Chapter Text
If Martenpaw had more energy, she would have been scanning the trees for signs of her sister. True, they weren’t real sisters, but she considered Honeypaw and Lightpaw kin and vice versa. Sadly, over the past quarter moon, Martenpaw spent most of her time refilling the herb stores, gathering fewer materials each day, and waiting for cats to return from battle, planned or otherwise. No one yowled in alarm when someone entered bleeding anymore. A Clan wasn’t meant to fight for so long. Harriershade, who stood with Martenpaw, Goldenshade, and Charpatch in the Stacked Stones, had a shoulder wound that would have been bandaged on a typical day, but she had to make do with good grooming.
Unfamiliar faces peeked through the trees, watching the CliffClan patrol. Honeypaw stood by a brown apprentice, whose paw she licked before she ran towards her Clan.
“There’s my girl,” Goldenshade sighed, touching noses with Honeypaw as the ElkClan patrol returned to their camp.
“Honeypaw, I am so sorry,” Harriershade begged. “We never wanted to leave you.”
“I understand,” Honeypaw promised, touching her mentor’s nose.
“I’m glad you’re healed,” Charpatch said with a respectful nod.
“How are you feeling?” Martenpaw asked, examining the scabbed spot on Honeypaw’s head.
“Tired,” Honeypaw admitted. “I’ll be alright. Let’s go home.” The patrol turned back to the rocks and cliffs of CliffClan.
“Your father and sister weren’t injured in the ElkClan battle, thank StarClan,” Goldenshade explained. “Hailbranch told you about Beaverstone, right?”
“How is everyone taking that?” Honeypaw asked softly, pressed against Goldenshade as they walked.
“Buzzardear is crushed,” Goldenshade sighed. “The only family he has now is Rollerfall, being her uncle, but I don’t think the two see each other as anything but clanmates. PuffinClan’s been quiet since yesterday. Lemmingstar may try something while they’re recovering. All our clanmates have healed, save for Grebeshine. She has an infected bite.” Martenpaw bristled at the memory. She had run out of betony and had to use the far less effective exploding star stems. She and Hailbranch had a full stock before the war.
“Once you’re better, we’re going back into battle training,” Harriershade huffed. “We can’t put you in that situation again. Your sister has been learning partner fighting.”
The rest of the conversation faded into the background of Martenpaw’s mind as the group got closer to camp. A mound of dirt glistened a few tail-lengths from the entrance. Beaverstone’s grave. Honeypaw stopped by the burial and bowed her head. Why couldn’t Martenpaw save him? She had done everything right. He shouldn’t be in the ground.
Lemmingstar raced out of camp, buffeting Martenpaw’s fur. Buzzardear, Briarpaw, Sleettuft, and Otterpaw hurried after her, bolting deeper into the territory. Hailbranch slipped out with a leaf bundle in her jaws.
“What now?” Martenpaw groaned.
“You’re back, good,” Hailbranch huffed, gently setting her bundle down. “Spottedfoot and Fowlpaw reported a PuffinClan patrol near Bouldershake. They’re trying to cave in our tunnels.”
“Good luck,” Martenpaw sighed as Harriershade and Charpatch moved around Hailbranch.
“This time, you’re going,” Hailbranch ordered, sliding the bundle to her apprentice. “I’ll take Honeypaw.” Martenpaw wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t argue with her mentor. She grabbed the bundle of herbs.
“We’ll talk when you come back,” Honeypaw promised as Goldenshade and Hailbranch ushered her into camp. Martenpaw took her words to heart and zoomed after her leader’s patrol. She was a speedy apprentice, and soon ran beside Otterpaw.
Breezeclaw, Elmpatch, and Seabranch dug at the entrance to a few tunnels around Bouldershake while Newtstorm watched from the base of the rocks, staring in the direction of the CliffClan camp. Martenpaw could see cobwebs on Breezeclaw’s pelt. Not only was PuffinClan sending out counselors, but they brought injured warriors too? Dirt tumbled on Elmpatch’s feet as a tunnel gave way.
“Newtstorm is just a lookout, do not fight her, understand?” Lemmingstar barked to her clanmates. Newtstorm’s eyes narrowed and her ears flattened.
“CliffClan!” Newtstorm yowled, snapping the warriors from their sabotage. “Back to camp!”
“Almost got this tunnel,” Breezeclaw huffed as Elmpatch and Seabranch scattered.
“Maplesong’s orders are to run, now go!” Newtstorm snapped just before Briarpaw tackled Breezeclaw. Elmpatch spun back and dragged Briarpaw off. Otterpaw hissed at Newtstorm with a thrash of his tail. Newtstorm backed against Bouldershake as Buzzardear joined the fight and Seabranch growled at Otterpaw. Newtstorm leapt up the loose rocks, kicking away pebbles.
“Newtstorm, don’t go that way!” Martenpaw yowled, dropping her herbs as Otterpaw and Sleettuft chased Seabranch. “Bouldershake isn’t stable!”
“Go away, you warrior scum!” Newtstorm hissed, scampering up a huge boulder.
“I’m the healer apprentice, not a warrior!” Martenpaw fumed. Lemmingstar had hung back, watching her clanmates engage the patrol, and noticed Martenpaw’s frantic yowling. Her whole body stiffened in alarm.
“Newtstorm, you’re going to get yourself killed!” Lemmingstar growled, jumping onto one of Bouldershake’s lower rocks.
“You want us dead!” Newtstorm snarled, facing Lemmingstar and rolling a paw-sized rock away.
“I’m not letting a PuffinClan counselor die on CliffClan land!” Lemmingstar snapped, carefully climbing after Newtstorm.
“Stay back, I’ll defend myself!” Newtstorm spat, climbing higher. Elmpatch and Breezeclaw squirmed away from Buzzardear and Briarpaw, but as they ran after Seabranch, Breezeclaw skidded to a stop, noticing Newtstorm.
“Newtstorm, be careful!” Breezeclaw wailed. Newtstorm jumped onto a large rock close to the top of the cliff. The terrible groan of crumbling rocks echoed around Martenpaw. The young healer scrambled back as boulders of all sizes tumbled down the slope, carrying a screeching Newtstorm with it. Rocks slammed into Lemmingstar, throwing her down. Martenpaw could no longer see either molly through the chaos. Everyone turned to watch the disaster. Dust billowed around them, making Martenpaw’s eyes water. She and the other apprentices coughed as Sleettuft and Breezeclaw pushed through the dust clouds.
“Otterpaw, help your brother move these rocks!” Sleettuft ordered. Martenpaw cleared her vision. Bouldershake had shrunk, half of its mass scattered around the area. She could spot Newtstorm and Lemmingstar’s pelts buried in the rubble. Sleettuft and Breezeclaw shoved against the boulders covering Newtstorm while Otterpaw and Briarpaw ran to their leader. The others could only watch as the beaten bodies of their clanmates emerged. Blood and fur splattered the stones.
Martenpaw snapped out of it and grabbed her bundle of herbs. She could smell death drifting off Lemmingstar and didn’t want to look at her crumbled body. She had nine lives, she would be okay. It was Newtstorm she had to save. She lay limp around the rocks, bruised and torn. Blood covered her dark amber eyes. She watched Martenpaw with the vaguest of recognition, groaning.
“I’m sorry,” Martenpaw cried. “I tried to warn you.” She tore apart the ball of cobwebs Hailbranch had packed and applied them to one of Newtstorm’s bigger wounds.
“Rowantail?” Newtstorm moaned. Martenpaw paused. She looked to the stunned PuffinClan cats for clues.
“Her daughter,” Breezeclaw gulped. “She joined StarClan shortly after earning her counselor name. Please, for her sake, play along.” Martenpaw held her breath.
“Hi, Mom,” Martenpaw whispered, the words foreign on her tongue.
“How was your vigil?” Newtstorm asked weakly, purring.
“I had a lot of time to think,” Martenpaw sighed. “Why don’t you sleep? You seem tired.”
“Sleep… yes, I’ll sleep. Make your nest by me, Rowantail. Let your mother remember when you were small…” Newtstorm’s eyes drifted shut. Elmpatch leaned into Seabranch, keeping one another up through sudden grief. Breezeclaw bowed his head.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” Martenpaw stammered, ears and tail low. Another life lost at her paws.
“We know,” Breezeclaw mumbled. “We don’t blame CliffClan for this death.”
“She’s coming back,” Otterpaw gasped. Martenpaw looked back just in time to see Lemmingstar’s eyes glimmer with StarClan’s power. She spasmed and groaned, pelt bristling.
“Lemmingstar, stay down,” Martenpaw huffed, facing Lemmingstar. “You’re covered in bruises, and only StarClan knows if you have a concussion.”
“Newtstorm’s dead,” Lemmingstar panted, peering around the healer apprentice.
“We know,” Martenpaw muttered. Seabranch slowly approached Newtstorm’s body. Buzzardear stood in front of Martenpaw and Lemmingstar, watching with narrowed eyes.
“Uh,” Otterpaw gulped, stepping away from Sleettuft. “Do you need help?” Seabranch stared at the apprentice, shocked by the offer.
“Just move the rocks,” Breezeclaw sighed. Otterpaw silently obeyed, pushing stones away from Newtstorm’s body to give the warriors room to place her on their backs. Martenpaw kept her gaze on Lemmingstar as Elmpatch began to cry.
“We…” Seabranch gulped, straining under Newtstorm’s weight. “We’ll tell our Clan that you tried to help her. You didn’t cause this.”
