a decent amount of people by now have pointed out how much Tempestkit looks like Mudsplash, so i wanted to draw that a bit :) of course, Crowflame can't see Tempestkit all that well, but I imagine they have similar personalities, too, and i'm sure he was told by Evie/Lightningtail/Antbite how similar they look
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
(Ripplepaw: 11, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)
Rattlepelt confessed her feelings to Wildclaw and they have become mates.
[Image ID: Rattlepelt says to Wildclaw, âI think Iâm ready⌠ask me again, Wildclaw.â Under Wildclaw, it says + MATE: RATTLEPELT. Under Rattlepelt, it says + MATE: WILDCLAW.]
Interested in herbs even in her kithood, Troutpaw is eagerly apprenticed to Fennelspot.
[Image ID: Troutpaw, in her apprentice sprite, faces Fennelspot, who says, âI hope I do right by you, Troutpaw.â Under Troutpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TROUTKIT -> TROUTPAW, INSECURE -> COMPASSIONATE.]
Shadowdropâs kits are apprenticed. While Tempestpaw is eager to explore the territory, Mosspaw and Trumpetpawâs thoughts are on their dead father. Their mentors are Carnationspeckle, Clammask, and Halibutdusk.
[Image ID: Tempestpaw, Mosspaw, and Trumpetpaw all have apprentice sprites. Under Tempestpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TEMPESTKIT -> TEMPESTPAW. Under Mosspaw, it says LEVEL UP! MOSSKIT -> MOSSPAW, BULLYING -> SHAMELESS. Under Trumpetpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TRUMPETKIT -> TRUMPETPAW, NERVOUS -> TROUBLESOME, + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF STORIES.]
(Tempestpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, loves to eat)
(Mosspaw: 6, male, caretaker apprentice, shameless, stares at fire)
(Trumpetpaw: 6, female, warrior apprentice, troublesome, plays in mud, lover of stories)
Downstar stands above the Clan and proclaims Elmpaw shall be known as Elmsprout, honoring her amity.
[Image ID: Elmsprout is in her full, long-furred, adult sprite. Under her, it says LEVEL UP! ELMPAW -> ELMSPROUT, CAREFUL LISTENER -> HELPFUL INSIGHT.]
Downstar, Rustshade, and Puddlepaw find a wounded loner with a mangled tail.
[Image ID: Downstar, Rustshade, and Puddlepaw stand in the back while Fennelspot talks to a black bengal tom with a white underside. Under the black tom, it says NEW PLAYER: DARKKICK, 105, MALE, LONESOME, TALENTED SWIMMER, UNDERSTANDS NATURE, + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL.]
---
The black and white tom wasnât trained to fight. Heâd only gotten into a few scrapes in his many moons wandering the wilds surrounding his old home, learning what he could from the friends he made. Heâd never been in a fight like this. He was never meant to be in a fight like this. Never meant to be in a fight at all.
He wasnât about to join his ancestors that day, however. He was still too mad at them.
The brown tom chased the loner all the way from the northern human settlement. It was like he had been waiting for the loner, following rumors of a starkly colored tom offering medical treatment to any strays who needed it. Youâd have to be mousebrained to get mad at someone for that, but considering how the lonerâs feathery tail was now coated in blood, he wouldnât argue with the maniac.
The lonerâs paws skidded against the edge of the river. It still had its freezing winter chill to it, despite the coming of spring. Thick Clan scent flooded the lonerâs nose. Oh, to go home⌠but he knew full well that he was not welcome there anymore. If he crossed the river, he would suffer their wrath. Yet with how vicious his attacker wasâŚ
The loner could hear his pursuer getting closer, stomping over new growth in his mad dash. The loner could handle a random Clan patrol. He steadied his paws against the stones and dirt leading into the water and plunged in.Â
The lonerâs blood drifted in the current. His long fur weighed him down, but he kicked with the flow like he was running on water. He arched over stones and curved his body like an otter, letting the river do most of his work for him. He threw his head over the surface of the water for a deep, shaking breath. He looked back. The brown tom stood by the river, glaring at the loner. The loner dove back into the water.
He kept swimming until his muscles began to ache and his lungs started to burn. The current pushed him toward a wall of stone, where the river pushed on only a paw deep. The loner splashed onto the shallow rocks. He laid in the low flow, gathering his breath. Heâd go treat his tail soon. He just⌠needed a moment to rest. He wasnât as young as he used to be.
âStay there!â someone yowled. Wonderful, more company. The lonerâs eyes were blurry from water, strain, and pain, but he squinted at the figure approaching from the southern side of the river. He saw gray spots against a well-muscled body and blue eyes studying his drenched pelt.
âPuddlespeckle?â the loner coughed, water dripping from his nose. His eyes cleared a bit; no, not Puddlespeckle. Puddlespeckle had no white blaze on his face.
âThatâs my grandfatherâs name,â the lookalike gasped. âIâm his granddaughter, Puddlepaw. How do you know my grandfather?â
âPuddlepaw, who have you found?â Two more figures approached the river. The lonerâs vision was clear, and there was no mistaking the two cats coming closer.
âRustshade and Downdapple,â the loner laughed softly, shaking his dripping head. âI heard RippleClan became a reality, but I wasnât sure if you were part of it.â
âDarkkick?â Rustshade muttered. The ginger tom and tortoiseshell molly shared the same shocked look. Puddlepaw slipped back to Rustshadeâs side. The loner, Darkkick, pulled himself out of the river and shook out his pelt. His tail burned and he couldnât help but hiss.
âThe one and only,â Darkkick huffed, grooming his tail.
