Chapter Text
Feathertail: Pale-skinned, 17-year-old girl with silver-dyed hair and soft, blue eyes; college student, but also part-time fisher to supply for local markets
Stormfur: 17-year-old boy with tan skin, grey-brown hair (like his father), and amber-hinted eyes; works as a trainee lifeguard
Brambleclaw: Tan-skinned, 16-year-old boy with dark brown hair, amber eyes, and scarred skin; student at Tallpine's Secondary School, and also boxes
Tawnypelt: Paler tan-skinned, 17-year-old girl with brown hair (and natural blonde highlights), green eyes, and minimal freckles; college student, but also works at a Café
Squirrelpaw: 14-year-old girl with pale and lightly freckled skin, wavy dark ginger hair, and green eyes; student at Tallpine's Secondary School, and an aspiring boxer
Crowpaw: 15-year-old boy with dark skin, black hair, and dusky blue eyes; student at Tallpine's Secondary School
Twenty-two days until the incident.
The car rolled to a stop in the gravelly bay beside the beach. The engine ticked into silence.
Tawnypelt leaned back achingly, stretching out as much as she could in the cramped driver's seat, arms tangling above her head until shoulders protested. Her spine popped faintly, and a gentle gasp caught in her throat. Her head thudded back against the headrest with a nasally exhale.
She looked a mess, and she knew it.
Work had taken a harsh toll on her. The Café she served at was severely understaffed and constantly busy (that morning, she'd counted nearly fifty cups of coffee made in one hour before she'd grown too distracted). Work, piled on top of the stress of paying the rent for her flat, paying for her college courses, paying to stay alive — well, messy was the only word that came close.
But today was supposed to be different.
The group had invited her out for a lounge at the beach. Tawnypelt could only guess that it was her brother's doing; he was always the one to fret over her wellbeing.
She promised the group that she'd come, and here she was — albeit an hour late.
With a tired fumble, Tawnypelt reached for the handle and pushed the car door open, with a little more effort than usual. She staggered out stiffly, trainers crunching against loose stone.
A salty breeze washed over her, carried from the sea. The air here was always fresher than the air in town, especially when she hadn't visited in a while.
She pushed forward and lifted a knee to rest upon the seawall, conjuring together what little willing strength she had left. Heat briefly flared across her skin before ebbing into a dull warmth, leaving only the gritty bite of sand spittles beneath her.
Tawnypelt pushed herself up with a strained grunt and lifted her head to peer out across the open beach: a stretch of gold sand, broken by heaps of dark, damp rocks. Rays of sunlight caught upon the rippling sea like little, flaming minnows.
A gaggle of people were gathered near the sea-end of the beach, loud enough for Tawnypelt to catch the familiar cadence of her friends' voices. A tugging smirk graced her face.
Stormfur and Brambleclaw raced back and forth across the shoreline, their feet pattering through frothy water, drenched vest-tops clinging wetly to their torsos. Feathertail knelt by a shallow dip in the sand, trapping in the lower half of a squirming, giggling Squirrelpaw. Crowpaw sat nearby with an unimpressed expression.
Tawnypelt whistled.
Squirrelpaw seemed to be the only one to have noticed it, as her head quickly snapped up, ginger curls springing with the sudden movement. She pointed with a pale hand, letting out a shriek of excitement. Feathertail and Crowpaw twisted their heads quickly to glimpse at Tawnypelt.
She hopped down from the seawall, feet sinking into a warm heap of sand, and made her way across the beach at an unhurried pace.
"Tawnypelt!" Squirrelpaw's shrill voice cut across the open space. The younger girl was already scrambling free of the sand pit, stumbling as she half-ran, half-stumbled.
"We thought you'd never show up!" Squirrelpaw bounced on her heels in front of her, emerald eyes dazzling keenly up at the taller girl. Sand clung stubbornly to the crooks of her knees and calves.
Tawnypelt winced inwardly — just a little.
Fingers reached to tuck a strand of stray blonde hair behind an ear, buying herself a second. "I was starting to think that too."
“Work.”
Tawnypelt inhaled deeply. "Mm."
Squirrelpaw tilted her head. Her face flickered with understanding, and it amused Tawnypelt. A girl as young as her couldn't understand such workload yet. “Sorry. I'm glad you could make it, though."
Tawnypelt stifled a yawn. She rolled her shoulder stiffly, careful not to draw attention. She could manage today. She would.
"Brambleclaw's been so excited to see you," Squirrelpaw added. "He's been checking the path every five seconds."
"I bet," Tawnypelt answered dryly. "I just get busy, that's all." She hadn't seen her brother in a hot minute, despite his desperate attempts to catch up.
'When are you free?'
was always met with,
‘I'm busy'
Tawnypelt could almost feel bad.
Feathertail reached them then, brushing sand from her hands. Up close, the silver in her hair caught the sun brilliantly — fresh dye, no doubt.
"You look exhausted," she said gently.
Tawnypelt hummed again. She hoped the pity party would soon end.
An awkward beat passed.
Squirrelpaw's suddenly grabbed Tawnypelt’s wrist. "Come on, sit with us before you fall asleep."
Tawnypelt let herself be dragged. Her feet felt like they were dragging, regardless, like a horrible dead weight.
