#yarrowshade

“Floodstrike!” she purred. “I was looking for you!”

“You were?” he asked, one brow rising above the other. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, settling down next to him. “Scorchplume said I had to go hang out with people my age and you’re the only cat here that I know.”

“I’m like six moons older than you,” he laughed. “I remember when you were born.”

Fogpaw rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, Slatepaw isn’t here and the EarthClan apprentices think I’m weird. Besides, we’re close enough. I like hanging out with you.” 

That managed to cheer Floodstrike up just a bit. “Yeah, I like hanging out with you too.” 

Fogpaw beamed. She ran her tongue over one bloodstained paw and started trying to groom the rest of the blood from her fur which was difficult, given how white it was. 

Floodstrike chuckled and started grooming his own pelt. “How are you doing? Like, with the battle and everything.” 

“I’m okay,” she said and seemed to mean it. “I’m really glad Scorchplume let me come help. It was kind of scary but also really exciting, you know?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, remembering the battle where Ospreymask had killed a cat right in front of him. How young and naive he was back then. “It can be a lot to get used to but you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Do you think I’ll get my warrior name for it?” asked Fogpaw. 

“I don’t think so,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re probably gonna stay an apprentice forever.”

“I’m serious!” she laughed. “I wanna be a warrior so bad!” 

“You’ll get there eventually,” he said, cuffing her ear lightly. “Just be patient.” 

“Floodstrike!” the call made him sit up straighter. Fishtrick came out of the crowd, her own white fur stained with blood and dusted with bits of straw. 

“Fishtrick!” he grinned and jumped to his feet. “How’s Boldmoth?” 

“Her leg is broken,” said Fishtrick with a wince. “Stormwhisper says we probably won’t have to amputate it but it's probably gonna heal crooked.”

“Damn,” he pursed his lips, ears wilting. “I’m so sorry. I was right there, I should have grabbed her.”

“You saved Erminepaw, didn’t you?” Fishtrick twitched her ear. “You can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed. 

Fogpaw inserted herself into their conversation. “If you want, I can give you a charm to help her leg heal properly!” Floodstrike tried not to wince. 

Fishtrick looked Fogpaw up and down with a scathing quirk of her brow and said, “A charm?”

“Yeah, like an item with a spell in it!” Fogpaw continued, seemingly unaware of the warrior’s disdain. “It’ll help the bones grow straight!” Fishtrick glanced at Floodstrike with a tiny laugh through her nose. 

“She’s just goofing around,” he covered for Fogpaw, wrapping an arm around her neck and giving the top of her head a ruffle with his nose. “Always telling jokes about spells and stuff.”

“No, I’m not,” Fogpaw frowned, throwing his lifeline away. “I’m serious, it’ll help.” Floodstrike wanted to scream. 

“I think I’m good,” said Fishtrick in a way that made Floodstrike's skin crawl with embarrassment. She smiled at him with a look that said ‘can you believe this?’ and he laughed instinctively. 

Fogpaw frowned and looked between them with an earnest, “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Uh, why don’t you go see what Branchbark is up to?”

“But I thought we were gonna hang out,” she said, ears falling backward. 

Floodstrike was acutely aware of Fishtrick’s eyes on him as he replied. “Yeah, well, now I wanna hang out with Fishtrick. I’ll hang out with you later.” Even as he said it he felt guilt wriggling in his stomach and Fogpaw’s pained frown only made it worse. 

“Okay, fine,” she said, stepping backwards out of his embrace. “I didn’t wanna hang out with you anyway.” Floodstrike had to clench his jaw to stop himself from apologizing right then and there. Fogpaw turned away and stormed off into the crowd, hunched low, tail twitching. Once she was out of earshot, Fishtrick laughed. 

“Wow, some cats just can’t take a hint,” she said and the guilt in Floodstrike’s stomach writhed. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed. “I guess.” He would have to apologize to Fogpaw later. 

Fishtrick was already moving on. “Did you hear the kittypets are bringing catmint?” 

“No,” he said, frowning in confusion. “What for?” 

“For fun,” she said. “Like, just to roll around in.”

“Woah, no way.” He couldn’t believe it. His dad had always been so precious with the stuff. The idea of using it so casually was alien to him. 

A sudden cheer went up from the southern edge of the crowd and they both turned their attention towards the sound. 

“That must be them,” Fishtrick sat up taller, grinning. “Come on, let’s go get some!” 

“Okay,” Floodstrike said. He still felt hollow aside from the guilt in his belly but he was willing to try and have some fun. Sticking close to Fishtrick’s tail, he followed her through the gathered cats, weaving through the gaps wherever they could until they hit the thick wall of bodies at the front of the crowd. They could smell the heady smell of the catmint now and the kittypets who had brought it. 

The cats closest to them were eagerly waiting for a chance to move forward but, with his height, Floodstrike could see cats peeling away around the edges of the crowd like water parting around a stone. Their eyes were all blown wide and their energy was higher, more unruly. Excitement started to build in the hollow space within him. 

A cat at the front of the crowd caught his eye and he said, “No way, is that my dad?” 

“Where?” Fishtrick reared up on her hind quarters to follow his gaze. 

“There,” he said, leaning in to point with his nose. “It totally is!” There was Oddstripe, laughing with a face covered in catmint particles. Aldertail was leaning heavily on him as they made their way deeper into the clearing.

“Damn!” laughed Fishtrick, dropping back onto her paws. “Get it, Floodstrike’s dad!” He laughed at her phrasing and shoved her with his shoulder. 

“Don’t be weird,” he said, “He’s still a healer.”

“So?” she flicked her tail in his face. “Everyone knows Stormwhisper broke the code with somebody, what’s stopping your dad? It’s not like he’s never fooled around before.” She jerked her nose at him as if to say ‘you’re proof of that.’

Floodstrike grimaced. “Do not make me think about that.” 

“About what?” she smirked, “about your dad getting all hot and heavy with some handsome stranger?” 

“Stop!” he nearly gagged, “What is wrong with you?” She laughed heartily and he couldn’t help but join in. 

“I’m just teasing, Floodstrike, loosen up! You’re too easy!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

By now they had reached the front of the group and the smell of catmint nearly burned his nose. There were several kittypets, each with their own little pile of it, making sure that everyone got a good roll but didn’t take more than their share. Floodstrike recognized Wes and Schmidt among them but the rest were all strangers. He and Fishtrick shuffled towards a kittypet with a similar pattern to Fishtrick’s -- all white with a rich, chocolate tail -- a flat nose, and a cobby build. 

She waved them forward with a wide grin and said, “You two look like hell!” Floodstrike didn’t know what ‘hell’ was but he glanced down at himself regardless, suddenly reminded of all the blood in his fur. 

“The curse of a white pelt,” Fishtrick laughed. 

“Wish I’d been there!” the kittypet sighed wistfully. “I’m Binx, by the way.”

“Cool,” Fishtrick said in the same voice she had used with Fogpaw. “Can we get some catmint now or…?”

“Oh! Right!” Binx shook her head with a bashful laugh and swept a paw invitingly over the buds spilled out before her. “Help yourself!” Fishtrick glanced back at Floodstrike before flopping onto her side to roll in the herbs indulgently. 

Floodstrike felt awkward just staring at her so he met Binx’s eyes again. “You fight much, Binx?”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “I want to though. I think it’s so cool that you wild cats let girls fight just like boys.” 

“City cats don’t?” he asked with a frown. He went over the battles he had seen in his mind, thinking, surely that can’t be true, and realized with a sudden shock that he hadn’t fought a single female kittypet since they ambushed the hunting encampment. 

“Not really,” Binx shook her head. “You’ve really got to prove you’re tough for anybody to respect you as a fighter if you’re a girl.”

“Weird…” Floodstrike’s gaze fogged distantly only for Fishtrick to startle him out of his thoughts with a playful swat to the face. 

“Floodstrike, you’ve gotta try this!” she said, her pupils big and round. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, giving her a shove and she batted at him until he surrendered and dropped into the catmint. The smell was intoxicating and he quickly lost himself to the simple pleasure of rolling back and forth in the little pile. When he finally remembered himself and sat up, he shook his head sharply.

“Woo!” he cried, a laugh burbling in his chest. 

“What did I tell you!” Fishtrick grinned. “Come on, I bet you can’t catch me.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he smirked, dropping into a crouch in preparation. 

“Yeah.” She dashed around the edge of the crowd, heading for the Cornerstones themselves and he tore after her, laughing. 

Over his shoulder, he distantly registered Binx calling, “O-okay, bye!” 

He wasn’t concerned about that for long though. He felt intensely alive, like he could run to the city and back without stopping, like he could catch a hundred mice or jump the river in a single bound. Fishtrick seemed to feel the same and she led him all the way up the Cornerstones to the top of the leaders’ perch. He pounced for her tail as they reached the summit, giddy and out of breath, and she sprang back at him, knocking them both off the back side of the structure. 

“Woah!” he cried, twisting to land on his feet and she landed right behind him. 

“Fox-dung!” she hissed under her breath, “I think I twisted my paw.”

“Oh, yikes,” he grimaced and leaned in to sniff at the ankle she held tenderly by her chest. “You need to go home?”

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head. “It's fine. Let’s just take it easy for a bit.” 

“Alright,” he nodded, “fine by me.” 

Another cheer came from the crowd on the other side of the Cornerstones and Snowstar’s voice barely carried above the din. “Eat your fill! Tonight it’s all on SkyClan!” The crowd cheered again, louder this time. 

“That must be Fernspeckle with the prey!” Floodstrike said. 

“Oh, I’m starving,” moaned Fishtrick. “Let’s go get some.” He nodded and they made their way back to the throng which was now clustered tightly around a cluster of SkyClan cats. Eventually, they bumped into Fernspeckle who had a patch of cobwebs over his eye and a heavy perch in his mouth.

“There you guys are!” he grinned, “I was just coming to find you!”

“Give me that!” Fishtrick purred hungrily and snatched the fish’s tail in her teeth, shaking her head and swatting at his face to make him let go. Floodstrike laughed and flopped sideways against her, too overcome with enjoyment to stay upright. 

Fernspeckle dropped the fish with a mildly concerned smile. “Woah, what’s gotten into you two?” 