âYouâve misnamed Downstar,â Puddlepaw said, glancing up at her leader. âDownstar, is this the same Darkkick from the stories?â
âI should have guessed you tell stories about me,â Darkkick scoffed. âI suppose you paint me as Autumnstarâs victim, then? Thrown out for doing what StarClan asked?â
âWeâre sorry that happened to you,â Downstar said, bowing her head. âWe thought you left the territories long ago.â
âI traveled for a few moons,â Darkkick sighed. âMy better nature got the better of me though. Couldnât let loners die when I know how to help them.â Darkkick spat out a chunk of wet black fur. âI would have thought youâd pick Paleshade as leader.â
âShe didnât live to see RippleClanâs founding,â Puddlepaw muttered.
âAh,â Darkkick said softly. The fur along his spine bristled. It would have been easy for Autumnstar to kill the brave molly without Darkkick around. Heâd covered for Paleshade and Weedfoot so many times as clericâŚ
âFennelspot would want to see you,â Downstar said. âHe could help you with your tail.â Darkkick studied his tail. The wounds were big, and it would take Darkkick a while to set up a temporary medicine den, especially with the maniac from the human settlement looking for him.
âLetâs see how that tomâs been taking care of you,â Darkkick sighed, padding away from the river. âNow what part of the coastline has your little group mangled into a camp?â
Rustshade and Puddlepaw took position on either side of Darkkick (codekeepers, always so wary) while Downstar escorted the long-lost cleric to RippleClanâs camp. Darkkick had heard stories of the shipwreck by the sea, had even seen it from a distance on day-long patrols to collect resources from the ocean, but he would never have imagined it safe for cats to camp in. Even if you ignored the old stories (which apparently no one was telling the younger generation from the look on Puddlepawâs face during Darkkickâs musings) of terrifying wraiths wandering the shipwreck, how long would the wood last and keep the Clan sheltered? Somehow, though, the shipwreck was still standing strong, protecting the blossoming Clan under its wind-worn wood.
Although Darkkick knew better than to needlessly flame anyoneâs pride, he could admit to himself at the very least that RippleClan was doing well. Young apprentices proudly joined their mentors. Elders rested in the shade (although⌠was one of them wearing a ribbon collar? Did Fennelspot forget how a collar could choke a wild cat? Was this some odd new tradition the RippleClan founders invented?). It was, by every definition Darkkick knew, a true Clan.Â
A familiar ginger tom sat by a large rock near the shipwreck, slowly sharing a meal with a long-furred cream and white molly. Fennelspotâs gaze drifted over the returning patrol. At first, he glazed over Darkkick. Then he choked on his prey.
âFennelspot!â the young molly yelped. She patted Fennelspotâs back as the cleric collected his breath.
âDonât kill yourself on my behalf,â Darkkick purred as his escorts led him toward his old colleague.
âDarkkickâŚâ Fennelspot coughed.
âTroutpaw, can you leave us be for a moment?â Downstar asked the cream-colored apprentice.
âI havenât been a cleric in many moons,â Darkkick sighed. He couldnât stop himself from purring at Troutpawâs wide-eyed expression. âDonât tell me Iâm famous.â
âYou play a role in some of my motherâs stories about AshClan,â Puddlepaw said, shrinking slightly beside the black tom.
âHe flopped out of the river with a mangled tail,â Rustshade sighed.Â
âYes, Troutpaw, get a spot ready for our new patient,â Fennelspot gulped, taking the last bite of the roasted mouse.Â
âYes, sir,â Troutpaw said before dutifully bounding off to what Darkkick assumed was the medicine den.Â
âCome here and share tongues with me, you old fool,â Darkkick chuckled. Fennelspot touched noses with Darkkick.
âIf Iâm old, then so are you,â Fennelspot chuckled softly. He began to share tongues with Darkkick, grooming the remaining water from his fur. He licked blood off Darkkickâs tail as best he could. In between that grooming, he asked, âYou must have so many questions! So do I. Where have you been? Why come back after all these moons?â
âItâs more of a visit than a homecoming, Fennel,â Darkkick huffed. âI could use some help with these wounds I got.â
âYouâre going to leave again?â Fennelspot gulped, meeting Darkkickâs eyes.Â
âDo you really think Autumnstar will be pleased if you announce my arrival at the next Gathering?â Darkkick scoffed.
âAutumnstar has passed on,â Downstar explained, touching her tail to Darkkickâs shoulder. âAnd we donât care what AshClan thinks of us. They chose to exile you. Weâd be happy to take you in.â
âYour nest is ready, Darkkick,â Troutpaw called, sticking her head out of the medicine den.
âLetâs see how well youâve fared in all this sand, Fennelspot,â Darkkick muttered, trying to shake wet sand off his paws. His entourage followed him to the medicine den. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the shadows in the overturned boat. The familiar scent of concoctions and ointments and dried herbs threw him into the past, to days when he had an eager ginger apprentice and the respect of both AshClan and StarClan. Now he lacked both.
âFather?â The voice brought Darkkick back to the present. A brown molly, her back covered and restrained in a tight splint, stared at Darkkick with huge, owl-like amber eyes. Another gray spotted molly, this one almost the perfect reflection of Weedfoot, sat by her side, her conversation suddenly interrupted.
âFather?â Puddlepaw, Troutpaw, and the lookalike gasped.
âSpike,â Darkkick muttered. For a moment, he checked his daughterâs pelt for stars, wondering if she was some ghostly vision.Â
âDarkkick is your father?â Downstar asked, moving between the pair.
âYou broke your oath,â Fennelspot mumbled, his tall tail falling.
