#talonpaw

Redstar let out a purr of amusement and flicked her tail. "Ah, that's quite alright. I was about done anyway." The leader rolled on her stomach and yawned, stretching her legs out and spreading her claws. She shook the sleep out of her face and gave the three moon old Shiverkit and five moon old Morningkit a small smile. "How can I help you two?" 

Shiverkit still looked embarassed, sitting down and grooming her paw once. "Um, uh, well…you see, I wanted to know, what's the oldest story?" 

Morningkit shifted, then spoke quickly, "I'm really sorry Redstar, I-I tried asking Iciclepool, but she said that as the lorekeeper, you would probably know more, but I didn't want to wake you from your nap…" 

"Morningkit, it's alright," Redstar let out a purr of reassurance, her tail flicking. "I was asleep for a few hours; I am rested," she added with a short yawn. Redstar tilted her head a bit. "Hm…the oldest story, though…that's a tough one." 

"Why?" Shiverkit mewed, tilting her head. 

"Well, there's a few old stories. But the oldest stories are often very disjointed, and sometimes quite long. Like…say," Redstar looked at them with amusement. "Didn't Hopechase try to tell you about the epic of the Fire that Saved the Clans?" 

Morningkit let out a groan, one that she immediately regretted as she stared at the ground. "I'm sorry, it's just…that one went for a very long time." 

Shiverkit looked at the older kit incredulously. "What? But that story was so cool! Fireheart was trying so hard to make his Clan believe his loyalty - " 

"I know, but it went on forever!"

"Then why didn't you go?" 

Morningkit's eyes widened. "That would be rude to Hopechase!" 

Redstar rolled her eyes and suppressed a mrrow of amusement. Ah. Hopechase knew exactly what she was doing when Iciclepool said she needed a break from the kits, then. Poor Morningkit. At least Shiverkit didn't seem to mind. A new storyteller, then? That would be nice - Redstar was a lorekeper, but she didn't consider herself a terrific storyteller. But, she would do her best. The oldest story ForestClan knew was steeped in analogies, using terms that would've carried different meanings back then. She fully anticipated that it would go over their heads. But oh well. It was an interesting story nevertheless.

Redstar got to her feet and determined the angle of the sun. It would be almost lunch time. She looked towards the cooking fire, and saw Cloudthunder showing Talonpaw how to remove the pelt from mice cleanly. "Tell you what - let's sit in the shade near the cooking fire. Maybe once I'm done, food will be ready." 

"Okay," Shiverkit bounded to her feet excitedly, her tail high. 

Redstar padded across the clearing, with Shiverkit and Morningkit not far behind. She sat at the base of a tall-growing bush, its leaves providing dappled shade. They were far enough away from the cooking fire to not disturb Talonpaw's lesson, she figured. 

"Alright," Redstar began. "ForestClan has kept a lot of stories - at least, as many as we can hope to remember." She ignored the pang in her chest. The loss of Tawnyshadow hurt her the most out of those who left ForestClan last leafbare - she hoped that wherever she was, she was warm and safe. "The oldest known story we have is the myth of the gardener and the winnower." 

Morningkit's eyes widened to the size of moons. "G-Gardener? L-Like the monster?" 

Redstar bristled. "No. Who told you about those?" 

Shiverkit tilted her head. "Oh, mama told us about how there used to be other Clans. A big monster called a Wretch hurt them, but we were kept safe because of the walls. They keep us safe from a lot of things, like Woodcrawlers, and Gardeners." Shiverkit's ears slowly folded back as her leader's expression tightened. Maybe this wasn't a story Iciclepool was allowed to tell.

Morningkit bristled and sputtered, "P-Please don't be mad at her. It's my fault. I was nervous and I kept asking how we're sure that the walls would keep us safe, and…" 

Shiverkit looked at Morningkit with her mouth open in protest. Redstar lifted a paw up for silence, then sighed. "It's no one's fault. I'm not angry at anyone. It's just not a story for kits." She did not want kittens to grow up terrified for their lives. "Gardeners - the Deep Root entity, to be clear - haven't been seen for many, many years. I've never seen one myself, so I wouldn't worry about facing one any time soon. But, it also shows why this story is so old, doesn't it? When I say 'gardener', it's meant in its original definition - someone that tends to plants and flowers." 

