#vulturetail

It was morning, and Mistface was leaving for the Vultures. He had tried to get Greyleaf to come with him to see Nettlecloud again, but Greyleaf was, as usual, busy – this time consulting with Redheart – so Mistface was already in a bit of a sour mood. Now, just as he took his first step out of the settlement, Laurelclaw had caught him and requested that he and the apprentice Littlepaw could go to see the Vultures too.

What was really annoying was that Mistface had managed to get himself looking forward to the quiet solo walk, only to have to shift again when Laurelclaw had explained the promise he had made (without Mistface's permission, mind). But, as he reflected on the submissive anxiety that Laurelclaw was exhibiting – kneading the ground, head lowered almost below Mistface’s height, tail curled against his side – he couldn’t help a bit of amusement as well.

“You’ll be in charge of her,” he said at last. “I ain’t botherin’ to converse with anyone but Mama today.”

Laurelclaw sagged with an exaggerated relief. “Thank you. I didn’t want to go back on my promise, is all, and, well-“

“Just go get her,” Mistface said, as patiently as he could. “I’ll be here.”

Laurelclaw relaxed even further and padded off to fetch the apprentice. When he returned with her, Littlepaw was bouncing with every step, fur fluffed out in excitement. She poured out her thanks to Mistface for letting her accompany them, so much so that Mistface had to gently interrupt her so they could actually get going.

The walk was better than he expected, at least; it was a good thing Littlepaw’s voice was pleasant to the ear, because otherwise her constant talking would have grated on Mistface's nerves. Laurelclaw took to his concession and kept up the conversation with her (and it was quite funny, when Mistface looked back, to see the giant of a white cat almost having to hunch as he spoke to the runt beside him). The two traded stories back and forth about their families, with Laurelclaw eventually taking up most of the talk to explain the Plage family’s lifestyle. Mistface was surprised to find himself listening in as he led the party.

“…and it is nice to see so many places,” Laurelclaw was saying, “but the constant walking can be a little tiring. But I wouldn’t want to miss swimming in the ocean or seeing the view from the Lighthouse.”

“How does no one drown swimming?” Littlepaw asked. “I’ve heard the water’s so powerful that it could knock a bear down. There’s… ‘waves’, I think they’re called?”

“The motion of the water can be a little strong, yeah,” Laurelclaw agreed. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, you could get carried out to sea. But I haven’t heard of anyone in recent memory drowning.” Unusually, there was pride in his voice. “We play in the tidepools the moment we’re able to walk, and we practice in the streams leading into the ocean until we become apprentices. It’s in our blood to swim.”

Littlepaw’s reaction was one of awe that Mistface barely registered. He caught sight of the Vultures all sitting together and eating, going by how they were seated. He couldn’t pick out his mother from this far away, so he said, “There they are” and sped up to a trot. Laurelclaw and Littlepaw hurried after him, conversation coming to a stop.

A dark brown molly was the first to notice them. Her mouth covered in rabbit fur, she waved with her tail and nudged a cat sitting beside her that she was blocking from view. A familiar grey head poked out from behind the molly and Mistface smiled as his mother’s dull eyes lit up. He smiled less as he watched her struggle to get to her feet and limp stiffly to greet him.

“Look at my little boy, makin’ friends,” she croaked, and even her voice sounded weak. “Laurelclaw, dear, it’s good to see you.”

Laurelclaw bent to touch noses with her as he approached. “Hello again, ma’am! How are you?”

“Never better,” Nettlecloud said, right as she visibly restrained a cough.

“Mama, this is Littlepaw,” Mistface said quickly, stepping out of the way to show the apprentice. “She came with us to learn from the Vultures for the day. Littlepaw, my mother, Nettlecloud.”

Littlepaw dipped her head respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello to you, little one.” Nettlecloud hobbled forward to sniff her. “And I do mean ‘little’. Is Laurelclaw your mentor?”

“Oh- no, I’m just-“

“It’s a long story,” Mistface said, shifting his tone – indiscernible to everyone else, but giving just enough of a hint for his mother to register and pull back.

“Well, no matter.” Nettlecloud gestured with her tail, sitting down where she was. “Come, come, we were finishin’ breakfast. Vulturetail, is there anythin’ else for them to eat?”

“I’m afraid we got the last of it,” the dark brown molly said, with the same clipped accent that Beetlefoot had. “But we’re always happy to have guests.”

“And we ain’t hungry anyway.” Mistface side-eyed Laurelclaw and Littlepaw, who got the message and hurriedly nodded their assent.

The starkly-striped ginger tom from their first visit swallowed his meal and stood up straight. “Here to 'learn for the day', eh? Not often that apprentices are interested in history.”

“Oh, I love all stories.” Littlepaw trotted a few steps forward so that she was talking to him directly. “History, fables, tales about the aspects, all of them. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear from the Vultures themselves!”

“Well, whatever you want to know, we’ve got someone here who can tell you about it,” the ginger tom said, looking pleased to have an eager audience (of just one, but still). “We’ve all learned about different parts of the Territory – probably more than the natives know!”

Littlepaw was, as a good listener should be, already enthralled. “How far back does it all go?”