“Catmint!” Floodstrike grinned, licking the dust of it from his whiskers. “You should try some.” Fishtrick pulled the perch close to her chest and started greedily picking its flesh from its bones, unconcerned with the mass of cats shifting around her. 

“What,” Fernspeckle laughed, “you guys steal some from Stormwhisper while Boldmoth was getting patched up or something?”

“No,” Floodstrike shook his head, “the kittypets brought a ton for everyone!”

“Really?” Fernspeckle’s jaw hung open in surprise. 

“Yes,” Fishtrick said after gulping down her mouthful of food. “Southern side. Go get some.”

“Fox-dung, okay,” Fernspeckle said, backing up towards the southern side. “Save some of that fish for me!”

“No promises!” Fishtrick shouted after him and Floodstrike snorted with laughter, dropping down to have a few bites of his own.

It wasn’t long before Fernspeckle returned and the three of them started reducing the perch to bones in earnest. Floodstrike had never laughed so much in his life or felt more like he belonged than he did in that moment. He wished that Boldmoth could have joined them but knew that navigating the crowd would likely have been a nightmare for her broken leg. 

He was about to suggest they go visit her when a new voice called his name over the noise of the crowd. 

Gaping, he turned and said, “Luna.” There she was, trying to smile at him despite her obvious nerves. She held one paw close to her chest, glancing this way and that whenever a cat bumped against her or spoke too loudly. Floodstrike blinked a few times, trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining her.

“Who?” Fishtrick yelled, trying to hear him over a group that had started singing nearby. 

“Uh,” that galvanized him into action, “guys, this is Luna!” He hopped up and moved to bump his forehead against hers in greeting. Luna smiled and pressed herself against his side so tightly he could feel her heart thumping madly against his ribs.

“There’s so many cats here,” she said, barely audible above the noise. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked at an appropriate volume as he guided her back over to sit with him and his friends. 

Luna cleared her throat and stood up taller as if she had to in order to raise her voice. “I wanted to see you!”

“Oo-ooh!” Fishtrick taunted and Fernspeckle joined in. 

“Shut up,” he laughed, smacking Fernspeckle hard in the face. He rolled away from the strike and swatted lazily back at Floodstrike. 

“Wow,” Luna breathed, “you wild cats are so rowdy!” 

“You kittypets are boring,” Fishtrick snapped back and Luna’s silky soft fur fluffed up around her. 

“Luna,” Floodstrike said, hoping to move past that, “this is my friend Fishtrick. That idiot there is Fernspeckle.” 

“Who you calling an idiot?” Fernspeckle frowned jokingly. 

“You, moron!” Fishtrick rolled her eyes and swatted at him. Floodstrike laughed, settling down onto his side. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Luna said politely, still struggling to raise her voice. 

“How did you two meet?” asked Fernspeckle.

“She was there when we went to find Songdust,” said Floodstrike as he laid his tail gently against hers. Luna blushed and preened under the touch, sinking down to lay against his side. He purred, struck with how amazing it felt in that moment. He even leaned over to rub his head against hers. 

“Wow,” Fishtrick grinned impishly, “you RisingClanners sure love your kittypets, huh?” 

“Do not,” Floodstrike blurted immediately, then, remembering Luna, added, “I mean- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fernspeckle laughed outright.

Grinning smugly, Fishtrick sing-songed, “Floodstrike and Luna down by the river, give ‘em two moons and she will deliver!” 

“What are you saying,” Floodstrike blustered, ears pressed back against his head. Was that a common song in EarthClan or was she just loopy on catmint?

“You know what I’m saying,” she said, leaning in with a snarky wobble of her head. “First Russetfrond, now you. Stars, Goldenstar’s got her own kittypet too, doesn’t she?” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Floodstrike dismissed her with an annoyed flick of his ear. 

“Isn’t that weirdo, Fogpaw, half-kittypet too?” she pressed. Floodstrike’s stomach dropped into a pit of guilt again.

“No, just half-city cat,” Fernspeckle said, squinting as if he was thinking very hard. “They’re not all kittypets.” 

“Guys, stop being horseflies,” Floodstrike said, wanting to squirm. “We’re just friends.” 

“Oh,” said Luna, sounding like she was trying to sound unconcerned. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re just friends.”

That caught Floodstrike off guard. “Oh, are we- Did you not-” He searched her face, suddenly worried he had been a jerk and she waved him off with a paw, blushing shyly.

“Oh, no, no, it’s- it’s fine I just thought, since we were having kits together, you know-”

“We’re what?” Floodstrike gaped as his friends hollered wildly at his expense.

“Yo!” Fernspeckle bellowed, holding back laughter.

Fishtrick cackled and rolled onto her back, pointing a vindicated paw at Floodstrike. “What did I tell you! They’re crazy for kittypets out there!” 

Floodstrike tried to tune them out as he asked Luna, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded and they both stood. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said distractedly to his friends, wrapping his tail over Luna’s back to guide her away. 

“Don’t take too long!” Fishtrick jeered.

“Or do!” snorted Fernspeckle. Floodstrike ducked his head, cheeks burning, and shoved his way through the crowd until they broke out into the chilly woods. 

Luna spoke first. “Oh, Floodstrike, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t how I wanted to tell you, I- I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much!”

“It’s- It’s fine,” he said, trying to force his racing mind to focus on her face. “But, wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, pursing her lips against the smile spreading across her face. “Isn’t it wonderful?” 

That hadn’t exactly been his first thought. “I- yeah, I guess so- I just- I feel like-” Like she was springing this on him? Like they had both understood that they were just friends? With a sinking feeling, he realized that he had never had that talk about expectations with her like Goldenstar had suggested. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me.”

“You didn’t?” blinked Luna. “I thought I was being pretty obvious.” She pouted and dragged her paw through the pine needles on the ground despondently.

“Well- I mean,” Floodstrike blushed and smoothed his chest fur down with his tongue, “I knew you wanted to have sex with me, I just didn’t realize you wanted more than that.” 

“Well, of course I do!” Luna looked hurt. “That’s what sex is for, isn’t it? Having kits?”

He puffed up at her tone, extremely confused. “I thought the twolegs- err, your Folk took them away! It’s not like we’re going to raise them together.” 

“It’s still a big commitment!” she said, eyes big and round and glistening with the start of tears. “You made me a woman, you’re supposed to take care of me now!” 

“I what?!” He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement. 

“I thought you were honorable,” she sniffled. “I didn’t think you were some- some ruffian who would use me up and leave me behind!” She was starting to cry now, her expression crumpling with despair and he stepped in to rub his head against hers despite his confusion. 

“Hey,” he said, “I’m not trying to abandon you or anything, I’m just confused, okay?” She pressed her head firmly against his, seeming to take comfort in his touch which was a relief. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she sniffled wetly.

“It’s alright,” he sighed. After another moment he sat back and said, “I’m gonna go grab Goldenstar real quick, okay?”

“Goldenstar?” she sniffed hard to pull a bead of snot back up into her nose. “Wh-why?” She fluffed up again, looking suddenly very worried and he shook his head to reassure her.

“No, it's okay, we’re not in trouble or anything, she’s just really good at this kind of stuff -- talking about it I mean -- and I think she’ll be able to help us like… actually communicate, y’know?” 

“Okay…” Luna nodded slowly. She was definitely unsure but Floodstrike was certain that bringing Goldenstar in on the conversation would make everything so much easier. 

“Just stay right here, I’ll be back in a flash.” He gave her one more firm press of his head and then bounded back towards the crowd to try and find Goldenstar. It took a bit of time, some asking around, but he eventually found her lounging near the area where the catmint had been given out with Scorchplume, Yarrowshade, and a pair of kittypets, including Wes. The other was a chocolate tortoiseshell who seemed to have fallen asleep. 

Goldenstar was purring loudly against Scorchplume’s side as Floodstrike approached, Yarrowshade flopped against hers. He almost felt bad interrupting them but he knew he needed her help right now. 

“Uh, Goldenstar?” he asked, hovering closeby. “Can I borrow you for a little bit?” 

Goldenstar paused her purring to sit up and stare at him. It took a long beat before she managed to speak. “Oh, Floodstrike. Sure, what’s up?” She stood, dislodging Yarrowshade who moaned in protest, reaching out for her with his forepaws. 

“It’s Luna,” he said, “she came to see me and I, uh, need your help talking to her.”

“Luna?” Wes’s ears perked, his expression suddenly focused. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“Um, it’s complicated,” he said, shuffling his paws. “It’s about the stuff we were talking about earlier?” He winced at Goldenstar, hoping she got the message. 

She seemed to, understanding dawning in her massive pupils. “Oh. Alright, sure. I’ll be back in a bit, guys.” 

“Aww, okay,” Yarrowshade pouted, scooting to snuggle up against Scorchplume instead. 

“You big baby,” Scorchplume shoved half-heartedly at his face. 

“I’m comin’ too,” Wes said, rising to his feet. “I need to make sure Miss Luna is okay.”

“Okay,” Floodstrike said, his mouth suddenly very dry. “She’s just out behind the cornerstones right now.” Wes started off towards the forest immediately and Floodstrike glanced at Goldenstar worriedly before hurrying after. 

When they arrived, Luna flushed with embarrassment. “Wes! What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were here,” he said, moving to sniff at her. “Is everythin’ alright?”

“It’s fine,” she said, clearly still a bit upset from earlier. 

“What did you need my help with?” Goldenstar asked Floodstrike, blinking sluggishly at him. 

“Well, you know how you said I ought to talk with Luna about, like… expectations and things?” he said. “I kind of… forgot. And now we’re kind of talking past each other and I thought you could help.”

“Expectations?” Wes frowned. 

“Yes,” Goldenstar nodded, “for their relationship.” She seemed mildly disappointed and Floodstrike felt his shoulders sagging apologetically. 

“Their relationship?” Wes repeated again, this time sounding suspicious. 

“Mhm,” said Luna. “Floodstrike and I are mates now.”

“What?” Wes looked at her in shock before he quickly pivoted to fixing Floodstrike with a stern glare. 

“That’s the problem,” Floodstrike said, “I thought we were just friends!”

“But we-” Luna pouted on the verge of tears again. “We were… intimate. Just friends don’t do that!” She blushed again, glancing at Wes. His presence seemed to be extremely uncomfortable for her. Wes scowled at Floodstrike as if he had threatened her.  