“Thank you,” Sleettuft mumbled. Martenpaw smeared a figwort and marigold poultice over Lemmingstar’s bruises as PuffinClan retreated with the body of their fallen counselor.
“Why are we doing this,” Lemmingstar grumbled. “Why did a border dispute turn into this?” Martenpaw said nothing. The CliffClan patrol sat around their injured leader, complicated thoughts tumbling like a rockslide.
It took a while before Lemmingstar could move. By the time the patrol returned to camp, the seers were finishing their sunhigh ritual and most of the Clan had food. Avocetcloud’s kits were experimenting with solid food under their mother’s close supervision. Wigeonfur shared prey with Firestripe, but got to his paws as his mate entered camp.
“Are you okay?” Wigeonfur asked, pressing his nose into Lemmingstar’s ear.
“I’ll be alright,” Lemmingstar groaned. “Are Palescar, Rippedpool, and Gooseleg still in camp?”
“I believe they’re sharing prey in the warrior’s den,” Wigeonfur explained.
“Otterpaw, bring them to me,” Lemmingstar ordered, directing Sleettuft and Martenpaw towards her den. “Briarpaw, find Hailbranch and the seers.” The apprentices jogged away as Martenpaw helped her injured leader to her nest. Lemmingstar groaned as she settled in while Sleettuft took his usual spot for such meetings. Hailbranch was the first to join them with fresh herbs.
“I’m sure you did a wonderful job, Martenpaw,” Hailbranch huffed, taking Martenpaw’s spot by Lemmingstar, “but let me check your work.”
“I used a figwort and marigold poultice just like you suggest for bruises,” Martenpaw explained. Hailbranch sniffed the poultices and nodded.
“If I knew this would happen, I would have gone,” Hailbranch muttered. “Still, you handled yourself well.” The praise did little to shake the guilt hanging on Martenpaw’s pelt. Rippedpool, Palescar, and Gooseleg joined them next, each one watching Lemmingstar with concern. Lynxshine and Rollerfall arrived with anxiety itching through their paws. Martenpaw sat beside Lynxshine.
“Otterpaw said you lost a life,” Gooseleg muttered.
“It’s true,” Lemmingstar groaned. “Newtstorm was climbing Bouldershake for fear that we would attack her. She caused a rockslide. She is with StarClan now.” Rollerfall growled, anger irritating her throat.
“ I told you so ,” she signed, tail flicking from her mouth to everyone. Half the group didn’t understand; only the cats of the holy den and the story-keepers knew what all of Rollerfall’s gestures meant. Others got by with partial knowledge (despite Rollerfall’s blunt suggestion that they learn more).
“We’ve been getting signs from StarClan since we declared war, telling us to stop and think,” Lynxshine huffed. “Why are we ignoring the advice of our ancestors?”
“Because it’s still advice,” Rippedpool grumbled, what little remained of her ears flicking. “Not even Sun and Moon are symbols of perfect morality, despite their power.”
“How is war moral?” Lynxshine snapped, fur rising.
“Enough, both of you,” Palescar grunted. “It is not our choice to make. Lemmingstar has chosen war.”
“Or have you forgotten someone from PuffinClan nearly killed me?” Gooseleg hissed. Her fur hid the scars, but her pelt ruffled at the thought.
“A lost life is not something I take lightly,” Lemmingstar muttered. “Beaverstone and Newtstorm are the casualties of our fighting, and I haven’t forgotten Archpelt, despite the whispers I’ve heard in camp.”
“What are you thinking then?” Sleettuft asked.
“Gooseleg, you deserve revenge,” Lemmingstar admitted, “but my bloodlust has dulled today. It is possible that I have let my fury over the situation drive the Clan to undue bloodshed.”
“Lemmingstar, with all due respect, we’re fully justified,” Rippedpool insisted, stepping into the middle of the group. “PuffinClan continues to blame us for the past moon’s problems, even though our investigations have shown no culprits in CliffClan. Everyone was accounted for the night the border moved, and the night Archpelt died, the only cat out of camp was Gooseleg. Unless we want to suggest an untrained counselor committed murder—”
“Which you aren’t,” Gooseleg growled.
“I know where you two stand on this,” Lemmingstar grumbled, “and where our seers sit. Who else has an opinion to share?”
“I’m not confident either way at the moment,” Palescar admitted.
“Then I’ll state my case,” Hailbranch hummed. “Newtstorm was a respectable counselor, but for her to climb Bouldershake? You don’t need CliffClan training to see how unstable it is. This is an opportunity to make PuffinClan own up to their actions. They have lost a seer and a counselor. You may have lost a life, Lemmingstar, but only Beaverstone has joined StarClan. We are winning this war. We should call for a meeting and lay out our demands.”
“What are our demands, exactly?” Martenpaw asked.
“Simply put?” Hailbranch sighed. “We get to set the rules of our relationship.”
“I don’t know if we are in as strong a position as you claim,” Lemmingstar muttered, “but I believe a meeting is called for. Gooseleg, I want to arrange a truce. Work with Rippedpool and pick a counselor to deliver the message and two warriors to watch from the shadows. The truce won’t be taken seriously if PuffinClan sees them, but I won’t send a counselor unattended. Palescar, Sleettuft, I would like the two of you to stay, but the rest of you may leave.” Rollerfall grumbled something in her cough and led the way out of the den.
“Martenpaw, you didn’t get the chance to eat, did you?” Lynxshine asked, walking alongside the healer apprentice.
“I’ve been running around the territory since dawn,” Martenpaw admitted.
“You know, I spent a half moon training to be a warrior before I became a seer,” Lynxshine remarked. “If you’d like to join me, I think I can hunt a fish for you.”
“Shouldn’t prey go straight to the fresh-kill pile?” Martenpaw asked.
“It would just go back to you,” Lynxshine chuckled. “You’ve worked hard today. Take a break with me.” Lynxshine joined Rollerfall and the two left camp, climbing down the cliff. Martenpaw glanced at her mentor. She talked with Grebeshine outside the holy den, sniffing her infected wound. Martenpaw slowly slipped to the main entrance and looped around to the lower beach.
When she arrived, Lynxshine and Rollerfall sat on a log that drifted to the base of the cliff. From their intent stares, Martenpaw could tell this wasn’t a hunt.
“ Do you want to know what we have seen? ” Rollerfall asked, tail flicking to Martenpaw.
“I guess you’re going to tell me,” Martenpaw gulped.
“Ever since the war started, our dreams have been filled with the wails of dying cats,” Lynxshine explained, his usual gentle nature gone. “A storm covers our two Clans. We’re reaching a point of no return where our Clans will collapse into one another and fade.”
“Fade?” Martenpaw gasped. “You can’t be serious.”
“The outcome won’t be good,” Lynxshine huffed. “That’s why we must have Lemmingstar call for peace with this truce. Rippedpool, Hailbranch, and Gooseleg want to further punish PuffinClan. Palescar and Sleettuft are neutral. We need your support, Martenpaw.”
“It’s not going to count for a lot,” Martenpaw snapped, the pressure making her heart race. “Even if I’m in the den, I’m still an apprentice.”
“You underestimate yourself,” Lynxshine said.
“ We need your voice, ” Rollerfall insisted with a grunt. “ Three against three. We have a chance to convince the others. ”
“If Hailbranch supports the war...” Martenpaw grumbled, losing her confidence. She was a healer. Regardless of her Clan, she was expected to heal everyone. Death was horrible, yet Hailbranch supported something that would only grow the death roll. “What would I even do?”
“Just vote alongside us when Lemmingstar asks about the war,” Lynxshine explained. Martenpaw nodded softly. Hailbranch would respect her opinion, wouldn’t she?
“Do you still want to hunt, or…” Martenpaw muttered.
“Oh, I’m terrible at it,” Lynxshine laughed. “We’ll tell the next hunting patrol to give you some prey. Let’s head back to camp.” Lynxshine hopped off the log and trotted up the hill. Rollerfall paused beside Martenpaw
“ Thank you ,” she said with a nod. Uncertainty silenced Martenpaw as she followed the seers back to camp.
When they stepped into the cave, Lemmingstar sat outside her den, watching CliffClan gather below her. Head cocked slightly, Martenpaw trotted towards Hailbranch, who sat with Honeypaw and Grebeshine outside the holy den.
“A Clan meeting?” Martenpaw guessed. She sat next to her adopted sister and watched Lemmingstar.
“There are two things I wish to discuss with you,” Lemmingstar began. “News has spread about the battle and its events, so I will not dwell on it. I am recovering and none of our clanmates were otherwise injured. After some consideration, I have decided to send a counselor with an escort to the PuffinClan border to ask for a truce. While the topic of discussion has yet to be determined, I believe it is time we use our words rather than our claws and attempt to find an end to this war, one way or another. Gooseleg knows the details of the arrangement.” CliffClan grumbled and cheered, a variety of opinions rippling through camp.
“We’re asking for peace?” Grebeshine muttered, looking to Hailbranch.
“We’re going to discuss the war,” Hailbranch huffed. “We aren’t showing our bellies to PuffinClan.”
“That brings me to some happier news,” Lemmingstar sighed, posture relaxing. “There is a litter of toms within our Clan who have shown their virtues during this conflict. They are young, yes, but they are loyal and strong CliffClan cats. I have spoken with their mentors, and we agree that they have earned the right to become full members of CliffClan. Mistpaw, Briarpaw, Otterpaw, Fowlpaw, step forward.” Grebeshine’s eyes lit up as her sons slipped through the crowd. She stood, groaning from her wound, and hurried to Loudstep. Rippedpool sat with them, her pride flowing off her pelt. Briarpaw’s flank wiggled with anticipation while his brothers looked on with surprise and honor.
