wreckclan's happenings

“But what about Grouseshadow?” Oriolepaw asks, lashing his tail. “Doesn’t he need elder leaves for his sprain?”

“It’ll certainly be helpful if you can find any. But he’s not going to die of a sprain anytime soon, trust me,” Fireshimmer says. “Most cats don’t die of sprains, I would know.” She moves past him then, and pointed her nose in one direction. “But if you need a place to start, why not try looking over there first?” “Do you know something’s there?” Oriolepaw asks. “Can you feel it?” “Feel what?” Fireshimmer asks.

“The herbs,” he says. He pads past her, pinning his eyes onto the distance. “Do they call to you? Is a StarClan cat whispering in your ear right now guiding you to where it is?”

“Your faith is commendable,” Fireshimmer says, “but StarClan’s given you a nose, ears, and eyes for a reason.”

“So I could receive their messages.”

“So you could track down the herbs on your own,” Fireshimmer says. “I’m sure that StarClan cats can’t be there with you all the time, my shells of power told me.” She watches confusion flicker over Oriolepaw’s eyes before she continues on. “So trust yourself first to identify and find the herbs that you need. You’ll be fine.”

Oriolepaw is silent for a moment before he nods slowly. “Alright.” He sighs. “Alright.” And with that, he tastes the air and tries to listen for the sound of leaves rustling together for any herbs that they could bring back. He closes his eyes for a moment, opens them again, sniffs the air one more time, then he moves forward.

Fireshimmer’s steps are so quiet behind his that he almost forgets that she’s there until she brushes up against them. “Whoa there, dude, you almost got it,” she says. “But look behind you.”

Oriolepaw pauses and looks over his shoulder, and sure enough, there it is–thyme.

He gathers it in the way he’s felt he’s practiced hundreds of times and as Fireshimmer does the same, she smiles at him. “You really got it, you know. Can you tell me what that smelled like?”

“It’s…very earthy. Very strong, pungent,” Oriolepaw says.

“Good. What does it look like?”

“It sort of has like a woody stem on it?” Oriolepaw flicks the tip of his tail in thought. “And its leaves are very small and very green.” “Good, just like you,” Fireshimmer says. Before Oriolepaw could ask what that means, she continues on, “Now let’s gather these and see if we can find anything else to bring back to camp. And this time, let’s try not to walk right past it, okay? After this is done, I’ll share that juicy octopus I saw with you.”

Now Willowchest is asking herself what she was thinking as she takes Rimepaw out to gather moss, and the younger molly’s paws are stamping against the ground as she reluctantly follows her. “But can’t we do something more…I don’t know, exciting?” Rimepaw asks, her tail drooping low. “Like practicing hunting and seeing who can catch the most amount of prey before the sun sets! Or beating each other up–without claws, of course. Or putting a thorn in Baysplash’s nest. Or collecting bugs! Why gathering moss?”

“First of all, I already thorned Baysplash’s nest a few days ago,” Willowchest says. “Second of all, I think you’ve already got enough dead bugs in your nest. Third of all, this will really help if you do it consistently. I mean, I get it, I get it, gathering moss isn’t the most exhilarating thing to do in the world but does everything have to be? This is only moss-tly harmless, after all.”

Rimepaw flicks some dirt onto Willowchest’s snout.

“Okay,” Willowchest coughs. “Not my best, I’ll admit. But I promise that gathering moss is going to help build up some strong muscles and make you the best warrior that you can–hey, where’re you going? You know, if you fail to gather all the moss all of it is just going to clump together and create the Mossster! You don’t want any Mosssters lurking around in our beaches, do you?”

Huh. Did the Mossster only ever work on me?

No matter what Willowchest does, however, she can’t quite get Rimepaw to take it seriously. And by the next morning after Rimepaw’s received a thorough scolding from Puddledawn, Willowchest finds her waiting by the fresh-kill pile. Willowchest approaches Rimepaw again, raising her chin slightly. “Alright, well, I hope that you’re ready to learn again today, otherwise Stormstar might just put both of us on moss duty for the next moon. And trust me, you don’t want to hear what either Puddledawn or Baysplash would have to say about that–stuff of nightmares, you hear me?”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Rimepaw asks, tilting her head.

“That depends, do you consider smug looks and condescending mews ‘that bad?’” Willowchest retorts, lashing her tail. “Nobody likes a stuffynose, alright? They fill your ears with dust and make you sneeze on it.”

“What?”

“Now come on,” Willowchest says. She sighs, and lowers her voice this time. “Look, we can do something more exciting this time, okay? I’ll even let you catch the biggest, fattest fish in the ocean…so long as you don’t challenge me. Then I’d catch something even bigger, but when has a little competition ever hurt anyone? But–no, I should focus on teaching you. So…can we at least try to work together today? So we can both learn things from each other.”

Plus, she’d look ridiculous if that whole dramatic mini speech she made to Stormstar about being ‘the best possible mentor for Rimepaw’ would go to waste.

Still, what she said is enough to make Rimepaw nod her head tentatively, her blue eyes deepening with contemplation. “Alright,” Rimepaw finally says. “I’ll try harder this time. Sorry, about, uh…yesterday. I just thought I’d do something more–”

“–Dramatic?” Willowchest purrs. “Totally representative of all your future potential at once? Yeah, I get it. But let’s just start with small bites at that fish for now, okay? I’ll teach you how to hunt and use your claws and teeth for things other than nagging at other cats–which is also a very useful skill!–and then we can hold all the hunting competitions we want. I can’t promise that you’ll win many of them, though.”