Laurelclaw maneuvered past Mistface to sit with Littlepaw, while Mistface sat beside his mother.

“Before even the Union,” Vulturetail said. “Firestripe, you know about that best, don’t you?”

“It’s what I specialized in before I even joined the Vultures,” the ginger tom affirmed.

Mistface tilted his head. “We know about the Clans before ours, do we?”

“Of course!” Firestripe’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “Especially in the east. You wouldn’t believe how much the Brae cling on to the old stories.”

“I can believe it,” Vulturetail said dryly. “I was from there, you know. Half of the things they say aren’t true.”

Littlepaw’s tail bounced from side to side. “What were they? How many?”

“Five,” Firestripe said, then paused, saying under his breath, “Hang on, Mire, Cobble, Slope, Fell, Bluff-“ His voice raised again. “Yes, five. Some stories mix in the loners from the west into more, since they grouped up for a while. The amount of people I’ve heard say there were seven or eight Clans, I swear - it confuses everyone.”

“BluffClan’s members ended up becoming the Plage, right?” Laurelclaw said suddenly. “I remember being told we were originally the outsider’s Clan since we lived so far away from everyone.”

“You were also the ones to suggest the Union in the first place,” Vulturetail said. “Which didn’t go through until rogues got aggressive and attacked the four in the valley.”

“The Clans had to team up properly and fight as a single unit before the leaders agreed to formally blend together,” Firestripe added. “Not that it was too hard, since by that point everyone was already friendly with each other.”

The grey-brown-and-white molly, Minnowpounce, had been listening in silently as she ate, but now she lifted her head and spoke. “You missed the reason for that.”

“Oh, right.” Firestripe nodded and said to Littlepaw, “The Clans were fighting initially when they were created, but after a while StarClan came to exist with the power of belief and made their lives so much easier that it was preposterous to fight for land and prey.”

“Leaders didn’t even get nine lives until then,” Minnowpounce added.

Littlepaw’s eyes were sparkling and she leaned forward a little. “Is that when the Runagate first showed up?”

Firestripe faltered for a moment. “Well…”

Mistface’s eyes flickered skyward. He’d heard plenty of tales about it in his kithood – the devil that tried to tempt warriors away from the light and constantly tried to destroy the aspects and StarClan. The Runagate was a boogeyman at best, but for some reason cats got nervous at talk of the evil spirit.

“Does anyone know when it first arrived?” Littlepaw said, seemingly unaware of the sudden awkwardness. “I heard a story of it recently, and I was just curious. I mean, would it have reason to appear until then, if it's the enemy to StarClan?”

Nettlecloud purred a clunky, raspy purr. “That thing ain’t their territory of knowledge, dear. You’d want the Margays for that.”

The Margays, Mistface remembered, had been the ones to put on the story-show that Littlepaw must have been referring to. They had done a good job at making the Runagate sinister, as he recalled, but he hadn’t exactly been quaking down to his whiskers after that.

“Oh.” Littlepaw leaned back again. “Sorry, I thought you might know.”

“If I did, I’d tell you,” Firestripe said apologetically. “I just focus on history of the living, is all.”

“The next time the Margays come around, we can ask them,” Laurelclaw said to Littlepaw. “Or- well, you can ask- you know what I mean.”

Littlepaw nodded and turned back to Firestripe. “So how long ago was the Union? And how long did it take to get the Union started after StarClan came to be?”

Mistface tuned out as Firestripe got more comfortable and explained. He looked at his mother, noting that her fur seemed a little thinner than usual, and despite the warmth in them, her eyes were indeed dull - duller than they had looked from a distance.

“How are you feelin’?” he murmured in her ear.

Nettlecloud smiled sweetly and leaned against him. “Wonderful, now that you’re here. I hope Greyleaf comes again soon. Is he busy again?”

“Unfortunately.” Mistface sighed and returned the lean. “You look like restin’ hasn’t done you much good.”

Nettlecloud was uncharacteristically silent. He looked at her, unable to gauge her thoughts by her simplistically content expression.

“Mama,” he said. “Please don’t lie to me. How are you feelin’?”

Slowly, Nettlecloud’s eyes closed and her smile became a little more fixed. “I don’t know if there’s much time for me left, love.”

Mistface's front legs wobbled.

“If you can have Greyleaf visit again, at least once…” Nettlecloud turned her head to face her son. Her ears flattened just a little. “I miss him dearly, you know. And I want to talk to him before it’s too late. I know I don’t have it in me to make that walk with you.”

Mistface struggled to take a deep breath. “…I’m glad you ain’t tryin’ to strain yourself, at least.”

Nettlecloud hummed a reply, and it seemed like it took a lot out of her just to make that noise. With no one’s attention on her except Mistface’s, she looked more tired than he had ever seen her.

She spoke quietly. “I’m not afraid to die, don’t you worry. But Greyleaf never spoke to StarClan…” She let out a slow sigh. “If I don’t get to talk to him then, I need to now.”

Mistface’s eyes lowered and he nodded. Grief clawed at every muscle, almost pulling him to the ground. “He’ll come before it’s too late, I promise. If I have to drag him here, kickin’ and screamin’, I will.”