“I, Lemmingstar, leader of CliffClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon these apprentices,” Lemmingstar began, standing and hiding a small flinch as her bruises moved. “They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as full members of CliffClan in their turn. Mistpaw, Briarpaw, Otterpaw, Fowlpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code, and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your lives?”
“I do,” the brothers said in unison.
“Then by the power of StarClan, I give you your full names,” Lemmingstar purred. She marched down the slope to stand in front of Fowlpaw. “Fowlpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Fowlstorm. StarClan honors your honesty and integrity and we welcome you as a full counselor of CliffClan.” She had to strain to place her muzzle on Fowlstorm’s tall head, so Fowlstorm bowed slightly, licking Lemmingstar’s shoulder. Briarpaw was next.
“Briarpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Briarspeck. StarClan honors your zeal and energy and we welcome you as a full warrior of CliffClan.” Briarspeck’s tail couldn’t keep still as he licked Lemmingstar’s shoulder. Otterpaw puffed up his chest as his leader stood before him.
“Otterpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Ottersnout. StarClan honors your intelligence and loyalty and we welcome you as a full story-keeper of CliffClan.” Sleettuft’s purrs echoed through the cave as Lemmingstar set her muzzle on Ottersnout’s head. Mistpaw was last, and stood uncertain before his leader. Martenpaw held her breath. Mistpaw had endured his harsh punishment like a warrior. He would forever bear the scars on his legs. Surely Lemmingstar wouldn’t give him another punishment through a cruel name?
“Mistpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Mistblossom,” Lemmingstar declared. “StarClan honors your newfound maturity and humility, and we welcome you as a full warrior of CliffClan. May this past moon stay with you always as a reminder of who you once were and who you will continue to become.” Mistblossom; a name of growth and honor! Mistblossom’s familiar confidence swelled as he licked Lemmingstar’s shoulder.
“Mistblossom, Briarspeck, Ottersnout, Fowlstorm!” Martenpaw cheered for her friends. The Clan picked up her chant. The litter beamed under the praise.
“Mistblossom and Briarspeck will take on the night guard when sundown arrives,” Lemmingstar stated. “Fowlstorm, while a new counselor would traditionally be allowed to go where they please for their vigil, I must ask you to take it at the Lower Beach for your safety. Say goodbye to your family and friends, and we shall see you at dusk.” Fowlstorm wasted no time. He rubbed against his mother and father and gave his grandmother a respectful lick. Then he hurried out of camp, tail high.
“We’ll need to check over our herbs,” Hailbranch warned her apprentice as Fowlstorm said his goodbyes. “This ceremony is a sign of grand conflict ahead.”
“How?” Martenpaw asked.
“Mistblossom, Briarspeck, and Ottersnout will be more free to fight without the need to stay by their mentors,” Hailbranch muttered. The realization hit Martenpaw hard. Was Lemmingstar preparing her friends to die? Her pride flickered.
“Ottersnout, what story will you share to claim your place among the story-keepers?” Lemmingstar asked, heading up the slope to her den.
“I would like to recite a tale I call The Story-Keeper’s Legacy,” Ottersnout declared, turning to Sleettuft. “It tells the story of Sleettuft’s lineage and their devotion to the role of story-keeper.”
“I know you want to celebrate your friend's success, but would you check on the queens and kits?” Hailbranch asked. “I’d prefer to put them at the back of my mind as we prepare for the next stage in this war.”
“Yes, Hailbranch,” Martenpaw said. While she liked Ottersnout, her pelt prickled as he began his story. Ashwhisker trotted into the story-keeper’s den with Goldenshade quickly following. Honeypaw’s ears were red and she avoided the Clan’s gaze. Martenpaw could never have been part of Sleettuft’s legacy, but she saw what it was doing to her family. It wasn’t something to celebrate.
Avocetcloud sat outside the nursery, watching her kits as they got lost in Ottersnout’s tale. Brownleap laid just within the den nursing her kits. Both of their eyes lacked life.
“Hello,” Martenpaw said, silently examining the pair for disease. “I wanted to check on everyone’s health in the nursery. How are you all feeling?”
“My kits are eating prey now,” Avocetcloud sighed, not looking at Martenpaw. “I need to stop my milk, but it keeps coming. Milkkit has to stop nursing.”
“I’ll fetch you some parsley,” Martenpaw promised. “Brownleap, I'll check on you once I’m done.” The younger queen nodded slowly, focused on her kits. Martenpaw made a note to have a counselor speak with the queens. She could guess what troubled Brownleap, but Avocetcloud was a mystery.
Hailbranch was gone when Martenpaw returned. Perchkit, Pochardkit, and Milkkit sat between the nursery and the holy den. Perchkit whispered in Milkkit’s ear, attention flipping between Ottersnout and her sister.
“What are you whispering about?” Martenpaw chuckled.
“She’s telling Milkkit the story,” Pochardkit sighed. “It’s rather boring.”
“Ottersnout’s telling the story,” Martenpaw corrected the small kit.
“Yeah, but Milkkit can’t hear him,” Pochardkit scoffed. “Mother will get mad if we ask him to shout, so Perchkit’s telling her.” Dread seeped through Martenpaw’s exhaustion. Mistblossom had mentioned an odd exchange with the kits where Milkkit struggled to understand him, but Martenpaw had dismissed it as an absentminded kit. Was this what Mistblossom meant?
“Why don’t you three come with me,” Martenpaw suggested. “Let’s check out the holy den.” The three kits trotted after the healer apprentice. Honeypaw had escaped into the quiet of the den and looked up from her grooming as they entered.
“Hello, Honeypaw,” Pochardkit chirped.
“I need you and Perchkit to sit by Honeypaw for a bit,” Martenpaw explained. She nosed the pair towards Honeypaw, who watched her with a cocked head.
“I want time with Honeypaw,” Milkkit huffed. As she marched after her littermates, Martenpaw put her tail in front of her. She leaned into her ear.
“I want to play a little game,” Martenpaw whispered. “Face the camp and when I call your name, spin around and run towards me.”
“What do I get if I win?” Milkkit asked. She spoke in a tone Martenpaw used to assume was a typical case of young kits not controlling their volume.
“I’ll add some lavender to a moss ball,” Martenpaw promised. Milkkit’s eyes glimmered. She faced the camp proudly, alert and ready for Martenpaw’s signal. Martenpaw carefully backed away.
“I need you to be quiet now,” she warned the other kits in a whisper.
“What sort of game is this?” Honeypaw whispered.
“Milkkit,” Martenpaw breathed. The little kit didn’t flinch, rather chewing an itch on her paw. Martenpaw raised her voice to a normal volume. “Milkkit.” Once again, Milkkit did not respond. Honeypaw gasped, realizing what Martenpaw was doing.
“Milkkit!” Perchkit yowled. Milkkit spun around and slammed into Martenpaw with a cheer.
“You took forever!” Milkkit groaned. “Now where’s my moss ball? I won the game so I’m not sharing.”
“Rude!” Pochardkit huffed.
“Honeypaw, can you get the moss ball?” Martenpaw stammered. “I need to talk to Hailbranch.”
“She went to Lemmingstar’s den,” Honeypaw pointed out as she looked for lavender. Martenpaw hurried into the clearing just as Ottersnout finished his story. The Clan cheered for his success, ignoring Martenpaw’s climb towards the leader’s den.
“Hailbranch, what you’re suggesting,” Lemmingstar stammered inside, “it borders on blasphemy.”
“PuffinClan was once a part of CliffClan,” Hailbranch reminded her. Martenpaw froze outside the den, ears focused in.
“I have given six lives for CliffClan, not for PuffinClan.” Six? No, Lemmingstar had only lost five lives so far, counting the rockslide. As the next healer of CliffClan, she was blessed with that secret knowledge for the sake of Lemmingstar’s health. She wouldn’t lie to her.
Hailbranch came to the same conclusion as her eavesdropping apprentice, muttering “You lost two lives?”
“I died twice under those rocks. It gave me time to ponder this war. Is it worth it?”
“Is it worth playing the part of the villain in every interaction we have with PuffinClan? I’m thinking beyond this war. Every time something occurs between us, PuffinClan declares us monsters. There are many clanmates here who would agree that behavior must be stopped.” There was a long pause.
“StarClan would not have given the leaders of PuffinClan their nine lives if they did not want them to be a Clan,” Lemmingstar muttered, more unsure than Martenpaw felt comfortable with.
“Perhaps they did. For a while. We all know the story. Two halves of our Clan, conflicted in ideals. Puffinstar took our ancestors to the hills. They learned the virtues of little kindnesses while we developed warrior’s strength. PuffinClan’s existence could be an era of education, meant to end with the reformation of our Clan. Is it out of the realm of possibility that Sun sees a future where our Clans reunite and combine the best of our ideals into a better Clan?”
“I’d be a fool to say no. You would be one too if you didn’t acknowledge the opposite. PuffinClan plays the victim far too often, but to absorb them into CliffClan… that presents obstacles I cannot predict, the first of which being PuffinClan’s reaction. They would never allow it.”
“Then fight! Reunite our Clans through force. Those StarClan have deemed not fit will make a new life elsewhere. Tell them the future we see and welcome those who join us with an open heart. They can accept that fate or face the final battle.” Martenpaw knew Hailbranch’s plan would never work. PuffinClan would rather die than submit to CliffClan. They held grudges for generations. Was this final battle the storm Rollerfall and Lynxshine saw?