“Okay, I get it,” Rimepaw says, her voice hardening–not out of hostility, but out of eagerness. “Fine! Show me how to fish then and I’ll catch anything better than you can!”

Well, that’s done it.

“Alright, I get it,” Puddledawn says. He’s not very happy, but he doesn’t actually hate the current arrangement. Just wishes that Stormstar gave him more prior warning that they’ll be doing this together before jumping right into it. “So what are we talking about now to…get going, on getting to know each other? And I want to bring something back for Lilackit too.”

“You’ll find something for her, don’t worry,” Fireshimmer says. “I’ve found the most fascinating snail while I was wandering around here one day. Do you think she likes snails?”

“She likes them but wouldn’t ever want to touch one, no,” Puddledawn says.

“Then maybe she’d like more shells,” Stormstar says. “Of the non-snail variety.”

“I think she’s already had enough shells,” Puddledawn sighs. “Her nest is nearly overflowing with them at this point.”

“Speaking of shells,” Fireshimmer says, her tail lashing slowly from side to side as she pads ahead of them. She lifts her nose into the air and sniffs, and while she does so she says, “Sorry–thought I smelled some herbs. Over there, I’ll show you how to harvest them–but anyway, speaking of shells, I really want to talk about my perfect little shells of power. I keep them around the den and they give off these ‘energies.’ Have you felt them before?”

Puddledawn is hesitant as he follows her, watching as she sniffs at the herbs. “I don’t think I ever have,” he admits. He really doesn’t want to come across as rude to Fireshimmer, but…

“I have,” Stormstar cuts in. “It’s so obvious, it’s like it hits you as soon as you walk in, and–” He rambles on, and meanwhile Fireshimmer tracks down the herbs she was looking for. She wonders how long she could convince them that she actually does believe in these things.

“So with that being said, I’m celebrating one moon with me as leader by handing out storm shells for everybody!” Stormstar reveals the rest of the shells that he’s been sitting on. “Come on forward, everyone! And be sure to thank your leader, but remember that our survival as a Clan wouldn’t be possible without you.”

Fireshimmer comes forward, a little sparkle in her eye as she leans down to pick out a ‘storm shell’ for herself. “It’s a nice effort, you know,” she says. She moves out of the way slightly as Rimekit and Lilackit begin to poke around the pile, bickering with each other over it.

“You really think so?” Stormstar asks quietly. “Puddledawn tried to shut the idea down the whole time.” She hums, picks out a shell, and then beckons him to come follow her, which he does. “I just think it’s a decent way of trying to keep the Clan together, gathering all these shells yourself,” Fireshimmer says. “But then again, I am a newcomer here, so what do I know about it?” Her eyes twinkle again. “Besides, it’s much easier getting you to gather all my ‘shells of power’ so I don’t have to.” “Are you saying you’re only using me for shell collection?” Stormstar asks, half-amused and half-offended.

“Well, I’m not saying it’s the only thing you’re good for,” Fireshimmer says. “And I’m sure Puddledawn will come around to you soon–and you to him. We kind of need that for a functioning group, don’t we?”

WreckClan’s been through so, so much (and Stormchaser wonders if the first thing he should do as leader is change the name). Cats have died over the last leafbare, and even more left when they learned who was chosen to lead.

The bastard kittypet son of Patchskip. The kitten who had always torn up his own nest in his sleep and always refused to give any reason why. The one who had led his Clanmates into disastrous battles in their last war with PeatClan, and now has still somehow been chosen as leader. And if the stars had their way, things would be different.

Still, when only one cat comes down to greet him and give him a life, Stormchaser–Stormstar gladly accepts his destiny. This is it now, and if anyone else wants to leave then they can go shove their noses into a shark’s mouth over it. He’ll be a good leader, a great one even, and he’ll prove all those who doubted him wrong.

Even if he had to turn toward the dark to do it.

“For now,” Newtpaw says, pressing his nose to Stormstar’s forehead, “take this gift, to help you see the dawn behind the darkness.”

And Stormstar doesn’t seem quite happy to see him, judging by the droop in his ears. But Puddledawn has to give him credit at least for managing to suppress it. “May I ask what you’re doing?” Puddledawn asks him. The tip of his tail twitches a bit in anticipation as Stormstar manages to be silent for more than three seconds, before–

“Never mind that,” Stormstar says. “Come here, come here! I want to get your opinion on something.” Stormstar heads over to a corner of the den and after some burrowing, he uncovers a bunch of shells. “So, I’ve been collecting all these shells for my nest to decorate before I realized that it’s way too much.” He peers back toward Puddledawn. “So, I was thinking–why don’t I give these out as prizes to the warriors?” “Just to make their nests prettier?” “And other things!” Stormstar says indignantly. “Some of these shells would make very good bludgeons, for example.”

“That’s a terrible idea. You’d far be better off using a rock like any sane cat,” Puddledawn hisses. StarClan, is this what he’s going to be dealing with for moons? “Yeah, so maybe I can test that on you next,” Stormstar huffs. “Whatever. Once I get these ‘storm shells’ ready, it’ll get everyone pumped to work hard! I mean, look at these things.” He gestures toward the largest curled shell with his tail. “Wouldn’t you kill for one of them?”