#yellowkit

Honeybuzz helps the three star-blessed apprentices.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, Wolfpaw, and Anchovypaw watch Estherfern talk with a Dark Forest spirit. Under Honeybuzz, it says + NEW SKILL: GOOD TEACHER.]

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Honeybuzz cupped his paw around one of the many plucked mushrooms that formed the unholy circle. He sniffed at the herbal mixture that sealed the pickings together. A few strands of black and red fur clung to the wet earth that lined the edges of the muddy den. The constant rain of the last four days made the ground slick and sent water dripping from the root-lined ceiling. Anchovypaw, Wolfpaw, and Weevilpaw stood outside the den, heads close together as they peered inside. The rain glued their pelts to their skin.

“And you’ve known about this for how long, Anchovypaw?” Honeybuzz asked. He absently batted at his wooden necklace, the freshly plucked cicada wing glistening with raindrops. He pointedly sat outside of the circle, mud sinking into his thin fur.

“Only a few days,” Anchovypaw admitted. “I didn’t want to say anything until I could come back here, but there’s even more ichor here than there was when I first found the den.”

“You should have told us sooner,” Weevilpaw huffed with a glare so sharp that, had she had her sister’s ability, Anchovypaw would have frozen stiff.

“I wasn’t going to scare anyone if I didn’t have to!” Anchovypaw huffed. A sharp flick of his tail sent a stream of water flying over Weevilpaw and Wolfpaw’s backs. “It could have just been where the beast that killed Weedfoot went to die. I only waited a few days! It took me that long to get away from Halibutdusk!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Honeybuzz promised. He squeezed around the apprentices, squinting as the rain splashed his eyes.

“Now we know someone else has been here,” Wolfpaw pointed out. 

“What is it, Honeybuzz?” Weevilpaw asked. She moved further into the den, eyes locked on the circle.

“You remember my lessons on channeling StarClan?” Honeybuzz said, shivering. “It exhausts power StarClan wasn’t planning to use, but the immediate and physical communication can justify an absence of subtle signs and assistance.”

“But we don’t use mushrooms,” Weevilpaw said. She poked at a mushroom, making it roll out of its spot. “We form a circle of cats, not plants.”

“But do you remember when you met Terracottafoot?” Honeybuzz sighed. “I asked them to tell you about last Harvest Moon, and some of their knowledge of the Dark Forest. Newtstream, their mentor, taught them about channeling Dark Forest spirits using a circle of mushrooms.”

“Someone’s summoning Spirits of Shadow,” Wolfpaw gulped.

“Who would be that mouse-brained?” Anchovypaw growled. His claws left gouges in the mud. “We all remember the Shardling. Who would want to bring something like that back?” Anchovypaw looked like he was going to be sick. Wolfpaw rubbed against Anchovypaw’s side. “You were right, Weevilpaw. I should have destroyed this den as soon as I found it.”

“Then they would have made another one,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “No, we need to find a trusted warrior to watch this den. They can wait until the culprit visits again. Waspdawn or Puddlewhisper would do well. I trust them.” Weevilpaw’s soaked fur prickled. Her eyes widened, locked on something Honeybuzz couldn’t see. Her mouth dropped slightly, breath catching. 

“Out, out!” Weevilpaw hissed, lunging past Wolfpaw. She scrambled into a thick bush, still bursting with summer life. Wolfpaw and Anchovypaw were instantly at her side, following her into the shadows. Honeybuzz stumbled in after them, sharp branches poking his ribs.

“Who did you see?” Anchovypaw whispered just as the shrubbery on the other side of the dark den shifted. Bicolored eyes glimmered through the mid-morning haze.

“Estherfern?” Honeybuzz gasped as the older cleric stepped into full view. Estherfern carried a ball of fur in her jaws, the same red and black colors Honeybuzz found in the strange den. Her fur on her cheeks drooped like heavy leaves. She strolled into the shadows, ignorant to her spies.

“The Shardling almost killed her kits,” Anchovypaw growled, his rage making the leaves shake. “Why would she deal with the Dark Forest?”

“Keep listening,” Wolfpaw whispered. “We might find out.” Estherfern placed the furballs in the center of the circle. Her cool gaze settled on Weevilpaw’s disturbed mushroom. Honeybuzz grit his teeth. Estherfern carefully nudged the mushroom back into its original position. She sat in the den’s entrance, back to Honeybuzz and the apprentices.

Estherfern declared, “I call upon the spirit of Hawthornstealer, banished from StarClan for murder in the name of his kits. Despite your sins, your assistance is required. Return to the Clans, if only for a moment. Speak to us.”

“Do you see that?” Anchovypaw whispered, pressing into Weevilpaw. “Do you see that?” Honeybuzz squinted. The circle was still. Suddenly, Weevilpaw gasped. She bit into her paw to muffle her shock. Honeybuzz braced his heart for whatever the star-blessed apprentices saw.

It began as a shift in the mud, like water in a pot at the first stages of boiling. The ground around the fur offering darkened. Black sludge bubbled out of the mud and lapped up the fur balls like medicine. The sound of its formation reminded Honeybuzz of paws trapped in thick gunk, pulling out of the mess with a sucking slurp. It leaked from under the mushrooms and collected in the circle’s center. The ichor pulled itself upward like drops of water falling from the ceiling, perverting the pull of the earth. A subtle red glow illuminated the den.