“What are you doing?” someone huffed behind her. Rippedpool watched Martenpaw with a raised brow.
“Just waiting for the right moment to step in,” Martenpaw gulped, trying to cover.
“Do you need something, Martenpaw?” Hailbranch asked, poking her head out. Her face carried remnants of the grim conversation. Martenpaw remembered why she came up there.
“I want a second opinion on Milkkit,” she explained. “I think she’s partially deaf.” Something switched in Hailbranch’s face, returning her to her duties.
“I’ll check,” Hailbranch muttered. “Lemmingstar, rest today.” Martenpaw led her mentor down the slope and back to the holy den. Honeypaw stuffed the last lavender petal into the moss ball and tossed it to Milkkit.
“She can’t hear us unless we shout or get into her ear,” Martenpaw sighed. Milkkit tackled the moss ball and rolled around the den.
“Milkkit,” Hailbranch called. While her sisters turned their gaze to the newcomer, Milkkit focused on her toy. Hailbranch nodded grimly. “I trust your observation. How did I not notice this?”
“Her sisters cover for her,” Martenpaw explained. “They don’t understand what being deaf means.”
“Clearly she has some hearing,” Hailbranch muttered, “otherwise we would have noticed sooner. Traditionally, white kits with blue eyes are born deaf, but Milkkit has black ears. It’s almost funny; a partially white kit becomes partially deaf.”
“What does it mean for her?” Honeypaw asked.
“Whatever she chooses in life, her mentor will need to be patient and speak clearly,” Hailbranch hummed. “I doubt it would prevent her from any role, however. Becoming a story-keeper may be the toughest to achieve, due to the details required…”
“Milkkit, they’re talking about you!” Perchkit called. Milkkit glared at the healers with all the anger a moon old kit could muster.
“The three of you, come here,” Hailbranch declared. Milkkit carried her prize over and sat between her sisters. “I need to explain something to you all, and I’ll be telling your mother as well. Milkkit is deaf.”
“No,” someone gasped. Avocetcloud stood outside the holy den, pupils narrowed in horror. Martenpaw had completely forgotten about the parsley!
“Avocetcloud, it’s alright,” Martenpaw began.
“She’s not deaf!” Avocetcloud spat, marching towards her kits.
“Yeah, she’s not dead!” Perchkit mimicked her mother.
“Not dead, deaf,” Hailbranch corrected. “And only partially, Avocetcloud. Haven’t you noticed that Milkkit doesn’t hear you unless you yowl?”
“She isn’t completely white,” Avodetcloud stammered. “Hailbranch, you told me I should only worry about that if one of my kits were completely white!”
“White kits are not the only deaf cats in the world,” Hailbranch huffed.
“StarClan is punishing me,” Avocetcloud groaned, pacing around the den. “I should have been more excited to be a mother.”
“Mother, does being deaf mean Milkkit can’t hear us?” Pochardkit asked, copying her mother’s frantic behavior. “We already knew that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Avocetcloud hissed, teeth showing. Pochardkit squealed and hid behind Milkkit. Avocetcloud stepped back, shaking her head as regret seeped through her.
“They’ve told multiple cats, but no one understood,” Martenpaw sighed.
“I should have noticed,” Avocetcloud mumbled. “I’m their mother! I should never have had kits, I’m failing them.” Pochardkit’s fear shifted into an emotion too mature for a kit to understand. Avocetcloud clawed the ground.
“Honeypaw, fetch your mother,” Hailbranch ordered. “Martenpaw, let’s take the kits out. They don’t need to see this.” Avocetcloud was so lost in her head, she didn’t notice everyone evacuate the holy den.
“I want my dad,” Milkkit whined, still carrying her moss ball.
“He’s in the warrior’s den, go to him,” Hailbranch suggested. Milkkit ran off, with Pochardkit hurrying behind her. Perchkit glanced into the holy den once more before she joined her sisters. Hailbranch shook her head sadly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” Martenpaw muttered.
“I didn’t either,” Hailbranch sighed. “I’ll have to explain this to Fidgetflower. Did you check on Brownleap?”
“I’ll do that now,” Martenpaw promised as Honeypaw led Goldenshade back to the holy den. The two healers headed towards their tasks. Brownleap was waiting for Martenpaw when she entered the nursery. Dovekit and Shellkit were asleep.
“Everyone’s busy,” Martenpaw said. “If you want to talk about you-know-who, do it now.”
“Snailnose must be traumatized,” Brownleap mumbled. “You don’t think he blames me for Archpelt’s death, do you?”
“Of course not!” Martenpaw insisted.
“I wish I could have interacted with him more. He barely batted an eye at our relationship. He was so kind, who would want to kill him?”
“From what I’ve heard he wasn’t very close with his old apprentice.” Brownleap struck Martenpaw’s leg.
“Don’t joke about that. I have to believe that PuffinClan wasn’t lying and they really found CliffClan scent on Archpelt. I wish I could see Snailnose.” Martenpaw suddenly remembered Hailbranch’s speech.
“You’ll never believe what I overheard. Hailbranch is trying to convince Lemmingstar to merge our Clans.” Brownleap stared at her with mouth slightly agape.
“We could be together,” she muttered.
“I suppose, but PuffinClan wouldn’t go along with that without a fight,” Martenpaw pointed out, sitting next to the queen. “Snailnose won’t abandon his family.”
“Is it wrong to think such selfish things?”
“I think love’s made you bat-brained. How are you doing, otherwise? Are the kits healthy?”
“It’s tough to produce milk some days. I think it’s the stress.”
“I’ll get you some borage.”
“What I need are answers. I have to help my mate.” Brownleap sat up, her kits nestled by her paws, squirming from the sudden movement. Her eyes focused in, the exhaustion slipping to the background. “If the killer came from CliffClan, they had to leave camp without anyone noticing. But there are no tunnels in any of the dens. Even the dirt place tunnel leads nowhere, just a cave looking over the sea. You can’t climb out from there. The camp is sealed off.”
“You snuck off plenty of times to see Snailnose. It’s not impossible.”
“I left down the cliffside exit, typically, but I still had to pass the night guards.” Avocetcloud trudged into the den, pelt sagging. She curled into her nest, facing the wall. Martenpaw had an idea.
“Didn’t Rollerfall’s birth prediction say your kits would be adventurous?” Martenpaw asked.
“She said they would visit places not often seen by CliffClan eyes,” Brownleap admitted, hesitating.
“I can already see them sneaking out of camp for adventures. Don’t you remember when I bolted out of camp and the night guards had to chase me?”
“I was the one to catch you. You were a naughty kit, to be sure.”
“You don’t suppose there are any ways a kit could sneak away without the night guards noticing, do you?” Martenpaw winked at Brownleap.
“Um… that would be terrible!”
“Cats rediscover old crannies in this cave all the time. There could be a secret tunnel leading out of camp!”
“If there’s one thing I don’t have to worry about, it’s that,” Avocetcloud grumbled, turning over.
“Oh? What do you mean?” Brownleap asked.
“I’m a story-keeper,” Avocetcloud huffed. “Not only that, I keep a record of the tunnels in our territory. The closest tunnel to camp is flooded, something with the sea and air must push water through the cliff.”
“Well now we know not to worry about troublesome kits,” Martenpaw purred. “Thank you. Did talking to Goldenshade help you?” Avocetcloud rolled back over. Brownleap sat beside the older queen and placed her tail on her back. “Brownleap, I’ll find a solution to that problem of yours.”
“Thank you,” Brownleap sighed. Martenpaw left the nursery, an idea stirring. She couldn’t talk to PuffinClan directly. Even though she would meet with Shimmerblaze at the half-moon healer’s gathering the next night, the senior healer would never reveal details of their brother’s murder. No, Martenpaw would have to go through a second source. If she talked to Saltfrost at the Stacked Stones under the guise of medical advice, Saltfrost could talk to Shimmerblaze and report back to Martenpaw. The plan could easily fail, but it was the best Martenpaw could do.
Martenpaw bumped into a mass of brown and white fur.
“Sorry, Martenpaw!” Lynxshine gasped. “I was just going to tell Avocetcloud a sign I had.”
“Is it about—wait, is your nose bleeding?” Martenpaw grunted. Blood dripped from Lynxshine’s nostril.
“I was looking over the cliff and the light hit the sea with such brilliance, it turned white like milk,” Lynxshine explained, rubbing his paw against his nose. “Suddenly my nose started bleeding, and a drop of blood mixed into the waves. I think Milkkit is destined to be a warrior.”
“Now’s not the best time to talk about Milkkit,” Martenpaw whispered. “Listen, I need a favor. Tell Hailbranch about your vision and keep her distracted. I need to leave camp. I can’t explain why, but it might help stop the war. She’s with Fidgetflower.”
“Say no more,” Lynxshine declared. He trotted to the warrior’s den while Martenpaw scampered out of camp.
Her body groaned from the trips she had taken that day; The sun was in the lower part of the afternoon sky when she made it to the Stacked Stones. She still had yet to eat! But Martenpaw had to gather this information. She had to know who killed Archpelt.
She sat by the arch and leaned against the stone. She had to hope an ElkClan patrol would come by soon. Exhaustion played with her eyes like kit toys. Her head dipped down more than once, only for Martenpaw to snap awake. She clawed at moss stuck to the edges of the stones, reciting herbs under her breath.