âThat oath became meaningless the moment I was exiled,â Darkkick snapped, sneering. Fennelspot quickly bowed his head. Darkkick collected himself, his half-wet fur weighing him down, and looked back at his long lost daughter. âLast I saw your mother, she told me you were dead.â
âI would have been without RippleClan,â the brown molly admitted. âItâs Spikecrash now though, Father. Iâve joined their ranks as a mediator. Palepaw here has been sharing some of her lessons with me.â
âWhy am I not surprised thatâs the name of one of Weedfootâs kits,â Darkkick sighed, purring as Palepawâs shocked expression grew. âDonât be so stunned. The relation is more obvious than a dog in a tree.â
âPuddlepaw, Palepaw, come outside with me,â Rustshade sighed with a twitch of his tail. âI can better explain whatâs happening.â Palepaw hesitantly slunk between Darkkick and Fennelspot as she joined her sister outside. The two littermates followed Rustshade to a quiet spot to talk.
âYour mother thought you had died,â Darkkick said, risking a step closer to Spikecrash. âShe⌠she was not well when I last saw her.â
âWe went to find her shortly after Spikecrash officially joined the Clan,â Downstar explained. âSheâs being cared for by humans.â
âYes, thanks to me,â Darkkick huffed, glaring at Downstar. âI took her. I couldnât stay to care for her.â Darkkick hissed as a sharp sting ran down his tail. Fennelspot had snuck behind him and rubbed an ointment on his tail.
âYou arenât sitting down, and we canât let you bleed all over the medicine den,â Fennelspot huffed, dipping his paw back into a small jar of ointment and continuing the process.
âPart of me is glad things happened this way,â Spikecrash admitted, her eyes softening as she watched Darkkick squirm. âFennelspot says my back is healing well. Mom is living with beings who can better care for her. I know we havenât spent much time together, Father, but we could grow closer as part of a Clan! You could meet Cinderellaâs kits, theyâve just been apprenticed.â Darkkick didnât answer. The medicine den felt too small. How could he stand under the gaze of his ancestors again when StarClanâŚ
âStay.â Fennelspot walked in front of Darkkick, placing his tail on Spinecrashâs splint. âIf not for her, then for us. RippleClan could use your knowledge in the medicine den.â
âIâm not a cleric anymore,â Darkkick huffed, his gut tensing at the very thought. He didnât want to look at the disappointment covering everyoneâs faces. He grit his teeth. He spoke to the ground. âIf you find yourselves overwhelmed, I can help treat patients, as I have been for years now. But if I join RippleClan, I am just a warrior. I cannot bear the clericâs name.â He locked eyes with Fennelspot (the shine in his old friendâs eyes made him want to groan from the sheer overwhelming sentimentality). âIs that understood?â
âWe can make it work,â Fennelspot promised. He once again touched noses with Darkkick. Troutpaw purred in the back at the sweet display.
âNow tell me,â Darkkick grunted, taking a seat in front of the daughter he thought dead as the others settled around him, âwhat in the name of the fourâ er, five Clans has happened while Iâve been away?â
Coyotestar padded through CraneClanâs territory quietly, the constant tug of sorrow in his heart growing heavy as he passed the river, the place where Quickkit and Cicadacurrent had died. He dipped his head at the running water.
It had been twenty-four moons since Fringepawâs death, and it still hung over Coyotestar like the moon - always watching, especially in the dark. Coyotestar had never felt so alone, in moments at his weakest, heâd thought he was the only cat left in the world.
When heâd caught whitecough, heâd had to hunt for himself whilst sick, and died quickly because of it. Sure, it was only one life, but it was still dying. Heâd seen Fringepaw, and a little bit of him had flickered with hope, but that had extinguished eight moons later, when heâd been hit by a monster crossing the Thunderpath.
Two moons later, he was covered in healing scratches and cuts, paws sore and stomach aching with hunger. Coyotestar wasnât used to living alone.
Maybe, he thought. Maybe Iâm supposed to die alone.Â
Over, and over, and over.
His thoughts were interrupted by a pitiful mew, and he turned to sniff the air. Coyotestarâs eyes fell to the ground by a push, where a small ticked brown and cream kit lay, thinner than a twig. He rushed to examine the kit, his eyes meeting its beautiful grey ones, although they were dim and almost life-less.
Wordlessly, Coyotestar grabbed the kit by its scruff and rushed back to camp. He placed the kit down in the medicine cat den, before grabbing a squirrel from the fresh-kill pile and pushing it to the kit.
The small creature ate quickly, clearly starving.Â
âWhatâs your name?â Coyotestar asked gently, and the tom-kit looked up at him.
âTempestkit,â he rasped weakly, coughing lightly at the end. Coyotestar flinched back from the noise, memories of Fringepaw doubled over with coughing bouts racing through his mind.
âWhereâs your family?â
âTheyâre all dead,â Tempestkit hiccuped, and Coyotestar moved to curl up around the kit. He licked his ear fondly, soothing the overwhelmed tom-kit.
âWould you like to join my Clan, Tempestkit?â Coyotestar asked, a gleam of hope in his heart.
The small kit nodded immediately, and Coyotestar felt a surge of happiness roll over him.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Carnationspeckle recovers from birthing strains. Fennelspot does his best to prop up Spikeâs body and feels growing concern at the rancid smell coming from the broken and twisted part of Spikeâs back.
[Image ID: Carnationspeckle sits in the back while Fennelspot looks after Spike. Under Carnationspeckle, it says - CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Under Spike, it says + INFECTION.]
