Chapter Text
The moorlands before her are empty and sparse, dirt and grass dotted with tiny shrubs. It’s cold up on their hill, but Hollyleaf’s fur is thick enough to keep her mostly warm. Jayfeather isn’t as lucky, and he presses into her, ears flat.
“I guess this is home now,” he says, tasting the air with a grimace. “Don’t like the lack of trees.”
“Neither do I,” Hollyleaf tells him. She doesn’t know how to hunt in not-forest, she doesn’t like being out and exposed in the open, her black fur standing out in the pale moor, she doesn’t like being so far from home, even if home isn’t where she wants to be right now. She doesn’t like being a broken trio, she doesn’t like it being just her and Jayfeather, but home is far, far behind them. Home is somewhere they can’t go anymore.
She might not want home, but the option is gone and that’s not better.
“You think there’s other clans out here?” Jayfeather muses, narrowing his eyes against the wind, “maybe a loner or two? We can’t be the first cats to come here.”
“I hope they’re friendly,” Hollyleaf mutters. She sighs and shakes herself, trying to throw off all her useless thoughts about home and missing it. “We should hunt,” she says instead, because it’s something they can actively do, “think our Windclan blood will help us catch rabbits?”
“I was never taught to hunt, so either way, it won’t go too great,” Jayfeather says, pricking his ears. “I don’t hear anything and all I can taste is wind. You see anything?”
There’s no movement below them, at least nothing big enough for Hollyleaf to pick out. “No,” she says, resting her tail on her brother’s back. “We should go down. See if we can’t find anything.”
“Yeah,” Jayfeather says, taking the first step down the hill, “that’s smart.”
They make their way down slowly, ears pricked and mouths open and, in Hollyleaf’s case, eyes wide, just in case they manage to scent a rabbit or whatever other prey lives on the moor, but other than the distant shriek of a bird, they’re the only living things here.
“Nothing,” Jayfeather hisses, tail lashing behind him, “great. We’re gonna starve to death and nobody will ever know.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Hollyleaf says, voice low just in case there actually is prey nearby, “I doubt anyone wants to remember us. If we die and never return the clan can forget us and it’ll be like the whole thing at the Gathering never happened.”
Jayfeather frowns. “Maybe,” he says, and then, “are you…you’re the one who started the Gathering thing. Why are you ashamed of it?”
“I’m not!” Hollyleaf snaps, and she curls her claws into the dirt. “I’m not. I’m just…maybe that was all a huge mistake, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but now that everybody knows I don’t feel any better than I did before! I still feel like…I dunno. Bad.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t change the past,” Jayfeather tells her, butting his head against her. “Or I would’ve done that a long, long time ago. Hey, maybe that’s your power! Try to go back.”
“You’re stupid,” Hollyleaf tells him, but she feels a little lighter, and she nudges him with her nose. “You’re the one with the connection to Starclan. You ask.”
“Starclan isn’t talking to me,” Jayfeather tells her, “hasn’t since we murdered Ashfur, maybe a bit before then.”
“Why?” Hollyleaf asks. She stops in her tracks because hunting is going terribly, and Jayfeather stops beside her, flopping down to his side.
“How should I know?” he says, baring his teeth in a growl. “Guess they don’t think I’m useful or something. Not like I can tell Thunderclan anything if I’m a world away, and they’re the ones who yammered on about ‘destiny’ and so on. I’m not that upset. A Starclan cat told me I wouldn’t ever be a warrior.”
Hollyleaf’s fur prickles up in anger for her brother. “Our ancestors—” she cuts herself off with a snarl. “They told you to not be a warrior.”
“And I was a dumb kitten, so,” Jayfeather continues, “nobody really…I wasn’t believing much in myself either, at the time.”
Hollyleaf lies beside her brother, forcing her fur to lie flat. “I’m sorry,” she tells him, “you didn’t deserve any of that.”
Jayfeather purrs, but it’s low and broken and bitter. “None of us did,” he says, “none of us asked to be the Three. None of us asked to be born. None of us asked to be lied to.” He rests his head on his paws. “Never thought we’d end up here.”
“We chose to be here,” Hollyleaf says, “me and you.”
Jayfeather huffs out a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, we did.”
They stay pressed together until the sun rises and casts the entire moor in a dizzying brightness, hungry and mad but not alone, and maybe that’s enough for them.
