Chapter Text
He watched as cats scattered, thoroughly unnerved by the massive canine that towered over them. A small part of him was fascinated- while clearly a wolf, hints of the cat still shown in the intense amber of his eyes.
So this is what those strange Twolegs were capable of.
As a kit, he had yearned for the wild; his imagination captivated with the idea of being a valiant hero like the warriors of old. And yet, he found himself diligently listening to the female Twoleg’s chants and, though he couldn’t decipher the squiggles, memorizing the strange images etched into the skin-covered bundle of dead leaves that they seemed to favor. A niggling sensation at the back of his mind told him that he could use these odd images in the future.
The rest of him, however, was panicking.
The dark tortoiseshell tom had been more than happy to help the insane Thunderclan tom, not due to any measure of sympathy but rather the opportunities his ramblings bought.
When Sol had tried to prove himself to his Clan by rescuing their kits, he had miscalculated. He had grown impatient, waiting for an opportunity to fulfill his destiny, so he decided to create one. All he did was stash the kits in his little hideaway and, to ensure that he was their rescuer, trace an eye-shaped oval with lines crossing over it that he had found previously imbued invisibility over the entire area.
The trouble was that the spell (he lacked a better term for it) only worked in full sunlight for some unknown reason. Thus, when clouds covered the sky- poof! There were the three kits. All covered in his scent.
Those sniveling cowards had dared to call him- him!- a monster. Even as he was banished from Skyclan, he swore that all the clans (not just Skyclan) would dread his name.
Shaking his pelt, he roused himself and quietly used the surrounding chaos to slip away into the night. But as he fled, a small smile was plastered on his muzzle.
For he had succeeded.
While many of the warriors had fled the Gathering upon the wolf’s appearance, there was still as small cluster present from each clan, which included all five leaders and (with Brambleclaw’s reappearance) their deputies.
Rootspring himself was one of the remaining cats. Just before Firestar’s announcement, he had crept to his sister, Needleclaw, and his father Tree. Shushing the pair before they could draw too much attention, the young warrior quickly and quietly explained that, yes, he was fine, but they should expect some excitement (for lack of a better word) and urged them not to panic. He missed whatever Firestar had announced while stopping his family from overreacting.
He could see that his quick words did not satisfy either his sister or father, but Brambleclaw’s rather dramatic entrance had spared him further explanation, at least for now. It also didn’t help that he could practically feel Leafstar’s gaze piercing his pelt. Rootspring was not looking forward to having to the discussion he just knew was coming later!
A heavy paw touched his, startling Rootspring out of his nervous kneading of the loose soil beneath them. He hadn’t even noticed him doing so. Tree’s soothing murmur (“Be patient…”) floated into his ears and helped calm him.
Meanwhile, the remaining cats had somewhat settled. The new Skyclan warrior noted that the majority of Thunderclan remained (for all he knew, it could be all of them). His attention was drawn by a striking grey female who looked to be around his age, her gaze curious rather than fearful.
“I don’t understand” her voice, while quiet, was still easily heard across the much emptier island. “This wolf” she continued, tipping her frosty muzzle towards the brown wolf “isn’t trying to kill us all.”
This was indeed true. The wolf in question had a burning amber gaze that was fixed on a petrified Ashfur and paid no mind to the large crowd surrounding them. Even more baffling was the fact that Squirrelflight was pressed fondly against his leg, her mirthful purrs audible to everyone present.
The gray female continued uncertainly, “And Squirrelflight seems familiar with it?” Her blue-green eyes sought out her leader, the rest of her unspoken questions plain on her face.
Rootspring was fascinated. He took note of her bottle brush tail and extended claws which were in complete contrast with her relatively calm tone.
Her curiosity is stronger than her fear He realized. What a warrior she must be…
“He, not it.” Squirrelflight snapped. The wolf redirected his gaze from a now trembling Ashfur to nudge the orange queen with his long nose.
“If you’ll wait a moment, Bristlefrost” Firestar mewed calmly from his perch, “everything will be made clear.”
Bristlefrost. The name was now permanently branded in his mind. The yellow tom was so focused on the thought that he almost missed the leader’s pointed look towards the sky.
In the upheaval of the night, everyone had forgotten the late hour and were just realizing that it was now almost dawn.
Rootspring, for all the dawns he liked to watch, had never seen one quite like this. For as the sun rose, the normal, golden orb was steadily overtaken by black. More and more of the sun was covered until-
“Look!” A cat screeched.
Gasps rippled across the island as both the wolf and Squirrelflight were covered in a golden aura. Jaws dropped as the larger predator shrank, his form compressing from canine into something far more feline. Rootspring also noted that Squirrelflight’s fur had started to shift into a pattern reminiscent of feathers. Almost no one was paying attention to the fact that the sun was nothing more than a black orb in the sky surrounded by a golden halo.
“Let me through!” Another screech grabbed his attention. Ashfur had tried to bolt, his icy eyes wide and maddened. However, his way was blocked by Graystripe and Sandstorm, both of whom were openly snarling at their frenzied clanmate. Sandstorm looked as if she would like nothing more than to split the grey cat wide open as she snarled so ferociously that it Ashfur’s eyes briefly snapped over to her.
Before he could look for another escape route, he was spun around by a firm paw to his flank and found himself face-to-face with the missing Thunderclan deputy. Ashfur dropped to the ground like a stunned pigeon and kept his eyes firmly shut.
“Look at me!” Brambleclaw’s yowl still managed to hold a hint of the wolf’s menace he had sported just moments before.
“Look at me!” He yowled again, and this time, the force of the deputy’s voice seemed to yank Ashfur’s head up. Ice blue eyes locked with amber counterparts.
“Now look at her.” While quieter, Brambleclaw’s command pulled the grey tom’s mesmerized gaze to Squirrelflight, who had moved closer. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his treacherous clanmate, the brown tabby slowly backed away, so he was standing next to the ginger molly.
“Now look at us.” Brambleclaw’s whisper finally brought Ashfur’s wide eyes to the couple. As he gazed at them, their forms shimmered and the glow died away, leaving behind two completely normal cats.
The Gathering held its breath as the mated pair hesitantly looked at each other
Ever so slowly, ever so gently, their eyes met. Their noses touched.
The next thing their audience knew, the two were plastered against each other, purring so hard their bodies seemed to vibrate.
A stern voice interrupted the reunion, Firestar’s emerald gaze ablaze despite his calm demeanor.
“So would you like to explain this to us, Ashfur?”
But Ashfur paid no mind to his leader, fixated upon his daughter and her mate, despite Graystripe and Sandstorm moving forward to block his view.
“No” Ashfur murmured.
“No.” He slowly rose to his paws, fur bristling.
“NO!” With supernatural strength, he shoved Sandstorm and Graystripe aside and lunged for the lovers, only to be blocked by Rootspring.
The yellow tom couldn’t let the crazed cat cause any more harm, especially with what he had seen over the last few days.
Ashfur was by now frothing at the mouth with unbridled rage. Rootspring might as well have been invisible, the grey tom was so focused on Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight.
“If I can’t have her, then no tom shall!” But just as he made to swipe Rootspring out of his way, a large brown shape hurtled over him.
A blur of movement, a sharp crack and it was over. Brambleclaw stepped off Ashfur, the grey tom unmistakably dead.
The impact from Brambleclaw must have snapped his neck. Rootspring thought numbly.
The island was suddenly bathed in gold as the sun regained its normal glow and Rootspring decided that, despite the blood shed and loss, this might be one of his favorite sunrises.