“It’s finally working,” Estherfern gasped as the ichor took shape. It lifted itself high like a cat arching their back. It clung to the ground at four points that slowly took on the details of paws. A claw-like tail sprouted from its back. The ichor bubbled and bulged into a muzzle. Two glowing red eyes erupted from the spirit’s face. StarClan help them all.

“So you are Estherfern,” the spirit said. Its voice was as sticky as the mud from which it was born, dissolving into the sound of the tumbling rain.

“Hawthornstealer?” Estherfern asked. The spirit blinked slowly, its eyelids like a mudslide. 

“Why do you call?” the spirit groaned.

“Oilstripe and Lavendertwist told me your story,” Estherfern explained. She inched closer, back still stuck in the rain. “You killed an elder to ensure more food for your kits in a famine. You would have done anything for them. StarClan doesn’t seem to have the power I need. I’m hoping you can help.”

“Explain.”

“My kits are sick, and RippleClan can do nothing to help them. One of my daughters is going deaf, the other is half-blind. And now my only son has issues of the head, issues the mediators are simply bandaging, not fixing.” Was she talking about Brightpaw? Spikecrash had asked Honeybuzz and Troutpool about any relaxing herbs the young tom could take before the Gathering, something to ease the panic that overtook him when too many cats surrounded him. It was manageable. There was no need to resort to such extremes.

“You are searching for a cure.”

“I can’t let them struggle like this. How can I fix them?” The spirit stared at Estherfern silently, the rainfall burning into the background of Honeybuzz’s mind. The only sign of un-life in the spirit rested in its long, slow blinking. Even Estherfern, collected as she was, twitched under the spirit’s unending, blank stare.

“I…,” Anchovypaw whispered, “I don’t think that’s the ghost of Hawthornstealer.”

“Why not?” Wolfpaw whimpered.

“It’s too empty,” Anchovypaw groaned, struggling to find the right word. “Weedfoot’s stories said Dark Forest ghosts looked like themselves. Even the Shardling looked a little like Autumnstar, isn’t that what Downstar told us? This thing doesn’t look like anyone. It looks like a shadow."

“We may have the power,” the spirit finally coughed through its thick ichor. “We need help.”

“That’s what I expected,” Estherfern sighed. “What sort of ritual do I need to perform? Is there another spirit I should talk to?”

“Your children were destined to develop these afflictions,” the spirit gurgled. “Their destinies must be replaced. Replaced with another’s.”

“Elaborate.” 

“The eyes of the clear sighted.” The spirit’s red eyes shone like a flickering fire. “The ears of the cautious listener.” Its pointed ears flicked, their first movement since the spirit’s arrival. “The tongue of the charmed.” Its black teeth peered out from muddy lips. “Three sacrifices. Three kits.” Estherfern stilled. Honeybuzz’s heart sank. Despite her standoffishness, despite her argumentativeness, Estherfern was part of the Clan, her kits were part of the Clan. How could she throw that away to fix what didn’t, what couldn’t be fixed?

“We’ll stop her before she begins,” Anchovypaw growled, inching a paw out of hiding. StarClan asked for Estherfern. Why would they send for her if she could be swayed like this?

“Offer the dead—”

“No.” All four hidden cats perked their ears high. Estherfern stood, tail rippling slowly as she stared the spirit down. The spirit, to Honeybuzz’s continued shock, flinched.

“No?” the spirit spat.

“What do you take me for?” Estherfern scoffed. “You think I’m so blindly devoted to a cure that you can turn me into a murderer? A sadist for the sake of my children?”

“You want them cured,” the spirit growled. Its paw lingered at the edge of the circle. “This is how you cure them.”

“And what happens when I do?” Estherfern asked, tilting one ear in a shocking taunt. “I know how your land works, the rules of your afterlife. They will go to StarClan some day and learn what I did for them, if they do not find out in life. They will despise me for what I have done.”

“But they will be cured.”

“Furthermore, I know the creatures that inhabit your Dark Forest.” Estherfern walked around the circle like a hunter. The spirit never turned its head, face stuck in a sneer. “It is the home of murderers and scoundrels. I would surely arrive there after my own death were I to kill three innocents for you. You would condemn me to eternity without my children.”

“You’ve already been damned, Estherfern. You brought forth the Skin N’ Bones that slew your deputy. You are the cause of your Clan’s suffering. Do you believe StarClan will forgive you for that?” A Skin N’ Bones. Of course. Nothing else would have injured Downstar like that. Nothing else would have devoured Weedfoot alive. Estherfern stopped. The calculated and callous look that always hung in her eyes cracked. Honeybuzz could almost see Estherfern’s soul drop. “Why give up now? You’re too far gone. Your children are not. Why summon us if you were not willing to do whatever it took to fix your kits?”

“I will not have them hate me!” Estherfern rounded on the spirit, lips curled tight. “I will not have them curse my name!” She shook her head low. “I will find a different cure for them. I will find another way. I send you back, spirit, back to your dark wanderings, where StarClan’s light does not reach.” Estherfern reached for one of the mushrooms. Her paw breached the circle.

“No!” The spirit dug its fangs into Estherfern’s paw. Ichor dripped into her fresh wound. She pulled back, ripping more of her skin in the process. 

“I respect what you did for your kits, Hawthornstealer,” Estherfern hissed, licking her paw. “I realize now, however, that where you could put aside your kits’ emotions for their futures, I cannot.”

“We,” the spirit growled, voice dissolving, “are not Hawthornstealer.” 

