Welcome to TurtleClan!

"Did... did that really happen?" Quiver gaped as Splashstone finished his song. It all sounded so fantastical, the spirits of dead cats appearing and speaking to their living friends... well, now that she thought about it, it sounded a little spooky. But the way these TurtleClanners spoke of it, they hadn't seen it that way.

"It did," Dustjump, the old molly who had bound her broken paw, confirmed, her chin held high and pride glowing in her eyes. "We were all there, we all saw them that night."

Quiver crouched down, flattening her ears. "Are they... going to appear again?" She wasn't ready to meet any all-seeing ghosts. What if they didn't like her staying with TurtleClan while she healed? What if they found her as strange and off-putting as most cats seemed to? What if...? She felt her heart rate starting to pick up, heard her own blood rushing in her ears.

"No," Spindlefleck's tail draped over her shoulders pulled her out of her head more than her initial words. "Currentheart and Pearl said they couldn't just appear at will, and they selected Dustjump as their contact among us, besides."

“Thank you, Brokenmast,” Shellstar replied calmly. Internally she wanted to wail. An unknown, aggressive group of cats was the last thing the burgeoning TurtleClan needed to deal with right now, so soon after leafbare. Pearl might have honored them with the title of “warriors”, but the truth was that all of them were more hunters than fighters. She knew that Currentheart and Sandtail had encouraged the other cats to start sparring with each other, but it had never been as big of a priority as finding food, and she feared that against a group of cats both belligerent and intelligent, they would all come up lacking. And yet it was her duty to prepare her Clan as best she could for the potential threat.

Shellstar clawed her way up the Tallmast, taking a moment to let the cool air off the ocean ruffle her fur and calm her mind before she gathered her Clan. “Let all cats old enough to hunt gather here beneath the Tallmast for a Clan meeting!” Her summons had changed since they’d officially become TurtleClan, but her campmates responded just the same, heads popping out of dens all around camp. It was a good time for a meeting. All of TurtleClan was in camp just after sunhigh, sharing tongues and enjoying a midday meal before returning to their various duties, so they gathered quickly and completely–she even caught a glimpse of Quiver, broken paw bound tight against a branch, crouched awkwardly just outside of the entrance of Dustjump’s den. That was good. The molly was a bit jumpy and strange, but TurtleClan was small, and they needed more cats familiar with the area and the threats it had to offer–Currentheart’s death had proved that much. Perhaps they could convince her to stay after she healed. 

“Cats of TurtleClan,” Shellstar began, “Brokenmast has been speaking with Quiver,” –the cream colored molly jumped at the mention of her name–”and he found many similarities in her story to the cats that attacked him and Margo some seasons ago. We suspect these cats are an organized group, and fear that they may cause trouble for TurtleClan down the line.”

“They will,” Tidechaser’s lilting tone drifted up from the back of the clearing. Shellstar stiffened.

“You sound familiar with them,” she said, letting her words fall flatly.

“I know of them,” he corrected, “they call themselves the Children of Salt and Sand. They’re a group of cats that believe only cats who are direct descendents of the First Children–the first cats to walk these beaches–deserve to live upon the shores. They think that everyone else has a duty to either serve as they see fit, or move far, far away.”

Whispering broke out among the Clan at Tidechaser’s revelation. 

“Is that so,” Shellstar grated out each word individually. This was more than a passing rumor he’d picked up this Newleaf. No, this was something that Tidechaser had known for moons, probably before they’d even wrecked on the beach. And he hadn’t said a word up until now. Not when they’d arrived, not when Brokenmast had been left for dead by these brutes, and not any time after that, either. Shellstar tried to control her anger, forcing her fur flat. There was one more thing she had to know right away.

“How soon will they become a problem for us?”

“Not for moons yet. Maybe seasons. They’ll eventually want to claim the whole beach, but their attention is focused further upshore for now, and even after that, they’ll want to take care of any lone cats before they try to force out a larger group.”