“Sure they do,” Floodstrike felt extremely confused again. 

“I think I see the issue,” Goldenstar sighed. “The city has very different ideas about intimacy than we do so you both have very different understandings of what it meant when you had sex.” Luna blushed brightly at the phrase. 

“Miss Luna,” Wes said, “if this young man took advantage of you-”

“No, no!” Luna shook her head fervently, “It was my idea, I promise!” She reached up on her tiptoes to try and get onto Wes’s eye level. “I practically had to beg him, please don’t be mad.” 

Wes frowned, his eyes twitching over her face for a good long moment before he sighed and said, “Alright. I just wish you’d thought about this more. This kinda thing, it has- it’s not to be done lightly.” 

“So, Luna,” Goldenstar cut back in, trying to smile invitingly, “I’m gonna start by asking you about what you think your relationship with Floodstrike means, then I’m going to ask him what he thinks. I want you both to try not to interrupt the other while they’re talking. I’m going to help you sort things out once you’ve both had a chance to talk, okay?” 

“Okay,” Luna nodded, chewing her lip. Floodstrike nodded too, trying to take a deep slow breath. Goldenstar was here. It was going to be alright. 

“Great,” said Goldenstar, settling down and curling her tail over her paws. “So tell me, when you imagined how things would go, what did it look like?”

Luna sniffled and shuffled her paws and said, “Well, I mean, I thought he was going to be there for me, like a proper mate, especially since… um…” She glanced sidelong at Wes with big wet eyes. 

“Since…?” Goldenstar prompted. 

“Since I’m… well…” Luna looked away, blushing again. 

“Pregnant,” Floodstrike said, just wanting to get this awkwardness over with already. Wes’s scowl darkened again. 

“I see,” Goldenstar frowned too. Now it was Floodstrike’s turn to wilt in shame. “When you say ‘a proper mate’ what does that mean to you?”

“I don’t know,” Luna shrugged defensively, “He’d bring me food, protect me, we’d be best friends. And I’d raise the kits and support him.” She shrugged again. “And, I don’t know, maybe he might eventually come to live with me and my Folk.”

That hit Floodstrike like a monster. “What?!” The idea was borderline offensive! “I’m not gonna be a kittypet!” Luna’s lip quivered and Wes laid his tail protectively over her back, still scowling. 

“Floodstrike, let’s calm down a bit, okay?” said Goldenstar. “Why don’t you tell me what you were picturing?”

Floodstrike shrugged. “Uh, I don’t know,” he said, looking guiltily at Luna, “I thought we were just having fun. I didn’t realize it was, like… serious.” 

Wes sighed. “These things are very serious, son.” Floodstrike balked at the term but Wes continued. “It ain’t honorable to take advantage of a lady like that.” 

“But I didn’t take advantage of her!” he protested, “She said so already!” Goldenstar laid her tail over one of his paws but it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting worked up. How was he the bad guy here?

“You might not have meant to,” said Wes, “but usin’ a girl for pleasure and then leavin’ her t’deal with the consequences on her own, it ain’t right.” 

“Like I said,” Goldenstar seemed to be making an effort to stay the calm one in the situation, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. In the Clans, there’s no shame in having casual sex like that, especially not shame that falls more on any one gender. Plenty of cats raise kits on their own and are happy to do so. Stars, Ospreymask has been trying to get pregnant for moons and she’s never had any interest in a long term partner.”

“Well, that’s swell for her,” Wes said, starting to bristle, “but it ain’t like that in the city. Havin’ kits is a commitment. Cats who fool around are…” he stopped himself, as if he’d just remembered Luna was listening to him. “It’s irresponsible to treat somethin’ so sacred as a… a cheap thrill!” He twitched an ear to shake off the idea which had clearly unsettled him. 

“Sacred?” Floodstrike was even more confused now. 

“Yes, sacred!” Luna sniffled, “It’s a holy bond! A gift from the Folk!”

“That’s crazy!” Floodstrike laughed in disbelief. 

“Floodstrike,” Goldenstar didn’t manage to interrupt him in time and grimaced. “Let’s be respectful. Clearly this is very important to them.” 

“It is,” sniffled Luna. “I thought you were gonna take care of me a-and our kits!”

“And I’m sure Floodstrike is very sorry that he didn’t communicate his intentions clearly from the start, right?” Goldenstar looked back at him with a prompting nod. 

“Yeah,” he said, feeling like a leaf drifting down the river. “I’m really sorry, Luna.” 

“But you’re not going to step up and do the right thing,” Wes said, a statement more than a question. 

“The ‘right thing’ is subjective,” Goldenstar frowned. “If there’s something specific that Luna needs, maybe Floodstrike can help with it, but he shouldn’t have to commit to a relationship just because he got her pregnant.” 

Luna started crying again and Wes pulled her close against his side with a defensive glare at the Clan cats. “I’m disappointed in you,” he said, “both of you. I thought you were better than this.”

“Floodstrike was careless,” Goldenstar said firmly, “but he isn’t being cruel. Relationships are messy. It’s an unfortunate situation but you can’t expect him to agree to a commitment he didn’t realize was expected of him.” 

“I guess not,” scoffed Wes. “Come on, Miss Luna, let me walk you home.”

“O-okay,” Luna cried into his shoulder, staring at Floodstrike with the most miserable expression he’d ever seen. Despite Goldenstar’s insistence that he wasn’t doing anything wrong in the moment, his stomach still writhed with guilt like he’d swallowed angry snakes. Goldenstar let out a disappointed sigh as the two kittypets disappeared into the undergrowth. 

“I’m sorry it went down like that, bud,” she said. 

“It’s my own fault for not talking about it beforehand,” he sighed. 

“Well, she should have done the same,” said Goldenstar. “You share the blame equally and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it. They’re making this into a way bigger deal than it has to be.” 

“Why, though?” he looked at her with pleading eyes. “Why are they so… weird about this stuff in the city?! First they have rules about only being mates with ‘opposite genders’ and now they’re acting like we broke some kind of code just because I don’t wanna become a kittypet or whatever!” 

“I don’t know, bud,” sighed Goldenstar again. “They’ve got some… complicated traditions, to be sure. Come on, let’s go back to the celebration. You’ll feel better when you’re with friends.” 

Floodstrike hesitated. “I dunno. Fishtrick and Fernspeckle are gonna tease me so bad. I think I’m just gonna go home.” 

“If you’re sure…” she said with a sympathetic smile. 

“Yeah, I am,” he said. The break in festivities had left enough room for thoughts about Lakepaw to slip back into his mind and the idea of going right back to pretending like everything was fine just felt wrong. 

“Alright,” she said, rubbing her nose against his ear. “You let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.” He took the long way around the crowd, tail dragging in the dirt. The laughter and celebration around him only served to make him feel more alone. He had no doubt Fishtrick was going to tell every cat she could about the news. He wanted to peel his skin off in embarrassment. 

And he wanted to make Luna understand that it was gonna be okay. He didn’t want her to think of him as some kind of deadbeat like Ghost. He liked her! He just didn’t like her enough to be exclusive or anything. Was that so wrong? Should he at least try it, for her sake?

The thoughts were clouding around his head as he walked through the ferns until a voice shook him from his stupor. 

“Floodstrike? Why are you sad?”

He looked up to find Fogpaw trailing after him. “Oh, uh…” He swallowed and said, “I dunno. Lots of reasons.”

“Oh.” Fogpaw said. There was a pause, then, “Do you want me to walk with you?” 

“Yeah,” Floodstrike said, realizing he did as he said it. He stretched out his tail in invitation and she trotted quickly to affix herself to his side. 

“Man, when did you get so big?” he groaned. 

“I’m almost twelve moons old!” she laughed. “Why does everyone keep forgetting?” 

“‘Cause we don’t wanna think about how old we’re getting.” 

“You’re not that old,” she scrunched her nose in confusion. “You’re barely half a year older than me.” 

“Ew!” he groaned even louder. “Don’t remind me!” 

She laughed again and rammed her head against his shoulder fondly. They walked in silence for a moment, the noise of the celebration fading behind them. 

His smile faded too and he eventually managed to say, “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier, with Fishtrick. I shouldn’t have sent you away.”

“Why did you?” she asked quietly. 

“‘Cause…” How could he say this without hurting her feelings? “‘Cause I’m dumb and I didn’t want you to embarrass me in front of Fishtrick.”

“Why would I embarrass you?” she frowned. 

He grimaced again. “I dunno, Fishtrick just likes to laugh at people and I didn’t want her to laugh at me because I’m friends with you.”

“But why would she do that?” Fogpaw pressed. “Is that what was funny before? Were you guys laughing at me?” 

“Yeah,” he said and cleared his throat to try and get rid of the lump in it. “I’m sorry, Fogpaw. That was fox-hearted of me.” He couldn’t look at her, only on the stones that were starting to replace the undergrowth as they neared the river crossing. 

After a long quiet moment, she said, “It’s okay. I forgive you.” 

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid,” she huffed and he laughed again. 

“Maybe not technically,” he said, “but you’ll always be younger than me and that makes you a kiddo.”

“That’s dumb,” snorted Fogpaw. “If I’m a kiddo, then you’re an elder.” 

“Ew! Do not call me that!”

“Whatever you say, old man,” she smiled innocently and he shook his head with laughter.

“Dammit, your mentor taught you too well.” 

“I told you,” Scorch had purred smugly. “It’s better this way.” She and Goldenstar had snuggled up immediately and he had gladly curled up against Goldenstar’s flank to enjoy the warmth and the rumble of her purr. They had talked with Fawn and Wes about everything and nothing until Fawn fell asleep and Floodstrike had come and pulled Goldenstar and Wes away for some sort of emergency. 

Yarrowshade had wriggled up against Scorchplume and to his surprise, she had allowed it. 

“Mm,” he had sighed, “you’re warm.”

“You’re dumb,” Scorchplume had giggled. 

“Did you just giggle?” he had asked, lifting his head to look at her. 

“Maybe,” she’d huffed, running lazy licks down her chest fur. 

“I like it,” he’d purred. “It’s cute. You’re cute.” 

“Gross!” she’d laughed, putting a hindpaw up to push his face away. “Stop flirting with me! I’m taken!” 