The spirit’s legs melted like snow. Its form dissolved and splashed about in a massive sticky pool. One by one, the mushrooms rolled into the ichor and vanished under the writhing mass as though falling into a great black hole. The ichor bubbled and squirmed as though in a death rattle. It leaked from the confines of the circle and coated the den floor. Estherfern backed up, back paws slipping on the soaked grass.

Weevilpaw raced out of the bush before Honeybuzz could react. She threw her full weight into Estherfern’s side. The two clerics tumbled into the shrubs. In that moment, the ichor exploded. It sprayed the walls of the dirt den and shot into the rain in an endless cascade. More ichor escaped the den than could have possibly made up the spirit in the circle. As it flew into the forest, large clumps tumbled to the side like wayward drops from a massive wave. The glops tumbled and sloshed against the wet ground before launching through the trees and out of sight. More and more of these glops scrambled away until finally, finally, the spray slowed. A long black trail led out of the den, which was now nothing but ichor and goop. 

Honeybuzz, Anchovypaw, and Wolfpaw crept out of hiding as Weevilpaw got off Estherfern. Mud coated half of her brown pelt. The ichor stunk like rotting flesh and mushrooms.

“How long have you been there?” Estherfern asked, slow to her paws.

“Wolfpaw, you might have to freeze me,” Anchovypaw growled, claws out. “I’m a whisker’s length from killing her.”

“Anchovypaw, no!” Weevilpaw stood in front of Estherfern, paws skidding. “She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She was trying to help her kits. We can’t blame her for that!”

“But the Dark Forest…” Wolfpaw gulped. With the puff in her fur dissolved in the rain, she seemed half her size.

“It is full of dead cats, not unlike StarClan,” Estherfern huffed. She stepped around Weevilpaw and faced down the furious crowd. “All I wanted was a way to cure my kits, something you’ve shown you cannot do.”

“Estherfern, you weren’t talking to a dead warrior,” Honeybuzz groaned, almost stepping on the ichor trail. “That was a Herald. Their entire purpose is to trick the living into allowing Spirits of Shadow into the territories.” His gaze lingered on the forest. He could almost hear the half-formed monsters slurping across the grass, taking their true, cursed forms.

“You heard her!” Weevilpaw huffed. “She wasn’t going to listen to the spirit. She was going to destroy the circle.”

“She didn’t commit murder,” Anchovypaw scoffed. “You did well, Estherfern. You did the bare minimum.”

“Is it your fault?” Wolfpaw muttered, voice almost lost in the rain. “Did you get Weedfoot killed?” Estherfern stared into the ichor-soaked den. 

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. 

“She didn’t know, Anchovypaw,” Weevilpaw snapped. “She’s a good cat!”

“She didn’t care about killing anyone, she cared about what her kits would think,” Anchovypaw growled. “How can we trust a cleric who doesn’t care if you live or die?”

“I trust her,” Weevilpaw huffed, pressing into Estherfern. “Even though she’s strange.”

“Weevilpaw,” Honeybuzz sighed, jumping over the ichor, “take Anchovypaw and Wolfpaw and go back to camp. Just go to the medicine den and wait for us.” 

“What are we going to do with her?” Anchovypaw asked.

“Leave that to me,” Honeybuzz said, shaking his head. “Now go. Stick together, and hurry. We’ll follow you soon.” The apprentices hesitated, all glancing at one another. Weevilpaw was the first to break; she joined Wolfpaw and nudged her onward. The sisters ran toward the coast. Anchovypaw followed, his burning eyes digging into Estherfern as he vanished into the foggy trees.

“It seems I underestimated the vigor of the Dark Forest’s supernatural entities,” Estherfern hummed, cleaning the mud off her injured paw.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Honeybuzz hissed softly.

“Of course I do,” Estherfern snapped, curling her lips. “You love to tell the story of the Rippling Ashes. They ventured into the Dark Forest, they had Newtstream’s advice. What made my own approach so wicked?”

“Because it’s dangerous!” Honeybuzz groaned. “Because channeling Dark Forest souls, even when they want to help, clears a path for Spirits of Shadow, and they don’t care about any of us. They’re born to hunt. This isn’t worth it.”

“If your kits were sick, wouldn’t you do what you could for them?” Estherfern growled with a large thrash of her tail. “You can’t fix them. I thought the Dark Forest could.”

“They don’t need to be fixed!” Honeybuzz yowled, throwing his whole height up to glare down at Estherfern (who, unlike Rapidleaf, would not cower). “They aren’t dying, Estherfern! They can adapt! I’m sorry I can’t cure Thunderkit or stop Brightpaw’s anxiety, but they’ll be fine!” As Honeybuzz yowled, the first crack appeared in the sky, striking through the gray clouds. Thunder echoed far overhead. Estherfern stared at the growing storm.

“What’s out there now, do you think?” Estherfern sighed.

“Dog-cats, forsaken prey, honeybites…” Honeybuzz muttered, spine itching. “There may even be monsters we rarely see, ones we don’t have names for. We don’t want to know everything that’s out there now.”

“This is something we can fix,” Estherfern huffed. She marched around Honeybuzz and stood on the roof of the wicked den. Jaw tight as her bit paw moved, Estherfern dug at the soaked grass. Her pelt was more mud than fur. Chunks of earth tumbled into the den. The sopping ground folded in on itself like a wave. Estherfern rolled away as the roof of the den fell and covered the sticky, stinking ichor. Grass stuck to Estherfern’s underside. Honeybuzz hurried to her, helping her away from the crumbled remains of her sins.

