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Chapter Text

A scream of pain splits the air, reverberating in Perchpaw’s chest. His chest is tight, his body frozen, his eyes wild and sharp with brimming tears. In the grass before him, blood pools, its scent raising the hairs on Perchpaw’s neck. Silence follows the cry, the beat of stillness before lightning cracks.

Through blurring vision, Perchpaw sees Reedshine sink to the ground. She lets out a sob, distant to Perchpaw’s ears. It’s muffled by his rapid gasping for air. The desperate pulsing of his heart. The sound it makes when it’s broken.

He watches as Mapleshade looks down at her bloodstained claws. She looks as shocked as everyone else. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Appledusk’s glassy eyes stare back at her, the horror replaced by cold nothing. Perchpaw just starts to think she might be feeling remorse, until her shock is replaced by a sick, twisted delight. She swipes her claws across Appledusk’s limp head, batting him away like a ball of moss. More blood spatters the grass like rain. The whites of Mapleshade’s eyes are showing as she turns her head to Reedshine.

It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have been so stupid- He should’ve fought harder-

He was going to make him proud today. Appledusk was upset, he was stressed about his mate, stressed about his kits – past and future. The least Perchpaw could do was give him one less thing to worry about.

But he had to go and goof around. He had to let down his guard. The tears finally broke, flowing warm and hot down Perchpaw’s cheeks. Mapleshade caught him, used him as bait. Perchpaw fought, but… there was that little bit more he could’ve done.

And now his mentor is dead.

Appledusk’s dead eyed stare is so unfamiliar, so wrong. Nothing like the warmth they once held. Perchpaw teeters as the memory hits him like a gust of wind, curling around him in comfort yet still chilling him to his bones; he’s touching his nose to Appledusk’s for the first time. Darkstar is sitting above them, her voice surrounding the camp. Reedshine is looking on with pride in her mate. The teasing voices of the older apprentices are still there, but Perchpaw can hardly hear them. Actually, he finds himself actively tuning them out as the days go by.

Because to Appledusk, Perchpaw was never a stupid kit. He was never a scrap of fur spit out by the river. He was never an unwanted orphan. Never an overweight burden, never a burden at all. He was a hard worker. A fighter. RiverClan’s finest.

Perchpaw’s shock and sorrow form something brittle and angry. His claws unsheathe. He turns and rounds on Mapleshade, who hisses threats into Reedshine’s shattered face. The broken fluttering of his heart starts to mend, and it pumps with newfound certainty. Red flashes across his vision.

Tearing at the grass, Perchpaw surges forward. A yowl escapes his choked throat before he can stop it. He clears the space between him and Mapleshade in only a few bounds. Just barely sees the flash of her amber eyes before he’s on her shoulders, his jaws sinking deep into her neck.

Even if it’s too late, Perchpaw will make him proud.

Chapter Text

“Where are we going?”

Volepaw’s voice is small, aligning with his tiny frame. Clawface bites back a sharp retort, and he’s just the tiniest bit grateful to Runningnose for piping up instead.

“We’re taking you to Nightpelt.” The snot-ridden medicine cat may be the bane of Clawface’s existence, but he could be occasionally helpful.

Volepaw quickens his pace, limping up to Clawface’s side. His yellow eyes are wide. “Why?” Clawface can’t help but notice the kitten fluff still lining his face. 

With a low growl, Clawface speeds up. He has no clue why Runningnose thought this was a good idea, and he has no clue why he agreed to it. Volepaw was Brokenstar’s apprentice, and one of his least favorites, too; if the brutal leader found out Clawface helped rescue him from certain death, he would add a few more scars to Clawface’s already-mangled muzzle.

Volepaw is persistent. He limps forwards again, his ears pinned back but his jaw set. “Why?” he repeats, more fiercely this time.

Clawface casts a withering glance over his shoulder. “Because Brokenstar would kill you if he knew you were still alive,” he hissed. “Now shut your muzzle, before Brokenstar becomes the least of your problems.” Runningnose gives a disdainful sniff, but Clawface ignores him.

Volepaw stops in his tracks. “W- Would he?” The tremor of fear in his voice seems to tweak something in Clawface’s cold, dead heart. Maybe that was why he decided this kit was worth saving.

The three cats continue on in silence. After a while, Volepaw pipes up again. “Clawface?” he asks. “Am I… Am I useless now?” His injured leg is raised slightly off the ground.

Clawface stops, glancing at Runningnose. The medicine cat continues walking without acknowledging the kit’s question, and Clawface wants to take back all the non-horrible things he’s ever thought about him. Volepaw is still watching him expectantly.

Clawface could say yes. He could give this kid one more swipe to the heart before sending him away. Maybe that would teach him to fear ShadowClan as he should.

“My brother will find some use for you,” Clawface says after a moment. “He always does.”

Volepaw stares at him. Clawface has no idea if his words comforted him or not. He tells himself that he doesn’t care — or, at the very least, he shouldn’t.

When Nightpelt emerges from his place in exile and embraces an ecstatic Volepaw, Clawface tries not to make eye contact with his brother. As he and Runningnose head back towards camp, Clawface finds himself glad that Volepaw’s gone.

Chapter Text

Leopardstar’s den stands imposing in front of Stormpaw, a dark cloud shielding the sun. He tries to steady his breathing, but it’s a pitiful attempt. He doesn’t want to talk about it. No one does.

But the alternative is worse. Stormpaw uses that to ease his mind a little as he pushes his way inside.

Leopardstar is the only cat there, of course. Her face is impossible to read, her amber eyes narrowed into chips – not necessarily unfriendly, but they unnerve Stormpaw all the same.

“Mistyfoot said you wanted to see me.” Leopardstar moves to the side, curling her tail out of the way so Stormpaw can sit.

Stormpaw dips his head; being the clan deputy, and his mentor’s sister, Mistyfoot was the easiest to talk to – other than Featherpaw, his own sister. His stomach swirls with anxiety. Leopardstar brings the opposite of that comfort. But he presses on. “I know my warrior ceremony is coming up soon. Mistyfoot already said I’ve passed my assessment.”

“Indeed,” Leopardstar meows formally. “She’s told me as much. You are more than ready to become a warrior, in her eyes and mine.”

Unsurprisingly, his leader’s praise does nothing to awaken any pride in Stormpaw’s heart. He continues, “I wanted to make a request. To choose my full name.”

Leopardstar cocks her head slightly. She doesn’t speak, and the silence in the den is deafening. Stormpaw takes a deep breath and blurts out, “Stormfur.”

At that, Leopardstar’s eyes go wide. She still doesn’t speak. Stormpaw waits, and then adds, “After Stonefur.”

“Yes.” Leopardstar cuts him off sharply, turning her head. Her golden fur bristles along her spine. Stormpaw knows what she can see; Tigerstar, sitting proud atop his pile of death. His order rings out, clear as day, and he points directly at Stormpaw and Featherpaw. Stormpaw can feel the paralyzing terror. He remembers it like he remembers his own name.

Kill them. Tigerstar’s voice rings in Stormpaw’s ears, so vivid he almost expects to see him here, in Leopardstar’s den. Kill them both. And when Stonefur turns to look into his eyes, for a split second, Stormpaw thinks he might.

Leopardstar clears her throat, tearing Stormpaw back to the present. “Yes, I know.” Her voice is softer now, maybe a little scared. “Stormfur suits you well.” She pauses again. “That- That was part of my name, too. Leopardfur.” She seems terrified to meet Stormpaw’s eyes, but she does. “Does that change anything?”

Stormpaw stares back. He isn’t sure what he feels; anger, shock, maybe betrayal. But he knows what he can see. Stonefur standing protectively in front of him and his sister. The brief surge of hope Stormpaw feels before it’s quickly squandered. Stonefur disappearing beneath Darkstripe and Blackfoot’s hissing forms. Stormpaw pleading silently to his leader. Leopardstar perched at Tigerstar’s side. If there’s guilt in her eyes, there isn’t enough.

“I don’t care.” Stormpaw is aware of the harshness in his voice, but Leopardstar, to her credit, doesn’t flinch. She was expecting that. “I take my name in Stonefur’s memory, and Stonefur’s alone. I refuse to let the clan forget him.”

Their eyes lock. Leopardstar is unflinching at his words, and Stormpaw wonders briefly what’s going through her mind. Finally, she dips her head. “Stonefur raised a fine young cat,” she says. “He deserved far better.”

As he turns to leave, Stormpaw casts a glance over his shoulder. Leopardstar’s face is still hard to pick apart. Stormpaw likes to think he saw a bit of remorse. He doesn’t question her; he nods curtly.

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Echosnout sits with her tail curled around her haunches as a white-furred warrior paces aggressively in front of her. The warrior’s yellow eyes are fixed harshly on the ground, her ears are pinned back, and she mumbles occasionally to herself. Some of her stress rubs off on Echosnout, and the medicine cat begins to tap her tail against the ground.

“I should’ve never agreed to this!” The warrior’s voice pitches with anxiety. “I- I don’t know the first thing about herbs!”

Echosnout tilts her head. “Then why did you offer to help them, Cloudberry?” Her voice is gentle, not accusatory.

The warrior, Cloudberry, stops pacing and shakes her head. Her eyes shut tightly. “Well- You heard how desperate Oakstar sounded. He’s lost both his kits and his medicine cat, so I just thought- I thought I should make things easier.”

Echosnout only knew Cloudberry in passing, but based on her minimal, preconceived knowledge of her, she isn’t surprised by her answer. Cloudberry always was selfless, sometimes jumping to help others before really considering herself. Echosnout can already smell the ThunderClan scent on Cloudberry’s pelt; she’s spent so much time in her new clan already. So much, in fact, that Echosnout hasn’t seen her since she chose to leave RiverClan. Her visit this morning was a shock, certainly, but seeing as she’s still a familiar face, Darkstar let her into camp.

And it’s a good thing she did. Echosnout isn’t sure how Cloudberry would’ve dealt with alienation from both her old and new clan.

Cloudberry opens her eyes again. She whips to her paws and continues to pace, her tail lashing more vigorously now. “I’m going to let them down, Echosnout! Oakstar and Beetail and Bloomheart and Doefeather… and Ravenwing, too, even if he isn’t exactly here.” When she turns back to Echosnout, her eyes glisten with tears. “I can’t do it, I- I can’t do any of it! ThunderClan’s already lost one medicine cat, and now they’re going to end up with an incompetent one. Everything’s falling apart, and it’s all my-”

“Cloudberry.” Echosnout raises her voice, switching to her stern medicine-cat tone. Cloudberry stops abruptly. She still looks like a terrified, lost kit. Echosnout lets her face soften before placing a paw on Cloudberry’s shoulder. “I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you everything I know, about herbs, about StarClan… Whatever it is you need.”