Jayfeather spits and lashes his tail. “We were so close!” he snarls, ears flat against his head, fur spiked with anger, “so close! I could taste it!”
Hollyleaf growls beside him. “Dumb wind,” she mutters, giving her paw a rough lick, “dumb grass.”
Her chest aches with hunger and she shivers, pressing into Jayfeather. “We won’t live long like this,” she says, though both of them know it. They haven’t eaten since the fish they caught in the tunnels days ago. It feels like forever.
“I know,” Jayfeather says. “Funny to think we thought this was the answer.” He sighs and presses his nose to her shoulder.
“Mmm,” Hollyleaf says. She wraps her tail around her brother’s. “It’s not your fault.”
“Sure feels like it,” Jayfeather snaps. “If I was useful, we’d at least have something. Rabbits take two cats to catch, but we have one cat and one me.”
“You’re getting better,” Hollyleaf reminds him, turning to nuzzle his cheek. “I’d rather die here with you than be stuck in Thunderclan.”
Jayfeather purrs, but Hollyleaf can tell he’s distracted. “Rabbit,” he mutters, voice barely louder than the wind, “smell it. Different one, I think.” He lifts his head and points with his nose sunwards. “That way,” he says, “can you see it?”
Hollyleaf can’t see anything but grass. “No,” she says, “but I believe you. Should we…” Jayfeather’s never led their hunts before. Granted, Hollyleaf isn’t doing a good job at them, but at least she was taught how to hunt. She loves her brother, but her teaching him to hunt isn’t good for either of them. He should know this already and that hangs heavy over her.
“Yeah,” Jayfeather says, crouching, “I’ll scare it this direction for you.” He pricks his ears and slinks off, tail still. Hollyleaf waits where she is, tense, ready to spring if she sees the rabbit or run if it gets past her.
The rabbit appears in an explosion of grass, darting just shy of her claws and running for its life. Hollyleaf springs into chase, and she can hear Jayfeather’s footfalls behind her. The rabbit is nothing more than a speck in the distance and Hollyleaf’s limbs feel weak, she feels herself stumbling over her paws and slowing. Jayfeather yowls something but she can’t find the strength to make sense of his words.
And then she does something she’s never done before, because it’s stupid. But the rabbit is almost gone, she’s hungry, and there’s no way they’re catching it.
“Stop!” she screams, and manages a final burst of speed, her legs burning in protest. Jayfeather’s no longer at her heels but she can’t even pay attention to that, because she’s so, so close, and she’s so, so desperate.
She trips over the trembling body of the rabbit.
Her face goes smashing into the dirt, nose stinging. She presses her ears flat and pushes herself up, but her limbs give and she slumps back to the ground.
The rabbit still hasn’t moved. It’s staring into her eyes. There’s something almost catlike in them, in the rabbit’s fear.
Hollyleaf grabs its neck in her jaws, bites, and the rabbit doesn’t tremble again.
“That’s it, then,” Jayfeather says, the two of them curled together around the leftover rabbit, full and content for the first time since they’ve left. “You’ve found it.”
Hollyleaf scrapes at one of the rabbit bones with a claw, carving nonsense shapes into it. “I can control with my words,” she says, and she means it as a question. “I made the rabbit stop.”
“Hey, it’s more useful than dream-visiting and talking to dead cats.” Jayfeather bumps his head against hers. “You caught us a meal.”
“You did,” Hollyleaf says, “you found it. You chased it to me. I yelled and it stopped.” She curls her claws into her carving. “It’s never worked before,” she says, “like, it doesn’t work on you.”
“I’m your brother,” Jayfeather says, “magic powers or not, you can’t force me to do something I don’t want to do.” He hesitates before continuing in a whisper. “But. It did, just for a second.”
Hollyleaf’s breath catches in her throat. She’s pretty sure she’s swallowed a thorn.
“For a second all I wanted to do was stop,” he says, “I shook it off easily, because most of me remembered that you were my sister, but…” he trails off with a groan. “I dunno, Holly. I think it’s…I have to chose to visit someone’s dream. I make that choice to invade their privacy. I think your power has to be like that, you have to put power into your words to make them powerful.”
“I was desperate,” Hollyleaf says. She was, she was starving and wanted more than anything for the rabbit to stumble into her claws. She wanted her and Jayfeather to live to see Lionblaze again. She wanted and she wanted and she got it. She stopped a rabbit with her words, and she stopped her brother with her words.