Lavenderpaw was curious about Spike. Why wouldnât he be? Shadowdrop, who had only recently come back from his punishment for causing one mollyâs death, saves the life of another? A molly that most likely knew Cinderella? Lavenderpaw was no historian, but it was quite the story! Of course he wanted to know more!
Despite that curiosity, Lavenderpaw didnât get much of a chance to see Spike. Scrubmask loved to keep him busy. StarClan, that warrior was tighter than a leather strap! Every day, it was âLavenderpaw, hereâa why we patrolâ and âLavenderpaw, warriors help where neededâ, there was no time for fun! Lavenderpawâs littermates seemed to enjoy their apprenticeships. Palepaw learned from everyone she could about being a meditator. Wasppaw and Puddlepaw got to have fake arguments and pick apart famous trials of the past. Ripplepaw had a mentor that could interview ghosts! What could Scrubmask do? Snap at Lavenderpaw for humming?
Lucky for Lavenderpaw, his mother was deputy. While Weedfoot was still sick, she could boss cats around again. Thatâs how Lavenderpaw ended up Fennelspotâs apprentice for the day.
âBubblemoon and I are some of the only living clerics to have dealt with broken backs,â Fennelspot explained as he darted about the medicine den. âWeâll be talking at the half-moon meeting for a while about Spikeâs condition. I need to know that you can handle any sniffles or complaints the Clan may bring up while Iâm gone.â
âYouâve given me a lot of medicine to help,â Lavenderpaw said, eyeing the vast assortment of ointments and powders along the walls. âIf I have any questions, I can ask Palepaw.â
âAnd if itâs a true emergency, send Scrubmask to collect me,â Fennelspot reminded him. He placed a small jar into a leather pouch, tightened the twine around it, and slid it around his neck. âCarnationspeckle should be coming in sometime tonight for something to stop her milk. The kits stopped nursing a while ago, but Carnationspeckleâs still producing milk. I have a sage and parsley she needs to add to her next meal, give her the small pouch next to Spike.â Fennelspot and Lavenderpaw glanced Spikeâs way. The loner spent most of her days lying quietly in her nest, silently watching visitors or turned to the wall. The latter was true that day.
Lavenderpaw leaned close to Fennelspot and whispered, âShould I do anything with her?â
âJust keep your eye on her and get her anything she needs,â Fennelspot said. âSpike? Iâll be back early in the morning. Lavenderpaw will help you while Iâm gone.â Spike shifted her paw, the only sign she heard Fennelspot at all. Fennelspot sighed. He touched noses with Lavenderpaw and trotted out into the chilly winter sunset.
Lavenderpaw examined the den. Being cleric for a day would be fun! Just looking after the Clan, just like he already did. He had to admit, all the medicines were certainly interesting. He trotted up to Carnationspeckleâs prepared bundle and studied each herb and concoction. As his thoughts drifted, he settled on a song.
âCome join claw in paw, brave warriors all,
And rouse your bold hearts at fair libertyâs call;
No tyrannous acts, shall suppress your just claimââ
âOr stain with dishonor the dear Rippleâs name.â Lavenderpawâs head spun toward Spike.
âYou know The Movementâs Call?â Lavenderpaw gasped. Spike grew still. âDonât go quiet on me! I love The Movementâs Call! How does a loner know that song?â Spike sighed deeply.
âHelp me face you,â Spike muttered. Lavenderpaw bolted over. He carefully helped Spike stand on her front paws and, keeping her back straight with the brace, slowly spun her around. Lavenderpaw could smell the infection in Spikeâs heavily covered wound. He wondered if Spike could groom herself with her injury. Surely Fennelspot was grooming her. So why was her fur so rough and ragged below her wound?
Lavenderpaw set Spike down with a thud. Lavenderpaw flinched as Spike hissed.Â
âSorry!â Lavenderpaw gulped. âLet me find something for the pain.â
âNo, itâs fine,â Spike groaned, waving Lavenderpaw off. âIâll tell you if it gets worse.â
âHow do you know a Clan song?â Lavenderpaw asked, sitting beside the injured loner.
âBecause, long ago,â Spike sighed, âmy father lived in the Clans.â Lavenderpaw scooted closer. âI donât know what else you expect from me. He knew the song, so he taught it to me.â
âWho is he?â Lavenderpaw asked. âIs he still alive? What Clan did he come from? Were you coming to join us when the horse trampled you?â
âYouâre asking too many questions,â Spike huffed, her body tensing.
âYou turned to talk,â Lavenderpaw pointed out. His smugness was as strong as the horseâs blow.
âMy father is still alive,â Spike said, rolling her eyes. âHe and my mother raised me until I was six moons old, at which point he went back to wandering. He stops by our den a couple times each moon to see how my aunt, mother and I are faring. Were faring. Until my aunt got pregnant and started bringing back all these Clan teachings my father never thought to share with us.â
âCinderella was your aunt,â Lavenderpaw gasped. âWe thought you were related!â
âAnd now Iâm in the Clan that caused her death,â Spike muttered. She placed her head between her paws.
âIn our defense, Shadowdrop got Cinderella pregnant. We had nothing to do with it. We helped you, didnât we? We arenât so bad.â
âYou helped a dead cat. You have many skills in the Clans, but even you and your ancestors canât fix an infected spine. I donât get the dignity of dying around my kin, just like Cinderella.â
âYouâll see your parents again. I promise.â
âAnd who are you to make that promise?â Spikeâs cold eyes hardened Lavenderpawâs resolve.
âThe deputyâs son, thank you very much.â
âIs that supposed to impress me?â Lavenderpaw stuck out his tongue. For the first time since he met Spike, the injured loner chirped softly, whiskers twitching in a quiet mirth.