Cloudberry blinks in shock. She opens her jaw cautiously as if to thank Echosnout before quickly shutting it again. “No- No. I appreciate the offer, Echosnout, but I can’t. I’m a ThunderClan cat now. I’ve offered to help them, and I will. I- I wouldn’t want to waste your time.” She tries to shift away and leave, but Echosnout keeps her paw planted firmly on Cloudberry’s shoulder.

“Cloudberry.” Echosnout talks sternly again, but it’s more sympathetic this time. “No matter where you go, you will always deserve the love and support of RiverClan. You’re incredibly brave for putting yourself out there to help cats who need you, the mark of an excellent medicine cat already. I, for one, am very proud of you.” Cloudberry’s tears start to return at the praise, and Echosnout smiles. “But you have to understand that you’re not alone here. All medicine cats lean on each other – not just the brand new ones.” Echosnout leaned forward and liked the top of Cloudberry’s head. “Will you let me teach you?”

Once she leans back, Cloudberry is nodding slowly. “I- Yes. Whatever you’re willing to teach, I’ll learn.”

Echosnout lets out a purr. “‘Whatever I’m willing,’ hmm?” She gathers some of her herbs close with a sweep of her forepaw. “You might want to get comfortable, because you’re going to be here awhile.”

Cloudberry smiles, settling next to Echosnout as she starts to explain the uses of basic herbs. With each new leaf that Echosnout describes, she sees in Cloudberry’s eyes the excitement of a new apprentice; of her new apprentice.

Chapter Text

No mentor wants to outlive their apprentice. Especially when said apprentice is still a ‘paw.

But Longtail, with a stabbing feeling in his chest, realizes that’s just what he’s done.

When Brightpaw and Swiftpaw went missing, and Fernpaw admitted that they’d gone to find the prey-stealers in the territory, Longtail still had faith. Swiftpaw was a strong fighter. Longtail taught him everything he knew. The black-and-white apprentice was cunning and light on his feet, capable of matching and surpassing warriors many times his size. If it was rogues they were dealing with, Swiftpaw would beat them. He had to.

Except, it hadn’t been rogues. What felt like moons after the attack, Brightpaw came to. In a quiet, quivering voice, she recalled the massive hounds, their savage nature so far removed from the soft and silly nuisances that Twolegs had. Longtail was there, listening with his heart in his throat.

Pack pack, kill kill. When he remembered the first of the last times he’d seen Swiftpaw — his blood spilt over the rocks, his throat all but torn from his body, his jaws open in a silent yowl — Longtail didn’t find it hard to believe.

Well, not in that sense. It was still so surreal that some mornings, Longtail almost called Swiftpaw for training, before the realization hit him, like Swiftpaw was dying all over again.

Because it was over. There would be no more training sessions with Swiftpaw. No more successful hunts, no more un successful hunts, for that matter. No helping him improve, no gentle encouragement, no worrying about him during the border patrols.

Swiftpaw was gone.

It hit Longtail harder than anything. Before, he’d been going through a lot. Tigerclaw and Darkstripe were both gone. Longtail’s clanmates didn’t trust him. But Swiftpaw did. At least Longtail always had Swiftpaw by his side, even if no one else was.

But where did that leave Longtail now?

The grief was setting in. It started out numb, but slowly… it became something empty and cold. Longtail didn’t patrol very much anymore. Why would he? It wasn’t like he had an apprentice to train.

Longtail spent almost all of his time now at Swiftpaw’s final resting place. He slipped out of camp early in the morning, before the sun or the warriors rose. Mousefur, who was sitting at the gorse tunnel and guarding camp, watched him go in silence, without so much as a nod, nor a tilt of her head. Longtail wondered if perhaps she understood.

Longtail picked his way through the undergrowth. The fading light of the moon wasn’t enough to see where exactly he was going, but Longtail knew this path by heart. And, faintly, he could smell the yellow flowers that grew there — a valiant yellow, like Swiftpaw’s eyes.

The grave was marked by a small ring of stones, chosen and placed carefully by the elders after Swiftpaw’s vigil. Inside the ring, the dirt was dark and recently disturbed, though the surrounding grasses were starting to make their way through. Longtail crouched and pressed his nose to the damp earth; for one reason or another, that thought unnerved him.

A gentle cough made Longtail twitch. He turned and looked up to see Fireheart, his orange pelt illuminated by the now dawning sky above. Longtail wasn’t sure whether to growl or not; they were definitely not friends , but he had cried on the deputy’s shoulder before — before Brightpaw woke up, before they really knew the full story, when everything was so uncertain and overwhelming. Longtail used to hate Fireheart, but he couldn’t bring himself to today. His voice was dry when he spoke.

“What?” Longtail rasped.

Fireheart blinked. “I- I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said. There was pity in his green gaze, and Longtail wished there wasn’t. “I just thought there was something you should know. L- Brightpaw was talking to me and Cinderheart.” He stammered over the cruel name that Bluestar had given Brightpaw, ultimately deciding not to use it. “You left before you could hear it.”

Longtail gave a long sigh, turning back to the grave. The fresh earth blurred as his eyes brimmed with tears. “If it isn’t going to bring him back, I don’t want to hear it.” Longtail tried to keep his words steady, but they were still tight with grief.

Instead of leaving, Fireheart stepped forward and rested his tail on Longtail’s back. Longtail flinched, but didn’t move away.

“I know,” Fireheart said gently. He too turned his eyes to the circle of stones. “Brightpaw said that Swiftpaw saved her life. That she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” He paused, lifting his head just a bit. “He took after you, that’s all.”

Chapter Text

Fireheart spotted Brackenpaw sitting alone in camp again. He felt his fur curl with frustration – not at Brackenpaw, but at his irresponsible mentor.

Graystripe slipped out to meet Silverstream. He hadn’t told Fireheart, of course, but it wasn’t hard to guess. It showed in Brackenpaw’s lack of proper training.

And in Cinderpaw’s injury. Fireheart narrowed his eyes, a quiet hiss forming in his throat. It’d only been about a moon since his apprentice, Cinderpaw, had been hit by a monster while trying to deliver a message to Tigerclaw. Maybe it was a little unreasonable, but Fireheart couldn’t help but blame Graystripe; he could’ve prevented all of it if Graystripe had been around to gather the catmint for Bluestar.

Fireheart gave himself a shake; there was no point in wallowing right now. He could see from Brackenpaw’s hunched posture and downcast eyes that he was struggling too. A lump formed in Fireheart’s throat; his memories of his siblings were too vague for him to really feel connected to them, but if someone he loved was permanently wounded, he wouldn’t know how he’d cope. It probably didn’t help that Brackenpaw was pretty reserved, only ever hanging out with Cinderpaw; without his sister and his mentor, he was probably feeling isolated, alone.

I know the feeling. Fireheart wondered if it was anything like having a best friend more dedicated to a RiverClan she-cat than his own clan.

With a quiet sigh, Fireheart made his way over. Brackenpaw looked up from the ground as he approached, and his ears pricked slightly.

“Hey Fireheart,” Brackenpaw meowed. His voice sounded heavy and monotone, even for the somewhat aloof tom. Fireheart felt another prickle of worry in his chest. He tried to smile, and give Brackenpaw a bit of reassurance.

“Hey, good morning, Brackenpaw!” Fireheart chirped, trying to sound cheerful. “I thought I’d come and get you for some hunting practice.”

Brackenpaw’s eyes lit up, and he practically flew to his paws. Fireheart chuckled softly. “Great!” Brackenpaw purred, his tail raising and curling over his back. “Is Graystripe coming with us?”

Fireheart cringed. “Err- No, not this time.” He felt a stab of guilt, which only grew as Brackenpaw’s face fell.

“Oh.” Brackenpaw’s ears drooped. He blinked furiously a couple of times, focusing hard on the ground in front of him. After a moment, he looked up again. “Fireheart?” he asked, a small quiver in his voice. “Graystripe hasn’t forgotten about me, has he?”

“No- No! No, of course not, Brackenpaw!” Fireheart explained hurriedly. “Graystripe’s just… got a lot going on in his life right now.” He didn’t want to lie to the apprentice, but he couldn’t expose his friend’s secret either. StarClan’s sake, Graystripe, I love you, but sometimes you make my life needlessly difficult. Fireheart paused, struggling to change the subject. “And- I think he’ll be back later to work on your training.” Not necessarily the truth, but not quite a lie either. If Fireheart tried hard enough, he could convince Graystripe to make it true. “I just thought… Well, you didn’t seem busy, and I don’t have anyone else to train…” He cast a forlorn glance at the medicine den.

Brackenpaw followed his gaze, sorrow creeping onto his face. He nodded slowly. “Yeah… I miss her too. Well- I don’t exactly miss her, because she’s still alive, thank StarClan, it’s just… It’s different now.” He got to his paws, and this time, his smile was genuine. “Hunting training sounds good. Maybe it’ll take our minds off of things, huh?” His smile got a little sad for a moment, before Brackenpaw seemed to forcefully brighten himself up again. “Thanks for offering to take me.”

Fireheart returned his smile as Brackenpaw padded to his side. While he may not be as energetic as his sister, he could see quite a bit of Cinderpaw in him. He was glad to help with his training with Graystripe was away, even if Brackenpaw was right, and things weren’t quite the same.

“No problem, kid.”

Chapter Text

The world flashed with orange light as the flames grew higher and higher. Up above them, tendrils of smoke circled the trees as if taunting the scorched, blackened trunks that the fire had caused. Lionblaze crouched and trembled below. At his left, Jayfeather was letting out a low hiss, his nostrils flared as he tried to pick apart scents in the smoky haze. At his right, Hollyleaf was completely rigid, her green eyes fixed directly on the cats in front of them. Both of Lionblaze’s siblings, subconsciously or not, were pressed tightly to their big, golden brother.

Lionblaze thought he should move, that he should be protecting them somehow. But he could hardly register what he was seeing — Squirrelflight, his mother, and Ashfur, his mentor — and what they had to say.

Ashfur’s blue eyes burned as brightly as the fire around him, their glow flickering in exact time. Clutched so tightly in his jaws that Lionblaze thought it might break, a burning branch. With a snarl, Ashfur flung the branch deep into the wall of flame, adding to the fire Lionblaze was starting to think he’d caused.

Ashfur taught him all about fire — in more of a metaphorical sense. “‘Fire alone will save our clan,’” Ashfur had said to an overexcited little Lionpaw. He’d been a bit of a troublemaker back then — it was almost impossible to keep Lionpaw from wrestling with Hollypaw or bickering with Berrypaw — but this time, his attention was held with ease.

Ashfur went on, “That’s the prophecy that brought your grandfather here. He’d been a part of the clan for a few moons already when I was born, but I heard the stories as I’m sure you have: how he gave Longtail his scar, how he rescued kits from ShadowClan… all of it. I remember the story of how he defeated BloodClan like I was there.” He tapped his chin, then flashed a brief, playful smile. “Oh, that’s right — I was.”