“I abuse my power a lot,” Jayfeather says, “mostly because it’s fun to scare Lionblaze by following him in his dreams until he realizes it’s me. But maybe…I don’t know if this can be abused. I don’t think…I think we have to be careful.”
“We have to figure out how it works,” Hollyleaf says, rolling to her paws, “I don’t ever want to have power over you again.”
And maybe that’ll work, maybe if she says it and she says it desperate it’ll work. She tries again, thinks about being hungry and says, “I don’t have power over you.”
Nothing happens.
“Stand up,” she says, and she’s not sure how to put power in her words but she says it strong and proud, like her saying it makes it a thing true.
Jayfeather laughs at her.
Hollyleaf feels her heart lighten.
“C’mon,” he says, through laughter, standing because he chose to stand, not because he was forced to, “let’s go find something to practice on.”
“A loner?” Hollyleaf offers, following her brother as he leads the way to the river. They haven’t spoken with any cats, or seen them, but there’s other cats here. She’s smelt them. Jayfeather’s smelt them.
“Yeah,” Jayfeather says, “we’ll find someone and just hope they don’t ask many questions.”
Hollyleaf smiles at her brother and picks up her pace.
If she wants to use her power right, she has to learn how to use it wrong.
The gray-brown tabby before them blinks. And blinks again. Stares at Hollyleaf, then Jayfeather, then Hollyleaf again. Rubs a paw over one of his ears and shakes himself.
“I mean,” he says, “like, you know this looks really bad from my perspective, right? Some strangers wanna test their magic power of control on me? I mean, you look awful, sorry, so you gotta know that this looks fake.” The tom mutters something under his breath, and then asks, louder, “are you new to the area? I’m just realizing that I’ve never seen you around, and I know most of the cats on the moor.”
“We’re new,” Jayfeather says, “look, if you don’t want to help, that’s fine.”
“No, I mean, I’m super curious, can’t lie there,” the tom says, “and I could probably beat you in a fight if this turns out bad.” He blinks at them again, and sighs. “Where are you hunting? Because there’s tons of prey out here and it’s hard to believe you’re just. Not finding any.”
Hollyleaf flattens her ears. “Forest,” she says, “we’re from the forest. We never learned how to hunt on the moor.”
The tom’s eyes widen, and his ears perk up. “The forest, really?” he asks, taking a step closer to them, “never met cats from the forest before! I’ve always wanted to go, it’s why I named myself Pine!” He purrs, though Hollyleaf isn’t sure why. “Well, alright. I’ll help you, if you tell me about the forest. Is it true the branches touch the sky? If you climb high enough, can you touch the sky?”
“Uhh,” Hollyleaf says, dumbly. Jayfeather stiffens beside her. The tabby tom, Pine, he said, takes another step closer, so if Hollyleaf wanted too, she could hit him with her paw.
“Sorry,” Pine says, and his ears flatten in embarrassment. “Sorry. I get like this. I don’t really talk to that many cats? The last creature I talked to was the hawk stealing my rabbit, and it didn’t care about me or anything I had to say. Did I even get your names? I’m Pine. I think I said that already?”
“You did,” Jayfeather says. “I’m Jay…feather.”
He hesitated, Hollyleaf notes, and she doesn’t even know why. Something sharp twists in her chest. She should know why. She should know why but her power is heavy on her mind and it’s hard to think about anything else.
“Jayfeather, huh,” Pine says, “long name. What, did you see a jay’s feather and think it was so cool you had to clarify just in case anybody thought you were named after the bird? Like, ‘no, no, not the bird, but the bird’s feather!’” He snorts in amusement and turns his gaze to Hollyleaf. “But no, it's a cool name. And you?”
“Hollyleaf,” she says.
“You both have long names.” Pine hums, tilting his head. “Is it a sibling thing? You are siblings, right?”
“We are,” Jayfeather says, and then, “I really am just named after the feather of a bird.”
“Did you…not know that?” Pine blinks at Jayfeather. “Kinda weird to go around your entire adulthood not even knowing what you named yourself after.”
“It’s not that, just…my birth father is also just named after the feather of a bird.” Jayfeather digs his claws into the ground with a snarl. “Starclan, huh, Holly? I really can’t win.”
