Chapter Text
Mudclaw went to visit his uncle, Barkface.
He was WindClan’s medicine cat so the deputy always checked the medicine cat’s den first. It was very rare for Barkface to be anywhere else save for the typical herb gathering.
It was even rarer now that Tallstar was confined to his den.
Mudclaw commended his leader for putting on a brave face, leading WindClan to the new moors by the lake and making sure the new camp was set up exactly the way it should be like in the old forest territories. Tallstar, with his soft-spoken attitude, steered them all to settle down without a hitch in the process. The camp was built up faster than anyone would have expected and the entire clan could be comfortable once more before leafbare hit.
But every WindClanner knew that Tallstar wasn’t at his best. The leader masked his illness as long as he could. Barkface often made trips to the leader’s den and if he couldn’t, then Mudclaw would bring whatever bundle of herbs his uncle had prescribed to Tallstar. With each passing day, it looked like the old leader ate more herbs than prey which led to him becoming scrawnier.
Whatever illness that struck him must have had mercy on the rest of the Clan, it waited - warded off by the daily consumption of medicinal herbs - before it ravaged Tallstar as soon as everything was done. It started with him being unable to even step paw out of camp without swooning, overcome by extreme weakness. Mudclaw had to drag him by the scruff and take him back to his nest.
Then Tallstar couldn’t even make it to the freshkill pile. Later, the Dirtplace was unreachable to him. Now? The opening of his den marked the edge of his world.
When the deputy entered the medicine cat’s den, he was hit by the foul smelling order of the leaf wrapped bundle in Barkface’s jaws. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose in response; it seemed each passing week, the herbs smelled stronger and stronger to the point where its unbearable.
His uncle put it down besides his paws. “Bring it to Tallstar please,” he meowed at last, his tone naturally a bit flat sounding then he began to pad away.
“Uncle,” meowed Mudclaw after him. His uncle had never been much of a talker and with his graying muzzle, many assumed he was the next oldest cat in WindClan that hasn’t retired to the Elders after Tallstar. But, the brown cat liked to seek out Barkface on matters separate from needing a thorn taken out his paw or herbs.
He liked to tell him about matters that worried him. There was always his littermate, Tornear, that he could turn to but they were the same age. Tornear wouldn’t have any additional experience that he, himself, wouldn’t know. Barkface was like the father he could turn to for wisdom as his true father, Shrewclaw, perished before he was even born.
“Tell me,” mewed the muddy brown tabby, his eyes fixated on the medicine cat, “do you believe that Tallstar will make it through this sickness?”
He saw Barkface stiffen.
His uncle did not turn to face him when he spoke. “Most of the herbs in the bundle is to soothe his aches and keep whatever little strength up. I’ve sought out the strongest and freshest kinds the territory can provide.”
Mudclaw kept silent, stunned at what his uncle was thinking.
“I would advise you to start getting ready to see the Moonpool.”
The deputy didn’t know how to respond. He was thankful for the herb bundle that Barkface left behind. “So there’s little even he can do now,” thought Mudclaw as he left the medicine cat’s den. The camp was bustling with life, clanmates sharing tongues before it would be time for him to send out patrols. Even though he had done this countless times, he now saw it in a new light. His days of deputyship were running out; soon, he’d be actively leading all of them.
He went to give Tallstar his daily herb bundle right away.
Mudclaw organized the patrols and once they had all left, he went out by himself. “I advise you to start getting ready to see the Moonpool.” The prediction from Barkface replayed over and over in his mind. He had served as deputy for so long that he should have been prepared to become leader yet he started to feel as nervous as the day he became deputy. It’s been countless moons; he felt unprepared seeing Tallstar grow weaker with each passing day.
A part of him wished that Tallstar lost his last life in battle, defending WindClan from whatever threat that dared come for them. It was like a thorn; it’d sting when it was ripped out of the paw quickly, but it’d soothe just as fast. Leaving in a thorn, however, only led to a persistent ache that grew in intensity. Mudclaw’s own nerves as the thorn, wrecking havoc within his spirit. He didn’t like to look at his leader and wonder when the hour would finally arrive.