“We can,” Honeybuzz gulped. “We can fix this.”

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Anchovypaw: 10, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 10, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Sandpaw and Spikecrash arrange time for Estherfern to see the kits she worked so hard to “fix”.

[Image ID: Estherfern faces Thunderpaw, Wolverinepaw, and Brightpaw.]

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Estherfern didn’t belong at such a lively celebration. The sumptuous food, the well-rehearsed performances… Harvest Moon was as grand as RippleClan claimed it to be. Every Clan gathered as the sunrise poked through the trees, preparing their stews and games and performances. But it was a holiday to drive off Spirits of Shadow. What good would it do to have their herald nestled in the safety of the firelight?

“Spirits of Shadow hate charms,” Troutpool explained as she tucked a cat’s wood-carved face into the boughs of a low-hanging pine. “AshClan spends a lot of time carving these trinkets, and all that care under StarClan’s protections makes them especially useful in warding off danger.” All the clerics roamed the edge’s of the great clearing with baskets of charms and other concoctions to protect the five Clans. Estherfern carried RippleClan’s heavy basket as Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw prepared the defenses to Troutpool’s instruction.

“How many do we have to place?” Weevilpaw asked, shoving a charm as far into a bush as she could reach.

“We’re covering this entire corner,” Troutpool explained. “We don’t want to leave any openings for spirits.” Estherfern nearly broke the charm in her jaws with how tightly she grit her teeth. She quickly passed it to Honeybuzz.

“Estherfern!” Two figures slipped through the massive crowd. Spikecrash and Sandpaw walked side by side, mentor and apprentice in sync. Sandpaw’s gaze wandered throughout the clearing, taking in the sights of all five Clans for the first time.

“You want to speak to me?” Estherfern asked. While her tone made her question sound casual, the brown priestess hid her surprise deep. She didn’t talk to many cats outside of the medicine den. Why would two of the Clan’s mediators want her? Did they know the real reason why Honeybuzz reported a surge of spirits in the Clan? The reason it was too dangerous to leave camp alone? Why all five Clans, not just RippleClan, now had a newfound fear for their lives? Had Honeybuzz not lied for her, Estherfern would have told the truth and accepted the consequences, yet why he kept it secret, Estherfern didn’t know She glanced at Honeybuzz, but the young gold and white cleric focused on his charms.

“I’m hoping we can borrow you,” Spikecrash explained. “Troutpool, do you still need Estherfern’s help?”

“We’re just placing our wards at the moment,” Troutpool explained, reaching into Estherfern’s basket. “We could finish without her if you really need her.” Estherfern carefully slipped the basket off her neck.

“Thank you, Troutpool,” Spikecrash sighed. She flicked her tail for Estherfern to follow. It seemed no one cared if Estherfern actually wanted to speak with Spikecrash, but who was she to refuse? She trailed after Spikecrash and Sandpaw, heading over to the ovens. Clammask and Stormpaw worked with Drumtooth and Thunderpaw, laughing over an unheard joke as they tended the fire under a massive pot of stew.

“I hope this isn’t too much of an invasion of privacy,” Spikecrash began, her scarred flank lifted high in a long stretch. “Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw spoke with me a few days ago and said you were having some difficulties with your kits.” Estherfern narrowed her eyes.

“If we’re going to discuss my kits,” she sighed, “maybe you could tell me why no one told me about Brightpaw’s meetings with you?”

“So you do know about that,” Spikecrash sighed. “Brightpaw is an apprentice now, Estherfern. We aren’t pressured to tell you anything he didn’t want you to know.” 

“If he’s sick, I want to help him,” Estherfern huffed.

“Why do you think he didn’t want you to know?” Sandpaw scoffed. “Look how you acted with Wolverinepaw and Thunderpaw.” Oh if only he knew just what Estherfern had done for them. What the Dark Forest wanted her to do.

“I’ve only ever tried to help them overcome their own limitations,” Estherfern said, her sharp stare ricocheting off Sandpaw and muting his confident words.

“That’s why we wanted to show you a few things,” Spikecrash explained. She waved a paw toward the oven where Thunderpaw and the other RippleClan cats gathered.

“The only goal of tonight is to have a better stew than WheatClan,” Drumtooth explained, shooting a friendly sneer at WheatClan’s oven and their large pot. He licked the surface of the stew and smacked his jaws. “It’s good, but it’s missing something.” Thunderpaw copied her mentor. Her face squirmed, thinking hard. She then made a strange motion with her paws; balancing on her back legs, she brought her paws close to her mouth and wiggled them as they moved away.

“I know this one,” Stormpaw chirped, completely focused on Thunderpaw. “If the wiggles are the sea… seaweed! That’s seaweed!”

“Yes!” Thunderpaw squealed. The two young apprentices cheered and giggled at their success, bunting one another

“AshClan borrowed our basket of seaweed,” Clammask explained, nudging Thunderpaw. “Grab some for us.”

“Grab seaweed,” Thunderpaw laughed. She quickly swiped the air like she was dragging a mouse out of hiding, then made the ‘seaweed’ motion again. Stormpaw mimicked the dragging motion as Thunderpaw hurried to AshClan’s oven.

“Why is Stormpaw learning Clan-sign?” Estherfern asked her mediator companions.

“Because Thunderpaw’s teaching her,” Sandpaw chirped. “Whenever Thunderpaw gets back from her sign lessons with Mummichogleap, she practices with us apprentices. Most of us are learning a few words so Thunderpaw isn’t left out.”