“Who’s flirting?” he’d protested. “I’m not flirting. Are you flirting?” 

“I’m not flirting,” she had said, placing an affronted paw on her chest. “I never flirt.”

“Liar-,” he’d gasped. 

“How dare you?” 

“You are such a liar!”

“You can’t prove anything,” she’d shaken her head and wrapped her paws around his neck to hold him close. He’d wriggled even closer to her beating heart and purred loudly. 

“That’s alright,” he’d concluded. “I still like you even if you are a filthy liar and a flirt.” 

She’d rolled her eyes and sighed, “Ugh, I can’t believe I love you.” 

And then, before he could process what was happening, she had lurched to her feet, dropping him into the dirt unceremoniously, and said, “I, uh, I have to go. I’ll be right back.” 

And so, now, there he sat in total confusion, watching as her tail disappeared quickly into the woods. What had just happened? Yarrowshade frowned at the woods for a long minute, then groomed his ears for a lack of something better to do. 

Eventually, Goldenstar returned, without Wes or Floodstrike, looking tired. When she spotted him, she asked, “Where’d Scorch go?” and furrowed her brow in concern.

“No idea,” he said, “We were just joking around and then suddenly she jumped up and ran off like she’d seen a ghost.” 

Goldenstar’s tail tip began to twitch as she stepped up close to him. “What were you joking about?” 

“Uh, she giggled and I said she was cute and then we were like, ‘I’m not flirting, you’re flirting’ and I called her a liar and we were like ‘that’s okay, I love you anyway,’ and then bam, she was gone. Dropped me right in the dirt.”

“Weird,” Goldenstar rumbled uneasily. “I’m gonna go see if I can find her.”

“Should I come?” he asked, already starting to stand. 

“Maybe?” Goldenstar shrugged. “It’s hard to know with her.” She flattened her mouth in a half grimace. 

Yarrowshade pushed himself up against her side and said, “Come on, let’s go get her.” 

Together, they padded out into the woods where she had disappeared, leaving the party noise behind. Despite his worry, Yarrowshade couldn’t help but notice how peaceful and serene the forest was that night. It was kind of amazing, how every bush he passed instilled a sense of awe. Even the act of following Scorchplume’s scent felt profound, like how special was it that he was capable of doing such a thing? He considered mentioning the thought to Goldenstar but she seemed very concerned and he didn’t want to look stupid.

Besides, she was probably concerned for good reason. Scorch’s scent only got more and more distressed as they walked and the path led them aimlessly into EarthClan’s territory instead of back towards the border. 

“Something’s definitely wrong,” said Goldenstar. “What could have spooked her so badly?”

“I don’t know,” Yarrowshade shook his head. “I didn’t see anything.” To be fair, he hadn’t been paying much attention. He racked his brain for something he had missed and came up short. 

It wasn’t much longer until the scent trail led up into one of lower-hanging trees where a ginger tail could be seen trembling against the brittle, brown leaves. Goldenstar glanced at him, then hopped up into the nook where the trunk forked in two. 

“Scorch?” she called softly and Scorchplume gasped in fright, nearly launching herself out of the tree. Yarrowshade’s stomach lurched as she scrabbled back onto the branch, leaves rattling. The fear scent was powerful, even from the ground. 

“Scorch, what’s wrong?” Goldenstar asked. “What happened?” 

Scorch shifted her weight on the branch, swallowed thickly, and said, “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean it, I promise-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Goldenstar soothed, starting to make her way onto the branch. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for! It’s okay.” Yarrowshade followed her to the tree trunk to try and get a better look at Scorch’s face. She was crying, eyes red and puffy. She looked at him and seemed to search his face as if he held the answer to some sort of desperate question. He frowned worriedly. 

“Are you alright?” he asked stupidly. “Did something happen?” 

Scorch’s brow furrowed as well. “You… you didn’t hear me?” 

Yarrowshade squinted in confusion. “Hear you say what?” 

Scorchplume held her breath and glanced at Goldenstar warily. There was a long beat of silence, then Goldenstar gasped in realization and Scorch flinched at the sound. 

“Oh, stars, you said you love him,” Goldenstar said. “Were you afraid I would be angry with you?” Scorch swallowed and lowered herself against the tree branch which was answer enough in itself. 

“Wait, what?” Yarrowshade blinked. “Why would she be angry about that?”

“I… I don’t know,” Scorchplume said, glancing away, but it didn’t sound genuine. 

“Because-” Goldenstar hesitated and looked at Yarrowshade for a beat. “Because you didn’t mean it in a friendly way, did you?” 

Yarrowshade felt like he’d been slapped by a fish. “What?”

“I didn’t mean it at all,” Scorch said with a swish of her tail. “It was just the catnip talking.” 

“Hey,” Goldenstar climbed further up into the tree, lowering her voice, “it’s okay if you did. You know that, right? I’m not going to be mad if you have feelings for someone else. I’m not like Razor, I’m not gonna punish you or anything. You’re safe.” 

Scorch couldn’t seem to look her in the eye, couldn’t seem to find the words to respond. Goldenstar slowly made her way up to where Scorch was perched and gently pressed her nose to Scorch’s ear, finally pulling her out of the shell she had withdrawn into. Scorch closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, looking pained. 

“I’m sorry,” Scorch breathed miserably. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Goldenstar purred reassuringly. “You’re just scared and that’s fine. It’s not your fault he was terrible to you.” 

Yarrowshade still couldn’t process what was happening. Did Scorchplume really have… feelings for him? A dizzying rush of butterflies came up through his stomach at the thought. Every interaction with her in the last few months was suddenly filtering through his mind in a new light. How long had she felt that way? How many signs had he missed?

After a moment more of quiet whispering, Goldenstar and Scorch turned back to look at him and he focused suddenly. 

“Hey,” he said, then kicked himself. ‘Hey?’ That’s what you went with?

“Look,” Scorch said, turning away uncomfortably, “I didn’t mean to… I don’t even know if ‘love’ is the right term, it just… slipped out.”

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, “We don’t have to talk about it, we can just-”

“No, no,” Scorch sighed, “It’s… it’s fine.”

“Just to be clear,” cut in Goldenstar, “I’m totally fine if we’re not exclusive. If you wanna pursue any kind of relationship with Yarrowshade, you have my blessing. I mean it.”

Scorchplume shook her head. “I don’t know what I want. Everything is so fucking confusing now -- after him, I mean… I never used to struggle with this stuff before.” She gave herself a few licks over her shoulders to try and lay her fur flat and Yarrowshade winced in sympathy. He could tell it was really bothering her, the lack of knowing. 

“That’s alright,” Goldenstar said, twining tails with her. “You don’t have to know. Why don’t we go back to camp? It’s been a long day for everyone, I think.” 

“Alright,” sighed Scorchplume tiredly. “That’s probably for the best.” With a few quick hops, they came down from the tree together and joined Yarrowshade near the roots. 

“You should probably check with Russetfrond before you disappear,” he said to Goldenstar.

“Mousedung, you’re right,” she grumbled. “Do you wanna wait here or…?” 

“I want to go back to camp,” Scorchplume groaned. 

“Alright,” Goldenstar nodded and gave her a few licks to wipe the tears from her face. “I love you. I’ll catch up with you in just a sec.”

“Mm,” was all Scorch said, leaning into the touch. 

“Do you want me to come with you or should I go back to the party?” Yarrowshade asked. He definitely didn’t feel like he had the right frame of mind to go back to the party but he wanted her to have the choice. He could always wait for a few minutes and then head home on his own. 

“I don’t care,” Scorch shrugged, tossing her head and running a paw over her ears. “You’re an adult. Do what you like.” 

Goldenstar gave Yarrowshade a look over Scorch’s shoulder, something between pity and frustration. He offered a lopsided smile and a shrug in response. 

“Well, I’d like to walk back with you, if that’s okay,” he said. 

“Sure,” she glanced cooly at him, clearly trying to feign indifference, and he couldn’t help but sigh. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Goldenstar said and gave Scorch a gentle headbut before she took off briskly towards the Cornerstones. Scorch stood still for a beat and then turned and headed into the woods without a word. Yarrowshade huffed another sigh and hopped a step forward to catch up with her. 

“Hey, look,” he started awkwardly, “I… I know this is complicated but can we talk about… y’know?”

Scorch side eyed him coldly before returning her gaze to the path ahead. “There’s nothing to talk about. The catnip made me say things I didn’t mean, end of story.” 

“Can you stop lying to me?” he scowled. “Like, I get it? But it’s not helpful.”

Scorch’s whiskers twitched and she opened her mouth for a second before shutting it firmly. He had a feeling that whatever she had stopped herself from saying would have been cruel. Maybe he was pushing too hard. 

“Sorry,” he sighed again. “I just… I didn’t realize you felt that way.” 

“I don’t,” Scorch growled through gritted teeth. “Can we please just drop it? It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.” She closed her eyes, looking like she had a terrible headache. 

Yarrowshade’s ears fell backward. “Alright,” he said tiredly. Maybe he ought to go back to the party. He knew in his head that this was more about her and her damage than it was about him but it was hard not to feel like her shame was because of some fault of his own. 

“I think I’m gonna go back to the party,” he said eventually, slowing his pace. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I just don’t get it,” Goldenstar sniffled pitifully. “It’s like she was trying to hurt me and I don’t know why.” 

Yarrowshade sighed and there was the sound of someone rustling moss as they shifted their weight. “I think she’s probably just… scared.” 

“Of what?” Goldenstar asked, her voice cracking. “That I’ll love her?” 

“I mean, yeah,” said Yarrowshade. “She’s not used to it. It can be kinda scary when someone tells you they care about you no matter what.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Goldenstar whined, echoing Fogpaw’s thoughts. 

“I know,” Yarrowshade sighed again. “It doesn’t make sense to Scorch either. She just knows that she feels cornered by something she doesn’t understand and she has to deflect.”

“How do you know, though?” 

Silence hung in the air for a moment. “‘Cause I’m the same,” he eventually said. “When Nightfrost died and people would try to comfort me, I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. Trying to make me feel better makes me think about how bad I feel and that sucks. I try to make jokes and get out of it and I think Scorch gets mean. I don’t know why, but she does.” 