“Your name,” Hollyleaf says, and it all comes rushing back to her: their conversation in the middle of the night. Jayfeather’s connection to Crowfeather. Her, less apparent, connection to Leafpool, which isn’t something she wants to think about. Her name is hers. That’s all she has left: that and Jayfeather. She can’t think too hard and lose her name, too.
“I think I’m missing something here,” Pine comments, and he bounds a few paces back, tail waving, “so I’m just gonna keep going. You wanted to test magic powers on me?”
“Right.” Hollyleaf shakes her head clear and bumps against Jayfeather so he follows her. Jayfeather’s steps are dull, heavy, and he doesn’t talk.
“I’ll just…” Pine trails off, “we can go to my den? Or do you have a place in mind…?”
Hollyleaf sighs. “Your den is fine,” she says, “are you…my words are powerful. Are you really okay with this?”
“Not really, but I’m bored and curious and you’re interesting,” Pine says, picking up his pace as he leads the two of them towards his den, tails to the sun. “I don’t do much. I’m on my own and that gets terrible sometimes. So.” He flicks an ear and twitches his tail. “Gotta find amusement where you can, you know? Even if that leads you into trouble.”
Hollyleaf doesn’t answer, and their walk to Pine’s den passes in silence. The sun burns hot on their backs, and Pine keeps twitching at every gust of wind. Maybe this is all just a huge mistake. Hollyleaf isn’t sure how she feels, trying her power out on others. But it’s the only way she can learn. She has to learn so she doesn’t abuse it later. Maybe. Hopefully.
Pine stops in front of a hole dug into the side of a small hill. He pokes his head inside, whiskers brushing against the packed dirt walls, and then backs out of it. “Well,” he says, “uh, here’s home. Should be big enough for three cats to fit into, but if you want we can just stay out here. We probably coulda done this back where we were, honestly, but what do I know.” He thinks for a second, and adds, “oh! I also have, like, half a shrew, if anybody is hungry. You two look like you need it.”
“No…” Hollyleaf says, pressing her ears back, “we ate earlier.”
“You look like you haven’t eaten well in a while, but your call, I guess,” Pine says, “so, do I have to do anything, or?”
“Just stay there.” Hollyleaf swallows down her fear and thinks about power and putting that power into her words. When she opens her jaws to speak, she doesn’t hesitate, even though most of her wants to. She has to learn how her power works. Her brothers did it when they were younger, now it’s finally her turn.
She brushes against Jayfeather, and speaks. “Dig a small hole,” she says, and then closes her eyes and waits.
She hears the telltale sound of digging, of claws scraping away at the dirt. She cracks an eye open to see Pine digging, his eyes vacant. His movements are slow and sluggish, like he’s not fully in control of his own body, but being dragged along. Other than his paws, his body is still: his ears don’t twitch and his tail doesn’t flick behind him, just hangs limp.
“I hate this,” she mutters, “I’m sorry,” and Pine breaks out of his stupor, blinking.
“Okay,” he says, eyes wide and blinking. He stumbles back on his paws, staring down at his shallow hole. “Okay. Okay. Okay! This is cool! This is fine! By the grace of those Worthy Few or whatever Mom used to say, please don’t let these cats kill me.” He spins around to face Hollyleaf and her brother, fur fluffed up in fear. “Please don’t kill me,” he repeats.
“What…” Hollyleaf bites back her words. She hates this and everything about this and she hates the way Pine looks at her with the same fear the rabbit did. “What was it like,” she manages.
Pine’s tail is tucked between his legs. “All I wanted to do was dig,” he says, “everything in me said it was a good idea. And then I realized that was dumb and I was digging a hole and I wasn’t telling myself to do that, I was just digging like I wasn’t in control of my paws.”
Hollyleaf curls her claws into the ground and doesn’t know what to do. She never wants to control somebody again. Pine may be a stranger, but he deserves to do things because he chooses to. Hollyleaf can’t be like her birth parents, like Starclan: she can’t steal away a cat’s choices.
She can’t use power to take from someone what’s been taken from her.
But she’s interrupted before she can tell Pine any of this.
“I’m so sorry,” Jayfeather says, not looking at either of them. “You didn’t deserve this. We didn’t deserve this. We were forced into this and we were born to be forced into this and—and now we’re here and starving to death and we can’t do anything but suffer because Starclan said we must.”
