Chapter Text
Death had, once again, come to Barrenclan.
It had not been the first time that week this familiar massacre had broken out again, nor the first when I’d felt that same pair of antlers or crooked canine teeth sink deep into my neck. I’d been becoming well-acquainted, recently, with doom and destruction– getting good at identifying the corpses of cats I loved despite their mutilations. How could I ever have not recognized them: these cats I’d spent my whole life beside? My family? My Clanmates? My whole life lay torn apart at my paws, piece after piece snatched away.
I woke from visions of blood — those cursed eerie blue eyes flashing in the dark, full of vacant intent to ruin — to my pounding heart and a soft darkness. I heard a familiar shaky breathing before I felt the gentle poking at my side.
“Hey, um— Pinepaw?”
“Mmm. Hi, Corm,” I mumbled drowsily through a yawn, rubbing at my eyes with a paw. An icy shiver rippled through my body— lingering remnants of the nightmare world. Knowing, logically, that they weren’t real never seemed to make them any less disturbing. “Wazzup?”
“I need to— I need to talk to you.” His voice was tight. “Please? Right now.”
I shifted, peering up to examine his face, even though it had looked fuzzy through the lingering film of sleep. Gosh, he really didn’t look good— his handsome dark face, all twisted up, one pawstep away from bursting into tears. Before I could think, my paw immediately jumped to his. “Hey… you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I’ll— I’ll feel better once we talk.”
“Okay. Then...” I rose to my paws, spine prickling with some faint uneasy dread. “… um, I’m right behind you.”
I followed him, expecting to just leave the den and settle down outside, but he’d kept going. When the two of us reached the edge of camp, he stopped, then— though even that hadn’t seemed to be enough to calm his jitters. I’d been trying not to get too anxious before he could even say anything, but his tail had been flicking from side to side the whole way in this restless way I’d never seen from him before. His fur, spiked all over; he couldn’t meet my eyes… what on earth could have possibly been scaring Cormorantpaw this bad?
“What’s wrong?” I repeated– which felt so silly, those tiny simple words in the face of whatever huge distress was written all over his face. My gentle prodding hadn’t helped, though– had only made him flinch. His face crumpled more, and I moved my paw atop his, trying for a smile. “Hey. Corm. It’s just me.”
That only earned a more crumpled expression from him— is that the problem? that it’s me?— but then he’d swallowed and nodded. He drew open his jaws to speak slowly, like it hurt.
“Pinepaw,” he started, haltingly, “I need to tell you something. I… it’s bad.”
“Okay?”
“I saw a murder,” he forced out, like the words burnt his throat. “Last night.”
My blood ran cold. He’d tensed up, completely, wholly serious. “What?”
“Of crows!— uh, sorry— a murder of crows,” he finished.
I exhaled a breathy laugh of relief. “Oh, okay. Stars. Uh, okay. That’s better than what my mind jumped to, I guess.”
He exhaled, frowning. “Uh… it-it’s not better. The crows— I-I recognized them.”
I wrinkled my muzzle, flashing him a quizzical look. Huh? He noted it and shook his head at himself, huffing apologetically. “Sorry— I’m sorry, there’s a lot I have to tell you.”
“Okay? I’m listening.”
He nodded, swallowing hard, seemingly bolstered by my words. “Um. Those crows I saw, the murder of crows— I’d hoped maybe they were a coincidence, but just… some part of me knew. I don’t know why but I’m– I’m really sure of it. They’re from… from the group where I was born: Defiance.”
That rung a bell, though I couldn’t quite place from where— something I’d overheard. Egrettail’s hushed voice; Corm’s spiking in volume, more distressed than I’d ever heard him. And even now, still, he’d spoken the name like a death sentence. His shoulders had shook, closing his eyes hard and pinning his ears back. His breathing had gotten shakier. I leaned in.
“It’s a horrible place, Pinepaw. Full of animals who don’t do anything but kill and fight, and my father Thrasher was one of them…” Cormorantpaw went into detail from there, describing his siblings, how they’d been pit against each other— lives constantly on the line. My heart ached for him, and I couldn’t hold back a surge of anger, a fire rising with every new injustice he recounted. His eyes kept flicking up to me, like he wanted to make sure I hadn’t walked away; he looked desperate for me to hear him, so I listened as best I could, though my sorrow for him only grew.