âOh, when my sisters were sick,â Lavenderpaw explained, âwe visited all the time to keep their spirits up. Fennelspot said it helped them recover faster. Maybe if we spend some time together, your infection might go away.â
âI donât believe thatâs how infections work.â
âPlease? I want to hear stories from a real loner, someone who knows what life is like out there right now.â Lavenderpaw couldnât help but wiggle his flank in anticipation. Spike sighed once more, stretching out the breath until Lavenderpaw thought he would explode from the wait.
âWhat else do you want to know?â Spike groaned.
âTruthfully,â Lavenderpaw chuckled, sitting in a loaf in front of Spike, âI want to continue singing The Movementâs Call with you. You have a good voice!â Spike rolled her eyes, but cleared her throat.
âIn freedom weâre born, and in freedom weâll live;
Our hearts are ready,
Steady, Friends, steady.â
(Lavenderpaw: 8, male, warrior apprentice, bold, likes to sing)
(Spike: 17, female, loner, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)
Scrubmask canât imagine what her life would look like without Downstar. They both spend time with Mosskit, who has greencough.
[Image ID: Scrubmask and Downstar face Mosskit, who has + CONDITION: GREENCOUGH written under him. Downstar says âTell us that story you were so excited about, Moss.â]
(Scrubmask: 59, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)
(Downstar: 101, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Mosskit: 3, male, kit, bullying, stares at fire)
Tempestkit disappears from camp as a blizzard begins to pick up. Downstar leads a patrol after the wayward kit.
[Image ID: A patrol marches through the snow. From left to right, the patrol includes Rustshade, Fennelspot, Wasppaw, Mousesong, Puddlepaw, Shadowdrop, and Downstar.]
---
Fennelspot predicted it the day before; a massive blizzard tearing into the territories, cursed by Stormfoots, those twisted Spirits of Shadow born from their namesake in the Dark Forest. Downstar was quick to act and ordered the caretakers to lead preparations around camp. She disappointed Wildclaw, who thought it meant reprieve from kit duty, when Downstar put her in charge of shoring up the nursery. Carnationspeckle worked with the artisans to find the best spot in camp for a bonfire; they would need the warmth. Clammask darted about, making sure everyone had a den to fortify or a job to do in prepping for the storm. Even James got off his lazy flank and helped out.
âIf we cook the prey we have into dishes like pemmican,â Downstar muttered, studying the fresh-kill pile, âwe can feed the Clan with well-preserved food throughout the storm.â
âDo you suppose it will be a long blizzard?â Weedfoot asked. Her voice was congested, the symptoms of whitecough still clinging to her pelt and slowing her down, but she could largely do her job now.
âThatâs what Fennelspot predicted,â Downstar sighed. âHe was right about the darkhound, so I assume heâs right about the storm. Wildclaw, where are you going?â Downstar looked over at her daughter, who walked with Trumpetkit and Tempestkit away from the nursery.
âMom, Iâm just escorting them to the dirt place!â Wildclaw groaned. âThe nurseryâs ready for the snow.â
âGood,â Downstar sighed, nodding as Wildclaw ushered the two black mollies around the shipwreck.Â
âYou seem more like yourself today,â Weedfoot hummed. âMore like you were when we founded RippleClan.â
âI work well in a crisis,â Downstar admitted. A snowflake danced over her whiskers, making her shiver.
âStarClan, the snowâs starting already?â Weedfoot groaned, looking up. âFennelspot said the storm would start in the morning. It isnât even sunset yet.â
âHurry, everyone!â Downstar yowled to the scurrying cats around camp. âWe have less time than we thought. Focus on the essentials. Rattlepelt, Rabbitjoy, Carnationspeckle, start cooking and make sure the fires are lit!â
âThe apprenticeâs den isnât ready for the snow,â Puddlepaw called, sticking his head out.
âYouâre sleeping in the nursery with the elders then,â Downstar barked. âIf the snow will be as strong as Fennelspot says, I donât trust the shipwreck to keep us warm. Weedfoot, get Oilstripe and Mosskit into the warriorâs den.â
A sudden caterwaul caught the Clanâs attention. It came from the dirt place.
âTempestkit!â Wildclaw yowled. Shadowdrop, who had been bundling leather pelts at the edge of the warriorâs den, bolted past Downstar. Downstar and Weedfoot joined him in the race to the dirtplace.
When the trio turned the corner, Trumpetkitâs tiny teeth were buried in Wildclawâs leg. The tip of Tempestkitâs tail slipped through the thorns that covered the top of the rocks, keeping the dirtplace separate from the rest of the world. Oilstripe had Trumpetkit by the scruff and finally pulled her off.
âTempestkit, get back here right now!â Shadowdrop roared. He soared onto the rocky border, but the hole in the thorn wall was only big enough for a kit; Shadowdrop stuck his paw through and frantically waved about, but Downstar could see Tempestkitâs fluffy pelt streaking toward the forest, snowflakes catching on her black fur.
âTrumpetkit, what are you doing?â Oilstripe snapped, throwing Trumpetkit down. âThatâs your aunt!âÂ
âYou nearly drew blood!â Wildclaw groaned, licking her back leg.
âTempestkit wanted to go on an adventure like Aunt Duskkit did when she was our age,â Trumpetkit whined. She sunk into the sand, big golden eyes bouncing between each panicked adult. âShe said if I distracted Aunt Wildclaw, sheâd bring me back a gift!â
âDuring a blizzard?â Weedfoot hissed. She looked between Trumpetkit and Tempestkitâs hole in the wall. Shadowdrop continued to frantically claw at the hole, as though if he stretched far enough, he would snatch Tempestkitâs tail. Shadowdrop screamed and jumped off the rocks.
