Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wind howling in his ears, Crowpaw pushed his legs to the limit. The feeling of his muscles working, his feet flying, and his heart hammering against his ribs filled him with a powerful satisfaction. 

He was a WindClan cat. This was what he was made to do— to run. 

His paws slammed and pushed off of the firm, well-trodden earth. Exhilaration buzzed at the ends of his charcoal-grey fur as the warm breeze whipped around him and the sweet scent of heather-tinged air filled his lungs. Although Crowpaw's body was in forceful motion, his thoughts were quiet, and the entire world around him seemed still.

Then a hare exploded from the gorse in front of him, and Crowpaw nearly tripped over his own paws in surprise.

“After it!” Mudclaw’s harsh yowl echoed out from some distance behind him.

Shrugging off his shock, Crowpaw surged forward, managing to regain his former speed after a few heartbeats as he sprinted after the hare. But he’d already been running at nearly full-pelt before, and his legs were growing tired. The hare also had a precious few moments of a headstart thanks to his surprise at its appearance. If Crowpaw had any chance of catching it, he had to do it now, before it was able to truly outpace him.

The hare feinted left, but Crowpaw was well aware of prey’s wily tricks. He didn’t fall for its attempt to lose him, instead remaining just behind its bobbing white tail as it darted and weaved. Crowpaw’s chest burned and heaved with pants, but he shoved away his growing exhaustion. He just had to hold on a little longer, allow the hare to make one wrong move, and then it would be his.

The moment came just in time. The hare attempted a feint again, this time dodging right for just a heartbeat before springing to the left. But its darting gaze had betrayed its true intent, and Crowpaw leapt to the left just as the hare did. 

Time seemed to slow as he went in for the kill. He was practically on top of it now. Crowpaw’s lips curled back in a snarl of satisfaction as his paws met short, brown fur. He stretched his forelegs forward further, wanting to dig his claws into the hare’s flesh— to grab it and wrestle it into submission. But instead, he found the coarse pelt slipping away from between his claws until he was holding only air. How was it escaping him? 

Confusion and dismay building, Crowpaw made a final, desperate swipe for one of its long hind-legs. 

The hare dived into a tunnel Crowpaw hadn’t seen, and Crowpaw hit the dirt. Bright pain flashed across his muzzle as he slammed into the earth, tumbling head over tail again and again, spurned on by all the momentum he’d gained from the frantic chase.

“Fox-dung! Scat-eating! Hare-brained, stupid, stupid hare!” Crowpaw spluttered a steady stream of curses as the world tumbled around him.

Once everything was no longer spinning dizzyingly, Crowpaw staggered back to his paws, his pelt bristling and his tail lashing with fury. His whole pelt was filthy now, covered in dust. There were fresh bruises all over his body. He’d wrenched a paw, and a trickle of blood dripped out of his throbbing nose. But, that was nothing compared to the frustration and anger that pounded within him, making Crowpaw’s blood roil.

That catch should have been his. It was his. He was so close!

Snarling furiously, Crowpaw slashed his claws across a nearby strand of heather, tearing off a paw-ful of the delicate purple blossoms and crushing them against the dirt.

The sound of thrumming paw-steps alerted him to his approaching mentor. Swiping away the bit of blood on his nose with a quick flick of his paw, Crowpaw turned to face Mudclaw. 

Mudclaw’s bright amber eyes, stark against his dark, mottled-tabby face, bore into Crowpaw. The disappointment and frustration in his gaze was glaringly obvious.

“You missed,” Mudclaw said flatly. “And it was right there.”

Crowpaw’s claws unsheathed, and he dug them into the ground as defensiveness surged through him.

“I thought this was a border patrol. I didn’t realize I was supposed to be hunting,” Crowpaw grumbled, moving to brush past Mudclaw.

Mudclaw’s face creased in an irritated frown, and he whipped his tail out in front of Crowpaw to halt him in his tracks.

“Okay, but the Clan can always use more prey. So, when the opportunity presents itself right in front of you—”

“You ordered me to show you how I run. I ran,” Crowpaw snapped, the fur on the back of his neck rising as his anger grew. “We’re patrolling the border. You didn’t tell me to hunt. How did you expect me to be prepared—”

Mudclaw barked out a short scoff of humorless laughter, cutting Crowpaw off.

“Oh, so when a hare practically throws itself into your claws, you just toss it away?” Mudclaw sneered.

Crowpaw ground his teeth together in frustration.

“I didn’t say—”

“Oh no, what you’re saying is quite obvious, Crowpaw,” Mudclaw interrupted with a growl, his eyes narrowing. “What you’re saying is that you need me to hold your paw and tell you when and how to hunt for the Clan like you’re some kind of kit fresh out of the nursery, and not an apprentice six moons into their training! You should practically be a warrior, but what kind of warrior can’t anticipate the needs of his Clan?!”

Crowpaw’s jaw fell open in shock at how unfair Mudclaw was being. He missed one catch, and now Mudclaw was saying that meant he didn’t care about WindClan and wasn’t ready to be a warrior?! He couldn’t believe it!

Actually, I can believe it. Mudclaw is the most impossible cat to please in the whole forest!

“I almost had it,” Crowpaw snarled.

“‘Almost’ catches no prey.” Mudclaw’s scornful gaze flickered over Crowpaw’s pelt. “Obviously.”

Crowpaw clenched his jaws together until his fangs ached, every hair on his pelt vibrating with rage. He wanted to yowl in fury at Mudclaw, or even lash out, knocking away his mentor’s tail that was still blocking his way with a slap of his paw. But he was saved from the possibility of doing anything too rabbit-brained when the long grass rustled and the rest of their patrol, Onewhisker and Whitetail, came padding out. 

Onewhisker’s gaze drifted over Crowpaw and Mudclaw, taking in the scene.

“No hare?” Onewhisker asked.

His jaw still clenched shut, Crowpaw shook his head. He didn’t yet trust himself to speak without spewing curses at Mudclaw.

“Aw. Bad luck,” Onewhisker said, blinking at Crowpaw sympathetically. “You were real close too. I’m sure you’ll get it next time.”

Crowpaw’s pelt began to rise again. He didn’t need Onewhisker’s sympathy.

Mudclaw snorted derisively, turning away from the patrol and pointing himself back in the direction of camp.

“He should have noticed it approaching a warren,” Mudclaw said from over his shoulder, tossing the words back carelessly.

Crowpaw stalked after his mentor, his fur still spiked.

Maybe I would have known what to look for if you told me, instead of just yowling at me all the time! I didn’t even think hares burrowed, so why would it go into a tunnel?!

Crowpaw fumed silently the entire trek back to camp. Even the sight of the rising sun lighting the heather-swathed moorland up in brilliant gold and rich purple as the morning wore on, wasn’t enough to pull him from his bad mood. Although it was still early and the air still relatively cool, Crowpaw could already tell it was going to be another terribly hot day based on the power of the sunlight warming his dark pelt.

As if things aren’t already miserable enough as is.

Crowpaw’s muzzle was still throbbing, and as they walked, blood resumed dripping from his nostrils.

Whitetail blinked at him in concern.

“Crowpaw, you’re bleeding!” she said.

Crowpaw glanced away, swiping the red off of his face with his paw again.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

Whitetail sent him another uncertain glance from the corners of her eyes but didn’t say anything else.

Crowpaw perked up slightly as they crested a hill, and their camp came into view at the base of the slope before them. The gorse that protected the shallow hollow was in full blossom, and the yellow flowers swayed in the breeze. Crowpaw’s ears pricked as he caught the sound of soft hymns sung by the elders drifting over to him on the wind. In the gaps between the gorse, his Clanmates swarmed about like ants in camp. It was now late morning, so the patrols that normally went out before dawn were returning to take their midday rest prior to the start of the evening patrolling.

Everyone in Crowpaw’s patrol seemed eager to return to share tongues and prey with their Clanmates; they all picked up the pace, half-trotting and half-running the rest of the way to camp. Crowpaw winced as he jostled his wrenched paw, but he didn’t slow. He was right on Mudclaw’s tail as they streamed through the gorse tunnel and into camp.

Whitetail and Onewhisker peeled off right away, headed straight towards the fresh-kill pile and meowing greetings to Runningbrook as the queen watched her three kits wrestle together in front of the nursery. 

Although Crowpaw wanted nothing more right now than to also excuse himself from Mudclaw’s presence, he knew that his mentor would throw a fit if he didn’t first wait to be dismissed— especially since Mudclaw was already annoyed with him because of the hare. Crowpaw couldn’t push his luck if he wanted any chance of finally escaping this seemingly never-ending apprenticeship. 

Stifling a sigh, Crowpaw went trailing obediently after Mudclaw as he headed to Tallstar to give him their report from the patrol.

Their leader was sitting next to two senior warriors, Sorrelshine and Wrenflight, purring with them as they shared a hare together. Tallstar’s long, thin black-and-white tail was wrapped neatly around his paws, his head inclined towards Wrenflight as she talked emphatically about a hawk she’d caught the other day.

“...It was going after a rabbit, but as it dived, I leaped!” Wrenflight said excitedly, miming a swipe at the air. “I snatched it right before it could get its prey, and then Rushtail snagged the rabbit! Two for one!”

Sorrelshine made an appreciative ‘Ooo’ noise while Tallstar purred indulgently.

“That sounds quite impressive,” he said.

Wrenflight gave Tallstar’s shoulder an affectionate nudge with her muzzle.

“And, I didn’t even need you there to catch the hawk for me this time, big brother,” she said, her gaze shimmering teasingly.

“Oh I don’t think you’ve needed me to catch anything for you in a very long time, Wrenflight,” Tallstar purred.

Mudclaw pointedly cleared his throat before the conversation could continue, and Tallstar and the two warriors turned their attention onto the deputy.

“Good day, Mudclaw,” Tallstar said, nodding at him politely. “How was your patrol?”

“The borders are quiet,” Mudclaw reported. “Minor dog scent near the barn, but nothing to be concerned about. And I checked the creek beds like you asked. The water is running quite low. The most remains in the lowlands closer to RiverClan territory.”

Tallstar’s brow furrowed, and Crowpaw felt a flicker of concern himself. WindClan’s territory was the driest of all the Clans, but their few small creeks and any puddles left over from storms had, for generations, always been enough to sustain them. However, this greenleaf had been a particularly rainless one so far…

“We must pray that rain comes soon,” Tallstar murmured. “Or else we may need to resort to drinking from the river bank.”

“In RiverClan territory?” Sorrelshine asked with a mew of surprise.

“I would ask Leopardstar for permission first, of course,” Tallstar said, glancing at her.

Mudclaw growled, flexing his claws into the dirt.

“I don’t like the idea of relying on RiverClan charity,” he rumbled.

Tallstar sighed.

“Me neither, but if this drought continues until there is no water left on our territory, we may not have another choice.”

Mudclaw was still scowling, but Tallstar glanced behind the deputy. His gaze met Crowpaw’s, and Tallstar’s amber eyes crinkled with warmth.

“But, we still have water on our land for now, so let’s talk of more pleasant things. Crowpaw, how’s your training going?”

Crowpaw ducked his head, hoping he had no dried blood crusted around his nose. It was bad enough that his pelt was still so dirty from his tumble.

“Fine,” Crowpaw muttered.

“I assessed his running today,” Mudclaw said, speaking over him. “He did quite well.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Deadfoot’s son,” Tallstar purred. “He was remarkably fast despite his bad paw.”

Crowpaw lifted his chin slightly, a brief rush of pride running through him.

“But, he still needs to work on his hunting,” Mudclaw continued as if Tallstar hadn’t spoken. “He missed a very easy catch today.”

Crowpaw bit his tongue to stop himself from hissing in outrage.

It wasn’t an easy catch since I was already tired from all the running you were making me do! And yet, despite all that, I would’ve still caught it, if it hadn’t ducked into its burrow at the last moment!

Tallstar’s head tilted thoughtfully to the side.

“Hm… I see,” was all he said.

Crowpaw looked away from Tallstar, wondering if his leader could see the frustration crackling off his pelt like lightning.

Mudclaw is so unfair! Now Tallstar will think I’m not ready to become a warrior. I wonder if Mudclaw ever tells Tallstar when I do make a good catch, or does he only report my failures?!

“Anyway, I won’t keep you two any longer,” Tallstar said. “I’m sure you’re eager to rest after your long patrol.”

Mudclaw dipped his head to Tallstar, flicking his tail at Crowpaw to indicate for him to follow as he marched away.

“Get something to eat, but make sure you also check with the elders and queens to see if they need anything before sunhigh is over. We’ll resume training in the evening,” Mudclaw said curtly. 

Crowpaw stalked away from Mudclaw without another word, eager to be away from his mentor, even if his freedom came with the caveat of chores. 

Crowpaw hadn’t yet eaten that day, and his belly was yowling with hunger as he headed for the fresh-kill pile. The choice of what to eat was easy— right at the top was a young buck rabbit, the very sight of which made his mouth water. But when he picked up his meal and gazed around camp, he was faced with a much harder decision.

Where should he eat? The camp was growing more and more crowded by the moment as Clanmates returned from patrols. 

There were at least some obvious eliminations: Mudclaw was settling down with Tornear and Webfoot, so Crowpaw would certainly be avoiding them as much as possible. Whitetail was alright, but she was still eating with Onewhisker, who was hardly bearable. At least Whitetail understood when Crowpaw didn’t feel like talking about something, but Onewhisker was far too overly familiar with Crowpaw. If he went over there, there would be no way Onewhisker would shut up about Crowpaw’s botched hunt. Crowpaw could already picture his pitying glances and overbearing advice. 

Onewhisker was a bit of an oddball in the Clan anyway, and associating with him more than necessary wouldn’t do Crowpaw any favors. Onewhisker was much too friendly with the other Clans, ThunderClan especially, for many other WindClanners’ liking, Mudclaw included. Really Whitetail was Onewhisker’s only close friend, and that’s just because she was his former apprentice and was nice to everyone.

Then who else? Crowpaw liked the queens and elders, but he couldn’t eat with them— that would make him look like a kit. Owlkit, Weaselkit and Thistlekit were little pests anyway, and they’d just bother him relentlessly for stories about his training. 

Crowpaw’s gaze tracked across the others in the camp. He also liked Wrenflight; after all, she was Ashfoot’s mother, making Crowpaw her only living grandkit. But, Wrenflight was still with Tallstar and Sorrelshine. An apprentice couldn’t just go invite himself over to eat with the Clan leader.

However, that meant his remaining options were extremely limited.

If only there were more apprentices my age, or if only my littermates had lived… then I wouldn’t have this problem.

Resolving to eat alone, Crowpaw trotted towards an empty corner of camp, close to the entrance of the medicine cat’s den. Barkface could be stern, but he was also reserved and quiet. He wouldn’t bother him. 

But, Crowpaw had only made it halfway over there when a sneering voice interrupted him.

“What happened to you?”

Crowpaw’s entire body tensed at the sound, and he turned to glare over his shoulder where his eyes met those of a young warrior— Nightcloud. 

She was a pretty cat with long, flowing dark fur and bright amber eyes. But, all her good looks were wasted since her personality was the most wretched in all of WindClan— maybe even worse than Mudclaw’s.

Nightcloud tossed her head, angling her eyes over to glance at her sister, Robinwing, who munched on a mole at her side.

“Have you seen the state of his pelt?” Nightcloud asked Robinwing as if Crowpaw wasn’t standing right there.

Robinwing swallowed and glanced up, her blue eyes widening as she took in Crowpaw’s dirty, scruffy appearance.

Crowpaw scoffed, dropping his meal at his paws to free his mouth to speak.

“Stop being so dramatic, Nightcloud. It’s not that bad,” he snapped. “I just haven’t gotten the chance to groom yet after coming back from patrol.”

Nightcloud arched a brow.

“Really? That’s just from patrolling?” she meowed skeptically. “Because to me, it kind of looks like you got in a fight with a rabbit. And, the rabbit won.”

Robinwing snickered not so subtly into her paw, and Crowpaw’s pelt bristled out like thistledown as anger surged through him.

“Who told you that?” he demanded. “Mudclaw?! Onewhisker?”

Nightcloud huffed, rolling her eyes in feigned disinterest, but Crowpaw could see the malicious amusement glinting in the depths of her gaze.

“No one told me anything. It was just a lucky guess,” Nightcloud sneered. “Although, I shouldn’t be surprised that little Crowpaw was beaten by a bunny.”

Crowpaw ground his teeth together, his tail whipping back and forth as his rage grew. There was a part of him, which was swiftly growing in strength, that wanted to claw that smug look off her face.

“It was a hare, and it was huge! Besides, I am not little!” he hissed between his fangs. “I’ve been bigger than both of you for ages!”

“But, you’ll always be younger than us,” Robinwing said in a sing-song tone.

“By three moons!” Crowpaw spat.

“Three and a half,” Nightcloud corrected.

Crowpaw locked his gaze on Nightcloud’s, wishing he could scorch all the fur of her perfect dark pelt with the fury that burned in his eyes.

“Soon I’m going to be a warrior, and you won’t be able to say fox-dung about me anymore,” Crowpaw snarled.

“That’s funny, because right now it seems like Robinwing and I are warriors, and you’re still an apprentice,” Nightcloud said with a self-satisfied sneer.

Crowpaw snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I wonder how that happened, since you’re clearly so mature,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re one to talk!” Nightcloud retorted, the smugness in her expression vanishing as her eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I haven’t noticed Mudclaw scheduling your final assessment anytime soon.”

Crowpaw growled loudly, but he had no response to that. It was true that his mentor hadn’t said a thing about when Crowpaw would finally become a warrior, and Nightcloud knew it. She raised her chin, her amber eyes glowing in victory. 

Tail thrashing, Crowpaw snatched up his rabbit and stomped away to finally have his meal in peace. But he hardly felt like eating now— his stomach was twisted into knots by frustration and anxiety brought on by Nightcloud’s prodding.

Would Mudclaw ever let him become a warrior? 

Crowpaw plopped down miserably and began half-heartedly picking at the rabbit.

“This spot taken?”

Crowpaw glanced up, tense, but then relaxed immediately at the sight of familiar grey fur. He shook his head silently, and his mother Ashfoot took a seat at his side, placing her own meal, a robin, down at her paws. She must have just returned to camp— the wild scents of the wind-blown moor still clung to her pelt, but she didn’t say anything about the dirty state of Crowpaw’s pelt. Instead, she simply brushed her tail down his side to dislodge some of the dust. 

Crowpaw stared down at the rabbit at his paws, his stomach still churning as the silence between them stretched on.

“Has Mudclaw said anything to you about when I can take my final assessment?” Crowpaw blurted out.

It took Ashfoot a moment to respond.

“...No,” she said finally.

Crowpaw scoffed quietly, raking his claws through the dirt.

“Of course not. I don’t think he’s ever going to let me become a warrior,” he muttered. “Who else would change the bedding and check the elders for ticks and do all the chores then? It’ll be moons until Runningbrook’s litter is ready to become apprentices.”

“I wouldn’t put too much stock into the fact that Mudclaw hasn’t spoken to me about it,” Ashfoot said after another thoughtful pause. “You know the deputy and I have never seen eye-to-eye.”

“I wish Deadfoot was still deputy,” Crowpaw muttered, still staring down at his paws.

His mother was silent again, and Crowpaw glanced over at her. She was gazing out into camp, looking at nothing in particular, but her blue eyes had softened with a rare fondness. Although Ashfoot was usually a very stoic cat, no one could protest the clear affection that she still had for her former mate.

“Me too,” Ashfoot said in a soft voice. “He would be very proud of you, you know.”

The churning in Crowpaw’s gut settled some as his heart warmed. He’d never met his father— he’d died before he was even born. But, Crowpaw couldn’t help but feel like they would’ve gotten along if they had. Even if Crowpaw’s littermates and older siblings still hadn’t survived, regardless, it would’ve been nice to have a father— another cat to share meals with, to talk to, who’d be able to understand him. 

And, maybe if Deadfoot was still alive, then Ashfoot would be less contemplative and melancholic, prone to long bouts of staring and silence. Crowpaw loved his mother; he truly did. But sometimes he felt as if he was always competing for her attention with ghosts.

“I’m sure you’ll become a warrior soon,” Ashfoot added as if an afterthought, leaning over to briefly rasp her tongue over Crowpaw’s ear.

She then fell back into silence as she began to eat her meal. Crowpaw glanced down at his food, which he unfortunately still found mildly unappetizing, before lifting his gaze to stare out into camp.

So many of his Clanmates— Mudclaw with his condescensions, Nightcloud with her mockery, Onewhisker with his pity— viewed Crowpaw as if he was some kind of a wayward kit, rather than a cat on the cusp of becoming a warrior. Crowpaw was ready! And yet, even Tallstar still seemed hesitant. After all, if Crowpaw’s leader did truly believe in him, then he could make him a warrior right now, regardless of what Mudclaw thought, right?

Crowpaw flexed his claws.

If only they knew what a great warrior for WindClan I could be! Then Nightcloud and Robinwing would no longer be able to taunt me. Mudclaw would realize I’m useful. And everyone else would appreciate me.

Crowpaw inhaled deeply, steeling and calming himself. 

He shouldn’t let his frustrations get the better of him. It couldn’t be long now. No cat could be forced to be an apprentice forever— even if they had Mudclaw as their mentor.

Soon, I’ll prove them all wrong, and my Clanmates will finally respect me.

Crowpaw bent his head, tearing a mouthful of meat from the rabbit.

Yes, once I’m a warrior, everything will be better.

Allegiances

WindClan

Leader: Tallstar— a tall, elderly black-and-white tom with an unusually long tail

Deputy: Mudclaw— a mottled dark brown tom

Apprentice: Crowpaw

Medicine cat: Barkface— an elderly brown tom with a short tail

Warriors: Rushtail— a light creamy-brown tom (Mate: Runningbrook)

Cloudrunner— a pale grey tom (Mate: Morningflower)

Sorrelshine— a grey and brown she-cat

Wrenflight— a brown she-cat

Ashfoot— a grey she-cat with blue eyes

Onewhisker— a brown tabby tom

Tornear— a grey tabby tom

Webfoot— a dark grey tabby tom

Whitetail— a small white she-cat

Robinwing— a light brown she-cat with blue eyes

Nightcloud— a black she-cat with amber eyes

Apprentices: Crowpaw— a dark smoky grey, almost black, tom with deep blue eyes

Queens: Runningbrook— a light grey, tabby she-cat (Mate: Rushtail. Kits: Owlkit— a light brown tabby tom, Weaselkit— a ginger tabby tom with white paws, Thistlekit— a solid grey she-cat)

Morningflower— a tortoiseshell she-cat (Mate: Cloudrunner. Expecting Kits)

Elders: Stagleap— a dark brown tom

Ryestalk— a grey tabby she-cat

Darkfoot— a dark blue-grey tom

RiverClan

Leader: Leopardstar— an unusually spotted, golden tabby she-cat

Deputy: Mistyfoot— a blue-grey she-cat with blue eyes

Medicine cat: Mudfur— an elderly, spotted light brown tabby tom with long hair

Warriors: Reedtail— pale grey tabby tom (Mate: Skyheart)

Sedgecreek— a brown tabby she-cat

Apprentice: Primerosepaw

Blackclaw— a black tom

Vixenleap— a black she-cat (Mate: Shadepelt)

Shadepelt— a dark grey she-cat (Mate: Vixenleap)

Apprentice: Pikepaw

Heavystep— a brown tabby tom

Mosspelt— a tortoiseshell and white she-cat

Apprentice: Swallowpaw

Mallowtail— a tortoiseshell-tabby she-cat with white

Dawnflower— a pale grey she-cat

Stormfur— a dark silvery-grey tom with amber eyes

Apprentice: Reedpaw

Feathertail— a long-furred silver tabby she-cat with thick black stripes and blue eyes

Hawkfrost— a dark brown tabby tom with a white underbelly and ice-blue eyes

Mothwing— a dappled golden tabby she-cat with amber eyes

Apprentices: Swallowpaw— a dark brown tabby she-cat

Reedpaw— a black tom

Primerosepaw— a pale creamy-brown she-cat with white paws

Pikepaw— a dark grey tom

Queens: Skyheart— a pale brown tabby she-cat (Mate: Reedtail. Kits: Volekit—brown tabby tom, Stonekit— a grey tom, Splashkit—a pale brown she-cat)

Grasswhisker— a brown tabby she-cat (Expecting Kits)

Elders: Loudbelly— a dark brown tom (retired early due to health issues)

Beetlenose— a solid black tom

ThunderClan

Leader: Firestar— a ginger tom with a flame colored pelt and bright green eyes (Mate: Sandstorm)

Deputy: Greystripe— a long-haired grey tom

Medicine cat: Cinderpelt— a dark grey she-cat

Apprentice: Leafpaw

Warriors: Mousefur—a small, dusky brown she-cat

Apprentice: Spiderpaw

Dustpelt— a brown tabby tom (Mate: Ferncloud)

Apprentice: Squirrelpaw

Sandstorm— a pale ginger she-cat with leaf-green eyes (Mate: Firestar)

Apprentice: Sorrelpaw

Cloudtail— a fluffy, solid white tom with blue eyes (Mate: Brightheart)

Ferncloud— a light grey she-cat with darker flecks and green eyes (Mate: Dustpelt)

Brackenfur— a golden-brown tabby tom

Apprentice: Whitepaw

Thornclaw— a golden-brown tabby tom

Apprentice: Shrewpaw

Brightheart— a ginger and white she-cat with one blue eye (Mate: Cloudtail)

Brambleclaw— a dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Ashfur— a grey tom with darker flecks and blue eyes

Rainwhisker— a dark grey tom

Sootfur— a grey tom

Apprentices: Sorrelpaw— a tortoiseshell and white she-cat

Spiderpaw— a black and brown tom

Shrewpaw— a brown tom

Squirrelpaw— a dark ginger she-cat with one white paw, a bushy tail and green eyes

Leafpaw— a brown tabby she-cat with white paws, a white belly and amber eyes

Whitepaw— a solid white she-cat with green eyes

Queens: Goldenflower— a golden tabby she-cat (Permanent queen) 

Elders: Dappletail— a tortoiseshell she-cat

Frostfur— a solid white she-cat with blue eyes

Speckletail— a golden tabby she-cat

Longtail— a tabby tom with an unusually long tail (retired early due to eye injury)

ShadowClan

Leader: Blackstar— a large white tom with huge jet-black paws

Deputy: Russetfur— a dark ginger she-cat

Medicine cat: Littlecloud— a small tabby tom

Warriors: Wetfoot— a grey tabby tom

Oakfur— a light brown tom with green eyes

Apprentice: Smokepaw

Cedarheart— a dark grey tom with yellow eyes

Nightwing– a black she-cat

Dawncloud— a pale ginger she-cat

Rowanclaw— a dark ginger tabby tom with amber eyes

Apprentice: Talonpaw

Kinkfur— a grey tabby she-cat with bushy fur

Snowbird— a white she-cat with green eyes

Ratscar— a dark brown tom with many scars

Tawnypelt— a tawny and brown tabby tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

Snaketail— a dark brown tabby tom

Apprentice: Scorchpaw

Whitewater— a white she-cat with one sighted eye

Apprentices: Smokepaw— a grey tom

Talonpaw— a pale grey tom

Scorchpaw— a dark grey tom

Queens: Tallpoppy— a long-legged light brown she-cat (Expecting Kits)

Elders: Runningnose— a grey and white tom

Boulder— a solid grey tom

Unaligned Creatures

Ravenpaw– a black tom with a few small white markings (Mate: Barley)

Barley– a burly black and white tom (Mate: Ravenpaw)

Purdy— an elderly dark tabby tom with patchy fur

Chapter Text

The light of the full moon bathed the forest in silver, but this night was hardly a still or quiet one. The air was alive with the chirps and croaks of frogs, and the reeds at the edge of the river rattled together, adding to the symphony as a patrol of RiverClan cats padded by. 

Mothwing’s golden-striped tail fidgeted as she trailed after her Clanmates at the very end of the group. She walked alone in silence, but the others spoke in low murmured tones and sent sideways glances back at her. Their reflective eyes flickered in the moonlight like fireflies, and Mothwing knew they were talking about her.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to steady her nerves. It didn’t entirely work, but she at least felt like she wanted to crawl out of her fur a tiny bit less.

The group slowed as they reached their place of crossing. Fourtrees loomed just ahead, on the other side of the river. Leopardstar had evidently decided that the balmy air would make tonight a nice time for a swim, since she had brought them to the edge of the water, rather than to the twoleg bridge that they could take if they preferred not to get their paws wet.

Leopardstar stood at the head of the patrol with her deputy Mistyfoot at her side, her distinctive, spotted tail held high. A flash of a familiar dark tabby pelt near her caught Mothwing’s attention, and Mothwing watched as her brother, Hawkfrost, shouldered his way through the rest of the patrol to come up on Leopardstar’s free side. 

Hawkfrost’s whiskers quivered with excitement as he meowed something to their leader. Leopardstar glanced over at him, and even from the very back of the patrol, Mothwing could see the fondness in her eyes as she looked at her former apprentice.

Leopardstar lowered her tail in signal and plunged into the water, the rest of her cats just behind her. Mothwing didn’t hesitate when it was her turn to slip into the river. Long ago, the water had used to hold terrible memories for her, but those had now been buried by moons of rigorous training. She swam just as well as any RiverClan-born cat these days, but even if she didn’t, the water wasn’t frightening tonight anyway. Even the mighty river hadn’t escaped the effects of the drought that had gripped the forest for the past moon, dropping its water levels and turning it placid.

The RiverClan cats emerged on the other side, droplets clinging to and sparkling on their fur and whiskers like miniature crystals in the moonlight. As Mothwing padded onto the shore, she found herself next to a pair of siblings. 

Stormfur dipped his broad, grey head to Mothwing.

“How are you this evening, Mothwing?” he meowed politely as their patrol strode closer to Fourtrees. 

His orange gaze flickered over her before she could respond.

“Nervous?” he guessed.

“A little,” Mothwing admitted, glancing over at him from the corner of her eyes.

Stormfur’s sister, Feathertail, eyed Mothwing from Stormfur’s other side but didn’t say anything. She had that guarded look in her blue eyes which seemed to be ever-present whenever she was around Mothwing or Hawkfrost. 

“Don’t be,” Stormfur said warmly. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Mothwing just bent her head to rasp her tongue through her chest fur instead of responding. If only she shared Stormfur’s confidence.

A bouncing ball of black fur rushed up to Stormfur, squeezing between him and Feathertail with a playful squeak.

“Stormfur! Stormfur! We’re almost there right?!” Reedpaw asked, gazing up at his mentor with shining eyes.

“We are,” Stormfur answered, a purr rumbling in his chest at his new apprentice’s enthusiasm. “Can you scent any of the other Clans?”

Reedpaw lifted his nose to the breeze, his face scrunching up in concentration.

“WindClan, I think?” he meowed, glancing over at Stormfur for confirmation.

Stormfur nodded. “Yes, very good. We must be the second Clan to arrive. I’m sure ThunderClan and ShadowClan are on their way.”

Reedpaw’s tail stuck straight up at the praise, and he hopped up and down in place.

“I can’t wait to meet them all!”

Feathertail’s features had transformed with the appearance of Reedpaw. Now instead of cold and closed-off, her expression was warm and affectionate as she gazed down at the young tom.

“Settle down or you’ll wear yourself out before the leaders even start their announcements,” she teased gently, nudging Reedpaw’s side with her muzzle.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight at all, I’m so excited!” Reedpaw declared.

Feathertail and Stormfur purred loudly, and Mothwing couldn’t stop a soft purr from rumbling in her chest as well. She wished she had a fraction of Reedpaw’s enthusiasm for her first Gathering.

“Can we go on ahead? I want to be the first to see Fourtrees!” Reedpaw asked his mentor eagerly.

“Alright,” Stormfur purred indulgently.

Stormfur gave Mothwing a nod of goodbye. The three cats slipped away, pulling ahead to the front of the patrol, and leaving Mothwing alone again.

“What’d Stormfur want?” Hawkfrost’s voice suddenly asked.

With a blink of surprise, Mothwing glanced to the side as her brother materialized next to her.

“Nothing. He was just making polite conversation,” Mothwing said.

“Hm…” was all Hawkfrost said in response, his brilliant blue eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh towards him. He’s honestly not so bad,” Mothwing chided lightly.

Besides, it’s obvious Feathertail dislikes us so much more than Stormfur does. If you want to hate one of them, why not her?

And, yet, Hawkfrost didn’t seem to care about Feathertail at all— it was always Stormfur that he was getting his tail in a twist over. When Stormfur had gotten Reedpaw as his apprentice a few days ago, Hawkfrost had sulked for two sunrises straight.

Hawkfrost snorted in response to Mothwing’s lukewarm defense of Stormfur.

“Yeah, he’s not so bad if you don’t mind the fact that he’s got as much personality as a rock,” Hawkfrost scoffed. “And, the intelligence of one too.”

“But, he’s kind,” Mothwing pointed out. “And, sometimes surprisingly perceptive. Intelligence isn’t everything.”

“Why are you defending him?” Hawkfrost asked, his eyes narrowing again.

“I’m not,” Mothwing retorted, tail flicking. “I just think you’re kind of being a jerk.”

Hawkfrost’s lips curled back in a toothy grin that was almost more snarl than smile.

“But I am a jerk,” he said.

Mothwing huffed in amusement, giving her head a small shake.

“Eel-heart,” she muttered, but her tone was fond. 

“Minnow-brain,” Hawkfrost shot back, his tail flicking sharply against her side.

Mothwing jolted in surprise at the sudden contact, and Hawkfrost chuffed loudly in amusement.

“Scared you, did I?” Hawkfrost asked, still purring. “What’s got you so on edge?”

Mothwing’s ears angled back as her brief amusement faded and nervousness reared back up to take its place.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mothwing muttered, looking away from her brother to gaze out towards the towering oak trees. “What I don’t understand is why you’re so unbothered about all this.”

“I think it’s exciting, and you should look at it that way too,” Hawkfrost declared, lifting his chin. “Finally! Our first Gathering.”

“Maybe I’d be less nervous if it wasn’t our first,” Mothwing said in a low, uneasy voice. “That way cats in the other Clans could have gotten to know me a bit better.”

Hawkfrost shot her a puzzled look.

“Why do you care if other Clans know you?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “RiverClan is the only Clan that matters.”

“Well, that way, when Leopardstar made the announcement that I want to train as a medicine cat, they’d know that I’m not just some power-hungry rogue trying to seize an important position,” she explained. 

Mothwing gave a quiet scoff, shaking her head.

“But why bother thinking about that now,” she continued bitterly. “Of course we never got to go to Gatherings when we were younger like normal apprentices got to do–”

“You know why that wasn’t an option for us,” Hawkfrost said suddenly, his tone stern as his ears angled back.

Mothwing huffed in annoyance.

“Yeah because Leopardstar wanted to put off explaining why she took in a couple of rogues for as long as possib—”

“Shh!” Hawkfrost hushed her sharply, his ears flat against his head now. “Don’t speak like that! Leopardstar has just been trying to protect us. That’s all.”

Mothwing’s jaw clenched in silent disagreement.

Was it really to protect us? Or, Leopardstar’s own ego and image?

But, Mothwing also knew better than to try to argue with Hawkfrost about it. Leopardstar had been his mentor, and from the moment they’d stepped foot in RiverClan, he idolized her. 

Mothwing remained quiet as they finally reached the crest of the hollow, where Leopardstar halted the patrol for just a moment. Mothwing stepped closer to Hawkfrost so her Clanmates wouldn’t overhear them. Hawkfrost met her gaze, although Mothwing could see that his eyes still glittered with clear annoyance towards her.

“Alright,” Mothwing muttered, conceding, at least for now. “But, that still doesn’t change my worries about tonight. You can at least enjoy your time there, mostly. Since you don’t have to worry about a special announcement all about you…”

Hawkfrost released a long, dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes.

“Could you try being a tiny bit less pessimistic for once in your life, Moth?” Hawkfrost said in a harsh whisper. “Who knows, maybe things will go well.”

Mothwing’s ears twisted back, a bit of hurt nettling her at Hawkfrost’s dismissal of her feelings. But, before she could say anything in response, Leopardstar signaled her Clanmates forward, and they all rushed down the slope and into Fourtrees proper.

“I’m going to go talk with some other warriors,” Hawkfrost said curtly from over his shoulder, already walking away from Mothwing. “I’ll see you later.”

Mothwing’s belly sank with unhappiness as Hawkfrost padded away, but she was rather quickly distracted by the new environment around her. She glanced around, taking in the huge Great Oaks that straddled the clearing, and the massive boulder that jutted up in the center. But, she tried not to gape or let the awe she felt appear on her face— she was far too aware of the curious glances from the WindClan cats brushing over her to draw any more attention to herself.

Some of her Clanmates, like Hawkfrost, had dispersed to chat with the WindClan cats, sharing cordial nods. Leopardstar had also peeled away from the rest of her Clan, padding to the Great Rock to take her place on it next to a long-limbed black-and-white tom, presumably WindClan’s leader Tallstar. 

Mothwing’s gaze followed Mudfur as he joined WindClan’s medicine cat— Barkface, Mothwing reminded herself— to chat. There was a tugging on her paws, and a longing to go over there with him filled Mothwing for a moment, but she squashed the urge down.

I’m not a medicine cat, remember? Can’t be until Leopardstar sees if the other Clans will throw a fit over it.

Mothwing sighed softly and found herself lingering near the edge of the clearing, again nearby to Stormfur, Feathertail, and Reedpaw.

