Chapter Text
Mothwing’s golden pelt bristled as she gazed at the sweep of ragged stumps just on the other side of the water. The light of the full moon highlighted every fallen trunk and branch in stark, silver contrast. The twoleg’s destruction in ThunderClan’s territory had finally reached the bank of the river. Like an infected wound, the necrosis was spreading, devouring flesh that had once been healthy. Mothwing feared that if the blight went on for much longer, there would be no life left.
Now that it was so obvious from their own territory, no cat in RiverClan could argue with Mothwing about the terrifying, destructive power of the monsters, not when they’d seen it with their own eyes. But, the ironic tragedy was that Leopardstar and Hawkfrost still didn’t view it as a threat to RiverClan; rather a boon. They said that the weaker their rivals got, the better it was for the Clan— ThunderClan’s suffering was RiverClan’s prosperity.
No one mentioned Pikepaw, or the fact that those very same monsters had been what had killed him not long ago. That was indisputable proof of the monster’s threat to RiverClan, but Leopardstar and Hawkfrost turned a blind eye to it. Leopardstar insisted that the monsters could not cross the river. That it would protect them, as it always did.
Mothwing desperately wanted to point out how completely, utterly minnow-brained that idea was. Of course the river wouldn’t be enough to stop the monsters! Hadn’t the twolegs already demonstrated their mastery over the river with the creation of their bridge? Or the little, floating monsters they sometimes used to swim around on the water in greenleaf? Surely, if these other monsters were powerful enough to level entire forests, crossing the river would be trivial to them— no matter how divine Leopardstar or any of Mothwing’s other Clanmates proclaimed the waters to be. It was only a matter of time.
But, Mothwing hadn’t even been able to afford the time to worry about that lately. She was too busy caring for Mudfur as his occasional cough had transformed into something much more frightening and persistent. Mudfur had insisted that it was just a case of whitecough that had appeared earlier than typical in the season, but Mothwing wasn’t convinced. It was true that Mudfur wasn’t coughing up the sticky mucus associated with greencough, but she’d never heard of a case of whitecough that made a cat lose weight as rapidly as Mudfur had been. And, just this morning there had been a terrifying new development when Mudfur had been hacking, and his spittle turned pink as he coughed up blood.
Mothwing had been pouring every piece of her effort and attention into treating him. She hadn’t even been able to attend the medicine cat meeting a quarter moon ago. Mudfur was in no state to travel outside of camp, let alone to Highstones, and Mothwing hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. Going to the Moonstone was a waste of time for Mothwing anyway, although it had disappointed her that she’d been unable to meet with Cinderpelt and receive any news about Leafpaw. But, Mothwing was trying to push thoughts about Leafpaw as far from her mind as she could. After the disaster of her rescue mission that had ended with Pikepaw’s death, Mothwing tried to think about that, or any of the missing cats as little as possible. Maybe if she did that everyday, she could slowly make herself be okay with never seeing them again.
However, even though Mothwing hadn’t gone to the Moonstone meeting, Leopardstar had insisted on taking her to the gathering tonight. It was technically against the guidelines of the punishment Leopardstar herself had made for Mothwing, since she wasn’t supposed to leave camp without her mentor. But, Mudfur clearly could not come, and Leopardstar didn’t want to show up to the gathering without any RiverClan medicine cats in attendance.
As they grew closer to Fourtrees, Mothwing forced her attention back to the present. Her pawsteps had been slow, so she dragged behind the rest of the patrol. Her Clanmates were eager to avoid her anyway. Her position as a medicine cat apprentice meant that it was impossible for them to completely ignore her, especially not with Mudfur ill, but her failed rescue attempt had made her more of an outcast in the Clan than she’d been since she’d first joined as a rogue kit.
That was certainly not the case for Hawkfrost though. His position in the Clan had only been solidified over the past moon through his appointment as deputy. Mothwing could see him at the head of the patrol with Leopardstar now, surrounded by warriors. Hawkfrost was talking animatedly, a hungry gleam in his blue eyes as he glanced over his shoulder, back at the twoleg destruction in ThunderClan territory.
“This may be the best chance we’ve had in seasons to reclaim Sunningrocks,” Hawkfrost was saying. “ThunderClan will hardly be in any state right now to fight back.”
Mothwing’s belly flipped in shock.