“And you want to learn?” 

“Thunderpaw makes it fun!”

“You can’t expect the whole Clan to learn this second language.”

“No one does.” Spikecrash touched her tail to Estherfern’s shoulder.. “But there are cats who want to make the effort. They can translate for those who don’t know. It puts pressure off Thunderpaw. She can miss what someone said, but she’ll have friends and family who can let her know.” Thunderpaw trotted back to the oven with a few long strips of seaweed. Clammask tore the seaweed into stew-sized chunks, showing the apprentices how to curl their paws just right. Thunderpaw seemed… happy.

“Now if you’ll follow us over here…” Sandpaw purred, strolling around the Leader’s Stone. Estherfern followed, tail a bit higher than before.

Brightpaw, Ravenpaw, and Vervainpaw sat with a gaggle of apprentices from the other Clans. They lounged about, chatting and laughing. Brightpaw nodded along to an apprentice’s story, his flank stretched out like frog legs. Ravenpaw relaxed on top of him, oohing and awing over the tale.

“I don’t know what your birth place thought of disorders of the mind,” Spikecrash whispered, brushing against Estherfern once more, “but like most disabilities, you can learn to live with them. There was a great gathering of warriors and codekeepers here at the new moon, do you remember? Brightpaw managed to befriend these apprentices during the visit. They invited their friends and littermates to chat today, and Brightpaw is happy to spend time with them. His mind is likely lying to him right now, but he knows ways to manage that. He could overcome his anxiety naturally some day, but that’s a minor part of who he is.”

“I know that,” Estherfern huffed. “He loves to play with Rabbitjoy’s paint supplies. He’s sensitive, and loves his sisters with all his heart. I’ve only ever wanted to help those traits shine.”

“That’s not how Brightpaw sees it,” Sandpaw scoffed under his breath. The comment hollowed out Estherfern’s chest. Before she could respond, two brown blurs shot past the Leader’s Stone with a horde of apprentices and young warriors at their tails. Wolverinepaw and Yarrowpaw led the crowd to an open spot within the festivities. They studied their followers like leader and deputy, the sunrise framing their profiles.

“We’ve got until after sunhigh to prepare!” Wolverinepaw cheered. 

“Are we going to let some dusty old bones beat us?” Yarrowpaw cried.

“No!” the young crowd yowled joyfully, already shoving and jumping over each other.

“Let’s show them what the new generation can do!” Wolverinepaw called. Her followers cheered, yowling to the high branches. They scattered throughout the clearing and split into sparring groups. They steadied their stances and wiggled their flanks. With sheathed paws, the youth of the Clans launched into training, trading blows and careful bites. Slushpaw lingered near the edge of the training grounds, cheering the others on.

“Slushpaw!” Sandpaw yowled to the older mediator apprentice. “What are they doing?”

“Well,” Slushpaw laughed, trotting up to Sandpaw, Spikecrash, and Estherfern, “Yarrowpaw and Wolverinepaw were arguing with Darkkick and another old warrior about what was a better trait in a fight; youth or experience. Suddenly all these other cats started joining in, and now the senior warriors are going to have a big mock-battle with the apprentices, plus some warriors who haven’t attended a Harvest Moon before.”

“And Wolverinepaw’s participating in this?” Estherfern huffed. She searched for her daughter in the crowd. She found Wolverinepaw rolling about with Yarrowpaw in the middle of the mess. Yarrowpaw shoved Wolverinepaw’s head into the dirt. Wolverinepaw snapped her jaw around Yarrowpaw’s leg and pulled her onto her shoulder. Yarrowpaw laughed as Wolverinepaw took her place on top of the older apprentice.

"She's as capable as any apprentice her age," Spikecrash assured Estherfern.

"She seemed so insecure during her ceremony…" Estherfern muttered.

"Wolverinepaw?" Spikecrash chuckled. "I don't think so. From what I've heard, she thinks she's strong enough to take on an actual wolverine."

"She didn't choose a role in time, though," Estherfern pointed out.

"Because she wanted to do everything!" Slushpaw laughed. "I talked with her right up to her ceremony. She had a new role in mind every day!" Oh. Had Wolverinepaw's sight not come up at all? Surely her decaying vision would make it hard for her to fight. Yet she kept up with Yarrowpaw, tumbling across the clearing with abandon. Had Estherfern's kits always been so sure of themselves? Surely they wanted cures. How else could they survive in a world that showed no mercy to the weak? In the cat-minded human's den, if you couldn't match up to the others, you wouldn't eat. Three of Estherfern's brilliant kits would have died in that awful place. Except…they weren't there anymore, were they?

"Can I guess what's been going on?" Spikecrash asked. "You've been so focused on a cure in their future, you've ignored how they are in the present. When's the last time you talked to them about something, anything but their health? Have you talked to Foampaw or Boughpaw at all?" Estherfern glanced from one kit to another. Their faces glowed with holiday glee. Did they ever glow around Estherfern anymore? When was the last time she shared a meal with them?

"Spikecrash," Estherfern muttered, her pride burning her words, "I need you to teach me something."

A short time later, Estherfern approached Thunderpaw and the RippleClan stew. The bounties of the ocean danced in the broth, specially prepared for that oh so exciting celebration. Thunderpaw stared eagerly into the stew while Stormpaw and their mentors talked with other caretakers. She spotted her mother and her eyes grew big and calm, mimicking Estherfern's eternally serene expression. Estherfern's heart did not carry that serenity as she approached her bold daughter.