“What do I do now?” Reedpaw asked, gazing around the clearing with wide eyes.

“You can go speak with warriors or apprentices from the other Clans. Just don’t give any RiverClan secrets away,” Mistyfoot’s voice spoke suddenly.

Mothwing glanced over, a welcoming purr rising to life in her throat as she spotted the deputy, and her former mentor, padding over to their small group. Mistyfoot spared a brief, warm glance towards Mothwing before turning her attention onto Reedpaw, Stormfur and Feathertail.

“Mom, I wouldn’t give away RiverClan secrets!” Reedpaw huffed in offense. “I’m loyal to RiverClan!”

Mistyfoot purred, affectionately rasping her tongue over his forehead.

“Of course you are,” she assured. “I was only teasing.”

“If you want, I could introduce you to some cats,” Stormfur offered to Reedpaw. “There are a few good warriors in ThunderClan I know well.”

“Allow me,” a deep, rumbling voice suddenly cut in. “I would love to show my son around his first Gathering.”

Mistyfoot stiffened slightly as a large, dark tom padded over to the group, but Mothwing could see the deputy doing her best to relax as she dipped her head to the black-furred warrior.

“Of course, Blackclaw. If that’s what you and Reedpaw want,” Mistyfoot responded.

Stormfur nodded in agreement.

Blackclaw swept one cool look over Mothwing, Stormfur, and Feathertail as Reedpaw hurried to his side, his tail vibrating with excitement. Then without another word, the warrior turned, and the two black cats padded away, their matching dark pelts quickly vanishing into the night.

Mothwing glanced over at Mistyfoot from the corner of her eyes to see the deputy staring after her son with an unreadable expression on her face. 

Mistyfoot and Blackclaw were ex-mates, and their relationship hadn’t exactly ended amicably. Mothwing didn’t know the details; only rumors. Some cats whispered that it had something to do with Mistyfoot’s part-ThunderClan heritage. But, whatever the cause, Mothwing could tell that resentment bubbled just beneath the surface for both Mistyfoot and Blackclaw, despite the fact that they tried their best to be cordial to each other, at least in front of their kits. 

Frankly, Mothwing found the fact that they were ever mates at all quite baffling. Their personalities were near exact opposites— Blackclaw was aggressive and brash, while Mistyfoot was calm and level-headed.

Mothwing glanced over to find Feathertail gazing at Mistyfoot as well, looking as if some kind of comment about Blackclaw hovered on the tip of her tongue. But, then Feathertail’s eyes flitted over, meeting Mothwing’s, and Feathertail seemed to think better of her remark, her gaze dropping to the ground instead. 

Mothwing’s ears grew uncomfortably hot, and she lowered her gaze to stare down at her paws as well. She hated how Feathertail acted around her— like she was a snake in the grass, liable to strike at any moment. 

Mothwing was used to the sidelong glances, and the gibes and cutting comments some of her Clanmates gave her because of her rogue blood. But, with Feathertail, Mothwing could tell it was different. Feathertail didn’t give a rat’s tail that Mothwing’s mother was a rogue. What concerned Feathertail was the other half of Mothwing’s heritage.

Mothwing could hazily remember a time moons ago when she, Hawkfrost, and their mother Sasha were new to RiverClan, when Feathertail had once treated Mothwing and her brother with warmth like she did now to Reedpaw and his littermates— she’d played with them, taught them to swim, told them stories about RiverClan. 

But, then Sasha had made the dire mistake of confessing to Feathertail that Tigerstar was Mothwing and Hawkfrost’s father. Tigerstar had been a tyrant that ruled the forest with fear and blood, and after Feathertail found out he fathered Sasha’s kits, she never wanted anything to do with Mothwing or her family ever again. For some reason though, Feathertail had listened when Sasha begged her to keep it a secret, although Mothwing’s stomach churned at the thought of what her other Clanmates would think if the truth did ever come out. 

They’d be like Feathertail but worse. She at least didn’t already distrust us for being the kits of a rogue as they do… But would our other Clanmates even allow us to remain in RiverClan if they knew we shared blood with Tigerstar as well?

Stormfur cleared his throat, breaking through the awkward tension that hung over the group.

“Look, ThunderClan is arriving,” he said.

The bushes surrounding the clearing rustled, and a flame-colored tom came pushing out of the ferns at the head of the patrol. Mothwing gazed at him with interest— this must be Firestar. She had heard many stories about him. After all, every tale about Tigerstar also included Firestar— the kittypet who became leader to vanquish the tyrant. 

Close behind Firestar was a burly grey tom who looked a lot like Stormfur. He noticed Mothwing’s small group of RiverClan warriors right away and made a beeline towards them as a small brown tabby with white markings trailed behind, following him over.

Mistyfoot, Feathertail, and Stormfur greeted the ThunderClan cat with warm purrs, and Mothwing blinked in surprise as, with great affection, the grey tom touched his muzzle first to Feathertail’s, then to Stormfur’s. But, then the pieces clicked in her mind as Mothwing realized who this cat was.

Oh right. This must be Greystripe, Stormfur and Feathertail’s father.

Mothwing looked over at Feathertail a bit more critically.

You’d think a cat with a father in another Clan would be more forgiving about my situation. We’re both outcasts in RiverClan, in a way.

“It’s wonderful to see you both!” Greystripe purred to his kits, his amber eyes shining.

“You too,” Feathertail said warmly, dipping her head to him.

Greystripe continued to purr, just staring at Feathertail and Stormfur for a few moments longer before he finally looked over at Mothwing.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you yet,” he said with a friendly blink. “I’m Greystripe, ThunderClan’s deputy.”

Mothwing dipped her head politely.

“Mothwing,” she said simply.

“She’s one of RiverClan’s newest warriors. And, my former apprentice,” Mistyfoot added helpfully.

“Ah. Well, good to meet you,” Greystripe said to Mothwing before glancing over at RiverClan’s deputy. “And, you’re looking well too, Mistyfoot.”

“Thank you, Greystripe,” Mistyfoot said with a purr. “RiverClan has been thriving this greenleaf. Stormfur has gotten his first apprentice only a few days ago— one of my kits.”

Greystripe’s chest puffed out in pride as he turned his attention back to his son.

“Really? That’s wonderful!”

Stormfur purred happily and started meowing something to Greystripe about Reedpaw, but Mothwing’s attention was pulled away as she noticed the small tabby she-cat still lingering shyly behind Greystripe. Mistyfoot’s gaze drifted over to the tabby as well, and she beckoned her closer with a flick over her tail.

“Hello again,” Mistyfoot said, her blue eyes warm as she blinked at the young she-cat. “Leafpaw, right? I remember you from the last Gathering.”

Leafpaw dipped her head, lowering her gaze to her white paws.

“That’s right,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m Cinderpelt’s apprentice.”

Mothwing’s ears pricked in sudden interest. Cinderpelt was ThunderClan’s medicine cat. This little tabby was a medicine cat apprentice?

“And Firestar and Sandstorm’s daughter!” Greystripe added in a loud voice, his chest puffing out in pride again as if she was his daughter as well.

Feathertail’s head tilted to the side in confusion.

“I thought Firestar had two daughters?” she asked.

“He does. My sister, Squirrelpaw, couldn’t make it to this Gathering,” Leafpaw explained quickly, lifting her golden eyes from the ground.

Greystripe tsked his tongue, giving his head a shake.

“Yes, unfortunately Squirrelpaw takes after her father with her troublemaking,” he sighed.

Mistyfoot released a sudden mrrow of laughter, her gaze sparkling playfully.

“That’s rich coming from you. If I recall correctly, whenever Firestar got into trouble, you were right there at his side,” she teased.

Greystripe put on a show of mock blustering as Feathertail, Stormfur, and Leafpaw all purred loudly in amusement. Mothwing purred along politely as well, but she couldn’t help but feeling like she was intruding in this conversation. What did she know about Greystripe or Firestar or their troublemaking? Like seemingly so many parts of Clan-life, Mothwing was a fish out of water here.

Her gaze tracked across the crowd of cats, looking for a familiar dark tabby pelt.

Where’s Hawkfrost? I should go be with him.

Her gaze found a dark tabby pelt in the distance, and she opened her jaws, about to excuse herself in order to go join him. But, before she could say anything, the dark tabby turned slightly, and Mothwing caught a better look of his face and his amber eyes— the wrong color. 

Mothwing jolted in silent surprise. That cat wasn’t her littermate. But, the shade of his fur and the shape of his stripes were nearly identical to Hawkfrost’s. All that was missing was Hawkfrost’s white chest and his blue eyes.

A trickle of cold ran down Mothwing’s spine.

That must be Brambleclaw. Tigerstar’s other son.

“Leafpaw, you haven’t properly been introduced to Stormfur and Feathertail yet, right?” Greystripe meowed, pulling Mothwing out of her thoughts. “They’re my kits!”

Leafpaw greeted them with nose touches as Greystripe did, and Feathertail gazed at her with a friendliness she’d never dream of directing at Mothwing. 

But, then Leafpaw glanced over at Mothwing, her warm amber eyes curious.

“Hi. And, you are? Sorry, I missed your name earlier,” Leafpaw said in her soft voice, her gaze drifting over Mothwing’s golden pelt.

Mothwing dipped her head politely.

“I’m Mothwing,” she said.

Leafpaw purred, finally lifting her gaze to Mothwing’s, and the medicine cat apprentice gave a few hard blinks when they made eye contact.

“That’s a very pretty name,” she murmured, her gentle golden eyes peering deeply into Mothwing’s amber ones. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mothwing looked away from Leafpaw, her ears warming slightly as she found herself suddenly flustered. In one brief interaction, this ThunderClan apprentice had managed to be more kind to her than many of her Clanmates had ever been.

It’s just because Leafpaw clearly has no clue who my parents are. Mothwing reminded herself.

She glanced back over at Leafpaw from the corner of her eyes, as if not looking at her head-on would protect her from the flustering effect of her gaze.

“Uh, th- thank you. And, how long have you been a medicine cat apprentice?” Mothwing asked, managing to shove down most of her sudden nerves.

Leafpaw’s face lit up, any trace of shyness that had been in her expression melting away to be replaced by excitement.

“Just a couple of moons! I’m so proud to be Cinderpelt’s apprentice.”

“I’ve only met Cinderpelt once, when she helped Mudfur save Blackclaw after he got stuck in mud,” Mothwing said, relaxingly slightly. “She was incredible.”

That incident from about a half a moon ago had actually been the turning point for Mothwing, which had completely convinced her that she wanted to be a medicine cat. She wanted so badly to save cats, like how Mudfur and Cinderpelt had saved Blackclaw.

Leafpaw blinked eagerly. 

“Yes, I remember her telling me about that! She’s so amazing, but she knows so much… sometimes I wonder if I’ll be able to learn it all,” Leafpaw said, a hint of worry entering her eyes.

Mothwing purred sympathetically.

“Yeah, sometimes I think that Mudfur can identify every root, stem, and leaf in the entire forest! I have no idea how he remembers all their appearances and names when I can barely tell the difference between a tansy and a dandelion,” she said, her gaze drifting over the crowd and towards the RiverClan medicine cat.

Leafpaw tilted her head to the side curiously.

“Oh, are you interested in herbs?” she asked.

Mothwing’s gaze flashed back over to Leafpaw’s, and she was suddenly much too aware of Greystripe’s, Mistyfoot’s, Stormfur’s, and Feathertail’s eyes on her as well.

“Um… something like that,” Mothwing muttered, dropping her eyes to stare down at her feet.

Thankfully, Greystripe, Mistyfoot, Stormfur, and Feathertail picked up talking again about Reedpaw’s training, but Mothwing could still feel Leafpaw’s gaze on her. But, Mothwing didn’t have to fend off any probing questions because from the top of the Great Rock, Leopardstar threw her head back and let out a yowl for attention.

“Let’s begin this Gathering!” Leopardstar said as voices quieted and cats stilled.

ShadowClan had arrived at some point during Mothwing’s conversation with the ThunderClan cats, and Blackstar, a large white cat with black paws, now sat on the Great Rock with the other leaders. 

Mothwing’s belly flipped and twisted with anxiety. Was Leopardstar going to make her announcements right now, first? But, Mothwing let out a sigh of relief as RiverClan’s leader glanced back at the others.

“Who’d like to start?” she asked.

“I will,” Firestar responded, striding to the front of the boulder. “I bring good news! ThunderClan has a new warrior, Sorreltail!”

Mothwing cheered politely for the new warrior, if only because Leafpaw and Greystripe were sitting mere tail-lengths away from her. She had no idea who Sorreltail was, but the she-cat seemed popular given the volume of the cheers. 

Mothwing followed Leafpaw’s gaze to a calico warrior who was sitting up very straight and proud— Sorreltail presumably.

“Sorreltail is my best friend,” Leafpaw whispered, making Mothwing jolt slightly.

Leafpaw must have noticed her looking at the new warrior. Mothwing glanced down at the shorter she-cat, who blinked up at her eagerly, having leaned over to speak close to Mothwing’s ear. 

Mothwing ducked her head to murmur back at her. “Pass on my congratulations.”

Leafpaw’s tail curled up in delight.

“Thank you. I will,” she purred.

“Whitepaw has also started her training,” Firestar said.

He also shared some other news about a badger they’d discovered in ThunderClan territory, but Mothwing wasn’t paying close attention. Most of her focus was on her mounting anxiety as it grew closer to the time when RiverClan would give their announcements, and the other part of her attention was distracted by how close Leafpaw was sitting to her. She had not scooted back over after leaning in to whisper to Mothwing about Sorreltail. Leafpaw’s scent, floral and sweet from herbs, wreathed around Mothwing, clouding her mind.

Blackstar took to the front next.

“ShadowClan is strong and prey is plentiful,” he announced, squaring his blocky shoulders. “The heat of greenleaf has dried up part of the marshes on our territory, but we still have plenty of water to drink. Tallpoppy has moved to the nursery, expecting a litter of kits, so our ranks continue to swell.”

A murmur of congratulations for the ShadowClan queen swept through the crowd, and Blackstar stepped back, his announcements finished. Tallstar shot Leopardstar a questioning look, but the RiverClan leader shook her head, gesturing for him to go first. Tallstar strode forward, and even from this distance away, Mothwing could tell his eyes were wide with worry.

“Blackstar spoke truly of the heat of greenleaf,” he began. “It has been many days since the forest saw rain, and the moorland streams on WindClan’s territory have been scorched away completely this last quarter moon. We have no water at all.”

“But, the river borders your territory,” Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy, called from the base of the Great Rock.

Tallstar shook his head.

“The river runs through a deep, sheer-sided gorge for the whole length of our border,” he replied. “Only a cat with a death-wish would attempt to drink from there.”

Tallstar turned towards Leopardstar, reluctance written plainly across every hair of his pelt.

“My Clanmates, elders and kits especially, are suffering. Leopardstar, in the name of StarClan I must ask that you let us come into your territory to drink from the river there, where it is not bordered by the gorge.”

Leopardstar’s eyes narrowed to critical slits, her tail-tip flicking.

“RiverClan’s territory has not escaped the effects of the drought. The water is running low,” she warned.

“But, there is still far more than what you need,” Tallstar responded, desperation creeping into his tone.

Leopardstar was silent for a moment as she deliberated. 

Mistyfoot rose to her paws, lifting her tail for attention.

“Leopardstar, if I may,” the RiverClan deputy called out, “I believe we should allow this. We have water to spare.”

“Are you serious?” Another voice suddenly cut in, and Mothwing glanced over to see Blackclaw on his paws, his tail lashing as he glared at Mistyfoot. “If we let WindClan take one paw-step into our territory, they’ll start taking our prey along with our water!”

A few WindClan warriors released growls of offense, and Mistyfoot fixed a frosty blue stare on Blackclaw, her shoulder fur prickling slightly.

“You forget the times when RiverClan has needed help from other Clans,” Mistyfoot said sternly. “If they had not helped us then, we would not be here today.”

“Enough! Let me think!” Leopardstar meowed sharply, her pelt beginning to bristle.

Mothwing glanced up at Leopardstar, reading the tension in her shoulders. Knowing her leader, Leopardstar was likely mortified that her cats, especially her deputy, had spoken out of turn. Mothwing could already hear the bitter argument that was sure to happen between Mistyfoot and Leopardstar on the walk back to camp.

Leopardstar was silent for a moment longer, her fur flattening as she did her best to compose herself. Then she turned to Tallstar.

“I have made my decision,” she meowed at last. “Tallstar, your Clan may enter our territory to drink from the river just below the twoleg bridge. But you will come no farther, and you do not have leave to take prey. If you violate these terms, your privilege to drink from our water will be revoked immediately.”

Tallstar dipped his head to Leopardstar.

“All of WindClan thanks you for your generosity,” he meowed, the relief clear in his voice. “We shall not put a whisker out of place.”

“Very well,” Leopardstar muttered. “But, the drought will not last forever. We will reevaluate this agreement again at the next Gathering.”

Greystripe leaned over to murmur in Mistyfoot’s ear, but his tone was just loud enough for Mothwing to catch.

“I’m sure they will,” the ThunderClan deputy said darkly. “If I know Leopardstar, she’ll make WindClan pay for that water somehow.”

Mistyfoot just gave a soft, weary sigh in response.

“We will pray that StarClan has sent rain by then,” Tallstar said in reply to Leopardstar before stepping back to finally let her address the Gathering.

Mothwing’s belly flipped nauseatingly, and she braced her paws against the ground as they trembled slightly with nerves. This was it.

Leopardstar began with the mundane details.

“RiverClan grows stronger every day. In the past moon, Grasswhisker announced that she was expecting kits. Skyheart's litter grows stronger by the sunrise,” she purred. “And, RiverClan has three new apprentices! Mistyfoot’s kits Reedpaw, Pikepaw, and Primrosepaw have been apprenticed to Stormfur, Shadepelt, and Sedgecreek respectively.”

Greystripe gave Stormfur’s shoulder an enthusiastic bump with his own, looking nearly ready to burst with pride as cats cheered for the new apprentices.

“We have also named two new warriors,” Leopardstar continued. “RiverClan welcomes Hawkfrost and Mothwing!”

Mothwing held her breath.

Leafpaw turned to purr happily at her, and some murmured congratulations trickled out from others in the crowd as well. But, the congratulations were interspersed with some meows of confusion and even a few growls of discontent from Mothwing’s own Clanmates.

“Who are those two?”

“Have you ever seen them before?”

“How curious, Leopardstar,” Blackstar’s drawling voice cut in through the whispers. “I don’t recall you ever announcing these two as apprentices, or even seeing them at other Gatherings. Remind me, who were their parents again?”

Leopardstar stiffened, her tail-tip flicking.

“Very well,” she growled between clenched fangs. “I’ll clear the air and put an end to any rumors. About six moons ago, a rogue cat came to RiverClan, with her two surviving kits. Her name was Sasha, and she was weak, needing help with hunting and caring for them. For a time she thought of joining the Clan, and we would have welcomed her as a warrior, but in the end she decided the warrior code was not the way of life for her. She left us, but her kits chose to stay.”

Meows of shock and protest rose up from the crowd.

“They’re rogues?!” Some WindClan warrior yowled.

Greystripe shot a glance back at Mothwing, his brow furrowed, and Mothwing lowered her gaze to her paws, wishing she could sink into the ground and disappear.

“They’re good warriors,” Mistyfoot meowed hotly to Greystripe, noticing his look, and Mothwing felt a stab of gratitude to her former mentor.

“Of course. I didn’t mean…” Greystripe muttered half-heartedly.

Mothwing couldn’t make herself look over at Leafpaw, who was silent at her side.

She probably hates me now too.

Leopardstar glared stonily out at the clearing.

“That’s enough!” she yowled over the crowd. “Hawkfrost and Mothwing have been trained well, and they have sworn to protect and defend their Clans, just like all of you!”

She whirled on the other leaders.

“Blackstar, aren’t many members of your Clan former rogues as well? And, Firestar, you used to be a kittypet!”

Blackstar didn’t say anything in response to that besides give a quiet huff, but Firestar dipped his head to Leopardstar.

“You are right,” Firestar said. “Hawkfrost and Mothwing have my full support. I will be glad to see them fulfill their promise as loyal members of their Clan.”

Leopardstar nodded, her expression quite pleased at Firestar’s words, and she turned back to the crowd. 

Mothwing braced herself again. After all, Leopardstar announcing her and Hawkfrost’s existence had only been the first blow.

“Mothwing has completed her warrior’s training, but she has felt a calling for healing. Mudfur is willing to take her on as his apprentice—”

Leopardstar’s words were drowned out by another sea of protests, although the cries were twice as loud this time.

The WindClan deputy, Mudclaw, was on his paws.

“A rogue as a medicine cat?! That’s just taking it too far!” he shouted.

“Mudclaw, be quiet. This is not our place to say anything,” Tallstar hissed down at him, clearly reluctant to speak against Leopardstar after she had just agreed to help WindClan.

“No, it’s StarClan’s place,” Blackstar broke in, his voice a deep rumble. “I admit, I am willing to accept that rogues can make good warriors. But, being a medicine cat? What do they know of StarClan? Who will even speak to them, if they have no ancestors in our skies?”

Mothwing stared up at the Clan leaders desperately, willing Leopardstar to argue in her defense.

But, I do have ancestors in your skies! Mothwing wanted to yowl. All of my father’s family!

But, she doubted that confessing her connection to Tigerstar would fix this mess she was in. In fact, it would probably just make the others more convinced that she didn’t belong.

“StarClan spoke to me despite my lack of warrior blood. I say that she should be given a chance,” Firestar proclaimed, raising his voice over the crowd’s protests, and Mothwing’s heart fluttered at the cry of support.

But, her hope was quickly crushed by Blackstar’s derisive snort.

“We all know the story of the bright flame of ThunderClan, Firestar,” Blackstar sneered. “As much as it pains me to say, you were a special case. StarClan sent a prophecy and chose you, but was this RiverClan cat singled out in the same way?”

“Please allow me to speak!” Mudfur’s rasping voice suddenly cried out above the arguing.

The crowd finally settled and everyone’s attention turned to the old RiverClan medicine cat, who was on his paws. Mothwing’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as she gazed at the cat who she dearly wished would be her mentor. Would Mudfur have the right words of wisdom to sway the others’ opinions? Or would his arguments just fall on more deaf ears?

“Mothwing is a talented young cat, and I would be happy to have her as my apprentice,” Mudfur began. “But, I have heard your protests, and I will concede that you have brought up legitimate concerns. Therefore, I propose this: I will wait to make Mothwing my apprentice until StarClan sends me a sign, showing that she is indeed the right choice.”

What?! 

Cold shock rippled through Mothwing as she stared at Mudfur, her heart sinking down to her paws.

She knew it wasn’t exactly a rejection. But, it sure felt like one.

What are the chances that StarClan actually cares about me?

“If I act without the blessing of StarClan, then you can all complain— but not until then,” Mudfur concluded. 

He then flopped back down, his whiskers twitching irritably.

“There, it’s decided then,” Leopardstar declared swiftly. “No one will be able to argue with StarClan.”

Cats muttered reluctant agreements before finally falling silent, but Mothwing was hardly paying attention to them anymore, or Tallstar’s closing prayer as he gave thanks to StarClan for this Gathering. Mothwing could hardly concentrate on anything besides the mounting dismay in her belly.

Will I ever be able to follow my dream of becoming a medicine cat, or will I be left waiting on a sign from StarClan forever? 

It’s not fair!

Mothwing wanted to wail in despair, but she kept her expression under tight control, willing her face to be an unfeeling mask. She just had to hold on a little longer, then she could be alone, back on RiverClan territory, and safe to break down far away from any prying eyes.

The Gathering was at an end, and the crowd started to break up, Clanmates congregating back together. Mothwing rose to her paws, her eyes finally finding Hawkfrost’s. Even from fox-lengths away, she could see the sympathy glittering in her brother’s blue eyes as he stared at her.

“...Mothwing—” Leafpaw’s voice began.

“Goodbye, Leafpaw,” Mothwing muttered, still avoiding looking at the medicine cat apprentice’s face.

Mothwing whirled around and hurried towards the gathering crowd of her Clanmates, and the steady shelter of Hawkfrost’s side as he waited for her there.

Chapter Text

A beautiful moorland sprawled out in front of Crowpaw. With a brisk breeze ruffling his fur and his tail held high, Crowpaw trotted across the golden hills, yellow-green grasses rustling with prey everywhere he glanced and tempting scent trails criss-crossing his path with practically every other step.

Crowpaw’s belly grumbled, and his mouth filled with water at the warm scents. He couldn’t recall when he’d last been in an area with such abundant prey.

I’m not on a hunting patrol. I could stop for a meal.

Almost immediately following that thought, Crowpaw nearly stepped on a mouse that scampered by. Moving swiftly, he scooped it up and killed it with a sharp bite before scarfing it down, soothing his stomach. 

Crowpaw purred as he ate, his eyes half-closing in bliss. He hadn’t had prey this juicy in sunrises— everything else WindClan managed to catch had almost been as dry as their territory. But, after Crowpaw finished his meal and continued onwards, he encountered another stroke of great luck as he happened across a stream that was running with water again. Purring even louder, Crowpaw dipped his head and drank deeply.

I’ll have to tell the others about this! There’s so much prey here and a stream! Tallstar will be so happy that there’s water on our territory again!

Once he was done, Crowpaw lifted his head again, contentment settling over him. For the first time in days, even the sun wasn’t too hot against his back and the air wasn’t too dry, irritating his throat. It was absolutely perfect.

…Perfect for what though? 

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t quite remember how he’d ended up here for some reason. He didn’t normally go out alone; where were his Clanmates? And, also where was he exactly? The moor felt familiar, but as Crowpaw glanced around, he couldn’t discern any recognizable landmarks.

But, a dark flash in the distance did catch his attention. 

The form was clearly feline. Crowpaw’s eyes narrowed into a squint as he tried to make out who it was, but he couldn’t quite tell— the figure was silhouetted by the sun, making identification from this distance impossible, even for the most sharp-sighted WindClan warriors. 

Whoever they were though, they were unmistakably heading in Crowpaw’s direction. Crowpaw took a seat to wait. He wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere— he didn’t even know what he was supposed to be doing, after all. And, regardless of whoever this Clanmate was, they certainly would not be pleased if Crowpaw started running away from them.

Crowpaw didn’t have to wait long. In only a matter of moments, the long grass surrounding Crowpaw rustled, and a strong, black tom came padding out. 

But, at his appearance, Crowpaw’s relaxed attitude vanished, and he instead immediately leapt to his paws, alarms screeching in his head. 

There were no black cats in WindClan besides Nightcloud.

“Who in StarClan’s name are you?!” he hissed, his claws unsheathing and swiping through the dirt.

Crowpaw’s muscles clenched in outrage as he noticed amusement glittering in the black tom’s green eyes as he swept his gaze over Crowpaw intently. Crowpaw crouched down, teetering on the verge of attacking.

“Don’t you recognize me?” the cat asked in a deep, rumbling voice.

Crowpaw’s mouth opened, about to spit an insult at the trespasser, but he hesitated as the distinctive, earthy scent of WindClan settled on his tongue. Crowpaw froze for a beat before closing his jaws, taking a moment to appraise the cat again— this stranger that smelled like WindClan. As Crowpaw studied the tom, his gaze drifted lower and finally came to rest on a twisted forepaw. Crowpaw inhaled sharply, stomach flipping in shock. 

It can’t be.

Slowly, his eyes wide, Crowpaw lifted his gaze from the twisted paw and back to the warrior’s face.

“...Deadfoot?” Crowpaw rasped, his voice hoarse with awe.

Deadfoot’s green eyes sparkled, and he dipped his head in confirmation.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Crowpaw,” Deadfoot murmured.

Crowpaw blinked hard a few times, the world starting to spin dizzyingly around him.

“Oh StarClan…” Crowpaw breathed. “You’re here? I mean like… actually here?”

Deadfoot blinked at him.

“Well, you’re dreaming,” he said gently. “But, yes, I’m actually in your dream.”

“I just– I never thought–” Crowpaw stammered, staring at his father intensely as if he might vanish at any moment if he took his eyes away. “I never thought I’d ever get to meet you. I mean, not until I joined StarClan too.”

Deadfoot purred, although a sadness also clouded his eyes.

“I know. I wish I had been there to watch you grow up. But…” Deadfoot gave his head a shake. “We can’t dwell on that now. Crowpaw, the reason I’m here is to deliver a message to you.”

“To me?” Crowpaw echoed, his already round eyes somehow stretching wider.

Deadfoot nodded.

“Yes. It is very important, so listen closely: Darkness, air, water, and sky will come together, and shake the forest to its roots.”

Crowpaw shivered. Although it was only Deadfoot talking, the words carried a weight with them, as if there were actually thousands of cats speaking at once, across thousands of years, and thousands of leagues.

“What does that mean?” Crowpaw whispered, his ears flattening down against his head.

“A time of great struggle is coming for the forest,” Deadfoot rumbled. “A new prophecy must be fulfilled if the Clans are to survive. You have been chosen to meet with three other cats at the new moon, and you must listen to what midnight tells you.”

“Oh… okay. Okay.” Crowpaw’s whisper grew louder as his conviction strengthened.

He lifted his chin, steely determination filling him. 

“I won’t let you down, Deadfoot,” Crowpaw swore solemnly.

Deadfoot dipped his head, pride glittering in his eyes.

“I know.”

Crowpaw gasped awake, back to having a dry throat and an empty belly. He lifted his head from his nest and was greeted by a sleepily stirring camp in the predawn starlight. Right now though, Crowpaw was anything but sleepy. He stumbled to his paws, every hair on his pelt standing on end as Deadfoot’s words blazed in his mind as brightly as the sun.

A mission from StarClan! For me!

Crowpaw shivered, awe and honor and determination burning in his chest.

I knew it. I knew I’d be able to help WindClan one day! I’m going to save the Clan!

But, he couldn’t do it alone. Deadfoot had told him that he would need to meet with three others. So, his first job would be to figure out who those others were. 

Crowpaw took a deep breath, trying to focus as he glanced around the camp. Except for times of terrible weather, WindClan warriors and apprentices all slept out in the center of camp, beneath the sky and the watchful gaze of their ancestors, so it was quite easy for Crowpaw to search each of his waking Clanmates’ faces to see if anyone seemed agitated or unsettled, like they’d also gotten a dream from StarClan. 

But, before Crowpaw could uncover any leads, his gaze met with Mudclaw’s, and his mentor narrowed his eyes in an almost suspicious way as he took in Crowpaw’s unusually excited demeanor. 

Crowpaw’s ears twisted back, his eagerness fading.

Oh no, is Mudclaw one of the other cats?! StarClan wouldn’t do that to me, right?

“Crowpaw,” Mudclaw called, beckoning him over to him with a flick of his tail. “We’re on water patrol this morning. We’ve got to get going before it gets too hot.”

Mudclaw glanced around at the other warriors.

“Onewhisker, you come too. And, Nightcloud,” he ordered.

Ugh, Nightcloud!

Crowpaw’s muzzle crinkled up in disgust as the rest of his good mood took leave of him. 

A part of him wanted to protest at this task.

Why should I have to trek down to the river on water patrol, stuck with Nightcloud, Onewhisker, and Mudclaw, when I have StarClan-given orders to carry out!?

Crowpaw gave his head a small shake, knocking the thought away and reminding himself of his duties to his Clan. Just because StarClan gave him a mission, that didn’t mean that he could shirk all his other responsibilities. Rain still had not come, and the queens, kits, and elders needed water.

Besides, Deadfoot said we have to meet by midnight on the new moon. That’s over a quarter moon away. I have plenty of time to figure out who the others are.

Crowpaw could continue his investigation when he got back. Right now, he just had to survive a patrol with Nightcloud, although that would be a difficult task. When she padded over and noticed Crowpaw standing next to Mudclaw, she gave her long, black fur an irritable shake as if she could dislodge Crowpaw’s presence like she could a nagging fly. Crowpaw bit back a growl in response.

“Alright,” Mudclaw barked to the patrol. “Let’s go grab some moss from Barkface to take to the river, then we’ll be off.”

As dawn brightened the sky from indigo to blue, Crowpaw found himself walking at the back of the patrol, carrying a bundle of dry moss tucked under his chin as they made the long trek down to the river. Transporting water via moss wasn’t super efficient, but while the queens and elders could make the journey down to the river if they so desired, the kits could not yet. 

Nightcloud walked just a few steps ahead of Crowpaw, and he took a small amount of smug satisfaction in that Mudclaw was having her carry a bundle of moss too, not just Crowpaw. 

Crowpaw studied Nightcloud from the corner of his eyes as they continued to walk. Maybe she was just sulking about the fact that the look of moss tucked beneath her chin was rather unbecoming, but Crowpaw found Nightcloud’s silence a bit odd— normally she’d take any opportunity given to taunt Crowpaw. But, today she seemed to be thinking on something, her eyes locked straight ahead, but not gazing at anything in particular. Crowpaw’s pelt prickled, an uneasy feeling swirling in him.

Could she have also gotten a dream last night?

Crowpaw’s tail-tip flicked nervously. Nightcloud would have been one of the last cats he would have picked for StarClan’s mission... But, if she did have the dream, he had to know.

“Um…” Crowpaw began hesitantly, and he immediately regretted saying anything when Nightcloud’s sharp gaze flashed back at him, her expression already annoyed.

But, Crowpaw wasn’t going to let Nightcloud scare him. 

He steeled himself.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Nightcloud’s face wrinkled up like she smelled crowfood.

“What’s it to you?” she demanded, confusion and suspicion darkening her expression.

Crowpaw ground his teeth together, a desperate desire to end this conversation already filling him, but he nobly pressed on.

“I dunno. Just wondering if you had any weird dreams or anything?” he said, doing his best to keep his tone as civil as possible. “I had a pretty strange one.”

Nightcloud snorted derisively, rolling her eyes.

“What? Have a bit of bad rabbit last night or something?” she sneered. “Did it give you nightmares?”

Crowpaw’s pelt spiked up, irritation sparking on his fur. Why did he even try saying anything at all to Nightcloud? Of course she didn’t know anything useful!

“Nevermind,” Crowpaw snapped hotly. “Sorry for trying to make conversation.”

Crowpaw put on a small burst of speed to catch up with Onewhisker. Even his yammering would be preferable to Nightcloud right now.

However, by the time they reached their border with RiverClan, Crowpaw’s irritation hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown stronger, and it was certainly not helped by the snide comments Nightcloud kept making for the rest of their journey there about Crowpaw’s ‘nightmares.’ Crowpaw was about ready to claw her fur off.

Just shut up already!

Mudclaw didn’t hesitate at the scent markers, instead striding right over them and towards the twoleg bridge and the river that rushed beneath it. Crowpaw and the rest of the patrol followed close behind. 

Crowpaw ditched his moss bundle a few tail-lengths away from the water’s edge, so he could first bend his head to take a long and savoring drink from the river. The water was still cool from the night, and it soothed his parched tongue. The sensation took a small edge off of his irritation, although it didn’t dissipate it entirely.

Once Crowpaw’s thirst was finally quenched, he lifted his head, twitching droplets off the ends of his whiskers.

A warm scent suddenly drifted into Crowpaw’s nose, making his stomach rumble. It was a vole, and it was close too. The abundance of prey that WindClan had enjoyed only a moon ago was gone— driven away by the drought and heat, gone to shelter in the cooler, wetter forested territories. Now WindClan’s prey was almost as rare as their water. Crowpaw’s mind drifted to his dream, a longing to go back to that prey-filled paradise filling him.

Could this drought be the trouble that Deadfoot was warning me about? How it’s driving away all our food and water?

Crowpaw gave his head a small shake to dislodge the thought. There was no way to tell that right now. But, something he could worry about was catching that vole to bring back to the queens and elders. 

Onewhisker glanced over at Crowpaw, noticing him scenting the air, and his eyes widened.

“Don’t even think about it,” Onewhisker hissed, his neck fur rising slightly. “You know what Leopardstar said at the Gathering. If we get caught taking any prey, then we won’t be allowed to drink from the river anymore!”

“Then I won’t get caught,” Crowpaw retorted sharply, but kept his voice hushed, just in case any RiverClan cats were nearby. “But, we need this food, don’t we? RiverClan has plenty more swimming in the river! They won’t miss a couple of pieces of land prey that they’d turn their noses up at anyway.”

Onewhisker shifted from paw to paw uncertainly.

“Crowpaw’s right,” Mudclaw broke in, and Crowpaw glanced at his mentor in surprise at his defense.

Mudclaw gazed back at him with unreadable eyes.

“Go. But be quick about it.”

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crowpaw’s pelt, and he nodded, slipping swiftly into the sedge bushes, on the vole’s trail.

Crowpaw wasn’t used to hunting in such marshy terrain, but he did his best, keeping his body held low as he brushed through the dense water-side plants and placing his paws down carefully, so he didn’t squelch in any mud. The vole scent was strong and easy to track. It wasn’t long before he spotted it through some gaps in the sedge, scuffling in the dirt. Crowpaw froze for a moment before creeping forward even more slowly and carefully.

But, his unfamiliarity with the environment came back to bite him when his tail brushed against a couple of noisy reeds that clattered together. The vole took off with a soft squeak, and swallowing back a curse, Crowpaw sprung after it.

I can’t let it get away!

Crowpaw shot forward with as much speed as he could muster, and he managed to catch up with the vole in only a few bounds. His paws slammed against the small body, killing it instantly. Victory swelling in his chest, Crowpaw scooped up his prize. It was small, but it would at least fill one elder’s belly.

The undergrowth behind Crowpaw rustled, and he whirled around, fearful he had been caught by RiverClan warriors, but it was only the rest of his patrol coming out to check on him.