“I see. Tidechaser, come speak with me in my den for more details. The rest of you are dismissed for now. No cat goes anywhere near the borders alone until we know more.”

Sandtail dipped his head in understanding, waving the rest of the Clan forward to organize them into patrols for their evening duties. Shellstar barely noticed. Her ears were buzzing with fury as she stalked stiffly into her den to await Tidechaser. He was only a few pawsteps behind her, and as soon as he’d passed through the old window she rounded on him, back arched. 

“Where did all of that come from?” Shellstar exploded. “How long have you known that we were sleeping in a fox’s den, just waiting for it to come back.”

“I’ve known from the beginning. The group was founded two seasons before you all arrived here.”

At least he wasn’t lying about it now. “And you never thought to tell us?”

“You never thought to ask,” he countered.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Shellstar spat, “you shouldn’t need me to ask you about whether or not we were all in danger since the moment we arrived here. You must know how it looks–how it’s always looked. You showing up to join a strange group of cats with no explanation when you clearly didn’t care enough to help us during the wreck, the way you always held yourself apart from us, doing exactly as you were told and nothing more. So give me a real answer. One that gives me the tiniest reason why I should allow you to remain in TurtleClan when you’ve been lying through your teeth to us the whole time.”

“I never lied,” Tidechaser protested. “But I didn’t tell you the whole truth, either,” he sighed. “Very well. You do deserve to know the whole truth. But it isn’t such an interesting tale as you might believe. From the very beginning, the Children have wanted me among their ranks. I come from a very old bloodline, and so I was good enough to join their clique. But I didn’t want that. The beach has plenty of resources for those who know how to find them. Cats of old blood, cats of new blood, anyone who can survive here has a right to stay. So I turned them down. But they were… relentless. Following me wherever I denned, nagging and nagging me to join them, despite the fact that I’ve always kept to myself, despite the fact that I told them that I didn’t believe in their cause. So when you landed here, it felt like the winds of Fate himself had blown you right into my paws. You were a group to pit against the children, with enough cats to stand up to them and possibly put a stop to their crusade. But as the moons passed I… found myself starting to care about what happened to you all. I started to think of myself as one of you. I didn’t want to use you like I’d originally planned, but by then…well, how could I tell you what I knew? How could I excuse holding it back for so long? It was easier to just… not say anything at all. Not do anything at all.” Tidechaser’s eyes had grown unfocused, but they snapped back to reality in that heartbeat. “And then Currentheart died. It made me realize that holding things back, even when I didn’t think them relevant, still had a cost. A cost I’m tired of paying. It… isn’t easy for me to do this. To be open and honest. But I have to try. I have to change if I want to be part of TurtleClan. And… I do,” he admitted.

Shellstar crouched in silence, digesting his story, parsing through it for any lies or discrepancies. He seemed earnest but Tidechaser had always been… distant. Cold. Mysterious. If any cat would be able to lie like a fox, it would be him. And yet… if she spent her days looking over her shoulder for threats at her back, she couldn’t focus on the greater danger ahead. Shellstar made her decision. “I believe you,” she said. “And I want you to tell me everything you know about how these Children of Salt and Sand go about conducting this crusade of theirs…”

“We’re not far from the Thunderpath,” Spindlefleck murmured, voice low. “Do you think..?” She trailed off into a tense silence, and Splashstone knew she was remembering the kittypet she’d found on the edge of the stinking black stone during her apprentice days.

“Relax, Spindle,” Splashstone did his best to keep his tone light but gentle. Carefree. “The blood-scent isn’t thick enough for that. It’s probably just a loner with a cut.”

Spindlefleck’s fur started to flatten, but Sandtail remained on guard, and Splashstone felt his heart break all over again for the cream colored tom. Even with Currentheart’s assurance that his death had not been Sandtail’s fault, he clearly still held himself at least partially responsible for the tragedy. “We still need to be careful,” Sandtail warned. “We have no idea what could have injured them. We’ll proceed slowly, and I’ll take the lead.”