âYouâve been staying in the den next to the dirt place for moons!â Shadowdrop roared at Oilstripe. âDidnât you see this hole in the wall?â
âI donât watch cats use the dirt place, Shadowdrop!â Oilstripe hissed. Downstar had enough of it. She raced back into the main clearing, where the Clan was nervously waiting to hear what happened.
âI want all our codekeepers with me, now!â Downstar yowled. âTempestkit has run off. We need to bring her back before the blizzard grows.â
âDoes that include our apprentices?â Rustshade asked as Mousesong shook out her pelt, ready to go. Downstar nodded. Wasppaw and Puddlepaw hurried to their mentors. Wasppaw stood proud beside Mousesong while Puddlepaw rubbed against his father, searching for answers in Jamesâ face.
âMom, Iâm coming with you.â Shadowdrop ran up beside Downstar, leading the rest of the crowd out of the dirt place.
âNo,â Downstar huffed. âTrumpetkit and Mosskit need you.â
âI am coming with you!â Shadowdrop snapped. âShe is my daughter, it is my responsibility to look after her.â Downstar hesitated. How responsible could Shadowdrop be when his kits came about from such a selfish act?Â
âOhâŚâ Downstar groaned, jaw tense, âWildclaw, donât let the other kits out of your sight!â Wildclaw stood to the side with Trumpetkit and Mosskit, who had stumbled out of the quarantine den. Wildclaw pulled them both close. âFennelspot, with us! The longer we wait, the further she gets!â Downstarâs patrol formed around her as she hurried out of camp. A cold wind ushered them out as the sky above darkened.
Fennelspot and Mousesong beat the patrol to the other side of camp where the dirt place wall gave way and Tempestkit made her escape. Mousesong sniffed the ground and growled.Â
âAll I smell is the dirt place,â she said, nose curling.
âShe ran that way,â Shadowdrop said, pointing his tail toward the forest.
âTempestkit!â Wasppaw called. âTempestkit, itâs cold out here! Itâs not that exciting!â Another sharp wind blew in Downstarâs face, sending a barrage of snow into her eyes.
âPray to our ancestors she has the good sense to turn around,â Downstar growled. âFollow her trail.âÂ
At their leaderâs command, the patrol charged into the growing blizzard, calling Tempestkitâs name.
(Wasppaw: 8, male, codekeeper apprentice, strict, interested in clan history, eye for detail)
[Image ID: Shadowdrop, Downstar, and Tempestkit cuddle close as snow falls around them and Downstar says âI will die as many times as I need to keep you both warm.â]
---
Tempestkit shouldnât have been far. She was still a kit, unfamiliar with the territory. The forest wasnât thick yet. Tempestkit should have been leaving the scent of the dirt place in her wake. But as sunset arrived, the snow grew thicker. Downstarâs paws grew numb. And the patrol was no closer to finding Tempestkit than they were when they set off.
Shadowdrop yowled as the thickening blanket of snow under his paws sent him tumbling forward. He smashed his chin against the cold ground. Puddlepaw and Rustshade helped him up.Â
âThis is ridiculous!â Shadowdrop groaned. âWhere could she have gone? How have we not found her yet?â
âItâs the Stormfoots,â Fennelspot gulped. He stared into the harsh blowing snow. âTheyâre hiding her in their snow. I just know it.â
âThey arenât taking my granddaughter from me,â Downstar hissed. âWe keep going. We donât go home until we find her!â
âThe snowâs starting to collect on the ground,â Puddlepaw pointed out. âWeâll start seeing pawprints sooner or later.â
âWe donât even know if weâre still following her,â Mousesong huffed.
âThen we split up,â Rustshade said. He glanced around and added âIf you were a kit on an adventure, where might you go?â
âI would go see the river,â Wasppaw said. âI was curious to see it when I was little.â
âYou didnât grow up with stories about your dead mom,â Mousesong grunted. âWouldnât you want to see her grave for yourself?â
âMaybe sheâs not thinking,â Shadowdrop said, casting a cold eye at Mousesong. âMaybe she just picked a direction and wondered what was out there.â
âFennelspot, I know what youâre going to say,â Downstar groaned, âbut I think we should split up.â
âThat is an awful idea!â Fennelspot gasped. âThe storm will only get worse. This is the sort of weather that gets cats killed!â
âAnd my daughter is out there,â Shadowdrop hissed, tail thrashing. âIf my mother thinks we should split up, Iâm following her.âÂ
âWe donât know where Tempestkit went,â Downstar reminded the group. âItâs more important to find her and make sure sheâs warm than worry about ourselves. This is what we train for.â Wasppaw nodded, gaining a second wind. Mousesong copied her apprentice, tail brushed against his side.Â
âHowlingwind, Celestial of snowfall, hear us o Blessed One and repel these Stormfoots from our shores.â Fennelspot squeezed his eyes tight as he prayed.
âFennelspot, take Wasppaw and Mousesong to the Great Northern River,â Downstar ordered. âRustshade, Puddlepaw, head south. Shadowdrop and I will continue west.â
âWe have to go back to camp when it gets too dark,â Fennelspot huffed. âI mean it, Downstar. We canât find Tempestkit if we freeze to death.â Downstar stayed silent as the snow tried to tear Fennelspotâs voice away. Shadowdrop curled into himself as he braced against the wind. His eyes met his motherâs. There was a quiet agreement no plea could break.