“Good, you got it,” Mudclaw said in a loud whisper. “Now let’s get back to the river before anyone shows up. We’ve crossed RiverClan’s border with ThunderClan.”

Crowpaw’s ears flicked with surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the scent-markers in his haste to get the vole.

Crowpaw nodded and slunk after Mudclaw, Onewhisker, and Nightcloud. Mudclaw hesitated as they pushed their way out of a dense patch of undergrowth, his amber eyes narrowing.

“Quick, over the border. I can smell ThunderClan,” he murmured.

“I’m not surprised,” a deep voice growled from close behind them.

Alarm lurched in Crowpaw’s gut, his muzzle snapping towards the voice. Three ThunderClan cats had emerged from the bracken and were sizing up the WindClan patrol. Crowpaw quickly recognized the two dark tabby warriors from Gatherings— the slimmer one was the senior warrior, Dustpelt, and the hulking one a younger warrior named Brambleclaw. But, Crowpaw didn’t know who the small dark ginger she-cat was. Although, judging by her show of hissing and tail-lashing, she must have thought herself pretty important.

Her furious green eyes made direct contact with Crowpaw’s, and she released a loud growl. Crowpaw scoffed to himself.

Does she seriously think she’s scary?

He just curled his lip back at her to flash his fangs in response, still gripping the vole tightly in his mouth.

“What are you doing on our territory?” Dustpelt snarled. “As if I need to ask.”

“We’re not stealing prey,” Mudclaw retorted.

“Then what’s that? A vole-shaped stick?” the red-furred she-cat sneered, flicking her tail toward the prey in Crowpaw’s mouth.

Crowpaw rumbled a low growl.

What an arrogant little furball!

Onewhisker stepped forward, his head bowed slightly with shame.

“It’s not a ThunderClan vole,” he muttered, staring down at his paws. “It crossed the border from RiverClan. We’re sorry to have trespassed.”

Crowpaw glared at the back of Onewhisker’s head, wishing that he could feel Crowpaw’s fury bouncing off his skull.

What are you doing, you stupid rabbit-brain?! Don’t apologize to them! WindClan needs this prey!

Nightcloud released a wordless hiss, anger glittering in her eyes, although Crowpaw couldn’t tell if it was directed at the ThunderClan cats, or if she shared Crowpaw’s thoughts about Onewhisker.

“Even if that’s true, you’re stealing it from RiverClan,” the ThunderClan warrior, Brambleclaw, pointed out, his tone unbearably patronizing.

Brambleclaw’s disdainful amber eyes met Crowpaw’s blue ones, and Crowpaw felt his anger building more and more, roaring in his ears like a flood until it was about to wash him away. 

“You’re allowed to drink from the river, not to take prey,” Brambleclaw lectured. “Leopardstar said that—”

Crowpaw dropped the vole from his jaws, a furious snarl exploding from his throat.

“Mind your own business!” he spat, lunging at the ThunderClan warrior.

A jolt of vicious satisfaction rocked Crowpaw as Brambleclaw’s eyes widened, the scorn in them turning to shock as Crowpaw collided with him. 

Crowpaw’s leap had enough power behind it that he was able to knock the much larger warrior off his paws, but soon Brambleclaw would regain his footing and likely overpower him. Crowpaw had to incapacitate him before he had the chance.

Crowpaw snapped for Brambleclaw’s neck, his fangs catching on the loose fur near his shoulder. Brambleclaw gasped in pain, digging his claws into Crowpaw’s sides. Crowpaw grunted as Brambleclaw’s claws raked across his skin, but he shoved away the sensation, focusing instead on kicking his hind paws against Brambleclaw’s belly, clawing up pawfuls of fur.

Suddenly, sharp teeth met Crowpaw’s scruff, yanking him off of the ThunderClan warrior. Spitting furiously, Crowpaw ripped his scruff free and whirled towards his new attacker, expecting to see Dustpelt or the little ginger furball. Instead, he was greeted by Onewhisker’s smoldering gaze.

“Enough, Crowpaw!” Onewhisker snarled. “Attacking a ThunderClan warrior when we’re trespassing on their territory? What next?”

Crowpaw stared at his Clanmate in equal parts disbelief and fury.

He’s taking ThunderClan’s side?!

“He called us thieves!” Crowpaw spat.

Onewhisker’s eyes narrowed.

“And he was right, wasn’t he?” Onewhisker turned to Dustpelt. “I’m sorry, Dustpelt. For the vole and for this apprentice’s behavior. I swear, it is a RiverClan vole, and I know we shouldn’t have taken it, but there’s hardly any prey in our own territory. Our elders and kits are hungry, and—”

“Onewhisker!” Mudclaw hissed sharply, his gaze blazing with anger.

Onewhisker cut himself off, but he’d already said too much. And, for once, Crowpaw was nearly perfectly aligned with his mentor’s feelings— in fact, Crowpaw’s whole body was practically vibrating with fury. 

How could Onewhisker say all that?! Was he really planning on spilling all of WindClan’s weaknesses to an enemy Clan?

But, Onewhisker didn’t turn to face his Clanmates' anger, instead, he just kept his attention on the ThunderClan cats.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

“The vole’s between you and RiverClan,” Dustpelt meowed coldly. “And, because of WindClan’s long alliance with ThunderClan, and your friendship with Firestar, Onewhisker, I’ll forgive the apprentice’s impertinence— this time. Just get out of our territory, and stay out.”

Onewhisker dipped his head to the ThunderClan cats again. Fuming, Crowpaw snatched the vole back up with one final icy look at the ThunderClan patrol before following Mudclaw and Nightcloud away without a word, leaving Onewhisker to trail behind.

The scrapes Brambleclaw had left on Crowpaw’s sides stung, but they weren’t deep. Crowpaw ignored them as he followed Mudclaw back into RiverClan territory.

Mudclaw was barely keeping himself in check. He was growling loudly, tail lashing, and pelt bristling. But, he managed to wait until they were all back in the relative privacy and safety beneath the twoleg bridge, before whipping around to face Onewhisker.

“What in StarClan’s name was that?!” Mudclaw spat, digging his claws into the ground. “How dare you tell ThunderClanners such sensitive information!”

Onewhisker’s ears angled back.

“What else would you have had me do?” he demanded. “We had to explain ourselves! Do you think Tallstar wants us starting fights with our closest allies?”

“You should have let me, the deputy, do the talking!” Mudclaw yowled, glowering at Onewhisker. “You absolutely rabbit-brained fool!”

Onewhisker just blinked hard, like he didn’t know what to say to that, and Mudclaw snarled, raking his claws through the earth as he tore his gaze away from him.

“I don’t even want you in my sight right now,” Mudclaw spat. “You will be responsible for carrying all the wet moss back for the queens, kits, and elders. I don’t care if it takes you all day, but you will not rest once until their thirst is stated. Crowpaw, Nightcloud, come on.”

With that, Mudclaw stomped off. Nightcloud gave Onewhisker a final cold look before following, and Crowpaw was close behind her. 

“Onewhisker is so soft on ThunderClan,” Nightcloud scoffed as they entered back into WindClan territory. “It’s disgusting really— the way he trails after Firestar like a puppy.”

Mudclaw nodded vehemently.

“The utter disloyalty of telling that patrol about WindClan’s situation!” Mudclaw spat, his tail whipping from side to side. “And, then claiming it’s what Tallstar would have wanted! Unbelievable!”

Crowpaw grunted in agreement, and Mudclaw’s gaze flashed to him, making Crowpaw’s shoulders stiffen in sudden apprehension. Crowpaw had learned through his long apprenticeship that when Mudclaw was worked up in such a frenzy, it was usually a bad idea to catch his attention, or else he might turn his ire onto him.

“You could’ve handled yourself better too,” Mudclaw growled. “I have no love for ThunderClan, but you should not have attacked unprovoked.”

Crowpaw’s eyes narrowed, a growl beginning to rumble in his throat.

“You heard what they were saying! I was defending WindClan,” Crowpaw mumbled around the vole in his jaws.

“No,” Mudclaw snapped, his ears flat against his head. “If you were really doing what was best for WindClan, you would’ve let me handle it. You, like Onewhisker, need to learn when to shut up and stand down.”

“I would never give WindClan secrets away like Onewhisker did!” Crowpaw protested.

Crowpaw jerked to a sudden stop as Mudclaw stopped walking to whip around to face him, his entire pelt bristling.

“Silence, Crowpaw!” Mudclaw roared, his amber eyes blazing like the sun. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! You argue with everything I say! If you can’t learn to take orders, to listen to your elders, you’ll never become a warrior and just remain a bratty apprentice forever!”

Crowpaw’s eyes widened, anger, hurt, and humiliation mingling together in his chest. Even Nightcloud from behind Mudclaw, looked a bit surprised at Mudclaw’s outburst.

But, as was typical, anger quickly won out for Crowpaw, and it blazed through his body, lighting his veins on fire.

You wouldn’t think that way if you knew StarClan came to me last night! They’ve chosen me for a very important mission to save WindClan! Me! Not you!

But, Crowpaw bit back the words. After all, Nightcloud hadn’t taken his mention of his dream well, and since he was just a ‘bratty apprentice’ to Mudclaw, would he even believe him? Or, worse, what if Mudclaw did believe him, but forbade him from acting on the dream?

Crowpaw clenched his jaw, sinking his fangs more deeply into the vole, but he didn’t care that he was mangling the prey.

Mudclaw can’t stop me. I will follow the destiny StarClan has given me, no matter what he thinks.

But, I’ll have to keep my dream to myself. I’ll just also keep my ears pricked to listen to my Clanmates, so I can find the three other chosen.

As the silence stretched on and Crowpaw didn’t try to argue with Mudclaw— or even respond at all— Mudclaw’s fur began to flatten. He gave Crowpaw a curt nod.

“Good,” Mudclaw growled. “It looks like you are finally starting to learn something after all.”

Chapter Text

The hot greenleaf sun beat down on the RiverClan camp, and Mothwing lounged listlessly at the edge of the island, half-sheltered in the shadows of the reeds. The fresh-kill pile was full of fish, the borders were patrolled, and most of RiverClan didn’t have much else to do, so many warriors simply laid around at camp, grooming their glossy pelts to perfection and soaking up the sunshine.

Mothwing sighed to herself. A part of her felt like being busy might be better. It could take her mind off of the unhappiness that had loomed over her like a storm ever since the Gathering, and only got worse with each passing day as no sign from StarClan came.

Misery swirled in Mothwing’s belly.

Why has StarClan not said anything? Is it true that they don’t want me to become a medicine cat because of my outsider blood? Or is it because of the blood I share with Tigerstar?

Mothwing’s ears flattened down.

Or maybe the problem is just who I am? Am I not devout enough?

Mothwing’s apprenticeship had been pretty much the same as any RiverClan-born cat’s, and so she learned the same basic information about StarClan as everyone else. But, maybe cats that got to be medicine cats didn’t view StarClan like everyone else— maybe they were just better at connecting with StarClan than Mothwing was.

Maybe I should have asked that little ThunderClan tabby about it at the Gathering.

Mothwing unhappily turned her gaze onto her Clanmates, watching them as they went about their cheery lives, blissfully unaware of her pain.

Mosspelt hummed pleasantly to herself as she and Dawnflower wove reeds into the side of the nursery, reenforcing it. Vixenleap came padding into camp, her black pelt still slick with water and something held in her mouth. She walked up to Shadepelt and dropped a shimmering, smooth, pale-blue stone at her paws, murmuring something to her. Shadepelt purred, rising to her paws to rub her face against her mate’s in thanks for the gift before taking the stone to their nest to arrange it with her stash of others.

Mothwing watched her as she did so— it could at least offer a very brief distraction from her own thoughts.

Shadepelt and Vixenleap had been exchanging gifts and trinkets since they first started courting a season ago. Most couples slowed their gift-giving down to only special occasions once their courting was done, and they’d officially become mates. But, Shadepelt and Vixenleap hadn’t, and now their nest was by far the most decorated in the Clan. 

Mothwing glanced back at her sparse nest. She’d tried weaving flowers in it before like some of her Clanmates did, but had stopped when Hawkfrost had scoffed that they would just wilt and rot and need to be replaced in a few sunrises. So, the only things she had were a couple of shells, an interesting jet-black stone that glittered like the night sky, and a hawk feather— she had actually found two of those and attempted to give one to Hawkfrost since it reminded her of him, but she wasn’t sure if he had actually kept it.

Mothwing turned her eyes back to the camp, her gaze skimming over Stormfur as he entertained a group of warriors. Sedgecreek, Heavystep, and Grasswhisker listened attentively as Stormfur recounted a recent fight he’d gotten into with a dog. As he described how he’d dodged the hound’s attempts to catch him until it went howling back to its twolegs in frustration, the group purred with amusement

Idly, Mothwing wondered if Stormfur reminded the older warriors of RiverClan’s former leader, Crookedstar, who had also been Stormfur’s grandfather. Mistyfoot did always say that Stormfur had gotten his mother Silverstream’s easy charm, while Feathertail had gotten her razor wit.

At the thought of Mistyfoot and Feathertail, Mothwing’s gaze sought them out. Mistyfoot and Feathertail were lying side-by-side as they shared tongues on the other side of camp. Mistyfoot’s three kits wrestled nearby them, half-playing and half-practicing their battle moves.

Despite herself, Mothwing felt a sharp pang of jealousy as she looked at her former mentor. Mothwing had been her apprentice, just the same as Feathertail, but it was clear which cat Mistyfoot favored. 

Mothwing knew why— after Feathertail's and Stormfur's mother Silverstream died while birthing them, Mistyfoot had been like a mother to the siblings when they were kits. Then there was also the time that was only spoken about in whispers— when Tigerstar ruled RiverClan, turning it and ShadowClan into one Clan called TigerClan. Mothwing knew during that time Mistyfoot’s brother, Stonefur, who had also been Stormfur’s mentor, had ended up being killed by Tigerstar. So, of course Mistyfoot would be close to the two littermates, having been bonded by that tragedy.

But, even knowing all that logically, it still didn’t erase the hurt Mothwing felt when Mistyfoot made it so obvious who she cared for more.

If only Feathertail liked me and Hawkfrost, then we could all spend time together.

Mothwing frowned slightly as she had another thought.

Or, maybe not, since Hawkfrost would still not like Stormfur.

Mothwing glanced over to the side at the sound of pawsteps, and she stiffened as caught sight of Mudfur’s dappled brown pelt.

“How are you doing?” Mudfur asked her, blinking concerned amber eyes down at her.

Mothwing looked away.

“Fine,” she said curtly.

Mudfur sighed, his thick-furred tail swishing slowly behind him.

“I know you’re still upset,” he said in a low voice. “But, this was the best I could do. We always knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”

Mothwing closed her eyes for a moment, her ears twisting back.

“I know. I’m not upset with you,” she murmured. “I’m upset at the situation. And, that StarClan hasn’t sent a sign yet.”

Mothwing’s eyes opened again as tight anxiety coiled in her chest.

“...I don’t think they ever will,” she added in a hoarse whisper.

Mudfur dipped his head, touching his nose to Mothwing’s ear reassuringly.

“Don’t give up hope just yet, Mothwing,” he murmured. 

Mudfur straightened and turned aside.

“Keep faith,” he urged from over his shoulder before he padded away.

Mothwing sighed to herself again, lowering her chin down to her paws, and she closed her eyes, trying to drown her unhappiness in sleep.

One of Mothwing’s ears flicked at the sound of arguing, pulling her from her nap. Her eyes opened, and she lifted her head as she listened with a dull interest as Mistyfoot and Leopardstar’s voices rose from across the camp.

The leader and deputy arguing was hardly a novel occurrence— they were always squabbling about something. But, the topic of their fights had shifted in the past few days from their usual spats featuring Leopardstar critically micromanaging Mistyfoot’s patrol organizing, and Mistyfoot complaining about Leopardstar’s overreach into the deputy’s role, to about WindClan drinking from the river. 

From what Leopardstar was saying now, apparently, WindClan scent had been picked up outside of the area that had been designated to them under the twoleg bridge, and she was spitting mad.

“They must be stealing prey!” she snarled, her tail whipping from side to side. “It’s the only reasonable explanation!”

“There could be another reason,” Mistyfoot advocated in a much calmer tone. “Perhaps it was an accidental misstep. Or, maybe they haven’t trespassed at all, and the wind just blew their scents over—” 

“No!” Leopardstar spat, cutting her off. “Do you seriously believe that those could just be wind-blown scents, Mistyfoot?! You’ve always been too soft-hearted on the other Clans!”

Mistyfoot’s eyes flashed with anger for a moment.

“And, you’ve always been too cold-hearted towards them!” she retorted, before inhaling deeply, attempting to calm down again. “…Leopardstar, listen to reason. WindClan isn’t a threat. They are clearly weak and desperate—“

“Which is exactly why they are a threat!” Leopardstar declared, her tail lashing. “Desperate cats will do anything to survive!”

Mistyfoot sighed wearily, shaking her head.

“We have no hard proof of their wrong-doing— just scents. If we had found prey blood, or if someone had witnessed them trespassing, I would feel differently. But, at least for now, allow us to wait until the next Gathering before making a decision about barring them from drinking at the river.”

Leopardstar gave a low, discontented growl.

“Fine,” she rumbled. “But, if these straying scents continue before then, I will have a guard posted all day and night at the twoleg bridge if necessary.”

Mistyfoot’s tail twitched with exasperation, but she bowed her head, conceding to Leopardstar.

“If that’s what you want,” she said.

“It is,” Leopardstar said curtly, turning aside.

But, before she walked away, she glanced back at her deputy from over her shoulder.

“Oh, and Mistyfoot,” Leopardstar added in a low, dangerously soft voice, “I went out on a limb for WindClan because you vouched for them. So, if they are stealing for RiverClan… it’s on you.”

With that, Leopardstar stalked off, vanishing into her den at the roots of the Ancient Willow. Mistyfoot remained in the camp, her pelt still bristling slightly as she stared after her leader. After a few moments, Stormfur walked up to her and murmured something to her. Mistyfoot nodded in response, and Stormfur turned away, gathering Reedpaw to him along with Mosspelt and Swallowpaw.

“Let’s go check around the twoleg bridge,” Mothwing could hear Stormfur meow to them.

The patrol headed towards the camp’s exit, and Mothwing gazed after them.

“Ew, why are you staring at Stormfur?”

Mothwing’s ears twisted back irritably as she glanced over at Hawkfrost, who had appeared at her side, his nose crinkled up in faint disgust.

“I’m not staring,” she retorted. “I was just watching his patrol leave camp.”

“Are you sure?” Hawkfrost asked in that enigmatic way of his, which made it impossible for Mothwing to tell if he was joking or not. “You seemed awfully chummy with him at the Gathering.”

“Why are you so obsessed with Stormfur?” Mothwing snapped, her pelt beginning to bristle with annoyance. “The only reason I was sitting with him and Feathertail and Mistyfoot at the Gathering was because you ditched me to go rub shoulders with the other Clans.”

“I thought you wanted to sit with Mudfur and the medicine cats!” Hawkfrost protested.

Mothwing grumbled to herself, burying her nose in her paws.

“Well, I couldn’t. I’m not a medicine cat,” she muttered.

Hawkfrost didn’t respond to that. Instead, he just glared after Stormfur’s patrol as well, watching the reeds that still swayed from the cats pushing through.

“...To answer your question as to why I’m so ‘obsessed’ with Stormfur, as you put it, it’s because of ridiculous fox-dung like this,” Hawkfrost said, jabbing his tail in the direction that Stormfur’s patrol left in. “He’s always getting special treatment. Don’t lie and say you haven’t noticed it too. I mean, of course Mistyfoot sends her golden-boy to go check on WindClan.”

Hawkfrost scoffed, shaking his head and taking a seat at Mothwing’s side.

“But not me, even though I’m the one that picked up the scents in the first place.”

“It looked to me that Stormfur asked if he could go check it out,” Mothwing pointed out. “If you wanted to lead the patrol, you should have been quicker on your paws, brother.”

Hawkfrost huffed.

“As if Mistyfoot would have picked me over him anyway,” he sniffed.

Despite Mothwing’s earlier negative thoughts about Mistyfoot, she felt an urge to defend her former mentor.

“She might have. All of RiverClan knows what a dutiful warrior you are,” Mothwing said. 

Hawkfrost just hummed noncommittally in response before giving his head a small shake as if to dislodge the unpleasant thoughts.

“Anyway though, being left at camp at least lets me spend more time with my favorite sister,” Hawkfrost said, his voice brightening as he nudged Mothwing’s shoulder.

Mothwing gave a small huff of laughter.

“I’m your only sister,” she said drily.

Hawkfrost’s eyes flashed with mischief.

“Not true. Only full sister maybe—”

Sudden worry lurched in Mothwing’s belly.

“Shh!” she silenced him quickly, glancing nervously around at their nearby Clanmates.

“Relax.” Hawkfrost rolled his eyes. “No one heard.”

“But, someone could have,” Mothwing retorted. “Stars, Hawkfrost. You need to be more careful.”

Hawkfrost’s muzzle wrinkled in a brief look of annoyance at her scolding, but then he rose to his feet, his expression smoothing again.

“Then let’s get out of camp and go somewhere we can speak freely about whatever we wish,” Hawkfrost said.

Mothwing sighed, weariness dragging at her.

“Look, Hawkfrost. I don’t really feel—”

“Just because you’re moping, doesn’t mean that you get to slack off on all your duties to the Clan,” Hawkfrost declared. “I know Mistyfoot has been going easy on you when assigning patrols, so you haven’t done anything all day. One little hunt with me won’t kill you.”

An irritable growl rumbled in Mothwing’s chest, but Hawkfrost stared down at her, totally unmoving.

“...Fine,” she grumbled when it became clear he wouldn’t be swayed, getting to her paws.

Hawkfrost’s tail curled up in delight.

“Excellent,” he purred. “I know the perfect fishing spot.”

Mothwing soon found herself sitting at the bank near a slow-moving part of the river— no happier, but now fishing. Mothwing’s eyes narrowed as she squinted through the glare of the sunlight against the surface to watch a fish dart towards her. She flashed her paw out, swiping for it.

“Oh fox-dung!” Mothwing cursed loudly as the fish slipped away from between her claws.

“Oof, bad luck sis!” Hawkfrost called from further downstream, splashing out of the water with a fish of his own clutched in his jaws.

He trotted back over to her and dropped it on the ground next to his other two large catches, and Mothwing’s singular, little minnow.

“Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with Mudfur. You’ve forgotten that, unlike plants, real prey actually tries to get away from you,” Hawkfrost teased with a mischievous flick of his tail.

Mothwing scowled at the mention of the medicine cat.

“Very funny,” she muttered bitterly, gazing down into the water with a paw raised, waiting for another fish to come her way.

One was darting in the shallows just a few tail-lengths over, but as it debated swimming closer, it shot off when a shadow suddenly fell over the water in front of Mothwing. 

With a sharp noise of indignation, Mothwing glared upwards. Hawkfrost loomed over her, casting the shadow that was frightening away her prey.

“Hawkfrost, what the–? You just scared off my fish!” Mothwing snapped.

Hawkfrost’s eyes narrowed as he gazed down at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a serious voice.

“What’s wrong is that you’re botching my fishing, you minnow-brain!” Mothwing growled, rising to her paws and padding a few tail-lengths away from him and his obtrusive shadow before taking up position again.

Hawkfrost stubbornly followed her to her new fishing spot.

“Not that,” he grumbled. “You’ve been brooding all day, and you’ve barely spoken to me at all during this hunt!”

“Because I didn’t even want to go fishing,” Mothwing hissed, her tail starting to twitch in annoyance. “You dragged me out here!”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up!” Hawkfrost spat back, his tail now lashing as well.

“Well maybe I don’t want to be cheered up!” Mothwing shouted, completely giving up on fishing. Instead, she splashed a paw against the water’s surface as frustration raked sharp claws down her sides. “You’re joking about me hunting plants, but the truth is, Mudfur hasn’t let me stick a whisker in the medicine cat’s den since the disaster at the Gathering nearly a half a moon ago! He’d let me help out before, but now he’s acting like I’m banned from doing any kind of healing entirely! So, maybe I don’t want to be out here fishing right now. Maybe I just want to lie around and be sad for a few days because all my dreams are ruined!”

Hawkfrost scoffed incredulously.

“Ruined? Why are you still on this ‘being a medicine cat’ nonsense? Have you really not gotten over it at all yet?” he asked.

Mothwing whirled on him, her jaw falling open in shock and hurt at his callousness.

“Nonsense?!” she echoed, her voice hiking up in pitch and volume. “You think my dream is nonsense?”

“Mothwing, listen to me,” Hawkfrost said in a low, placating voice, stepping closer so they were almost nose-to-nose. “I don’t think being a medicine cat is nonsense. But, it might not actually be the dream you think it is. It’s not like being a medicine cat is always great all the time, you know? Have you really considered all that being a medicine cat entails? You could never take a mate or have kits. You wouldn’t be able to do all the things normal warriors can. You already feel like an outcast in the Clan, and this would only isolate you more from our Clanmates. So, maybe being a medicine cat wasn’t your dream, but it was more of a… fantasy.”

Mothwing’s ears flattened down against her head. She couldn’t believe that Hawkfrost, her own brother, was saying these things to her!

“You don’t think I could do it?” Mothwing bared her fangs. “You eel-heart. I thought you believed in me, but you’re just like the rest of them!”

Hawkfrost let out a low growl of annoyance.

“That’s not it. You’re a brilliant warrior, Moth, and I’m sure you could be a good medicine cat too. But, maybe cats like you and I, maybe we aren’t suited for roles like that.”

Mothwing’s pelt bristled with defensiveness. 

“Oh, so I’m not suited to be a medicine cat, but you are suited for deputy and leadership?” she snapped.

Surprise flashed in Hawkfrost’s blue eyes, and Mothwing snorted in disbelief.

“Don’t give me that look. You don’t think I’ve seen the way you watch Mistyfoot, evaluating how you could do her job better than her? Or, the jealous glances you send to Stormfur when Mistyfoot makes him leader of patrols? Or, how she recommended him to Leopardstar to be one of her kits' mentors, but not you? Obviously I’ve put the pieces together about why exactly those things bother you so much.”

The first appearance of anger darkened Hawkfrost’s face.

“That’s different,” he growled. “Firestar became Clan leader—”

“And, he had a whole StarClan-given prophecy about him, remember?” Mothwing snapped.

“Russetfur used to be rogue—”

“So did half of ShadowClan’s other warriors,” Mothwing fired back. “But, do you seriously think our Clanmates in RiverClan would accept a rogue-born deputy or leader?” 

Mothwing shook her head derisively. “Maybe the truth of it is that neither of us are suited for RiverClan.”

Hawkfrost stared at her, his eyes wide with shock as he was dead silent for a heartbeat.

“...You can’t mean that,” he finally said in a soft voice.

“Well maybe I do,” Mothwing snapped hotly. “Can’t you see? I don’t want to be a warrior! I don’t want to spend my life getting into pointless, petty scraps over drinking privileges from the river! If I can’t be a medicine cat, what’s the point in me staying?”

Hawkfrost’s lip curled back into a snarl.

“Because this is our home! Because I’m here!” he hissed. “You’d abandon RiverClan? Just because you don’t like fighting to defend it? How mouse-hearted are you?!”

Mothwing shook her head. “No! That’s not what I meant. Of course I don’t want to leave you or Mistyfoot. And, if it came to that, I’d want you to leave with me. But… don’t you understand, Hawk? I’m just not happy in RiverClan right now.”

Hawkfrost’s claws unsheathed and dug into the ground, his legs trembling as a flood of emotion suddenly washed over his expression, utterly shattering what remained of his composed exterior.

“No! I don’t understand! I don’t understand why you can’t be happy as a warrior!” Hawkfrost exploded, his eyes welling with hurt. “Why is that not good enough for you?! Why am I not good enough for you?”

Mothwing’s brow furrowed in confusion and surprise at the sudden turn in conversation.

“W– what?” she meowed. “What are you talking about?”

Hawkfrost bared his teeth, his ears flat against his skull and his face scrunched up in pain.

“After Tadpole died and Sasha left, we only had each other. We swore to always stay together. To look out for each other. But, now you’re talking about leaving me, if you can’t become a medicine cat? Although it’d be hardly better if you did!” he spat.

Mothwing shook her head.

“Hawk, this has nothing to do with you. It’s my dream. And, if I became a medicine cat, I wouldn’t be leaving you. I’d just be sleeping in a different den—”

“‘Medicine cats play a special role,’” Hawkfrost snapped. “‘They transcend Clan divisions. Their first loyalty is to StarClan and each other.’ Isn’t that what we were taught? Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes. But—” Mothwing began.

“Then how can you say you wouldn’t be leaving me?” Hawkfrost demanded, his tail whipping back and forth. “If you do this, things between us will never be the same again. You’d go… somewhere I couldn’t ever follow.”

Mothwing’s ears twisted back.

“But, wouldn’t that small price be worth it?” she pleaded.

Hawkfrost stared at her like she’d just declared that she could fly. He shook his head incredulously, but Mothwing took a step closer to him, desperate to make him understand.

“I would be healing cats. Saving lives,” she said. “That’s what I want to do. I want to help cats. I want to save others, like we couldn’t with Tadpole—”

“Don’t you dare use Tadpole against me like that,” Hawkfrost hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits. “He was my brother too.”

“But it’s true!” Mothwing said, her heart aching as she gazed at Hawkfrost and the torment that raged across his expression. “Just try to understand. Please, Hawk.”

“Stop calling me that!” Hawkfrost thundered, his blue gaze suddenly blazing. “I’m a RiverClan warrior. My name is Hawkfrost.”

Mothwing’s stomach knotted painfully. Any lingering embers of anger in her chest dimmed and winked out of existence as, instead, she just felt ill.

Of course Mothwing knew that ‘Hawkfrost’ was his real name. But, the shortened monikers were old, affectionate remnants of their kithood, although as they’d gotten older, they’d grown careful to only ever use them in private conversations with each other.

He must be truly distraught if he was rejecting them now. 

I went too far.

“I– I’m sorry,” Mothwing stammered. “I’m sorry, Hawkfrost. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

Hawkfrost didn’t respond. He just stared at her, his eyes as cold as a leafbare storm. Mothwing attempted another couple steps in his direction, until they were close enough to touch. Hesitantly, she reached her tail out, brushing it down his bristling pelt in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry that I said I’d leave RiverClan. I wouldn’t do that. I was upset and not thinking straight,” Mothwing said, her voice low and soothing. “But, I promise, even if I become a medicine cat, we will still see each other every day. We will always be in RiverClan together. You’re my brother, and the most important cat in the world to me. Nothing will ever change that.”

Hawkfrost’s prickling pelt slowly flattened, although his blue eyes remained freezing and sharp chips of ice as he stared at her for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned his piercing gaze away to glance down at their fish pile.

“I think we’ve caught enough,” Hawkfrost muttered. “Let’s go back to camp.”

He bent his head to scoop up two of the four fish and stalked away without another word, leaving Mothwing gazing after him alone.

Chapter Text

A moonless night greeted Crowpaw as his eyes flickered open. Everything appeared pitch-black at first, but the sky was clear and the stars were shining. As Crowpaw lifted his head slowly and carefully from his nest, his vision adjusted to the low light, and soon the world was illuminated by a faint, ghostly glow cast by starlight.

Crowpaw blinked in apprehension as he scanned the lumps of fur in the darkness that marked his sleeping Clanmates. Everyone seemed to be sleeping soundly, but there was sure to be a guard out on the Outlook Rock as usual. Crowpaw would have to get past them if he wanted to meet the other chosen before midnight.

Crowpaw’s belly rolled over uncomfortably as he rose to his paws.

The days since his dream had been maddening. He’d investigated every cat in WindClan, dropping hints about dreams or StarClan or omens, and he hadn’t been able to find a single cat who had any clue what he was talking about. 

He’d even asked Barkface if he’d spoken to StarClan recently. The medicine cat had looked at him like he’d grown a second head and responded by asking why on earth Crowpaw wanted to know. Crowpaw knew for sure then that Barkface hadn’t gotten the same dream from Deadfoot, because if he had, he would have known instantly that Crowpaw shared it.

The search had distracted Crowpaw from his training too, and Crowpaw could tell Mudclaw was on the verge of pulling all of his own whiskers out in frustration, and then probably doing the same to Crowpaw. He’d been berating Crowpaw for days now for ‘having feathers instead of a brain.’

But after so much fruitless searching, and likely making himself look like a fool in front of at least half his clanmates, Crowpaw had been forced to, very reluctantly, come to the only obvious solution left to him— the other three chosen cats weren’t in his Clan at all.

But why would Deadfoot choose others who aren’t in WindClan?

Crowpaw sighed softly to himself. 

It didn’t make any sense! But, that was the only good explanation, right? It was either that or… Maybe Crowpaw’s dream hadn’t really been from StarClan at all. Maybe he’d just imagined meeting his father, like he’d always wanted to.

Crowpaw’s stomach fluttered uneasily at that thought, but gave his head a small shake, trying to dislodge his doubts.

This whole thing was truly so confusing, but at least one thing did make sense to Crowpaw— if the others were from another Clan, then he should meet them at Fourtrees. It was neutral ground, and the only place where all the Clans gathered together peacefully.

His heart pounding in his ears and his paw-pads damp with nervous perspiration, Crowpaw crept towards the camp’s exit, placing his paws down as softly and silently as possible. Crowpaw knew that if any Clanmate woke up and questioned him, he could always say that he was going to the dirtplace. But, that would soon be revealed as an obvious lie if that Clanmate remained awake long enough to start to question why he was taking so long there.

Please StarClan, have everyone stay asleep! I’m already in enough trouble with Mudclaw as is, I don’t also need him punishing me for sneaking out!

Crowpaw’s pelt tingled with relief as he slipped through the gorse tunnel seemingly undetected. The first challenge was out of the way, and now all that remained was avoiding the lookout.

But, that would be a much more difficult task. Outlook Rock was used as a vantage point specifically because it allowed for a near total view of the moorlands. There was only one obvious way to avoid it, which was the extensive network of tunnels that crisscrossed WindClan territory. If Crowpaw used them, he’d be out of sight of Outlook Rock entirely. 

But ever since Heatherstar, the leader before Tallstar, got rid of tunneling, they hadn’t been well maintained. Plus, Crowpaw’s knowledge of them wasn’t nearly good enough to allow him to easily navigate through the labyrinth. 

Crowpaw gave his ears a small shake.

No. It’s too risky.

He’d have to remain above ground, although slipping past the Outlook Rock guard successfully would require him to gather up every scrap of his training and cunning. 

Crowpaw glanced upwards to the stars.

Keep my paws swift, my claws sharp, my eyes bright, and my ears perked.

He repeated the words in his mind a few times over. 

It was an old, simple prayer, typically uttered by warriors when they went out on hunts when prey was scarce, or by apprentices when they were readying for an assessment. But, it also brought Crowpaw some reassurance tonight. He imagined his ancestors, and Deadfoot especially, looking down on him as he slunk across the moor, sticking to the darkest shadows.

But his comfort faded quickly when he realized how painfully long it would take him to traverse WindClan’s territory. Staying out of the open had forced his pace to slow to that of a snail. He was practically crawling across the moor as he slipped from tall grass patch to grass patch and squeezed through the narrow paths hares and rabbits had carved into the gorse and underbrush, swallowing back curses as the thorns raked through his pelt. 

Crowpaw ground his teeth together impatiently. He itched to go faster, but that was sure to draw attention. When he emerged from another gorse tunnel, he cast a worried glance up at the sky again. The night was wearing on— was it past midnight already? He couldn’t tell, especially since he didn’t have the progress of the moon to use to track the time. 

Pushing down his growing frustration and anxiety, Crowpaw forced himself to focus back on the task of getting across the moor undetected. 

Despite his frustration, some pride still washed over Crowpaw when he finally reached the slope that led down to Fourtrees without incident. He sighed with relief as he dashed down the hill, straightening as he did so. There was no need for stealth now; the incline would block him from view from Outlook Rock. Crowpaw pushed forward, determination and uncertainty battering within him in equal measures as the dream was brought back to the front of his mind.

When he’d first gotten the dream, he’d been so eager to have been given a mission by StarClan— by Deadfoot— himself. But, as the days had passed, that excitement had slowly seeped out of him like the water had in the moor during the drought, and instead, doubt crept in stronger and stronger.

Maybe Nightcloud was right— could it have just been a weird dream caused by my own imagination? Or some bad prey?

Crowpaw shook his pelt, trying to dislodge the doubts, but they still stuck to him like a stubborn cobweb, refusing to leave his mind.

And, if it is real, then why do I have to meet with cats outside of my Clan? What do they have to do with me and WindClan?

That had also greatly contributed to Crowpaw’s reluctance. He had less than no interest in spending time with cats from the other Clans.

Maybe I won’t have to be around them long. Crowpaw thought hopefully. Maybe StarClan just needed to get us together tonight to send their message, and then we can go our separate ways.

Crowpaw’s ears pricked at the sound of voices ahead. There were definitely already other cats at Fourtrees. Crowpaw’s jaws parted, and he drank in the breeze, catching the scents of ThunderClan, ShadowClan, and RiverClan.

There must be a cat from each.

Crowpaw’s stomach sloshed with nerves. He braced himself, his muscles tensing as he pushed his way through the ring of undergrowth and into the clearing.

As soon as he stepped out of the bracken, the voices silenced and five pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Crowpaw’s neck fur began to bristle under the heat of their gazes, discomfort and confusion growing.