Lionpaw watched him in wide-eyed, uncharacteristic silence. He had heard those valiant stories of events long past, and hearing that his mentor had actually partaken in them, well… It made him see Ashfur in a whole new light.

“Your grandfather is an incredible cat,” Ashfur said after a moment. “You should be very proud of where you come from, Lionpaw. I see a lot of his courage and spirit in you.” He paused. “Squirrelflight, too.”

Ashfur didn’t speak after that, and as Brackenfur began to add something about his connection to Firestar, neither did Lionpaw. Lionblaze wondered now if Ashfur’s comment about Squirrelflight meant anything, and in hindsight he thought he remembered a bit of bitterness on the gray cat’s tone.

That wouldn’t surprise him, with what was happening now, but… it still made Lionblaze’s blood run cold.

“I’m going to kill them.” Ashfur’s voice echoed in Lionblaze’s head, burning right through it like fire. Lionblaze could see Ashfur’s mouth moving, and he could feel his siblings tense around him, but somehow the sound still seemed distant. “Then you’ll feel the same pain you caused me.”

Lionblaze’s throat felt dry, not just from the smoke. Because this wasn’t Ashfur. Sure, they’d had their disagreements, but every mentor and apprentice did. What happened to the cat who showed him around the territory, who cautioned him on the dangers of the Thunderpath? Who taught him to stand up to himself when Berrypaw was bothering him? Who urged him to be courageous and fearless in battle?

And what about the little things that didn’t have to do with training? Like when he was struggling with his feelings for Cinderpaw? “Oh, talk to Ferncloud, she’ll understand,” he’d said. “She’s really helpful when it comes to that stuff.”

So then why didn’t Ashfur talk to Ferncloud?

The quarrels, the fights, the anger, the blood drawn after someone fought too harshly… Those memories were there, but they’d always been distant. When Ashfur hurt him, Lionblaze just brushed it off.

Now, he wondered if he should’ve paid more attention.

Chapter Text

Pawsteps sounded at the entrance to the elders’ den, and Stonepelt lifted his head. If he were any other elder, he might’ve complained about being woken up, yet he hadn’t been sleeping; he hadn’t been sleeping well for a while, in fact, his thoughts too consumed by the battle at WindClan. Besides, he wasn’t upset; this was someone he wanted to see.

Bluepaw shuffled inside, her jaws full of fresh moss. With a grunt, she set the bundle down and picked out a stray root, avoiding Stonepelt’s gaze all the while.

Stonepelt purred, glad to have a chance to talk to her one-on-one; the other elders were out enjoying the last of the good leaf-fall weather. The only reason he wasn’t doing so himself was because he could hardly walk, but maybe right now that was StarClan’s blessing instead of their curse. “Bluepaw, it’s good to see you.” He peered at the moss she was sorting through, watching her with pride. “You’re still excellent at gathering moss, I see.”

Bluepaw huffed, her lip curling bitterly. “Thanks,” she said. “I was taught by the best.”

It seemed like a compliment, but it didn’t quite sound like one. As Stonepelt moved so Bluepaw could gather his old bedding, he asked, “Is this about Sunfall? Do you not like him?”

Bluepaw paused in her nest-building. She glanced directly at Stonepelt’s wounded shoulder, her ears flattening. Holding back a sigh, Stonepelt turned to look; his shoulder was covered in cobwebs and smelled of herbs he couldn’t name, but the beginnings of a scar were starting to peek through. He remembered Featherwhisker’s devastating news; the injury wasn’t going to heal properly, he was going to have to retire early. Since that attack on WindClan, Stonepelt had been rendered practically useless. He couldn’t hunt, couldn’t fight, could hardly move. Which meant he wouldn’t be able to train his apprentice anymore.

“Sunfall’s fine,” Bluepaw mumbled at last. She kept her eyes on the ground, but Stonepelt saw her tail twitch. “It’s Goosefeather’s stupid fault, anyway. We never should’ve gone to WindClan camp. Moon-” She opened her mouth, but then stopped, choked, and shut her eyes.

Stonepelt edged forward, his wound hissing in protest, and rested a paw on Bluepaw’s shoulder. Bluepaw looked at him in surprise, rapidly blinking away tears. Though Stonepelt was no longer her mentor, in a way, he still was. “Bluepaw,” he began gently, “do you remember one of the first things I taught you?”

Bluepaw sniffled. “Don’t poke around in the warriors’ den?”

Stonepelt laughed loudly for the first time since the attack. “Well, that is a rather important one,” he purred. “But I’m talking about patience.”

“Patience?” Bluepaw tilted her head, confused.

Stonepelt dipped his head. “I know you don’t want this, and neither do I. Trust me, if I could change things, I would, and I’m sure you would, too.” He moved forward a bit more, wrapping his good arm around Bluepaw in a half-embrace. Bluepaw leaned against him as he continued, “But we can’t change the past. You need to believe that, in time, you’ll be as close with Sunfall as you are with me.”

Bluepaw narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Stonepelt purred again. “Patience, young Bluepaw. Things will change with time. Maybe try talking with him about the attack. He was close with Moonflower; I’m sure he understands what you’re going through.”

Bluepaw stepped away, wiping the tears off her face with the back of her paw. She cast Stonepelt a sad but now sort of eased smile. “Thanks, Stonepelt.” She paused. “I- I’ll do my best.”

As she gathered up his old bedding and turned to go, Stonepelt smiled. “You always do, Bluepaw,” he whispered.

~ 🏵 🏶 🏵 ~

“What are you going to name them?” Stonepelt asked, signaling to the three tiny bundles at Bluefur’s side. Behind him, Sunstar was watching silently, the same amount of pride shining in his eyes as he awaited her reply.

Bluefur rasped her tongue over the only little tom-kit in the group. He mewled, wriggling in protest. Bluefur’s smile was both loving and sorrowful, for reasons Stonepelt didn’t know. “I was… I was thinking maybe Stonekit for this one.”

Stonepelt’s ears pricked, and he blinked in surprise. “Stonekit?” he asked, genuinely shocked. Joy rising in his heart, he leaned down to see the kits a bit closer. Stonekit. He could hardly believe it; it was more than an honor to have one of Bluefur’s kits named after him. He glanced cheekily back at Sunstar. “Not ‘Sunkit?’”

Sunstar snorted lightheartedly, but it was Bluefur who replied. “Of course not,” she said. “The sun isn’t gray.”

This time, all three cats laughed. Stonepelt met Bluefur’s gaze, and saw some of her sadness had abated. She dipped her head, mouthing a silent thank you. Stonepelt, a purr rising in his throat, whispered a wordless thank you right back.

Chapter Text

What am I doing?

Crowfeather crouched in the long grass, just a few fox-lengths from the entrance to the Moonpool. His ears are pricked, his tail is twitching behind him. He’s anxious, he’s nervous, but he’s sure he’s making the right choice.

Right?

In the still, quiet night, Crowfeather will have no trouble hearing Leafpool’s pawsteps. The moon above will reveal her tabby fur, her amber eyes. If Crowfeather closed his eyes, he could practically see it – Leafpool, stepping towards him, her white patches glowing brightly in the faded light.

After that, there was no turning back. He was officially a loner. A self-proclaimed outcast.

He dug his claws into the dirt. He didn’t care what WindClan would think of him for leaving. His mother was dead, long dead. There was no one back home to be disappointed in him.

Perhaps Mudclaw would be looking down from StarClan – if he even made it that far. Crowfeather scoffed; Mudclaw didn’t deserve to hate him for betraying his clan.

When he was younger, Crowpaw wanted nothing more than to be like him. Strong, bold, angry in a way that demanded respect. Looking back, it made sense; Mudclaw was like the father he never had.

Pretty shit father, Crowfeather thought with a snort. His admiration for his mentor didn’t last long after he left for the journey. Mudclaw used to drill into his head that WindClan was superior. They didn’t need help from anyone else, especially not soft-hearted ThunderClan weasels. Crowpaw had picked up on this hostility quickly, first on border patrols, and then on the six’s journey to the Sundrown Place.

The journey rocked his entire worldview. He started out hating the other cats, but soon… soon he depended on them. They depended on him right back. And Feathertail… He could feel his heart ache just with the thought of her. Crowfeather never, in a thousand moons, expected to actually love a cat outside of WindClan.

(Let alone two.)

Crowfeather respected his companions on the journey. He stood with Brambleclaw when Mudclaw accused him of lying. He could still remember the rage burning in Mudclaw’s eyes when his apprentice sided with ThunderClan.

And that was fine. Crowfeather had grown to realize that Mudclaw’s way of thinking was wrong. Let him stay weak, bitter, grasping at air. Crowfeather didn’t need to be like him anymore.

So it was shocking when Mudclaw – Mudclaw, of all cats – was found guilty of conspiring with a RiverClan cat to try and overthrow Onestar. Maybe that’s what finally pushed Crowfeather over the edge.

He glanced up at the stars, wondering again if Mudclaw was among them. His tail lashed. It was pitifully ironic; he went from wanting to be just like his mentor, to believing they were different, to becoming the same again.

Perhaps that meant Mudclaw was proud of him. We can be traitors to WindClan together, Crowfeather thought bitterly. At least I’m not attempting any murder to do it.

The bushes rustled. Crowfeather tensed. His heart softened when Leafpool stepped through, her steps soft, guilty. Their eyes met, and Crowfeather could sense her fear and joy and uncertainty all muddled together. Wordlessly, he stepped forward and embraced her, the smell of herbs wrapping around him, the wind tugging at his pelt. In that instant, he knew he made the right choice; he would leave his clan, and never look back.

Because, honestly, who was he looking back at?

Chapter Text

Mistyfoot is chosen to patrol with the journeying cats, chosen to scope out new territory for RiverClan.

It makes sense. She’s the deputy. Leopardstar trusts her to make the right choice.

So Mistyfoot holds her head high, tries to look composed, tries not to think about the two RiverClan cats who should be among them.

Stormfur said he’s happy, and Mistyfoot believes him. Apparently, he felt more at home in the Tribe than he ever did in RiverClan. He had his new mate – Brook, she’s pretty sure. Mistyfoot feels at peace, knowing he has a new group of cats looking after him, one that won’t judge him for his half-clan heritage.

But Feathertail… Oh, Feathertail.

Mistyfoot hardly speaks as they travel deeper into the new lake territory. The four cats ahead of her – Brambleclaw, Crowfeather, Tawnypelt, Squirrelflight – are all talking with ease, excited about being the first to uncover these new lands. Mistyfoot can’t share their enthusiasm; she’s acutely aware that she doesn’t belong here. That Feathertail should be in her place instead.

The last time she saw her apprentice had been… moons ago. It felt like just yesterday that Mistyfoot was patrolling the RiverClan border, worried out of her mind. She remembered asking Leafpaw and her clanmate if they’d seen Feathertail recently. For days, Mistyfoot had been restless, juggling her role as deputy with the gnawing fear that something horrible had happened to her.