âBe quick, everyone,â Downstar ordered. âFind her!â Shadowdrop and Downstar joined each otherâs side and hurried against the screaming snow. From that moment on, they might as well have been the only cats in the territory.
If the situation wasnât so dire, Downstar would have thought the storm to be a beautiful thing. Soon the snow would drag the pine branches low and cover the ground in a white blanket that reached Downstarâs chest. But the storm had only been blowing for a short time. When Downstar ran over the snow collecting on the dead grass, she could once again see the grass through her pawprints. The dark trees were dusted rather than smothered. But the lack of thick layers meant nothing when the falling snow tore at Downstarâs eyes. She didnât feel when her paws hit the ground and her face was ready to fall off.Â
Downstar wasnât sure where they were in the territory. The snowfall turned the world white. Shadowdrop and Downstar scoured each area they found, calling Tempestkitâs name and searching in each little cranny. Sometimes Downstar forgot whether they had searched a certain bush or tree yet and Shadowdrop had to redirect her. She prayed it was her worry clouding her memory and not the freezing fangs of frostbite.
âPawprints!â Shadowdrop finally shrieked. âI found pawprints!â Downstar had been checking under a large exposed root when Shadowdrop called for her. Sure enough, there was a small trail of kitten sized pawprints emerging from a bush and hiking through the snow.
âTempestkit!â Downstar yowled, jogging alongside the tracks. Shadowdrop kept his nose to the ground, searching for a scent amidst the churning storm. The wind screamed and knocked Downstar off-balance. As she steadied her paws, she spotted a large stone jutting out of a gentle slope. A small hole broke through the haze of white that slowly turned black in the coming night. The fading pawprints led straight to it. Downstar shoved Shadowdrop and turned his gaze to the hole.
Downstar and Shadowdrop fought to squeeze inside. From the size of it, the hole may have been a fox den, although if it was, all trace of its creator had vanished. The more concerning feature of the den was the black kitten huddled in the back, shivering so hard Downstar thought she would hurt herself.
âTempestkit, what were you thinking?â Shadowdrop groaned. He wrapped himself around his daughter. Downstar suddenly realized that between all of Shadowdropâs new duties and the Clanâs effort to help Tempestkit and her siblings find their place in the Clan, she had never seen him properly curl up with his kits. It seemed natural for him. Heâd endured his punishment with dignity, he wanted to be a father. Perhaps Tempestkit noticed that. Perhaps there was more to her misadventure than following in the pawsteps of her long-dead aunt.
âIâm cold,â she whined, pressing into her fatherâs shoulder. Downstar licked Tempestkitâs fur the wrong way, trying to warm her up. She was so cold, she didnât feel alive.
âWe need to start a fire,â Downstar muttered, glancing out into the storm. The world suddenly turned a deep, unbreakable blue, shifting into dark grays in the snowfall.Â
âWith what?â Shadowdrop huffed. âEverything is wet. Mom, Tempestkit needs warmth. Come here. Please.â Downstar crawled beside her son and granddaughter. She pressed into both of their dark pelts and tried to pour what little heat remained into them.
âIâm ready to go home now,â Tempestkit muttered into her fatherâs fur. âI had my fun.â
âI donât think we can move,â Shadowdrop said. âI⌠I donât know where we are.â Downstar pushed her son closer. Shadowdrop nudged Tempestkit between them, giving her the majority of the extra warmth.
âWeâll sleep here tonight,â Downstar sighed. âIâll keep you both warm.â
âFocus on Tempestkit,â Shadowdrop huffed. âShe needs it more.â Downstar wrapped her front paws around Tempestkit, but squirmed closer to her son.
âI will die as many times as I need to keep you both warm,â Downstar promised.
The world screamed her to sleep.
(Shadowdrop: 34, male, warrior, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)
(Rustshade: 86, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)
(Wasppaw: 8, male, codekeeper apprentice, strict, interested in clan history, eye for detail)
(Tempestkit: 3, female, kit, troublesome, loves to eat)
[Image ID: Fennelspot looks up at smoke in the sky, saying âEveryone, follow the smoke!â]
---
Fennelspot ordered Wasppaw and Mousesong to head back to camp when Wasppaw reported an unshakable chill seeping through his body. Standing beside the freezing river, searching for a missing kit, would only tear apart their skin and hurt them more. They simply had to turn back. Rustshade must have had the same thought, as he and Puddlepaw were already home when Fennelspotâs group returned.
Downstar and Shadowdrop didnât come home that night.
âDownstar!â Fennelspot yowled, his voice muffled by the thick snow. âTempestkit!âÂ
The storm had finally subsided shortly before dawn, leaving the world smothered in snow. As soon as the weather cleared, Weedfoot picked a few well-rested trackers like Scrubmask, Halibutdusk, and Carnationspeckle and sent them back out with Fennelspot to find their missing Clanmates.
âYou said they went west?â Carnationspeckle huffed, breath frosting around her as she stood by Fennelspot.
âThe storm is over, why arenât they coming home?â Halibutdusk groaned from his lookout point on a low oak branch. âShadowdrop! Shadowdrop!â Scrubmask stayed quiet, focused on scenting the air.Â
âIâm going ahead,â Fennelspot sighed. âI need to pray. Yowl if you see anything. Downstarâs still alive out there.â That was an indisputable fact. The storm was strong, but not enough to take all of Downstarâs lives. Not yet, at least. Fennelspot had to hide his gaze, however, at the thought of Shadowdrop and Tempestkit.Â
The rest of the patrol kept calling out, but Fennelspot found a quiet spot under a pine. The weight of the snow dragged it off the branches, leaving huge, awkward piles around the trunk but bare needles above. The pine sat beside a small opening in the forest canopy, revealing a bright gray sky. Fennelspot closed his eyes. He had to keep his ears sharp. At a time like this, StarClan surely would not stay silent.