"What's 'winnower' mean?" Shiverkit asked.

"A winnower is also an old word - someone that separates chaff from grain." 

"What's chaff?" 

Redstar blinked. Oh no. This story was going to take forever, wasn't it?

"Er…alright, a better comparison - someone that separates fresh prey from rotten prey. But with plants instead of prey." Redstar needed to set ground rules, so that she wasn't interrupted for definitions every few seconds…great StarClan, she wasn't used to changing her language to speak to kits all that well, but…

You were given a life for teaching the young. You better make use of it. 

"Now, before I begin, a few rules," she started. "First, listen carefully. No interruptions. If you're confused, raise your paw. Second - the story is a very old myth, and it's what our ancestors used to explain how life began, and how StarClan came to be." 

At this, Morningkit and Shiverkit leaned in, a flicker of surprise and excitement prickling through them. Redstar took a deep breath, and began. 

"Before the world as we know it existed - there was…well, nothing yet. Hm…give me a moment…" Oh no. Redstar heard this story as an apprentice, and even the words used then were confusing to her. She was not going to say that the gardener and winnower were 'principles of ontological dynamics', whatever that meant. Come on, think…how did Tawnyshadow dumb it down again…? "From this nothing, there were…ideas. Like dreams, but without a dreamer. We don't know what forms they really took. But, how we describe them in this story is the best explanation we have. So, once upon a time-before-time, a gardener and a winnower lived together in a garden of possibilities." 

Redstar checked to see if they were confused. To her reassurance, both kits nodded in understanding, entranced. Redstar forcibly relaxed, and continued. 

"In this dream, mornings were eternal, and nights were a flicker against a grain of sand. Ideas flourished, worms wriggled in the dirt, insects buzzed around flowers, and eventually, in the center of their garden, grew a tall tree with silver leaves. It was all because of their joint cooperation that this garden flourished. In the morning, the gardener would plant seeds, and see what kind of plants would grow. By the evening, the winnower would reap the crops, separating the seeds from plants that flourished, and those that failed. But during the day, to pass the time, they played a game of possibilities." 

"Hey Redstar, are you talking about the gardener and winnower story?" Cloudthunder called out.

"Yes, I am! At least, I'm trying to," Redstar replied.

"Do you mind if Talonpaw joins you?" Talonpaw squeaked and looked at Cloudthunder in embarrassment, and the warrior laughed. "He's been distracted." 

Redstar bristled and groomed her shoulder, her ears hot. "Ugh - sorry, Cloudthunder. I didn't mean to distract. I could move over to my den?" 

"Nah, don't worry about it. You and Barleywave can teach him how to roast mice tonight for dinner instead." Cloudthunder let out a mrrow of amusement before swatting Talonpaw's back teasingly. "Alright, go on. Off with you!" 

Talonpaw offered a humble apology before trotting over. He groomed his arm and gave Redstar an apologetic stare. "I'm sorry Redstar, I didn't mean to interrupt my own training," he mewed. "It's just, um, I never heard this one before." 

Redstar offered a slow blink. "It's alright, Talonpaw. Consider this a history lesson, then. It's more in the realm of mythology, but myths are important as well." 

"I could help you remember too," Morningkit looked up at Talonpaw hopefully. 

"Ah, it's fine, Morningkit. Gotta do my training right." Talonpaw sat upright, a flicker of resolve in his blue eyes. "I'll pay attention to this one, I swear." 

Redstar twitched her whiskers. "Alright. I'll hold you to it. Now, where did I leave off…Oh, right, the game of possibilities.

"The game took place on a large grid of squares, and they used flowers as playing pieces. It was a game of strategy. Depending on how many neighbours a flower had, they either suffocated and died, or reproduced and spread. The only move the players could make was the initial starting placements on the board. Then, the game would unfold automatically, with pieces dying, reproducing and spreading. When the game was in progress, the board was colorful and lively. However, the game would always end one single way - one pattern would dominate all others, overpowering every other possibility. The winnower was pleased by this outcome. But the gardener, over time, grew dissatisfied.