Goldenstar sniffed wetly. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “It must be awful.” 

“It is what it is,” he said. “She’ll come back, Goldie. Just let her have some space so she feels less cornered and then you’ll both work it all out, I just know it.” 

Fogpaw had heard enough. Careful not to make a sound, she backed out of the den and looked around to make sure she hadn’t been seen. The camp was empty except for Pantherhaze who sat on watch with his back to her. Fogpaw lowered herself to the ground and moved silently out of camp in the direction of the city. 

Eventually, she found Scorch’s scent where it split from Goldenstar’s. 

“She’s heading for the desert…” Fogpaw mused aloud. “That’s not good.” Picking up her pace, she bounded after her mentor’s trail, trading stealth for speed. 

In the early days of her apprenticeship, Fogpaw had regularly heard Scorchplume threaten to leave for the desert if anything went wrong. It was her way of trying to convince cats that things were serious, that she really was leaving this time. Eventually Fogpaw had stopped believing her when she said it. If she was upset enough to actually follow through, that meant she was really unwell. Plus, the coyotes and their spellcraft were out there. She had to find Scorch and fast. 

The trail was easy enough to follow, at least. It cut straight through the grass towards the East and there wasn’t evidence that Scorch had been moving that quickly. After nearly half an hour, Fogpaw spotted Scorchplume’s tail lashing through the grass ahead of her. 

“Scorchplume!” she called, sprinting the final stretch towards her mentor, “There you are!” 

“Fogpaw!” Scorchplume bristled as she spun to face her. “What are you doing out here!?” 

“I came to find you,” said Fogpaw. “It sounded like you were upset and I wanted to help.” 

Scorch glared at that, her eyes flashing. “I told Goldenstar I’d come back on my own time.” 

“Well she didn’t tell me that,” Fogpaw said, a little annoyed that Scorch expected her to follow rules she hadn’t been told. “She was too busy crying. You really hurt her.” 

“Good,” snapped Scorch, tossing her head haughtily. “She was getting too comfortable.” 

“Stop that,” Fogpaw glared back at her. “You don’t get to say nasty things to people just because you’re scared.” 

Scorch scoffed and lashed her tail. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re my apprentice.” She bared her teeth as she said it, stretching her claws into the dirt. 

“So?” Fogpaw pressed. “Just ‘cause I’m your apprentice doesn’t make me wrong. There are still rules, Scorchplume. We still have to be kind to each other.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Scorchplume snapped.

“You’re scared ‘cause Goldenstar loves you,” Fogpaw continued. “It makes you wanna run away so you say mean stuff and hope she’ll run away from you but you don’t actually want her to stop loving you. You want to feel safe.” 

Scorchplume’s entire pelt was standing on end, her eyes prickling with tears that glistened in the moonlight. “Shut up!” she hissed. “You don’t know anything about me!” 

“Yes I do!” Fogpaw took a step forward, blinking slowly. “You’ve been my mentor for moons and I’ve been watching! And you’re just like me, you’re angry and you’re sad and so you want to rip everybody apart! You almost can’t help it, right?” 

Scorch’s chest was trembling. After a delay of a beat too long, she seemed to remember herself and rolled her eyes, looking away. Fogpaw stepped closer. 

“You don’t want them to hurt but you want to hurt something and it takes you over,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’ve been there. It’s really scary! But you don’t have to do it alone, you can talk to somebody about it and it will help.” 

Scorch scoffed again. “You’re wrong. I’m not like you. I’m like Ghost. I hurt people and I like it.” 

“But he doesn’t like it,” Fogpaw said, realizing it was true as she said it, “he just doesn’t know how else to be.” Maybe Scorchplume was like Ghost. Maybe she was too… “But I can help you find another way to be. I want to help you, Scorchplume.” 

“That’s your problem,” Scorchplume snarled, rounding on her, “you and Goldenstar both! You think I’m some project -- some broken thing you can fix! But I’m not fixable!” 

“You’re not broken, Scorch,” Fogpaw said. “You’re just scared. And you’re alone. And I can help you be less scared and alone.” She closed the last of the distance, butting her head firmly into Scorch’s shoulder and purring as loudly as she could. Scorch tried to pull away but she reached up and wrapped her paws around her mentor’s neck, moving to rub her forehead underneath her chin. 

Scorch stiffened as if holding still would get Fogpaw to let go but she persisted. After another long beat, Scorchplume’s chest deflated in a sigh of defeat and she slumped against Fogpaw. Fogpaw squeezed her tighter and she sniffled miserably.

“I am broken,” Scorch said quietly. “I don’t know why but every time I smell something that reminds me of Razor or something touches my scruff, I panic and I can’t do anything right. I can’t even think straight! I let my guard down with Goldenstar and now I can’t put it back up.”

“That sounds really scary,” said Fogpaw in the same quiet tone. “Is that why you got mad at her?”

“Kind of,” Scorch said, trying to pull away again. This time, Fogpaw let her, satisfied that she had been comforted by the hug. Scorch continued, “I did something very reckless in the city. It paid off, but everyone was furious with me, especially Coyotechaser and Orangestar. Goldenstar tried to talk to me about it but I… I don’t know.” She sniffed again and looked away.

“It’s okay,” Fogpaw said, offering her a warm smile. “You don’t have to know.” 

Scorchplume huffed a laugh through her nose. “How dare you be so mature. I’m supposed to be the adult here.” 

Fogpaw snorted. “I’m almost twelve moons old, y’know.” 

“Ugh, really?” Scorch wrinkled her nose in distaste. “No, that’s not allowed.” 

Fogpaw shrieked with laughter. “Not allowed?!”

“You heard me,” Scorchplume puffed herself up in the way Fogpaw knew meant she was joking, “Stop aging immediately or I’ll put you on permanent tick duty.” 

“No way,” Fogpaw snickered. “I just won’t do it. What then?” 

“Ah, you’ve found my secret loophole!” Scorchplume cried in mock despair. “I guess there’s nothing I can do.” Fogpaw giggled and butted up against her, rubbing her body down Scorch’s whole flank until she had turned around so they were side by side. 

“Let’s go home,” she said softly.

Scorch frowned. “I don’t want to. Goldenstar will be furious with me.” 

“No, she won’t,” Fogpaw jostled against her side. “You know she won’t. When has she ever been furious with you?”

Scorch chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed, “You’ve got a point, I guess.” 

“Come on,” said Fogpaw. “We’ll do it together. It won’t be so bad.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Scorch grumbled and Fogpaw couldn’t tell if she was serious. Still she shoved Scorchplume to her feet and started herding her back towards camp. 

“Were you really going to the desert?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” Scorchplume shook her head. “I was tempted at least.” 

“I wonder what it’s like out there,” Fogpaw hummed, craning her neck to peer over her shoulder. 

“Dry,” Scorchplume shrugged. “Probably cold.” 

Fogpaw wasn’t really listening. She’d slowed to a stop, her eyes glued to the large shape staring back at her with big eyes full of moonlight. 

“Scorchplume,” she whispered, “is that what I think it is?” Scorch turned to look and gasped. 

“A coyote,” she breathed, pelt fluffing. “It must be.” The air prickled with energy. Fogpaw swore she could feel some kind of force connecting her with the beast. 

“We need to go,” Scorchplume hissed. “Now.” As if it could hear them, the coyote started loping in their direction. It didn’t slink or stalk, it didn’t run or chase, it just loped. Its movement struck Fogpaw as intensely open and inviting. 

“I think it’s friendly,” she said, unmoving. 

“What?!” Scorchplume bristled. “It is most certainly not friendly! Come on!” She had begun to back away, staying low to the ground, hidden among the grass. Fogpaw took a step towards the coyote. 

“Fogpaw, this is serious,” Scorchplume snapped. “That thing will kill you! We need to leave right now!” 

“Hello?” Fogpaw called to the coyote and Scorchplume made a strangled noise in her throat. 

A beat later, a voice called back, “Hey-lo.” 

“Did you hear that?” Fogpaw felt a rush of static prickle through her pelt from her toes to her ears. “It can talk!” 

“That’s great,” hissed Scorch, “now it can tell us exactly how good we taste. Come on!” The coyote was close enough now that Fogpaw could smell it. It towered over her, twice her height with big pointed ears trained on her position. 

“Are you friendly?” Fogpaw called back.

“Friendly?” it echoed, cocking its head. “Yes. Friend. Friendly. Good friend.” It stopped about a fox-length from them and cocked its head the other way. 

Fogpaw reared up on her hind legs to get a good look at it. 

It was almost like a cat but leaner and more rigid looking, all stiff angles and pointed edges. Its fur was a ticked kind of grey and white with ginger points, the strangest pattern she’d ever seen on a creature. Its muzzle was long and terrible, the kind of thing that sent instinctive spikes of fear through her belly, yet its expression seemed curious and open. 

She was entranced. 

“My name’s Fogpaw,” she said in a hushed tone. The coyote sniffed at her. 

“Na-ame,” it sing-songed. 

“Fuck me,” groaned Scorchplume. 

“Yeah,” Fogpaw purred. Placing a paw on her chest, she said again, “Fogpaw.” 

“Frog-paw,” it tried and she giggled. 

“Not Frogpaw, Fogpaw! What’s your name?” 

The coyote tried to place a paw on its own chest with its long, stiff looking legs. “Hui-che.” 

“Huiche?” Fogpaw repeated.

The coyote shook its head. “Hui-che,” it said again, its voice lifting melodically. “Hui-che.” 

“Oh,” Fogpaw’s eyes widened in excitement. “You have to sing it?” She tried to mimic the exact cadence and pitch it had used. “Hui-che?” 

The coyote grinned with its mouth full of teeth and sing-songed something she didn’t understand. It seemed like a good something though. 

“Fogpaw, I don’t trust this thing,” Scorchplume growled warily, her fur standing on end in a ginger cloud. 

“Friend,” sang Hui-che. “Hun-ting.” 

“See?!” Scorchplume hopped backward. “It’s hunting us!” 

“You don’t know that,” Fogpaw frowned over her shoulder. When she turned back to the coyote, it had advanced two steps, its toothy maw parted to drink in her scent. Fogpaw’s tail bristled automatically and Scorch swore again. 