The way he’d lost his sibling… I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if I ever lost Asphodelpaw or Daffodilpaw, especially in such an awful way. The thought raised a lump in my throat.
“Oh, Corm, that’s… that’s awful,” I managed, once he seemed to have gotten it all out and hung his head. I couldn’t hold it in much longer. “I’m— I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.”
He didn’t respond, just hummed a noncommittal noise as I watched him fight back tears.
The pain glittering in his eyes as he watched me, with ragged breathing, made me move to press my forehead to his. “Listen. Defiance is far away from us, now, okay?”
He shook his head vigorously with a sob, quickly pulling away from the contact. “No—”
“They— they can’t hurt you anymore—“
“No, no, no, no — you don’t understand. That’s the worst part, Pinepaw, that’s— that’s what’s really bad about all this,” Cormorant whimpered out in a hoarse breaking voice, face twisted in pain. “Those crows— they know Egrettail and I are here. I don’t know how, but I know they’re Deepdark’s crows.” The conviction in his voice chilled me. “We came to Barrenclan— Egret and I— because nothing ever came here. So when months passed and no one came after us, we thought we were safe, but— those crows wouldn’t come out here without a reason, right? They’re Deepdark’s crows. They wouldn’t fly like that unless they were tracking down something.”
“Tracking?” As he’d gone into the details, my breathing had been picked up at some point, coming faster and faster in my throat. I’m only now understanding the panic— the urgency— in his face. “Wait— wait, wait— so Defiance knows we’re here— but you’re saying Defiance could be coming here at any time? They could be coming now?” I shrilled.
“M… maybe.” He frowned deeply. “I… I really d— I don’t know what I think for sure all the time, but the thing is, when I saw those crows, I was sure. So yes. Yes, I think they’re coming. Maybe not yet, but s—soon. But… that’s why I’m telling you, you all have to leave!”
“Wait, so…” Bile rose in the back of my throat, along with a strange sensation of something I couldn’t quite name— an achy feeling, like a claw to my heart. Betrayal, maybe. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner—?”
“I— I’m sorry. It’s just… so much, you know?” I do know. The world seemed to spin on its axis, now that he’d told me this. “But, Pinepaw, living with you in Barrenclan changed me. You changed me,” he insisted, tearfully. “And— I can’t risk losing you. Or any cat. Even if I– I’m wrong.”
I’d stared at him, speechless and reeling for only a moment, before I nodded vigorously. Some panicked adrenaline had sputtered to life inside me. “No. No, you’re right.”
”Please.” He took a shaky breath, unshed tears now beginning to spill as he stepped forward to gaze deeply at me. The terror in his eyes was hard to bear. “Please don’t hate me. Believe me, Pinepaw,” he choked out. “I—I swear. I just don’t want a-anyone else to die.”
You both need to go. There’s no time; time is crucial, now, Pinepaw— “I don’t— I-I’m glad you’re telling me this, now. This doesn’t change stuff between us, alright? I…”
Distractedly, I touched my tail to his side. It wasn’t true, not exactly, but in that moment, I knew this hadn’t changed the basic fact of what was most important: our love for each other. I couldn’t summon up any words more comforting than that, because the fate of my Clan just dropped onto our shoulders now weighed so heavily on my back, so that had to be enough, for now.
“We just— first, right away, we need to tell Mallowstar.” My voice came hoarse in my throat. The dreams, the images that won’t stop plaguing my brain— have they all been predictions? Warnings? Was there any time left? “Right now.”
Cormorantpaw nodded, solemn-faced. I tapped my tail to his dark shoulder, again– my heart pounding, electric with sudden terror. “‘Kay, c’mon, let’s go. Quickly.”
🌹
Soon, I stood in the center of a makeshift circle, at his side, and I couldn't stop my urgent babble as the Clan’s eyes burnt into me. Every cat (excepting the kittens, tucked safe in the nursery) stood watchful and silent, only now becoming aware of the lives in their paws. “And so… that’s Cormorantpaw’s story. It’s the truth. Now you, uh, know. And it’s… really important we all leave real soon, absolutely, as fast as we can. If Mallowstar will lead us there. We-we have to leave now.”