Something moved in the corner of her eye. Martenpaw turned towards the hills. Blue eyes met her in the distance. Martenpaw spun back around the stones. Had PuffinClan seen her? Faint voices spoke with one another. Martenpaw tucked her tail in. She prayed to StarClan, to any cat who bore the suffix -shade, to keep her hidden.
Claws clicked against rock. Someone brushed against the vines and moss. Martenpaw held her breath.
“What are you doing here?” Snailnose whispered.
“StarClan, Snailnose,” Martenpaw gasped, tumbling forward. “I thought you were going to attack me!” Snailnose stood under her, the smell of Newtstorm’s body drifting around him. She batted him back. “Don’t get close to me! The last thing we want is our scent spreading. Go to the other side of the arch.” Snailnose obeyed, scrambling onto the stones. The two were back to back, but Martenpaw pictured Snailnose’s lanky frame in front of her.
“How is she?” Snailnose gulped.
“She’s worried about you,” Martenpaw admitted. “She knows how much your father meant to you.” Snailnose was silent for a long time. Martenpaw waited.
“Did Lemmingstar order it?” Snailnose growled. “I won’t tell, I just need to know.”
“CliffClan was honest,” Martenpaw insisted. “We would never kill a seer. Whomever it was acted outside of the Clan’s wishes.”
“Then you agree? It was your Clan?”
“That’s why I’m here. I was going to go through Saltfrost to ask Shimmerblaze, but this is easier. If I’m going to stop further death, I need to find Archpelt’s murderer and Gooseleg’s attacker. Was PuffinClan honest as well?”
“Yes. We don’t lie.”
“Then what haven’t you told CliffClan about Archpelt’s murder? I need details.” Martenpaw waited once more as Snailnose thought. Goldenshade once told her to give the grieving time. Despite her urge to shake the truth out of him, she would wait.
“He was going to the Hollow that night,” Snailnose explained quietly. “Murkstream had a dream that we had to find him. We found his body at the edge of the territory. The blood showed that he wasn’t killed there, because it didn’t pool around his… you know. The smell of a CliffClan molly covered him.”
“You keep saying a CliffClan molly. You can tell whether the killer was a tom or molly but not who they are?”
“That’s just it. I could smell a molly, but anything I could use to identify her was covered up by general CliffClan smells. Rocks, dirt, bats, things like that.”
“The killer knew how to hide her scent, but not her Clan or gender?” That could not be a coincidence. “Snailnose, was there anything else? Anything strange in the territory?”
“A patrol found something the day after. It was a rabbit’s den. The prey must have been sleeping, so someone went in… it was a massacre.” Dead rabbits? The scene unfolded in front of Martenpaw.
“Gooseleg said her attacker smelled of wind and rabbits, the PuffinClan scent.” Martenpaw hopped off the stones to look Snailnose in the eye. “I don’t think it was PuffinClan scent. I think whoever killed Archpelt killed the rabbits to smell like PuffinClan. The murderer and Gooseleg’s attacker are the same cat! They set us both up to take the blame!” And the Clans could have discovered this if they talked to each other, but no. War.
When Martenpaw was still Martenkit, Sleettuft gave her adopted sisters a lesson in investigation. It was only the basics, but he told them that the timeline was important. Knowing when something occurred and what happened around that moment were vital to punishing codebreakers. Martenpaw pictured the night of the new moon. The killer left camp, whichever that may be. She killed Archpelt, slaughtered the rabbits, and attacked Gooseleg. Or maybe she slaughtered the rabbits, attacked Gooseleg, then killed Archpelt. The killer got back to their camp before anyone grew concerned. CliffClan invaded PuffinClan, demanding answers just as news of Archpelt’s murder arrived. Martenpaw didn’t want to think of the battle that broke out just outside PuffinClan camp.
“Who was out of camp that night?” Martenpaw asked.
“Archpelt,” Snailnose sighed. “A few cats dipped in and out to make dirt. The patrol left to find Archpelt, but none of us split from the group. We came back together as CliffClan arrived.”
“How easy is it to sneak past your guards?”
“You’d have to be the size of a kit. That’s why no one in PuffinClan could have attacked Gooseleg. They didn’t have time.”
“So it has to be CliffClan.” Martenpaw didn’t want to blame a Clanmate for murder, but she didn’t have another choice. The caves and tunnels of CliffClan, even if they were disconnected from the camp, allowed for more secrecy than PuffinClan’s fields. “The killer had to get back to camp before Gooseleg, because there was no chance of sneaking back in afterwards. There must be a secret way into CliffClan. I need to get back and find it.”
“Martenpaw, Brownleap isn’t safe in CliffClan.” Snailnose faced the apprentice, taking care to stay back. “My father’s killer drove our Clans to war. If she learns about Dovekit and Shellkit…”
“If it gets too dangerous, I’ll tell her to take the kits to PuffinClan. Keeping the secret doesn’t matter as much as keeping your kits safe.” Martenpaw grimaced as she said, “Maybe this is the next part of those ‘romantic dreams’ Brownleap mentioned.”
“Thank you, Martenpaw. I’m sorry for everything PuffinClan has done. Even if the killer came from you, that doesn’t excuse our actions.”
“I need to get back, and so do you.” Martenpaw clawed more moss off the stones and gathered them into a pile. “Good luck, Snailnose.” She grabbed the moss and hurried back into CliffClan land. If anyone asked where she had gone, she could claim to be gathering fresh moss.
There weren’t many cats Martenpaw could trust, save for two.
“ You were lucky he was understanding ,” Rollerfall signed that night, as Hailbranch slept in her little alcove and the other residents of the holy den faced one another. Martenpaw nodded, refusing to reveal the truth of the matter. If she could protect Brownleap, she would. Her relationship didn’t involve the war.
“And we are certain it’s CliffClan at fault?” Lynxshine gulped.
“We’re the ones with tunnels,” Martenpaw huffed. “There has to be a tunnel Avocetcloud doesn’t know that leads out of camp.”
“Even if the killer got to camp before Gooseleg, wouldn’t they be covered in her scent?” Lynxshine asked.
“ We all were by night’s end ,” Rollerfall explained with a roll of her eyes. “ Everyone checked on her. Blood and battle hid all other smells. ”
“We find the tunnel, we find the killer,” Martenpaw declared in a whisper. “Tomorrow, we start searching. We can’t rule anyone out as a suspect, not even the toms. If they hung around the nursery, they could have gathered molly smell.”
“Are you sure?” Lynxshine muttered, voice cracking.
“ We aren’t story-keepers ,” Rollerfall said with sharp gestures.
“It’s the best we can do,” Martenpaw sighed. “I wish we could search within the camp, but I don’t want to alert the killer. Who knows what they’ll do to us.”
“I need to sleep,” Lynxshine groaned, settling into his nest. “Maybe StarClan will visit our dreams?”
“More blood and storms,” Rollerfall mumbled, voice clawing against her throat.
“Tomorrow then,” Martenpaw muttered as the seers closed their eyes. Martenpaw laid down, facing into the camp. This was far beyond her job description.
“Grebeshine and Ottersnout will be watching from the tunnels,” Loudstep warned Fowlstorm the next morning. The young counselor stood at the edge of the entrance slope, his healed mother and brother at his sides. “If anything goes wrong, they’ll help you.”
“I know, Dad,” Fowlstorm huffed, pelt prickling. “I want to get this over with.”
“Good luck,” Loudstep sighed, forehead to Fowlstorm’s forehead. The patrol climbed out of camp, ready to ask PuffinClan for a truce. Martenpaw watched them leave from the edge of the elder’s den as she freshened the nests. Lynxshine prayed over the den while Hailbranch helped Firestripe stretch his legs. The Clan seemed rather normal that day, going about their patrols and training.
“Do you think you can fetch me some of those comfrey roots?” Firestripe groaned. “My legs are bugging me something fierce.”
“We’ve had to use them all for wounds,” Hailbranch muttered. “I can give you bugle berries.”
“They don’t work the same,” Firestripe grumbled. He gasped as Hailbranch moved his back leg a bit too fast, the muscles spasming. Martenpaw glanced at Lynxshine. The young seer nodded.
“Hailbranch, why don’t I take Martenpaw out to get more comfrey?” Lynxshine suggested. “Rollerfall found a spot yesterday that may have some.”
“You should bring an escort,” Hailbranch sighed, glancing around camp. “PuffinClan could come after you.”
“If we live in fear of PuffinClan all the time, we won’t be a Clan,” Firestripe scoffed. “You two, get me my herbs.”
“You’re not the healer,” Hailbranch snapped. She shook her head and sighed “Just be careful. No daydreaming, and hurry back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Martenpaw declared, abandoning the nests. She and Lynxshine hurried out of camp with as much grace as they could pretend to muster. They bolted for the closest tunnel and slipped into the dark.
“How centered are you down here?” Lynxshine asked, glancing down two tunnels.
“I try to picture the sun,” Martenpaw explained, taking the lead. “If I know where the west is, I can find my way. This tunnel looks like it gets close to camp.” Martenpaw took the lead, whiskers brushing against dirt and eyes growing wide to soak in the shadows. It was strange, giving direction to an older cat. Sure, he was only six moons older, but he had his full name, and Martenpaw didn’t. Privately, she considered herself smarter than some of her clanmates, but not enough to lead others. If she faced failure, all the blame would fall on her. Why couldn’t she spend her days sorting herbs and treating wounds?
“I hear water,” Lynxshine pointed out. Martenpaw heard it too; a gentle bubbling and splashing against the ground. She hurried along.
The healer and seer rounded a corner into a small cave. Water pooled at their paws and the tunnel roof sloped to the water’s surface. Martenpaw couldn’t tell how deep or how far the water ran.