"You haven't missed much— though you missed us getting icecream! Oh, and you missed Brambleclaw body-slamming Stormfur into the water— Oh, and Crowpaw had a hissy fit because he got splashed by them—"
"It was cold," Crowpaw called flatly as they approached, dark arms already crossing over his chests. He glanced at Tawnypelt with an even sharper look than the one he gave Squirrelpaw. "You're late."
Tawnypelt sucked in a deep breath. “Happy to see you too."
Crowpaw scowled back.
If Tawnypelt could have it her way, she wouldn't have the boy here. She only tolerated him because her friends did. Tawnypelt struggled to understand why people like Squirrelpaw, and even her brother, could surround themselves with a miserable git like himself.
As for Feathertail, Tawnypelt knew that she'd had taken a deep liking to him, and that Crowpaw shared the same feelings; so, that was that.
Jogging up from the shoreline came Stormfur, sombre hair sleek and glistening with water. "Hey, Tawny!" His grin softened. “You okay?"
There it is again.
"I'm fine," Tawnypelt replied automatically, begging herself not to snap too hard. She shrugged Squirrelpaw off at last and dropped to the sand. She let her legs dangle over the sandy dip. "Just tired."
Brambleclaw lingered a step behind Stormfur, hesitating like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to fuss (he wasn't). His amber eyes quickly swept over her.
Tawnypelt met his gaze and swallowed.
Why did he always look at her like that, with that horrible longing, that fear that she might just vanish? Tawnypelt hated it.
The others soon drifted back to what they were doing before. Squirrelpaw was dragging both Stormfur and Feathertail off to the wet rocks, pressing over the fact she wanted to collect some crabs. Crowpaw begrudgingly followed.
Brambleclaw stayed.
"You haven't texted in a while.”
Tawnypelt bit the inside of her cheek. "I was busy."
"You're always busy," Brambleclaw huffed as he sat down opposite her. His broad shoulders were peppered with fading bruises. Boxing, again.
"When you get a job and a bloody home to pay for, you'll understand," she snapped, then lowered her voice to add, "and college. That's hell."
"It wouldn't hurt to just call me sometimes,” Brambleclaw's voice shifted into something more helpless. "Mum really misses you. I do too. I'm still not used to you not being at home."
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Tawnypelt's glazed, green eyes. She offered a soft, “sorry.”
That seemed to ease him enough. He pulled himself closer, near but not touching, knees drawn up to his belly. “You're staying for a while, right?”
Tawnypelt nodded.
Silence settled. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. The tide spat and hissed as it crept up the sand and retreated. Wind brushed and a gull soared.
"What's this about mum?" Tawnypelt gently inquired. She finally shifted to face him.
"She just misses you." Brambleclaw shrugged. "Wishes you were still living with us — she thought that, after dad died..."
Tawnypelt felt a pang of something rip through her, a twist in her chest, a prickle in her stomach.
”… you’d come and live with us."
Her fists clenched tightly, knuckles paling. “No. I'm comfortable on my own.”
He gave her a look.
"Okay. Not comfortable." Tawnypelt amended, waving him off dismissively. "But I hate to think of how mum would look at me if I came back, after leaving to live with someone as horrible as dad."
"You didn't know what he was really like, none of us did." Her brother's hand itched by his side, like he wanted to clutch her shoulder reassuringly. Tawnypelt awaited that touch, but it never came, and she felt slightly disappointed. "Tawny, you don't have to do this on your own."
"I kind of do."
Brambleclaw shifted. "You could come home for a bit, right? I won't mind if you take my bed. I'll take the floor."
She almost snorted. "No. I'll get too comfortable."
"In my bed?"
Tawnypelt couldn't contain a snicker. "No, at home."
"You still call it home," Brambleclaw pointed out.
Damn you.
Tawnypelt sighed.
Somewhere in front, Stormfur whooped as Squirrelpaw cried about pinched fingers. Feathertail's voice cut in sharply, telling them both to be careful as they climbed the damp stones. Crowpaw just watched with a disgruntled look.
"I have Rowanclaw to think about." Her voice fell to a gentle octave. Brambleclaw noted the lilt of affection in her tone, and he smiled.
"Fine." He nudged her foot lightly with his own. "Just don't disappear anymore, okay?"
"Alright."
Tawnypelt was content, but she could sense that her younger brother wasn't yet. “What's wrong?"
Brambleclaw rummaged through the pocket of his shorts — scraps of receipts, jingling house keys, a feather — before taking out a small roll of folded notes.
Her brows knit instantly. "No."
"Yes." Brambleclaw nudged it towards her.
"No!" Tawnypelt shifted away from him. "I can't keep sponging off you."
A grunt left Brambleclaw's lips. "We have more than enough at home. It's for your rent. Come on, Tawny, take it."
The girl squirmed, fingers tingling to take it. Eventually, she did, snatching it up before pushing it into her own pocket. "I hate you."
Brambleclaw chuckled and slumped back on his wide-palmed hands. She let herself mirror him, melting deeper into the beach's dust as the warmth soaked through her heavy clothes.
For now, this was enough.
Feathertail stared at the picture perched on the rickety shelf. Her brother was there, still bright in his youth. Her father stood beside him — he looked happier, somehow.
A girl stood off to the side. She wore a lopsided smile. Feathertail knew it was forced. Pale brown hair fell into her face, wind-ruffled, and a fishing rod was clutched too tightly in her hands.
She rolled over and closed her eyes.