Silence. Calm before the storm.
“Is this a joke?” Beeface had been the first cat to speak up after the final words had left Corm’s mouth, our premonition of doom hanging thick in the sweltering air.
My heart hammered in my ears, still, as I surveyed the crowd, trying to gauge my Clanmates’ reactions. Egrettail looked the most concerned of all, her brow darkened with a deeply disturbed look. Blacknose and Mallowstar seemed to be having an entirely silent exchange, tails tangled together as they stared anxiously into each other’s eyes. My mother and sisters were in various states of shock, silent, all their widened eyes on me. Beeface looked skeptical, her mouth teetering on the edge of a mocking grin, but something in her eyes told me that even she didn’t quite completely believe her own dismissal. And, ugh, Cootstorm— Cootstorm, of course, glared viciously over at us with tiny pupils and a venomous outrage, like we’d brought this up with the express purpose of ruining her day. I’d built up a pretty solid resistance to these patented looks throughout my apprenticeship, by necessity, but this one twisting up her face had breached new, concerning ground. She looked furious enough to turn Cormorantpaw and I into a poultice.
“Like,” Beeface followed up. “This has to be a joke.”
“C’monnn, ‘course it is. Like, no offense but the healer’s den might be getting to you a little, Pinepaw, ‘cuz you’re kinda starting to sound a little like your mentor,” Plumstripe scoffed, with a dismissive wave of her paw. “Like, ’doomsday, doomsday! Fiery destruction!’ Who am I?”
And while I’d of course resented this Cootstorm comparison (to put it mildly), I felt the need to internally acknowledge the twisted irony of this miracle: the day had come! Of course Beeface and Plumstripe were able to only finally agree on something, now, when it actually mattered and everyone’s lives were on the line; of course, they were able to agree on not believing the truth. Are you kidding me? I’m trying to save us all!! I’d wanted to yell (or howl at the top of my lungs in frustration), but I hadn’t.
“It’s not a joke or anything!” I replied a tad indignantly, with as much Cypressfoot-esque infinite patience injected into my tone as I could muster. Corm echoed this with his usual solemnity, wordlessly shaking his head. Could they not see the fur spiked up along my back? The deep somber certainty in our eyes? It’s obvious! “Why would I ever joke about something like this?”
“Attention?” was Beeface’s tutting reply, completely serious. Was my eye twitching? She couldn’t possibly be serious.
“Hey,” Mallowstar scolded. “Pinepaw is telling us important new info, Beeface, and we’re going to listen.”
“Of course. Well, I for one, Pinepaw, don’t think you’re joking,” a caustic voice spoke up, and can you believe I’d almost said “thank you”-- happy for the support— before I’d processed the voice’s owner being Cootstorm. “No. You’ve always been dead serious about running from Clan responsibility.”
“Cootstorm,” two voices chided in unison — Blacknose and another, one I’d been surprised to hear.
“That is not fair,” my mother growled out, bristling at my mentor, her eyes softening almost imperceptibly when they return to me.
Cootstorm — being Cootstorm — remained undeterred, huffing up a storm. “Oh, spare me! In what world is Pinepaw—”
A high yowl cut the air between us, silencing every cat, and all eyes turned to Mallowstar. “Cootstorm, that’s enough,” he growled out, tail swishing uneasily from side to side. He cast an anxious glance to Blacknose, who nodded, and seemed to make a decision. “Pinepaw, Cormorantpaw: the Clan’s safety is my priority. If we’re all in danger from Defiance, then we must leave, immediately. We can’t risk it.” I huffed a huge sigh of relief at the words and Blacknose’s following “yes”, yet Mallowstar kept going. “But just our agreement’s not enough. A decision like this is the Clan’s to make. Everyone else– cats other than Cootstorm– quickly, what do you think?”
“Egrettail?” Blacknose turned to look at her, to which the she-cat bit her lip.
“Well. I’d noticed those same crows and I hadn’t thought they were dangerous—”
“See? See?” Cootstorm cut in, bitter and loud; and in the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Nightberry rolling her own — with such force it just about worried me.
“— at the time, but, above all, I trust Cormorantpaw’s instincts. So I’m a yes, leave now.” Her voice fell in volume, then, and out came a murmur shrouded in dark layers of grief. “Defiance has taken enough from us, already; I won’t let them hurt any of you.”