How can you be thinking about conquering ThunderClan’s territory, when they are already starving from the twolegs destroying it? Do you want all the cats in that Clan to die?!
But, Mothwing bit her tongue and remained silent. She’d lost any of the tiny bit of authority she’d gained during her time as a medicine cat apprentice with her failed rescue mission. If she spoke up now, her words would fall on deaf ears at best, and at worst, her punishment would only be made more severe.
For a moment, Mothwing was suddenly, for the first time, grateful that Leafpaw was trapped with twolegs somewhere. They’d at least be keeping her well fed. And, she wouldn’t have to witness the possible extinction of her Clan, accelerated by Mothwing’s own brother.
Mothwing’s nose wrinkled, the harsh tang of monsters and twolegs growing stronger as they approached the slope that led down to Fourtrees. The RiverClan cats brushed through the tall grass like minnows slipping through the water plants in the shallows, coming to a stop at the crest of the hill. It was normal for Leopardstar to halt the Clan for a few moments before they all ran down the slope together, but as the pause stretched on, Mothwing’s brow started to furrow in confusion. Pushing past the tense forms of her Clanmates, Mothwing reached the front of the patrol so that she was able to peer down into the Fourtrees hollow. She froze at the sight that greeted her there.
Instead of the flickering shadows of cats, illuminated in gentle moonlight, the hollow was awash with bright, unnatural yellow light. The golden, red, and orange colors of canopies of the Great Oaks shone as brilliantly as they would in the midday sun. And, there was movement in the hollow, but it certainly wasn’t the nimble, lithe forms of cats. Twolegs swarmed about the place, yowling to each other in their deep, rumbling voices.
A new sound greeted Mothwing’s ears— harsh and loud and grating. A single twoleg approached one of the oaks, the noise coming from a whining, shining, silver branch held in his paws. He pressed it to the trunk of the nearest oak, sinking it into the ancient bark. Wood dust gushed from the cut like blood pouring from a wound. The branches began to shake, leaves shedding from the oak before its time as the twoleg stepped back.
Gasps rang out from the watching RiverClan cats as the Great Oak began to tip. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the tree crashed to the ground. Its branches clattered together, the rest of its leaves falling dead to the earth. The reverberations from the felling traveled all the way up the hill and made the cats’ paws shake.
Only Mothwing was unmoved, gazing at the fallen oak with grim, unsurprised understanding as her Clanmates cried out in shock and horror around her. She had already seen this happen to so many other trees in ThunderClan territory.
“StarClan, stop them!” Swallowtail cried.
There was no sign that they had heard her. The stars glittered coldly in the indigo sky as the twoleg moved on to the next oak, the silver branch in his paw screaming for another kill.
The second oak fell like the first, then the third, and finally the fourth. As the last Great Oak crashed to the cold earth, the twoleg’s snarling silver branch finally quieted and a deathly silence blanketed the hollow.
Mothwing glanced over at her Clanmates. Maybe now RiverClan would finally understand that they were not safe— not exempt from the destruction that stalked the other Clans. No place was sacred to these twolegs and their monsters, not even the location where the Clans had met for every moon for generations.
Leopardstar’s jaw was clenched, her face set in a carefully controlled mask as her Clanmates continued to stare down at the hollow, frozen in horror. Even Hawkfrost’s ears were flicking with uncertainty, and he glanced at Leopardstar, looking for direction. Leopardstar’s tail shot up into the air, snapping the attention of her Clanmates to her.
“Let’s return to camp,” she growled, whisking around.
“But Leopardstar, Fourtrees…” Skyheart whispered.
“I know, Skyheart,” Leopardstar said in a low voice, her step faltering.
“What are we going to do?” Heavystep asked, the normally fierce warrior looking wide-eyed and lost.
Leopardstar glanced back over her shoulder at the patrol, taking in her Clanmates’ worried faces.
“The answer seems clear to me,” Leopardstar spoke evenly. “Fourtrees is gone, and judging by the state of WindClan and ThunderClan, the time of the four Clans seems close behind it.” Leopardstar paused, blinking at her Clanmates solemnly. “But fear not, friends. We will not follow their example. RiverClan is still strong and healthy. We will return to our territory and continue as usual: fishing, training, protecting our borders… and caring only for ourselves. No matter what, I swear to you, RiverClan will survive.”