'Oh, winnower, it always ends the same. It's always this one, invasive weed that succeeds.' 

The winnower didn't notice how vexed their partner was - er, sorry Shiverkit, I see your paw, it's the word 'vexed', isn't it? It's another word for being upset, or frustrated. Are we good? Ah, good. Back to the story - upon hearing the gardener's frustrations, the winnower replied, 'I know. Isn't it a beautiful pattern? It proves itself strong and adaptable above all others. A magnificent crop.' 

'It is dull. It consumes everything, and suffocates anything new that blooms.'  

'I don't understand. This is how the game is played, gardener. There must always be a winning pattern.' 

'But every time we play, it's always this one pattern that wins. A boring exploit where one pattern finds the most optimal path to victory, and that's all they ever care about. They do not evolve, or diversify, or even develop culture. They kill, conquer and multiply. There's so many patterns with beautiful colors, shapes and sizes that we'll never get to see because of this…pest.' The gardener angrily snuffed out one of the weeds, forcing its roots to die out. But the surrounding spaces quickly filled it with more of the same weeds. The gardener frowned and said, 'I am going to do something about it. I will add a new rule to the game.' 

At this, the winnower grew wary. 'What do you mean?' it asked. 

'We should add a rule that rewards those who make space for new complexity. A power to help those who prioritize change, and diversity, and move the game away from gridlock.' A flicker of excitement came across the gardener's face. 'Oh, we should make the rule run parallel to the game itself - a token that can only be gifted to a certain pattern every game. This way, it does not cause the game to spiral completely out of control…'

'All you will do is delay the end. The dominant pattern will always emerge victorious. You will create cancers and cysts, and tell rotting patterns to keep living despite it all.' The winnower's voice grew angrier, and more fearful. 'Gardener - whatever we create only exists, because it must exist. You will prolong suffering with your rule.' 

'No. I am a gardener. I am the growth and preservation of possibilities. I am gentle rain and nurturing sunlight. I tend to the field and promise its diversity. I breed the flowers and weave their vines together to create new shapes. I will make myself into a law in the game.' 

'And I am a winnower. I am the end of needless suffering, the preservation of strong patterns and proven success. I trim the overgrowth and separate the chaff from the grain. I remove rot and blight. If you insist on destroying the health of our game, then I will make myself into a law designed to stop you.' 

And with this declaration, the winnower looked down at its hand, and unsheathed the first weapon. The gardener ran, crushing leaves, berries and petals as the winnower chased them around their garden of possibilities. Grapes popped under their feet, creating the detonations that made the sun, and poured juices that would create rivers and lakes. Their steps in the mud created mountains and valleys. Landscapes were made from the winnower slashing at the undergrowth, and the gardener's panting made mist and hot air. Eventually, in a fit of rage, the winnower cut down their garden centerpiece - the tree of silver leaves. It toppled and rolled into the meadow, and from its stump, a black hole appeared and swallowed everything around them, like a gaping mouth - taking all the plants, stars, insects, water, the dominant weeds, the diverse flowers, the ivies and the worms, and the gardener and winnower themselves - and spat everything out the other side, creating our world as we know it." 

Redstar decided to pause for a moment, as the two kits' eyes widened to the size of plates. She let out a chuckle. "Are we still following? Nothing too confusing so far?" 

"Wait, wait wait - so what was the game? Was it real? Why did they have to fight?" Morningkit squeaked. 

Redstar turned towards Talonpaw. A surge of affection rushed through her heart as Talonpaw's expression was a mixture of awe and deep thought. His tail swished back and forth. 

"Talonpaw? I'd like to hear any thoughts, if you have them," she prompted. 

"Well…uh, I have a few, I guess," he meowed, tilting his head. "Are the gardener and winnower…life and death? 'Cause it sounds like they are. It would explain why the gardener got bored of the game ending with everything dying all the time."

"Very good observations. Did the game really end with everything dying?" 