"Do you need…" Estherfern said hesitantly. She awkwardly sat on her hind legs. She held out one paw, pads down, and angled the other on top of it, claws out. Thunderpaw's eyes sparkled at the sign.

"Help," she whispered as Estherfern quickly returned to a natural position. Thunderpaw made the sign with ease, quickly hopping from her hind legs and back. She ogled Estherfern, her thoughts not caught up to reality.

"I want to spend time with you," Estherfern explained. It felt like someone carved her pelt off, leaving her exposed. "I want to share your stew with you and your littermates." Thunderpaw blinked slowly. It took her so long to reply, Estherfern was about to repeat herself, just in case her pounding heart muffled her words.

"Do you want to learn the sign for littermates while the stew finishes cooking?" Thunderpaw gulped. The tip of her tail twitched wildly as her earlier joy bloomed across her face once more.

"If it means time with you," Estherfern sighed.

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Troutpool: 36, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Spikecrash: 50, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Sandpaw: 6, male, mediator apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

(Drumtooth: 23, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Thunderpaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice,

(Stormpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, loves to eat)

(Clammask: 69, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Brightpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Wolverinepaw: 7, female, warrior apprentice, compassionate, always asking questions)

(Yarrowpaw: 10, female, warrior apprentice, thoughtful, stares at fire)

“You’re sure I can’t go to the gathering?” Lakepaw pouted.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he shook his head, “it’s bad timing but you have to stay and rest. There will be another gathering next moon.” 

Sagetooth, laying on her side with her eyes shut tight, asked, “Will you be alright on your own, Oddstripe?” 

“Oh, yes,” he smiled and ran a few licks over her fur. “I’m sure I can manage. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway, I’m just going to go sit below the Cornerstones and be quiet.”

“Hmf,” Sagetooth muttered something to herself but didn’t seem to have the energy to give any further commands. Oddstripe sighed in relief. 

“Hey, dad,” Sparrowsway ducked his head into the den, “you ready to go?” 

“Yep,” smiled Oddstripe. “I was just finishing up. You two get your rest, I’ll be back later tonight.” 

“Okay…” Lakepaw stared wistfully out at the night but kept her head on her paws. Oddstripe touched his nose to Lakepaw’s ear and padded out after his son. The Gathering party was congregating on the hill as the last stragglers made their way to the group. 

Russetfrond was untangling himself from his two eager kittens. Bluekit and Yellowkit clung to his legs begging in chorus to be allowed to go with him. Oddstripe winced as he watched the patience draining from Russetfrond’s face bit by bit. 

“I already said no,” he growled firmly, wiggling his paws out of their grasp. 

Bluekit whined and plopped down on his belly looking dejected but Yellowkit leapt for his father’s paw again, giggling, and cried, “Come onnnnn! I’ll be good, I promise!” 

“Enough!” Russetfrond snapped, nipping sharply at the kit who squealed and dropped into a crouch with his ears pressed back. Russetfrond picked him up by the scruff -- which was quite the feat given how much he had grown in his four moons -- and set him beside Bluekit, saying, “You can’t even be good right now! You’d both better learn to behave before you become apprentices or you’ll be stuck on tick duty for every Gathering.” 

“Sorry, father,” Bluekit said, sitting up straight and tucking his paws close to his body. 

“Sorry,” mumbled Yellowkit, looking at the ground. 

“Speak up,” Russetfrond ordered and Yellowkit straightened up. 

“Sorry, father,” he echoed. 

“That’s better,” huffed Russetfrond. “Now behave while I’m gone and maybe I’ll catch you a special treat, alright?” Both boys nodded and Russetfrond leaned in to plant a tender lick on both of their heads. “Thank you, boys. I love you.” 

“Love you,” the kits chorused. 

“I do not envy those kits,” Aldertail whispered to Oddstripe, having come up beside him at some point. 

Oddstripe tried to push the grimace from his face and said, “No, me neither. Poor things.” 

“He means well,” Sparrowsway said with a small grimace of his own. 

“I know,” Oddstripe purred, butting up against Sparrowsway’s shoulder. Then, glancing at Aldertail, he asked, “are you sure you don’t want to come tonight?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t like crowds very much.” 

“Okay,” he smiled and bumped his head lightly against hers. “Enjoy your night, I’ll see you after the Gathering.” 

“‘Kay,” she blushed, shuffling her paws. “Have fun.” 

“Will do,” laughed Oddstripe and he twined his tail with Sparrowsway’s as they went to join the others. 

“Okay,” Goldenstar was saying, craning her neck to look over the crowd, “Russetfrond, Floodstrike, Scorchplume, Fogpaw, Branchbark… Ah! Oddstripe and Sparrowsay, that’s everyone. Let’s go.” 

“Have fun!” Slatepaw called after them. 

“You too!” cried Fogpaw, rearing up on her hind paws to wave goodbye. 

They made their way through the fields and over the river to the Cornerstones in the heavy evening heat. Even without the sun, the air was unseasonably warm and slightly humid, clinging to their fur like it wanted to slow them down. When they arrived, Oddstripe paused to take in the scene, enjoying the lively thrum of conversation. It seemed they were the last to arrive, all three of the other leaders sitting atop the Cornerstones already.

 “Floodstrike!” a pair of young EarthClan warriors called out and Floodstrike split off of the group to join them. Scorchplume and Fogpaw skirted the group to find a good vantage point to sit together. Branchbark waved his tail at a pair of SkyClan warriors and moved to join them.