“This is the tunnel Avocetcloud mentioned,” Martenpaw mumbled. “She’s right, it’s flooded.” There was no way this tunnel led to the camp. Otherwise the dens would be soaked!
“Let’s head back,” Lynxshine suggested. “Maybe there’s a tunnel to the south.” This time, Lynxshine led the duo down the tunnels.
Not long after, the pair emerged into the sun, shaking dust from their pelts. They were in the center of the territory, in a small grove of elms.
“Nothing,” Martenpaw growled. “There are no tunnels. How did the killer get out of camp?”
“They probably left down the cliff and looped by the border,” Lynxshine sighed.
“They never would have gotten back to camp in time!” Martenpaw snapped.
“We’ll have to find a new strategy,” Lynxshine assured her tail on her back. “Look, this is the area Rollerfall said has comfrey. Let’s fulfill our promise.” Martenpaw grumbled under her breath, but began sniffing.
The pair dug up a few flowers, collecting the roots. Lynxshine even found some woad tucked in the corner of the tunnel entrance. Martenpaw stewed by the elms while Lynxshine collected the herb. Maybe the flooded tunnel was connected to the camp. How deep did the water run? Wouldn’t the killer have come out soaked?
Movement caught Martenpaw’s eye. Fowlstorm, Grebeshine, and Ottersnout marched across the territory, unwounded.
“What did PuffinClan say?” Martenpaw asked, jogging to meet them.
“They’ll give an answer at the healer’s gathering tonight,” Fowlstorm grunted.
“Would you like some help bringing these herbs back?” Grebeshine wondered, nudging the comfrey.
“Yes, please,” Lynxshine chirped. “We can all walk back to camp together.” Martenpaw and Grebeshine grabbed a bundle of comfrey. Fowlstorm and Ottersnout debated about PuffinClan’s answer as they led the group home. A bit of hope sparked in Martenpaw’s chest. If PuffinClan would help end the war, maybe the killer would be caught.
“I don’t know how to talk to Shimmerblaze,” Martenpaw admitted as she walked with Hailbranch along the ElkClan/PuffinClan border. The journey to the Hollow took the longest for CliffClan, so while the healers left camp in the afternoon, it was closing in on moonhigh as they walked.
“Shimmerblaze is a healer,” Hailbranch sighed. “We, as healers, do not blame other healers for the actions of our Clans. Out of everyone in PuffinClan, Shimmerblaze is the one we hold the least blame towards. They are the oldest and wisest healer in the Clans, and they must be respected. They will know better than to blame us for Archpelt’s unfortunate death.” Martenpaw nodded along. Hailbranch’s words felt hypocritical with the blame she had already thrown, but she was still Martenpaw’s mentor and the smartest cat she knew.
“Hailbranch, Martenpaw!” someone called. Cranefeather and Saltfrost jogged out of the trees, joining the pair along the border.
“Good evening, Cranefeather,” Hailbranch said with a polite nod. “Has your Clan recovered from PuffinClan’s raid?”
“Nutstar and Cardinalblaze were tossed about, but they’ve all recovered,” Cranefeather declared proudly.
“I can’t believe Morningshine,” Saltfrost grumbled. “She’s a moon pregnant, and didn’t tell anyone until right after the battle!”
“No!” Martenpaw gasped, allowing herself to drift in healer gossip.
“Thank StarClan she didn’t fight, but she was determined to hide it until Smalltail became a counselor,” Saltfrost huffed, shaking her head. “I’ve had a moon of checkups to catch up on, not forgetting the battle wounds, and then Patchkit started coughing last night!”
“Is it bad?” Martenpaw asked.
“We’re hoping it isn’t whitecough,” Cranefeather admitted. “If we have to start fighting it now, I don’t know if we’ll last through the winter.”
“Catmint is something we have in excess,” Hailbranch said as the Hollow came into view. “If you need it, simply send over a patrol. Perhaps in exchange for a squirrel; I’ve only had one and it may just be my favorite prey.” The ElkClan healers entered the Hollow first. Hailbranch let her apprentice in before her.
Shimmerblaze sat by the wall of the Hollow, watching the moon. Dust gathered under their thick ginger coat. Dried blood stained the insides of their paws in hard to reach spots. The gray on their muzzle turned white in the light.
“Shimmerblaze,” Cranefeather sighed. He sat beside the elder healer and groomed their pelt. Saltfrost and Hailbranch, ever the symbols of maturity, took their spots. Martenpaw slunk beside her mentor with her tail tucked.
“Hello, Shimmerblaze,” she whispered. Shimmerblaze gazed upon Martenpaw. Their pupils were calm, slowly taking the young apprentice in.
“Thank you,” they said. Martenpaw straightened, confused. “Breezeclaw told me how you helped Newtstorm before your own leader. I know you couldn’t save her. The fact that you tried means more to me than I can express.” Martenpaw’s heart raced as she bowed to Shimmerblaze. She made a silent promise to find their brother’s killer, and soon.
“Another lost soul?” Cranefeather muttered.
“Newtstorm lost her life in a rockslide,” Shimmerblaze explained. “She brings the grief of PuffinClan with her, telling my brother how much he is missed.”
“And Beaverstone before that,” Saltfrost grumbled, giving everyone a disappointed glare. Did she have to look at Martenpaw like it was her fault? She tried so hard to keep Beaverstone alive. She wasn’t to blame for the war. Even Hailbranch shifted under the young molly’s harsh stare.
“I hope we aren’t too late,” Emberpool called, poking her head into the Hollow.
“We’re discussing the latest casualty of our war,” Shimmerblaze muttered. “Newtstorm was buried in a rockslide trying to run from a CliffClan patrol. CliffClan is not at fault, however. Newtstorm was standing watch while PuffinClan tried to bury CliffClan tunnels, and ran up Bouldershake.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Emberpool groaned. “I’m sorry, Shimmerblaze. I have some happy news to share, however!” She slipped into the Hollow and waved her tail at someone outside. A ginger tom ran into the walls a few times before he could enter the dead tree. Even then, his paws tumbled out from underneath him, sending him skidding across the ground.
“Hi,” the tom chirped, scrambling to sit by Emberpool.
“Saltfrost and Cranefeather have already met my new apprentice, Antlerpaw,” Emberpool purred. “Antlerpaw, this is Shimmerblaze from PuffinClan, and Martenpaw and Hailbranch from CliffClan.”
“This is the strange condition you mentioned,” Hailbranch hummed. “Welcome, Antlerpaw.
“I’m not strange,” Antlerpaw grunted, pelt prickling. “Grandmother says I’m clumsy.”
“I’ve tried to figure out his condition since I first noticed,” Emberpool sighed. “I need your advice. Antlerpaw, can you walk around and let the other healers see you?”
“This night isn’t about me,” Antlerpaw snapped. Even though he sat still, his body rumbled slightly with small tremors.
“Please do it,” Emberpool begged. Whiskers twitching with irritation, Antlerpaw circled the Hollow. He couldn’t walk in a straight line, and fell more than once.
“Honeypaw got a concussion this quarter moon,” Martenpaw pointed out. “Did Antlerpaw ever hit his head?”
“Not before the tremors,” Emberpool said.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Antlerpaw grunted, sitting.
“Except I’ve never seen a kit fall and bruise so often,” Emberpool huffed. “Not to mention your joints hurt as much as an elder’s if you run around too much.”
“He won’t be hunting or fighting,” Shimmerblaze muttered, “and if the tremors themselves are not painful, I don’t see why his treatment can’t focus on the aftermath.”
“Still, I think we should hunt down a herb to ease the shaking,” Cranefeather piped up. “I suggest a diet of bay berries and vervain, with the occasional juniper berry.”
“Bay doesn’t grow in our territory,” Emberpool pointed out. “Will one of you give up your bay berries?”
“I’ll talk with our counselors,” Saltfrost declared. “Any spare catmint you have would be appreciated in return.”
“Now what about Magpieflower?” Hailbranch asked “Has her condition improved?”
“She finally woke up,” Emberpool purred. “She seems better than she has been in moons. Antlerpaw is helping with her physical therapy. She will have to adapt to a missing paw, but Antlerpaw had an idea. Tell them.”
“I’m going to attach a stone to her leg,” Antlerpaw declared. The healers stared at him, as though expecting him to finish the joke and get to the actual treatment.
“And how do you expect to do that?” Saltfrost asked.
“Well if a cobweb dries onto skin, it’s really hard to get off,” Antlerpaw explained. “It was hard removing Rabbitface’s bandages because of that. If I wrap Magpieflower’s stump and a paw-sized rock in cobweb and let it dry, it might stay on! There has to be something in the Clans that can work.”
“A passion project,” Hailbranch hummed. “You’ve picked a rather determined young apprentice, Emberpool. Tell me, once his training is complete, will you have kits of your own?”
“I consider plenty of my clanmates to be my kits,” Emberpool admitted with a laugh. “I don’t need any more.”
“If that’s all the news from SealClan,” Shimmerblaze sighed, “I have important news to relay to CliffClan.” The healers straightened up, the world on pause for Shimmerblaze’s news. They took their time, looking everyone in the eye before settling on Hailbranch. “PuffinClan will accept the truce.” Cranefeather and Emberpool trilled, relief spreading through the Hollow. Martenpaw couldn’t help but purr. “Whalestar will bring his deputy and counselors to the border in the morning.”
“And Lemmingstar shall bring her council,” Hailbranch promised.