“This can’t be right,” he growled. “There’s only supposed to be three others.”

Crowpaw’s gaze swept over the five cats assembled in front of him, and he stiffened as he caught sight of the two ThunderClan cats present— the infuriating warrior, Brambleclaw, and his annoying little ginger companion.

“You…” Brambleclaw said to Crowpaw with a low, ominous growl, while the dark ginger she-cat leapt to her paws with a hiss, her tail lashing.

“Yes, me,” Crowpaw snarled, his claws unsheathing.

If the ThunderClanners wanted to restart their fight, Crowpaw was more than happy to finish it. But, Crowpaw’s fur also prickled with worry as he cast a sideways glance at the RiverClan warriors. It could cause huge trouble for WindClan if the ThunderClan cats said anything about Crowpaw hunting on RiverClan territory in front of them. Crowpaw could always argue that they were lying, but it would be the word of two cats against one…

Before anything could happen though, the ShadowClan she-cat took a half of a step in front of Brambleclaw and the ginger cat as if to break up the brewing conflict. Crowpaw glanced at her, vaguely recalling her name— Tawnypelt. He’d never spoken to her, but she was known well enough by most cats, not many cats swapped Clans, after all.

And, she’s Brambleclaw’s sister.

“You’re the chosen WindClan cat?” Tawnypelt asked.

Crowpaw’s pelt bristled beneath her sharp green eyes as she critically sized him up from his head to his tail.

“You look a bit scrawny,” Tawnypelt meowed skeptically.

“Crowpaw’s just an apprentice!” the ginger she-cat meowed quickly before Crowpaw could even say anything, her eyes flashing with mocking delight.

A growl rumbled in Crowpaw’s throat, but to his surprise, Brambleclaw gave an exasperated huff in response to the ginger she-cat’s interjection before Crowpaw could say anything.

“You’re an apprentice too, Squirrelpaw,” Brambleclaw grumbled.

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed.

‘Squirrelpaw…’ That name’s familiar.

He must have heard it announced at a Gathering before, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“So you had the dream too?” a new voice broke in softly. “I saw RiverClan’s old deputy, Stonefur.”

Crowpaw glanced over and immediately blinked in surprise as he got a good look at the two RiverClan warriors— or more specifically, the RiverClan she-cat who’d spoken. He was certain that they’d never met at a Gathering before, because if they’d had, he would have remembered her. 

She was one of the most beautiful cats Crowpaw had ever seen. Her long, pale silver fur flowed over her frame like a waterfall, laced through with jet-black stripes, and she had blue eyes as clear and bright as the midday sky.

“Yeah,” Crowpaw said gruffly, his ears flattening with faint embarrassment as he hoped he hadn’t been accidently staring. “I also spoke with my Clan’s old deputy— Deadfoot. He told me that some kind of trouble was coming, and I had to meet with three others at the new moon to find out more.”

The beautiful silver-striped cat nodded.

“Find out more about the prophecy: Darkness, air, water, and sky will come together, and shake the forest to its roots,” she added.

“That’s right,” Crowpaw muttered.

“I don’t think we’ve ever properly met before,” the she-cat continued, giving him a friendly blink. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Feathertail, and this is my brother Stormfur.”

She flicked her plumy tail to gesture to the grey tom behind her.

“He didn’t have the dream, but he came with me for support.”

Crowpaw gave Stormfur a curt nod of greeting, and the large tom silently dipped his head back in response.

“Hm, I saw Bluestar. Tawnypelt saw Nightstar. Then Feathertail and Crowpaw saw their Clans’ old deputies…” Brambleclaw mused out loud, his aggressive stance relaxing slightly as he seemed to become absorbed in his thoughts. “Now we just need to wait until midnight to figure out why.”

Crowpaw glanced over Squirrelpaw from out of the corners of his eyes. Distaste still sparked in her eyes as she gazed back at him, but she no longer looked like she was on the verge of launching an attack.

“That must mean you’re the other extra cat,” Crowpaw growled. “And, why exactly are you here?”

Squirrelpaw stuck her nose up in the air.

“Did StarClan say it had to be kept a secret? If Stormfur can know why can’t I?” she asked haughtily.

“She followed me here,” Brambleclaw said with a weary sigh.

“Traitor,” Squirrelpaw hissed, glaring at him.

“Oh so Brambleclaw doesn’t even want you to be here?” Crowpaw asked, his eyes narrowing. “So why are you? Scram.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Squirrelpaw growled, her dark auburn fur rising slightly. “You’re not my Clanmate. You’re not even a warrior.”

“I’m more of a warrior than you are,” Crowpaw retorted. “You must not even be more than halfway through your apprenticeship— I’m done with mine.”

Squirrelpaw snorted, her lip curling back tauntingly.

“Then why are you still Crowpaw, Crowpaw?” she asked. 

A low growl rumbled in Crowpaw’s throat, his anger building. He knew Squirrelpaw, or any cat outside of WindClan, had no way of knowing his struggles around becoming a warrior. But, still her barbs stabbed a little too close to home. He could almost hear those very words coming from Nightcloud’s mouth.

“There’s no need to fight,” Feathertail said, her voice entreating.

Crowpaw didn’t look at her. All of his focus was zeroed in on Squirrelpaw, his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Squirrelpaw met his eyes unflinchingly, her long fur bristling out like thistledown.

“Squirrelpaw,” Brambleclaw chided in a low voice, giving her side a poke with his paw, clearly trying to get her to back down.

“What?! He started it!” Squirrelpaw protested, breaking eye-contact with Crowpaw to instead glare over at her Clanmate.

 Crowpaw blinked, her name finally clicking in his mind.

“‘Squirrelpaw?’” Crowpaw echoed, his lip curling up into a snarl. “As in Firestar’s daughter?”

Squirrelpaw lifted her chin, her bushy tail curling up in pride.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she sniffed, glancing over at Crowpaw again.

Crowpaw scoffed, shaking his head.

“That explains a lot. Of course Firestar’s daughter would be an entitled little brat,” Crowpaw spat.

Squirrelpaw’s green eyes suddenly flared, and she took a step closer to Crowpaw, her claws unsheathing and glinting pearly in the starlight.

“What are you implying about my father?” she snarled.

“I’m not ‘implying’ anything. What I’m saying is that Firestar expects all the cats in the forest to bow down to him and fawn at his feet, and it’s clear you feel the same,” Crowpaw sneered.

Squirrelpaw released a loud, wordless hiss, her bushy tail whipping back and forth.

“Oh yeah? Because you’re such a ray of sunshine yourself,” Squirrelpaw spat. “Did your dad teach you to be an unbearable fox-heart?”

Crowpaw’s vision clouded with a red haze of anger, and before he even had the chance to think about it, he was lunging for the ThunderClan apprentice, a furious growl bursting from his throat. But, his paws had barely brushed Squirrelpaw’s pelt before he was barreled over by a much larger cat and pinned to the ground.

“Back off,” Brambleclaw growled, cold anger simmering deep in his amber eyes as he glowered down at Crowpaw. “I can’t believe you’d start a fight right now, while we’re waiting for StarClan’s message.”

Fury still roared like a fire in Crowpaw’s ears, but Brambleclaw’s rational words hit him like a cold douse of water, dimming the flames.

“Then tell your Clanmate not to talk about my father!” Crowpaw spat up at Brambleclaw, still tense with rage, but his mind had cleared enough that he was able to resist the urge to begin clawing up his sides.

Brambleclaw stepped off of him, and Crowpaw rose back to his paws, shooting a poisonous glare over at Squirrelpaw. 

“You don’t know anything about me!” he snarled.

“Neither do you, to me!” Squirrelpaw snarled back. “I won’t talk about your father, if you won’t talk about mine!”

Squirrelpaw then turned to glare at Brambleclaw. 

“And, you!” she spat. “Thanks for nothing! I can fight my own battles.”

Brambleclaw hissed in exasperation, his tail-tip twitching

“Can’t you see we shouldn’t be fighting at all?” Brambleclaw said. “If this ‘great struggle’ StarClan warned us about really is coming, we have more important things to worry about. Plus, StarClan must want us to work together. Why else choose one cat from each Clan?”

Tawnypelt’s head thoughtfully tilted to the side.

“Yes. Why were we all chosen?” she asked. “I mean us specifically?”

“Well you all have ThunderClan blood,” Squirrelpaw supplied quickly, her anger seemingly already fading as instead excitement emerged at the prospect of deciphering the prophecy. “Tawnypelt was born in ThunderClan, and Feathertail’s dad is Greystripe. The only—”

“I don’t have ThunderClan blood,” Crowpaw snapped.

Squirrelpaw shot him a withering glance, anger darkening her expression again.

“I was about to say that the pattern holds true for everyone besides you,” she hissed.

“Then why even bring up the pattern if it doesn’t fit for everyone?” Crowpaw growled.

“I’m just trying to help, mouse-brain!” Squirrelpaw snapped.

“No one asked you to help—”

“Enough! Great StarClan! Can you two please stop arguing for more than a single heartbeat, so we can receive the message we came here for?!” Tawnypelt snapped, lifting a paw to rub it across her eyes. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Crowpaw’s pelt still stood on end with anger, but with that, a tense silence fell over the group. 

The moments trickled past as slowly as a melting ice, and Crowpaw shifted his weight from paw to paw as he waited for StarClan to finally speak to him again. But, this felt all wrong. The at least vague sense Crowpaw had earlier of his ancestors watching over him as he’d crossed the moor was gone. Not a trace of the mystical, ethereal presence of StarClan remained in the night air, instead there was just a sense of heavy pressure from anger, uncertainty, and awkwardness, looming over the group like a storm that was about to break.

Crowpaw’s worries were confirmed when, after standing around for a bit, he finally glanced up at the sky and noticed the stars starting to dim.

“Fox-dung,” Crowpaw muttered to himself before glaring over to address the group. “Look at the sky. It’s far past midnight.”

Everyone else lifted their gazes, and confusion and worry creased their features.

“But… StarClan didn’t come,” Feathertail said, her eyes stretched wide.

“Maybe it’s because someone was arguing the whole time,” Squirrelpaw said, shooting a glare at Crowpaw.

“Or maybe the dreams weren’t real,” Crowpaw snapped, but even as he said the words his stomach clenched.

He wanted it to be real. He really did. But, how did he truly know it wasn’t just his overactive mind imagining what he wanted so badly to happen? Of course he’d dream of Deadfoot, his father, choosing him for a quest— telling him he was special. 

The bitter taste of embarrassment and defeat settled on Crowpaw’s tongue. What would Mudclaw think if he knew of this wild-goose chase?

I’m such a rabbit-brain.

“But, why did we all have the same dream if it wasn’t real?” Feathertail challenged, her sky-blue eyes unwaveringly meeting Crowpaw’s.

Crowpaw didn’t answer. Instead, he just looked away from her, twisting his head to gaze out into the distance, back to the moors— to home.

“Then why did nothing happen?” Tawnypelt responded to Feathertail’s question with a question. “We met up at the new moon, waited till midnight. We did everything StarClan said.”

“They never said we should meet at Fourtrees,” Feathertail argued. “Maybe we’re in the wrong place.”

“Where else would they have wanted you to meet?” Stormfur rumbled. “Can’t StarClan speak to us anywhere they wish?”

“We were fools to come here in the first place. The dreams must mean nothing,” Crowpaw growled in a low voice without looking at any of them, as if reiterating the words could make him fully believe them. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Feathertail insisted. “And, I don’t think you really do either.”

“But, it’s like Tawnypelt said: we did as StarClan asked,” Brambleclaw broke in. “What more can we do now?”

Crowpaw dug his claws into the dirt.

“We go home,” he said, lifting his eyes to glare at them all again. “And, trust that even if trouble is coming, our Clans will each be strong enough to face it.”

Crowpaw turned aside, beginning to stalk off. “I’m leaving.”

“Good,” Squirrelpaw snapped at his back.

His stomach twisted up into knots, Crowpaw streaked away and crossed back onto WindClan’s dusty soil without another word. But, this time he didn’t try to creep through the moors. Right now, he didn’t care if he got caught or if he got in trouble with Mudclaw. He just ran— ran like he could outrun his doubts, outrun this dream, and outrun the hostile, judgmental stares of the five cats behind him.

Chapter Text

Mothwing jerked awake to the sound of a few loud and excited, or perhaps agitated, voices echoing into the small but cozy den that she shared with Hawkfrost. Mothwing lifted her head groggily from her nest, blinking her eyes hard to clear the blurriness from them.

It looked very early— only thin, grey light illuminated the inside of the den. Dawn must just be breaking.

“Wha’s going on?” Mothwing mumbled to Hawkfrost as he stirred at her side, his blue eyes half-opening sleepily. “Who in their right mind gets up before sunrise?”

“Not me,” Hawkfrost responded as he closed his eyes again, his voice turning more gargled as he drifted back off. “Can’t be that important. Wak’ me up if there’s an invasion…”

Mothwing nodded at her brother’s wisdom. He was right of course; only a WindClan cat would be fish-brained enough to willingly get up before dawn. Mothwing twisted over slightly, resting her chin down on Hawkfrost’s glossy-furred back, feeling his flank rise and fall in soothing, regular breaths. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the voices as she waited for the soft, dark pelt of sleep to wrap around her again.

She was just on the verge of drifting off when a loud call reverberated through camp, yanking her back to full consciousness:

“Let all cats old enough to swim, gather beneath the Ancient Willow for a Clan meeting!”

A collective groan rose up from all of the warriors’ dens in response to their leader’s summons. Mothwing’s eyes opened again, and she squinted out into camp.

“Why is Leopardstar doing this to us?” Heavystep grumbled as he stumbled out of his den, his sister Shadepelt, and her mate Vixenleap just behind him. “I swear, she’s the only morning-cat in all of RiverClan!” 

“Maybe something bad happened,” Dawnflower said, a bit of apprehension flashing in her eyes as she and Mosspelt emerged from their den as well, joining the other sleepy warriors in congregating in front of the dens. “Do you think it could be WindClan?”

“I don’t think so. She didn’t sound worried,” Mosspelt pointed out through a yawn.

Stormfur gave a curious blink.

“Then what could it be?” he asked.

“Well, instead of gossiping about it like elders, you all could just go over there and find out!” Blackclaw hissed irritably, stalking past the others and pushing his way out of the crowd.

Hawkfrost rolled his eyes, leaning over to put his muzzle close to Mothwing's ear.

“Blackclaw’s like a kit— always extra grumpy when he doesn’t get enough sleep,” he muttered, wicked amusement glinting in his blue eyes.

Mothwing stifled a purr of laughter as she and Hawkfrost heaved themselves from their nests and joined the stream of warriors filing out of their dens.

Leopardstar was perched in her usual spot on a low-hanging branch of the Ancient Willow, waiting for her Clan. Mothwing slipped through the long, thin strands of leaves like a minnow in the shallows before settling down next to Hawkfrost. The rest of her Clanmates did the same, and soon the entire Clan was gathered in the embrace of the tree, surrounded by a swaying, green curtain. 

Mosspelt had been right that Leopardstar did not seem concerned. Her eyes were bright, and she lounged across the large, gnarled branch, her tail hanging beneath her and swishing slowly as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Clanmates,” Leopardstar purred, her eyelids half-closing with bliss as she gazed down at RiverClan. “I have excellent news. StarClan has blessed us this morning.”

Meows of surprise and curiosity rippled through the crowd. Mothwing sat up a bit straighter herself, the remnants of her sleepiness driven away by a surge of intrigue. 

A blessing from StarClan? What’s Leopardstar talking about?

Leopardstar nodded down towards the roots of the Ancient Willow, and Mudfur stepped forward, hopping on three paws as if he’d injured a foreleg. But, then he stretched the foot that he held off the ground out towards the Clan, and Mothwing noticed a flash of russet and gold at the end of his mud-brown paw. 

The fuzzy, delicate shape of a moth’s wing was speared on the end of one of Mudfur’s claws. 

“I found this right outside my den when I woke up this morning,” Mudfur purred, his amber eyes making direct eye-contact with Mothwing’s from across the crowd. “A moth’s wing. You can’t ask for a clearer sign than that.”

Mothwing’s eyes widened in shock, and she was suddenly aware of the sound of her own heartbeat hammering, her blood rushing in her ears as loudly as water when she dived beneath the surface.

A murmur rose up from the Clan and several cats turned back to look at Mothwing, expressions ranging from pleased, to surprised, to uncertain, to bored. Mudfur turned, carefully placing the wing down on a root beside him.

Leopardstar lifted her chin.

“Mothwing, if you would please step forward.”

For a moment, Mothwing didn’t move a whisker. Overwhelming emotion at how quickly everything was happening had frozen her paws to the ground. But, then Hawkfrost’s muzzle was giving her shoulder a gentle but firm nudge, and Mothwing found herself rising to her feet. She felt as if she was floating somewhere above her head, outside her body, as her paws moved, carrying her to the front of the Clan and the roots of the Ancient Willow, finally coming to a rest in front of Mudfur.

“Mothwing, is it still your wish to train in the ways of a medicine cat?” Leopardstar’s voice rang down.

“It is.” Despite still being unsteady on her paws, there was no hesitation in Mothwing’s voice as she answered.

“And, Mudfur, is it your wish to take Mothwing on as your apprentice?” Leopardstar asked.

“It is,” Mudfur purred.

Leopardstar nodded.

“Very well then,” she said.

Mudfur leaned forward to touch noses with Mothwing, and she quickly met him halfway. 

“Your real apprentice ceremony will happen at the next half-moon,” Mudfur whispered when they made contact, his eyes twinkling.

As Mothwing pulled back, her shock finally started to fade, and it was replaced with bright, brilliant joy, unfurling in her chest like a flower.

This is really happening?! I get to be a medicine cat! StarClan did send a sign for me!

Mothwing lifted her gaze to peer up at the brightening sky through the willow’s boughs.

Thank you, StarClan! Thank you! she thought, doing her best to broadcast her gratitude up to the fading Silverpelt.

And, privately to herself, she promised never to doubt StarClan again. They had given her this precious gift— they showed that they believed in her. To make it up to them, she would be the best medicine cat possible, as devout as possible, dedicating herself to StarClan and to caring for her Clanmates.

“Mothwing! Mothwing! Mothwing!” her Clanmates cheered with Hawkfrost’s voice loudest of all.

Mothwing looked over her shoulder back at her brother and his sparkling blue eyes, and her heart filled with so much happiness, it could burst.

“That’s all. Meeting dismissed,” Leopardstar said as the cheering faded.

Mothwing’s Clanmates began to rise to their paws, dispersing as Leopardstar bounded down from the tree, giving Mothwing a friendly nod.

“Congratulations,” the leader said simply as she padded by.

“Mothwing!” a voice called, rumbling with a purr.

Mothwing glanced over to see Mistyfoot hurrying to her, her blue eyes glowing. Mothwing purred back as her former mentor greeted her by rasping her tongue over Mothwing’s forehead. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Mistyfoot said, still purring loudly. “You’re going to be such a wonderful medicine cat, I know it.”

“Thank you Mistyfoot,” Mothwing said, blinking hard as a powerful wave of emotion surged through her— joyful but also tinged with a slight edge of regret. “Although a part of me is sorry that I won’t be able to walk the path of a warrior like you taught me…”

Mistyfoot shook her head.

“Don’t apologize. It’s clear to me that your true passion lies with healing, and that is just as noble as fighting.” Mistyfoot lightly touched her nose to Mothwing’s ear. “And, we will still work closely together, maybe even more so than we did before. After all, it’s together that medicine cats, deputies, and leaders run a clan.”

Mothwing purred in response, her heart lightening. 

"I hadn’t thought about it like that before," she said.

Mothwing’s attention was pulled away from Mistyfoot as from behind the deputy, Stormfur and Feathertail padded up, gazing at Mistyfoot expectantly. Mistyfoot twitched her ears in acknowledgement of them.

“Excuse me, Mothwing,” Mistyfoot said, pulling away and turning to Stormfur and Feathertail. 

Stormfur gave Mothwing a warm blink.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“Thank you,” Mothwing murmured.

Feathertail was quiet, avoiding looking directly at Mothwing, even as Mothwing glanced over at her. Feathertail’s cool distance was nothing new, but Mothwing couldn’t help but think that she had seemed even more withdrawn recently. Feathertail never had many friends in the Clan— in fact Mothwing wasn’t sure if she had any at all besides Stormfur and Mistyfoot— but she used to at least be surface-level polite to most cats. Now though, she was keeping even more to herself than before.

Worry gnawed at Mothwing like a dog with a bone.

Is it about me? Is she really so opposed to me becoming a medicine cat?

Mothwing’s whiskers drooped as she stared at Feathertail’s striped back as the group padded off, picking up Reedpaw on their way, likely to go out to hunt or train.

Why do you hate me so much? My father may have been bad, but I never did anything to you.

Mothwing was pulled out of her thoughts as she picked up the sound of her name being muttered in a low tone from across camp. Her ears flicking, Mothwing glanced towards the voice.

“...Mothwing is fine enough, but I’m still not sure about this,” Loudbelly was saying as he spoke with Blackclaw and Skyheart.

“StarClan’s sign is so obvious though,” Skyheart pointed out. “If they approve of her being a medicine cat, why don’t you?”

Loudbelly gave his head a brief shake.

“It just doesn’t feel right, is all!” he grumbled. “My health has me in and out of Mudfur’s den all the time. I don’t know how I’d feel about Mothwing taking care of me instead.”

“But, Mudfur will train her,” Skyheart said with an exasperated huff.

“I agree with Loudbelly,” Blackclaw broke in, shooting a pointed glance at his sister, Skyheart. “StarClan sending the sign for her was just the bare minimum to say that she can start training. But, we will have to see if Mothwing is truly cut out for it.” 

“Exactly,” Loudbelly said with a nod.

Skyheart’s tail flicked indecisively.

“Yeah, I guess,” she agreed with a shrug.

Skyheart glanced up to check on her playing kits, and as she did so, her gaze met Mothwing’s as she noticed her watching them. Skyheart glanced away, flicking her tail to Blackclaw and Loudbelly to gesture them in closer, and they resumed their gossiping, but in quieter whispers this time.

Mothwing’s stomach twisted uneasily, her anxiety mounting.

“Ignore them,” Hawkfrost’s voice said suddenly.

Mothwing glanced over to see her brother striding up to her.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” he added.

Mothwing let out a hesitant purr as Hawkfrost reached her side.

“Do you really mean that?” she asked.

“Of course,” Hawkfrost said with a blink of surprise. “You’re going to be great.”

“I was a bit worried that you wouldn’t be happy for me,” Mothwing admitted in a soft voice, lowering her gaze. “You know… after we talked the other day. I thought you still didn’t want me to be a medicine cat.”

Hawkfrost touched his tail-tip to Mothwing’s shoulder.

“What I want is what’s best for the two of us. And, after we talked, I came to see how much this means to you— that this was what’s best for you. You really wanted this. So as long as you’re happy, sis, I’m happy,” Hawkfrost said with easy assurance. 

Mothwing purred with relief, pressing her muzzle into the ruff of fur around her brother’s neck. Hawkfrost rumbled a brief purr in response, allowing the contact for a moment before pulling away.

“I better go. I think a lot of WindClanners like to go down to the river to drink around sunrise.” Hawkfrost’s eyes narrowed. “Since I’m up so early today, I’m hoping I’ll be able to catch them in the act of trespassing.”

“If they’re trespassing,” Mothwing corrected.

Hawkfrost flipped his tail irritably in response.

“We know they are. We just don’t have hard evidence yet,” he grumbled.

Hawkfrost turned and started to trot away.

“Wait! Are you going alone?” Mothwing called after him.

“Don’t worry. I don’t need backup to handle those skinny little weasels,” Hawkfrost called back, flinging his words carelessly over his shoulder. “Besides, you better get to Mudfur. He’ll probably be looking for you soon.”

Mothwing glanced around, searching for her new mentor, but she couldn’t spot him. As she’d been talking to Mistyfoot and Hawkfrost, Mudfur must have retreated back to the medicine cat’s den, presumably to give her some privacy as they congratulated her.

“Okay. We’ll meet back up to eat together at sunhigh?” Mothwing called after Hawkfrost before he could exit the camp.

Hawkfrost waved his tail in acknowledgement but didn’t look back as he pushed through the reeds, and Mothwing heard a faint splash as he entered the water that surrounded the island.

Mothwing turned away, finally drifting out from under the willow to head towards the medicine cat’s den. It was tucked away in a more secluded area of camp and sheltered by a tall wall of sedge to give injured and ill cats a peaceful environment to recuperate in. But, only Mudfur was inside the den at the moment, so it was just his scent, along with the ever-present floral smell of herbs, that washed over Mothwing as she approached the sedge-woven den. 

Mothwing stuck her head into his den.

Our den. She mentally corrected herself, a shiver of excitement running through her pelt.

A long flat stone ran across one side of the den, and on it, Mudfur usually kept his herbs organized in neat little piles. But, right now he was shifting through the stock, pulling out different leaves, roots, and berries and placing them on the ground beside him.

“Mudfur?” Mothwing asked, taking a single step inside.

“There you are, Mothwing. Come in,” Mudfur said without looking up from his task, waving his tail at her.

Mothwing obeyed, padding into the cool interior. She’d been in the den many times before, not just for the times she’d been hurt or sick, but after she’d decided she wanted to be a medicine cat, she’d entreat Mudfur to tell her the names of some herbs or the ingredients of simple poultices. But, now that it was her den too, she looked over it with new eyes, taking it in as Mudfur continued his sorting. 

It was bigger than any of the warriors’ dens, but it had to be spacious so it could potentially hold several patients along with the medicine cats. Right now though, there was only Mudfur and Mothwing of course, but still the den didn’t feel empty. Mudfur had been RiverClan’s only medicine cat for a long time, and it showed in the distinctive and meticulous way he’d decorated the den. Feathers of all sorts, from great, long ones from herons to tiny, delicate ones from songbirds, had been tied to the ceiling with thin pieces of grass, and they dangled over Mothwing’s head, swaying and spinning in the breeze. Beautiful, shiny stones lined the entrance to the den, arranged in such a way that they caught the sun and reflected it inside so the den never felt gloomy, dappling light across the ground and walls. Oddly flattened flowers perched in various parts of the walls, woven together with the sedge and reeds. Mothwing padded up to one to give it a sniff, her ears pricking with surprise as she noticed that the flattened flower’s colors were vibrant like it was recently plucked, and yet it showed no signs of starting to decay.

“How did you keep these flowers from wilting and rotting?” she asked, glancing over at Mudfur.

“I modified a technique I normally use for drying herbs,” Mudfur said, finally finishing his task and padding over to Mothwing. “It takes some time and patience and can usually only be done in the warmer, drier moons, but the results are exquisite— flowers that are preserved forever.”

“Do you preserve herbs in the same way?” Mothwing asked, her head tilting to the side curiously.

Mudfur shook his head.

“The process I use for drying herbs is much less rigorous. Many of the healing properties of them would be lost if I preserved them like I do the flowers.” Mudfur gave a low rumbling purr. “But, the flowers are nice to look at, at least. I can show you my technique for that, if you’d like.”

“Yes, I would,” Mothwing said with a nod, her gaze still skimming around the den. 

Her eyes finally made it over to where Mudfur’s nest was, and she saw that a new nest had already been made up for her nearby. Her gaze drifted upwards, and her chest tightened with emotion as she noticed the moth wing carefully pinned to the wall with a thorn right above her nest.

“I thought you might like to keep it,” Mudfur said, following her gaze. “I mean, you can also bring your other things in here, of course, and put them where you like. And, if you don’t want it, I can move the wing…”

“No. It’s perfect,” Mothwing whispered, glancing over at Mudfur. “Thank you.”

Mudfur purred, his amber eyes brightening.

“I always knew StarClan would come through.” Mudfur gazed at her with proud, glowing eyes for a moment before turning aside and gesturing her over, returning to the herbs that he’d pulled out. “Now let’s get to work. We have a lot of training to begin.”

Paws tingling with excitement, Mothwing followed him over, ready to learn.

Chapter Text

Crowpaw plodded after the large group of WindClan warriors as they made their way down to the river at sunset. After days and days of the moor being baked in the sun, rain had finally come yesterday and last night. Although WindClan had taken full advantage of drinking from the puddles that formed near the camp, they hadn’t lasted long in the greenleaf heat, and there hadn’t been enough rainfall to start the streams running again.

The rain brought welcome reprieve from the drought, but their territory was clearly still suffering. Prey remained hard to find, and two elders, Ryestalk and Darkfoot, had been struck by a bout of heat-stroke earlier in the day. Barkface had had to go down to RiverClan to ask Mudfur if he had any herbs to spare after all of his shriveled into dust in the dry heat. Mudfur was still in WindClan’s camp right now, helping him with the treatment.

Despite the fact that RiverClan’s medicine cat was giving aid to WindClan elders, the rest of Mudfur’s Clanmates were clearly growing uneasy about WindClan’s presence on their territory. More and more often, a RiverClan warrior would be posted nearby to the twoleg bridge to silently gaze out over the WindClan cats as they drank. The cat that Crowpaw had most often seen doing the job was a dark tabby with piercing blue eyes, watching the WindClan cats as if he were a raptor, and they were mice.

Tallstar had decided that the Clan would go down in larger groups to drink from here on out. Tallstar’s thought process was that the least amount of times that WindClan cats crossed over the border in a day, the better, but Crowpaw wasn’t sure about that reasoning. Wouldn’t a massive patrol of cats striding into RiverClan’s territory look more like a brazen, aggressive act in Leopardstar’s eyes?

But, who am I to say anything about it? What do I know? I’m just a lousy apprentice. Crowpaw sulked, his tail drooping to drag in the dirt as his pace slowed even more and he fell even further back in the group.

Although, miraculously, Crowpaw hadn’t been caught or punished for sneaking out a few days ago on the new moon, he’d been miserable ever since that awful meeting. At first, he tried to tell himself it was just because all those annoying furballs he met there, and the ThunderClanners especially, had gotten under his skin. But, as the days passed and his mood stayed so low, he’d grudgingly admitted to himself that the true source of his unhappiness was his dream, and the maybe not-so-real prophecy in it.

Crowpaw still went back and forth on whether he’d actually spoken with StarClan or not. He did want, so badly, to have been chosen by Deadfoot for some great destiny, but what were the chances that Crowpaw, the apprentice who could never become a warrior, would be picked out of all the other cats in WindClan? Why not Ashfoot? Or Mudclaw? Or why did StarClan not just send the message to Tallstar or Barkface, like how prophecies were supposed to be sent! They were the leader and medicine cat!

Crowpaw gave his ears a small shake, trying to pull himself back to the present as the group approached the border between WindClan and RiverClan territory. Tallstar himself was leading this patrol, and nearly all of WindClan’s warriors, Ashfoot included, were here. Thankfully though, Mudclaw had stayed back at camp, giving Crowpaw a break from his mentor’s ever-watchful eye.

Crowpaw shot a sharp glance towards Onewhisker’s light brown tabby-striped back. He was here too, chatting with Whitetail as usual, although Crowpaw had still not forgiven him for the incident with the vole and ThunderClan. But, infuriatingly, Tallstar hadn’t really disciplined Onewhisker for disclosing such private information to an enemy Clan. After Mudclaw’s punishment of leaving Onewhisker to take care of bringing all the water-soaked moss to camp that day, Tallstar had just seemingly given Onewhisker a stern talking to and that was it. 

Crowpaw's tail-tip twitched.

Well, at least having Tallstar around today should keep Onewhisker from opening his big, fat mouth if we do come across some ThunderClanners.

“It’s a good thing Tallstar’s here to stop Onewhisker from giving away more WindClan secrets,” Nightcloud hissed to Robinwing, echoing Crowpaw’s thoughts as the pair of sisters padded just a few tail-lengths away from him. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff he told ThunderClan about the other day when I was on a water patrol with him!”

“I’d believe it even if you hadn’t already told me about it,” Robinwing said drily, flicking her tail. “Remember? You came back to camp so mad. You said that Onewhisker should just go join ThunderClan if he was so in love with them and Firestar.”

“Oh yeah!” Nightcloud chuffed.

She and Robinwing purred loudly together in amusement, and Crowpaw’s ears twitched.

It was just weird to hear Nightcloud laughing instead of hissing or growling, like she usually did when Crowpaw was within earshot of her.

“But, did I tell you about how mad Mudclaw looked afterwards? I swear, he was one heartbeat away from clawing Onewhisker’s tongue out right then and there!” Nightcloud meowed.

“Ooo he should have!” Robinwing said, rumbling a surprisingly intense growl.

Nightcloud snorted.

“And I’d have helped him,” she drawled. “Not only would it save us trouble with the other Clans, but it’d save us headaches back at camp too. I swear that tom never shuts up.”

Robinwing snickered in response to that, her robin-egg-blue eyes glinting wickedly.

“What about you, Crowpaw?”

Crowpaw jerked in surprise at the sound of his name, and he quickly shot a sharp glance towards the side. Nightcloud was giving him a long, measured look from the corner of her dark amber eyes, her tail-tip already starting to flick with impatience as she waited for him to reply.

Crowpaw’s ears flattened, his mind whirling as he tried to figure out Nightcloud’s angle here in asking him this question.

What is this? Some kind of punishment for eavesdropping? Although it can’t really be eavesdropping when we’re all in a patrol walking so close by each other! It’s not like Nightcloud was talking in a quiet voice! Onewhisker himself could have probably heard her, for Stars’ sake!

“...What about me?” Crowpaw asked with a wary growl.

Nightcloud rolled her eyes.

“Would you have helped Mudclaw claw out Onewhisker’s tongue so he’d shut up?” she meowed impatiently.

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed deeper.

This has got to be some kind of trick. Nightcloud doesn’t make normal conversation with me. Is she making fun of me because Mudclaw also told me that day that I don’t know when to shut up? 

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur bristled, his pelt flooding with humiliated heat.

Yes, that must be it. I should’ve known that Mudclaw berating me in front of her would come back to bite me in the tail eventually!

“Of course you’d love it if Mudclaw clawed out my tongue too,” Crowpaw hissed, his tail lashing.

Nightcloud’s face screwed up in confusion.

“What? Do you have thistledown in your ears? We’re talking about Onewhisker,” she snapped.

“But you’d also like it if I could never argue with you again,” Crowpaw growled.

“Yeah, I would right now because you’re being so irrational,” Nightcloud hissed, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re such a fox-heart, Nightcloud,” Crowpaw snarled.

“And you’re a paranoid rabbit-brain!” Nightcloud spat, her long fur fluffing out defensively. “But fine, if you want to have it your way, you can just shut up!”

If that wasn’t a clear enough end to the conversation, Nightcloud bounded off towards the front of the group, Robinwing hot on her tail.

Crowpaw glared after them, his stomach roiling. He’d somehow gotten Nightcloud to retreat from him, instead of her forcing him to back down— a once-in-a-lifetime accomplishment— but then why did he feel even worse than before? 

The WindClan cats eventually entered RiverClan territory and padded down to the bank unchallenged. Once they reached the river’s edge, Crowpaw lowered his muzzle to the water’s surface and started to drink, but he’d only taken a few laps when a quiet splash echoed in his ears. Crowpaw lifted his gaze, expecting to see that dark tabby tom— Hawkfrost, Crowpaw recalled his name— coming over to watch over the WindClan cats as usual. 

But, instead, it was Feathertail who was paddling over, her long silver and black fur billowing in the water around her. 

Crowpaw quickly lowered his eyes again, keeping his focus on drinking and not looking at her again.

Nothing came from the dreams, so I have no connection to Feathertail, Crowpaw reminded himself. She’s just a RiverClan warrior, coming here to do her duty and make sure WindClan isn’t stealing prey.

Crowpaw continued to drink, his head bowed, even after his thirst was sated because Feathertail, rather than taking up silent sentry a few fox-lengths away from the edge of the group, had decided to pad right up to the WindClan patrol after she’d pulled herself from the water. She exchanged cool but polite greetings with Tallstar and a few other WindClan cats as she walked through the group.

Crowpaw’s ears flattened down, his muzzle still near the water’s surface, although he’d finally stopped drinking since, if he continued, he was going to make his stomach quite uncomfortable. But, he didn’t want to lift his head and risk making eye contact with Feathertail.

What is she even doing here? Why did she not just go to sit and stare at us like the rest of the RiverClan warriors do?

Feathertail finally did take a seat, near the edge of the WindClan group and only a tail-length away from Crowpaw.

Crowpaw’s pelt prickled and itched like there were ants crawling over him.

That does it. I can’t stay here, so close to her! What if someone notices and thinks we’re being overly familiar with each other? What if Nightcloud or Robinwing sees?!

Crowpaw lifted his head, twitching water from his whiskers. But, before he could fully turn away, his ears pricked as Feathertail spoke in a low voice, barely above a breath.

“Don’t go yet,” she murmured. 

Crowpaw froze, and he was suddenly very aware of the sensation of his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, Crowpaw glanced over at her from the corner of his eyes. Feathertail had started to seemingly casually groom her face, disguising the movement of her mouth with her paw. She also wasn’t looking in his direction, rather gazing out towards the rest of the WindClan patrol, but she was unmistakably talking to him.

“Brambleclaw is here, nearby. We need to talk to you. He received another sign from StarClan,” Feathertail muttered in that same low tone.

Shock jabbed at Crowpaw.

What?! Only Brambleclaw got another sign?

Crowpaw’s brow started to furrow, but he struggled against it, trying to keep his expression neutral since he was acutely aware of his many Clanmates so nearby, any of whom could be watching him.