He’s trembling beside Hollyleaf, and she’s not sure if he’s talking to her or Pine or himself. “I can invade dreams,” he says, “I can spy on dreams and I can do that and nobody can stop me. Hollyleaf could tell someone to drown and they’d do it. Lionblaze could kill Crowfeather and nobody could stop him and I might even agree with him.”
He’s hyperventilating, now, breaths coming out heavy, ears pressed so flat Hollyleaf can barely see them, pupils blown wide and terrified. “We’re dangerous,” he says, “I killed a cat and he deserved it but I still killed him. We killed him. We’ve been lied to our entire lives. Do we even have parents? Do I even want parents?”
Jayfeather turns his blind eyes to Hollyleaf, and it’s like he’s staring through her. “Starclan has taken everything but you and Lionblaze from me,” he says, “Starclan stripped me of everything that makes me a cat, of all my choices, and they expected me to live with it.”
He slumps down to the ground, curling into a tight ball, and doesn’t say anything else. Hollyleaf nudges him, licks the top of his head, and he just stays there, still and stiff and unresponsive.
Pine’s still there, too, but he’s moving. “Hey,” he says, and he presses his nose to Jayfeather’s ear. “I’m not…I have no idea what you’re going through and I probably won’t be much of any help, but…you’re still here, aren’t you? I don’t know what Starclan is but they obviously failed to break you down. They obviously failed to take all choice from you, if you’re here now, I’m assuming. It’s…you still have your name and you still have yourself. Nobody can take those from you.”
“Don’t even have that,” Jayfeather mumbles, “don’t even have my name…just named that ‘cause Leafpool wanted to remember Crowfeather.”
Pine bristles, but he doesn’t look mad at Jayfeather. Just at the situation, maybe, like Hollyleaf. She joins her brother on the ground to lick his ears. “Nobody has the right to take a name from anybody,” Pine says, “that’s the one thing we have that is ours always. You don’t have to go by a name someone gave to you after they ripped your choices away.”
Jayfeather purrs bitterness and sorrow. “Nobody chooses a name,” he says, “just gets given ‘em. Like Jay. But Jay’s good. Mom gave me that name. I don’t know how I feel about Mom but she gives good names.” He presses closer to Hollyleaf and she can feel him shake against her.
“Then you’re Jay,” Pine says, “and that’s all there is to it.” He steps away from Jayfeather and Hollyleaf. “I’m here if you want to talk,” he says, “I’ll always be here.”
And he turns and disappears down his rabbit-hole den, leaving Hollyleaf to groom her brother until he can pull himself back together.
“I’m going to talk to Pine,” Jayfeather says, nosing Hollyleaf awake. She looks up at him, bleary-eyed, his form soft and fuzzy around the edges. His pelt is streaked with dust and his eyes are unfocused, like he hasn’t slept in days. He probably hasn’t. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Hasn’t been talking to her.
“He’s a stranger,” Hollyleaf says, licking her paw and running it over her whiskers, “we don’t know him…”
I’m your sister, she wants to say, you can trust me with your problems.
“He’s…different,” Jayfeather says, “he talks about names like he picked his name and was never given one. He’s…he’s a loner. I want to talk about clan stuff to someone who isn’t used to clan stuff, because maybe some clan things are messed up and we just don’t know it.”
“Jay,” Hollyleaf says, but she’s already nodding off again, the moonlight warm above her. They don’t have a den, not like Pine, but they have a little dip so the wind passes right over them, and the grass is plush below her, like the moss in her nest back home.
“I’ll be back,” Jayfeather says, “promise. I love you, Holly, and nothing’s ever going to change that.”
“Gonna get lost,” Hollyleaf mutters, “dunno where he lives, Jay, dunno how to get there…”
Jayfeather’s purr is as familiar as her heartbeat. She purrs back, slower. “I’ll be fine,” he says, and gives her a lick behind the ears, “love you, Holly. Good dreams.”
He’s racing up and onto the moorland as she drifts back off to sleep, too tired to even tell him how much she loves him.
Hollyleaf dreams. She sees Lionblaze and Cinderheart, the two of them hunting together, but they’re tripping over every root in the forest, and they talk so quietly she can’t hear them even if she strains her ears. She calls out to them, but neither answer, though Cinderheart’s ears prick up at her voice and Lionblaze keeps staring past her.
And then she sees Willowshine, and herself, and they’re curled up together on the island. Willowshine’s watching her with curious eyes.
