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When the morning comes, manifesting itself through the rays of early sunlight that twist and weave themselves through even the thickest branches of the densest woods just to make their coming known, Spider rolls over in his makeshift nest and blinks his eyes open, opening his jaws wide to yawn and to taste the morning air — it would taste like sunrise even if the sun rays were hidden behind the clouds and the trees after all. He steps out of the shelter of a bush onto the grass, damp from the dew, and, despite the usual coldness of it, which is the parting gift from the night, Spider finds himself thinking that it’s warmer than usual. He walks in it slowly, still stretching his limbs after sleep. He’s not sure whether the warmth has come from the change of season or because he has walked long enough to get someplace warmer in general; either way, he doesn’t really remember how many moons have passed since he has set out on his solitary journey.
He had a clan when he was a kit — or well, the clan had him; neither Spiderkit nor, later, Spiderpaw ever felt like he had anyone at all. Not his warrior mother, taken away by sickness so soon after he was born, nor his fat, lazy kittypet father who he only ever knew from the descriptions of his clanmates, immediately prejudiced against his will. Everyone else might not have driven him out deliberately, but he knew he was making the right choice when he slipped out of the camp in the middle of the night, having fought with his mentor at the sunhigh before over whether or not he has deserved his warrior ceremony, while his denmates were eagerly awaiting theirs at sunrise to come. His mentor accused him of being softer than everyone else, and when Spiderpaw spoke back, when his tail lashed out, his heart aching with betrayal from the one cat he had thought was supposed to believe in him, that cat went so far as to offend his parentage even further.
“...What’s with the attitude?” he hissed. “You’re sly as a fox when you want to be, I can see that much, and with hateful fire in your eyes to match. Who knows who your mother actually made friends with outside the borders, huh?”
Upon leaving the clan’s territory, knowing that the other apprentices would now definitely be getting their warrior names without him, Spiderpaw took it upon himself to look up at Silverpelt and name himself Spiderclaw from that night onward — even if the noble warrior name would never be uttered at him by anyone else. Even if he himself abandoned the warrior life at all and thought his own play at a ceremony ridiculous— Still.
Maybe in another life, Spiderclaw would have been a respected warrior of the forests.
He catches himself some breakfast and makes sure to bury the bones under another bush before setting off — he might be a rogue now, but he still has better manners than most and a certain distaste in his mouth at the idea of a crow picking up the uneaten remains of his own fresh-kill. He gives himself a wash, feeling pleasantly warm and full, and scents the air to find that the clearing seems full of prey in every direction, should he get hungry later. When Spider does prod onward, he’s in a pleasantly good mood.
He doesn’t have a goal or anywhere in particular he’s going. The life of a rogue is such that everything under the sky is his to roam through — whether the Star Clan likes it or not. The fact that there are certain clearings he turns away from and scents that he would never follow is his choice and his alone; after all, he’s fought enough border patrols, and emerged a winner from a fair share of them, that no one can question him as a coward.
When he catches this particular trail, however, it catches him off guard. He is very sure that he has traveled far enough from his birth den in the past moons that he has also escaped the borders of all of his past neighbors. He hasn’t smelled a familiar cat in a long time, but he is sure that he would still remember it if he felt it again: those are the scents that were engraved into him from his kittenhood, after all, and the others from his first scout missions and first battles, first scratches on his nose and stranger fur stuck to his claws. This scent, however, while definitely belonging to a cat, is unlike the ones he grew up with, yet it also lacks the softness and fragile sense of safety of a kittypet. Another rogue, maybe? Another loner? But there is something else to it, a cluster of other scents behind it, which Spider himself, having traveled so far and so long on his own, wouldn’t have on him. Despite himself, Spider is curious, and his eyes close as his nose turns towards the scent trail, sniffing carefully, his front paw lifting to turn him in the direction of—
A shape pounces at him from behind the closest bush, hitting him in the snout. Spider stumbles back a step and prepares his own paw for a strike, lips turning into a snarl, when he widens his eyes, and his expression immediately changes into that of surprise, confusion, and a little bit of embarrassment from being caught off guard like this.
Before him, pressing herself to the Earth and looking at him with wide, curious eyes, is a creamy tabby she-kit, her tiny claws digging into the mud. Spider’s nose is itching, but it was a hard blow rather than a sharp one, so those claws clearly missed, him only getting hit by the soft part of her paw. Spider’s eyes narrow, and he tries not to let his guard down completely, but it’s hard not to relax at such a picture. At least it makes sense why she smells like a cluster of cats: her parents must be nearby, at least her mother, surely? Spider opens his mouth to speak, but when the young one notices that, she hisses ahead of him.