“Aww, no Ospreymask?” one of them asked.

“Not tonight,” he said, “you’ll have to settle for me.” 

“I don’t think Pebblefall likes you like that,” laughed the other and the first warrior shoved him hard. 

“Whatever, bee brain.” 

Oddstripe chuckled to himself and turned to Sparrowsway who was standing next to him. “Go on and mingle, sweetheart.” 

“I’m alright,” said Sparrowsway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Why don’t I walk you to the front?”

“If you really want to,” Oddstripe said, brow furrowing with worry, “but don’t you have friends you’d rather talk to than your old man?” 

“Nah,” Sparrowsway shrugged and smiled but Oddstripe wasn’t sure he believed the expression. “I always enjoy talking with you.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Oddstripe said as he let Sparrowsway escort him through the crowd. “You need friends who aren’t your father. It’s good for you.” 

“I’m alright,” Sparrowsway said again. “Most the cats my age are closer with Floodstrike anyway.” 

“What about Dawnbird?” Oddstripe offered. “She seems like such a polite young lady, I’m sure you’d get along well.” 

Sparrowsway pursed his lips to hide a wince. “Maybe. Seriously though, dad, I’m fine.” 

“Oh, alright,” Oddstripe chewed his lip fretfully and stopped to give Sparrowsway’s cowlick a few firm licks. “I just worry about you.”

“Don’t,” Sparrowsway laughed and ducked away from the licks. “I’m happy, dad, I really am.” 

“Okay…” Oddstripe stepped back towards the Cornerstones. “Just don’t hold yourself back from having fun, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t,” said Sparrowsway.

Deciding he would just have to be satisfied with that answer, Oddstripe turned away and padded over to where Blazingbrush and Stormwhisper were sitting near the front of the crowd. Stormwhisper brightened and twitched an ear in greeting as he approached. 

“Oh, where’s Tangletooth?” Oddstripe asked, looking around. 

“Coyotechaser said he stayed home tonight,” said Blazingbrush. “They didn’t want to risk him overexerting himself in the heat.” 

“I can’t blame them,” said Oddstripe. “Sagetooth is home with heat stroke tonight.” 

Stormwhisper inhaled worriedly through his teeth. “Stars, I hope she’s alright.” 

“She just needs some rest,” Oddstripe reassured him, “don’t worry.” Stormwhisper nodded, looking at his paws.

“Well, we might as well enjoy their absence for the night,” Blazingbrush grinned. “I mean how often do the three of us get to hang out, just us?” 

“Not often,” Stormwhisper admitted. 

Oddstripe laughed. “Why not? Let’s make the most of it.” Looking at Stormwhisper, he asked, “How are the kittens doing, by the way? They’re apprentices now aren’t they?” 

“Yeah,” nodded Stormwhisper, “Two moons in already.” 

“Oh, that’s right!” Oddstripe smiled remembering the Gathering where that had been announced, “Bluffpaw is apprenticed to Orangestar, isn’t he.” 

“That’s right,” Stormwhisper said. His expression softened as he continued, “Finchpaw and Rainpaw have been coming by lately to ask me about StarClan. I’m so glad they take the time. I miss the little beasts, even though I’m not their father or anything.” He looked at his paws again and Oddstripe couldn’t help but smile. Stars, he was terrible at hiding things. It was adorable.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “My kits grew up so fast! One day I was their whole world and then the next they were running off in all different directions -- into fights! Oh, it was terrifying -- is terrifying! But I just have to trust that StarClan is watching over them, you know?”

“Mhm,” Blazingbrush nodded. “I get so worried every time one of the apprentices comes back with even a bruise on them! There’s a reason I chose healing over battle practice.” She chuckled a bit and looked out over the crowd as if she were searching for someone and Oddstripe suddenly wondered if she had more in common with him and Stormwhisper than he had previously imagined. 

“Alright!” Snowstar’s voice pierced the air and silenced the chatter of the crowd. “I think it’s about time we get started, yes?” Oddstripe shifted his posture to look up at her, putting that line of thinking away for now.

“I’ll start the meeting off by saying that greenleaf has been good to SkyClan. Prey is running well, even as we head into leaffall the Clan is well fed. We’ve accepted some new blood into our Clan, two cats from over the mountains who have taken the names Rockylake and Hobbleheart. They’re here with us tonight and we welcome them as new members of SkyClan.” 

She gestured with her nose to a pair of cats sitting with Charredbranch and Greyvoice, a solid brown she-cat and a solid black tom. Oddtripe smiled in their direction, wondering which one was which. The crowd cheered weakly for them before quieting down again.

“Thankfully,” Snowstar said, “SkyClan has no further business. Orangestar?” 

“Thank you,” Orangestar smiled, stepping forward. “I am disappointed to say that the rogues from the city have started hunting in our forest again. Only one hunting party has been caught but at least two more have left clear signs of their trespassing on our land. That, in conjunction with the warning I’m sure we all received from RisingClan earlier this moon,” here she paused to glance at the other leaders, all of whom nodded, “I think the possibility of a continued war is not unlikely.” 

“I agree,” Goldenstar said, taking a small step forward. “It’s only a matter of time before the city cats start another fight. It would be in all of our best interests to have a plan in place for when they do.”

“What I’m hearing,” Flightstar interrupted, “is that you both don’t know how to defend your own territories against a group of kittypets.”