He pressed his ears shut and let out a small, pained wail. How dare he wish for Tallstar to die so brutally? How could he be selfish towards the cat he served for so long? His legs buckled underneath him and the blades of grass tickled against his nose yet he could not move. Hot tears leaked down his cheeks and his claws dug into the moorland soil.
“What am I doing?”
He soon felt hot shame ripple through his pelt. If any of his clanmates saw him collapsed, weeping before any true tragedy had occurred, then that would shatter the tough image he had built up over the seasons. When Tallstar was soft and gentle, he was tough and unyielding. Some Clan matters could only be solved by unsheathing claws and he was always at the head of the attack.
He remembered when WindClan was driven out by ShadowClan in the old territories; back when Brokenstar was in charge. No words of peace got through to that awful monster. The only language ShadowClan understood was bared teeth and blows. If Mudclaw turned soft, what would happen to WindClan then? Would they soon be driven out again? Forced to accept help from another Clan?
The other clans looked down on their sleek and slender frames. It helped with being nimble and quick or else they’d never be able to catch the hares that streaked across the moors. But all that speed came with a cost: fragile, breakable bodies.
Smaller animals could be fierce and threatening when cornered. Even WindClan cats were aware of this. Taking the hare as an example, most would believe that it’s a skittish creature that had no capability of fighting back. None of the other Clans were quick or witty enough to corner one, but every WindClanner knew that hares could put an unaware warrior or apprentice into the elders’ den permanently if they weren’t careful.
All that weakness in prey animal could turn into strength under the right circumstance.
And Mudclaw swore to himself that he could turn WindClan’s fragility into a strength that no other Clan would trifle with.
He forced himself to get up and started to sniff the air for the scent of rabbit. He wasn’t about to come back empty-pawed. WindClan needed to grow and feed itself and no amount of tears would fill anybody’s bellies. “It doesn’t matter if Tallstar is dying,” the deputy thought to himself sourly. “WindClan still needs food and borders need to be checked.”
But why did this sick feeling continue to follow him?
He thought about talking to his brother about it, but he was simply a warrior. He wouldn’t understand what he was worried about unless he became a deputy sometime down the line. He didn’t know how it was like to have leadership lurking around the corner, ready to pounce.
But thinking about deputyship opened a whole new can of worries. If he became leader, he’d need a deputy. He needed to look at all his clanmates to pick the one most worthy of being deputy. He had never thought of doing that before.
Mudclaw ran after a rabbit, his legs burning with each long stride he took. He pushed himself to run faster, to agitate that burning sensation until it turned him numb.
The prey animal was his worries. If he could sink his teeth into it, it would all go away. Temporarily, but it would still leave him enough so that he could breathe again.
The deputy jumped onto the hare by the edge of a small downward slope. With his mind so preoccupied though, he couldn’t clamp his teeth around his catch’s neck in time for the two started to roll downward. The rabbit kicked at him, each one thankfully missing until Mudclaw could finally get his grip again and finish the job.
He was only getting onto his paws with the rabbit held firmly in his mouth when someone white and large stirred in the corner of his gaze. It was accompanied by an unfamiliar scent and two eyes stared directly at him.
It soon stuck out its’ tongue. “Ew,” it said with disgust, “why’d you do that?”
Mudclaw’s fur stood on end and his freshkill dropped to the ground.
He tried to search his memories for anything that even remotely looked like the thing watching him. The only thing familiar was the fact that it stood on two legs and had two arms, reminiscent of Twolegs. But this one was too round to be a Twoleg and it looked like it was made out of pure, white snow. Though, he wasn’t sure if it was true snow since... it was a bit warm on this day.
The deputy placed a paw on the rabbit, unsheathing his claws in case it came closer. “Beat it!” he snapped in reply. He... didn’t care if he could understand it for some reason! It was on WindClan territory. “You’re trespassing on WindClan’s territory! I’m giving you a chance to get out unscathed!”
The ball of snow left out a challenging snort. “You think you can chase me out? You’re just one itty bitty kitty,” it mocked, “I can easily pick you up if you try especially since you’re so skinny looking.”