“Finally,” Saltfrost sighed, her own pleasure leaking through her grumpy exterior. “Now that the weight of that is lifted, does anyone have new knowledge to share? New discoveries or techniques invented?”
“I’m curious how Antlerpaw’s idea will work,” Martenpaw chirped, slipping into the comfortable world of medicine. “If SealClan can perfect it, maybe Partridgeleg could get a bunch of sticks for a new leg!”
“Let’s start with the paw,” Emberpool purred. Antlerpaw blinked slowly at Martenpaw, a sign of trust. Martenpaw nodded back. She would finally have healer friends her own age!
“We should be getting back to camp,” Hailbranch sighed, standing. “Lemmingstar will want to hear of this.”
“Safe travels,” Emberpool said, nodding.
“Bye, Antlerpaw!” Martenpaw said with a wave of her tail. “Let’s talk more at the Gathering!” She followed Hailbranch into the chilly night. It wasn’t until she left the Hollow, Archpelt’s final destination, that she noticed how Hailbranch’s hackles shook slightly, as though suppressing something.
“Hailbranch, aren’t you happy?” Martenpaw huffed, walking in sync to her mentor. “The war might be over!”
“If we allow PuffinClan to tread over us tomorrow, all of this will have been for naught,” Hailbranch growled, a clawed foot kicking the grass. “We should decide it all in one grand battle. Just as Puffinstar fought Egretstar for the right to found PuffinClan, both Clans should face each other, the winner controlling the fate of the land.”
“We don’t have to give into PuffinClan, we’re just going to compromise,” Martenpaw stammered.
“Martenpaw, listen closely,” Hailbranch snapped, stopping to stare Martenpaw down. “PuffinClan should never have existed in the first place. CliffClan is weaker because of their betrayal. Life would be better for us all if there were only three Clans by the sea. Less fighting, more kits, more herbs to treat our kin. The honor of CliffClan with the empathy of PuffinClan. We would be better than we ever could have been apart.” Martenpaw didn’t want to admit it, but there was sense in Hailbranch’s words. Wouldn’t life be easier as one Clan? Hailbranch’s stern gaze softened. She licked Martenpaw’s head. “You know I do what I see is best for our Clan, don’t you?”
“You always have,” Martenpaw said. “But… please, Hailbranch, don’t bring this up tomorrow. Cats will die if we keep fighting.” Martenpaw pressed into Hailbranch’s chest. Hailbranch purred gently and licked Martenpaw once more.
“I won’t say anything tomorrow,” Hailbranch promised. “Now, are you tired, my young apprentice?”
“It’s been a long moon,” Martenpaw groaned, moving back.
“Let’s return home,” Hailbranch sighed, nudging Martenpaw onwards. Martenpaw stayed close to her mentor, trying to picture the future ahead.
Lynxshine looked sick as Lemmingstar’s council headed to the border. He stayed close to Rollerfall, holding his breath and his stomach. Martenpaw glanced back at him on occasion, nervous anticipation itching at her paws. She had no idea what Lemmingstar would suggest today. Everyone was quiet as they made the walk. The birds held their song.
“They beat us here,” Gooseleg muttered as they got closer to the border. The PuffinClan patrol waited by one of the old stone piles. Maplesong stood behind Whalestar, whose dull gray fur clung to his ribs. He seemed like a skeleton. All of the counselors sat around them, including Snailnose. Martenpaw met his eyes for a brief moment.
“Gooseleg, stay back,” Lemmingstar whispered. Though her pelt ruffled, Gooseleg obeyed. Lemmingstar stood a tail length from the elder leader, Rippedpool and Sleettuft flanking her. The seers and healers hung back with Gooseleg and Palescar.
“Well?” Whalestar snapped. “You’re the one who asked for this meeting. Say your piece.”
“A conflict with two surviving forces always ends in negotiation,” Lemmingstar decreed, tail wrapped around her. “We have to speak at some point, and I would rather not ruin a Gathering. What would it take to end this war?”
“Oh ho ho, so now you want to back down, Nutstar?” Whalestar laughed, crooked whiskers twitching. The CliffClan council paused, unsure if they all heard the same name. “We’re the ones helping you, you know. Your Clan would have starved if we didn’t let you hunt in our lands. Why shouldn’t we ask for help with some den repair here and there?”
“Is he talking about the Fire of the Long Heat?” Palescar muttered to Gooseleg.
“Here are our demands,” Maplesong interrupted, standing in front of Whalestar. “As retribution for the murder of Archpelt, we will be hunting on your territory for a full moon and performing an investigation into who among you committed the crime.”
“You’re just a deputy, and your leader is so ancient, he doesn’t know where he is,” Rippedpool hissed. She flicked an ear to Whalestar, who stared at the sky. “Why would we ever accept those demands?”
“Hold on, that’s just our opening bargain,” Ibisleap snapped, trying to get everyone’s attention.
“Any other demands for us?” Rippedpool grunted. “Perhaps you’d like us to groom you.”
“Rippedpool, enough,” Lemmingstar huffed, glaring at her deputy.
“We have demands of our own,” Sleettuft reminded the group. “We have to run our own investigation to find who attacked my half-sister.”
“PuffinClan lives on open fields, we can’t sneak away from anyone,” Swiftflake scoffed. “How do we know Gooseleg didn’t get those injuries from killing Archpelt?”
“What did you say to me, you little worm?” Gooseleg screeched, lunging towards the border. Palescar and Rollerfall kept her back, pulling on her scruff and standing between her and her target. “I don’t care what our roles are, I’ll rip your teeth out!”
“And you’re supposed to be counselors,” Whalestar muttered, shaking his head.
“Gooseleg, stop it,” Martenpaw growled. Was she the only mature cat here? At least Hailbranch kept quiet.
“Don’t tell me what to do, you saw what PuffinClan did to me,” Gooseleg hissed, but she obeyed Martenpaw’s command, sheathing her claws.
“We’re just trying to live our lives,” Cliffstripe sighed. “Don’t forget, Gooseleg, it was CliffClan that began this mess when you moved the border.”
“Why do we do this?” Lemmingstar muttered, turning to the sky.
“Did you say something, Lemmingstar?” Rippedpool asked.
“How many times have our Clans fought?” Lemmingstar asked. “We fight each other more than any other Clan. We’re trapped in this never-ending loop, spilling blood over a single paw slipped over our borders, which change with the tides. Why don’t we end this?”
“Please don’t say it,” Martenpaw whispered, closing her eyes.
“Why doesn’t PuffinClan merge back into CliffClan?” Lemmingstar suggested. The PuffinClan counselors sat wide-eyed, still processing the words.
“No,” Lynxshine gasped. Whalestar shoved Maplesong aside and stood muzzle to muzzle with Lemmingstar.
“You’ll have to repeat that,” he growled. “It seems in my ancient age, I misheard you.” He glared at Rippedpool when he spoke, surprising the deputy.
“PuffinClan began as part of my Clan,” Lemmingstar explained. “We could end all this fighting and any fighting our kin must face if we join together once more.”
“We are not CliffClan!” Whalestar roared, spit flying into Lemmingstar’s face. “We have not been for generations. You are suggesting the destruction of our way of life!” A few counselors joined their leader with yowling cheers.
“It doesn’t have to be so apocalyptic,” Lemmingstar huffed. “We can join the best of our Clans together.”
“That’s what you tell yourself,” Whalestar scoffed, tattered ears flat. “How long would it take for PuffinClan tradition to be swept aside? We escaped your Clan long ago, and we will fight to keep it that way.” Snailnose stared at Martenpaw, the horror clouding his understanding. Martenpaw had the same expression.
“Then how about one final battle?” Sleettuft suggested, drawing attention to him with a flick of his tail.
“Elaborate,” Rippedpool urged him.
“Long ago, Puffinstar defeated Egretstar as a final declaration to PuffinClan’s independence,” Sleettuft explained in all too familiar words. “Let’s do that once more. The full fighting forces of all our Clans, meeting in this spot in a few hours time. A PuffinClan victory means CliffClan submission to the demands you’ve laid out. CliffClan victory means uniting our Clans.”
“We will die before we let that happen,” Maplesong growled. “We aren’t—”
“I accept your terms,” Whalestar declared, Maplesong’s mouth hanging open. His counselors rose up in argument, but Whalestar roared “Silence! I am your leader and you will honor my decision!” Ibisleap, Cliffstripe, and Graythroat slunk back, cowed by their father’s anger. Maplesong stammered wordlessly.
“If this is what it must come to,” Lemmingstar sighed, staring at Whalestar, “I will summon the full strength of CliffClan.” She flicked her tail back. Lemmingstar and Rippedpool marched for camp. The rest of the group slunk after her while Whalestar bolted away. Snailnose and Martenpaw hung behind, fear gripping them.
“Martenpaw, come,” Hailbranch huffed. Fear shifting into something hotter, Martenpaw ran after her clanmates.
Lynxshine vomited just outside camp, finally succumbing to the strange symptoms.
Martenpaw tuned out Lemmingstar’s words as she called the Clan to meeting and began announcing the upcoming battle. She walked silently with Hailbranch and Rollerfall as they led Lynxshine to a nest.
“We won’t have much time to treat you, but I have a marsh-orchid tuber you can eat,” Hailbranch sighed, heading to her herb stores as though nothing happened. “It should ease your stomach.” Martenpaw stood at the den’s edge, fur bristling as Hailbranch slowly noticed her apprentice’s hesitation. “Martenpaw, are you going to stand there all day?”
“You lied to me!” Martenpaw cried, claws unsheathed as she entered the den. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything!”