Talonpaw frowned. His tail twitched. "Hmmm….Well - " 

"The game ended with invasive weeds!" Shiverkit exclaimed, getting to her feet. "You said the entire board always ended in one pattern, right?"

"Yes, that's right, Shiverkit," Redstar chuckled. "But you interrupted Talonpaw. You have to wait your turn." 

"Oh! Sorry," Shiverkit mewed and sat back down, tail curled around her paws patiently. She brushed her paw across her ear timidly. 

"It's okay! Shiverkit's right, I forgot the game ended with one pattern still alive. I'm with the gardener on this one, like…well done, mousebrains! You became so efficient that you forgot not to kill everything else. Now what?" Talonpaw said this lightheartedly, but Morningkit stared at the floor. A thought occurred to her, and her pelt bristled. Redstar lowered her head towards her, concerned. 

"Is everything alright, Morningkit?" Redstar hoped she sounded gentle. 

Morningkit startled, her eyes wide and tail puffed. "Ah! Um, um…yeah, I'm okay. It's just, um…" She looked away and pawed the ground nervously. "...T-This is just a story, right? It's not real?" 

"Yes, Morningkit, it's just a myth - an explanation our ancestors made for things they didn't understand. It's not like the Deep Roots. The winnower and gardener aren't real," Redstar reassured calmly. Poor thing - she knew Morningkit was easily frightened. "And besides - this is only half the story." 

"Yeah! You said it explained how StarClan exists?" Shiverkit piped. 

"I missed hearing that part! Does it really explain StarClan?" Talonpaw's eyes flickered with excitement.

Redstar let out a mrrow of amusement. "Alright, alright. Let me continue.

"So, the gardener and winnower were pulled out of their dream world. Now, they were real, and so were their patterns. The patterns took on their true forms - fish, birds, rabbits, deer, dogs, Twolegs - everything we know was once a cultivated pattern in the garden."

"Even grass?" Shiverkit gasped, staring at the green blades beneath her tiny paws, her blue eyes wide with awe. 

"Especially grass. The gardener regained their bearings, and shouted, 'Go, my little seeds. Grow, and bloom into wondrous forms never seen before in our game. Unite, and diversify. To those who are curious, and thoughtful, and merciful, I will watch over them. To the pattern who touches my heart, I will grant them the gift of my new rule. Everything you touch, you change.' 

But the winnower also recovered, and cemented its goal to stop the gardener. They turned to their patterns and cried, 'Go, my thriving vines. Conquer, multiply, and spread far and wide. Take what you need to survive, for if you do not, another will take it from you. Snuff out patterns to sustain your own, and never forget those who tried to strangle you. Become hungry, and feed. Prove your right to exist, or else fail to exist.' 

With these last commands, the winnower chased the gardener, and the gardener fled. The patterns obeyed their creators' final words, and lived. They were hungry, and they had to eat, so they ate each other - in accordance to the winnower. Trees rooted themselves in soil, and fed on water and sunlight, and caterpillars devoured the tree's leaves. Birds hunted the worms and plucked them from the ground. Foxes chased the birds and crushed them in their jaws. With enough time, some animals began thinking about the gardener's commands, and wondered if they could be stronger together. So, birds created flocks. Deer made herds. Twolegs made villages - " 

"And cats made Clans!" Shiverkit exclaimed. 

Redstar laughed. "No, not yet! But we're getting there. Cats were mostly solitary, but still formed small colonies and family groups.

"There were brief moments in time where the winnower would lose sight of the gardener during their chase. In these moments, the gardener would transform into different animals, and speak to its former seeds. One day, it stumbled upon a cat patrolling the forest. It watched the feline, wondering what kind of decisions it would make. The cat spotted a mouse foraging in the undergrowth, and stalked it. The gardener was chagrined when it watched the cat kill the mouse. But then, it saw something they hadn't seen from any cat before. 

The cat placed a gentle paw over the mouse's corpse, and closed their eyes. 'Thank you, dear mouse. My teeth are sharp, meat is my sole diet, and I am sorry that you were my prey today. I spared others of your kind - those pregnant, and too young. I hope they multiply, so that cats can do the same. May your kin run, hide and escape us often, so that we, too, can learn the thrill of the chase and the triumph of a successful hunt.' 