Rage suddenly burst in his chest. Instantly, his worries about Tallstar’s remaining time vanished, swallowed whole by the way this pile of snow taunted him! “Go ahead and come closer then I’ll show you how easy you really can pick me up!”
It smiled mischievously and didn’t waste another word to start walking towards him. Mudclaw could feel the ground underneath his paws tremble with each footstep and felt himself grow smaller compared to the ball of snow.
But he bared his teeth. He would be no coward.
He forgot about his catch and dodged the ball’s attempt to grab him. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself; the intruder was strong, but far too slow to keep up with him. The ball of snow let out a frustrated grunt and threw aside the dirt in his hand, before facing Mudclaw.
“Coward!” it spat at him, “stop dodging and fight me for real!”
“Fine,” thought the dark brown tom. He charged towards the intruder and leapt up at it. He managed to rake his claws at its cheek, feeling an intense cold surge his arm. He also felt a hand grab on to his tail and as quickly as he felt it, the intruder slammed him into the ground with his belly up.
The sheer force of it stunned him for a heartbeat’s moment. Then his entire body started to ache painfully as he struggled to roll over to his paws. It hurt to tense his muscles up again, but Mudclaw had to be ready for another attack. His amber eyes narrowed at the intruder, waiting for it to rush at him again.
But instead... it had sat down in the grass, rubbing its’ injured cheek. A strange, purple substance leaked from the gash and the ball of snow was trying to smear it off. “I guess you’re stronger than you look,” it huffed. “I don’t want to fight you anymore.”
It sounded like it was saying that out of stubbornness than actually wanting to make some sort of peace. Mudclaw’s hackles were still raised even though the heat of pain licked at every nerve from the harsh landing. “Alright,” he growled in reply. “Then get going. Out.”
The intruder simply yawned loudly. “No. I don’t want to. I’m going to stay right here where it’s not as bad.”
“Are you harebrained?!” How dare they still not want to move?! He had never seen someone so stubborn before! “Are you looking to get chased out? I can have the entirety of WindClan on your tail and believe me when I say we won’t let you go with only a little scratch!” Mudclaw arched his back and let out a loud hiss to intimidate the object, but it fell upon deaf ears.
It simply rolled its’ eyes at him. “I have nowhere else to go,” it pouted, “I don’t know where my team is! I woke up and suddenly I’m in the middle of nowhere with a cat that apparently talks! And I won’t be going anywhere until my team comes get me!” It folded its arms, huffing stubbornly again.
Mudclaw’s tail drooped instantly. So, it was just lost and was waiting for its “team” to come back for it? For a large object, it sure behaved like a spoiled kit. It hadn’t been outwardly antagonizing him either... Really, it was himself that sort of sparked the tussle, but it was obvious the object wasn’t that compelled to harm him.
He paced around, grumbling too softly for the intruder to hear. He could go back to camp right now and forget about this; he’d just let everyone know that there was a stubborn pile of snow lost near their border.
Mudclaw looked up and saw it rub at the gash again. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Snowball.”
The deputy twitched his whiskers a bit. It was... very fitting with what he looked like. “Mudclaw,” he meowed, quickly introducing yourself. “If you’re lost and only waiting for your team to come back...” His paws felt like they were being prickled with thorns. He wasn’t entirely keen of this idea but if he didn’t address it now then it’d come for him later down the line. “...You can stay back at camp so long as you don’t cause any trouble for us because we will chase you at faster than you may realize.”
The words left a sour taste in his mouth. Funny how he thought Onewhisker was becoming a bit too friendly with ThunderClan yet here he was, inviting some stranger to stay at camp. But the novelty of the situation got to him; he had never seen something like Snowball before. A Twoleg never understood any of them but what made Snowball special enough to be able to do so? Why didn’t he look like a Twoleg apart from the limbs?
“Someone can take a look at that gash,” continued Mudclaw. “Then you won’t be so uncomfortable, but sure, feel free to hang out alone.” His rabbit had gone cold for sure so he wanted to get back to camp before it grew too stiff to be comfortably eaten. The dark brown tom went to grab his catch and turned away from the object, not caring to see if he followed or not.
Though that strange scent lingered and the ground trembled gently as Mudclaw headed back to camp.