Splashstone dipped his head to the deputy’s command, setting off after the tom at a creeping pace. They could’ve safely gone faster with Splashstone in the lead–he knew he had the best nose on the patrol–but this wasn’t the time or place to challenge orders, so he slunk along silently after Sandtail.

The patrol finally broke through the forest’s undergrowth to an open stretch of grass and mud in a dip beside the Thunderpath. As Splashstone felt his paws squish into the deep mud, he let out a quiet hiss of annoyance. No wonder he’d never been this way before–no cat in their right mind would ever come this way. So what was a wanderer doing here?

The blood scent led them to a stinking stone opening beneath the Thunderpath. Splashstone could just make out a cream colored ball of fur just inside the entrance of the hole–the source of the blood scent. Sandtail slowed their approach even further, and finally bade them wait with a flick of his tail when they were ten fox lengths away. Splashstone crouched down with an internal groan, his paws sinking deeper into the muddy earth as Sandtail approached the ball of fur alone. 

“Hello?” He called cautiously.

The pile of fur erupted into motion, a skinny cream colored molly leaping to her paws and scrambling a few steps deeper into the tunnel. “Please don’t kill me!” She wailed, “I’m leaving, I really am, I just needed to rest a moment, please give me another chance to go and you’ll never see me again! I-I swear it!”

“What?” Sandtail sputtered. Caution morphed into confusion, then concern in the face of the molly’s abject terror. 

Splashstone and Spindlefleck were making their way to their deputy’s side before he’d even finished signaling to them that it was safe. “We’re not going to hurt you,” Spindlefleck murmured, “we want to help. That injury to your paw looks painful.”

“I-I” The molly gulped in a few deep breaths, her trembling easing just a little. “You mean… you’re not with them, then?”

“We’re not sure what you mean,” Spindlefleck soothed, “we’ve been living here on the beach for a few seasons now, but we’ve never attacked or driven away any cat, and we certainly wouldn’t hurt you. Can you tell us your name? And explain what happened to you?” 

The instructions seemed to be soothing the jumpy molly, her fur was starting to flatten, and her eyes were no longer quite so wide. “My name is Quiver,” she began.

Quiver, Splashstone eyed the way that her three good legs were still shaking just a little. It suits her.

“I lived in a driftwood pile much farther up the beach,” Quiver continued, “I kept to myself, mostly, hunting along the shoreline in the tidepools. Th-then, a little over a quarter moon ago, this group of cats showed up. They were very strange, told me that I needed to leave–that–that I didn’t deserve to set foot on the sand, and that if I didn’t go, they were going to make me leave. They said three sunrises to find somewhere in the forest before they would remove me from the beach themselves. Now, I thought that was just ridiculous, I mean, I’ve never seen them around these parts before, I figured that they were just talking big, the way some cats do, and that so long as I cleared out for a few days they’d lose interest and move on, so I went to stay up in the cliff caves–you know the ones, lots of little nooks and tunnels?”

“We know it,” Sandtail confirmed, his tone just barely impatient. The cliff caves were past TurtleClan’s hunting grounds, but Splashstone had been up that way himself a pawful of times before they’d established boundaries, looking for other survivors. “Please, continue,” Sandtail prompted after the silence had stretched a few more heartbeats.

“Yes! Right! Well, they found me just a day later. Said they’d given me plenty of warning, and that now I needed to be taught a-a lesson, so one of them took my foreleg and–and–” Quiver broke off into a fit of trembling and panting. She didn’t need to continue–the rest of the story was obvious. 

“We’re going to take you back to our camp,” Sandtail said in a low, steady voice. “We have a cat there who can heal–a cat who can help you.” The deputy turned his striking green gaze to Splashstone. “Splash, could you run ahead and tell Dustjump to prepare for an injury? Tell her it looks serious, but that the patient doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger of death,” he dropped his voice to barely a whisper on the last word, but Splashstone still Quiver’s ear twitch nervously. “Spindlefleck and I will help her back.”