“Hun-ting, friend,” it sang again. “The rotting touch-ing.” 

“The what?” Fogpaw asked, swallowing her fear. 

“The rotting touch-ing,” it yipped. “Touch the rotting here.” Fogpaw scrunched her nose in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” she shook her head. 

The coyote frowned and gave a high pitched growl, sniffing at the grass around them. With one paw, it started to scrape at the ground. Fogpaw’s stomach fluttered when she realized it was drawing shapes. 

“Is that magic?” she asked a bit louder than she meant to. 

“Magic!” the coyote’s eyes flashed up at her for a split second grin. “Rotting magic touch-ing here. Good touch-ing. Hunting it.” 

At this point, Scorchplume had started to creep back towards them, her neck craned to carefully observe what it was doing. Fogpaw smiled at her and wrapped her tail around Scorchplume’s leg reassuringly. 

“You’re hunting the magic?” Fogpaw asked.

“Yes!” nodded Hui-che. “Good, rotting magic. Strong touch-ing here.” 

“Rotting magic?” Scorchplume curled her lip in disgust. “Of course a coyote is looking for rot.”

Hui-che’s yellow eyes snapped up and fixed Scorchplume with a predatory stare that unsettled Fogpaw. It sniffed at her with its big, black nose and grinned. Fogpaw instinctively shoved herself between the two of them.

Hui-che stood up to its full height and cocked its head again, sing-songing to itself in its own language. 

“I won’t let you hurt her,” Fogpaw declared, baring her teeth. Hui-che frowned curiously at the display.

“No hurt,” it yipped, bowing down until its chest touched the ground. “No hurt. Friend! Good friend.” 

“Fogpaw, we’re leaving,” Scorchplume said, backing away. 

“Yeah,” Fogpaw said slowly, “okay.” She wanted to stay and ask the coyote more about the rotting magic but it was getting to the point where even she couldn’t deny the warning signs. 

Still, she said, “Goodbye, Hui-che.” 

The coyote frowned but didn’t lunge for them, only went back to scratching runes in the dirt. Fogpaw and Scorchplume backed away until they had a few fox lengths of space in between them and the coyote and then they slank quickly back to camp. 

“That was farther in the territory than last time,” Scorchplume said as they walked. “I don’t like how close it was. Next time you need to listen when I tell you to run, okay?”

“If we’d run, we wouldn’t have learned about the rotting magic, though!” Fogpaw protested. 

“We learned nothing,” Scorchplume hissed, “And besides, if it had decided to attack you there’s nothing we could have done. You need to trust that I know what I’m doing.” 

“Why can’t you trust that I know what I’m doing?” whined Fogpaw. “I’m not stupid, Scorchplume.” 

“Mm,” was all Scorch said. 

Fogpaw frowned but stayed quiet. She had had a very stressful night and, even in the best of times, Scorch wasn’t very trusting. 

“Fine,” Fogpaw sighed. “Let’s just go tell Goldenstar what happened and then you can apologize.” 

“Right,” Scorchplume grumbled. 

“It’ll be okay,” said Fogpaw. “Just tell her how you felt and say you’re sorry. She’ll understand.” Scorch grumbled again, sounding unconvinced. 

Fogpaw didn’t quite understand why Scorch didn’t believe that Goldenstar would be understanding. She understood and she didn’t understand anybody! Surely, Goldenstar would get it right away. Maybe it was something about Scorchplume instead? 

But what did she want? 

The question shouldn’t have been so perplexing but, for some reason, she couldn’t easily find the answer. She wanted Goldenstar, that much she knew, wanted things to stay the same between them. What she had was good, even when she was sinking into paranoia. And she wanted to stay friendly with Yarrowshade. He was her first friend in the Clan, the cat who understood her the most. She didn’t want to lose that. She didn’t want things to change between them. 

Or did she? She had been feeling drawn to him more and more, pushing down strange, affectionate impulses for a few weeks. Their strangeness lied in how completely non-sexual they had been. She was starting to come to terms with her reawakening libido even if she hadn’t been brave enough to actually indulge it yet, but she had no idea what to do with urges to snuggle and twine tails. With Goldenstar, they made sense, she was doing what her partner expected of the relationship, but to have the urge for someone else completely unprompted? It made no sense. She’d never experienced that kind of thing before. 

Interrupting her swirling thoughts, Goldenstar yawned and stretched out over her hind quarters before slumping down against her side again. Scorchplume turned to look at her and found her smiling back. 

“Morning,” croaked Goldenstar in a voice scratchy from sleep. 

“Morning,” hummed Scorchplume, one side of her lips twitching upward in a brief, half-hearted smile. 

“You okay?” asked Goldenstar, shifting into a more upright position, propped up on one elbow.

Scorchplume shrugged. “I guess so.”

“D’you wanna talk about last night?” 

“Not really.” She let her gaze drift back to the ceiling of the den and sighed. “I wish I could just go back and undo it all.”

“I’m sorry.” Goldenstar adjusted herself to face the other way so that Scorchplume’s head was framed perfectly between her forelegs. She gently traced one paw back and forth over the curve of Scorch’s shoulder as she said, “You really didn’t do anything wrong, though. You’re not gonna get in trouble for saying how you feel.” 

Scorch rolled her eyes shut. “I know that now,” she said, irritation with herself creeping into her voice, “It’s more that Yarrowshade’s gonna be all weird around me now and I don’t want to deal with it.” Not only that, but she was going to feel weird around him too.

“Ah…” Goldenstar frowned sympathetically. 

“Like, I can’t unsay that,” continued Scorch, eyes open. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, it just… slipped out.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” laughed Goldenstar, “you have a crush. That’s completely normal.”

Scorch growled in frustration and flicked her tail. Still, here in this quiet, tender moment, insisting that she had no feelings at all felt… harder than it had last night. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she grumbled. “Things get too complicated. I get fenced in. It’s better to just… mess around with whoever, no strings attached.” 

“Well, if that’s what you really want, you can do that,” Goldenstar said. “What’s stopping you?”

“I-” Scorch sighed, no answer coming to mind. “I don’t know. Nothing works the same as it used to. I hate it.” She groaned and rolled over into a sitting position and Goldenstar wasted no time in grooming the side of her neck. She sighed into it, closing her eyes as she tried to let herself enjoy the pressure against her pelt. She took a slow, deep breath -- let it pull her back to the edge of sanity. 

“Change is scary,” Goldenstar said between strokes. “But I feel like things are better than they used to be, aren’t they? Relationships are a lot of work but they’re also really rewarding. Maybe you should try them.” Scorch twitched her tail. 

“As if I haven’t been trying since newleaf,” she scoffed. 

“And?” Goldenstar leaned around to look her in the face. There was a bit of a flirty glint in her eyes but she did seem genuinely open to hear the answer, whatever it was. 

“And I’m terrible at them!” Scorch groaned, shifting to look at her head-on. “I get cornered, I snap, I panic over the smallest things. It’s a nightmare.”

“But that’s not relationships,” Goldenstar shook her head, “that’s all the shit Razor did to you hanging around like burrs in your fur.” 

Scorch grimaced at his name and shook her head to look at the wall. “Well, Razor’s dead. I shouldn’t constantly feel like he’s haunting me.” 

“Why not?” shrugged Goldenstar, licking her cheek. “That stars-damned fox-heart hurt you bad. Wounds take time to heal, even if you can’t see them.” 

“Ugh,” groaned Scorch. “Stop being so understanding. Why can’t you just tell me to shut up and we’ll be done with it?” She flopped backwards against Goldenstar’s side and shut her eyes tightly. 

“Becaaause,” Goldenstar sing-songed, “I loooove you.” She nibbled at Scorch’s neck teasingly and Scorch couldn’t help but laugh and squirm. 

“Stop it!” she squealed, pushing Goldenstar away until she relented. 

Purring, Goldenstar rubbed her temple against Scorchplume’s and said, “It’s true though. I love you, Scorch. I want you to be happy. If that means you get with Yarrowshade too, then so be it.” She curled her tail around Scorch’s flank and pressed a short lick to her head. 

“You make me sick,” joked Scorchplume to avoid giving a real response. 

“Scooorch,” Goldenstar admonished, still teasing, but there was a serious undertone. She wasn’t getting out of this one. 

“Ugh,” she growled and sank her claws into the moss. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” She glared up at Goldenstar and found a very unimpressed expression waiting for her. “Fine. What do you want from me? Do I need to go jump Yarrowshade’s bones or something?”

“Is that what you want?” asked Goldenstar, raising one brow. 

“I don’t know!” Scorch cried, throwing her paws up helplessly. “I mean… no. Honestly, just thinking about it makes me sick.” She didn’t want to associate Yarrowshade with teeth in her scruff and oppressive heat bearing down from all sides. Even considering the possibility made her stomach flip and churn. 

“Okay, well then what do you want?” Goldenstar gently licked the top of her head to bring her back to herself and she sighed in relief. Despite all of the terror that came with being exposed like this, she realized that it was nice that Goldenstar could anticipate her needs like that, that she was willing to show up for her when she needed it. 

“This, I guess…” she shrugged. “This quiet, easy closeness we have.” 

“Then tell him that,” shrugged Goldenstar. “He’s not going to be mad or push you for more.”

“I know,” sighed Scorch, “it just feels so… stupid.”

“But it’s not,” purred Goldenstar, pressing little licks over her face. “It makes me really happy that you’re learning what you want and how to ask for it.”

“Really?” Scorch tried to find her eyes. “You really don’t mind at all that I’ve got… feelings for your best friend?”

“Nope,” Goldenstar chirped brightly. “Stars, it makes me really happy! Two of my favorite people are going to be even happier than before.”

“That’s crazy,” said Scorch, still unconvinced. “Nobody really feels that way.”

“I do,” shrugged Goldenstar. “It’s not like you’re leaving me for him. What is there to be sad about?” 

“I don’t know,” Scorch shook her head aimlessly. “Won’t you get jealous? Won’t he be jealous of you?”

Goldenstar laid her head overtop of Scorch’s and hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t say what Yarrowshade may or may not feel, but no, I won’t be jealous. You and Yarrowshade spending time together doesn’t take anything away from me. It’ll be alright.”

Scorch sighed tiredly -- far too tiredly for having just woken up. 