“We’re drowning,” Willowshine says, softly, “our entire clan.”
There’s a flash of ginger fur and Hollyleaf’s standing in front of her mother, except she looks so much bigger than she actually is, and she’s looking down at Hollyleaf and her eyes are the same amber as Leafpool’s.
But then Hollyleaf is back with Willowshine, and they’re standing together at the Moonpool, faint shapes of cats dancing at the corners of Hollyleaf’s eyes.
“Starclan isn’t real to those who don’t believe in it,” Willowshine says, dipping one of her paws into the water, “if you don’t believe in them, can they still hurt you? Can they still control you? If you don’t believe in yourself, are you in control of your own actions?”
Hollyleaf closes her eyes and when she opens them, she’s staring up at Willowshine from within the Moonpool, her pelt the burning pinpricks of stars. Willowshine’s eyes pass over her.
“I wonder,” Willowshine says, and the molly stands, turning her back to the Moonpool, “if everyone stopped believing, would Starclan cease to exist?”
She disappears and leaves Hollyleaf drowning in stars.
Hollyleaf wakes up, and she’s cold, and she’s alone, and her eyes are still heavy with sleep. It’s drizzling out, her pelt already damp. Jayfeather is nowhere to be seen, his scent faint and rain-washed.
She can taste her dream on the tip of her tongue, can feel the shape of it in her throat, but she can’t get the pieces to connect. Lionblaze was there. Willowshine, also, though Hollyleaf hasn’t thought of her in forever.
Hollyleaf coughs and shoves herself to her paws. The rain is bearable now, but it won’t be if it gets any worse, and the clouds above her are dark and heavy with rainwater.
Jayfeather said he was going to see Pine. Hollyleaf has no idea how to get to Pine’s den from here, but he has an actual place out of the rain, and Hollyleaf doesn’t want to be alone right now. She wants Lionblaze and Jayfeather and she wants to cuddle together in a corner of the apprentice’s den, whispering and trying to keep Jayfeather hidden from sight, so nobody can tell him to go back to his own nest. She wants to hear the thrum of rainfall from a dry den.
So she sets off to find her brother. Jayfeather’s scent is mostly gone, but she follows it the best she can, and she ends up at Pine’s den just as the storm gets worse. There’s a sharp crackle of thunder, and the hum of lightning, and rain lashes at her like bees.
“Hello?” she calls into the dark of the den, “Jayfeather? Pine?”
“Hollyleaf!” Jayfeather’s voice is light, happy. “It’s pouring out there,” he says.
“Yeah, I noticed.” Hollyleaf shakes out her fur and crawls into the hole. It’s tiny, and her whiskers scrape the edges, but it’s dry and before she knows it, she’s emerging into a larger cave. She can see Jayfeather, stretched out along the back wall, and she can see Pine’s tail sticking out from a tunnel coming off the big cave.
“Welcome to my den!” Pine calls, “I hope you didn’t get super soaked, I have no idea how far I am from you guys.”
“Eh, it’s not too bad,” Jayfeather says, “took me like…a while? But not long enough that my paws started hurting.”
He looks better than Hollyleaf’s sleepy brain remembered from that morning, his fur freshly groomed and his ears pricked. Hollyleaf plops down beside him, ignoring his protests when she gets him wet.
“You’re awful,” Jayfeather says, swatting at her ear with a paw. Hollyleaf grumbles at him and pricks her own ears when she hears what sounds like claws against stone, and Pine backs out of the tunnel he was down, a small bird’s skull clenched in his jaws. He drops it in front of Hollyleaf and Jayfeather and sits down.
“This one I found soon after I left Mom,” he says, “it was my first successful hunt without her. Decided to take the skull with me. Still not sure what story to carve, ‘cause I’m scared nothing is good enough, y’know?”
“Hmm,” Jayfeather says, his tongue rasping over Hollyleaf’s flank. Hollyleaf purrs as he grooms her.
“Yeah, one day I hope I have a good enough story to tell,” Pine says, laying down and touching his nose to the skull. “Anyway. Hi, Hollyleaf. Me ‘n Jayfeather have been talking for a while.”
“About what?” Hollyleaf asks, looking over at her brother. He sighs and stops grooming her.