Cormorantpaw nodded to her, his eyes widening as if he’d just truly seen her for the first time.
“Pinepaw, wait,” came a soft, halting voice, and I turned to see my mother padding to my side, staring deep into my eyes. Her brows were drawn as she searched my expression. “Is— are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” I replied instantly, nodding fervently. “I’m sure. I trust Cormorantpaw.” Perhaps my faith was stupid, considering the magnitude of what I just learned he’d been keeping from me, but it hadn’t changed. I’d trust him with my life. I felt his grateful gaze at me in my fur, a faint warming glow through the fog of numb panic.
Slugpelt swallowed and nodded, slower than I had, before turning to face the others. “I trust my son. If he says we need to go, I’m going with him.” Daffodilpaw padded over after our mother, Asphodelpaw close behind her.
“Us too,” Asphodel spoke up for them both, head held high. Daffodilpaw nodded with support so fiercely and fervently she almost toppled herself over.
“Oh, how heartwarming. So you’re all traitors,” Cootstorm spoke up dryly.
“Cootstorm!” Nightberry’s scolding mew rang out, acidic and scorching.
“What??”
“Hush, already! Don’t you see? We all are dead if the wolves are allowed in our dens; we’ve come too close already! Now is not the time for sheep’s clothing, or stupid bickering,” Nightberry hissed, with an icy glare in her healer daughter’s direction that made me glad I wasn’t who she was upset with. “Cypressfoot and I — being sensible— are yes’es; who else do we need?”
“I’m a yes as well,” Redpelt answered, padding over to press her side supportively to Cypressfoot, who purred.
“Well, it’s just about decided, isn’t it?”
“Hang on!” Beeface’s indignant whine rang out. “What about me?”
“Or me,” Plumstripe sniffed. “We haven’t gotten a chance.”
“And?” I urged.
“Just– Mom, Dad, you knew about all of this ‘Defiance’ stuff?” Beeface pressed. She didn’t seem to know how to feel. Mallowstar and Blacknose looked to each other and heaved a sigh in unison.
“Not everything, dear. But…”
“… enough to know that they’re a fight we can’t win, and we need to go.” Blacknose nodded decisively. “Now.”
“You said Defiance is coming from the East?” Egrettail raised her head to nod at Blacknose.
“Then we’ll head for the western border,” Mallowstar announced, not a shadow of doubt in his voice. Just like that, I felt like I could breathe again.
“Girls? Are you coming?”
Beeface and Plumstripe seemed cowed by this united front displayed by their parents, eyes widening in tandem. It was Plumstripe who gave in first, nodding mutely. “Okay. ‘Course I’ll– I’ll go,” Beeface said, a moment after, before a low hissing like a rattlesnake made her ears prick up. A jagged shadowy shape moved to the center of our makeshift circle and erupted into a furious, humorless cackle of laughter.
“Incredible! Incredible, I– I cannot believe you all!” Cootstorm hissed, raking an accusatory glare around the circle of her Clanmates as her claws tore into at the dirt. Her pupils were tiny dots, her fangs gritted together with such fervor it looked painful. Blacknose and Mallowstar met this with determined expressions, gracious enough to only exchange covert frustrated glances. “I mean, Mallowstar, really — you of all cats! Does our Clan’s repentance mean nothing to you? Our– our history?”
“Cootstorm,” Cypressfoot’s gentle, soothing voice rang out; despite herself, my mentor’s head twitched, eyes shifting to warily look at her. “Honey. Listen.”
Nightberry seemed to speak for all of us, eyes piercing into her daughter: “if we choose to stay here now, there will be no Barrenclan cats left whatsoever. Our history will just be a bunch of bones. That’s it.” Exactly. We were all doing this because we loved our Clan (or our Clanmates) so much, couldn’t she see that?
“It’s true,” Egrettail murmured, half-whispering to herself, with a violent shudder. Had she seen some extermination of this scale happen before, in Defiance? I wondered. Not just in a dream? The plain horror on her face was an awful reminder, so stark it woke me up— jolting me back into action.
“Mallowstar, we—we really don’t have time for this,” I croaked. “They could be coming. That’s a consensus, isn’t it?”
