “Whatcha got there, bud?”

Paletail’s eyes dart from left to right, then back to Strikestar. Carefully, he sets down his kit and offers a sheepish smile. “Would you believe me if I told you, you were dreaming right now?”

Strikestar lets out an unimpressed hum, brow raising. She looks at Hyeridrizzle beside her, who shakes her head fondly. She sighs and beckons Paletail over with a flick of her tail.

Paletail slumps, jostling the kits on his back and making them squeak. He picks up his youngest and pads over to the medicine den, acutely aware of eyes on him. Stars, this was embarrassing.

“Out of all the things you taught him, Fennelpelt, being careful wasn’t one of them?” Yarrowtuft’s voice travels across the clearing from the warrior’s den.

“I didn’t think I needed to.” Fennelpelt sighs, making Paletail hunch his shoulders. Oh great, now he’d disappointed his crush.

Paletail stops in front of Strikestar, ears pressed back against his skull. He sets down his youngest and reaches back for his other kits, bringing them down one after the other. He flops down onto his haunches, face burning.

“Ignore them. I bet they were doing things worse than having a little night out when they were your age.” Strikestar says, covering Paletail’s paw with her own.

“I know I was.” Hyeridrizzle huffs, smiling. She stretches forward and sniffs one of the kits, the largest. She chuckles as the kit baps her nose, meowing.

“I’d call it more than a night out. I couldn’t convince her to come back with me.” Paletail says, looking away from Strikestar and down at his kits. “I wasn’t even sure I was going to bring the kits with me.”

“Well I’m glad you did. They’re going to be safer here, Paletail, I know it.” Strikestar replies.

“Have you thought of any names?” Hyeridrizzle asks. The kitten she had been playing with latches onto her paw. “She’s a feisty one.”

Paletail smiles, the first one he has since watching Milk leave, and reaches down to nuzzle the kit. She was the biggest of the three, dark gray and fluffy. Little stripes break up her body. The kit turns her attention to Paletail and bites down on his nose, though without any teeth, it only tickled.

“I’m thinkin’ Bugkit. She’s squirmy like one.” Paletail says, gently pulling away. He looks over to his middle kit, his little boy.

The tom was clambering over his youngest sibling, reaching around blindly. He lifts his head, meowing loudly at Paletail. He was similar in color to his sister, just a little lighter, and had the same stripes along his body. Paletail presses his nose against the kit’s, wrinkling it.

“His nose is cold. Coldkit.”

“I like them.” Strikestar smiles, eyes shining. She looks down at the smallest, a little brown she-cat with darker swirling stripes. “What about this little girl?”

Paletail shifts his gaze to the youngest and visibly softens. He settles down, curling his paws underneath him and nuzzles the brown kitten. “Milkkit.”

Strikestar reaches forward and licks the top of Paletail’s head, purring. “Those are perfect names.”

“Thanks.” Paletail smiles at his leader, warmth blooming in his chest. Maybe everything was going to be alright. If everyone else is as supportive as Strikestar, that is.

“Alright, lemme see them.” Yarrowtuft settles down next to Paletail, laying her tail across his back. Her eyes scan the kits bundled together in front of her, a smile slowly creeping across her face. “They are rather cute.”

“Plus having new kits means the clan is growing.” Fennelpelt adds, leaning over Paletail. He places his paw on the other side of the large tom, leaning down so far that his chest brushes against Paletail’s ears. Paletail, on the other hand, was doing a very good job of hiding the way his breath stuttered at the contact.

Strikestar shoots the tom an understanding, yet teasing, look, much to his dismay.

“I wonder if training any of them will be the same as training Paletail.” Fennelpelt meows. He reaches out a paw and places it next to Milkkit. The little she-kit crawls closer to it and opens her mouth in a pitiful wail.

Paletail stiffens, frowning. Gently, he noses his youngest, turning her attention to him. “What’s wrong Milk?”

Milkkit squeaks and bats at his face, little claws getting caught in his cheek fluff. She pulls herself against his chest and curls up.

“Shinepelt went out with Dawnfrost to look for herbs. I’m sure he’ll be back soon to give the kits a once-over.” Hyeridrizzle says.

“I should probably move them to the nursery in the meantime. It’s probably not good for them to be moved around as much as they have been.” Paletail grabs the scruff of Milkkit and stands, careful not to jostle her.

“Fennelpelt and Yarrowtuft can carry Coldkit and Bugkit.” Strikestar says, gesturing to the two kits curled into one another.

Paletail nods. After making sure his other kits were secure, he turns and makes his way to the nursery. He pushes into the thick shrubbery, blinking to get used to the dark lighting. Looking around, he spots a divot in the ground, and pads up to it. Placing Milkkit down, he turns to Fennelpelt and Yarrowtuft, waiting for them to deposit the kits.

“Thanks guys.” Paletail says, bowing his head.

“Don’t mention it.” Fennelpelt smiles, sitting down. “I’ll sit with them while you get some moss to make a nest.”

“I’ll help you with that. Maybe we can find some feathers too.” Yarrowtuft meows, leading the way out of the nursery.

Paletail follows after her, looking over his shoulder one last time before stepping out into the clearing. The image of Fennelpelt curled up next to his kits was one he definitely enjoyed.

******

Shinepelt was a little surprised when he learned that Paletail was the first to have kits. He would have bet it was going to be Strikestar. Oh well, you don’t win them all. However, he was very surprised to learn just how anxious of a cat Paletail was. When it came to his kits, that is.