She dreamed a lot during those days. Her brother Stonefur almost haunted her with his death; Mistyfoot awoke smelling blood when the sun rose. She remembered fleeing the overrun RiverClan camp with the two apprentices at her side, comforting Featherpaw in the days that passed. The ThunderClan cats insisted that they were going to take care of them, but the only thing that soothed Featherpaw was Mistyfoot by her side.

And then, as a warrior, Mistyfoot could tell that Feathertail was struggling. She could see the anger burning in her blue eyes every time Leopardstar walked past. But, in time, Feathertail found her footing. Mistyfoot was naive enough to believe that the worst of it was over.

The time after Feathertail’s disappearance passed in a blur. Mistyfoot had been kidnapped by Twolegs, nearly replaced as deputy, and all four clans had been displaced from their homes. Mistyfoot had the audacity to forget about Feathertail for a while.

So when the news came, Mistyfoot felt hollow. It didn’t quite feel real. She hadn’t seen Feathertail in a while, but part of her knew she would see her again soon. It was jarring to discover that she was wrong.

And she didn’t even get to say goodbye.

She had to hold her head high. For the clan. It hurt losing her apprentice, her best friend’s kit, a cat who is in many ways her own daughter, but she was over it. That’s the face she presented to the clan. A strong, collected deputy. Someone to rely on. Someone who was going to get them out of this mess. Return things to normal.

Without Feathertail, things would never be normal. When Mistyfoot was alone, that face fell. Her tears flowed like a river, stretching back to the last time they spoke. Mistyfoot wanted to claw herself for not taking it more seriously in the moment; she couldn’t remember for the life of her what they’d talked about. Feathertail was there, and then she simply was not.

She had to hold her head high. So Mistyfoot took charge on the expedition, letting herself fall so easily into that deputy role. And when she finds the piece of land tucked safely between two streams, she knows her mission’s been fulfilled.

“We should head back,” she says. Her voice still has a hollow ring to it – not that the others will notice. To them, Mistyfoot is the wise, calm deputy, just as she is to her clanmates. “Leopardstar will want to hear about this. It would make an excellent camp for RiverClan.”

Tawnypelt flattens her ears and hisses. Out of all the cats who went on the journey, she seems the least eager to include Mistyfoot. In many ways, she reminds Mistyfoot of Feathertail – or maybe that’s her grief speaking. “We can’t turn back before we find a place for the other clans. I doubt Blackstar will be pleased if ShadowClan has nowhere to go.” She lashed her tail threateningly.

Mistyfoot stares wistfully at the streams. They offer great protection from enemies, even ones as terrifying as the legendary Sharptooth. She sinks her claws into the dirt.

I just want my clan to be safe. We can’t- We can’t lose anyone else like that. Never again.

Chapter Text

“Firestar, a word?” Dustpelt wove his way through the dissipating crowd of cats, his fur prickling slightly with nerves. In front of him, ThunderClan’s ginger-pelted leader was hopping down from the Highrock, and he approached Dustpelt with a curious look in his green eyes. Behind him, Dustpelt could hear the excited chattering of a similarly fiery apprentice.

His fiery apprentice.

“Everything alright, Dustpelt?” Firestar stood tall, his voice calm and serious. It was odd for Dustpelt to remember spitting insults at the exact same tom, Sandstorm at his side – something he wouldn’t dream of doing now.

But even if Dustpelt respected Firestar after everything ThunderClan had been through, he didn’t consider him to be his friend, really. More of an acquaintance in passing, a capable leader, an equal. And as far as he understood, Firestar thought the same of him. So-

“I- I must say I’m a bit confused,” Dustpelt said. He shifted his weight anxiously as he tried to read Firestar’s gaze.

“About your sudden mentorship?” Firestar blinked a few times. “I’m sorry for springing that on you without discussing it first; I just didn’t get a chance to talk with you. If it’s an issue, that’s no problem at all, I’m sure I can reassign her a different-”

“No- No. It’s not that,” Dustpelt cut him off. “I’m perfectly alright mentoring an apprentice. I’m just a little confused as to why I was chosen.”

Firestar shrugged. “You’re a perfectly capable warrior, Dustpelt. One of the most capable in the clan, as I’m sure any cat would say. If it’s something you think you can take on, then you’re more than ready to.”

He turned, about to leave, but Dustpelt stopped him, stepping into his path. Firestar tilted his head. Dustpelt shook his head. “I agree with you there. I think I’m ready to be a mentor, I just- your daughter’s mentor? I know we’re not really at odds anymore, but…” Do you really trust me that much? “Why not someone you’re closer with, like Graystripe?”

Firestar chuckled. “Graystripe is wonderful, but he’s got a lot to deal with, being deputy and all. Besides, Squirrelpaw is a pawful, and Graystripe isn’t the kind of cat who can keep her in line. I need someone levelheaded and serious, so she stays out of trouble.” He dipped his head to Dustpelt, still smiling. “And, more importantly, so she stays safe.”

Dustpelt blinked in surprise. This was high praise coming from the clan’s leader, praise that Dustpelt didn’t expect to receive. He glanced back at Squirrelpaw, who was loudly and energetically explaining something to her sister. Firestar seemed to think mentoring Squirrelpaw was going to be a difficult task, and honestly Dustpelt believed it. And Firestar also thought Dustpelt was the right cat for this job, and, well… It made Dustpelt’s heart swell with pride.

He turned back to Firestar and dipped his head in return. “I’ll see to it, Firestar.”

Firestar’s whiskers twitched lightheartedly. “I don’t doubt it. That’s why I picked you!”

While a quiet purr, Firestar bounded away. Dustpelt turned away and padded over to Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw. As soon as Squirrelpaw saw him approaching, she stopped her story and gave him a huge grin. “Dustpelt! Finally!” She hopped to her paws in delight, green eyes wide and shimmering. “So, where we headed first? Personally I think infiltrating ShadowClan is a great idea!”

Dustpelt sighed in amusement. Firestar was right, he thought, stifling a laugh. “Perhaps we should start a little smaller. Come along; we’ll be starting with ThunderClan territory before moving on to infiltration missions.” He began to head for the camp’s entrance, and after a quick goodbye to Leafpaw, Squirrelpaw hurried after him, racing ahead once or twice.

Dustpelt kept a close eye on the ginger she-cat, the weight of his responsibility glowing in his chest. Firestar felt comfortable with giving his former rival the task of training his daughter – his immediate family. It was a show of how much Firestar now respected him, just as Dustpelt had begun to respect Firestar. And Dustpelt wasn’t about to misplace the leader’s trust.

Chapter Text

Brambleclaw figured that if he and Squirrelflight ever had kits, he should be the one to tell them about their grandfather.

He hadn’t seen the hulking tabby in many moons – not face-to-face, at least. Sometimes, he caught sight of Tigerstar staring back at him in the reflection of puddles and lakes, amber eyes scrutinizing him as he tried to take a peaceful drink. Sometimes, ShadowClan cats at Gatherings – Blackstar, notably – gave him weary looks. Thankfully, the hulking monster of nightmares and elders’ tales no longer prowled his dreams, but Brambleclaw could still feel the sting of his influence, like an old, itchy wound.

Despite the shadow of his father following in his pawsteps, Firestar had entrusted Brambleclaw with an apprentice. Brambleclaw was grateful for the opportunity to teach a young cat his skills, even if Berrypaw got on his – and many of his clanmates’ – nerves. Brambleclaw wondered if Berrypaw’s bloodline, his history being born an outsider, gave him a sense of arrogance, a need to prove himself twice as mighty as his denmates. It was a familiar line of thinking to Brambleclaw, one that concerned him just a little.

Thoughts like this patrolled his mind diligently as Brambleclaw sat with Dustpelt and Spiderleg. The three mentors had decided to take their apprentices out for a little sparring session, which was going… relatively alright. Now that he was paying close attention, Brambleclaw noticed the way Berrypaw tousled, and the way he spoke of his victories over his siblings.

Mousepaw let out a disgruntled wail, hopping about on three paws. “Oww, Berrypaw! Timeout!” He waved his wounded paw in the air dramatically, and Brambleclaw could see the thorn lodged in his pad.

Berrypaw rolled his eyes, unfazed by his brother’s injured state. “Tch, come on, Mouse-heart!” he sneered, tossing his head haughtily. “When’s the last time a ShadowClan warrior let you call ‘timeout’ just ‘cause you stepped on a thorn?” He swiped his paws mercilessly, batting Mousepaw across the muzzle as the gray-and-white tom struggled to keep upright.

Beside Brambleclaw, Spiderleg opened his mouth and then closed it again, the younger warrior clearly unsure about speaking up. So Brambleclaw decided that now was a good time to step in. “Alright, break it up, you two,” he said, rising to his paws and striding confidently between the two brothers. Hazelpaw darted around him to peer at Mousepaw’s injury, but Dustpelt quickly shooed her away.

Berrypaw looked like he wanted to lunge again despite Brambleclaw’s intervention. His fluffy cream fur stuck out at all angles, making him look like an indignant dandelion. “StarClan damn it!” he yowled, his voice squeaking as he raised it. “What was that for? I was just about to shred him to bits!”

Brambleclaw couldn’t help the way his ear flicked, even as he tried to remain stoic and calm. “Berrypaw, watch your tone,” he said. His voice must’ve come out a little colder than anticipated, because Berrypaw’s scowl deepened. “Such language isn’t necessary. And this is a sparring match, not a fight to the death.”

Berrypaw grumbled something under his breath, his little stub-tail twitching in irritation. Brambleclaw could tell his words hadn’t quite gotten through to him; Berrypaw needed a bit more than a simple scolding, it seemed. He dipped his head to the other two mentors and their apprentices. “Keep sparring,” he instructed. “I need a quick word with Berrypaw.”

Immediately, Berrypaw’s face fell. “Aww, what? No fair! I’m the best fighter in the whole clan, maybe the whole lake! Those two fight like kits!” Maybe Berrypaw missed the identical dirty looks that Hazelpaw and Mousepaw shot him, but Brambleclaw didn’t. Quietly, and despite his apprentice’s protests, Brambleclaw whisked Berrypaw away with his tail, leading him towards a more private and quiet section of the forest.

As expected, Berrypaw grumbled and complained with every step.

When Brambleclaw decided they were far enough away, he sat down, anticipating that Berrypaw would do the same – though he wasn’t all that surprised when he didn’t. “I think we need to have a bit of a talk about something,” he said, his tone even and serious.

Berrypaw’s lips drew back in a snarl. “You’re not my mother,” he spat.

“No, but I am your mentor.” Brambleclaw’s tail lashed once before he managed to keep it still. Great StarClan, were all apprentices this stubborn?

Was I? Brambleclaw thought.

He cleared his throat. “I’m concerned about the way you’re treating the other apprentices. And the way you view your training, for that matter. Training with your clanmates requires a great deal of respect that you just aren’t showing.”