“Meet us there when you can slip away.” One of Feathertail’s ears vaguely twitched in the direction of a thorn-bush further downstream.

Despite Crowpaw’s many reservations about this, he couldn’t deny the bits of information Feathertail offered piqued his interest, and it nettled him like a burr caught too deep in his pelt to remove.

So does this mean the dream was real? But, why did StarClan not send a sign at the new moon like they said they would? Why send a follow up to Brambleclaw and not to me? WindClan is the Clan closest to the stars!

Feathertail was still grooming her paws, and Crowpaw figured that she must be waiting for some sign of acknowledgement from him. He flicked his tail briskly, hoping she’d understand it as an affirmative, before finally turning aside and drifting back closer to the WindClan patrol. Almost all of his Clanmates had stopped drinking and were getting ready to leave. Crowpaw would have to wait a bit until he could get away.

Crowpaw came over to stand near Ashfoot, who greeted him with a blink. Tallstar summoned the Clan to him with a wave of his tail, giving a cool nod to Feathertail, who was still watching them, as WindClan began to depart.

Crowpaw’s paws itched with anxious energy as the patrol returned to the moors. He was still walking at Ashfoot’s side, and although Crowpaw attempted to subtly slow his pace so he could drop back from the rest of the group and slip away, Ashfoot somehow managed to keep her pace matched to his. They were now more ambling than walking, but still drawing further and further from RiverClan territory. He would have to think of something else if he wanted to actually sneak off.

Crowpaw lifted his nose to the breeze as if he’d suddenly caught a scent.

“I think I smelled rabbit back there,” Crowpaw meowed to his mother. “I might go and try to catch it.”

“Oh.” Ashfoot’s ears flicked in surprise. “Um… do you want me to come? We could hunt it together.”

“That’s alright… I’ll go alone,” Crowpaw said, although his stomach twisted.

Truthfully, he would like to hunt with Ashfoot. Mudclaw usually had Crowpaw training so rigorously, it wasn’t often that he got the chance to go hunting with his mother, and even less often when it was just the two of them.

“Just tell Mudclaw where I’ve gone if you get back to camp before me, and that I’ll be back soon,” Crowpaw added.

His mother accepted this easily, giving a nod, and Crowpaw dropped back, swiftly circling back around to the RiverClan border once the WindClan patrol was out of sight. He made his way back down to the river. Feathertail was no longer there, but her scent grew stronger as he slunk towards the thorn-bush she’d indicated, along with the distinctive scent of ThunderClan.

Crowpaw slipped under the bush and out of sight, hissing irritably as he was forced to squeeze next to Brambleclaw to fit. Stormfur and Feathertail were there too, also crouched down, but Feathertail blinked at Crowpaw happily.

“You came,” she purred. “I’m glad.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would,” Brambleclaw admitted in his deep rumble of a voice.

“I just had to get away when my Clanmates weren’t paying attention,” Crowpaw grumbled, glaring over at Brambleclaw from the corner of his eyes. “Now what do you want?”

Brambleclaw released a long breath.

“I had another dream,” he said slowly.

“What sort of dream?” Crowpaw asked coldly. “I haven’t had one. Why would StarClan send you a dream and not me?”

Brambleclaw’s ears angled back slightly.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

Crowpaw just grunted in reply, waiting for Brambleclaw to continue. But, Brambleclaw remained silent, staring down at his paws with a broody, furrowed brow.

“So you spoke to StarClan again,” Crowpaw prompted. “Who did you speak to? Was it the same as last time? Who was that again?”

“ThunderClan’s old leader Bluestar,” Brambleclaw finally answered, but then he shook his head. “But, no. I didn’t speak to her again. I didn’t see any StarClan cat, actually.”

Crowpaw’s fur began to rise.

“What?! So how do you even know the dream was from StarClan?”

Brambleclaw made noise of exasperation from deep within his throat.

“If you would just give me a moment to explain, I’d tell you,” Brambleclaw said.

Crowpaw’s tail started to twitch in annoyance, but he gave Brambleclaw a curt nod to continue.

“Thank you. I know it was a dream from StarClan because I dreamt of a place I’d never seen before. I was drowning in a sea of salty-tasting water. There was a towering cliff behind me, taller than even the gorge, and in front of me the water stretched on endlessly, even out to the setting sun.”

Crowpaw’s pelt prickled uncomfortably at Brambleclaw’s description of the strange place, but he still wasn’t totally convinced that what he was describing was a real dream from StarClan. 

“But how do you know this wasn’t just a nightmare?” Crowpaw demanded. “I’ve dreamt of things I’ve never seen before, like flying rabbits, but that doesn’t mean that StarClan was trying to tell me something.”

“Because I spoke to Ravenpaw— you know… the former ThunderClan cat who lives in the barn with Barley near Highstones?” Brambleclaw asked.

“I know who Ravenpaw is,” Crowpaw hissed, his fur spiking. “I’m not a kit!”

“Well Ravenpaw said that this ‘sundrown-place’ is real,” Brambleclaw said, his eyes widening with emphasis. “He’s spoken to rogues and loners before who have been there, and it was just like in my dream. Even down to the salty water.”

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed, his tail beginning to swish uncertainly behind him. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the fact that the place actually existed, did add some credence to Brambleclaw’s argument.

“I think StarClan is trying to tell us that we need to go there,” Brambleclaw continued. “And, I think we should leave soon. Before whatever trouble that they’re warning us about comes true…”

Crowpaw jolted with surprise.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, his eyes stretching wide and his voice rising with shock. “You want us to go trekking out… StarClan knows how far on a whim? Abandoning our Clans! Just because you had a dream that no one else had?”

Brambleclaw’s claws nervously flexed in and out, digging into the ground.

“I’m just trying to do what I think StarClan wants,” he mumbled. “And, we wouldn’t be abandoning our Clans. We’d be helping them by following StarClan’s commands.”

“Well I’m not doing this!” Crowpaw snapped, his outrage growing. “No way! Especially if trouble is coming, I can’t leave my family— my Clan— to fend for themselves against it!”

“I think Brambleclaw is right,” Feathertail broke in, gentle but firm. “I’m willing to go with him, even though I haven’t had a dream. We have to put our faith in StarClan.”

“How do you know that this is what ‘StarClan’ wants?” Crowpaw hissed, turning to glare at her. “I have plenty of faith in StarClan. Who I don’t have faith in is him.”

Crowpaw jabbed his tail towards Brambleclaw for emphasis.

“Why else would StarClan have sent these dreams to us, if they didn’t want us to do something?” Feathertail asked, her brow furrowing. “The prophetic dreams we’ve gotten must all be connected together somehow— it doesn’t matter that Brambleclaw got this specific one, instead of us.”

“Are you rabbit-brained? Of course it matters,” Crowpaw growled, his shoulders still tense, but he tempered his tone as Feathertail continued to speak in a soft, calm murmur. “Maybe StarClan just wants Brambleclaw to throw himself off a cliff and into some salty water— not you and me.”

Brambleclaw’s pelt bristled out in offense, but a hint of amusement flashed in Feathertail’s eyes.

“But, if this didn’t involve all of us, we all wouldn’t have gotten the same first dream, right?” Feathertail pressed, her clear blue gaze intent on Crowpaw. “You must have been chosen for a reason, Crowpaw. StarClan picked four cats. Not one. You’re just as important to this prophecy as any of us, and I’m not sure if we could even do whatever it is that StarClan wants us to do, without you. Please come with us.”

Crowpaw hesitated. As much as he hated the idea of leaving his mother and his Clan, especially when he was so close to finally becoming a warrior, Feathertail’s argument had started to chip away at his resolve.

What if she’s right? What if this is what Deadfoot wants me to do? Would I be letting him down if I didn’t go?

Crowpaw kneaded his claws indecisively into the ground.

Oh why couldn’t Deadfoot have sent me another sign too? So I could know if I’m doing the right thing…

All of them, Feathertail, Stormfur and Brambleclaw, were staring at Crowpaw, waiting for a response. Reluctantly, Crowpaw turned back to Brambleclaw.

“Has Tawnypelt agreed to this ludicrous plan?” he asked.

Brambleclaw nodded.

“Yes. She wants to come,” he said.

“I’m coming too,” Stormfur said, speaking up for the first time. “The journey might be dangerous, and it could be useful for you all to have another set of paws around. Besides, I’m not going to let Feathertail go out into the unknown without me.”

Crowpaw rumbled a low growl to himself.

“Great. I’m surrounded by rabbit-brains,” he muttered. 

Stormfur’s brow furrowed.

“Fine,” Crowpaw added in a louder voice, before Stormfur could say anything. “I’ll go.”

He narrowed his eyes at Brambleclaw.

“But, don’t think this means that I’m doing it for you,” he said. “I’m doing it for WindClan and for StarClan.”

Feathertail purred in relief at Crowpaw’s agreement.

“That’s fine,” Brambleclaw rumbled in response to Crowpaw. “Let’s leave soon. Does meeting at Fourtrees at moonhigh, two nights before the half-moon work for everyone?”

Crowpaw nodded reluctantly along with Feathertail and Stormfur, although his belly twisted.

That’s only a day away!

“Alright,” Brambleclaw said, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness as sunset turned to twilight. “I’ll see you all then.”

Without another word, Crowpaw stalked away from the others, but even as he slipped safely back across the border into WindClan land, his pelt still bristled uneasily. Opening up his stride, Crowpaw’s long legs ate up the ground as he streaked back towards WindClan camp. If Ashfoot had passed on his message to Mudclaw, his mentor would surely be angry that he came back empty-pawed. But, whatever scolding or punishment Crowpaw would get hardly mattered now— not now that he’d be gone so soon.

Crowpaw’s belly clenched, his pace slowing as he reached the crest of the hill that surrounded WindClan’s camp. Someone down there was singing a hymn. Crowpaw was too far to make out the words, but judging by the deep timbre of the voice, it was likely Stagleap, appealing to StarClan for the healing of his denmates as the sky darkened and the first few stars of Silverpelt appeared. Or maybe it was Tallstar himself, praying for water and prey to be brought back to the moor. 

Crowpaw closed his eyes, letting the soft, familiar sounds and scents wash over him for a moment before his gaze flickered open again. He stared down at his home, unhappiness buffeting his pelt as persistently as the breeze.

Am I really going to leave everything and everyone I know behind… based on just the word of those annoying furballs?

Chapter Text

Mothwing carefully arranged the lilac flower she’d picked on the large flat stone behind the medicine cats’ den just like Mudfur had shown her. Other plants hung on the back part of the den, drying in the breeze, but the lilac wasn’t a herb that would be useful for treating any of Mothwing’s Clanmates. This flower was just for her to decorate her nest or den with as she pleased, and it would be the very first she’d preserved using the technique Mudfur used.

Mothwing placed a second, smaller stone on the flower, pressing it flat between the two warm rocks. She rose to her paws, her whiskers twitching with pleasure. Now all she had to do was wait a moon or so, and she’d have a flower that would stay perfect forever.

Maybe I’ll give it to Hawkfrost, so he finally has something to decorate his den with now that I’m not there. And, he’ll have no reason to complain because it’ll never wilt and rot!

Mothwing stretched, her heart warm with contentment, before she turned and trotted around the den and back into the camp clearing. 

The darkening camp was quiet now. It was a little after sunset and most warriors were still out fishing, patrolling, or training, but it wouldn’t be long before they returned for the night. The ones who were here were already relaxing— Stormfur and Mistyfoot were eating a fish in front of the den they shared with Feathertail, Leopardstar was meticulously grooming her striking golden-spotted coat, and Skyheart and Grasswhisker were sharing tongues in front of the nursery. 

Mothwing’s gaze skimmed over Grasswhisker’s swollen belly.

Mudfur said it won’t be long now until Grasswhisker’s kits are born. That’ll be the first time I’ll get to help with a kitting.

Mothwing felt a jolt of nervousness at the thought. She knew kitting could sometimes be perilous.

Mothwing did her best to push the anxiety away.

The kitting will be fine, just as long as it’s not right now!

The problem was, Mudfur wasn’t in camp at the moment. Earlier in the day Barkface had come to RiverClan, requesting his help with something in WindClan. Leopardstar had let Mudfur go, although Mothwing hadn’t missed the hesitance in her expression when she’d done so.

Mothwing’s ears angled back as her contentment again wavered slightly. She had wanted to go with Mudfur to treat whatever WindClan cat who presumably needed help, but Mudfur had asked her to stay in camp and he’d carried a bundle of herbs over to WindClan territory by himself. 

Mothwing gave her head a small shake, trying to not let it bother her.

I’ve barely started training, and I haven’t even gone to the Moonstone yet. It’s probably better that I stayed in camp. And, Mudfur promised to take me with him the next time some other Clan comes asking for help!

Besides, Mudfur being gone had given Mothwing the perfect opportunity to try out his flower preservation technique, like she’d wanted to do since the moment she’d asked about them in his den. 

Determined to not let this small thing ruin her good mood, Mothwing kept her tail held high as she padded further into the camp’s clearing. She’d only taken a few more steps when the reeds at the edge of camp shivered, and Hawkfrost came pushing through, his pelt still dripping from his swim to get to the island.

“Hawkfrost!” Mothwing meowed happily, her tail waving in greeting.

Hawkfrost spared her a quick glance, but didn’t head over to her. Instead, he made a beeline straight for Leopardstar, his face set in a deep frown. A bit of worry that something was wrong nettled at Mothwing, and she followed her brother over.

“Leopardstar, I have something to report,” Hawkfrost announced.

Leopardstar blinked at him in surprise, straightening from a crouch into a sit as she took in his serious expression.

“Where’s the rest of your border patrol, Hawkfrost? I thought Reedtail was leading it,” she meowed.

Hawkfrost flicked his tail impatiently.

“They’re fine and should be back soon. But, I thought this was important enough that I should hurry ahead,” he said. “I picked up more WindClan scent on our territory, outside the boundaries you allowed them near the twoleg bridge.”

Anger darkened Leopardstar’s amber eyes, and she released a low growl. 

“Is that so?” she rumbled.

“Could it just have been Barkface?” Mistyfoot broke in before Leopardstar’s anger could completely overtake her.

Mothwing glanced towards her. The deputy had clearly been listening in to Hawkfrost’s report, and judging by the angle of Stormfur’s ears, he was too.

“He came by earlier to ask for Mudfur’s assistance. Remember?” Mistyfoot continued.

Hawkfrost lashed his tail, shooting a sharp look at the deputy.

“This scent was too fresh for that. And, that’s not the only thing. There was ThunderClan scent there too!” Hawkfrost declared, his claws flexing.

Mothwing’s brow furrowed.

That is strange... Why would a ThunderClan cat be on our territory?

“I appreciate your initiative in reporting this to me, Hawkfrost,” Leopardstar said in a low voice. “This certainly needs looking into.”

“But, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Mistyfoot added.

Hawkfrost growled and again turned his bright blue glare onto the deputy, his pelt prickling.

“‘Jump to conclusions?’” he echoed incredulously. “Their reeking rabbit scent is on our territory, Mistyfoot! You can go out there and sniff it yourself if you don’t believe me. But that is the fact, so what other conclusions can we draw except that they are trespassing?!”

Mothwing couldn’t stop herself from blinking in shock at how brazenly her brother challenged Mistyfoot.

She’s the deputy! She must know better than he does… right?

“Are you truly certain that it’s not Barkface?” Stormfur spoke up for the first time, leveling an even gaze at Hawkfrost. “Perhaps he went to ThunderClan territory to ask Cinderpelt for help before then asking Mudfur. If he picked up some ThunderClan scent on the way, that could explain it.”

Hawkfrost’s and Stormfur’s gazes met and blended into each other’s for a moment— a passionate, burning blue against a cool, calm amber in an exact reversal of Leopardstar’s and Mistyfoot’s gazes. It was Hawkfrost who finally glanced away and shook his head.

“It’s not right. This scent is too recent, like I said,” he reiterated.

Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes, clearly growing impatient with Hawkfrost’s arguing.

“And you couldn’t be mistaken?” she pressed.

Hawkfrost opened his jaws, his pelt bristling in offense, but Mistyfoot turned her attention onto Leopardstar, continuing before Hawkfrost could respond.

“I just think Stormfur makes a sensible point about Barkface,” she said. “Yes, things are a bit tense with WindClan right now. But we haven’t had any issues with ThunderClan in seasons. Why would they suddenly decide to trespass now? It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but what we do know is that Barkface passed through that part of our territory earlier today. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and sounds like a duck, why are we assuming it’s a snake instead?”

Leopardstar hesitated, his gaze flickering from Mistyfoot and Stormfur to Hawkfrost, and back again as she thought. A few tense heartbeats of silence stretched by before Leopardstar’s gaze finally settled back on Hawkfrost.

“It sounds like we do not have enough evidence yet to draw a definite conclusion,” Leopardstar said, although her tone sounded reluctant. “But, Hawkfrost, thank you for informing me about this. We certainly need to keep a closer eye on WindClan, and maybe even ThunderClan too, going forward. If you notice anything else suspicious, I want you to come to me immediately.”

Despite the displeasure still shining in his eyes, Hawkfrost bowed his head.

“Yes, Leopardstar,” he murmured.

He turned around and immediately started stalking back towards the edge of camp like he was going to leave again, and Mothwing hurried to catch him.

“Where are you going?” she asked, finally reaching his side and matching her pace to his.

“I’m going back to the border,” Hawkfrost growled, his broad shoulders tight with anger. “I’m going to find some hard evidence and prove stupid Mistyfoot and Stormfur wrong. I know what I smelled and it was not Barkface.”

“But, it sounds like you already investigated that area really closely, right?” Mothwing pointed out gently. “Why don’t you just stay in camp and rest, and we’ll have some fresh-kill? I don’t think you’ll be able to find anything else tonight.”

“And, let any evidence I missed be washed away by morning?” he snarled, shooting a sharp look at her.

Mothwing blinked.

“What I’m saying is that there might not be any evidence you’re missing,” she said carefully.

“So you don’t believe me about the WindClan weasels either?!” Hawkfrost hissed incredulously, his ears twisting back.

“No! I didn’t say that,” Mothwing protested. “I believe you, but I just think that if you didn’t find anything today, then there’s just nothing there today. But, if WindClan is trespassing, then you will, of course, find some evidence eventually.” 

Hawkfrost huffed in irritation, rolling his eyes.

“‘Eventually,’” he growled. “Yeah okay, Moth. Whatever.”

They reached the reed shrouded edge of the island, and Hawkfrost unceremoniously shoved his way through the stalks, splashing into the water without another word. Mothwing gazed after him, her tail flicking with annoyance.

Fine then. Don’t take my advice and instead go and spend all night looking for something that’s not there. Minnow-brain.

With a huff, Mothwing turned aside and padded back towards the medicine cats’ den, her brow furrowed. She was still thinking about Hawkfrost when she slipped inside, so it took her a few moments to realize she wasn’t the only cat in the den. 

Mothwing jerked in surprise when spotted the shadowed figure hunched over the herb storage, and they, in turn, jumped when they noticed her, whipping around with their pelt poofing out.

“Can I help you?” Mothwing meowed in confusion, blinking hard as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer den interior.

Her vision finally cleared, and Mothwing’s surprise and confusion only heightened when she recognized the silver-and-black striped figure as Feathertail, who was gazing at her with wide blue eyes.

“Oh. Uh…” Mothwing meowed, her pelt prickling awkwardly as Feathertail continued to simply stare at her.

Mothwing gave her ears a small shake and inhaled a deep breath.

Okay, Feathertail always avoids me, but I should have known that interacting with her was inevitable, now that I’m training to be a medicine cat. No matter how Feathertail acts, I just need to treat her like I would any other Clanmate who was my patient.

Mothwing shoved away her lingering negative emotions from her quarrel with Hawkfrost. Instead she lifted her tail in a friendly greeting, and did her best to arrange her face into the most pleasant expression she could manage.

“Hi Feathertail! What do you need?” Mothwing said, forcing cheeriness into her voice.

Feathertail blinked, her mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish as she searched for words that didn’t come.

“I er– was looking for Mudfur,” Feathertail finally settled on, her tail twitching uneasily behind her.

Mothwing blinked.

“Oh. Well, Mudfur’s out of camp right now,” she said. “Barkface requested his help in WindClan earlier, remember?”

“Um, yes. Right…” Feathertail said, her ears flattening down against her head. “Well… in that case, I guess I’ll just be going.”

Feathertail took a pace forward, inviting Mothwing to step aside from the den’s entrance so she could slink out, but Mothwing didn’t move.

“Is there anything I could help you with?” Mothwing asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

Even though Mothwing, of course, usually hardly talked to Feathertail, she could still tell that something was off with her right now. This wasn’t Feathertail’s typical aloof behavior— she seemed jumpy… Almost nervous.

Is she injured? Sick?

Worry swirled in Mothwing’s belly.

What do I do if it’s something really bad? Mudfur isn’t here right now, and I’ve only been training for a couple days! I don’t know anything!

“It’s nothing,” Feathertail said quickly. “Just a slight stomach ache. I probably ate a fish that sat out a bit too long, that’s all.”

Mothwing’s ears jutted up, relief and excitement running through her fur.

A stomach ache! Oh thank StarClan, that’s an easy fix. Mudfur showed me the herbs to treat that on my first day!

“Oh!” Mothwing meowed eagerly. “I know just the thing for that! All you need is some juniper berries.”

She padded forward, heading back towards the herb storage with Feathertail reluctantly trailing behind her.

“I’m really not sure…” Feathertail mumbled.

Mothwing ignored her, her gaze skimming over Mudfur’s neat, organized herb piles, but she blinked in surprise as she noticed one of the piles was disturbed, a few dark green leaves tugged away from the others. 

I don’t think Mudfur took any of that earlier, and I didn’t touch it.

Her brow furrowing, Mothwing bent over to give the leaves a hesitant sniff.

That’s daisy I think.

Mothwing glanced back over at Feathertail.

“Did you pull those out?” she asked.

Feathertail’s face twisted into a grimace.

“Sorry. I thought it might help…” she muttered, avoiding Mothwing’s eyes.

“You shouldn’t get herbs by yourself. You could make yourself sick if you don’t know what they are, or if you take the wrong dose,” Mothwing said slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion.

But, Feathertail’s a smart cat, not a kit. She should know that. So, why would she be messing with the herbs by herself? It doesn’t make sense.

Mothwing blinked, her stomach clenching as an insidious thought crept into her mind.

Unless she hates you so much that she’d be willing to risk it, just so she doesn’t have to get treatment from you.

Feathertail was silent, still staring down at the ground instead of meeting Mothwing’s gaze. Mothwing did her best to stamp out the thought, turning back to the herb storage.

“Anyway though,” she continued briskly. “I’m pretty sure that’s daisy. It’s a traveling herb. It wouldn’t help you with your stomach ache.”

“Right,” Feathertail muttered.

Mothwing shoved the stray daisy leaves back with the others, turning instead to the dusky blue juniper berries. She rolled one over towards Feathertail down the flat stone with a small bat of her paw.

“There you go,” she said, turning to gaze at Feathertail expectantly. “This should make you feel better.”

Feathertail gazed down at the small berry, and silence stretched between them for a moment.

“...Maybe we should wait until Mudfur gets back, just so we know it’s the right herb,” Feathertail said in a low voice.

That quiet mutter was enough to slash away any remaining bits of Mothwing’s excitement and confidence. Her belly sank down like she’d swallowed a boulder.

See? She does hate you.

Mothwing blinked hard a few times, her ears angling back and a lump starting to form in the back of her throat.

“Trust me, it’s fine,” she insisted, staring at Feathertail, even as she continued to refuse to look at her. “Mudfur has already got me giving juniper berries to Loudbelly all the time. I promise, I haven’t mixed it up. This is like… the one herb I’m completely confident about.”

“It’s alright,” Feathertail said softly, rising to her paws. “My stomach doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. I’m fine. Really.”

She turned around, towards the den’s exit.

Normally Mothwing would just shove her emotions back down, burying them away under layers and layers, somewhere way down deep where she could no longer feel them hurting. 

But, maybe it was the small argument she’d gotten into with Hawkfrost when her brother had rejected her advice, or Mudfur not trusting her enough to take her with him to WindClan, on top of Feathertail refusing her help… Whatever the cause, something snapped inside Mothwing today, and with the dam gone, she found a torrent of feeling rushing through her, coming like a flood after so many moons and moons of build up, growing since the days of her kithood. 

“Why do you hate me?” Mothwing rasped in a low tone to Feathertail’s back before she could leave the den. “I never did anything to you.”

Feathertail’s tufted ears pricked in surprise, and she turned back, finally meeting Mothwing’s eyes.

“Hate you?” she echoed, her ears twisting back.

Mothwing swallowed with difficulty.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a breath in volume. 

Mothwing swiped a paw across her stinging eyes, her belly twisting. She knew she must look like such a sniveling kit right now, her voice coming out so sad and broken, but she couldn’t help it. 

“I’m only trying to help you. But, StarClan, you act like I want to poison you or something.” Mothwing shook her head, barking out a bitter, humorless laugh, and Feathertail’s ears flattened lower against her skull. “You know, I even thought we were friends once, when I was a kit. I looked up to you. I thought you were so cool, and pretty, and amazing. How you could fight and swim and you weren’t even afraid of the water…”

Mothwing’s voice trailed off, the bittersweet memories washing over her until all the good parts seeped away and left only pain behind. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling a shaky breath, and when Mothwing’s eyes flickered open again, her gaze had hardened.

“But, then it didn’t even take you a heartbeat to drop me and my brother as soon as you found out who our father was. We can’t help where we’re from, and I thought you knew that, that you were different than all the other eel-hearts in RiverClan. But you—”

“I don’t hate you, Mothwing,” Feathertail suddenly said in a low voice, interrupting her.

For a moment, Mothwing’s eyes widened in surprise. But, she quickly shook it off with a huff and a flick of her ears.

“Really?” she muttered. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Feathertail stared at her for a moment in silence, and an expression that looked a lot like guilt crept across her face.

“I don’t,” Feathertail insisted. “I– I… It’s complicated. Sasha, your mother…”

A look of pain, betrayal, and remorse flashed in Feathertail’s blue eyes for a moment. Her voice cut off, and she broke eye-contact, her gaze dropping back to the sandy ground. Silence stretched between them again, long enough this time that Mothwing felt some of her bitterness starting to ebb away as the flood of emotion began to peter out.

“I’m sorry. I never intended to make you feel bad,” Feathertail muttered. 

Mothwing turned her gaze away as well, instead staring at Mudfur’s flower peppered wall and taking comfort in the sight of the cheerful blossoms and the permeating scent of herbs. Mothwing took a few deep breaths and somehow managed to round her remaining emotions up, shoving them back down under the surface.

“...It’s fine,” Mothwing finally said in a low voice, even though it really wasn’t.

Mothwing waited, but no reply met her words. After another heartbeat passed, Mothwing glanced back over at the den’s exit to see that Feathertail was already gone. The gentle swaying of the sedges near the exit was the only indication that she’d even ever been there at all.

Chapter Text

Crowpaw opened his eyes and glanced around at his sleeping Clanmates. His stomach had been twisted up into too many knots for him to have slept a wink, even though he knew that he would likely be traveling for the rest of the night and needed his strength. 

Crowpaw remained lying in his nest for as long as possible, staring out at nothing as the waxing moon ticked higher and higher into the sky, avoiding the inevitable. But, he couldn’t just lie there forever— if he put off leaving for much longer then he would miss the designated moonhigh meeting time, and the others might think that he had changed his mind about going.

Crowpaw slowly and silently rose to his paws, every hair on his pelt straining with protest against the movement. He took a deep breath, steading himself as he glanced around his home, taking in the WindClan camp for a final time and his gaze quickly found Ashfoot’s grey pelt. His belly heavy with regret, Crowpaw slunk over to her sleeping side. He gazed down at his mother for a moment.

Would leaving be easier if I told her why I’m going? But, what if she acts like Nightcloud and doesn't believe me about my dream? What if she tries to stop me?

Crowpaw sadly shook his ears. He couldn’t risk it.

Ashfoot’s familiar, comforting scent, tinged with sweetness like the heather of the moor, washed over Crowpaw as he dipped his head to lightly touch his muzzle to her side.

Goodbye, Mother.

Crowpaw turned aside and started tiptoeing away. There was a soft rustling behind him as a cat stirred in their nest.

“...Crowpaw?” Ashfoot asked in a sleepy whisper. “Where are you going?”

Crowpaw glanced back at her from out of the corner of his eyes, but he couldn’t make himself look directly at her face.

“Go back to sleep, Mom,” he murmured. “I’m just heading to the dirtplace. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Ashfoot muttered an affirmative, her voice trailing off as she slipped off again. Crowpaw waited for a bit longer to make sure that she was sleeping soundly enough that she wouldn’t wake up again before he slipped away.

Thanks to his first time sneaking out at the new moon and figuring out how to make it to Fourtrees unseen by the guard on the Outlook Rock, Crowpaw’s journey over there this time was much swifter than before. He arrived at the hollow just as the moon passed its zenith, but he sighed in relief that he wasn’t too late– the marshy smell of ShadowClan and the clear-water scent of RiverClan greeted him as he entered into the clearing. Tawnypelt gave Crowpaw a distant, but polite nod when he emerged from the undergrowth, which Crowpaw returned before glancing over at Feathertail and Stormfur. Feathertail greeted Crowpaw with a purr and a wave of her silver-and-black striped tail, which made Crowpaw’s ears warm slightly.

“Did you make it out of camp alright?” Feathertail asked him.

“Yeah, although someone woke up as I was leaving,” he muttered. “I had to make sure she had fallen back asleep, so that’s why I’m a bit late.”

“Not as late as Brambleclaw,” Tawnypelt said, her brow furrowing. “If it wasn’t for the fact that my brother organized this whole thing, I’d think he’s not coming.”

“Maybe he got caught sneaking out of camp,” Stormfur suggested.

“He must be coming. We just need to wait for him,” Feathertail said.

“Well it better be soon,” Crowpaw grunted, his tail-tip flicking. “The sun sets in that direction.”

Crowpaw twisted his head around to point his muzzle back towards WindClan territory. “So we’ll be heading that way, and my Clanmates wake up before dawn. The longer we wait, the bigger the risk of getting caught by someone as we travel across the moor.”

Tawnypelt nodded in agreement. Silence fell over the group as they waited, the moon dipping lower in the sky. Crowpaw found himself pacing across the clearing, anxious energy crackling across his pelt like lightning. The reality of the situation was hitting him now, pressing heavily on his back like a boulder. Soon his earliest rising Clanmates would be waking and noticing his nest was cold and empty. What if cats were sent out to look for him? If they were going, they needed to leave soon. 

Where is stupid Brambleclaw?!

Finally the bushes ringing the clearing rustled, and the musty scent of ThunderClan drifted over to Crowpaw on the breeze.

Tawnypelt leapt to her paws as the dark tabby form of Brambleclaw emerged from the bracken.

“Finally!” she said.

“Sorry,” Brambleclaw puffed like he’d been running. “We got a little hung up.”

“‘We?’” Crowpaw echoed, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

The bushes behind Brambleclaw rustled again, and Squirrelpaw came trotting out. She was panting like Brambleclaw, but her bushy tail was held high and her eyes were bright. Dismay crashed over Crowpaw, and he found his claws unsheathing.

“What? No. No!” Crowpaw hissed, glaring at Brambleclaw. “What’s she doing here, Brambleclaw?!”

“Uh– hello, I’m right here, and perfectly capable of speaking,” Squirrelpaw snapped, her shoulder fur bristling. 

“As we are all far too aware,” Crowpaw hissed. 

“I’m coming with you guys,” Squirrelpaw continued as if he hadn’t spoken, lifting her chin.

Tawnypelt’s brow furrowed.

“I’ve got to say, I’m with Crowpaw on this one,” she said. “This journey will be too dangerous for an apprentice.”

“Crowpaw’s an apprentice!” Squirrelpaw protested, her voice rising with offense.

“I’m older than you, more trained than you, and I was chosen by StarClan. Not you,” Crowpaw snapped.

“Stormfur wasn’t chosen either, but he’s not just here to say goodbye to his sister, is he?” Squirrelpaw argued.

Feathertail and Stormfur exchanged a worried glance.

“Squirrelpaw is coming,” Brambleclaw growled. “And, that’s that. Now let’s go. Dawn will soon be approaching.”

Crowpaw arched his back.

“This wasn’t part of what I agreed to!” he hissed. “I’m not taking one step until she leaves!”

Tawnypelt sighed, shaking her head.

“We can’t force her to leave,” she said. “So, if she’s insisting on coming, we should just get going. We’ve already wasted enough moonlight as is.”

“I could chase her off,” Crowpaw growled, meeting Squirrelpaw’s glare and narrowing his eyes.

“I’d like to see you try!” Squirrelpaw snarled, unsheathing her claws.

“Don’t fight,” Feathertail said, stepping between them and turning an appealing gaze onto Crowpaw. “It might be useful to have Squirrelpaw around.”

Crowpaw snorted incredulously.

Useful?! Her only use is just going to make me want to pull my fur out with annoyance!

“Let’s go,” Brambleclaw insisted again.

Anger smarted deep in Crowpaw’s belly, but he’d clearly been outvoted. Giving a furious growl, he whirled around and stomped towards the moorlands. The sound of paw-steps behind him told him that the others were following. They murmured together, and Crowpaw’s claws flexed in and out in frustration. Feathertail put on a small burst of speed to catch up with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, glancing around at the moor. “You said your Clanmates get up before dawn, right?”

“Yeah,” Crowpaw grunted. “But, if we move quickly we should be able to avoid any patrols. We should travel alongside the edge of the thunderpath that borders ShadowClan territories towards Highstones. The scent of the thunderpath will mask our own.”

Traveling at that very edge of WindClan territory would also keep the group out of the sight range of the sentries on Outlook Rock, but Crowpaw didn’t feel comfortable sharing that information with any cat outside of WindClan.

Feathertail nodded.

“That’s a really good idea,” she said, and Crowpaw’s bristling pelt flattened as the edge of his anger dulled.

“I’ll tell the others,” she added.

Feathertail dropped back again, leaving Crowpaw at the head of the patrol. His emotions swept over him again as he watched the familiar moorland scroll by. 

Would he even make it back to his Clan after this harebrained quest? Or would this be the last time he saw WindClan’s moors?

Despite the fact that Crowpaw was paranoid for every step of the way about running into his Clanmates, it still felt like much too soon when they reached the end of WindClan’s territory. But, the land that stretched ahead of them now wasn’t all too unfamiliar– this was the same way cats would travel to reach Highstones. In only a couple of days, medicine cats from each Clan would be following this very same path on the half-moon.

A twoleg structure called a barn was nearby; that was the place where Ravenpaw lived with his mate, Barley. They were hospitable loners who were happy to host any Clan cats that wandered by. Crowpaw was gazing in the direction of their barn when Brambleclaw padded up to his side.

“I was thinking that we might stop there and rest,” he said, nodding towards the barn.

“Rest? Now? We’ve barely left Clan territory,” Crowpaw said, his brow furrowing.

“Yes, but Ravenpaw knows about the sundrown-place, remember? It might be useful to get more information from him,” Brambleclaw said.

“And, that place is crawling with mice!” Tawnypelt added, swiping her tongue over her whiskers. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a good meal.”

“Yeah, maybe we should build up our strength for a day before we enter unknown territory,” Stormfur agreed in a rumble.

“Yes, I’m hungry! I vote barn!” Squirrelpaw said, her eyes lighting up.

“You don’t get a vote,” Crowpaw growled.

“Well I vote barn too,” Tawnypelt said, striding off towards it before letting anyone else chime in.

Squirrelpaw bounded eagerly at her tail, and Brambleclaw and Stormfur followed them. Feathertail was the only one who glanced back to make sure Crowpaw was also coming. He did trudge after them, but he made sure to mutter curses at their backs as he did so, anger bubbling up just underneath his skin. Feathertail waited for him to catch up before matching her pace to his.

“...Stopping at the barn isn’t such a bad idea,” Feathertail meowed to him hesitantly. “They’re right about a good meal and rest.”

“What they are is stupid and lazy,” Crowpaw snapped, his tail twitching. “No one but me seems to be taking this seriously! This isn’t a romp or some grand adventure away from life in our Clans! We’re doing this to save our Clans from some kind of ‘great struggle,’ and yet they want to burn an entire day lying around and stuffing their faces with mice!”

Feathertail suddenly cut in front of him, forcing Crowpaw to halt as to not hit her. He blinked at her in surprise as she stared at him, her blue gaze suddenly more serious than he’d ever seen it before.

“We are taking this seriously,” Feathertail insisted in a low voice. “Why else would any of us be here? Stormfur has an apprentice. Lots of cats in RiverClan look to him, and he has lots of responsibilities that really pained him to leave behind… but he came here with us because of me. Because I believe what Stonefur told me, and I insisted on going. I’ll admit, I don’t know Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, or Tawnypelt as well as I know my brother. But, I can tell that they are loyal to their Clanmates, and it would not be easy for them to leave them behind either. You’re not the only one who cares about getting back to your Clan.” 

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur rose, anger at being challenged building in him.

“And, what about you?” Crowpaw demanded. “Did it pain you to leave RiverClan? You seemed pretty eager to jump on this harebrained journey when Brambleclaw suggested it.”

Another expression new to Crowpaw crossed Feathertail’s face. They hadn’t been around each other long, but he’d already grown used to her friendly eyes— the gaze he found easiest out of anyone else’s to meet since she was at least willing to listen to him, rather than just disagree or argue, like Squirrelpaw or Brambleclaw. But now, all that friendly openness disappeared as Feathertail seemed to retreat into herself and a cold guarded look came up to replace it. Feathertail’s gaze dropped, and she stared off into the distance for a moment.