“Where have you come from?” the she-kit demands. “You don’t belong to the Bat Clan.” She gives him a careful sniff. “I don’t think you come from the Twoleg Place either…”
The Bat Clan..? Spider blinks. He’s never heard of the Bat Clan where he came from, and he doesn’t know how it never occurred to him, after all his travels, that if there are more fields and hills and swamps out there, there should also be the cats to claim them. Not all land belongs to the Twolegs, after all, and where there are birds and mice and fish, there will be hunters fit for such.
“I come a long way from here,” he evades the question, his tail lashing slightly in annoyance, although at his own past rather than the curious stranger.
“Are there other clans there?” She immediately follows with another question, now letting her guard down, sitting up straight. “Sweettooth told me there are other warrior clans out there, but we are the only one this side of the Twoleg Place, but we must still follow through with the border controls in case they get through and decide to invade. We must also be cautious about rogues who could steal our prey…” she trails off, then looks squarely at Spider, “Are you a loner?”
Instead of answering, Spider notes: “You are awfully brave for a sweet little kit.”
The eyes of the she-kit narrow, and she puffs her chest.
“I’m not a little kit! My name is Juniperpaw, and I’m an apprentice! My mother might be a kittypet, but I’m not gonna be any less of a warrior for that.”
Spider’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops just slightly in surprise. He’s already been gathering a certain respect for the little Juniperpaw, but this hit him deep. Throughout his life he has never once thought what it would be like to meet another one like him — he detested his mother for bringing him into the clan life and then leaving for Star Clan before she could defend him against the treatment he was sure to be getting, and he detested his father for the same reasons that everyone else did, entirely biased, ashamed. This little half-blood, however, he could never see himself detesting. Here in front of him stands a bold, intelligent young apprentice, one he would have been proud to mentor himself if he’d ever gotten a chance to. To think that someone could mock her behind or to her face was threatening to start a growl deep within his throat.
He suppresses it.
“My apologies.” He bows his head slightly. “I was fooled by your size, but I can see now that I was wrong in assuming. My name is… Spiderclaw.”
For the first time, the name that never got to be is uttered out loud.
“My kittypet father also caused me trouble in my birth clan, and now I am traveling alone.”
This time Spiderclaw is ready for when a new scent reaches his nostrils, and he can hear a rustling in the bushes that Juniperpaw previously jumped him from. The she-cat also turns to meet the intruder, and in a moment they are both faced with a ruffled, muscular ginger cat, a single black spot under his left eye going down to his nose. His orange eyes are narrow slits, and he lets out a growl at Spiderclaw, his claws unsheathed.
Juniperpaw reacts and leaps to stand in between the two of them.
“Wait!”
The cat hisses at her too. “What are you doing?! I told ya to come right back from the border, especially if you smell anything weird! Get away from him!”
“Stupid Maplenose!” Juniperpaw lashes back. “I have it all under control! This is Spiderclaw— he says he’s half-kittypet. Like the two of us.”
That does get the cat’s attention, it appears; Spiderclaw doesn’t miss the way his gaze flickers towards him for a second with just a hint of familiarity in the eyes.
“So what?! Doesn’t make him less of a stranger,” Maplenose grumbles, but his stance does relax a little, although his tail is still lashing wildly in annoyance.
“I’m just passing through,” Spiderclaw puts in before the tension between the two clan cats can escalate into an argument. “I wasn’t aware I crossed the border.”
“He hasn’t hurt me now, has he?” Juniperpaw shoots him a friendly look. Spider can tell that whatever affection he is feeling towards the young she-can is mutual, and that makes his tail stand up straighter.
Maplenose sighs in defeat.
“Guess not.” He walks a circle around Spiderclaw, sniffing. “Still, we should probably report you to Murr anyway. Come with me.”
The cat turns without a second look at the other two and gestures with his tail for them to follow. Spiderclaw throws a quick glance at Juniperpaw, who takes a moment to stretch, then starts walking with her head held up with pride; Spiderclaw hesitates, but before the clan cats can go too far, Juniperpaw looks back at him and gives an encouraging tilt of the head, and Spiderclaw finally follows.
He catches up with Juniperpaw, only a pace behind Maplenose, and they walk mostly in silence. The she-cat throws occasional glances at him, which Spiderclaw first aims to ignore, so as not to embarrass her, but when he does throw her a glance back, Juniperpaw’s eyes actually close in a delightful smile, and she purrs out, quietly, probably so that Maplenose ahead of them doesn’t hear it:
“You’re pretty.”
Spiderclaw himself lets out an amused purr and — also checking that Maplenose is not looking — swipes his tail affectionately over Juniperpaw’s back.
Maplenose does see them — but he just blows air through his nose in exaggeration of frustration and keeps going.