Berrypaw huffed. “Respect? Why would I have respect for my opponents? The point is to win, isn’t it? And I’m great at winning! I could beat anyone around the lake if I wanted to!”

Brambleclaw felt a slight sting of familiarity; it seemed that old wound of his was acting up again. He took a deep breath, considering how to word his next question. “Have you heard of Tigerstar, Berrypaw?” he asked.

“Who, that ancient legend from Longtail’s ghost stories? The one who went on a rampage and killed half his clanmates?” Berrypaw snorted in what sounded like disbelief, or maybe that was just his usual gall.

Brambleclaw shook his head. “He’s neither legend nor ancient,” he said. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling drier than before. “He was my father.”

Finally, something Brambleclaw said seemed to get through to the snobby apprentice. Berrypaw’s arrogant expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “He was?” Berrypaw blinked a few times and glanced at the ground, digesting the information. “Longtail never mentioned that.”

Brambleclaw nodded grimly. “I didn’t know him very well. He was exiled from ThunderClan when I was only a kit, so I never really knew him.” Briefly, Brambleclaw’s mind flickered to Berrypaw’s own father, who still lived at the Horseplace. He mentally shook his head, knowing this wasn’t quite the same. “I only really saw the aftermath of his cruelty.”

Berrypaw was watching Brambleclaw intently, giving him more attention than he had for any of their training sessions. “You mean- Tigerstar really killed all those cats?”

Brambleclaw nodded again, a lump in his throat. His mentor had told him of his father’s victims: ThunderClan deputies, apprentices, queens, elders, anyone who stood in his way. He was both ashamed and horrified to be tied by blood to such a disgusting monster; he always prayed to StarClan that he took more after his mother. Before he could choke up the words to continue, Berrypaw spoke up again, his voice small and almost kit-like. “Why- Why are you telling me this?” 

There was something in his trembling voice that told Brambleclaw that he already knew. He felt a stab of guilt; he’d merely meant to teach Berrypaw a lesson, not scare him out of his pelt. Carefully, he stepped up beside Berrypaw and wrapped his tail loosely around his haunches. “There’s nothing wrong with being enthusiastic,” he said gently. “Training can certainly be fun. But there’s something to be said about too much enthusiasm. It can easily lead down a dark path.”

Berrypaw watched him, and for once he seemed to be genuinely taking his mentor’s words into consideration. Brambleclaw felt a burst of pride and admiration and respect for the young tom – a feeling that was common among all mentors, he was sure. 

“I would never hurt innocent cats,” Berrypaw insisted.

“I know,” said Brambleclaw. “You’re a fine young cat, Berrypaw. And a skilled fighter, too. I just want you to be mindful and respectful during training, that’s all.” He let his tail rest lightly on Berrypaw’s back before he stepped away, looking back at his apprentice over his shoulder. “Are you ready to go back?”

Berrypaw, a bit subdued, nodded seriously. He looked more like a warrior already, Brambleclaw realized, feeling that same flash of pride. “Yeah,” said Berrypaw, following in Brambleclaw’s pawsteps. “I think so.”

Chapter Text

Flowerpaw wasn’t sure why she’d done it. Especially considering it amounted to nothing.

But when she saw Birchface tumble backwards into the monstrous, unforgiving current of the river, she knew that he would’ve done the same for her.

Now they were standing on the riverbank, the water lapping at the shore, slipping through their translucent paws. Flowerpaw wasn’t tired anymore, but her chest was still heaving, as if she were still fighting for her life. Just beside the now softened current, she saw her own body draped next to Birchface’s, her fur soaked and tangled up in knots. The silvery spirit of her mentor crouched beside the bodies, his shoulders hunched and his tail curled around himself. Flowerpaw wasn’t sure if she should comfort him or not.

When Birchface finally rose, there were tears rolling down his cheeks like little falling stars. Flowerpaw almost recoiled at the sight, her own eyes starting to sting. Never ever in her life had she seen her mentor look so defeated, so helpless.

Within an instant, Birchface closed the distance between them and gathered Flowerpaw in his arms, hugging her against his chest with his massive paws. Flowerpaw sank into his embrace, her body quivering as a sob pulsed through her. She buried her nose in Birchface’s fur, which was somehow still thick and soft, even in death. His pine tree scent enveloped her, and it was the only thing she could smell in this cold, post-living world.

It felt like moons before Birchface pulled away, his shoulders sagging and his face contorted in pain. “S- StarClan, Flowerpaw… You should’ve- Never should’ve-”

Flowerpaw swallowed back her tears. Her paws felt as heavy as rocks, despite the way she seemed to hover slightly above the ground. “I had to,” she insisted. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t just let you die, Birchface.”

Forlornly, Birchface turned his gaze back towards the bodies laying on the shore, and Flowerpaw could practically hear his unspoken words. She sucked in a shaky breath, more out of habit than necessity now. Despite everything, she didn’t care if it was all for naught, she didn’t care if her efforts had been in vain. She may be dead now, but in her reckless act of attempted heroism, she couldn’t envision herself completing her warrior training without her mentor by her side; she still couldn’t, even now.

“I’m sorry,” Birchface said at last. “I should’ve swam harder or- or something.” He shook his head, blinking furiously, his facial features hardening into a too-stoic stare. It was a familiar look for the esteemed warrior, son of the great and noble Oakstar. Flowerpaw could see right through it after moons of being around him.

“Please- Don’t apologize,” she said, her own voice quivering. “Birchface, you were- you are the best mentor I could’ve ever asked for. I swear I- I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

Well. I would’ve fought harder against the current. Flowerpaw shook her head, chasing those thoughts away. What’s done was done, and it was pointless to linger on her failures, the opportunities she lost.

Birchface scraped at the ground with a forepaw. “I- StarClan damn it, it’s not fair.” It was rare for Flowerpaw’s mentor to curse, especially in front of her. “You’re- You had your whole life still ahead of you. Warriors are meant to give their lives for their clan, and now you’ll never-” He stopped, seemingly too choked to go on.

Flowerpaw felt her chest clench. Somehow, it was easier to cope with the loss of her life when it wasn’t spoken aloud. There was so much that almost every clan cat experienced, so much that Flowerpaw would never have. To keep herself from crying again, Flowerpaw darted to Birchface’s side, pressing up against him like she was sheltering from a storm.

“I guess, in that respect, I am a warrior,” she said quietly, her voice as soft as the downy feathers of an undergrown dove.

Birchface inhaled deeply, his breath hitching as he did so. Flowerpaw felt his tail curl around her body as he leaned into her. “It does,” he replied, his voice cracking as the pain seeped through.

Both cats were silent for a long moment, listening to the sound of the river, of the wind rustling the trees above. Soon, Flowerpaw heard the sound of pawsteps, and her living clanmates emerged onto the shore, greeted by the corpses of a promising young warrior and his apprentice.

Chapter Text

“Welcome back, Talltail- Ah, I mean, Tallstar.”

“Tallstar!”

“Everything went well?”

“How was the journey?”

As soon as Tallstar returned from his nine lives ceremony, he was bombarded with curious questions from the other WindClan cats. He chuckled, his long tail twitching behind him, and he felt a little anxious at all the attention. Barkface gave a rumbling purr, gently shooing their eager clanmates away.

“Back off, everyone,” he meowed. “Tallstar’s had a long night. Everything was fine, if that’s what you’re all worried about.” The medicine cat spoke with a soft raspiness to his voice that seemed to calm the crowd. Tallstar dipped his head gratefully as things started to settle.

“Thank you, Barkface,” he said. “I feel as though I might fall asleep on my paws.”

Barkface laughed good-naturedly, leading Tallstar over to the leader’s den. “Why don’t you have a rest, then? There’s plenty of leadership duties you’ll have to attend to, but they can wait for now.”

Like choosing a deputy. The realization hit Tallstar like a gust of wind, and he straightened up, his tiredness ebbing just a little. “Actually- Before I do that, I’d like to appoint a deputy.” He turned to look down at Barkface, gauging his reaction.

Barkface’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. “You do seem exhausted… It’s perfectly alright if you want to think on it some more.”

Tallstar shook his head. “I don’t need to think on it,” he said. “I know exactly who to choose.”

Barkface seemed a little surprised by Tallstar’s confidence, but he nodded, respecting his new leader’s decision. “Right then,” he rumbled, stepping aside and gesturing to the large granite boulder in the center of the hollow. “Go ahead. I don’t doubt WindClan is eager to be addressed by their new leader.”

Tallstar glanced around, and saw that his clanmates were indeed watching him with excitement, awaiting his next move. Onekit was peering over Wrenflight’s tail, and Tallstar chuckled at the sight. Gracefully, despite the exhaustion weighing down his bones, Tallstar bounded up onto the rock. He could see all his clanmates from here – including his deputy candidate. Tallstar felt an immediate swell of pride, and he let out the meeting call vigorously. 

“Let all cats old enough to run the moor gather around the Tall Rock for a clan meeting!” There wasn’t a huge necessity for the call, but Tallstar enjoyed saying it anyway; it made him really feel like a leader.

As his clan crowded around him, Tallstar began to speak. “Cats of WindClan, I am honored to present myself to you as your new leader. I stand before you in honor of Heatherstar, who looks down at us from her place in StarClan.” A volley of yowls erupted from the gathered cats, both for him and for their fallen leader.

Once they quieted again, Tallstar continued. “The warrior code dictates that I must choose a deputy before moonhigh tonight. The cat I have in mind is strong and cunning, fit to lead alongside me in every way.”

Murmurings rippled through the crowd, and Tallstar noticed many eyes turning to Mudclaw. His whiskers twitched in slight amusement; Mudclaw was a fine warrior, but he was vastly different from the cat Tallstar was going to pick. “Alongside his physical strengths, this cat is resilient and fearless, even when the odds are stacked against them. They are kind, selfless, and noble, the very example of everything a WindClan cat should be.”

The whispering intensified, and Tallstar could see the confusion flashing in their eyes. He figured he shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer. “I saw these words before StarClan, so the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice. Deadfoot will be the new deputy of WindClan.”

A few meowed as surprise and congratulations came from the gathered cats, though none looked quite as surprised as Deadfoot himself. Tallstar watched the small tom pad forward, his amber eyes glowing with pride. Deadfoot looked up at him, shock and delight written all over his features.

“I-” Deadfoot blinked, and Tallstar almost chuckled at the way he could scarcely seem to believe it. “Tallt- Tallstar, are you sure?”

A purr rumbled in Tallstar’s throat. “Of course I’m sure,” he affirmed, still smiling with pride. He couldn’t imagine choosing anyone for this position other than his hardworking, dedicated former apprentice. He’d chosen to train little Hopkit because he saw the spark of potential within him that others failed to. 

“We all have our flaws, but we overcome them. And sometimes, it’s our flaws that make us who we are. You, Deadfoot, have demonstrated this quality better than any cat in WindClan.” Why would he ever choose someone else? “Do you accept this position?”