Asphodelpaw nodded, getting to her paws and swishing her tail back and forth with rare nervous energy. “Well — most of us, anyway.”
Out of the corner of our eyes, we cast one collective look back to Cootstorm— her claws still lodged deep into the ground, still frozen with fury— then flicked them politely away.
Cormorantpaw’s gaze wouldn’t leave Egrettail, who padded to hover right next to him. “Pinepaw’s right. We have to gather the kits and go, now.”
“Yes. The kits— they’ll need to be carried,” Blacknose said. “We can do it in shifts—“
“I’ll take one,” erupting offers rang out, overlapping each other— “I’ll take another!” And from then on, we descended into quiet chaos— an anxious chatter that rose restless like the desert heat. Our families began to break off, bunching together into traveling groups, discussing who would take what kits and offering themselves for our two elders to lean on. Barrenclan had moved remarkably fast then, gathering their lives up, like their tails were on fire.
When the kits’ scruffs are in their designated mouths and a few key traveling components had been secured (water in moss for emergencies, a little bedding), it should have been time to go. And even though— despite the vicious creatures probably hunting us down at that very moment, as we spoke and breathed breaths that could be our last— we hovered. We waited, in a still circle. I stood right there, next to my mother and sisters, like a good little apprentice. And, gosh, had I wanted to just scream “Mallowstar, what’s taking so long?”, but I knew. I wasn’t a fool; I saw what was really keeping us in camp. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
“Stop! Stop!” Cootstorm’s howls grew more panicked by the second, and only a few cats stopped in their tracks when she reached a fever pitch: “STOP!!!”
And how strange — seeing her so powerless and ineffective — I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed it, but I also couldn’t ignore how I felt really kind of bad for her. It was giddy butterflies of twisted glee and a deep ache of grief in my chest all at once; loudest of all, though, was my racing heartbeat. Knowing keenly just how much we had to flee.
“Just come on. Cootstorm. We’re heading out,” Mallowstar invited her, sternly. He sounded almost apathetic, but as I looked closer— were those unshed tears shining in his eyes? “And so are you; I command you not just as your leader, but as a friend.”
“Friend, ha! How— how dare you call yourself my leader, right now, Mallowstar? I am a cat of Barrenclan; and we— you all are Barrenclan! We cannot just abandon our entire territory on the— off the — going off of some kit’s hunch!” Cootstorm exclaimed, almost too furious to speak coherently through all her spitting.
“Pinepaw hasn’t been a kit for a long damn time and you know it, Cootstorm,” Nightberry snapped. She was all bristled up, and her eyes looked icy. “You’re the only cat throwing a tantrum here and you’re too old to be making this kind of scene, so let’s go. Out of here.”
Cootstorm shook her head, chuckling humorlessly to herself for a moment. “Stars. None of you really do know anything about loyalty, do you? Especially you, Mother.”
“Oh, not loyalty! Don’t you dare speak to me about loyalty! Right now, you are the least loyal to all of us, and yourself! You fool— don’t you get it? Why you’re the only cat choosing to stay?” Nightberry spat out, literal saliva flying, with a ferocity so intense the gathered cats start to shift uncomfortably around us. Her unsheathed claws were carving jagged valleys in the cracked earth, long and deep enough to rival her daughter’s. “I gave you your life, Cootstorm— I know what that’s worth— come with us, and you’ll keep it—!”
“Shut up, you old hag,” Cootstorm hissed, with a hard swallow before charging forward. “You know, Cypressfoot was wrong— I am not like you, Mother. Not at all. Because I am a loyal Barrenclan healer, before I have a right to any other cat. And I am staying exactly where I am.”
“Great fucking Stars! We get it! And, Cootstorm, if you’re so determined to suffer, you’re welcome to die here!” Nightberry screeched. The moment the words flew from her gritted teeth, she’d frozen, eyes immediately swelling to a massive size. I knew, in that moment, I had just seen her do something she was going to regret forever.
Silence fell. Nightberry’s scream seemed to echo. The tension felt stifling, nearly unbearable, and I wanted to break it, but what could any cat say that wouldn’t just make this harder? Finally, Cootstorm let out a long, low, dismissive hiss.
“Fine. I will. Even if none of you choose to do what’s right beside me.”