“...The StarClan warrior who I saw in my dream— Stonefur,” Feathertail muttered finally. “He was a very important cat to me. You could say that I owe him my life. He asked this of me, and I’d first die before I let him down.”

Crowpaw’s fur flattened, his anger fading. Feathertail hadn’t quite answered his question, but the response she had given had told him enough. Their motivations were much the same— after all, wasn’t Deadfoot one of, if not the biggest, reason Crowpaw had agreed to go on this stupid quest too?

Before Crowpaw could figure out what to say to her, Feathertail turned aside and stalked away, quickening her pace to a run in order to catch up with the group. Crowpaw gazed after her, and the chasm between him and the others seemed to yawn even wider.

They were greeted by Ravenpaw and Barley nearly as soon as they entered the barn. Ravenpaw was a slight black-furred cat with friendly, bright green eyes and a dab of white on his chest and tail-tip. Barley was a much bulkier black-and-white tom, and he hung back a bit, seeming uncomfortable around the large group of cats. Ravenpaw listened patiently as Brambleclaw explained that they had decided to travel to the sundrown-place and introduced each member of the group to the pair of loners. After giving the group a polite nod, Barley slunk away, and Crowpaw wished he could do the same.

“Don’t mind Barley,” Ravenpaw said amicably. “It’s not often we have so many visitors all at once. Feel free to hunt; you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

“We’ll only be here for a day at most,” Brambleclaw said. “Likely leaving tomorrow morning.”

Ravenpaw nodded.

“Well, whenever you decide to go, I’ll go with you as far as Highstones,” Ravenpaw said. “I don’t know much about the full journey, but I can at least point you in the right direction.”

“Yeah, towards the setting sun. We all know that,” Crowpaw muttered bitterly.

“Shh! Don’t be rude!” Squirrelpaw hissed at him.

Crowpaw flexed his claws in and out, his frustration mounting. He didn’t even want to be here wasting time in this barn in the first place! And, now this little ThunderClan apprentice was bossing him around, when this whole idea was nonsensical?

“I can say what I like,” Crowpaw hissed back at her before whirling to glare at Brambleclaw. “And, waiting until tomorrow morning to leave the barn is utterly ridiculous!”

Brambleclaw opened his mouth to respond, but Crowpaw barreled on before he could.

“Right now, it’s still early morning. I get that you’re tired and hungry; I didn’t sleep at all last night either. But, we are following the setting sun, right? So why would we wait to leave until tomorrow morning, when we should be leaving this evening, when the direction that we need to go is most obvious? And, knowing ThunderClan cats, when you say ‘tomorrow morning’ you really mean midmorning, not dawn or sunrise, which is the time we should be traveling if we are traveling in the morning, since we’d know to keep the sun at our backs. Instead of you rabbit-brains thinking like ThunderClan warriors, you should really begin thinking like WindClan warriors, since that would make travel easiest! And, you’d get your lazy tails up at dawn, travel until the sun gets too high to tell where sunrise is, rest during midday, then start traveling again in the evening so we can walk towards the sunset.”

Crowpaw was panting slightly after his rant, and a part of him was honestly shocked that Squirrelpaw and the others had let him go on for so long uninterrupted. His traveling companions and Ravenpaw stared at him with wide eyes, and Crowpaw’s fur prickled. He braced himself, just waiting for them to scoff and mock his ideas.

“Crowpaw’s right,” Tawnypelt said, and Crowpaw blinked in surprise. “It does make sense to do most of our traveling at dawn and dusk. Besides, twolegs and dogs are most active during the day, and this will help us avoid them.”

Tawnypelt flicked her mottled-colored ears.

“And, admittedly, it’ll be easier for me to adjust that way too. In ShadowClan, we sleep through the day and do most things after dark. This way, I won’t have to entirely invert my sleep schedule.”

Squirrelpaw blinked at Tawnypelt in surprise.

“Wait, ShadowClan is actually nocturnal?! I thought that was a myth!” she said.

Tawnypelt’s whiskers twitched in faint amusement.

“Nope. It’s very real, and right now I’m very sleepy,” she said drily.

“It’ll be an adjustment for us and the ThunderClan cats too,” Stormfur added, his brow furrowing. “In RiverClan, we typically don’t wake until far after sunrise.”

“Dawn patrol is a punishment, ” Squirrelpaw chimed in, giving a solemn nod.

Tawnypelt’s whiskers twitched with wry amusement.

“How does that old elder-advice go? ‘The best compromises are the ones that make everyone a little unhappy?’” she said.

“But, not everyone is unhappy. Crowpaw gets what he wants,” Squirrelpaw grumbled, shooting a glare over at him.

Crowpaw’s back began to arch defensively. 

“I think Crowpaw is already suffering enough as is, by being stuck here with us,” Tawnypelt said with her same dry humor.

“Feathertail, you haven’t said anything about this yet,” Brambleclaw broke in, glancing over at her. “What do you think?”

Feathertail shrugged, avoiding looking at Crowpaw.

“I’ll do what the group thinks is best,” she muttered.

“Alright, it seems like we are in agreement then,” Brambleclaw said, giving Crowpaw a small nod. “We will rest for the day and leave here in the evening.”

A brief rush of pride and relief that he had been heard flooded through Crowpaw as the group dispersed to hunt mice and rest. Crowpaw easily caught some mice and ate his fill, but as everyone settled down to sleep, the feeling soon faded and instead discontent again swelled in his chest. 

Tawnypelt, Brambleclaw, and Squirrelpaw all lounged in the straw nearby each other as if they weren’t even from different Clans at all. Stormfur and Feathertail were a bit separate from those three, but only by a couple of tail-lengths. The RiverClan siblings curled up so closely that their fur mingled together like they were one cat, and they were purring with laughter at something Squirrelpaw had said. Like all of them were a bunch of old friends.

Crowpaw stared at them, a heavy weight sinking in his belly. Somehow, even in a group composed of cats from different Clans, he still managed to be the outsider: The lonely kit with no siblings to play with. The apprentice who never could become a warrior, no matter how hard he tried. The cat too disagreeable to have any friends– who only his mother could put up with.

At the thought of Ashfoot, a sharp pang of longing stabbed in his chest. She’d surely have noticed that he was well-and-truly missing by now. She was probably worried sick, maybe even fearing that she’d lost her final kit. 

Oh StarClan, I wish I could go back home.

He knew that he had to do what his ancestors had asked of him, but he wished there was someway he could follow their will without feeling like such a terrible son.

Crowpaw’s gaze flickered over Feathertail. She hadn’t looked him in the eye since they’d had that argument earlier. She’d been the one cat in the group who had seemed truly willing to try to be Crowpaw’s friend, but he’d already messed that up too. 

The heaviness in Crowpaw’s belly took on an extra weight of regret. They hadn’t even been journeying for a day and things were already getting worse and worse for him. How could he survive who-knows-how-many sunrises of this?

Crowpaw laid down where he stood, many fox-lengths away from the others, and closed his eyes, praying that his misery didn’t keep him awake.

Chapter Text

Delicately, Mothwing draped some dock leaves on the woven reeds that formed the outside part of the medicine cats’ den, letting them dry in the sun. A bit earlier in the day, she and Mudfur had gone out to gather them, and right now even a task as simple and straightforward as collecting and drying herbs made her paws tingle with excitement. She was finally training as a medicine cat— doing real medicine cat… things!

As Mothwing worked, a flash of blue-grey fur in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Mothwing glanced over to see Mistyfoot padding up to her. The deputy’s brow was furrowed deeply, and her tail swished from side to side in agitation. 

Mothwing got to her paws, her contentment rapidly fading to be replaced with anxiety as she took in Mistyfoot’s expression. Something was wrong. Was someone sick or hurt?

“Mistyfoot, are you okay?” Mothwing asked.

Mistyfoot hesitated, her ears twisting back.

“You left pretty early this morning to gather herbs, right?” she said finally.

Mothwing nodded.

“When you left did you happen to see Feathertail and Stormfur? Or run into them while you were outside of camp?” Mistyfoot asked, her tail-tip still flicking.

“No. I haven’t seen them today,” Mothwing responded.

The worry in Mistyfoot’s eyes deepened.

“They weren’t in their nests this morning. I thought that they just left camp early to go fishing or something, but they haven’t come back yet, and no one has seemed to see them,” Mistyfoot said, her sentences running together in her haste to explain. “It’s not like them to have just disappeared like this. Especially with Reedpaw…”

Mistyfoot nodded across camp to indicate the apprentice. He was alone near the apprentice’s den, gazing around camp as if at a loss for what to do as cats went about their business around him.

“Stormfur wouldn’t have just left him to fend for himself for the day,” Mistyfoot concluded.

Mothwing’s brow furrowed in echo of Mistyfoot’s worry.

“Do you think something happened to them?” she asked. “Could they have gotten into a scrap with WindClan?”

Mistyfoot shook her head helplessly, the fear in her expression growing.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But, it’s possible. Or they could’ve gone out for a hunt and were attacked by something— a fox or a dog?” Mistyfoot said, her blue eyes welling with anxiety now. “Or maybe it is WindClan… I don’t know.”

Mothwing’s heart twisted to see Mistyfoot, normally so cool and collected, this distraught. She seemed like she was on the verge of full-blown panic. Mothwing had only ever seen her like this once before— when her smallest kitten, Perchkit, had succumbed to a bout of greencough a few moons ago.

Mothwing draped her long-furred tail over Mistyfoot’s shoulders, giving a soothing purr in an attempt to calm her.

“There’s been no sign of any predators in our territory in the past few days. It’s perfectly possible that they just lost track of time,” Mothwing said reasonably. “Let’s go talk to Leopardstar and see what she thinks. I’m sure she’ll send out some patrols to look for them.”

Mistyfoot took a moment to inhale a deep breath to compose herself before nodding and lifting her chin.

“Yes. You’re right. We should speak to Leopardstar,” she muttered.

Mistyfoot turned and began to stride across camp. Mothwing padded along with Mistyfoot as they headed towards the leader’s den at the roots of the Ancient Willow. Mothwing knew that she didn’t really have to be present when Mistyfoot spoke with Leopardstar, but her old mentor kept glancing at her every couple of steps, so Mothwing figured that she should go with her for moral support, at the very least.

It’s my first time helping the deputy as a medicine cat, Mothwing thought, a small amount of pride warming her despite the concerning situation with Stormfur and Feathertail.

“Leopardstar?” Mistyfoot called from the entrance of the den. “May Mothwing and I speak with you?”

“Come in,” Leopardstar’s voice echoed out.

Mothwing glanced around curiously as she followed Mistyfoot into the cave formed by the roots of the Ancient Willow. She’d never been inside the leader’s den before, but nothing there was too unexpected. The den was spartanly decorated in a way that reflected Leopardstar’s personality. Only a few large, shiny fish scales decorated the root-woven walls here and there, adding punctuations of interest to the otherwise uniform tangle of wood. But, overall really, the den was quite boring, especially in comparison to the medicine cats’ den.

Leopardstar sat up in her nest, and next to the edge of it, Mothwing caught a glance of the only other objects of note— five stones carefully arranged in a row. Mothwing peered at these ones more closely, interest prickling at her.

Although stones were often used in RiverClan as simple decorations or trinkets, some were given specific reverence as totems to lost loved ones. While some cats went out to look for these stones deliberately, others said that one could not find them alone— the ancestors had to guide you to them. Sometimes when Mothwing turned her jet-black stone around in her paws in her nest, she wondered if she didn’t already have a totem herself— if the reason she had decided to keep this one out of all the others she’d found was because it was the same color as Tadpole’s pelt. 

Anyway though, given the scarcity of Leopardstar’s other decorations, these stones must be just that. One of the stones was easy for Mothwing to identify. She’d heard enough about Crookedstar’s appearance and his distinctive broken jaw to know that the light brown one with the odd, jagged edges must be him. But, Mothwing had no clue who the white stone with sandy patches was supposed to be, or the dark stone with a faint smattering of white, or the two grey stones— one pale, and the other darker with a bluish tint like Mistyfoot’s fur.

“What is it?” Leopardstar asked, curling her tail around her paws and pulling Mothwing from her unrelated musing.

“I’m worried about Feathertail and Stormfur,” Mistyfoot said, her tail flicking anxiously. “They weren’t in their nests when I woke up this morning, and they’ve been missing all day.”

“No cat seems to have seen them,” Mothwing added. “Mudfur and I were gathering herbs early this morning, but we didn’t run across them then either.”

Leopardstar’s features creased in a frown.

“That is odd. Have you been able to pick up any scent trails?”

Mistyfoot shook her head.

“I’ve been doing my best to look for them, but I’m just one cat,” she said. “I’m worried something bad has happened to them. Stormfur had just chased off that dog the other day— what if it came back?”

Leopardstar nodded.

“Go gather some cats to send out search patrols, and report back to me what you find,” she ordered.

“Thank you Leopardstar,” Mistyfoot said with a sigh of relief, dipping her head.

She swiftly turned and made her way out of the den, already calling out to some nearby warriors to join her on the patrol. Mothwing started to follow her, but before she could exit the den, Leopardstar called her back.

“Mothwing? Can I speak to you for a moment longer?”

Mothwing turned back, blinking curiously at her leader. 

“Of course, Leopardstar.”

“I know you and Mistyfoot are close,” Leopardstar continued, her golden brow still furrowed. “Can you do me a favor and keep an eye on her?”

Mothwing’s ears twisted back in confusion.

“You mean like… go on the search patrols with her?” she asked.

Leopardstar shook her head. “No. Just… make sure she’s okay. As I’m sure you’re aware, Feathertail and Stormfur mean a lot to Mistyfoot. It will crush her if they are truly gone.”

A deeper concern than before stirred in Mothwing’s belly. Did Leopardstar really believe that Feathertail and Stormfur could have been killed or taken somehow? Mothwing may not be the closest cat to them, but, still, she didn’t wish any sort of harm on the siblings.

“So you think that they might actually be… dead?” Mothwing whispered.

Leopardstar’s amber eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Well, I mean, there’s always a chance that something terrible happened— the forest is a dangerous place after all. But, Feathertail and Stormfur are a resourceful pair... No, what I mean is that they might have just left.”

Mothwing’s confusion deepened.

“Left RiverClan?” she asked.

“Yes. Their father, Greystripe,” Leopardstar’s lips curled up in a snarl as she said the ThunderClan deputy’s name, “is in ThunderClan, of course. I think there’s a good chance that, if Stormfur and Feathertail are really gone, then they went to join him. In which case, Mistyfoot will be devastated, I’m sure.”

Mothwing blinked.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say.

Leopardstar nodded. “Yes. So keep an eye on Mistyfoot. Make sure she doesn’t do anything… rash... in her distress.”

“Okay, Leopardstar,” Mothwing murmured.

Leopardstar waved her tail in dismissal, and Mothwing finally turned and left the den, her thoughts whirling.

Could Feathertail and Stormfur really have left RiverClan?

The day wore on, and no trace of the missing siblings was unearthed. However, there was also no trace of any predators, or signs of struggle like blood trails. Mothwing did as Leopardstar had asked of her and kept an eye on Mistyfoot as best she could as she also went about her medicine cat duties, watching the deputy grow increasingly desperate and distraught as more and more time trickled past, and Feathertail and Stormfur still didn’t turn up. 

At sunset, once all the patrols had returned after a day of fruitless searching, Leopardstar decided it was time to officially tell the Clan. She called a meeting and everyone gathered around the willow.

“Stormfur and Feathertail appear to be missing,” Leopardstar announced, her loud voice echoing down from the branch in the Ancient Willow. “They haven’t been seen all day, and the territory has been searched without any sign of them.”

Mothwing glanced over at Mistyfoot and saw the deputy bow her head, deep worry swimming in her blue eyes.

“Since there’s no indication that they were attacked or otherwise forcibly removed from RiverClan land,” Leopardstar continued, “I can only speculate that they chose to depart on their own accord, most likely heading to ThunderClan to be with their father.”

A wave of varied reactions swept through all of RiverClan— Blackclaw hissed in anger. Mosspelt meowed in surprise, her ears flattening. And, the worry in Mistyfoot’s eyes was washed away by a flood of outrage and shock.

“What?!” Mistyfoot cut in, leaping to her paws, her tail lashing. “Feathertail and Stormfur are loyal RiverClan warriors through and through! They wouldn’t just leave with no warning. If they’re really missing, then something terrible must have happened to them! We need to find them!”

Leopardstar sighed through her nose, her eyes closing for a moment.

“We’ve sent out patrols that have searched for them all day. We’ve done the best we could, Mistyfoot,” she said, opening her eyes again and shooting her deputy a sharp look. “In fact, their trail seems so conspicuously absent that we should consider that maybe Feathertail and Stormfur don’t want us to track them down.”

“You haven’t done everything,” Mistyfoot accused, her fur fluffing out. “If you’re so convinced that they’ve joined ThunderClan, then we could send a patrol to their camp to ask them—”

“If they’ve joined ThunderClan, I will not be sending a patrol after traitors to beg them to return,” Leopardstar snarled, her claws unsheathing to dig into the soft bark of the willow branch. 

“You’re the one who brought up the idea of them being in ThunderClan, but you refuse to do anything about it?!” Mistyfoot asked, the pitch of her voice rising with her incredulousness. “The only way to rule out the possibility of them being there is to ask! If we find out they’re not there, then we know to keep looking elsewhere!”

“I will not send a patrol to ThunderClan,” Leopardstar reiterated with a stubborn growl. “You can ask a ThunderClan cat about it at the next Gathering.”

“That’s more than a quarter moon away!” Mistyfoot protested. “In the meantime, Feathertail and Stormfur could be out there, seriously injured!”

“What more do you want from me, Mistyfoot?!” Leopardstar snapped, her shoulder fur bristling as the last of her patience evaporated. “We looked for them, and they’re not on our territory! I can’t just make my warriors appear at the wave of my tail!”

Mistyfoot didn’t argue more, but her claws kneaded furiously in the sandy ground beneath her and her jaw was clearly clenched against harsh words that she seemed to be barely keeping down. Leopardstar took a deep breath and sheathed her claws again, calming as she swept her gaze over the Clan.

“But, with Stormfur and Feathertail gone,” Leopardstar continued. “There is another important matter to deal with. Reedpaw is without a mentor. Even if Stormfur and Feathertail are not in ThunderClan, but were somehow taken against their will by twolegs or something else,” Leopardstar glanced down at Mistyfoot from out of the corner of her eyes, “Reedpaw’s training should not suffer while we wait for them to find their way back. So, Reedpaw will be given a new mentor. Hawkfrost—”

From across the crowd, Mothwing saw Hawkfrost suddenly sit up much straighter, surprise and delight flashing in his bright blue eyes. Leopardstar beckoned him forward with a wave of her tail before doing the same to Reedpaw.

“Hawkfrost,” Leopardstar resumed, her amber eyes softening slightly as she gazed down at him. “You’ve been trained well by me, and, although you are young, you’ve already proven yourself to be a strong and loyal warrior for RiverClan. You will be Reedpaw’s mentor, and I expect you to pass down all you know to him.”

Hawkfrost nodded solemnly, dipping his head and touching his nose to Reedpaw.

“You honor me, Leopardstar,” Hawkfrost said when he lifted his head back up, making Leopardstar’s ears prick in surprise at the atypical interjection. “I will do my best to make you and RiverClan proud through training him.”

Leopardstar nodded, a pleased expression in her eyes.

“I’d expect nothing less,” she purred. “Meeting dismissed.”

Mothwing rose to her paws and began walking over to her brother, but she found herself having to wait for her turn to congratulate him, behind the several other cats like Vixenleap, Shadepelt, and Dawnflower. Stars, even Blackclaw was padding over to Hawkfrost. 

Mothwing knew her brother was popular, but it was still strange to see Blackclaw, who’d been one of the biggest proponents against them joining the Clan and who still didn’t approve of Mothwing being a medicine cat, now chatting so casually with Hawkfrost. Once he’d finished, Leopardstar then hopped down from the tree to speak an additional few words to Hawkfrost before heading off herself. Mistyfoot, though, didn’t go to see him or her son at all. Instead, she whirled around and stalked away from the crowd before slipping out of camp, presumably to go looking for Feathertail and Stormfur again. Hawkfrost dismissed Reedpaw from him for a moment, muttering something in his ear. Reedpaw nodded and walked off, his tail drooping. Mothwing’s heart twinged with pity as she glanced after the apprentice. She knew Hawkfrost would be a good mentor to him, but Reedpaw was clearly mourning the loss of his old one.

“Congrats on the apprentice,” Mothwing said once she finally reached Hawkfrost. “Although, it’s unfortunate it isn’t under better circumstances.”

“Thank you,” Hawkfrost said with a flick of his ears, although he was looking after where Mistyfoot disappeared in the reeds rather than at her.

Mothwing hesitated a moment.

“I’m sure her reaction isn’t personal,” she said hesitantly. “Mistyfoot’s just worried about Feathertail and Stormfur.”

Hawkfrost scoffed, rolling his eyes and glancing over at Mothwing.

“Mistyfoot’s being ridiculous,” he said. “Her reaction to this is more like a frantic queen than a deputy.”

Mothwing’s ears flattened.

“But, she is almost like their mother,” she said in a quiet voice. “And ever since Perchkit died… I think she’s been more protective of them and her kits.”

“But, she’s Reedpaw’s real mother, and she didn’t even congratulate him! Besides that though, she’s also RiverClan’s deputy,” Hawkfrost growled, locking his intent blue eyes on hers. “And, she’s doing a pretty awful job at that. The deputy’s role is to support their leader, right?”

Mothwing’s ears twitched uneasily.

“Among other things,” she muttered.

“Leopardstar has done all that can be done to find Stormfur and Feathertail, and yet Mistyfoot still challenges her,” Hawkfrost pointed out.

“I don’t know…” Mothwing shrugged. “I think Mistyfoot does kinda have a point. You have to admit that it is weird that Stormfur and Feathertail just disappeared. Feathertail maybe I could understand. She’s always been a loner in RiverClan. But Stormfur? Everyone likes him— he’s one of the most popular cats in the Clan, and he loves it here.”

“He loves Feathertail more,” Hawkfrost said confidently. “I bet she finally had enough with the lot of us, and he couldn’t bear to part with her.”

“But without telling Mistyfoot?” Mothwing insisted.

Hawkfrost gave an annoyed growl, shaking out his fur.

“I’m not pretending that I totally know what’s going on in Feathertail and Stormfur’s minnow-brains,” Hawkfrost snapped. “I’m just giving you my perspective. And, good riddance, I say.”

“Don’t say that in front of Reedpaw,” Mothwing warned, her brow furrowing. “He really looked up to Stormfur. And, Feathertail too, I guess. They spent so much time with Reedpaw and his littermates when they were kits, they’re almost kin too.”

Hawkfrost snorted derisively.

“As if he still admires them now that they’ve abandoned him,” he scoffed. “Don’t worry about Reedpaw, sis. I’ll be a hundred times the mentor Stormfur was.”

Hawkfrost glanced away, his eyes seeking out his new apprentice.

“Speaking of which, I think Reedpaw and I should start to get acquainted with each other. I’ll see you later, Moth,” Hawkfrost said, padding towards Reedpaw.

Mothwing gave Hawkfrost an absentminded mutter of goodbye, her thoughts still on Mistyfoot, Stormfur, and Feathertail as she made her way back to Mudfur at their den. As she took up position next to her mentor, ready for whatever next task he gave her, Mudfur shot her a perceptive glance from the corners of his amber eyes.

“Everything alright?” he asked. “Are you concerned about Stormfur and Feathertail?”

“A bit. Although I wasn’t ever very close to them,” Mothwing admitted, her ears twisting back. “I’m more worried about Mistyfoot.”

“She is going through a difficult time and will need your support,” Mudfur said with a sage nod.

“I know, and I’ll try to be there for her,” Mothwing said. “Leopardstar even asked me to… But, I guess I’m also kind of worried about Mistyfoot’s relationship with Leopardstar. Hawkfrost thinks she’s being a poor deputy by not being supportive of Leopardstar’s decisions… Do you agree?”

As soon as Mothwing asked the question, she realized that she wasn’t sure if she’d get an unbiased answer. After all, Mudfur was Leopardstar’s father. Although medicine cats are forbidden to take mates or have kits, Leopardstar had been born back before he’d chosen to become a medicine cat; like Mothwing, Mudfur had been a warrior first.

But, to Mothwing’s surprise, Mudfur started to shake his head.

“It’s not my place to agree or disagree,” he meowed. “Leave the Clan politics to the leaders, deputies, and warriors. Our role as medicine cats is to heal and connect our Clan to StarClan. Whether someone is a good deputy or a bad one has nothing to do with that.”

Mothwing shifted her weight from paw to paw uncertainly. Was that really true? Couldn’t it actually all be connected? Bad decisions by the Clan’s leadership could lead to unnecessary battles, which could put the health of the warriors or the entire Clan at risk. In that case, should the medicine cats really stand aside and do nothing?

“Alright,” she murmured.

“We have more important matters to attend to than that,” Mudfur continued, glancing over at the herb storage. “Now, Loudbelly told me that he was feeling a bit ill. Why don’t you show me the typical herb-mix we make for him?”

Mothwing nodded, obediently following him over, but even as she began to point out the leaves, roots, and berries, her mentor testing her on their names and purposes, Mothwing’s thoughts remained on Mistyfoot, Hawkfrost, and Leopardstar.

Chapter Text

At sunset, the group departed from Ravenpaw and Barley’s barn as they’d agreed on. This time, instead of being at the far head of the patrol, Crowpaw dropped to the back, his tail dragging in the dirt behind him. Despite the food and sleep he’d been able to get at the barn, every part of Crowpaw’s body slumped with exhaustion, although he suspected it may be more mental than physical. Meanwhile, everyone else cheerfully chatted with each other and with Ravenpaw as the loner navigated them around the areas which he said contained the most twolegs and dogs. The group then crossed a thunderpath without issue and began scaling the rocky slopes of Highstones. Crowpaw’s gaze tracked over to the right as he noticed that they were traveling away from the area that contained Mothermouth, and the Moonstone inside.

“The first part of your journey past Highstones shouldn’t be so bad,” Ravenpaw was meowing. “Barley and I have explored around a bit, and it’s mostly just farmlands ahead, although I’m sure many more hazards will lie between that and the sundrown-place. Oh, just be careful around the first farm you pass. A few kittypets live around there. They don’t take kindly to trespassers and can fight quite well. They gave me a few scars once when I accidentally stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. There’s no good way around that farm though, so you’ll have to risk it.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Brambleclaw said, giving a solemn nod.

Crowpaw snorted to himself.

There’s six of us, five of which are fully trained! How hard can fighting a couple of kittypets be?

Ravenpaw continued to chat with the others, giving trivial warnings about thunderpaths they’d encounter and twoleg nests they’d pass. Crowpaw rolled his eyes at Ravenpaw’s abundance of caution, tuning him out as the group climbed higher and higher. 

As they walked, Crowpaw caught himself periodically casting glances over at Feathertail. She was still ignoring him and sticking close to her brother’s side, but participating in the conversation with Ravenpaw every so often. She seemed friendly with the loner.

She used to be friendly with you too, before you ruined it. A vicious little voice hissed in the back of Crowpaw’s head.

Crowpaw gave his ears a swift shake, shoving back against the thought.

I didn’t come here to make friends! I don’t want or need to be friends with this group of weirdos! What I need to do is obey Deadfoot’s orders and save my Clan!

Crowpaw clenched his jaw determinedly. 

Yes, that was it. He wasn’t sulking around, waiting for attention like a fledgling that had been kicked out of its nest. Who cared what Feathertail or any other cat here thought of him? He couldn’t lose focus on the true importance of this mission— saving WindClan.

Crowpaw pushed all other thoughts away and focused on climbing.

By the time they reached the summit of Highstones, Crowpaw’s paw-pads were aching from walking on the sharp stones and strong gusts of wind slammed against his sides, leaving him unsteady on his feet. The group stood together at the crest, gazing at the unfamiliar territory that stretched out in front of them. The territory nearest to them was yellow and green patched farmland as Ravenpaw had said, but right now it was also cut through with deep shadows as the sun dipped lower towards the horizon directly ahead. 

Crowpaw glanced to the side, following the spine of the hills that extended from Highstones. They grew in size until they were mountains. Crowpaw could make out white peaks despite the heat of greenleaf, but thankfully, they were a bit off-course from the setting sun, and so they would not have to climb over them.

“You’ll avoid that tangle of thunderpaths,” Ravenpaw was meowing, pointing with his tail towards a thick grey smudge in the landscape and drawing Crowpaw’s attention away from the mountains. “Just as well. That’s the place where WindClan took refuge when Brokenstar drove them out. It’s full of rats and carrion.”

Crowpaw shuddered involuntarily. He wasn’t old enough to have lived through Brokenstar, but the stories about him scarred WindClan deeply still. WindClan’s time in exile was probably the darkest days the Clan had ever experienced, and it was the reason that Crowpaw had no living older siblings— all of his parents’ first litter had died as kits, either during the battle that drove WindClan out or succumbed to starvation during their banishment. 

Crowpaw pulled himself from the dark thoughts as Ravenpaw now gestured instead down towards a piece of farmland that was nearest to them.

“That’s the place where you have to worry about the kittypets,” he said, his brow furrowing. “Be sure to look out for them.”

“We will,” Brambleclaw rumbled, turning to the loner and dipping his head. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been a massive help.”

Ravenpaw dipped his head back in response. “Think nothing of it. Good luck, all of you, and may StarClan light your path.”

The rest of the group meowed goodbyes to Ravenpaw, but Crowpaw pushed on ahead, muttering curses beneath his breath as the sharp pebbles dug in between his toes as he led the group on their descent. 

“Do you think there’s really no forest ahead at all?” Squirrelpaw chirped as she scrambled down the rocks. “I can barely see any trees! But, it’ll be so weird to not have any woods around.”

“Cats don’t need trees to survive,” Crowpaw grumbled, but he didn’t bother to look back at her as he spoke.

“Of course you’d say that,” Squirrelpaw retorted, her voice sharp. “You probably feel right at home in the farm fields.”

“My home is on the moor in WindClan territory,” Crowpaw hissed, now shooting her a poisonous look from over his shoulder. “Which I would like to get back to as soon as possible. So less talking and more walking. Thank you.”

“Aw so someone did teach you some manners,” Squirrelpaw said, her tone saccharine-sweet as her bushy red tail flicked mockingly.

Crowpaw’s claws flexed in anger, scraping against the hard stone.

“I wish I could say the same of you,” he snapped.

Squirrelpaw growled, her green eyes smoldering.

“Enough guys. Can we try not to claw each other up for fun? Like for more than five heartbeats?” Tawnypelt sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Tawnypelt’s right,” Stormfur rumbled, speaking up for the first time in a while. “If we want to survive this journey, we need to work together and help the group.”

Brambleclaw nodded in agreement.

Crowpaw’s pelt bristled out, a rush of defensiveness filling him as the warriors ganged up against him. He turned his anger onto Stormfur, glaring at the dark grey tom.

“At least I’ve been useful,” Crowpaw snapped. “You all would be bumbling around at the least opportune parts of the day if it weren’t for me. Utterly inefficient! I saved us StarClan knows how much time with that idea. But, you? You’ve barely said two words to anyone besides your sister since you got here. Are you really ‘helping the group’ there? Or are you just letting everyone else do the work for you?”

Stormfur’s brow furrowed, but it was Feathertail who stepped forward, a surprising fierceness alight in her bright blue eyes.

“You wanna talk about efficiency? Do you seriously think it would be more efficient if we were all bossing each other around? Isn’t there enough conflict as is?” she snapped. “Being easy going and keeping the peace can be just as important as coming up with good ideas. And, you know Crowpaw, even though you’ve had good ideas, sometimes how you say something is just as important as what you say.”

With that Feathertail whirled on her heel and stalked away, continuing down the slope and leaving the rest of the group staring after her in surprise at her outburst.

As Stormfur hurried to catch up with his sister, Squirrelpaw turned to look at Crowpaw, her eyes squinting with suspicion.

“What exactly did you do to Feathertail?” she demanded.

Crowpaw’s ears flattened in a mixture of shame and anger.

“Nothing,” he growled. “And, I don’t know why she targeted that all at me. You’re just as mean as I am.”

“I’m only mean towards cats that deserve it,” Squirrelpaw said matter-of-factly, shooting Crowpaw a look from the corners of her eyes. “Not to Feathertail.”

Crowpaw gave a low growl, but Brambleclaw stepped his hulky, tabby bulk between Crowpaw and Squirrelpaw before another argument could break out.

“Come on,” he rumbled. “We shouldn’t let Feathertail and Stormfur get too far ahead.”

Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, and Tawnypelt resumed their trek down the stony slope, leaving Crowpaw to slowly pick his way down behind them.

They managed to reach the bottom of Highstones and the edge of the first farm without too many more spats, which probably had something to do with the fact that Crowpaw had removed himself from the rest of the group and ended up trailing several fox-lengths behind everyone else.

As they entered into a field of tall, golden grass that stretched several tail-lengths above any of their heads, Brambleclaw lifted his muzzle to the breeze, tasting the air warily. Crowpaw took a sniff as well, and the faint scents of several stranger cats rushed into his nostrils.

“Okay, this is the area that Ravenpaw warned us about with the vicious kittypets, so everyone stay alert,” Brambleclaw muttered in a low voice.

Crowpaw rolled his eyes, annoyance running up and down his spine that the ThunderClan warrior was taking Ravenpaw’s neuroses so seriously.

“As if we can’t handle a few kittypets,” Crowpaw scoffed. “Ravenpaw is much too cautious. I’d guess that loner is even afraid of his own shadow.”

“Ravenpaw is a hero!” Squirrelpaw snapped, whirling to glare back at Crowpaw with bristling shoulder fur as she came to the loner’s defense. “He and Barley fought with us in the battle against BloodClan!”

“And, he helped Firestar and Greystripe rescue me, Stormfur, and Mistyfoot from TigerClan,” Feathertail added in a low voice, drawing Crowpaw’s gaze to her. “If it weren’t for them, my brother and I would be dead.”

Stormfur nodded in agreement, and Crowpaw’s ears flattened as he met Feathertail’s cool blue gaze. 

Great… As if she wasn’t already mad enough at me before.

“Whatever,” Crowpaw grumbled, looking away from her. “All I meant was, there’s six of us and there was only one of Ravenpaw when he encountered the kittypets. Or two of them, if it was Ravenpaw and Barley. I think we can take care of chasing off a couple of kittypets.”

“Still, it doesn’t hurt to be careful,” Brambleclaw lectured in that I-know-better-than-you tone he liked to use.

Crowpaw’s fur bristled out in offense, but Squirrelpaw spoke before he could say anything.

“We get it Brambleclaw,” Squirrelpaw snapped, rolling her eyes. “We heard you the first time, and we were all there when Ravenpaw told us the warning.”

Brambleclaw blinked in surprise. “I was just—”

“Being a condescending mouse-brain?” Squirrelpaw supplied, blinking at Brambleclaw with wide, green eyes in a look of exaggerated innocence.

Brambleclaw grumbled his irritation under his breath, and Crowpaw glanced over at Squirrelpaw from the corners of his eyes, slightly pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t the only one bothered by Brambleclaw’s patronizing.

“Well then, if everyone here already knows everything, I’ll just be quiet,” Brambleclaw muttered in an audible voice this time.

“Excellent,” Tawnypelt drawled, rolling her eyes. “Because the first rule of getting through a place undetected is to be quiet. This is a key concept taught in ShadowClan, but judging by the amount of talking happening here, it seems like this idea is quite absent in the rest of you all’s education.”

“Yes, because ShadowClan is so sneaky that Tawnypelt could slip past a place crawling with vicious kittypets,” Brambleclaw said sarcastically, and Crowpaw was again surprised by his companions, although this time it was because of the petulance in the normally serious tom’s voice. 

But, Tawnypelt was Brambleclaw’s sister, and although Crowpaw had no personal experience with one of those, he still figured that if anyone could bring out a child-like irritation, it would be a littermate.

Tawnypelt perked up suddenly.

“Want to wager on it?” she asked, her eyes flashing with the challenge. “I’ll head off on my own, get to the other side of this farm, and neither you or the kittypets will see a single hair from me.”

“No,” Brambleclaw said, quickly reverting back to his typical serious nature. “We should stick together. Especially if we’re going to run into trouble.”

“Really? I kinda want to see her do it!” Squirrelpaw said, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she rocked up and down on her toes eagerly.

Feathertail and Stormfur exchanged a concerned look.

“No,” Brambleclaw repeated sternly.

“Okay, I’ll do it. Bye!” Tawnypelt said, slipping off into the tall grasses with a mischievous flick of her mottled-colored tail.

“No! Tawnypelt,” Brambleclaw called into the grasses around them, gazing after the place where she disappeared, but not a single stalk stirred. “Tawnypelt?” 

Silence met his call. Brambleclaw groaned, his eyes closing in frustration. Squirrelpaw stared at him, her outright glee at Tawnypelt ruffling Brambleclaw’s fur fading as the moments stretched on and Brambleclaw’s eyes stayed shut.

“...Tawnypelt’s a strong warrior, I’m sure she can make it across the farm alright by herself,” Squirrelpaw said hesitantly.

“I’m just trying to be sensible. Why does no one here listen to me?” Brambleclaw muttered from between clenched fangs. 

“Well you’re not our leader,” Crowpaw pointed out sharply.