Deadfoot’s green eyes were wide and almost kitlike, and Tallstar purred again. He could scarcely believe that this was the same kit who used to bicker with Hawkheart and bat at moss balls fervently, the same apprentice who trained tirelessly to keep up with his clanmates on runs, the same warrior who proudly sat vigil alongside his siblings after passing his warrior assessment with flying colors. Tallstar didn’t doubt that Meadowslip was looking down on her son with pride, and he hoped to one day see him become Deadstar.

“I- I do,” Deadfoot said at last, padding up to the base of the Tall Rock and dipping his head respectfully. Smiling, Tallstar slipped gracefully back down to the ground, touching his nose to Deadfoot’s, just as he did back when he was first apprenticed.

Chapter Text

When Fernpaw watched her mentor, hissing and bristling, slink out of camp for the final time, she couldn’t hide the sinking feeling in her heart.

That was Darkstripe. Her mentor. The cat she’d been trusting with her training – her life, for StarClan’s sake – since she was six moons old. They hadn’t always gotten along, but Fernpaw hadn’t expected him to go so far as to try and poison a kit.

After her mother’s death, Fernpaw knew she needed a cat she could rely on. Maybe, deep down, she knew Darkstripe was not that cat all along.

Firestar had reassigned her to Longtail, and now she was following him to the training grounds. Fernpaw remembered seeing the genuine surprise on Longtail’s face when Fireheart had called him forward. Over time, that surprise had started to ebb; day by day, Fernpaw started to see more of the grief interwoven unshakably into Longtail’s eyes. She bit down on the inside of her lip, her tail twitching with uncertainty. If Firestar was expecting her to be a replacement for Swiftpaw, well… That was something she didn’t think she could do.

Once she felt the soft sand of the training hollow underpaw, Fernpaw brushed away her thoughts. She had to focus. She was always hoping to make her mentor proud; Longtail was no different. Chasing away the lingering sorrow in her own heart, she faced off against her mentor, her claws sheathed but her muscles tense.

To her surprise, Longtail didn’t seem to be preparing for a mock skirmish or even a presentation as they had done for every other training session. He sat down in front of her, his tail curling over his paws.

“Just… wanting to check in on you,” Longtail meowed, his voice gruffer than usual. Fernpaw had always known Longtail as a bold, proud young warrior; in the recent moons, he’d grown much more subdued. “I’m sorry about… about Brindleface. And about Darkstripe.” He brought up her former mentor quickly, as if wanting to steer the subject away from grief as quickly as possible. “He was my mentor, too. I even thought of him as a friend.” He let out a bitter huff, his tail lashing through the sand like a serpent.

Fernpaw sat down as well, moving slowly, stiffly. Darkstripe never just talked with her, exactly. And up until this moment, Longtail hadn’t, either. The awkwardness between them was palpable. “Oh- That’s alright,” Fernpaw murmured, her voice soft. It wasn’t alright, not at all. But she didn’t feel that was worth mentioning. 

“It’s not your fault. None of- I mean, yeah. It’s not your fault.” Swiftpaw’s name hovered unspoken on her lips, and she swallowed it back.

Longtail let out a low, nearly-inaudible hum of acknowledgement. He averted his gaze, suddenly becoming very interested in the sand. The silence between them stretched from here to the Moonstone.

Finally, Longtail spoke up again. “I’m not… being too hard on you, am I? ‘Cause I know, Darkstripe, he can be a little…” He trailed off, and Fernpaw got the feeling there was more he wanted to say, words he was holding back.

It hadn’t occurred to her that Longtail might be feeling the same sort of uneasiness with Darkstripe’s exile as she did. And hearing him nod to Darkstripe’s training, well… Fernpaw’s mind immediately flew to the rigorous training sessions, the snide comments, the undeniable disconnection that Fernpaw had tried so hard to deny. Darkstripe had never done anything outright to hurt her. But Fernpaw had always felt distinctly like his chore. Not his apprentice, or his clanmate, or even his responsibility. Just… a chore.

Knowing that Longtail had been there, that he knew the feeling she couldn’t easily put to words, made Fernpaw feel an odd sense of camaraderie with the warrior. When Longtail made eye contact with her, a flicker of understanding passed between them – of past struggles and current pain and the fear that they wouldn’t measure up to the other’s expectations – that couldn’t be formed through conversation alone.

Quietly, Fernpaw shook her head. “No- No, you’ve been just fine so far.” She cleared her throat, the unspoken depth of her reassurance present in her green gaze. “You’ve been just fine.”

Chapter Text

When Firestar asked if he could trust his apprentice, the words had come out in a sudden rush; he flicked his tail, startled by his own outburst. And when Bramblepaw had calmly countered with “Can I trust you?” Firestar almost purred with pride. Bramblepaw’s question wasn’t an accusation or a challenge; it was the calm, level headed seriousness of an adult warrior. Firestar was surprised by how much he’d grown already.

It made him see Bramblepaw in a new light, actually. He hadn’t considered how similar the two of them were, both outcasts in their own clans because of their blood. Maybe Firestar should afford him a little more respect.

Now, they were patrolling along the edge of Twolegplace, making sure the border was secure- Well. Firestar was making sure the border was secure. Bramblepaw was much more absorbed in the fresh blanket of snow that had fallen last night, his amber eyes wide and kit-like as he wrestled with the white fluff. Firestar could see the snowflakes clinging to his tabby fur, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It made him wonder… Did Tigerstar ever play like that? Was there a time, many moons ago, where the great dark-hearted warrior was as carefree as a kitten? Firestar slowed his pawsteps, a contemplative look crossing his face as he watched his apprentice play.

Surely not. Still, Firestar felt a prickle of unease. If Tigerstar had been playful like this once, when had he gone astray? What was the turning point that pushed him over into ruthless and cold? Firestar’s ears gave a nervous twitch. 

Should he be worried?

Shaking his head, Firestar continued along, following the trail of pawsteps that Bramblepaw was leaving behind. He really needed to stop comparing his apprentice to his father, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted was to be the one to force Bramblepaw down a dark path with his prejudice. After all, judging a cat for his heritage… Well, that would make Firestar no better than Tigerstar, wouldn’t it?

Firestar had a choice to be a loyal ThunderClan warrior; why shouldn’t Bramblepaw be given that choice as well?

Realizing his apprentice was getting ahead of him, Firestar stopped and cleared his throat. “Bramblepaw,” he called out, his tone more authoritative than he had intended. Immediately, Bramblepaw spun around to face him, snout dotted with snow, amber eyes wide. Immediately, Firestar saw the shift from playful young cat to attentive warrior apprentice. Surprise and endearment welled in his heart.

“Come here for a moment, will you?”

Without hesitation, Bramblepaw trotted over, his posture straight and his ears pricked. He looked ready for training, ready to undertake whatever task Firestar set forth for him.

So Firestar almost felt guilty when he swiped his paw through a pile of snow, sending a miniature blizzard roaring into Bramblepaw’s face.

With a startled squeak, Bramblepaw scrambled back. His eyes were wide with shock, his mouth agape with something akin to betrayal. “Hey!” he squealed, his fur fluffed up to twice his size. “StarClan, Firestar, what was that for?”

Firestar let out a low, rumbling purr of amusement, chest trembling with laughter at how disgruntled his apprentice had gotten. Before he could respond with words, however, Bramblepaw was fighting back, his massive paws slamming into the snow and sending up a wave of snowflakes. It was Firestar’s turn to be startled, meowing in surprise as the cold fluff stung his skin.

With a playful snarl, Firestar turned to his apprentice, his tail thrashing in excitement. Bramblepaw was staring him down, teeth bared in challenge. “I should assign you to tick duty for a moon for your disrespectful behavior!” Firestar chastised, the authoritative tone gone from his voice.

Bramblepaw stuck out his tongue, his grin turning mischievous. “You’ll have to catch me first!” he jeered. He turned and kicked up more flurries as he startled to scramble away, moving nimbly despite the heavy coat of snow he was wearing.

With a laugh, Firestar scrambled after him, yowling lighthearted threats at Bramblepaw’s retreating form, the border patrol (and his worries) suddenly forgotten.

Chapter Text

“Leafpool is our mother, and Crowfeather – yes, Crowfeather of WindClan – is our father.”

Heathertail watched the Gathering erupt into chaos, her ears pinned back against her head. All around her, accusatory yowls tore from WindClan throats, anger and disbelief seizing the air like smoke. Hollyleaf’s words hardly registered, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. She glanced towards Crowfeather, searching her mentor’s gaze for some sort of reassurance. Instead, she saw something cold and steady, as if he were masking something frantic beneath.

“It’s not true!” Somehow, Crowfeather’s voice rose about the crowd as he sprang to his paws, fur fluffed out and bristling. When he glanced briefly – oh so briefly, any other cat would’ve missed it – in Leafpool’s direction, Heathertail saw a hint of recognition, soured by underlying fear. “She’s lying!”

StarClan, please, let it be so. Heathertail swallowed, a pit opening up in her stomach. She knew she should be angry; instead, her muscles were squeezed tight with agony she couldn’t soothe. It can’t be. As much as she wanted to deny it, though, Heathertail could see the resemblance between Hollyleaf and Crowfeather. She’d never noticed it before, but now that it had been pointed out, it was almost uncanny. Hollyleaf had Crowfeather’s dark fur, his lean limbs, his small head… So many traits that had been lost in translation onto Breezepelt.

StarClan… Heathertail turned to Breezepelt and saw the rage burning in every fiber of his body. It was the kind of anger that scared her when she saw it – in scraps and pieces and fire-fueled rants about Crowfeather – amplified tenfold. She knew better than any cat (aside from maybe Nightcloud) the ins and outs of Breezepelt’s pain. She knew a betrayal like this would shatter him.

“It’s true, Crowfeather.” Leafpool’s voice was like the crackle of a leaf underpaw: small and fragile, but enough to turn heads. Resignation held in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but there was never a right time.”

A hiss spilled from Breezepelt’s teeth, and Heathertail watched her mentor’s face fall. Finally, a flicker of anger sizzled in her stomach. How could he? How could he betray WindClan like this? How could he betray his family – his real family?

Her gaze travelled over the three ThunderClan cats who shared WindClan blood. Hollyleaf had her lips peeled back, her snarl drowned out by the screeches and yowls. Jayfeather’s ears were pinned back, his tail bristling as he no doubt fought to maintain composure. And Lionblaze…

Lionblaze. Seeing him right now was… It was heart wrenching, and it shouldn’t have been. Heathertail had met each cat as an apprentice, but she only really knew Lionpaw. StarClan damn her… He still lingered in her mind, not as an apprentice anymore, but a broad-shouldered, golden warrior. Their secret escapades were burned permanently into her head, following her around like an odor she couldn’t shake.