She heard him arrive more than she saw him. Quiet, muffled pawsteps brushing over the sand. "Why did you follow me?" Spindlefleck asked quietly.

"No reason," Tidechaser replied evenly. "But I know what it's like, to sit here, hoping that the cat you're longing to see will appear for you."

"And did they?" Spindlefleck thought she knew the answer.

"No," he replied, "and neither will Currentheart. Not tonight. Not to you."

His words stung, but she supposed they were true. Pearl and Currentheart had named Dustjump as the bridge between their worlds. They sat in silence for a while before she had the courage to break it again.

"I guess I hoped... that being here would help me make sense of it all. My life isn't turning out at all the way I thought it would."

"No cat's does."

ALLEGIANCES (as of Moon 12)

LEADER: Shellstar- A black tabby and white she-cat

DEPUTY: Sandtail- A cream and white tom

HEALER: Dustjump- A long-furred brown tabby and white she-cat

ADULTS:

Tidechaser- A large, unusually dappled pale tom with long, fluffy fur and unusual blue eyes

Foamfeather- A large, long-furred dark brown tabby and white tom

Brokenmast- A long furred, speckled golden tom with a broken back

*Splashstone- An unusually dappled dark brown and white tom

Spindlefleck- An unusually dappled creamy ginger she-cat

SUMMARY OF YEAR ONE:

After a terrible storm at sea wrecked the ship that they were travelling on, a small group of kittypets led by the former ship's cat, Shell, made it safely to shore. Not knowing exactly where they were or what dangers might face them, not to mention if there were any other survivors, the cats elected to remain near the area where they first came ashore, building a camp amidst the shipwreck after the storm subsided. While many of the cats decided to take new names to reflect the great change in their lives, Dustjump, an old kittypet unwilling to let go of her past decided to keep her name.

The survivors were quickly joined by a mysterious local tom named Tidechaser, quiet and stoic and somewhat distant, but a vital source of knowledge in this new land they found themselves in. Before long, the survivors had the beginnings of a real community. Shell, the de-facto leader, decided to pair young cats up with teachers so that they could learn to navigate their new home safely. Tidechaser was given the first apprentice to train, a tom named Foam who was already nearing adulthood. Shortly after, Shell began to oversee the training of a young tom named Splash, and assigned her young second-in-command, Sand, to train another young tom named Current. While Current and Sand initially clashed, they quickly came to care deeply for one another and grew into a very effective duo.

After a few moons of living on the beach, the survivors of the wreck decided to establish a territory for themselves, not so much to defend its borders, but to give their group boundaries in which to roam so no cat would stray too far and get themselves into trouble. While establishing these boundaries, the survivors encountered a familiar face: a badly injured tom named Sergio that had been on the ship with the rest of them. After being helped back to camp, Sergio revealed that he and another cat, Margo had come ashore further up the beach, and had believed themselves to be the only survivors for moons. While Margo did her best to help Sergio, who was suffering from a spinal fracture caused by a broken piece of mast hitting him in the storm, she was eventually killed by vicious rogues who drove Sergio out as well, not deeming him worth the trouble of killing. Upon hearing the story of the other survivors, Sergio decided to take a new name--Brokenmast-- to represent the great change in his life, and to dedicate himself to healing from his terrible injury. As moons passed, cats grew and changed. Foam and Splash both finished their training, and Foam began to oversee the tutelage of Spindle, the last kit from the wreck. Dustjump began to be plagued by strange dreams of a starry cat named Pearl who had died in the wreck. She initially thought little of it, but after hearing stories from Tidechaser regarding local legends, she began to wonder if they were true, and eventually shared her strange visions with him, though neither of them knew what it meant.