Touched by the respect the cat gave the mouse, the gardener revealed itself in the shape of a loner. The cat was wary, and it understood immediately that this was the gardener. 

'Dear cat - indulge my curiosity. Your kind are children of the winnower's rules - hunters by nature. What compels you to honor your prey?' 

'Dear gardener - why shouldn't I honor them? I may not be a mouse, but I know how I felt when my littermate was killed by a coyote. It held no malice to my sibling. The coyote was hungry. But when it ran off and refused to acknowledge the life it took, I was deeply hurt. The coyote and I are the same - we can only survive on the meat of others. I will not forget the lives I take, and I will teach my kits to do the same. I do so in the hope that one day, another animal, bigger and stronger than I, will honor me like I have done for this mouse.'

It was then that danger struck - the gardener was complacent, and the winnower snuck up on them in the shape of a wolf, their jaws open wide. To the gardener's shock, the cat leapt at the winnower, giving the gardener time to escape, at the cost of their life. The gardener hid in a hollow tree, and the winnower lost sight of them, eventually leaving the area. 

When they knew they were safe, the gardener approached the cat's body, and wept. Here was a pattern that was on the brink of diversifying; something unique and different from all the others, and it was snuffed out before it had the chance to proliferate. With hope in its heart, the gardener made a choice.

'Today, I invoke my new rule. My token of power will be placed upon this pattern. From now on, when cats die, they will not disappear. Their spirits will live on forevermore, becoming a part of the world. Cats who are willing to lead and guide other cats to diversify, will have long reigns - nine lives gifted by nine spirits of their own ancestors. For this gift, I sacrifice my voice, and take to the stars above.' 

And so, it was done. The gardener's shape turned into smoke, and rose to the skies above. The body of the dead cat miraculously healed, and it came back to life. The very last thing the cat heard was, 'Unite, and diversify. When you need guidance, look to the stars. And now, my silence begins.'

The cat, blessed with new life, took the gardener's words to heart. Even though they could not see them anymore, they spent the rest of their eight lives reaching out to other cats, uniting them, and diversifying together, creating Clans. The one thing that kept all Clans connected above all else, were the spirits of their ancestors, now united in the stars below the silent gardener.

And…that's it. That's the end of the myth," Redstar finished. She looked to see the awed faces of the young cats before her, and a purr escaped her throat. 

Shiverkit's tail twitched with excitement. "StarClan was really created by the gardener's power?" 

"Well, maybe, maybe not. It's a myth to explain how StarClan came to be, but we don't really know the truth," Redstar explained. 

"But…what happened to the winnower?" Morningkit mewed. 

"The story doesn't say. Sorry, Morningkit." 

"That is so cool." Talonpaw's pupils dilated. "I've never heard a story like this before. I like it a lot!" 

"I'm gonna go tell mama about it!" Shiverkit jumped to her feet.

"Wait Shiverkit - I think your mom is on patrol right now, and lunch must be ready soon. Why don't you and Morningkit go see Cloudthunder? The patrol will be back soon, I'm sure." Redstar beckoned her with her paw towards the kitchen.

"Okay! Thank you for telling me the story, Redstar. I really enjoyed it. I'll tell others about it!" Shiverkit mewed before bounding away. 

"Oh - wait for me! Be careful of the fire!" Morningkit jumped to her feet and trotted after Shiverkit.

Redstar smiled, then looked towards Talonpaw. "As for you, Talonpaw, I still need to make sure this was a lesson of some kind, at least! I'll have to question you on it." 

Talonpaw straightened up. "Lay it on me, I got this!" 

"Eager! I love to see it," Redstar chuckled. "This is an old myth, the oldest one we have on record. Other old stories are the epic of the Fire that Saved the Clan, and the Journey to the Desert. How does this one differ from them?" 