And now he was being put on display for all the clans to gawk. Heathertail watched him stare in horror, not at Crowfeather, but at his sister. The news was going to ruin his life, no doubt.

He’s Breezepelt’s brother. Heathertail almost recoiled at the realization. He’s Breezepelt’s half-ThunderClan brother, and I fell in love with him.

~ 🏵 🏶 🏵 ~

There was too much for Heathertail to process all in one night. Her mentor was a traitor, and she was still set on his same path. Back at camp, sleep didn’t come easy; she laid away from her clanmates, head buried in her paws, trying not to let her thoughts consume her.

I can’t be like that. I can’t do it. I can’t betray my clan. Not for Lionblaze. No matter what.

She shook her head, her claws scraping through the sandy earth. Crowfeather had kin in ThunderClan. Her mentor. Kin. In ThunderClan. And it was Lionblaze, of all cats.

No matter how many times it echoed in her mind, Heathertail couldn’t quite grasp it. She looked up at Silverpelt, where the stars were half-obscured by a blanket of wispy clouds.

StarClan, please, tell me it’s not true.

Across camp, she saw Breezepelt. The warrior wasn’t even pretending to sleep; even from so far away, Heathertail could see the glint of his claws buried in the dirt, the occasional twitch of his body suggesting his fury. It was hard to say if she loved him like she had Lionblaze, but she couldn’t deny that watching him suffer made her heart twist.

Slowly, she pulled herself to her paws. The fresh-kill pile was on the way; Heathertail paused, dipped her head and took a bird between her teeth. She tried hard to focus on her steps, to keep them steady, to hold back the tumultuous storm brewing in her head.

Gently, she set the bird at Breezepelt’s paws. Heathertail watched her friend snap to attention, as if her presence had woken him from some kind of bad dream. He stared at her blankly, and Heathertail wondered if he was as lost as she was – lost in rage rather than simply unsettled.

Heathertail gave the bird a nudge with her nose. “Eat something,” she urged him. Her pale blue eyes bare into his amber, and she willed him to listen. She opened her mouth to speak again, then closed it, words evading her.

Breezepelt was still staring at her with eyes unblinking. Heathertail settled by his side, her pelt just barely brushing his. “Eat,” she insisted again. “You haven’t hardly eaten all day. You have to eat something.”

Relief flooded her as Breezepelt, wordlessly, leaned down to take a slow, hesitant bite of the prey. Heathertail could feel the tension in his body; every jerk of his taut muscles felt like a silent sob. She knew he wasn’t going to cry – she never expected him to – but the silence he chose over loud, yowling anguish told her enough.

Quietly, Heathertail sat by his side as he ate, listening to the sound of him chewing, the sound of her own blood pulsing through her veins. Crowfeather had harmed WindClan, driving his claws deeper than he had ever likely intended. Heathertail would not do the same. She would sit here beside Breezepelt until the sun stopped setting, and she would like DarkClan where it belonged – in the dark.

I have to love him, Heathertail thought, casting Breezepelt a subtle glance. For WindClan’s sake, and my own.

Chapter Text

I don’t belong here.

Tawnypaw shifted her weight, her tail tapping lightly against damp ground. She was the only one awake in ShadowClan’s camp – Rowanpaw and Cedarpaw were still sound asleep in the apprentices’ den – and she was taking in the semi-familiar surroundings with a small frown on her muzzle.

Do I?

Everything was different here. From the weather to the meeting call right down to the smell. Every morning, Tawnypaw got up early and just stared, trying to grapple with the choice she’d made. A small sigh escaped her; she’d come to ShadowClan to be with her father, to get away from the judgmental murmurings of the ThunderClan cats. But now, Tigerstar was gone, and Tawnypaw couldn’t be sure her new clanmates weren’t just as weary of his kin.

It wasn’t about Tigerstar, not anymore. She was making this choice of her own accord. There was no chance she would ever go back, no matter how much she missed her mother and brother.

I made my choice. No matter what, I’m going to live with it.

A soft rustle nearly scared the fur off Tawnypaw’s pelt. Abruptly torn from her thoughts, she turned and saw Oakfur emerging from the warriors’ den, pausing briefly to pick a bramble off his shoulder. Her new mentor wasn’t at all like Brackenfur. He was a lot… stiffer, maybe? He had none of Brackenfur’s shyness, none of his gentle patience. Some days, Tawnypaw liked the change, but others, she yearned for a little bit of tenderness.

Oakfur noticed her staring and sauntered over, his gait calm but purposeful. “You’re up early,” he noted once he was within earshot. He paused for a moment before adding, “Sleep well?”

Tawnypaw nodded briskly, unwilling to let any of her inner turmoil show. “I slept alright,” she meowed curtly. Truthfully, it was hard, sometimes, for sleep to come, without the familiar blanket of ThunderClan scent enveloping her. She considered adding something about how she was getting used to camp, but decided against it; she didn’t want her new clanmates getting any inkling that she was missing home, even if it was only a little.

Thankfully, Oakfur seemed to believe her. “Well, that’s alright,” he responded gruffly. “Russetfur tells me Cedarpaw snores. Hope that ain’t bothering ya.”

It took Tawnypaw a moment to figure out if Oakfur was joking or not, with his rather humorless tone. She cleared her throat and shook her head. “No- No, not at all.”

An awkward silence settled between them. Oakfur looked like he wanted to say something else, but quickly shook himself. “Well then, why don’t we head out and work on a bit of your hunting skills, hm? It’s only dawn; the prey’s just waking up.”

Tawnypaw nodded, rising to her paws immediately. “Sure,” she said simply, before following Oakfur out of camp.

Tawnypaw thought she could see the first buds of newleaf starting to appear in small, snowless patches, unfamiliar herbs unfurling in the patchy sunlight. It made her think about how much time had gone by. The death of her father, the battle with BloodClan… and after all that, she didn’t feel like she belonged.

Will I ever? she thought, stealing a glance up ahead at Oakfur. She sighed and plowed ahead, her paws sinking into the peaty ground with every step.

Soon, Oakfur slowed to a halt, and Tawnypaw came up beside him. She lifted her head to scent for prey, and immediately her senses were assaulted with the unfamiliar: pine trees, muddy earth, and something distinctly ShadowClan. She frowned, but Oakfur didn’t seem to be tracking specific prey at the moment.

“Here in ShadowClan, we use the darkness as our cover,” Oakfur explained. He padded ahead to stand in the shade of a pine tree, and gave Tawnypaw a rare, small smile. “I ain’t much of a ThunderClan expert, but I do know their territory’s a lot different. Lots of undergrowth. Much less than here. Ain’t that right?”

Tawnypaw nodded, and Oakfur hummed, returning the nod. “Right. I expect most ThunderClanners use that undergrowth to sneak up on prey. I know I’ve been ambushed pretty badly once or twice.” His whiskers twitched, and Tawnypaw wondered what memory he might be recalling. The thought of fighting against ThunderClan made her uneasy, and she was glad when Oakfur continued. “Those same skills apply to the shadows. Hide yourself in them. Stick to them. Prey won’t see ya comin’. You hear?”

Again, Tawnypaw nodded. Maybe she was crazy, but she thought she could see reassurance in Oakfur’s eyes. He wasn’t saying anything outright, but even still, the idea that her hunting skills could still be useful here brought Tawnypaw a sense of comfort.

Oakfur flicked his tail. “There’s a mouse right up ahead there, behind those ferns.” Tawnypaw peered towards where he’d gestured, and indeed she could see the leaves twitching subtly. Oakfur stepped back, silently allowing Tawnypaw to take over.

Immediately, Tawnypaw dropped into her hunting crouch, her limbs slotting effortlessly into the practiced position. She slunk to the right, plunging into the dark cover provided by the pine tree above, her own shadow melting into it. It felt much more exposed than ThunderClan’s undergrowth, but still Tawnypaw tried to lean into it, imagining the shade falling over her like snow. Carefully, she crept towards the ferns. She was surprised to find the pine needles and mud cushioning her pawsteps; in ThunderClan, every movement was treacherous, as the smallest crack of a stray stick could send prey fleeing.

Tawnypaw was starting to smell the mouse, and at last she saw it, rummaging at the base of the fern for seeds. She bunched her muscles and sprang, launching herself forward with her forepaws outstretched. The mouse barely had time to react before it was trapped in her claws, and Tawnypaw killed it with a swift bite to the neck.

“That’s it!” Oakfur cheered as Tawnypaw lifted her head, the small catch dangling from her jaws. She turned and saw him beaming a few fox-lengths away, a bigger smile on his face than she thought she’d ever see. Immediately, she felt a rush of pride akin to that of a first-ever catch. Adjusting her grip on the mouse, Tawnypaw trotted back over to her mentor.

“You’re a natural, Tawnypaw!” Oakfur said as Tawnypaw approached him. “How’d that feel, huh?”

Tawnypaw set down the mouse. “Great!” she purred, her tail raised proudly. “You were right about the shadows. I can’t believe it didn’t see me.” Though she didn’t say it explicitly, her words were laced with gratitude.

Oakfur dipped his head in agreement. “It’s amazing, ain’t it? Always a thrill, a ShadowClan catch.” He gestured towards the base of the nearest pine tree with his muzzle. “Why don’t you bury that there and we can continue on?”

Tawnypaw brought her mouse over and buried it, covering it carefully with the damp earth. As she trotted after her mentor, she felt a little more at ease among the shadowed territory. Oakfur’s lesson was a breath of fresh air, a reminder that her skills were still useful, that she had friends in ShadowClan.

Maybe we can make this work after all.

Chapter Text

Honeyfern was just like her mother, Sandstorm thought. She was more-than-likely biased, of course; Sorreltail had been her apprentice, too. But she reckoned she wasn’t the only cat who could see it. Her love for her siblings, her quiet anxiety, her kind heart… and her selflessness, never more obvious than in her final moments.

Honeyfern’s passing was moons ago, now. Visits to her grave had slowly grown more infrequent, which wasn’t to say she’d been forgotten. Sandstorm could see the visible shudder that rippled through the clan at the mere allusion to snakes. It made her stomach twist; every cat remembered Honeyfern’s tragic death so vividly. She often wondered if her other traits had been washed away from ThunderClan’s memory, ebbed like a rock face under harsh wind.

One morning, when Sandstorm rose to her paws, she made a quick detour on her way out. It wasn’t unusual for her to patrol alone; sometimes, the best way to catch prey was without other cats kicking up noise.

(Which was a lesson she’d tried, and failed, to teach Honeyfern. Sandstorm’s whiskers twitched in amusement as she remembered her trotting alongside Berrynose, who was perhaps the loudest and most disruptive cat around the lake.)

Speaking of Berrynose, Sandstorm nearly ran into him on her way out. Berrynose stopped abruptly, the scent of lavender still on his muzzle. “Oh- ‘Morning, Sandstorm,” he said, his voice a little more subdued than usual. Sandstorm felt a pang of sympathy; immediately, she knew where he’d been. “Heading out early?”