Brambleclaw’s eyes snapped open, and he shot Crowpaw a withering glare.

“Yes Crowpaw,” he growled. “I am well aware.”

“We’ll be careful and continue across,” Stormfur spoke up. “And, meet Tawnypelt on the other side. If she’s not there… then we deal with that if it happens.”

“See! You’re not the only sensible one, Brambleclaw,” Squirrelpaw chirped brightly.

Brambleclaw sighed deeply as if he was expelling air from all the way down in his toes.

“Alright. Let’s keep going,” he muttered. “But, let’s all try to stay quiet. Tawnypelt was right about that much, at least— we haven’t been that discreet.”

Crowpaw rolled his eyes again.

Brambleclaw is almost as bad as Ravenpaw with his fretting!

The group, short one Tawnypelt, continued onward across the farm through the tall grass. Besides the occasional whiff of kittypet scent, their trek was uninterrupted.

The tall grasses had cleared somewhat when they suddenly came across a slumbering monster in the field. Crowpaw’s shoulder fur bristled in fear as he caught sight of it, and judging by the uneasy glances shared by the others in the group, they were just as unsettled. The beast was a dull red color, like dried blood, and at least twice the size of a typical monster, with round black paws more massive than Crowpaw had ever seen on a monster before, and an odd spiny tail.

They crouched at the edge of the tall grass, assessing the monster from a distance.

“What’s it doing so far from a thunderpath?” Stormfur asked. 

“Yeah, they’re supposed to stay there! It’s not fair!” Squirrelpaw added in a loud whisper, her eyes narrowing unhappily.

“I don’t know,” Brambleclaw muttered, the deep timbre of his wavering slightly and betraying his nervousness. “But, it looks like it’s sleeping. I can’t smell twolegs either.”

“Although it’s hard to smell anything right now,” Squirrelpaw complained, her nose wrinkling up. “What is that scent?”

“Sheep, I think,” Crowpaw muttered, the pungent odor somewhat familiar. “They must have passed by here recently.”

“What’s a ‘sheep?’” Stormfur asked, his brow furrowed.

“They’re animals twolegs like to keep. Bigger than a dog, but stupid like a squirrel. I’ve seen them on the moors occasionally. They look like small clouds with legs,” Crowpaw explained in a curt mutter, his eyes still on the monster ahead.

Everyone else went dead silent, and when Crowpaw glanced back over at them, he found them staring at him incredulously.

“Clouds with legs?” Squirrelpaw echoed. “He’s got to be messing with us, right?”

Crowpaw’s pelt spiked defensively.

“Fine. Whatever. Don’t believe me,” he snapped.

Brambleclaw spoke hurriedly before Squirrelpaw could think of responding.

“It doesn’t matter what a sheep looks like,” he said. “We’ll just be careful anyway. Come on.”

Brambleclaw flicked his tail to signal for them to follow, and he crept out into the open, giving the monster a wide berth. Although Crowpaw’s teeth ground together in annoyance at Brambleclaw bossing him around, he also had no desire to remain so close to the beast, so he followed with the rest of them. Squirrelpaw dropped back to his side, her tail flicking irritably.

“Okay Crowpaw, enough joking around. Tell us what a sheep really is. A cloud? Animals don’t look like clouds,” Squirrelpaw hissed in a half-hushed voice.

“Well sheep do!” Crowpaw retorted in an angry whisper, shooting her a glare. “Besides, how can you say you know what something can and can’t look like, if you’ve never seen one?”

“Because I’m not a mouse-brain! I know what animals look like!” Squirrelpaw snapped.

Crowpaw lashed his tail in exasperation but resisted the urge to respond and continue the pointless argument.

I’m not going to waste my breath!

Squirrelpaw seemingly had other ideas. She opened her mouth to say something else, but at that instant a sudden loud yowl, which certainly hadn’t come from her, echoed across the field.

“And, where do you think y’all are going?” 

Crowpaw’s pelt was already bristling as he whirled towards the deep voice. A large white tom with a few tabby splotches on his sides was now perched right on the top of the monster’s muzzle. Although Ravenpaw had warned them about ‘kittypets,’ this cat hardly looked like a pampered twoleg’s pet. He was well-muscled and scarred, and he stared down at Crowpaw and the rest of the group with narrowed eyes that were the same color as the wheat around them.

“None of your business!” Crowpaw spat.

“We’re just passing through,” Brambleclaw said at the exact same moment.

The tom locked his disdainful yellow eyes on Crowpaw.

“I reckon it is my business, scrawny one. Seein’ that you are on my territory,” the tom hissed, his lip curling back to show his fangs.

Crowpaw spat furiously, but Brambleclaw took a step forward before he could say anything else.

“We aren’t looking for any trouble,” Brambleclaw said swiftly, pulling the tom’s attention to him. “We are travelers, and we just need to get to the other side of the farm. We promise not to take any of your prey.”

Brambleclaw dipped his head slightly to the tom. “If it would make you more comfortable, you are more than welcome to escort us to the other side.”

The tom was silent for a moment as if considering Brambleclaw’s proposal, but Crowpaw’s blood roiled with outrage. 

“You’re seriously going to let this brute boss us around?!” Crowpaw snarled incredulously.

“Crowpaw! Shut up!” Squirrelpaw snapped, shooting him a sharp look.

“No. Let the pup yap,” the tom sneered, nimbly springing down from the monster’s muzzle and landing on the ground in front of it.

The tom began to stalk up to Crowpaw. Crowpaw lifted his chin, meeting the tom’s cool gaze, but out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed his companions shifting uneasily. The stranger’s yellow eyes bore into Crowpaw’s blue ones.

“Your friend says you come in peace, but it sounds to me, you’ve got a different idea,” the tom said in an ominously soft voice. “Lookin’ for a fight, kid? Because if so, I could be convinced.”

“Crowpaw,” Feathertail warned.

Crowpaw blocked her voice out. 

The misery and frustration of the past couple of days bubbled up in him, just beneath the surface, and all he could think about was how nice it would feel to release some of that pent up anger by raking his claws through this rabbit-brain’s pelt.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, kittypet,” Crowpaw hissed to the tom, his tail whipping back and forth. “You’ve never faced down warriors before.”

The tom rumbled a low, satisfied growl.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

Crowpaw dug his claws into the ground. Even without Tawnypelt, it was five on one— they would shred him.

But, then the tom threw back his head and let out a sharp yowl. Suddenly, the shadows beneath and around the monster were swarming, and seven other cats came stalking out into the setting sun’s dying light, their pelts bushed out and their tails lashing. Like the first tom, they hardly looked like pampered kittypets— their muscles were corded and their ears nicked.

Crowpaw’s fur stood even more on end, although this time, the bristling was admittedly driven a bit more by fear than anger.

The numbers were now five on eight, and the odds were looking a lot better for the kittypets.

“Holy fox-dung!” Squirrelpaw swore loudly, staring at the approaching line of cats. “Crowpaw, you—“

Whatever colorful insult she was surely about to hurl at him was cut off when Squirrelpaw was tackled by a wiry calico, and the evening exploded into a fight.

The first tom lunged right for Crowpaw, and Crowpaw jerked back just in time when his jaws snapped shut less than a whisker length from his neck.

Using his speed, Crowpaw dodged nimbly, springing and dashing and landing shallow hits when he could. He and the tom exchanged a few blows, Crowpaw spitting when the kittypet’s claws hooked in deep enough into his side to make him bleed once. But he was successful in avoiding the worst of the attacks, and his sense of smug satisfaction only grew at the look of increasing frustration on the tom’s face.

“Too fast for you, huh?” Crowpaw taunted.

The tom lunged, and Crowpaw again danced back… and right into someone’s fluffy side.

“Ow!” Squirrelpaw’s voice cried out as she stumbled from the hit.

Crowpaw wrenched his head around towards her to be greeted by a cuff around his ears.

“Watch it, you stupid furball!” Squirrelpaw hissed, her green eyes furious.

“You watch it!” Crowpaw spat back, flattening his stinging ears. “You’re not supposed to be attacking me!”

“You—“ Squirrelpaw began, but Crowpaw again didn’t get to hear what she was going to say because he was suddenly slammed to the earth and rolled away from her.

His head ringing dizzily, Crowpaw blinked up to see the tom glaring down at him, vicious satisfaction in his yellow eyes.

“Got you,” he hissed.

Crowpaw yowled as sharp fangs sunk into his scuff, and suddenly, he was flying through the air as the tom tossed him. He slammed to the ground a moment later, the impact knocking the air out of him and creating an array of fresh bruises on his side.

Groaning, Crowpaw stumbled back to his paws. He shook his ears, trying to clear his still-fuzzy head as he assessed the fight.

Three of the kittypets had decided to gang up on Brambleclaw. Although the ThunderClan warrior was a massive cat and an excellent fighter, even he was struggling to hold off three attackers at once. Two of them sprung onto his back, clawing at his broad shoulders.

Should I help him?

Crowpaw hadn’t even gotten the chance to move when a blur of dark brown and gold shot out of the shadows and collided with the kittypets, pulling them off of Brambleclaw.

“Nice of you to stop by,” Brambleclaw grunted, shaking out his pelt.

“You looked like you could use some help,” Tawnypelt responded, dry amusement in her voice. 

The siblings fell into step, fighting side by side as naturally as Clanmates as they attacked the kittypets with a whirlwind of claws.

A hiss of pain yanked Crowpaw’s focus away from the pair. Feathertail was thrashing under the large tom who’d previously been attacking Crowpaw. He’d pinned her to the ground and was now raking his claws down her side. A surprising amount of fury growing in Crowpaw’s chest, he streaked forward, leaping on to the tom’s back.

“Get off her!” Crowpaw snarled, sinking his teeth into the cat’s ear and yanking.

Crowpaw’s tongue was flooded with the salty, iron tang of blood as the ear tore under his fangs. The tom yowled in pain, his grip on Feathertail loosening, and she dislodged him completely with a hard kick to the stomach, squirming out from under him.

Crowpaw sprung off the tom and backed up a few steps to Feathertail’s side as the cat shook his head, blood dripping to the earth from his ripped ear. The kittypets had put up a strong fight, and they and the clan cats both were beginning to look a bit battered.

Brambleclaw’s sharp eyes flashed over their group and the kittypets, the lull that had fallen over the fight not escaping him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Brambleclaw urged, hissing the words between his fangs.

Crowpaw growled, but despite his anger, he still had the sense to realize that continuing the fight was pointless. When the others in his patrol turned tail and ran, Crowpaw followed them, although his teeth ground together in frustration as he heard the kittypets yowling out triumphant caterwauls and insults from behind them.

“I think the edge of their territory is close,” Tawnypelt panted. “I saw it when I was scouting ahead. Follow me.”

She took the lead, weaving them through the fields, past a large twoleg den, and across a thunderpath made of dirt, finally slowing next to a large barn. This one was in much worse shape than Ravenpaw and Barley’s— one of the walls was crumbling, and there were holes in the roof. But, it was still warm and dry inside with tempting scents of mice.

“We should be safe here,” Tawnypelt reported, guiding the group into the barn. “There’s no trace of the kittypets on this side of the dirt thunderpath.”

As soon as they entered the structure and came to a stop, Squirrelpaw whirled on Crowpaw, her gaze glittering with a fierce irritation.

“Nice job siccing all those kittypets on us, Crowpaw. I loved getting my pelt shredded,” Squirrelpaw hissed, vicious sarcasm dripping from her words.

“Squirrelpaw is right,” Brambleclaw rumbled, shooting a glare at Crowpaw. “Provoking a fight was wholly unnecessary. We have a long journey ahead; it’s foolish to risk injury when we don’t know what awaits us.”

Crowpaw growled, anger pulsing through him.

“Have you considered that maybe the fight was actually your fault, Squirrelpaw?!” he spat, glaring at the apprentice. “Since you wouldn’t shut up about stupid sheep, you’re the one that tipped them off that we were there!”

“I was only arguing with you because I don’t like being lied to!” Squirrelpaw hissed, her tail whipping from side to side.

Crowpaw raked his claws across the dirt in exasperation.

“For the last time, I’m not lying!” he snarled. “Sheep really look like that!”

Feathertail stepped forward, lifting her tail for attention.

“Look. I don’t think this was completely anyone’s fault,” she said. “We weren’t exactly being that stealthy, so the strangers could have already known we were there long before Squirrelpaw started talking. And, we don’t know that Crowpaw was the reason they attacked.”

“What are you talking about?! It’s obvious that Crowpaw provoked them into it!” Squirrelpaw protested, shooting Feathertail a glare.

“But, did he really?” Feathertail asked.

Crowpaw’s ears pricked in surprise at the defense, some of his anger fading. Wasn’t Feathertail still upset with him?

“Yes,” Squirrelpaw insisted, but even she sounded a bit less sure.

“I didn’t want to fight, and I agree getting into one was a bad idea,” Feathertail continued with a whisk of her tail. “But, that tom was clearly itching for one. I mean, seriously, we know they attacked Ravenpaw— Ravenpaw— who’s the most friendly, agreeable cat I’ve ever met. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if they attacked us regardless of what anyone said.”

Stormfur twitched his ears thoughtfully.

“Feathertail has a point there,” he chimed in.

“Whatever. Whoever’s fault it is, let’s just get some rest,” Tawnypelt meowed, rolling her shoulders tiredly. “I’ve been all around this farm, scouting ahead and then running back to save your pelts, and I’m beat.”

“Me too,” Squirrelpaw declared, sighing. “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

As she padded out of the barn to search for some water, Brambleclaw sent a sideways glance at Tawnypelt.

“Don’t think you’re entirely blameless here either,” he muttered irritably. “It was reckless for you to run off on your own like that. What if you’d gotten attacked by the kittypets when we weren’t around? Seriously, Tawnypelt, I’d expected better from you than to rise to Squirrelpaw’s immature challenges.”

Tawnypelt gave a low, angry growl in response, her fur prickling.

“Brambleclaw, please do everyone here a favor,” she said. “And, stop being such a massive stick-in-the-mud.”

Brambleclaw’s amber eyes rounded in offense, but Tawnypelt stalked away from him before he could respond. Squirrelpaw returned, licking droplets off her lips and Tawnypelt padded past her.

“Where’s the water?” Tawnypelt asked curtly. 

Squirrelpaw gestured with her tail. “There’s a puddle around the edge of the barn. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Tawnypelt muttered, ducking out of the barn.

Brambleclaw glared after his sister, and Stormfur cleared his throat hesitantly.

“I think we’re all tired and hungry, but I bet we’ll feel better after some prey and rest,” he said. “Should we make camp here for the night?”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Brambleclaw grumbled.

“Are anyone’s scratches deep?” Squirrelpaw asked, glancing around at everyone’s pelts. “Leafpaw told me some herbs before we left. I can try to find some if we need them.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I think marigold leaves prevent infection.”

Crowpaw shook his head along with the rest of the group. He twisted his head to clean his cuts with a few swift licks. 

Although, truthfully, even if he was badly injured, he wasn’t sure if he’d actually let Squirrelpaw treat him.

She’d probably just try to poison me instead!

Squirrelpaw shrugged at the lack of takers. “Suit yourselves.”

Brambleclaw then slunk off to hunt, Squirrelpaw trailing after him. Stormfur also went sniffing from some mice in the dark corners of the barn, but before Crowpaw could pad off and do the same, his gaze met with Feathertail’s. Her blue eyes were still guarded, but not quite as distant as before.

“Thanks for saving my hide back there,” she said.

Crowpaw’s ears angled back awkwardly, waves of conflicting desires suddenly battering together in his chest. Part of him desperately wanted to respond now that she’d decided to speak to him again. But, the other part of him told him to keep his mouth shut, lest he say the wrong thing and dig himself a deeper hole.

“...Don’t mention it,” Crowpaw muttered finally.

Feathertail blinked at him, staring for a moment as if she was waiting for him to say more. When Crowpaw remained silent, she turned aside, heading for Stormfur to go hunt, and a surge of sudden impulsiveness washed through Crowpaw.

“The StarClan cat in my dream— Deadfoot” Crowpaw said to Feathertail’s silver-striped back, hoping dearly that she was listening because he didn’t think he’d have the courage to say it again. “He’s my father. I never met him. He died before I was born. But, he’s why this quest is important to me too. I don’t want to let him down either.”

Feathertail’s ears rotated towards Crowpaw, and slowly her eyes followed. Crowpaw’s belly squirmed like he’d eaten a flock of moths when their gazes met. Unable to maintain the connection, he bowed his head.

“I know I can be harsh, but that’s why I’m taking this so seriously,” he muttered. “It’s not just for me or WindClan. It’s for him too.” 

Crowpaw stared at the ground, hoping she understood that his words weren’t just an explanation, but also an apology for being rude to her earlier.

“...Then that sounds like something else we have in common,” Feathertail said finally.

Crowpaw almost started to purr in relief that she was willing to keep talking to him, but he swallowed it down. He did glance back up at her though, meeting her eyes and arching one of his brows.

“What else do we have in common?” he challenged, but he kept his tone light-hearted. “I mean, no offense, but I’m pretty sure you and I are about as different as two cats can be.”

Feathertail started to purr softly, her blue gaze thawing as friendliness returned.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said simply. “For one easy example, I also have WindClan blood.”

Crowpaw’s ears jutted up in surprise.

“What, really?” he asked. “I mean, I knew your father’s ThunderClan…”

Feathertail shook her head.

“Not on Greystripe’s side. My mother’s mother was half-WindClan,” she said.

“Wow…” Crowpaw muttered, glancing over Feathertail, but he could detect no part of WindClan’s stereotypical lankiness in her figure. “I would have never guessed.”

“Apparently it was quite the big deal at the time,” Feathertail continued with a shrug. “WindClan and RiverClan almost went to war over which Clan got to raise my grandmother and her sister.”

“Do you ever wonder how things could have been different if they had ended up in WindClan?” Crowpaw murmured, hesitantly glancing over at her.

But Feathertail wasn’t looking at him. Rather, she was gazing out into the middle-distance as if seeing something Crowpaw couldn’t.

“I more so think about how things could have been different if Stormfur and I had ended up in ThunderClan,” Feathertail said in a low voice.

She gave her pelt a brisk shake like she was snapping herself from a dream.

“But, that prey is eaten. We’re RiverClan through and through now,” she concluded.

One of Crowpaw’s ears twitched. He thought he detected a hint of reluctance to her words, but he kept his jaws shut about it despite the curiosity that pricked his paws. He didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing and upsetting her again so quickly. 

The more time he spent with Feathertail, the more he realized that there was so much more going on with her than just the kind, friendly impression she initially gave off.

Before Crowpaw could figure out what to say to her next though, Tawnypelt came stalking around the corner of the wall, her limbs stiff and her fur spiked out. She stomped across the barn and right up to Squirrelpaw, her eyes narrowing furiously.

Squirrelpaw glanced up at Tawnypelt but remained in her hunter’s crouch, her brow furrowed. 

“Hey! You scared off my mouse!” she protested.

“That was a dirty trick,” Tawnypelt hissed instead of responding, her tail whipping from side to side.

Squirrelpaw blinked big green eyes up at her, genuine bewilderment on her face.

“What?” she meowed.

“The water!” Tawnypelt spat. “It was disgusting! The taste will be stuck in my mouth for moons!”

Squirrelpaw quickly pulled herself into a seated position, her brow furrowed deeply.

“The water? The water from the puddle right on the other side of the wall? That water?” she clarified.

“Yes!” Tawnypelt hissed in exasperation, her claws flexing in and out. “That water!”

“That water is fine,” Squirrelpaw insisted.

Tawnypelt’s lashing tail picked up in speed.

“Why are you being such a snake-heart?” she spat.

Squirrelpaw’s pelt fluffed out.

“I’m not! I didn’t do anything!” she protested, her voice rising with indignation.

“Alright. Alright,” Brambleclaw said pacifyingly as walked up to the bickering pair. “I’ll go check the water, okay?”

Brambleclaw turned, striding from the barn. Awkward silence fell over the group, but they didn’t have to wait long for him to get back, twitching droplets from his whiskers.

“The water’s fine,” he reported.

Tawnypelt’s brow creased in confusion.

“What? How can it be fine?! It was like poison! I can still taste it on my tongue!”

Stormfur’s board head tilted to the side.

“Did you drink from the wrong puddle?” he suggested.

“There was no other puddle!” Tawnypelt hissed irritably.

Feathertail blinked, her blue eyes round and thoughtful.

“What did it taste like?” she prompted.

Tawnypelt shook her head.

“I don’t know… like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It’s… really salty,” she said.

Brambleclaw’s eyes stretched wide as moons.

“Salty water! Like in my dream!” he gasped, his pelt rippling with uncharacteristic excitement. “Tawnypelt… what if this is a sign from StarClan?!”

Everyone’s eyes went round with surprise and awe. Feathertail suddenly sat up straighter, her face brightening with excitement and hope.

“They must be telling us that we are doing the right thing! Going to the sundrown-place was the right decision!” she meowed.

Brambleclaw nodded hard, and Squirrelpaw released a mew of excitement. 

Tawnypelt licked her paw, running it across her whiskers as her irritation faded in the wake of this revelation, and she reverted back to her usual collected self.

“I’m glad StarClan sent me a sign,” she said. “But, I wish it didn’t have to be so gross!”

She turned back to Squirrelpaw and dipped her head slightly.

“Sorry I almost clawed you up,” she murmured. “I thought for sure you were playing some kind of awful prank on me.”

Squirrelpaw waved off her apology with a swish of her tail, her eyes still bright with excitement.

“I’d probably think the same if it happened to me,” she purred good-naturedly.

Crowpaw watched as his companions exchanged purrs and relieved glances about the sign, and his muscles relaxed slightly as well. At least now they weren’t entirely relying on Brambleclaw’s dream as the indication they were on the right path. 

But, what’s so special about Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt? Why are they the ones who have gotten a sign?

Uncertainty swirled in Crowpaw’s belly, and he shot a glance over to Feathertail from the corner of his eyes.

At least I’m not the only one without it. She hasn’t gotten one yet either.

The group went back to hunting with noticeably better moods than before. Feathertail even gestured for Crowpaw to join her in stalking some mice. But, as he padded over to her, Crowpaw still couldn’t shake off that cold stab of doubt and unease.

His gaze flickered up. In between the gaps in the ceiling, he could see the darkening swath of the sky and a glitter of starlight shining down.

Why them and not me? Deadfoot… have I done something wrong?

The stars remained silent.

Chapter Text

“Eat these.” Mudfur pushed a pile of traveling herbs towards Mothwing. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today to get to Highstones, and we can’t have fresh-kill before we go.”

Mothwing’s belly fluttered with excitement and nerves as she dipped her head to lap up the bitter herbs. Mudfur had thoughtfully sweetened them with a touch of honey so they went down easier, but that still wasn’t enough to settle Mothwing’s stomach. Mudfur ate his herbs as well with a swift resolve that Mothwing had not yet developed, then waited for Mothwing to finish.

“What was in that mix?” Mudfur asked once Mothwing was done.

Mothwing paused, swiping her tongue around her lips thoughtfully as she tried to recall what each of the herbs had looked like, along with their tastes.

“Hm… daisy, sorrel, burnet and a bit of honey?” Mothwing said.

“Excellent,” Mudfur purred, and Mothwing’s tail curled up with pride.

Mudfur rose to his paws, his back arching as he stretched deeply.

“Well, no need to dawdle. We should get started to Fourtrees to meet the others,” he hummed.

Mothwing nodded along obediently, but her brow furrowed at the thought of interacting with the other Clans’ medicine cats. Would they accept her as one of them? Or would they be as cold as the other Clans were last Gathering? She’d already met one of them— Leafpaw. She had been friendly enough at first, but that had been before she knew Mothwing, ‘a rogue,’ had wanted to become a medicine cat…

Mothwing swallowed hard, steeling herself.

The other medicine cats weren’t the scariest part of this half-moon though. Today would be the first day that she ever met StarClan. Would they accept her? Sure, they’d sent the moth’s wing sign, but what if it was like Blackclaw said? What if that sign wasn’t just blanket approval, but rather a sign to give her the chance to prove herself? What if she hadn’t done enough yet?

Please let me be good enough. She pleaded to the morning sky as she followed Mudfur out of the den.

“Mothwing!” Mistyfoot called, trotting over to her and her mentor. “You and Mudfur are off to Mothermouth, right?”

“We are,” Mothwing answered, blinking at the deputy curiously.

Had her old mentor come to wish her luck on her official introduction to StarClan and the other medicine cats? 

A bit of gratitude warmed Mothwing’s heart at the thought.

Mistyfoot nodded, but her blue eyes were clouded— preoccupied with something else.

“You’ll let me know if you come across any scents of Feathertail or Stormfur on your journey?” she asked.

Mothwing’s stomach sank with disappointment.

Of course Feathertail and Stormfur are the only things she cares about.

Mothwing knew she shouldn’t be so sad and jealous, especially when Mistyfoot had every right to be worried with the two still missing. 

But, I just wish that by worrying about them, she didn’t entirely forget about me.

Mothwing quickly dipped her head to Mistyfoot before she could see the troubled emotions on her face.

“Of course, Mistyfoot,” Mothwing murmured.

“Thank you,” Mistyfoot sighed, turning to the side and drifting off again.

Forlorn, Mothwing stared after her for a few moments longer, but she gave her pelt a brisk shake to dislodge the feeling when Mudfur nudged her side to get her attention. Mudfur gestured across the camp with a flick of his tail.

“It looks like your brother wants to talk to you,” he meowed. “Just make it quick, we really should get going soon.”

Mothwing followed his gaze over, her mood lightening slightly as she caught sight of Hawkfrost standing a few fox-lengths away. He waved her over with a paw, and as she trotted towards him, his tail lifted in a friendly greeting.

“It’s a big day for you huh?” Hawkfrost purred, his blue eyes bright.

Mothwing purred back, love and gratitude stirring in her heart that she at least always had her brother to rely on. 

But, Mothwing’s positive feelings soon faded as worry about the trip rose back up. As Hawkfrost continued to stare at her, waiting for a response, Mothwing dipped her head to rasp her tongue through her chest fur a few times to mask her growing nerves.

 “It is. But, I’m a bit nervous,” she admitted.

Hawkfrost’s head tilted to the side in confusion.

“What’s there to be nervous about?” he asked.

Mothwing’s tail-tip started flicking, her anxiety growing until it was bubbling just beneath her pelt. “What if the other medicine cats don’t like me? What if StarClan doesn’t like me?”

“Of course they’ll like you.” Hawkfrost huffed in amusement, rolling his eyes. “You got the sign, right?”

Mothwing shifted from paw to paw, still not convinced.

“Yeah… but I don’t know everything about herbs or being a medicine cat yet,” she muttered. “I’ve been trying really hard with everything that Mudfur has me do or tests me on, but I still mess things up sometimes.”

Hawkfrost’s brow creased in confusion.

“Are you minnow-brained? Of course you don’t know everything! You've only been training for what… two days?”

“It’s been more than that,” Mothwing said with a touch of defensiveness.

“But not more than a quarter moon,” Hawkfrost pointed out.

Mothwing sighed.

“Yeah but…”

“Moth,” Hawkfrost said sternly, locking his blue eyes to her amber. “Calm down. You’ll be great.”

Mothwing sighed hard, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Okay. Thank you,” she muttered.

Hawkfrost’s eyes slid away to glance behind her.

“It looks like Mudfur is waiting for you,” he commented.

“Yeah. He is. I should go,” Mothwing said, rising to her paws.

Hawkfrost nodded his goodbye, and Mothwing padded up to Mudfur, stepping out of camp and taking her first step in her journey to becoming a real medicine cat.

It was an uneventful walk to Fourtrees, and Mothwing was glad that they didn’t run into a WindClan patrol near the river. It had been raining on and off for the past few days now, and as WindClan continued to drink from the river despite it, Leopardstar’s attitude towards them had soured more. But, because Mistyfoot insisted on Leopardstar keeping her promise to allow them drinking privileges until the next Gathering, WindClan continued to drink, and tensions in RiverClan continued to grow higher.

Shaking off her concerns about WindClan, Mothwing focused back in on the present as she and Mudfur reached the slope that led down to the Fourtrees’ clearing. She could see the shapes of three other cats down there. Mudfur started down and Mothwing followed him.

Mothwing inhaled a deep, steading breath as the other medicine cats slowly caught sight of them approaching. Cinderpelt lifted her fluffy grey tail, her blue eyes bright and friendly, while ShadowClan’s medicine cat, a short-statured tabby named Littlecloud, blinked at them curiously. Leafpaw lingered next to her mentor as Mudfur and Mothwing approached, but when they fully entered the hollow, Leafpaw bounded up to them.

“Mothwing! It’s good to see you,” she said.

Mothwing nodded awkwardly, her fur prickling. She couldn’t help but think of the disastrous end of last Gathering, and how that must make Leafpaw think of her. Did she also think Mothwing was incapable of being a good medicine cat? Should she lead with the fact that Mudfur had received a moth wing’s sign?

“Hello Leafpaw,” she said cooly, deciding that a neutral greeting was probably best. “It’s nice to see you again as well.”

Leafpaw blinked, and her ears seemed to droop slightly.

“Mothwing, this is Cinderpelt and Littlecloud,” Mudfur purred in introduction, nodding towards the ThunderClan and ShadowClan medicine cat respectively. “They’re two talented healers.”

“Welcome Mothwing,” Littlecloud said with a purr.

Cinderpelt purred too.

“It’s wonderful to see that Mudfur finally has an apprentice,” she said as she limped up to them— one of her hindlegs permanently dragged behind her after she’d been injured by a monster when she was young. 

“I don’t know how he’s managed to run all of RiverClan by himself for so long!” Cinderpelt continued with an impish flick of her tail.

Mothwing relaxed slightly. Thankfully, none of them seemed too caught up on the fact that she’d been allowed to become a medicine cat despite her rogue blood. She gave them both a polite dip of her head.

“It’s an honor to meet you two,” she said respectfully.

“Well, we should get going,” Littlecloud commented after a pause, glancing up at the sun. “StarClan waits for no one!”

The medicine cats fell into a loose formation like a patrol of friends. Littlecloud and Cinderpelt walked so close to each other their pelts brushed, and they were chattering like birds. Leafpaw trailed a few paw-steps behind her mentor, and Mudfur and Mothwing were a bit behind her at the rear of the patrol. Mothwing glanced around as they started onto the golden moors and in the direction of Highstones, but there was no sign of WindClan’s medicine cat.

“Where’s Barkface?” Mothwing asked Mudfur.

“Oh, he normally meets us by the edge of WindClan territory,” Mudfur explained with a dismissive twitch of his ears.

“It doesn’t make sense for him to go out of the way to meet us at Fourtrees when we’re just going to walk through WindClan anyhow,” Leafpaw added, glancing back at Mothwing.

Mothwing’s ears warmed with embarrassment that she hadn’t thought of that. She gave Leafpaw a curt nod in response before returning to staring out at the moors. Mothwing thought she could feel Leafpaw’s gaze on her for a few moments longer, but when she shot a swift glance over to her again, Leafpaw was back to looking straight ahead.

Mothwing kept her ears pricked for WindClan warriors, but they passed over the moors without issue.

Although even if a patrol happened upon us, no cat would dare think of challenging a group of medicine cats on their way to the Moonstone!

Mothwing felt a thrill run through her fur at the thought of her as one of them.

It was approaching midday when they neared the far edge of WindClan territory, and they came across Barkface as Mudfur had said. He was waiting for them by a small stream, and Mothwing’s eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion as she noticed the water trickling through it. But, despite the tension between RiverClan and WindClan at the moment, Mudfur greeted Barkface as he’d done with the other medicine cats— like an old friend, introducing Mothwing to him. Barkface spared her a curt nod, and Mothwing meowed a polite greeting back at him, but she couldn’t help her pelt from rippling uncomfortably. 

She watched Barkface closely as he conversed with Mudfur as they continued onwards, updating Mudfur on the improved state of the two elders he’d helped Barkface with the other day. Barkface’s posture was relaxed, his short tail held high as if he didn’t have a care in the world as the group walked on, right alongside the WindClan stream with running water, and a thought that sounded an awful lot like Hawkfrost whispered in Mothwing’s mind:

WindClan weasels.

“So Mothwing, have you been to the Moonstone yet?” Leafpaw suddenly asked, pulling Mothwing out of her thoughts.

Mothwing glanced over and saw that the smaller she-cat had dropped back to walk at her side. Mothwing’s muscles tensed as a bit of defensiveness nettled her.

“It’s my first time,” she muttered.

Leafpaw blinked in surprise.

“Really? You haven’t spoken with StarClan before?” she asked.

Mothwing’s long fur rose, defensiveness rushing through her body. 

“What’s it to you?” she demanded. “Don’t think StarClan would want to talk to a rogue?” 

Leafpaw flinched at her harsh tone, and Mothwing blinked, Leafpaw’s reaction driving away the cloud of hostility that shrouded her.

Why am I being so mean? Leafpaw hasn’t even done anything yet.

“I’m sorry,” Leafpaw murmured, staring down at her feet. “All I meant was when Cinderpelt made me her apprentice, she took me to the Moonstone the same day to present me to StarClan. I didn’t know that some mentors would wait until the half-moon to do it.”

Mothwing gave her ears a shake.

“No. I’m sorry,” she said.

Leafpaw’s gaze rose back up to her, her brows lifting in an expression of faint surprise. Mothwing sighed and glanced away from her.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m being too defensive,” she muttered, addressing her words to the prickly yellow grasses instead of at Leafpaw directly. “After the last Gathering… well I guess I expected that cats might still be a bit hostile to the idea of me being a medicine cat.”

“But, Mudfur said…” Leafpaw meowed hesitantly. “I mean, since you’re here, StarClan must have sent a sign, right?”

At the thought of the sign, relief surged through Mothwing— not for the first time. She turned her eyes back to Leafpaw, conviction burning in her gaze.

“They did,” she said. “Although, the waiting was awful. I’d gotten so despondent that I’d even started thinking that I might have to leave the Clan, as crazy as that sounds. But then finally, Mudfur found a moth’s wing right outside his den a few days ago.”

Leafpaw purred encouragingly, her amber eyes brightening. “There you have it then! No cat can argue with StarClan’s choice.”

Mothwing nodded, although her belly twisted uneasily.

“But, will I actually be enough for StarClan?” she asked, some of her anxiety creeping into her voice.

Although as Mothwing spoke, a part of her mind— the part that sounded like Hawkfrost— hissed in protest, asking her why she was spilling her guts to this stranger. 

In truth, Mothwing couldn’t entirely answer that question. She should still be at least a bit wary of Leafpaw, even if her most dire worries about her did now seem unfounded. 

But, Leafpaw’s amber gaze was surprisingly gentle and non-judgemental, and Mothwing somehow found herself not only talking to her, but wanting to do so.

Leafpaw’s head tilted to the side in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“At the Moonstone,” Mothwing explained, her tail flicking now in agitation. “What if StarClan tests me and I don’t remember enough herbs? Will they reject me then? Can you quiz me?”

“Oh Mothwing! It’s not like that when you meet StarClan,” Leafpaw said with a reassuring purr. “It’s… Well, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. But, it won’t be a test. They won’t say that you can’t be a medicine cat just because you don’t know all the herbs yet.”

Mothwing’s brow furrowed.

“Maybe they didn’t for you, but you’re not rogue-born,” Mothwing muttered, unable to mask the tinge of bitterness in her words.

“But, I have outsider blood like you do. My dad was born a kittypet,” Leafpaw pointed out. “But, that doesn’t make me any less of a ThunderClan cat now. StarClan will accept you, Mothwing. You don’t need to worry.”

Mothwing’s whiskers quivered with uncertainty.

“…I guess I just find it a bit hard to believe since some of my Clanmates still don’t think I’ll be able to do the job well,” she admitted, her mind turning to Feathertail’s odd reaction to her from the day before she and Stormfur had disappeared.

Leafpaw’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Really? Oh no, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” she meowed, blinking at Mothwing sympathetically.

Mothwing’s ears twisted back, Leafpaw’s empathy tugging another confession out of her.

“But, that’s the thing,” she meowed softly, looking away from her. “I don’t know if I blame them for having reservations. Some of them have been saying that StarClan’s sign just shows their approval for me to start training. But, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m going to be a decent medicine cat. And, they could be right.”

“But, you are going to be a good medicine cat,” Leafpaw insisted.

Mothwing glanced over at her again and blinked in surprise at the certainty in her gaze. Mothwing gave a quiet scoff, breaking eye-contact again.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Mothwing said, watching the fields slowly pass as their group padded further and further from Clan land. “But— no offense Leafpaw— you don’t really know me.”

“But, I can tell you’re really passionate about this,” Leafpaw asserted. “And, that passion means you’ll work really hard. So, I know you’re going to be great.”

Mothwing started to purr slightly as Leafpaw’s words echoed the ones Hawkfrost had told her earlier.

“It’s funny,” Mothwing murmured. “My brother said something similar just before we left camp.”

A purr rose in Leafpaw’s throat in response to hers.

“Then he sounds like a wise cat,” she said, her tone lightly teasing. “Your brother’s Hawkfrost, right? Are you two close?”

Mothwing’s gaze was pulled back to Leafpaw.

“As close as any two cats can be,” she said warmly. “For a long time, we only had each other. I really don’t know what I’d do without him. It’d be like losing a limb… Anyway though, what about you and your sister? Her name is… um- Squirrelpaw? Is that right?”

Something darkened in Leafpaw’s gaze, and this time, she was the one to look away from Mothwing.

“Yes,” Leafpaw murmured. “Squirrelpaw and I are extremely close too.”