“Just do what makes you happy,” said Goldenstar. “Let me know when you change your mind about things but don’t feel like you need my approval. You’re my partner, not something I own. I love you.” 

“I love you,” Scorch mumbled, and she meant it. After a long beat of just breathing and listening to Goldenstar breathe, she asked, “What should I say to Yarrowshade?”

“Tell him what you told me when we got together,” said Goldenstar. 

“That he’s too soft?” she cocked a brow skeptically. 

“No, no,” laughed Goldenstar, “lay out exactly what you want and what you don’t. He’ll do the same and if they line up then you’re good to go.” 

“That’s it?” Scorch scoffed in disbelief. “I just walk up and say, ‘listen up, dummy, I want to do cutesy garbage with you. What do you want?’”

“Sure,” shrugged Goldenstar. “Why not?” 

“‘Cause that’s weird?” 

“Eh, he’s a weirdo. He’ll understand.”

“Ugh,” Scorch groaned and put her paws over her eyes. This entire thing was a nightmare designed to torture her specifically.

“Come on,” Goldenstar chuckled, standing up so that Scorch slid off of her side and into the nest. “Let’s invite him to share breakfast.” Scorch groaned again but with Goldenstar up and about, staying and rotting in the nest was a great deal less enticing than before. 

“Fine,” she sighed, heaving herself to her feet and giving her fur a quick groom while Goldenstar stretched. Once she was done, Goldenstar twined their tails together and they padded out into the sun side by side. 

The early morning patrol had just returned and the freshkill pile was well stocked. Scorchplume realized suddenly just how hungry she was and quickly picked out a starling that smelled appetizing. Goldenstar grabbed a mouse and turned to survey the camp. 

“Wonder where he is,” she hummed. 

“Who?” asked Pantherhaze, sitting a short ways off and grooming between his toes. 

“Yarrowshade,” said Goldenstar. “Seen him?” 

“I think he’s still in the den,” said Pantherhaze. 

“Thanks,” Goldenstar smiled. Scorchplume took a slow deep breath to steady herself. Goldenstar looked at her and said, “I’ll go get him, you find us a spot, okay?”

“Sure,” Scorch flicked her tail, trying to lift herself up with confidence. She could do this. It wasn’t any different from negotiations. Still, her heart was thumping in her chest and her paws felt sweaty as she went to sit beneath the Stoneperch and wait. 

After a few moments, Goldenstar and Yarrowshade emerged from the warriors’ den and came to join her. Yarrowshade was smiling nervously and Scorch forced her own, tight-lipped smile. What did you say to him, Goldie? she wondered. 

“Hey,” she called, trying to sound normal, “How was the rest of the party?” 

“Fine, I guess,” Yarrowshade shrugged. “Mostly, Charredbranch complained my ear off because Greyvoice was flirting with Robinswoop but that’s not important.” He shook his head as he settled down across from her. “How are you feeling?”

Why did that have to be his first question? she nearly groaned. 

“Fine,” she said on instinct, then amended, “Better. Sleep helped.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “It’ll do that.” 

Scorch nodded in kind, then slid her starling towards him. “Here. I… I was thinking we could share.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Yarrowshade said as if he’d just noticed the food for the first time.

Goldenstar smiled and nestled down against her side to eat, there but not quite engaged in their conversation. It was clear that she wasn’t going to do this for Scorch. She took a deep breath and then forced the words out. 

“Look,” she said matter-of-factly, “the last thing I want is for things to be weird between us, alright?” 

“Yeah,” nodded Yarrowshade. “Agreed.” 

“Good,” she said, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “I’ve talked about it with Goldenstar and decided that…” she grasped for the words, “I am interested in… pursuing some kind of… arrangement.” 

“Okay,” he said, listening carefully. For now, the food between them sat untouched.

“It would be completely non-sexual,” she said firmly. “Strictly contained to things like nest-sharing and tail-twining. And there would be no labels.” 

“Okay,” he nodded. 

That word was starting to get on her nerves. “And that’s all. What do you think?” 

He nodded slowly a few more times, letting his eyes rove the middle distance between them. “I mean, yeah,” he said eventually, “That all sounds good to me. To be honest, though, I’m not sure that like… something without sex is gonna be enough for me?” 

Scorchplume’s chest tightened like her ribs and lungs were at war.

Thankfully, Yarrowshade continued, “But, like, I totally understand why you feel that way and I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I guess I just wanna make sure you’re cool with it if I end up seeing someone else as well.” 

“Of course,” she said, trying to stop her heart from beating out of her chest. “I’m seeing Goldenstar. It’s only fair.” 

“Okay,” Yarrowshade gave a sigh of relief, nodding once more. “Great.” Goldenstar gave Scorchplume’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze with one paw.

“And you’re not just saying that to appease me,” Scorch clarified, “you are actually interested in being more than a friend to me, yes?” 

“Yeah,” he assured her, brow furrowing seriously, “I mean, I haven’t really thought about you that way since we first met but it’s not a hard adjustment to make. You’re awesome, Scorch. Anybody would be lucky to be with you.”

“Damn right,” she said haughtily, finally feeling like the tension had started to ease. She pulled the starling close and took a bite, once again reminded that she was starving. She took another bite, let herself breathe out through her nose afterwards, and some of the tension started to drain from her body. 

Yarrowshade smiled and reached out to pull the starling back over to him but she sank her claws in and held it in place, making him frown in worry. 

“The bird is staying right here,” she said. “If you want to eat, you’ll have to move closer.” 

Goldenstar gave a purring laugh and said, “Get used to that, Yare. She’s a bossy one.”

“Oh, I know,” he chuckled. “That’s alright, though. I don’t mind being told what to do by a pretty lady.” He bounced his eyebrows at Scorch and she rolled her eyes. 

“Good, because I need you to shut up immediately,” she scoffed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, scooting closer to lean against her side and eat. She swatted him in the face and shook her head. Goldenstar had finished her mouse and reclined across Scorch’s back half to sun herself as she and Yarrowshade ate. It was peaceful, being surrounded by the two of them. 

Another kittypet lunged in to fill the other’s space, lashing out with both claws, and she barely avoided losing an eye with a corkscrew twist. There were so many of them, jostling around each other claustrophobically. She danced backwards, using her long reach to her advantage as she skirted claws and teeth and threw in a strike here or there. 

One of the kittypets struck hard in the elbow and she limped backwards only for another to lunge in and topple her onto her back again. She hissed and kicked out but this one didn’t give. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and she cried out in pain. The other cat was snapping at her tail. The number of cats was overwhelming, threatening to shut her brain down entirely which was terrifying. She could feel her thoughts spiraling out of control, wondering where Slatepaw was or if Songdust would be able to keep up with the amount of enemies. 

“Barley!” Yarrowshade’s voice snapped her back into the here and now. With a painful tug on her shoulder, the cat on top of her was tackled to the side and she managed to focus long enough to kick the other kittypet hard in the face. She stood and found herself back to back with Yarrowshade, relief flooding through her from every inch of him that pressed up against her. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she said without looking at him. The kittypet prowled in front of her, looking for a gap in her defense. 

“Get off me!” Yellowkit’s voice screamed above the din and it took all of her restraint not to turn her head towards the sound. 

“The kits,” she gasped.

“Go,” Yarrowshade said, “They need you.” She didn’t wait. Darting sideways, she wove around the thronging combatants, Yarrowshade snarling behind her. She moved as quickly as she could to the nursery, managing to leap and spring past any attacks that came her way until she came upon a smoky tabby hoisting Yellowkit by his scruff, another cat’s tail twitching in the entryway to the nursery as Bluekit screamed inside. 

“Back off!” Barleybee roared, smacking the tabby as hard as she could across the face. There was a righteous satisfaction in the resistance of his flesh against her claws. He reeled and Yellowkit managed to pull out of his grasp. 

“Help!” he wailed, trying to crawl underneath her, which wasn’t exactly helpful. 

“Get in the nursery!” she ordered, landing another sharp blow on the tabby’s head. Yellowkit nodded and rushed past her into the den. Barleybee turned quickly, hoping the tabby stayed down, and latched her teeth into the other rogue’s leg, yanking him backwards until his hindquarters were out of the den. Bluekit screamed even louder and Barleybee gave another frantic tug. 

“What the-” The kittypet wheeled around and swiped at her but she tumbled under the blow and into the nursery. Twisting onto her feet, she slashed at his eyes driving him backwards into the clearing. The two kittypets loomed close, glaring at her but she arched her back and did her best to block the entryway with her body. 

“Bluekit, are you hurt?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No, ma’am,” the kit said, voice trembling. 

“Good,” she nodded. “Both of you stay at the back of the den.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” cried Bluekit.

“Okay,” Yellowkit sniffled. 

“Out of the way, girl,” growled the second rogue, a burly, fawn-colored tom in a green collar.

“No way,” hissed Barleybee. 

“We’re just here for the kits,” said the smoke tabby, much calmer, as if they weren’t in the middle of a bloodbath. “They belong in the city with their mother. It’s wrong to keep them separated like this, surely you can see that.” 

“They’re happy where they are,” she said. “Touch them again and I’ll make you pay for it.” The tabby’s eyes darkened with thought. The fawn tom lunged. 

Barleybee had been waiting and she braced herself against his weight as he tried to shove her backwards into the den, paws skidding in the dirt. She wrapped her paws around his neck and sank her teeth into his cheek, twisting her head with her jaw clamped firmly around his flesh. He hissed in pain, twisted his head with hers to avoid the worst of the pain, and ended up losing his balance, forced to fall back. Barleybee gave him a few more claw wounds to send him on his way. 

The tabby moved in and reared up to swipe at her. Barleybee could tell by his stance that he would be easy to tackle but she ignored the temptation, instead swatting his paws out of the air before they could reach her face. He dropped back down, scowling, and she smirked in return. 

“Nice try,” she said. “I’m not moving.” 

“You’re smart,” said the tabby, “I’ll give you that.” Barleybee couldn’t help but be flattered, even if the cat complimenting her was despicable. When she realized it, her chest seized with panic. Was that a trick? Was he trying to get her to drop her guard with flattery? Had she already made a fatal mistake? She squared her stance, ears pressed back against her head, and bared her teeth. The smoky tabby’s tail twitched irritably. 