“Stars. Stars, Cootstorm. You’re — you’re making a huge mistake,” Nightberry muttered, half to herself; reeling. Her normally-icy eyes were as huge as boulders and absolutely unbearable to look at. She took a stumbling step back, then another, ‘til she reached a waiting Cypressfoot. Tears shine in her old, wise eyes as she pulled Nightberry into an embrace, heaving an exasperated shaking sigh into her scruff. “I can’t believe this.”
“Sis, that’s… you can’t,” Redpelt said hoarsely. Blacknose and her stepped forward, moving to stand before a bristling Cootstorm. “Don’t do this.”
“I can. And I will.”
“Cootstorm, sister… please, don’t do this,” Blacknose added, pleadingly. Her voice had lost its usual dreaminess and given way to a ragged, devastated whisper. “You’re punishing yourself for a crime that barely any living cats remember…”
“Exactly,” she bit back. “No living cats, because our descendants’ selfishness led to the other Clans’ extermination!”
“And you’d have your own selfishness do the same to us?” Blacknose retorted, shaking her head. “I— your nieces and nephews—“
“— will be traitors to their Clan’s history.”
“Coot, please.” Sobs wracked Redpelt’s body as she broke their distance to press herself to her sister’s side. “It doesn’t matter. We’re what matters, okay…? You’re all that matters. Just— please, come with us. Please. I’m n—I’m not going to leave you here.”
Cootstorm’s brow contorted in a rare moment of what looked like remorse. For a second, a tiny sprig of hope I hadn’t realized was there blossomed forth in my chest.
Maybe she’ll see reason. She can’t do this to them. There’s no way—
Then my seedling died right there, a small flame blown out in one puff. “No!”
Cootstorm backed off, moving away backwards from Redpelt, fur spiking out at all angles.
“Cootstorm, just—“
“No— go, then, if you’re all so set on it! Leave me! Go on!”
Overlapping pleading, from all different Clanmates— Mallowstar included— met her rage. Redpelt’s shoulders had shook in a way I’d never seen her shake before: “you can’t do this—“
“Coot—“
“Please just—“
“I said no! What, are you deaf? All of you! Get lost!” she spat viciously, arching her back. “I know what you’re doing— you’re trying to tempt me, but I won’t give in!”
But when I surveyed said “tempters”, I couldn’t see any of the shadowy conniving cats Cootstorm seemed to see surrounding her. All I saw was two sisters and two mothers, in various stages of heartbreak at how resigned to suffering they’d watched their loved one become, watching the implosion from a too-close distance… and a familiar ache filled my lungs for them. Cootstorm’s face as Redpelt had sobbed into her fur… it was like she didn’t notice we were even there, how her sister was begging. She couldn’t hear a word we said.
I think about this moment a lot, to be honest with you— like, how maybe we could’ve tried harder. I guess we could’ve stayed a little longer. And it’s easy to be a cat listening to this story judging the decisions we made, then; it’s not so easy to be the cat living them, making them.
I couldn’t tell you exactly why we left her. The resistance, yes. Our own self-preservation instincts, absolutely. But I think more of it was just the shame. All that old, scarring shame of what the Clan had become standing before us— like an old gnarled tree rotten from the inside by a fungus— it was just too much to bear, staring dead in its twisted face. If we stayed here, this was all the future we had left.
And she kept yelling “GO!”
So, off we went.
I broke out from where I’d sat at my mother’s side, and I was the first cat to walk right out of camp. I led us, for that first step. Not Mallowstar. Me. For some reason. And I was terrified as I did it, too. Terrified! What if I’m making a huge mistake? But the biggest part of me knew there was no way— no way— I was. This felt like a real long-time-coming type of thing— maybe the most right-feeling decision I’d ever made in my life.
And when I turned to look over my shoulder, Slugpelt was right there, smiling at me; all the others, just moments behind.
“Go! I’m the only true Barrenclan cat! It’s only me, who will honor our…” her voice, acrid and broken, eventually began to fade out behind us.
That was the last any of us ever saw of Cootstorm, looking over our shoulders. Her brow furrowed in a childish scowl. Her looming frame shrinking smaller and smaller, until her tiny jagged shape was swallowed entirely into the distant haze of the desert.