“A lot,” he says, “mostly about names. I’m…glad you’re here. I’ve decided to change my name.” He glances over at Pine, who grins, and takes a deep breath. “Pine was saying…everyone he knows picks their name. Parents don’t name their kittens, but the kitten names themselves when they’re old enough. It’s…I don’t want to have a connection to Crowfeather. He’s not my father and Leafpool’s not my mother.”
“Names make up our essence,” Pine says, “it’s one of the few things we have that truly belongs to us.” He frowns, ears flicking back. “Your Thunderclan…it’s taking away that basic choice from you.”
“You can change your name, too,” Jayfeather says, rubbing his cheek against Hollyleaf’s. “You don’t have to, but if you want.”
“I’m…” Hollyleaf is her name. She’s been Holly forever, and now she’s Hollyleaf, and that’s her name. Leafpool might not be her mother but that doesn’t mean she can take this from her. “I’m Hollyleaf,” she says, “I can’t…it’s my name. I won’t let Leafpool ruin it for me. She’s already ruined enough.”
If she gives up her name then that means Leafpool's won. What, Hollyleaf doesn't know, but she can't let that happen.
“Okay,” Jayfeather says, “well.”
And he’s quiet for a long moment. All three of them are.
Pine’s the one to break that silence, with a rumbling, laughing purr, and he scoots closer to butt his head to Jayfeather’s. “He hasn’t picked out a name yet,” Pine explains, “right now he’s just Jay, but for some reason your clan has two-part names and he can’t choose the second part.
“I was thinking -flight or -claw, after Mom and Dad, but I don’t know if I forgive them,” Jayfeather says, “and there’s -wing, but…” he trails off and sighs. “Dunno. I like it but it reminds me of someone I had to…of something destiny never wanted me to have. I’m not sure I can just…take it.”
“It’s up to you,” Pine says, “we can’t help you. Your name is your name and that’s something you need to pick yourself.”
“I know, I know,” Jayfeather grumbles, “just. Annoying.”
He resumes grooming Hollyleaf, and she yawns, warm and comfortable against her brother. “I miss Lionblaze,” she says, rolling over to bury her face in Jayfeather’s side and curl her tail around his. Her purr is a low rumble in her chest.
“Lionblaze?” Pine asks.
“Our brother,” Hollyleaf tells him, “he stayed behind when we left because Thunderclan didn’t make him feel as wrong as it made us feel.”
“Oh,” Pine says, “I’m sorry you don’t have him with you.”
“Hey, Pine, do you have any siblings?” Jayfeather asks, and he stops grooming Hollyleaf. She grumbles and presses a paw into his belly, but Jayfeather just purrs at her until she stops. She’s tired. She’s been sleeping more than Jayfeather, but he’s up and she’s falling asleep against him. It’s unfair, in a way.
But at least she knows what’s bothering her brother. She’d trade anything for that.
“Um, kinda?” Pine says, and he laughs, but he pulls the bird’s skull closer to him and rubs it with a paw. “Don’t really…haven’t seen her since we both left Mom. I had a sister but I have no idea what her name is or if she’s even still alive. I try not to think about it? I think we were close. I remember us fighting beside a river and Mom scolding us ‘cause she pushed me in and I didn’t know how to swim. Sister and I…” he lets out a bitter purr. “Ha, if I think about her too hard I get all sad…we used to swear under the light of the Worthy Few that we’d never forget each other…guess we were just lying to ourselves.”
He sighs. “I hope she’s okay,” he says, “I hope…” he flicks an ear at Jayfeather and Hollyleaf. “Like, look at you two. I want that but I don’t even know how to begin finding my sister. I gave up forever ago.”
Jayfeather’s purring in Hollyleaf’s ear and she can feel it thrum through her. She lets her eyes drift shut and she just listens to the two talk.
“I don’t think I could live without my siblings,” Jayfeather’s saying, and Hollyleaf smiles at that. “They’re all I have left in the world.”
“Sounds nice,” Pine says, “you guys…you guys have been though some bad stuff, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” Jayfeather says, and he laughs. “You know what? I’m going to do it. Jaywing. There. I’m not…I want the good memories that come from that name. I can choose my name and I can decide what to do with my life and Starclan has no right to stop me!”
Pine purrs. “I think it suits you,” he says, “and remember, you can always change it later if you need to.”
Jayfea—Jaywing shifts and rests his head atop Hollyleaf’s. “Yeah,” he says, and his purring kicks up a notch, and Hollyleaf’s does too, in response. “I can.”