“These kittypets are trained fighters,” Goldenstar scowled. “You were at both of the battles we’ve had with them, you must have recognized that they’re no small threat.” 

“They have numbers,” he said dismissively, “nothing more.”

“You’re joking,” Orangestar blurted in disbelief.

“Underestimating these rogues is not helpful,” Snowstar added. “They took Darkmoon’s life, lest we forget.”

“And Darkmoon alone,” said Flightstar. 

“And Smokyrose,” Goldenstar scowled.

“Who was a mediator,” continued Flightstar stubbornly. “She could not have been difficult to overpower.” Oddstripe’s tail bristled instinctively and somewhere in the crowd he heard Fogpaw growling. The energy of the Gathering was starting to shift in a dangerous direction.

“Be careful not to speak ill of the dead,” warned Snowstar, sensing the change.

“I speak ill of no one,” Flightstar’s lip curled as he spoke. “I am simply stating the fact that these rogues are not the elite fighting force you two try to make them out to be. This all smells to me like a ploy to hunt in our territories now that leaffall is setting in and I’ll have none of it.” Tumblefang yowled her support from the middle of the crowd. 

“Look!” Stormwhisper called out, rising to his feet. “The moon!” 

With a chorus of gasps, the assembled cats threw their gazes skyward to see a cluster of wispy clouds in the early stages of choking out the moon’s light. Oddstripe stood too, eyes wide. In all his time as a healer, this had never happened, even though Sagetooth had told him stories of it before. 

“See?” Oddstripe recognized Scorchplume’s voice. “StarClan disapproves of your stubborn refusal to help the other Clans!” 

“No,” Tumblefang shouted back, “they’re sick of cats like you trying to take advantage of the rest of us!” 

“Cats like me?” Scorchplume laughed. 

“Easy,” Goldenstar said, projecting authoritatively. “We should all work to be less contentious with each other. Let’s calm down and pray we regain their favor.” 

From the east side of the clearing, a new voice cried out at the top of its lungs, “Help!” Oddstripe whipped around, Aldertail’s panicked shouts spiking fear through his chest.

“Aldertail?” Goldenstar gasped. “Aldertail, what’s going on?” 

“I-it’s the camp!” she sobbed, skidding to a halt as every eye turned in her direction. “The Exalted, th-they’re attacking the camp!” 

Russetfrond took off, leaping from his seat beside Bogmist and weaving through the crowd with a speed and purpose Oddstripe had rarely seen him use. Sparrowsway fell into step right behind him, his mentor’s dutiful second paw. 

“Fogpaw!” Scorchplume hissed as her apprentice took off after them.

“Come on,” Floodstrike looked at his friends before darting into the trees as well. Fishtrick took off after him, her ginger tail streaming out behind her, and Boldmoth stared up at Orangestar in bewilderment. Orangestar exchanged a look with Goldenstar then nodded. 

“EarthClan, let’s show those rogues what happens when they mess with warriors!” Orangestar shouted and then she and Goldenstar leapt down from the Cornerstones to follow. 

“SkyClan, likewise!” Snowstar boomed. “To war!” 

Everything was happening so fast. As more cats streamed out of the clearing, Oddstripe fought his way over to Aldertail. She was shaking, eyes shut tight, pressed down into a tiny ball on the ground. 

“Aldertail!” he cried, curling around her. “Are you alright?”

Branchbark joined them, eyes wide. “Aldertail, are you hurt?” 

“No, no,” Aldertail sobbed, shaking her head. “I ran as soon as I saw them! I’m so sorry, I’m such a coward!” 

“Oh, no!” Oddstripe pressed his head close to hers. “You came and got help! That was the right thing to do.” 

“I have to go,” Branchbark said, looking torn.

Oddstripe nodded to him. “I know. We’ll be fine, go help the others.” Branchbark nodded and bounced on his feet before taking off in a sprint. Aldertail pressed closer to Oddstripe’s side and whimpered.

Behind them, FallenClan had congregated at the base of the Cornerstones, talking in hushed voices, and Oddstripe heard Blazingbrush say, “StarClan’s sign is clear. The other Clans need our help.” 

“They have their help,” Flightstar growled. “We don’t need to get involved.” 

“What if our warriors make the difference between victory and defeat?” asked Ryestripe. 

“If they were better at defending their borders, they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place,” spat Tumblefang. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ryestripe growled back. 

“Enough!” Flightstar snapped. “We’re going home. Anyone who wants to go to RisingClan’s camp can stay there permanently, understood?” There was a long pause then he stormed off into the woods in the opposite direction as the rest of the cats had gone. One by one, the FallenClan warriors followed him. 

Blazingbrush stared after her Clanmates, mouth open. “But-” She looked at the deputy, the last cat to go, and said, “Pigeoncover- You have to convince him! Surely, we can’t just do nothing!” 

Pigeoncover stood still for a beat, not looking at her. Then they softly said, “You’re already on thin ice, Blazingbrush. It would be best if you came along.” Blazingbrush looked like she had been struck. Still unable to meet her gaze, Pigeoncover slank into the woods after their father, leaving Blazingbrush, Oddstripe, and Aldertail alone in the clearing together. 

Oddstripe wanted to go to the other healer but he didn’t want to tear himself away from Aldertail’s shaking body. He opened his mouth but Blazingbrush looked at him and the words escaped his mind. They looked at each other for a long, hollow moment. 

“I’m so sorry,” Blazingbrush said. 

“It’s okay,” Oddstripe replied. “I understand.”