“Are you sure she’s ok? What if the thorn got under her skin? Can that happen? Oh, Starclan, I just got them and I’m already a bad dad.” Paletail frets, body pressed to Shinepelt’s back as he looks over the medicine cat’s shoulder.

Shinepelt sighs, rolling his eyes. “You’re not a bad dad, Paletail. A bad dad abandons his kits, and you didn’t do that.”

“But what if-”

“Paletail.”

Paletail’s jaw clamps shut and he looks down at the medicine cat, brow furrowed. The small tom steps away and turns to face him, putting a paw over the warrior’s.

“Listen to me ok?” Paletail nods. “You’ve had these kits for less than a day. At least wait until a moon has passed to decide what kind of father you are.”

Paletail sighs, shoulders slumping. “What if I don’t know how to be a dad? I don’t have one to teach me how.” The paw on his foot travels up to his shoulder, squeezing.

“You have a whole clan to help you out. Strikestar and Yarrowtuft have both been around for their clans’ kits, and I’ve been a medicine cat for a majority of my life. If I don’t know how to take care of a kit by now, then consider me a failure.” Shinepelt purrs, smiling.

“Yea, yea you're right. Thanks Shinepelt.” Paletail smiles back at the tom, ears flicking forward.

“I’m always right. Now.” Shinepelt pulls away and turns back to the now slumbering kits. “They’re all fine, just tired. Nothing a little nap can’t fix.” He pushes himself to his feet and pads past Paletail to the entrance.

“What should I do if they wake up?” Paletail asks, not taking his eyes off his kits.

“Lay with them. Let them get used to your scent and voice. Before you know it, they’ll be running around camp causing trouble.”

Paletail nods. Carefully, he steps into the large nest and curls up around his kits, laying his fluffy tail across their bodies. Resting his head on the edge of the nest, he resigns himself to contently lay and watch them.

******

Dawnfrost follows closely behind Yarrowtuft and Hyeridrizzle, eyes trained on the ground watching their paw prints appear in the mud. His eyes skip between the two sets of pawprints, studying their differences. Hyeridrizzle’s paws were, naturally, larger than Yarrowtuft’s, but Yarrowtuft seemed to have a longer stride than Hyeridrizzle. It must be from her heritage as a Patchouliclan cat. In gatherings, he noticed they tended to walk faster than other cats, though he could never tell if it was because they had shorter legs and had to keep up, or if they just were used to running and walking was foreign to them. It wouldn’t hurt to ask Yarrowtuft. Or maybe it would. Would she be offended and think he was calling her short? Maybe he should preface that he’s not before asking. Would that be rude? Insensitive? Maybe he could ask Strikestar. He would’ve asked Lowback, but…

Dawnfrost shakes his head, drawing himself out of his thoughts. He looks down at the paw prints, brow furrowing. It’s best not to think about that. Up ahead, Yarrowtuft and Hyeridrizzle chat about something Fennelpelt caught on patrol the other day. He didn’t bother paying much attention. He hears enough about the black warrior from Paletail. His eyes travel down to his own paws, noticing the way the mud was turning his white paw brown. That’d be a pain to clean later. He adjusts his stride and starts placing his paws in the older warriors' already formed paw prints, hoping to decrease the amount of mud getting on him. He continues like this for a few cat lengths, hopping from paw print to paw print.

Suddenly, he freezes, paw planted in a print not belonging to his fellow clanmates. Hackles raising, he lifts his head, eyes following the prints to his right where they disappeared under leaves.

“Yarrowtuft.” He softly calls, gaining the attention of the deputy. Once she turns he nods to the side. “Paw prints going that way.”

Without waiting for her reply, he turns and pushes through the undergrowth, eyes to the ground following the prints. He could smell the cat, but couldn’t place a clan to them. Definitely not a friendly cat. A twig snaps in front of him, making him freeze. Eyes narrowing, he spots the shape of the cat ahead. Dawnfrost bounds ahead, stopping just a tail length from the intruder.

“Hey!”

The rogue cat stops, lifting their head. They turn slightly, regarding Dawnfrost with a cold glare. The cat was bigger than him, but so is Paletail and he’s beaten the tom in battle training before.

“You’re on Swampclan territory.”

The rogue scoffs, lip curling. “Says who?” The rogue’s voice was rough and deep, like his vocal chords had been damaged and never recovered.

“Says me. Now get out of my territory.” Dawnfrost growls, baring his teeth. The tom in front of him smirks, which only makes Dawnfrost’s tail lash.

“You and what army, kit?” He retorts, turning fully to face Dawnfrost, claws unsheathing.

The brush behind Dawnfrost swishes as Yarrowtuft and Hyeridrizzle join him, fur fluffed and ears pressed back.

“Us.” Hyeridrzzle says, claws digging into the ground.

“You heard him, move along.” Yarrowtuft adds.

The rogue pulls himself up, eyes widening. Doubt flickers across his face, leaving a satisfied swirl in Dawnfrost. Finally, the rogue turns away with a sneer. He spits into the undergrowth, flicking his tail dismissively.

“The swamp sucks anyway.” He growls before trotting away into the undergrowth.

“Follow him.” Yarrowtuft commands Hyeridrzzle. She nods when the warrior listens without hesitation, pushing into the undergrowth. The deputy looks back to Dawnfrost, smiling. “You did good kid.”

“Really?” Dawnfrost asks, hackles flattening out. He beams down at the ginger cat.

“Sure thing. I got a few tips on your introduction though.” Yarrowtuft steps back into the undergrowth, intent on presuming their patrol.