Talonpaw groaned and threw his head back. "Ugh, I thought I was just supposed to remember this one! Sorry - I'll be good. Hold on, let me think about it," the young tom grumbled as his tail tapped the ground. His ears swiveled as he thought things over, and Redstar couldn't help but beam. She had grown fond of the apprentice - he was always eager and willing to learn and explore, even if he made mistakes. He was a wonderful apprentice for the start of the new ForestClan. "Okay, uhh…I guess the language of this one was different, it seemed way more...mysterious? I think? The Fire and the Journey are long, but their language was still…normal? Straightforward!" Talonpaw's ears perked. "Yeah, straightforward! That's the word. Sure, the prophecies in those stories are metaphorical, but it was like this story was just one big StarClan prophecy. There's words that meant something back then that mean something way different now, too, which means it's really old. Like, living things were 'patterns', like we were all weaved linen or something. Today, we'd just say we're animals or plants. The word 'gardener' must've been something else back then too, 'cause today, I can't imagine a story with a Gardener as a good guy, you know?" 

"Good observations! What do you think this story could tell us about how our ancestors lived?" the leader prompted. 

"Well, for one, Gardeners must've not been named Gardeners yet. And if this myth did exist, then I think whoever named Gardeners was either crazy, or bad at naming things. Err, sorry, maybe a bad thing to joke about, heheh," Talonpaw licked his chest fur nervously before looking back up. "But, it sounds like they were grateful for anything they caught, just like we are today!" Talonpaw purred, holding his tail high. "Sure, they didn't thank StarClan - but that's because StarClan didn't exist yet! I think it's cool that our ancestors thought what made us different was gratitude!" 

"That's an excellent takeaway from that myth, Talonpaw. Anything else? What about the gardener and winnower as entities?" 

"Uh…I mean, I guess it's weird that we don't ever talk about them anymore! Just StarClan. Dunno why though," Talonpaw shrugged. "I think the story is really cool!" 

"I also thought it was curious that we never mentioned them in any ceremonies as a child. I assumed that it had to do with the gardener's unfortunate name." 

"Yeah, that's too bad. Although…something else bothers me." Talonpaw's brows furrowed with thought. 

Redstar blinked at him, a prickle in her chest. "What is it?" 

"I…guess it's more of a question than anything. Do we…know how old Deep Roots are?"

The question caught Redstar off guard for a moment, her blue eyes wide. She mulled over the question, then returned the frown. "Hm…I'm sorry Talonpaw, I wish I knew the answer. If it was known, we've since lost the information. All I know is that they did exist before the Wretch first appeared, but in much smaller numbers." 

Talonpaw's blue eyes widened. "Then…hm…ah, no, I'm overthinking it," he mumbled nervously. "Sorry." 

"No no, go on. There are no stupid questions, Talonpaw." 

"Well, it's more of a wrong conclusion, really. 'Cause at first, I thought, if the Deep Roots were here for a long time, and hurt our ancestors as much as they do now, then I wonder if the 'dull weeds' in the garden of possibilities - yannow, the ones that always took over everything? - I wondered if maybe those were meant to be Deep Roots." 

Redstar's neck fur bristled. 

"But, uh, I guess not, since they weren't that big an issue before." Talonpaw didn't notice Redstar's discomfort, and a flicker of realization skipped across his face. "Oh! Maybe they were talking about Twolegs? I mean, from the stories I know, it doesn't sound like they're all evil, but those that are, really are, apparently? It doesn't sound that different from cats. But they keep terraforming everything, and I've heard some really wild stories from Olive! Did you know that Twolegs can apparently communicate with each other from really far away, using black rectangles? That's so weird to me!"  

Talonpaw's change of subject forced Redstar to redirect her attention. Her neck fur flattened, and she entertained the boy's curiosities and adventurous spirit. As she listened to him talk about the things he learned, the two cats padded back towards the kitchen, to a small handful of cats who were now gathered around, prepared to eat a warm meal, and chattering about their day. Shiverkit in particular wanted to recount the story to anyone who would listen, despite Morningkit's attempts to redirect her. 

Redstar never thought too deeply about the story of the gardener and winnower. It was a myth, not a historical event - so everything that was mentioned in it was nothing but a religious parable, if anything. 

But, maybe Talonpaw had stumbled across a thought that her ancestors also held. And she had no way of knowing.