The apprentice’s comment stays with Spiderclaw for the rest of the way. He knows that he looks a bit unusual for a forest cat: mostly white but not quite, his tail dark, tabby stripes over his legs and forehead. His mother was a gray tabby, and he knows that he resembles his father much more than her in his appearance — even though he’s never actually seen the kittypet. Young warriors and apprentices older than him used to tease him about how well he would fit in a Twoleg’s den, surrounded by whatever soft pelts they sometimes throw out; older warriors, despite halfheartedly scolding them occasionally, did also imply that he should be careful not to catch a Twoleg’s eye.
Cats like him do not belong in the forest, it seemed. Well, Spiderclaw has made it all this way hiding and lashing out at every pair of furless paws that tried to reach for him, so he has proven them wrong.
“We’re here,” Maplenose announces, and they finally step into a clearing.
Spiderclaw has been scenting more and more cats for a while now, but it’s different now that they are actually in the proximity of him. He sniffs the air and flicks his ears, listening in to the sounds of cat chatter that quiets down a little when Maplenose’s clanmates start noticing that he’s brought a stranger into the camp. There doesn’t seem to be much contempt in their eyes, however; just curiosity.
Well, considering what Juniperpaw has told him earlier, he assumes they don’t get attacked often.
“Maplenose!” A large white tom — their deputy? — reaches them in a couple of strides and stops to sniff the air around Spideclaw as well. “What’s going on?”
“That’s Sweettooth,” Juniperpaw whispers, “Our deputy.”
“Juniperpaw disobeyed again,” Maplenose says blankly, and before the apprentice can open her jaws to disagree, he continues to report: “Found this tom and decided to deal with him on her own, could have gotten her ears scratched clean off if I didn’t come back for her.”
“That’s not true!” Juniperpaw does manage to put in, at the same time as Sweettooth rushes to her side with a:
“Oh no! Are you okay?”
“I’m alright… Spiderclaw isn’t here to harm us, he had to leave his own clan.”
“Abandon, you mean?” a teasing voice sounds from a distant den, and it’s awfully familiar to Spiderclaw — not the voice of the cat himself, but the teasing tone of it, snarky and unwelcoming.
Maplenose growls slightly. “Nobody called for you, Bluemoon.”
A slender black cat stops next to the clan deputy and looks at the ginger with his eyes thinned into slits.
“I am where my leader is. And since Murr is away hunting— well, Sweettooth will have to do.”
Sweettooth nods at him. “Thank you, Bluemoon. Do you think you could go find Murr, actually? We definitely need him to assess the situation.”
“Come on. You’re gonna be the leader of this clan one day, be more assertive yourself.”
“But I—”
“I was just passing through,” Spiderclaw says, first that he’s given his voice since entering the camp. “I didn’t know there was a clan here. I’ll get out of your territory and be on my way.”
“He looks like a kittypet,” Bluemoon notices, and the fact that he doesn’t even address Spiderclaw directly makes his tail lash.
“So what if he is?” Maplenose confronts him. “You got a problem with kittypets, Quack?”
“I’m just observing. It would be good to know where the stranger came from. Anyway,” he turns to the smaller cat: “Is Juniperpaw alright? Do I need to check her for scratches?”
“I didn’t harm her.”
“He didn’t. Spiderclaw isn’t a threat, I swear.”
“Well, if that’s how it is…” Sweettooth takes a moment to think. “Is Spiderclaw himself alright, though? Bluemoon, our medicine cat, can give you a check too if you need it. Be our guest.”
Bluemoon huffs but doesn’t say anything to disagree. Spiderclaw taps his sore paws onto the ground under him, suddenly realizing how long he’s been without care, letting time alone and some marigold heal his scratches, but he refuses to show weakness before the arrogant medicine cat.
“Thank you for the offer, but I wasn’t going to stay for long—”
“But will you stay tonight?” Juniperpaw suddenly asks, her eyes pleading. “You should rest from the journey. I’ll show you my den!”
“Hey! Don’t decide that for yourself—”
“I think that’s alright,” Sweettooth says. “Spiderclaw should stay, at least until Murr comes back. Then we can talk about it more. If you want to join Batclan, we can talk about that too.”
“Thank you, Sweettooth!” Juniperpaw says, before Spiderclaw himself can comprehend the offer. “And fine… If Maplenose is so… worried, he can join us while I’m showing you around the camp.”
Maplenose cuffs her lightly over the ear. “Show some respect to your mentor.”
Juniperpaw wriggles around him and runs into the middle of the clearing.
“Follow me!”
Spiderclaw stands for a moment before moving. He turns towards Maplenose, who’s mumbling something to himself, and can’t help but let out an amused purr again.
“For what it’s worth… Thank you for taking care of her. She does need a caring mentor such as you.”
Maplenose looks over him with surprise, and although he tries not to show it, his tail goes up slightly.
“Whatever… Come on. Welcome to Batclan, Spiderclaw.”
He doesn’t mind staying for a while.