“London!” a voice hissed, “What’s the hold up?” Slinking in from the edge of the clearing came a small brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He glared at the smoky tabby for a beat before turning his cruel green gaze on Barleybee. 

“They’re big kits,” London said. “It’s not so easy to drag them off.” 

“Besides,” growled the fawn cat, “this bitch is blocking the door.” 

“She’s one girl!” the new tabby snapped, tail bristling. “Do your jobs already! Casper and I have already finished ours.” 

“If you’re so competent, do it yourself,” the fawn cat’s lip curled. The masked tabby’s gaze turned venomous. Barleybee took the chance to catch her breath, ears and eyes alert for any sign that one of them was about to move. She had to anticipate their attacks, had to be ready for anything. Yellowkit and Bluekit were counting on her.

Suddenly a new chorus of yowls broke out from the north-west. The movement of the battle shifted, turning towards the flood of cats that was pouring into the clearing. Barleybee’s eyes widened as she saw Snowstar and Orangestar clawing their way side by side into the heart of the fighting. 

“Reinforcements,” London hissed under his breath, his thick fur brushing up. 

“Quickly!” spat the masked tabby. “Let’s grab the kits and leave already!” 

The fawn cat lunged for Barleybee again and this time he took her to the ground. Yellowkit and Bluekit screamed in chorus as he slammed her onto her back. She kicked as hard as she could, trying to tear up his belly, and he twisted off of her, leaving claw marks on her shoulders. 

The nursery had been breached. London darted in over her, moving straight for the kits, only to be suddenly pulled backward by his tail. He yowled in pain, twisted around and slashed at Russetfrond but the deputy held fast to his tail. With another yank, he dragged London back out, stripping a section of his tail of fur. 

“You again,” the masked tabby grumbled, dropping low into a crouch. Russetfrond growled around the tail in his mouth. 

Barleybee quickly rolled to her feet and lunged for the rogue inside the nursery, tearing his fawn pelt in her claws as she chased him up against one of the walls. He kicked her hard in the belly and she stumbled back, trying to make her body as big of a barrier between him and the kittens as she could, but, to her surprise, he took the opportunity to slip through the entrance and take off into the night.

“Coward!” shouted the masked tabby. 

London had finally managed to get Russetfrond to let go of his tail and now he backed up next to the smaller cat. “I think it’s time to go.” Barleybee quickly moved to block the entrance again. Outside, the battlefield had changed dramatically. Now outnumbered, the city cats were starting to fall back one by one, only making the remaining rogues more outnumbered with every second. 

“Sardine, right?” Russetfrond growled, prowling forward. “You’re not going anywhere this time.” Appearing from the crowd, Sparrowsway hissed his agreement and moved to cut off the rear. The masked tabby -- Sardine, it seemed -- glanced warily at both of them, shifting into a smaller, defensive stance. London growled and turned to keep an eye on Sparrowsway, his tail twitching threateningly back and forth. 

A white shape slammed into Russetfrond’s side, pushing him off his feet. The deputy swayed, caught himself, and lurched back at the snub-nosed kittypet who had attacked him. The rogue’s face was drenched in blood, a crimson streak stark against his glossy white fur. Barleybee shuddered at the sight. Whose blood had he spilt? Was it someone she knew? 

“Just in time, Casper,” Sardine purred smugly. He sprang towards Barleybee and she braced herself only to realize he was leaping up over her head to escape. Sparrowsway lunged after him but London tackled him out of the air and they rolled away, hissing violently as they clawed at each other. Barleybee bunched her legs to go after Sardine but froze. She glanced over her shoulder at the kittens huddled frightfully against the wall of the nursery. They stared at her with matching pairs of wide, glistening copper eyes. 

What if she left and they were kitnapped because of her? But wasn’t catching the leader of the city cats a top priority? Her ears fell back against her head as she realized that in her indecision she had made her choice. Swallowing, she braced herself in the entryway again. London and Casper had detached themselves from their opponents in the time she’d spent waffling and fled after their leader. Russetfrond snarled after them for a moment, then his gaze fell on her and he hurried over. 

“Are they alright?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Yes, they’re safe,” she stepped to the side and pressed herself up against the wall to let him in.

“Father!” Bluekit wailed and rushed to press his face into Russetfrond’s fur. Yellowkit was close behind and Barleybee’s chest swelled with emotion as Russetfrond crouched down over his kits and ran his tongue over their pelts. 

“Did they hurt you?” he growled, checking their bellies and sides for wounds.

“They didn’t hurt us,” Bluekit shook his head.

“They were trying to take us away!” Yellowkit sobbed. 

“Those foxhearts,” Russetfrond snarled, curling tightly around his sons. “I’ll make them pay for that.” 

“That’s the last one!” Branchbark’s voice called out. Things had quieted somewhat but the camp was still noisy with the sound of EarthClan and SkyClan’s warriors. 

Stormwhisper leapt up on the Stoneperch and called, “Everyone with a serious injury, please gather over on the big flat stone there! Everyone else, please disperse so that we can tend to the wounded.” The crowd slowly began to separate and drift away from each other. 

Coyotechaser barked, “Someone help me take this kittypet out of camp and bury him.” Beneath her paws lay a tabby and white kittypet with glazed over expression. 

“I’ll help,” said Pantherhaze, limping over to her. Together, they started dragging the body out of camp, thank StarClan. Barleybee sighed, stepped away from the nursery, content that the kittens were safe, and padded over to Sparrowsway. 

He looked her over and asked, “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. She had her fair share of claw marks and a bite or two but nothing that needed immediate attention. “You?” 

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “I can’t believe they attacked during the gathering. Mystique must have told them about it.” He glared at the dirt, kneading his claws in frustration. Barleybee frowned worriedly. 

“I guess so…” she mumbled. Self-consciously, she straightened out a few of her feathers that had been knocked askew in the fight. She was certain that a few had fallen out. She’d have to find another cardinal to replace them…

A sudden scream cut through the air. Barleybee’s hackles shot up and her eyes darted across the camp to where Fogpaw was quickly backing out of the healers’ den. The apprentice’s fur stood on end, making her a white puff ball, and her tail arched sharply down behind her, ears pressed against her head. 

“What is it?” Scorchplume bounded over to her and searched her face. Fogpaw shook her head, staring unfocused into the mouth of the den. “Fogpaw, what’s wrong?” Fogpaw shook her head some more, this time meeting Scorch’s gaze, and burst into tears, flinging herself into her mentor’s chest. Scorchplume stiffened and very gingerly pulled the apprentice close, staring at Goldenstar for help. Goldenstar, standing by her den with Orangestar and Snowstar, looked just as lost and extremely concerned. 

After a moment, Floodstrike stepped out of the healer’s den, his paws drenched in thick, dark blood. He looked angrier than Barleybee had ever seen him and his eyes were red with tears. Dread gripped her chest tightly in its claws as the whole clearing held its breath. 

“Sagetooth and Lakepaw are dead,” he said hoarsely. “The herb stores are destroyed.” 

“Oh, stars,” Barleybee breathed. They’d been sick. Undefended. An overwhelming wave of crushing guilt fell over her. She should have known. She should have gone to help them. Someone else would have saved the kittens, she should have rescued Lakepaw. She started to cry as well, paws shaking as the adrenaline crash consumed her. 

“No,” Branchbark sobbed. Quickly, he hurried past Floodstrike into the healers’ den, jostling Floodstrike who failed to step out of the way. 

“Bogmist!” Stormwhisper stood up from where he had been inspecting Ospreymask’s wounds. “I need cobwebs and sorrel right now.” The EarthClan deputy nodded and took off towards the woods. Stormwhisper looked at the nearest non-RisingClan warrior and said, “You! I need fresh moss and water from the river. Go!” Nodding dutifully, Pebblefall leapt to their feet and dashed off into the fields. 

“Floodstrike,” Sparrowsway started towards his brother but Floodstrike turned his head away and stalked out of camp. Sparrowsway paused and looked back at Barleybee. 

She swallowed, sniffed, and said, “I’ll talk to him.” Quickly, she strode across camp to follow him. She caught up with him at the bottom of the hill on the southern side of camp, calling, “Floodstrike, wait!”

“I’m going to kill them,” he spat through tears, still walking. “I’m going to kill every single one of those monsters.”

“Wh- Now?” Barleybee asked, following his gaze towards the glowing orange of the distant city lights. “Floodstrike, that’s impossible! You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

“So what?” he rounded on her, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I have to do something! She needed me and I let her die! I failed her!” 

“You couldn’t have known!” Barleybee pleaded. “It’s not your fault, Floodstrike.” 

“She was my apprentice,” he sniffed harshly. “She looked up to me -- stars, she was so young! She was my little girl and they killed her!”

“I know,” Barleybee’s tears were flowing freely now. “I know, Floodstrike. But trying to take revenge isn’t going to make you feel any better. It will only make you a killer too.” 

“I’m not doing this for me!” he hissed, tail arching, “I’m doing this for her! She’s watching! She deserves to know I’m not just going to accept what they did to her!” 

“She wouldn’t want you to do this,” Barleybee stepped closer. “She was so sweet and kind. She would want you to move on and heal, Floodstrike. Please, come back to camp with me.” She watched his face for a good, long moment. His eyes were blazing with fury and red with grief. His throat rippled with effort. Eventually, he grit his teeth and looked down at his paws, chest shuddering with sobs, and sat down. Barleybee sat down next to him and pressed her head against his. 

“I… I can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered between breaths. 

“I’m so sorry,” Barleybee pressed firm licks to his cheeks. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have to be this way.” Something about that caused him to break down even harder and he collapsed into her side. Barleybee wrapped her arms around his neck and eased him down to the ground. The two of them lay there, holding each other, and Barleybee tried to convince herself that, at the very least, if she couldn’t be there for Lakepaw it was good that she could be there for Floodstrike. 

The thought rang hollow and she spent the rest of the night thinking of what she could have done differently -- what she should have done differently. When they went back for the vigil, she whispered an apology to Lakepaw’s body. When they found white and dark tabby fur under Lakepaw’s claws, Barleybee knew exactly who was responsible but held off on telling Floodstrike. When they went to bed, she, Sparrowsway, and Oddstripe curled tightly around Floodstrike in a single nest, weary eyed and worn.