A storm within a storm gives the dark a chance to shine. Look to the sky for the call to action.
Fennelspot gasped, eyes fluttering. This was it! The moment of the prophecy! Tempestkit was the storm in the storm! Shadowdrop went to find her, he was the dark. The second half⌠Fennelspot locked his eyes to the gray clouds. The sky was still.
âIâm looking,â Fennelspot begged softly.
The color of the clouds shifted. A slimmer of darker color slipped into the corner of Fennelspotâs gaze. It rose into the high clouds. The aging cleric realized it wasnât just another cloud. His eyes could follow the trail back into the trees.
It was a smoke stack.
âThe smoke!â Fennelspot yowled. âEveryone, follow the smoke!â He didnât wait to see if the others head his cry. He ran into the trees, towards where the drifting smoke disappeared. His feet skidded in the fluffy snow and his legs had to push against its weight. As usual, Scrubmask was right behind him.
He saw the fire before he saw Downstar. It was a small fire composed of the barest of essentials. Heavy smoke drifted from the burning branches. Downstar had cleared away the snow around the fire and placed Tempestkit beside the flames. Downstar stared into the fire, unaware of Fennelspotâs arrival.
âDownstar!â Carnationspeckle dove through the snow, snowballs knotting in her leg fur. Downstar snapped out of it as Carnationspeckle wrapped herself around her former mentor. âStarClan, youâre so cold!â Fennelspot focused on Tempestkit. Somehow, the little kit didnât seem to have frostbite or any major damage from the cold.
âHave you been with her all night?â Fennelspot asked. Downstar nodded softly, her focus returning to the fire.
âIs Shadowdrop still with you?â Scrubmask asked. Downstar did not reply.
âTempestkit, how do you feel?â Fennelspot asked the young kit.
âLike Iâm in a lot of trouble,â Tempestkit gulped.
âWe kept her warm,â Downstar muttered. âWe kept her warm.â There was a den behind Downstar. Only two sets of paws left the den in the heavy snow.
âCarnationspeckle, care for Tempestkit,â Fennelspot gulped as Halibutdusk finally joined them.Â
Fennelspot slipped past Downstar. His nose quivered in the chill. He braced himself and stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusted to the light. Shadowdrop was still inside. He laid with his back to the exit, curled around cats who were no longer there.
He would not be joining his mother and daughter by the fire.
(Scrubmask: 59, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)
(Downstar: 101, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Tempestkit: 3, female, kit, troublesome, loves to eat)
Halibutdusk is grief-stricken at the loss of his brother.
[Image ID: Halibutdusk faces Downstar and Wildclaw. Under Halibutdusk, it says + CONDITION: GRIEVING. Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 6.]
---
Halibutdusk couldnât stop wondering; did his mother lose a life first, or did Shadowdrop growing cold push her over the edge? Who left their body first? Whose death resulted in the others? At least Tempestkit survived. At least he had that vague comfort.Â
Downstar called Halibutdusk and Wildclaw into her den while Fennelspot prepared Shadowdropâs vigil. The trio hadnât talked much since they brought Shadowdropâs body back to camp. Wildclaw had been busy reuniting Mosskit and Trumpetkit with their wayward sister, Downstar had to make sure the vigil went according to plan, and Halibutdusk⌠he couldnât really think.
When the two surviving littermates entered their motherâs den, Downstar paced around her nest. She showed no signs of the cold that stole one of her lives. Halibutdusk shifted awkwardly as he waited for Downstar to speak. Wildclaw beat him to it.
âThis is my fault, right?â Wildclaw huffed. âThatâs why you called me in here. I let Tempestkit get out of camp, and Shadowdrop died.â
âNo,â Downstar growled, clawing the ground at the very thought. âI will never blame you for this.â Wildclaw was stunned into silence. âI didnât punish Oilstripe for letting Duskkit sneak out all those moons ago. This is more Tempestkitâs fault than your own, and even sheâs realized what she did was wrong.â Halibutdusk distinctly remembered Downstar tearing into Oilstripe for letting her adventurous daughter slip around her, but Halibutdusk didnât have the heart to bring it up.Â
âThen what do we do now?â Wildclaw groaned.Â
âThereâs nothing to do, Wildclaw,â Downstar sighed. She sat in her nest. âWe just mourn. I brought you in here becauseâŚâ Downstar took a deep breath, closing her eyes and collecting her strength. âThere is a chance Shadowdrop⌠might not make it to StarClan.â Halibutdusk didnât know his heart could fall any further.
âWhy not?â Wildclaw hissed, the fur on the back of her neck prickling. âHow do you know?â
âDuskkit greeted me in StarClan when I lost my life,â Downstar explained quietly. âShe told me Shadowdrop would be put on trial when he entered StarClan for how he handled the situation with Cinderella.â
âWe already put him on trial!â Wildclaw snapped with a thrash of her scarred tail. âHeâs already been punished! Heâs done so much good, he doesnâtââ Wildclaw stopped herself, jaw tight. âIâm going out. Iâll be back for the vigil.â Downstar let her daughter go, leaving Halibutdusk standing alone before his mother.Â
Halibutdusk slowly approached his mother. Downstar scooted over. Halibutdusk slipped into the nest beside her. He pressed into his motherâs side.
âTheyâll let him into StarClan,â Halibutdusk gulped. âThey have to.â