“And I didn’t,” Hailbranch pointed out.
“You told Sleettuft the same thing you told me last night,” Martenpaw growled, trying to sound furious even though her voice cracked like a whining kit. “Now our clanmates are going to die!”
“Perhaps that sacrifice is needed to finally be rid of PuffinClan,” Hailbranch said.
“This isn’t just a stomach ache,” Lynxshine groaned, lifting his head. “StarClan is telling me how wrong this is.”
“Well maybe our ancestors are wrong!” Hailbranch snapped, displaying her huge size as she towered over everyone.
“How can you support this?” Rollerfall hissed.
“How can you not?” Hailbranch groaned. “You’re letting a generations-long injustice go unpunished! You’re so caught up in tradition and culture that you can’t see how our Clans would benefit.” Rollerfall set her tail over her former apprentice.
“They won’t join us,” Martenpaw insisted, getting close. “They’ll die or leave the territory entirely.”
“Fine,” Hailbranch snapped. “They can leave Brownleap to the fate of a traitor.” Icy fear bit Martenpaw.
“ She’s no traitor ,” Rollerfall signed, clearly confused.
“A moon ago, Martenpaw met with Snailnose,” Hailbranch explained. “I saw you, Martenpaw. I heard you tell Snailnose how Brownleap was expecting his kits.” Rollerfall and Lynxshine turned to Martenpaw, but the young molly felt no guilt. She stared the seers down, egging them to confront her. “Our Clans may become one by day’s end, but Brownleap has committed treason, working with our enemies in a time of war. All it takes is a word to Lemmingstar to get her and her kits exiled. PuffinClan would never accept her, and we all know what happens to young and vulnerable queens with nursing kits in the wild.”
“You can’t threaten her,” Martenpaw growled. Hailbranch leaned down to Martenpaw’s level, eyes soft.
“You’ve been helping your patient, just like a healer should,” Hailbranch sighed. “I’m not mad at you. This is merely a reminder to let things unfold as they may. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee the safety of Brownleap or her kits. I am loyal to CliffClan above all else.” Martenpaw felt sick. This was so similar to the Hailbranch she knew, yet nothing like her. She had said these things many times before, but now they were exposed in harsh light.
Hailbranch straightened and looked out of the den. “It seems our Clan is beginning preparations. I will be getting a small patrol together to get as many herbs as we can. Why don’t you stay here and look after Lynxshine? I’ll need all three of you to help with injuries.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Martenpaw squeaked. With that, Hailbranch left the three alone, as innocent as ever.
“I might be sick again,” Lynxshine moaned. Martenpaw quickly snatched the tuber from the stores and gave it to Lynxshine.
“ That is how you were able to speak with him ,” Rollerfall signed, soft disappointment making her eyes big.
“I had to protect Brownleap,” Martenpaw insisted. “I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t know how you would react.”
“ While I am hurt, I understand ,” Rollerfall admitted.
“I thought Hailbranch was asleep,” Martenpaw muttered as Lynxshine finished the tuber. “How did she get out of camp without me noticing that night?”
“She sleeps in that alcove by herself,” Lynxshine pointed out, taking deep breaths. “It wouldn’t be hard to fake sleep.” Martenpaw approached Hailbranch’s nest. Hailbranch once told her the elder healer always slept in the alcove. The small patches of moss hiding yew berries and other poisonous things was enough explanation. Hailbranch never allowed her back there, trusting only herself to be near the poisons. The only reason Martenpaw knew about the store was because in the first days of her training, Dawnleaf, Goldenshade’s mother, laid in the pains of old age, unable to pass on yet incapable of doing anything. Hailbranch had revealed the berries and taught Martenpaw the lesson of mercy, of letting the old go when their bodies became stubborn. Was there another reason Hailbranch kept the area off-limits?
The walls of the alcove were covered in thick layers of lichen that dangled against the stone. Martenpaw stood in Hailbranch’s nest. That was when she heard it; the sound of water gentling rippling against dirt. Lacking hope, Martenpaw brushed away a curtain of lichen.
There was a tunnel leading out of camp.
Lynxshine struggled to his paws. The seers joined Martenpaw, marveling at the discovery.
“An ancient healer’s secret?” Rollerfall guessed. Thoughts churning, Martenpaw entered the tunnel. She got a few tail-lengths in before the rock and dirt became mud.
“It’s the flooded tunnel,” Martenpaw muttered. Except the flooded tunnel was no longer quite so flooded. The water was just low enough that a cat could walk or swim through the water and keep their head above it. Martenpaw could see the other side of the tunnel where she and Lynxshine had been the day before.
“I don’t understand,” Lynxshine groaned. “Why isn’t it flooded anymore?”
“Tides,” Rollerfall realized. She switched to sign, saying “ The ocean has tides that change the water level. If this tunnel is connected to the ocean, perhaps the water drains at night and refills in the morning. Every time the tunnel has been found before, it was during the day when the water was high. ”
“Martenpaw, look,” Lynxshine gasped. Dried blood smeared the walls of the tunnel. A few tufts of wet white fur lay soaked in the corners. Martenpaw knew what Rollerfall would say, so she closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to listen, because no matter her flaws, Hailbranch was a good healer and a good mentor.
“Hailbranch doesn’t just support the war,” Rollerfall croaked, fighting back a cough. “She caused it.” The scene played around Martenpaw in sick mockery. Hailbranch slipping out of camp and moving the border, to start a war, to get PuffinClan killed? And when that didn’t work…
“No,” Martenpaw growled. “She doesn’t know how to fight.” She stared at the white fur. Gooseleg’s? Hailbranch’s?
“ Don’t you remember? ” Rollerfall asked, getting in front of Martenpaw. “ She trained as a story-keeper before she was a healer. Even that training would put her above a seer and counselor. ”
“We have to tell someone,” Lynxshine stammered.
“Who?” Rollerfall coughed.
“She’ll label us traitors before we could convince anyone,” Lynxshine realized, a paw rubbing the dried blood. Martenpaw tried to breathe. If she thought too much or too hard about what she had to do, she wasn’t going to get through. She had to do what Hailbranch taught her and put her patients first.
“Brownleap isn’t safe here,” Martenpaw declared. “We’re getting her out of here, and no one’s going to know.” Rollerfall and Lynxshine nodded, the nausea clearing from the latter’s stance. Martenpaw took the lead, racing back to the holy den and into camp. She tried to look collected as everyone ate and prepared for conflict. Avocetcloud was with her mate, trying to convince him that she should go with the patrol, if Honeypaw and Lightpaw were going (No no no, they hadn’t done their battle exams yet! Martenpaw couldn’t think of that) then she could fight too. Brownleap was at the back of the nursery, kits pulled close as she stared at nothing.
“Brownleap, bring your kits into the holy den,” Lynxshine ordered.
“What?” Brownleap stammered, snapping out of it. Martenpaw raced over and leaned into Brownleap’s ear.
“Hailbranch killed Archpelt and knows about Snailnose,” she whispered. “We need to get you out of here.” When she moved back, Brownleap could only stare at her, barely processing the words. Her face reflected the horrible freezing fear Martenpaw clawed and scratched at to keep from being eaten alive. “There’s no time for that face, we have to go!” Martenpaw grabbed Dovekit’s scruff. The tiny kit and his sister had opened their eyes and popped up their ears a few days before. The sudden jostle woke him up, and his wide green eyes looked around the nursery. He mewed and babbled, turning to his mother for help.
“I’m right here,” Brownleap cooed, grabbing Shellkit. The molly was far less angry than her brother, who seemed close to squealing. Shellkit hung without resistance, watching Martenpaw. The seers kept watch as Martenpaw escorted the group to the holy den. To anyone else, this was just a healer making sure a queen and her kits were healthy. Everyone filed towards the secret tunnel.
“I know this is confusing, but we don’t have a lot of time,” Lynxshine said. “If you hold the kits above the water, you should be able to walk through.” Brownleap set Shellkit down.
“I need an explanation,” Brownleap insisted.
“There’s no time!” Martenpaw snapped, mouth full of kit fluff. She passed Dovekit to Rollerfall. “Hailbranch threatened to exile you. She could do much worse, knowing how much she hates PuffinClan. What she’s already done…”
“Where would we go?” Brownleap asked.
“Snailnose is waiting for you,” Martenpaw explained. “I told him I would send him your way if things turned bad. When you get through the tunnel, you’ll have to avoid Hailbranch’s patrol, but beyond that, you have a straight shot to PuffinClan. Everyone else is in camp.”
“Are you coming?”
“We have to stay and help the wounded. If you can get there in time, maybe you can stop the fighting. We can’t say anything without support, and Hailbranch is watching us.”
“Tell me what you know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt either.” Martenpaw gave Brownleap the summarized version of their suspicions; everything Hailbranch had done against PuffinClan and where the evidence sat.
“Lemmingstar will be checking on us soon,” Lynxshine huffed, glancing into the holy den.
“Follow my lead,” Martenpaw ordered. She grabbed Dovekit once more and waded into the water. She couldn’t reach the bottom, but her limited swimming skills kept her head above water. The actual distance to swim was short. Soon Martenpaw was across without getting Dovekit wet. Brownleap had an easier time, able to walk through with Shellkit.
“I don’t know if this will work,” Martenpaw admitted as she passed Dovekit to his mother. Brownleap could barely hold two kits in her mouth, let alone speak. The look in her eyes spoke for her. Martenpaw touched her nose to Brownleap, willing good luck into her bones. “Now run.”