Sandstorm dipped her head. “‘Morning, Berrynose,” she echoed. “Yes, I’m just going to do a bit of hunting. Let Firestar know if he starts acting like a worry-weasel again.” She snorted.

Berrynose flashed a cheeky smile – perhaps out of delight at hearing his leader be called a “worry-weasel” – and Sandstorm was glad to have lifted his spirits. “Will do,” he said with a nod, before slipping past her into camp.

Sandstorm continued on her way, heading for ThunderClan’s burial grounds. It hurt to see the usually-spunky warrior looking so down, even after all this time; he, Poppyfrost, and Sorreltail were the most frequent visitors of Honeyfern’s grave. When she arrived there, she immediately saw a fresh sprig of lavender resting over the patch of barely-there grass, settled among the older, dried-up bundles. Silently, she cursed herself for not bringing anything to leave, and resolved to do so next time.

It was difficult, some days, to make time for this. The state of ThunderClan was rather chaotic, with the lingering tension of Leafpool’s secret – StarClan, Sandstorm’s heart ached for her daughter – not to mention the beginnings of a drought starting to seep in. Still, Sandstorm made an effort. After so many temporary apprentices that Sandstorm had been forced to leave behind, that hadn’t really been hers – Feathertail, Sparrowpelt, Foxleap – seeing Honeyfern grow beyond her apprenticeship was enlightening.

Without a word, Sandstorm settled down, her tail wrapping neatly around her paws. Beside the patch of earth where Honeyfern was buried, there was another grave – this one older, the grass grown much thicker. Molepaw. Her tail gave a small twitch at the memory of his passing, and the way it had affected Honeypaw. She recalled their quieter, gentler training session with a mix of fondness and sorrow.

With her world in such an unpredictable place, Sandstorm felt grounded, sitting here, in her memories of her apprentice. Even if she would never hear her voice again, would never see her make another catch, would never again cheer her on, it felt like Honeyfern was still with her, even now. Accepting her death was… Well, Sandstorm wasn’t sure the ache would ever fully fade. But the idea that Honeyfern was at peace in StarClan, while the lake was anything but peaceful, put Sandstorm at ease.

Raising to her paws and dipping her head, Sandstorm touched her nose to the earth, the scent of lavender pooling around her. On the day of the snake’s attack, ThunderClan hadn’t just lost a hero; they’d lost a mighty fine warrior. Sometimes, Sandstorm wished it could’ve been different, that Honeyfern hadn’t leapt in, but… she knew her apprentice had made the right choice.

“Rest easy, Honeyfern,” Sandstorm murmured softly. “I’m proud of you.”

She stood up straight, turning to leave. Before her, Sorreltail was standing, jaws full of lavender, watching Sandstorm with a wide-eyed expression. She looked to be on the brink of tears. Quietly, so as not to disturb her grief, Sandstorm passed her by, tail brushing her flank as she went.

Chapter Text

“It’s just as Squirrelflight said,” Lilyheart meowed sternly. “You were too reckless.”

In front of her, the dark-furred tom gave a teeth-baring snarl, his tail lashing from side to side. He was growing up steadily, towering over his younger denmates; Lilyheart couldn’t help but think he should be a warrior by now. “You don’t believe that,” Flamepaw snapped, his pelt bristling. “You’re just listening to her because she’s Firestar’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Lilyheart let out a wavering sigh, her own tail twitching with impatience. Flamepaw’s resentment was something she doubted she’d ever understand – Firestar was a hero and an honor to share blood with, from what she’d heard – but clearly Flamepaw didn’t see it that way. “I’m listening to her because she’s our deputy,” Lilyheart responded, trying to keep her voice level. “And because she’s right.”

Flamepaw let out a hiss. “Of course she is.” Eyes still blazing with fury, he turned and stormed away, fur fluffed up like an angry cloud.

Again, Lilyheart let out a sigh. Oh StarClan, I’m not the right cat for this. It was strange enough that she was mentoring her grandson; it was worse still that he didn’t want to listen to her. This was his second assessment – his second failed assessment. And that stunt he pulled, snatching a thrush from a hawk’s line of view… It had been reckless. On one paw, she was impressed. But on the other, Lilyheart could see exactly what Squirrelflight was worried about.

Grief followed Flamepaw like a shadow. It followed Lilyheart, too. She was no stranger to loss; Sorreltail was gone, Seedpaw was gone, Snowbush was gone. And now, the death of her son, Larksong, was showing its ripples.

She wanted to help Flamepaw. She did, really. But what more was she supposed to do? She could see Larksong in his night-black fur, his walk, his temper. StarClan help her if that boy got himself into trouble she couldn’t rescue him from.

The shuffle of paws tore Lilyheart from her thoughts. Looking up, she saw Squirrelflight approaching her. Swallowing nervously, Lilyheart moved over to give the deputy space to sit beside her.

“Trouble with Flamepaw?” Squirrelflight asked, cocking her head.

Lilyheart gave a humorless laugh. “When isn’t there?” she asked dryly, glancing in the direction that Flamepaw had stormed off in. She shook her head, her claws sinking into the dirt in an attempt to hold herself steady. “I just don’t know what to do, Squirrelflight.”

Squirrelflight gave a small, saddened hum of agreement. Lilyheart almost winced; that wasn’t the reassurance she’d been hoping for. “Don’t take it too hard,” Squirrelflight meowed gently. “You can’t fix all of his problems. None of us can.”

Lilyheart’s claws scraped the ground as a sudden burst of frustration rushed through her. “But I can fix this,” she snarled, the fur along her spine raising. “Or I should! What am I doing wrong? I train with him every day, but nothing is working! What am I supposed to do? Am I too hard on him? Not hard enough?”

Squirrelflight laid her tail across Lilyheart’s back, and Lilyheart drew in a deep breath, the older she-cat’s touch softening her bubbling anger. “He’ll get there,” Squirrelflight said, her tone surprisingly calm. “Whether he knows it or not, ThunderClan is looking after him.” Her green gaze clouded, and Lilyheart was suddenly reminded of a memory: Squirrelflight and Bramblestar, playing with Flamekit and Finchkit, their eyes pools of affection.

Lilyheart shook her head again, at a loss, her frustration drained into something dull and useless. She wasn’t sure who to blame: Flamepaw, for his rude behavior? Sparkpelt, for not raising him in her grief? Sorrelstripe or Squirrelflight or even herself, for not being the parent he so clearly needed?

“They are,” she agreed after a moment. “And I will too.”

Squirrelflight dipped her head, smiling with approval. “That’s the spirit,” she purred, pride in her voice. “I’ll be around if there’s anything else you need.” With that, she bounded off, returning to her duties. Lilyheart watched her go, her stomach full of rocks.

I’ll look after him, she resolved, her lips pressed into a thin line. Whether it takes three tries or four tries or one thousand, I’ll make sure he earns his warrior name.

Chapter Text

Ravenpaw had a snake – a snake – in his teeth.

Tigerclaw had sent him out to hunt near Snakerocks. Alone. Where adders hid around every corner and lurked in every shadow. A test for a true warrior, right? Ravenpaw’s skin prickled.

Well, he shouldn’t be so anxious. After all, things had worked out just fine. Just as intended, probably. Ravenpaw was sent to catch prey, and oh boy, did he catch prey. He was dragging an adder the length of his whole body into camp, and he could see Firepaw and Graypaw gawking at him. A rare flicker of pride – and a common flash of affection – bloomed in his chest.

“Ravenpaw!” Graypaw called. He looked dumbfounded. “You caught that?” Firepaw tilted his head from behind him, looking at Ravenpaw as though he’d slain a badger.

Ravenpaw ducked his head, purring shyly. He set the scaly creature down at his paws, and Graypaw jumped back with a squeak. “Well- Yeah,” Ravenpaw mumbled. He felt warm from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. “At Snakerocks.”

“Before it could catch you, huh?” Graypaw teased. Firepaw nudged him with his shoulder, and Graypaw let out a dramatic huff.

“Don’t be a jerk, Graypaw,” Firepaw said, before turning his attention back to Ravenpaw. “StarClan, that must’ve been scary. That’s really impressive, Ravenpaw.”

“Indeed.” A cold, level voice from behind him drained all the warmth of Ravenpaw’s body in one sharp blow. His stomach seized and the fur along his spine rose on instinct, even as he tried not to let it. He turned, his movements jerky and methodical. All the joy and pride and happiness inside him withered away, and Ravenpaw found himself face-to-face with his massive tabby mentor.

“Snakerocks is an incredibly dangerous place.” Tigerclaw was a good head taller than Ravenpaw, especially when the latter cowered as he so often did. His shadow cast over Ravenpaw’s smaller form, enveloping him in darkness. Power seeped from every hair on his pelt, power he flaunted over Ravenpaw every chance he got.

Like right now, for example. The way he was looking down at Ravenpaw was… unnerving. His amber eyes were narrowed just slightly, the difference imperceptible to any ordinary passerby. It was a look Ravenpaw had grown familiar with. He felt like a mouse, or a stone, or any other small, useless object. A shiver rippled through Ravenpaw’s body, and it took all he had to hide it.

Oh, StarClan, he can’t know. Don’t let him know how much he scares me.

Thankfully, Tigerclaw didn’t seem keen on sticking around his useless apprentice. Ravenpaw knew Tigerclaw wanted nothing to do with him. With a gruff, ingenuine “well done,” the massive tabby warrior moved off.

Ravenpaw finally allowed himself to relax. Or, he should have. There was tension in his body that wouldn’t leave.

He could hear Firepaw and Graypaw chittering behind him. “Who put thorns in his nest?” “Even his compliments sound like insults.” “What a fox-heart.” That sort of thing. Ravenpaw was grateful for them. He really, really was. But they couldn’t make it better, not this time.

He’s a murderer. A monster. And nobody knows it.

Ravenpaw had watched Tigerclaw kill Redtail. He was sure. Well, he was pretty sure. Mostly sure. Sure enough to be terrified within a fox-length of Tigerclaw, even if he told himself not to.

He glanced down at the adder laying in the dirt. It was quite the feat, catching a snake. Graypaw and Firepaw had said it themselves.

So why didn’t it feel… right?

Tigerclaw’s clear disapproval stung, even if it was expected. Ravenpaw knew Lionheart would be showering Graypaw with a mix of praise and concern if the gray tom came home with a catch like that. Jealousy rippled like sickness through his belly.

I don’t want Tigerclaw’s approval. Ravenpaw knew that. He- He thought he knew that. On a logical level, at least. It was foul, and wrong, and useless to chase the affection of such a despicable creature.

And yet…

It still hurt.

He glanced at the adder again. The pride he felt when he sauntered into camp felt like a distant echo now. No matter what he did, he couldn’t do anything well – not in Tigerclaw’s eyes, or even his own.

Maybe he caught a snake today. But it wasn’t the right one.