There was a tightness in Leafpaw’s voice that made Mothwing’s brow furrow.

She’s holding something back.

Leafpaw was still avoiding eye-contact, and Mothwing brushed the interaction off with a flick of her ears.

I shouldn’t push her if she doesn’t want to share.

Mothwing allowed the conversation to lapse into silence for a while as they journeyed on, the jagged, black peaks of Highstones in the distance growing larger and larger.

As they walked, Mothwing glanced around the sparse yellow fields, recalling Mistyfoot’s plea to search for any signs of Feathertail and Stormfur. But the territory outside of the Clans was so vast; how was Mothwing supposed to find two cats who maybe didn’t even want to be found?

Mothwing glanced over at Leafpaw, an idea striking her.

I can at least figure out if they are in ThunderClan, like Leopardstar suspects.

“Hey, Leafpaw,” Mothwing began. “Can I ask you something?”

Leafpaw glanced over at her, blinking curiously. The mysterious thing that had been bothering her was gone, and her eyes were as bright and friendly as they’d been before it.

“Sure! What’s up?” Leafpaw chirped.

Mothwing shifted her weight awkwardly on her paws, unsure of if there was any tactful way to pose this question. Being blunt may be the only way to go.

“Feathertail and Stormfur…” Mothwing murmured, dropping her voice so there was no chance of any of the other medicine cats overhearing. “Are they in ThunderClan?”

Leafpaw was so startled that she stopped walking. Mothwing did as well, watching as Leafpaw’s expression went through a rapid variety of changes— first her eyes widening in surprise, next her brow furrowing in confusion, and then her ears twisting back in concern.

“What? No. They’re not,” Leafpaw said.

Mothwing nodded. 

She believed her easily. Leafpaw’s reaction seemed much too genuine for her to be lying. 

“Why are you asking? Are they missing?” Leafpaw pressed, but her voice was hushed too as if she understood this was sensitive information.

“Yes,” Mothwing whispered back. “They disappeared two nights ago with no explanation. We couldn’t find them anywhere on our territory, but we couldn’t find any signs of them being injured or taken by force either. So a lot of cats started to think that they went to ThunderClan to be with their father.”

“No. They aren’t there,” Leafpaw reiterated, her brow creased in concern. “But, ThunderClan is missing two cats too, who disappeared the same time Feathertail and Stormfur did. A warrior named Brambleclaw and… my sister. Squirrelpaw.”

Mothwing’s eyes widened, her belly lurching as a sudden flood of sympathy filled her.

No wonder Leafpaw looked so upset when I brought up Squirrelpaw earlier!

“Oh no…” Mothwing breathed. “Leafpaw… I’m so sorry.”

Leafpaw just twitched an ear in response. Her jaw was set in a brave expression, but her eyes still shone with deep worry for her sister. 

Impulsively, Mothwing ducked her head so she could press her muzzle to Leafpaw’s forehead in a comforting gesture. For a moment, Leafpaw stiffened in surprise at the contact, but she soon relaxed under the touch. Then it was Mothwing’s turn to jolt in surprise as Leafpaw leaned forward, slipping out from under her muzzle to lightly brush her cheek against Mothwing’s in return.

Leafpaw pulled back a heartbeat later, avoiding Mothwing’s eyes as if she were feeling a bit sheepish from the action. Mothwing’s ears warmed in faint embarrassment as well. Maybe it hadn’t been entirely appropriate of her to have so casually initiated contact like they were close friends and Clanmates. Well, medicine cats were supposed to be friendly with each other, but this was only their second time meeting.

“Thank you,” Leafpaw muttered. “I’m worried about them.”

Mothwing nodded, eager to continue the conversation and leave the awkwardness of the contact behind.

“Understandably so,” she meowed. “What do you think happened to Brambleclaw and your sister?” 

Mothwing frowned slightly as her mind turned to Brambleclaw.

Speaking of siblings, Brambleclaw is my half-brother, but I don’t really know anything about him besides that. Why would he have wanted to leave ThunderClan? Is the weight of being Tigerstar’s son too great? I know it wouldn’t be easy for me in RiverClan if all my Clanmates knew Tigerstar was my father... But, that doesn’t explain why Squirrelpaw is gone. She’s Firestar’s daughter, and she has a sister who loves her so much!

“Do you think whatever made Stormfur and Feathertail leave made Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw leave too?” Mothwing asked slowly as the idea dawned on her.

Thoughts darted deep in Leafpaw’s eyes like minnows, and again Mothwing got the sense that she knew a bit more than she let on.

“It’s certainly possible,” Leafpaw muttered. “I’d say even likely.”

Worry swirled in Mothwing’s belly.

“You don’t think that they could’ve been taken by something?” Mothwing asked in a low voice. “Other cats? Predators? …Twolegs?”

Leafpaw opened her jaws to respond, but a yowl echoed across the fields before any words could pass her lips.

“You dormouses coming?” Cinderpelt called from some distance away.

Mothwing blinked in surprise. While she and Leafpaw had been busy talking, the other medicine cats had pulled far ahead of them and now they were on the crest of an entirely different slope. After exchanging another swift, sheepish glance with Leafpaw, Mothwing and Leafpaw trotted after the others at a brisk pace.

“I pray to StarClan that they haven’t,” Leafpaw panted to Mothwing, picking up the conversation again as they hurried to catch up to their mentors. “Hopefully they left for some other reason.”

Mothwing blinked in confusion. “But, what reason could make them want to leave their Clans?”

Leafpaw shrugged and didn’t say anything more as they rejoined the patrol. Mudfur had stopped his conversation with Barkface and waited for Mothwing at the end of the group, his whiskers twitching in faint amusement. When she and Leafpaw caught back up, Mudfur slipped near Mothwing’s side as Leafpaw hurried over to Cinderpelt.

“It’s nice to see you making friends,” Mudfur purred to her.

Mothwing’s ears flattened self-consciously as the group continued on.

The rest of the journey passed uneventfully, and the sun was beginning to sink as the medicine cats approached Highstones. The rough moorland grass gave way to a steep slope of bare soil, splattered with clumps of occasional heather. Outcrops of rock poked through it, blotched with yellow lichen.

Barkface, who had taken the lead, paused on a flat rock and gazed upward. Just ahead, a dark hole gaped in the hillside beneath a stone archway. Mothwing gazed at it, her tongue suddenly dry.

Mothermouth.

Leafpaw took a seat and gestured for Mothwing to do the same. The other medicine cats were all settling down too— Cinderpelt was stretching out her bad leg, Mudfur was grooming his sides, and Littlecloud was picking grit from his toes. Only Barkface remained standing on the flat rock. Leafpaw leaned towards Mothwing to whisper in her ear.

“We have to wait until the moon rises to go inside. But, Barkface will sing a hymn first,” she said.

Mothwing blinked, mystified at what Leafpaw meant by a ‘hymn,’ but she just nodded in response. 

But, the answer to her question soon became obvious enough as Barkface closed his eyes and rumbled a low, melodic hum, the sky above a brillant tapestry of red, purple and pink streaks and swirls from the setting sun.

“Moon, show us to the endless sky,
To ancestors of light,
For your wisdom we humbly cry,
StarClan, guide us tonight.”

“StarClan, guide us tonight,” the other medicine cats echoed solemnly, Mothwing's tongue stumbling as she hurriedly tried to keep up.

The group then settled in to wait, and Mothwing found her anxiety rising with every passing moment despite the assurances Leafpaw had tried to give her on the walk over.

What happens if StarClan rejects me? Could I go back to being a warrior? Or would I have to leave RiverClan? 

What about Hawkfrost? Would he come with me? If he didn’t, what would I do without him?

If I do see StarClan, who will speak to me? 

Mothwing shivered, a horrible thought striking her.

It won’t be Tigerstar, right? Oh no, please not him. But, he’s my only Clan-ancestor that I know about!

“Don’t be scared. It’ll be okay,” Leafpaw murmured, briefly pulling Mothwing out of her whirlwind of anxiety.

“I’m fine,” Mothwing said in a tight voice.

Leafpaw didn’t argue with the blatant lie, not even when she curled her tail around to lightly touch it to Mothwing’s flank, and Mothwing knew she could feel her trembling.

At last, the half-moon floated above the peak of Highstones, and Mudfur stood, lifting his tail. 

“It’s time,” he rasped.

Mothwing’s belly knotted with tension as she rose to her paws. Leafpaw gave her another reassuring blink while the group climbed the slope towards the looming maw of Mothermouth. 

Mothwing shivered at the icy gust of wind that rushed from the tunnel, stirring her whiskers as she padded towards the entrance at her mentor’s tail. The darkness ahead was total— not a glimmer of light escaped the inky blackness. As they grew closer, it seemed to reach out towards Mothwing like a paw, gripping her in its razor talons. 

“Stay right at my tail,” Mudfur murmured to Mothwing over his shoulder. “It’s possible to get lost if you don’t know the way.”

Mothwing just nodded, knowing that her voice would come out too shaky if she tried to speak.

Single file, the medicine cats entered into the tunnel. Mothwing shuddered as the darkness consumed her, snuffing out not just her sight, but also any sound— the gentle noises of the night, soft chirps of crickets and songs of night-birds, were swiftly muffled by the massive walls of stone. Even Mothwing’s sense of smell left her as the air around her grew too stale and cold to hold onto scents well.

Her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps, Mothwing was left relying on touch alone. The cold floor of the tunnel sloped downwards under her paws as they traveled even deeper beneath the mountain of stone. Their path was a meandering one, weaving back and forth until Mothwing lost all sense of direction. But Mothwing knew they were going the right way because Mudfur’s tail stayed right at her muzzle, his soft, feathery fur occasionally brushing her nose. And, thank StarClan for that, since that contact was the single, fragile anchor keeping her away from full-blown panic.

It seemed like they had been walking for seasons by the time Mothwing felt a breeze of fresh air stirring her whiskers. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

Fresh air? But, we are so far underground… Have we walked all the way through the mountain?

Mothwing blinked, realizing that the utter darkness was taking on shades of grey, and now she could see Mudfur’s silhouette in front of her. The tunnel opened up into a cavern. The small amount of light in the cave filtered down from a hole in the ceiling high above, and in the center of the cavern stood a rock about three tail-lengths high.

The other medicine cats gathered around it in a circle. Still following Mudfur, Mothwing settled in next to him, blinking in confusion as she gazed at the medicine cats sitting still in silence, staring at the rock.

Is this the Moonstone? Are they doing something right now? Am I supposed to be doing something?

“What’s going on?” Mothwing hissed to Mudfur.

“Hush,” he silenced her gently. “We must wait until it’s time to share tongues with StarClan.”

Mothwing gave a shuddering sigh of relief that she wasn’t missing out on something.

From her other side, Leafpaw pressed her shoulder against hers in a silent show of support, her touch warming Mothwing’s pelt and driving away a bit of the iciness of the cave.

Mothwing stared at the dark rock, waiting and waiting. She shifted her weight from paw to paw and attempted to take a few deep breaths.

How will we know when it’s time?  

After many more agonizing moments, suddenly a brilliant flash of white light flooded the cave, making Mothwing’s eyes screw shut reflexively. She cracked them back open a heartbeat later, and a gasp tore from her throat as her vision adjusted.

The rock that had been dark and dead was now dazzling with white and silver light reflected down from the moon that had appeared through the hole in the roof. The stone’s crystalline surface rippled and shimmered as if the light inside it was alive, casting dancing shadows on the walls around them. 

Mothwing stared, her eyes wide with awe and wonder. She could barely tear her gaze off the stone even when Mudfur stood and faced her.

His pelt was now edged with silver, and his eyes glowed as if he himself was full of starlight.

“Mothwing,” he meowed solemnly, “is it your wish to enter into the mysteries of StarClan as a medicine cat?”

Mothwing attempted to swallow, but she suddenly found her mouth bone-dry.

“It is,” she rasped.

Mudfur nodded. “Then come forward.”

Mothwing stood slowly, her paws dragging with reluctance as she pulled away from the comforting pressure of Leafpaw’s side and a rush of cold air replaced Leafpaw’s warmth. Mothwing then took a few hesitant steps forward until she and Mudfur stood side-by-side, only a mouse-length away from the Moonstone.

“Warriors of StarClan,” Mudfur continued, “I present to you this apprentice. She has chosen the path of a medicine cat. Grant her your wisdom and insight so that she may understand your ways and heal her Clan in accordance with your will.”

Mudfur then glanced back at Mothwing, giving her a small, reassuring nod.

“Lie down, and press your nose against the stone,” he whispered.

Mothwing gave a tiny nod back and obeyed, crouching down onto the cold cavern floor before closing her eyes and gingerly touching her nose against the stone.

All at once, cold gripped her body as if she had suddenly turned to ice. Mothwing jolted at the frigid touch, yanking her head back, and her eyes flew open. But, the sight that greeted her wasn’t the Moonstone and the other medicine cats. Rather she found herself lying in a dark, quiet forest, reeds swaying around her, and the soft babbling of the river behind her.

Blinking in confusion, Mothwing rose to her paws and glanced around.

What? …I must be dreaming.

But, it looked exactly like she was in RiverClan territory. She even recognized this bend in the river— it was one of Hawkfrost’s favored fishing spots.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, from out of the shadows cast by the willows, Hawkfrost came stalking out. Mothwing rose to her paws, her tail lifting in greeting.

“Hawkfrost!” she called.

Hawkfrost continued padding by, not even an ear twitching in her direction. Mothwing’s brow furrowed for a moment, but clarity came quickly.

Oh. He must not be able to hear or see me since this is a dream.

Mothwing gazed after Hawkfrost curiously. Why was she dreaming about him? Wasn’t she supposed to dream about dead cats instead?

“Mothwing,” a new voice suddenly called her.

Mothwing started, every hair on her pelt standing on end. The voice was familiar, although not exactly the same as she remembered it. Her heart hammering, Mothwing slowly turned to see a small black cat gazing at her from a few fox-lengths away.

“Tadpole?” Mothwing breathed, her racing heartbeat picking up even more in speed. “Oh Stars, it is you!”

A purr bursting from her throat, Mothwing leapt forward, closing the distance between her and her long-lost brother. She dipped her head down to reach his, rubbing her face to his cheek.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Mothwing gasped.

“I’ve missed you too,” Tadpole said, his voice vibrating with a purr.

Mothwing pulled back from him so she could gaze at his face with wonder.

“I never thought I’d see you again! You’re in StarClan?!” she asked.

Tadpole nodded.

“We have kin here who vouched for me, even though I was never a Clan-cat,” he said.

Despite his kit-like stature, his voice had a maturity to it that it’d lacked in life, and Tadpole’s yellow-amber eyes were as wise as any warriors’.

Mothwing’s ears angled back nervously. “Kin… You don’t mean… Tigerstar?”

Tadpole swiftly shook his head. “No. Not him.”

Mothwing breathed a sigh of relief.

“Tadpole… I’m so glad that you’re here. There’s so many things I need to tell you,” Mothwing murmured, her voice beginning to tremble slightly. “I’m so sorry Hawkfrost and I couldn’t rescue you from the water. You saved us. But we couldn’t—”

Tadpole brushed his tail against Mothwing’s side, silencing her. “You have nothing to apologize for. We were so young. It was an accident. That’s all.”

Mothwing sighed, a huge weight lifting from her shoulders. She opened her mouth to respond, but Tadpole was continuing before she could say anything.

“I’m sorry Mothwing, but we don’t have much time to talk,” Tadpole meowed gently. “I came here to you because there’s something you need to see. Go follow Hawkfrost.”

“Hawkfrost?” Mothwing echoed in confusion, glancing over her shoulder.

Hawkfrost had already gone off somewhere out of sight, but his scent-trail was fresh and obvious. She glanced back over at Tadpole, regret that she had to leave him so soon dragging at her belly.

“Okay, I’ll go after him. But, will I ever see you again?” she meowed.

Tadpole rumbled a brief purr, stretching up on his toes to press his muzzle to hers.

“I hope so. But even if you don’t, know that I’ll always be watching over you,” he said before pausing, his purr fading as his eyes grew deeply serious.

“And, Mothwing…” Tadpole continued hesitantly. “Remember, no matter what you see over there, you’re not alone. There are cats in the Clans and in StarClan that care about you.”

Mothwing’s stomach turned uneasily.

“Okay…” she said, an image of Hawkfrost’s familiar, laughing face forming in her mind. “I know that.”

“Good,” Tadpole meowed, drawing away from her. “Go on then.”

Mothwing nodded. With a sad meow of goodbye, she turned away from Tadpole and started following her other brother’s scent. She trotted swiftly after Hawkfrost, soon catching up to him as he continued creeping through the undergrowth.

He was crouched down and moving slowly as if he was hunting, but Mothwing couldn’t tell what prey he was stalking. Her jaws parted, and she drank in the air, searching for scents, but there were no hints on the breeze.

There were just the willows, and the reeds, and the great expanse of the jet-black river, its darkness only interrupted by yellow flickers of fireflies and flashes of the pale wings of moths.

What am I supposed to be seeing?

Hawkfrost had stopped moving and was now just gazing out over the river, his icy blue eyes tracking the flight of a moth.

Mothwing blinked, worry lurching in her gut as she realized the edges of her vision were blurring, and there was a ghostly sensation of the cold cave floor pressing against her belly. Mothwing dug her claws into the sandy ground of the river bank, trying to tether herself to the dream.

I can’t wake up! I haven’t figured out what Tadpole wants me to see yet!

But, it was no use. At her next blink, her eyes opened to the cavern and the dark Moonstone in front of her nose. The moon had passed its zenith, and the rock was dead again. All the other medicine cats were also stirring, their eyes opening and heads lifting. 

Despite the fact that Mothwing hadn’t gotten to finish her dream, her worry and disappointment faded quickly as some excitement appeared to crackle through her pelt.

I did it! All of StarClan must have accepted me since I made contact with a StarClan cat! I saw Tadpole!

Mudfur flicked his tail-tip lightly against her muzzle, signaling for silence, and the medicine cats streamed out of the cavern back the way they came. The journey back to the surface seemed to take less time than the way down, and as soon as their paws crossed the threshold of the tunnel, stepping back into the outside, Mothwing turned to Mudfur and Leafpaw with an eager gasp, her tail curling up with delight.

“I did it!” she said. “I had a dream, and I saw Hawkfrost and—”

Leafpaw gave her head a small shake, gently interrupting her.

“Medicine cats typically keep their StarClan dreams to themselves until they know what they mean,” she explained.

“Although you can always talk to me if you need help interpreting a dream,” Mudfur added.

Mothwing hesitated for a moment before giving a nod. “Oh, okay.”

I don’t think I need help interpreting this dream though… I just need to finish it next time so I know what I’m supposed to see!

Leafpaw purred, touching her tail-tip to Mothwing’s shoulder and pulling her from her thoughts.

“Congratulations,” she meowed. “I knew it would all turn out okay.”

“Yes, now you’re a true medicine cat apprentice,” Mudfur said, his amber eyes sparkling. “How does it feel?”

Despite her nagging questions about what her dream meant, the tense recent happenings with WindClan, and the strange disappearances of Feathertail, Stormfur, Squirrelpaw, and Brambleclaw, Mothwing’s heart filled with hope and excitement for the future. Now that she had spoken to StarClan, she knew for sure that she had their approval to keep training to be a medicine cat. And, not only that, but she also now knew that Tadpole’s spirit was still out there, watching over her and Hawkfrost. 

Finally, everything in her life was clicking into place, and she could see the path laid out ahead of her— clear, and smooth, and lit up in brilliant light.

“Wonderful!” she said, a purr rumbling in her throat. “I’m so happy and relieved. I’m going to train really hard, and none of our Clanmates will have any reason to doubt me... Everything will be alright now!”

Chapter Text

Several days of journeying passed in the form of never-ending farmlands, incessant bickering within the group, and a nagging tension headache pulsing behind Crowpaw’s eyes.

StarClan please strike me down. Crowpaw silently begged as Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw got into their hundredth petty argument of the day about Brambleclaw being too bossy, or Squirrelpaw being too impulsive, or whoever being too whatever — truthfully, Crowpaw hadn’t really been listening.

The attitude within the group though was perhaps marginally better than it’d been at the start of their journey at least. Although Crowpaw couldn’t shake that small amount of anxiety and dread about his lack of saltwater sign, which clung to his pelt like a stubborn cobweb, for everyone else, Tawnypelt’s sign had been invigorating. Moods were high, and, despite the fact that Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw still quarreled near constantly, neither of the two seemed to ever get truly upset by their fighting. In fact, Crowpaw was starting to suspect that Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw secretly enjoyed the verbal sparring.

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur bristled, a horrifying concept occurring to him.

Oh no. Does that mean that it’s going to be like this the whole time?

“Everything alright?” a soft mew asked.

Crowpaw blinked, refocusing on Feathertail, who’d dropped back to pad at his side. She nodded to Crowpaw’s bristling fur in indication, and Crowpaw quickly flattened his pelt.

“Yeah. Just had an unpleasant thought about someone,” he muttered.

Feathertail’s bright blue eyes slitted in faint amusement.

“Not about me, I hope,” she said.

Crowpaw flicked his tail-tip.

“No. Not about you,” he answered, shooting a pointed look at Squirrelpaw’s and Brambleclaw’s backs as the pair continued to argue. 

Squirrelpaw was attempting to swat at Brambleclaw’s ears now, but it was a difficult task since Brambleclaw was so much taller than her. Squirrelpaw was reared on her hindlegs, her forepaws flailing wildly as she tried to reach his ears as Brambleclaw ducked and dodged.

“You absolutely unbearable furball!” Squirrelpaw hissed, her bushy tail lashing. “Hold still!”

“No! Stop trying to hit me! Maniac!” Brambleclaw hissed back, stretching one of his legs out towards Squirrelpaw in an attempt to keep her at bay.

Crowpaw glanced back over at Feathertail, and he found her whiskers quivering with barely repressed laughter as she gazed at the two ThunderClan cats.

“They’re just having fun,” she said, turning her attention back to Crowpaw.

Crowpaw snorted, shooting Feathertail a wry sideways glance.

“If your definition of ‘fun’ includes Squirrelpaw attacking you, I’d hate to know your definition of ‘unpleasant,’” he said.

At that, Feathertail purred loudly, no longer holding back her laughter, and Crowpaw’s heartbeat briefly stuttered.

“Squirrelpaw and the rest aren’t so bad, once you get to know them,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

Crowpaw harrumphed doubtfully. But, he was feeling generous, so he decided to grace Feathertail with a slight concession.

“Maybe,” he grunted.

Feathertail leaned in a bit closer to him, her tail flicking mischievously.

“You know, you might even actually like them,” she said in a whisper, like it was some kind of secret.

“I don’t need to ‘like’ anyone here to do as StarClan commanded,” Crowpaw pointed out, although he was careful not to sound too abrasive about it.

Despite the fact that he knew that friendship with any of these cats was rather pointless, since, of course, the whole goal of this journey was to return back to their separate Clans, Crowpaw was still hesitant to say the wrong thing and risk losing Feathertail’s companionship again. He had started to, admittedly, rather enjoy her company.

Feathertail tilted her head, angling one ear towards him in a slightly cheeky expression. 

“Sure. But, wouldn’t it make this whole thing a lot more pleasant?”

Words started to form on Crowpaw’s tongue, but common sense held him back from speaking them out loud at the last possible moment:

I like you. Isn’t that enough?

Crowpaw stiffened, his heart hammering in his ears at the dangerous thought. 

“Hey Feathertail!” Stormfur called suddenly, trotting up to her side. “Come here and help me convince Tawnypelt that fish taste better than frogs.”

“Alright,” Feathertail said with a huff of laughter, flicking her tail in goodbye to Crowpaw as she drifted towards Tawnypelt, her silver and black fur billowing around her.

Crowpaw released a deep breath, giving his ears a shake to clear the sudden fuzziness that had appeared in his head.

Why had he almost said that? It was fine to enjoy Feathertail’s company when they were forced together by circumstance. But, to actually like her, as an individual, who is in RiverClan, not WindClan, felt like a step too far— a step even towards disloyalty. 

What would Mudclaw say if he knew about this? He’d be appalled.

Crowpaw grimaced to himself.

I’d be like Onewhisker. The weirdo with closer friends in Clans other than his own.

Crowpaw glanced after Feathertail and Stormfur, watching them as they joked around with Tawnypelt, several fox-lengths away from him.

Maybe it’s a good thing Stormfur spoke up when he did and stopped me from saying anything so rabbit-brained.

But, as Crowpaw gazed after Feathertail, Stormfur, and Tawnypelt while they bantered about which prey was the best, a bitter emotion, something similar to jealousy, oozed into Crowpaw’s chest. Even Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw had stopped their quarreling and joined in the lively conversation. They were now staunchly on the same side, which was ‘squirrels.’

Crowpaw’s nose wrinkled. It was an entirely pointless discussion— why did it matter if squirrels were better tasting than fish or not; it wasn’t like the ThunderClan cats were ever going to eat fish anyway. They were just wasting their time arguing about it.

Brambleclaw nudged Tawnypelt’s flank with his muzzle.

“I can’t believe my sister has frog-breath,” he teased, his amber eyes glinting.

Tawnypelt swatted him away with a mock growl.

“That’s at least still better than fish-breath!” Squirrelpaw added, her tail flicking mischievously.

Tawnypelt huffed in annoyance, shooting a knowing glance over at Feathertail and Stormfur.

“ThunderClanners and their unsophisticated palates,” she said haughtily.

Feathertail just purred, but Stormfur still gazed at Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw earnestly.

“If you give fish a chance, I really think you may actually like it,” he meowed.

Squirrelpaw’s muzzle crinkled up in disgust.

“No thanks,” she said.

“What do you think, Crowpaw?”

Crowpaw jolted at the sudden invocation of his name. He glanced over at Feathertail as she gazed back at him, blinking expectantly. The others seemed less eager about Crowpaw joining in the conversation though. Brambleclaw’s expression was already set in a half-grimace, as if he was bracing himself for Crowpaw to snarl at them. Squirrelpaw not at all subtly rolled her eyes. Tawnypelt seemed disinterested, instead twisting her head to groom her side. Even Stormfur shifted from paw to paw hesitantly.

Crowpaw looked away from them. What was the point in entertaining this conversation when it was stupid, and they didn’t even want to talk to him anyway? 

Although, of course, the feeling is mutual!

“I think I’ll just stick to rabbit,” Crowpaw said curtly.

“...I knew his answer was going to be boring,” Squirrelpaw muttered.

Crowpaw clenched his jaw, glaring at her.

“Oh really? Rabbits are more boring than squirrels?” he snapped.

Squirrelpaw blinked at him.

“Of course,” she said, as if it was a fact as obvious as the sun.

Crowpaw growled but gave his ears a brisk shake, trying to not let his emotions cloud his judgment. Squirrelpaw was obviously just trying to bait him.

“I’m not gonna let you pull me into this stupid conversation,” Crowpaw hissed.

Opening up his stride, he ran ahead from the rest of the patrol. 

The fields that surrounded them were coated with prickly yellow stalks, like all the plants in this area had somehow been sliced down only to nubs, and many segments of the dried plants lay discarded on the ground. The sharp points of the stalks stabbed into Crowpaw’s feet as he ran, making him wish for the firm but springy moor ground of WindClan territory. Still, Crowpaw ignored the pain, letting his legs carry him straight across the field, his paws only slowing as he reached a physical barrier. There was a tall fence made out of some sort of shiny, silver twoleg material, weaved together like a mesh. The area it encircled ahead looked much more appealing than the shorn field they were traveling through— it was full of tall, normal grass, not unlike the fields back home, even studded with a few trees. 

But, when the wind direction shifted, Crowpaw’s nose wrinkled up as it brought with it a sour, powerful scent, wafting over from the land ahead.

Dog.

His pelt bristled uneasily, but there was no clear way around the field ahead of them— it seemed massive. They would just have to risk it. 

I can’t see or hear the dog at least.

The sound of paw-steps alerted him to his approaching companions. Crowpaw flicked his tail towards the field ahead.

“Dog,” he warned.

Brambleclaw lifted his muzzle to the breeze, his mouth opening to draw the air over his tongue.

“The sun sets directly ahead. We’ll have to risk it anyway,” Brambleclaw muttered.

Crowpaw’s tail flipped irritably.

I already knew that.

“How do we get across the fence?” Stormfur asked, his brow furrowed.

“Well, we’ve got two options. Up and over, or down and under,” Tawnypelt said drily, lifting her muzzle to point to the top before lowering her gaze down to the base as she sized the fence up.

Crowpaw immediately started sniffing around at the bottom of the fence. Thanks to the lack of trees in WindClan territory, he wasn’t the most proficient climber, and he didn’t love the idea of making an absolute fool of himself in front of all these cats.

Thankfully, he found a loose bit of webbing that created a gap between the bottom of the fence and the ground, just big enough for a cat to squeeze through. He flattened himself to the earth and swiftly wiggled beneath, wincing as the stiff material scraped his back. As he straightened on the other side, the fence rattled and shook as Tawnypelt launched herself at it, scrambling over by nimbly hooking her paws into the holes created by the woven silver webbing. Brambleclaw followed her, while Feathertail squirmed under, after Crowpaw. Feathertail was shaking the dirt from her pelt as Brambleclaw landed back on the ground, his bulk making an audible thump . Once Stormfur started climbing, Crowpaw turned away from the fence, his eyes narrowing as he carefully scanned the fields ahead. 

The dog scent buffeted his nostrils, and, was he imagining it, or did it seem a bit stronger now?

An angry wail suddenly came from behind Crowpaw, followed by a violent rattling of the fence. Crowpaw jolted, whipping towards the noise, his back already arching defensively.

“I’m stuck!” Squirrelpaw said.

Stormfur had made it to their side after climbing over, but Squirrelpaw had tried to slip under after Feathertail. As she had done so, the fence stuff had started to come unraveled, and the ends were tangled deep in her long, dense fur. She was now flat on her belly, trapped halfway beneath the fence. Every time she wriggled, the sharp ends of fence dug into her skin and made her squeak with pain.

“Well, what are you all staring at? Get me out!” Squirrelpaw hissed, her tail lashing furiously from the other side of the fence.

Crowpaw swallowed back an inadvisable purr at how ridiculous she looked with her bristled, bushy tail thrashing in the air as she was stuck flat on the ground.

“Keep still,” Brambleclaw ordered. “You’ll only get your fur tangled in deeper with your wiggling.”

He turned and studied the sturdy wooden post. “Maybe if we dig up the fence post the stuff will come loose.” 

Crowpaw snorted.

“Do you see the size of that post? We’d have better luck digging up a tree,” he said.

“Yeah,” Stormfur agreed with a small nod. “It would be quicker to bite through the fence.”

Crowpaw frowned skeptically. The mesh material seemed rather firm to him. It’d probably break their teeth before it gave away. But, Stormfur still ducked his head and gave the shiny strands an experimental tug with his front teeth. He straightened up, spitting. 

“No, it’s too tough,” he said, his tail-tip twitching with frustration.

Crowpaw rolled his eyes.

“I could’ve told you that,” he said.

“Well do you have any suggestions, oh wise-one?” Squirrelpaw spat, glaring at him with a gaze as sharp as claws.

Crowpaw opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a baying howl echoed across the fields, and they all froze. The reeking scent of dog rushed into Crowpaw’s nose, undeniably stronger this time. He turned back to Squirrelpaw, his rapid heartbeat thumping with a new urgency.

“We need to bite through her fur,” he said.

“You are not biting through my fur, mouse-brain!” Squirrelpaw spat.

Crowpaw’s lips curled back into a snarl.

“This is your own fault! This wouldn’t have happened if you’d been more careful or groomed the knots out of your fur properly! So, come on, do you want to lose a clump of fur to the fence or your ears to the dog?” Crowpaw growled.

“I choose neither!” Squirrelpaw snarled back.

“Squirrelpaw, be reasonable,” Brambleclaw urged. “We need to get you out of there before the dog finds us. Fur grows back.”

Squirrelpaw glared at Brambleclaw, her jaw set. Crowpaw gazed at her, stunned at her sheer idiotic stubbornness. 

This is ridiculous!

Crowpaw leaned over, starting to nip at the edges of her fur to tug her free. But her pelt was knotted so tightly to the fence that Crowpaw had to bite very near her skin to snip the hairs, and his fangs accidentally scraped her skin. Squirrelpaw squeaked in pain, and Crowpaw was suddenly shoved aside by a heavy paw.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Stormfur said, glaring at Crowpaw.

“You try to bite me again, and I’ll bite your face!” Squirrelpaw snarled.

“Fine!” Crowpaw spat furiously, his tail whipping from side to side. “If you don’t want my help, then just stay there and be dog-food and the rest of us can go on!”

Stormfur leveled a hard, orange gaze at Crowpaw. “I won’t leave her alone.”

“Wonderful!” Crowpaw snapped sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Then the four chosen cats can complete the journey as StarClan intended. See you on the way home, if the dog hasn’t gotten you by then!”

Stormfur rumbled a low warning growl, his claws unsheathing. Crowpaw’s muscles bunched as he lowered down into a crouch, frustration pounding in him. If Stormfur wanted a fight, he’d give it to him. The barking of the dog drifted over to them again, still some distance away but growing closer. Brambleclaw stepped forward between Crowpaw and Stormfur, his amber eyes sharp.

“That’s enough,” he hissed. “We aren’t leaving anyone behind. So for StarClan’s sake, use your brain instead of your claws and think of a way to get Squirrelpaw out of there!”

“Way ahead of you,” Tawnypelt’s sarcastic mew cut in.

Stormfur, Brambleclaw, and Crowpaw all turned towards her voice to see that Tawnypelt and Feathertail were now crouched next to Squirrelpaw, and they were smearing some kind of green pulp into Squirrelpaw’s tangled fur.

“Honestly, can you guys do anything but argue?” Feathertail asked, her tail twitching in exasperation.

Tawnypelt snorted.

“Evidently not. Not even when a cat’s life could be on the line from a dog attack,” she said, leveling a scathing, disapproving glare at Brambleclaw, Stormfur, and Crowpaw before turning her attention back to Squirrelpaw. “There, the dock leaves should have made your fur nice and slippery, Squirrelpaw. Now try again!”

Squirrelpaw scrabbled at the ground with her forepaws while her hind legs pumped behind her to try to push herself forward. 

“It’s not working!” she gasped.

“It is,” Feathertail responded tightly, pressing more green slime against the snagged fur. “I can see the fur loosening. Keep going.”

“And hurry,” Brambleclaw added, his voice taking on an edge of fear as the barking grew even louder.

Crowpaw’s pelt was starting to bristle too as he turned towards the noise and braced himself for the dog to appear over the rise at any moment— as much as he’d threatened to leave Squirrelpaw, he wasn’t actually going to run away like a coward if the dog attacked. 

With a stubborn growl, Squirrelpaw tugged even harder. Then all at once, her ginger fur slipped off the fence, and Squirrelpaw shot forward into the field, leaving only a few strands of hair behind.

“Let’s go!” Squirrelpaw yowled victoriously as she hared off into the grass without breaking stride. “Or do you all want to be dog-food?”

Crowpaw rolled his eyes, huffing irritatedly, but the others were purring with amusement and relief as they took off after Squirrelpaw. As they caught up to her, Squirrelpaw shot Feathertail and Tawnypelt a grateful glance while the group ran.

“Thank you! Thank you! Using dock leaves was a brilliant idea,” she purred. “I wish I’d thought of it. Leafpaw told me some herbs before we left, but she didn’t tell me what herbs would free me from a fence!”

“I’m not surprised. Fences don’t usually attack warriors,” Tawnypelt deadpanned, but her green eyes shimmered with amusement.

Squirrelpaw flicked her tail, taking the teasing in stride.

“I’ll get my revenge on it on our way back,” she declared.

“Now we just have to focus on making it out of this field with our tails intact,” Brambleclaw rumbled, shooting a glance over his shoulder to scan for the dog.

“At least we’re downwind,” Stormfur puffed. 

Crowpaw was not surprised Stormfur was panting so hard. They were moving at a sprint, and although the speed didn’t bother Crowpaw, the RiverClanners’ bulky muscles were much better suited for navigating strong currents than pelting across a field. 

“Yes, StarClan’s looking out for us,” Feathertail said in response to her brother, her blue eyes gleaming with certainty.

She turned out to be right. The dog’s scent and barking faded to near nothingness as the group continued to run, and eventually, Brambleclaw declared it safe enough for them to slow. 

Stormfur nearly stumbled into Crowpaw in his exhaustion as they dropped down to a stop, but Crowpaw swiftly sprung out of the way.

“Watch it,” he hissed, lashing his tail once.

“Sorry,” Stormfur mumbled, his hard gaze meeting Crowpaw’s.

Crowpaw’s tail still twitched, but he looked away from him. He hadn’t expected Stormfur to stand up for Squirrelpaw like that when she’d been stuck. Although, to be fair, he didn’t really know what to expect from Stormfur since the tom was so reserved. But, maybe he was finally coming out of his shell.

Crowpaw rolled his eyes to himself.

Great. Soon he’ll just be one more voice added to the chorus of headaches.

Once everyone had gotten the chance to catch their breath, they started off again at a trot that was much more manageable this time for the majority of their patrol, although Crowpaw’s paws still thrummed with energy. Crowpaw glanced over at Feathertail as they walked, and he noticed that her brow was furrowed pensively.

“Can we all talk? About something important?” Feathertail asked after a bit of walking.

The tone of Feathertail’s voice must have seemed significant to Brambleclaw because he waved for the group to stop with his tail, giving Feathertail his full attention. Crowpaw glanced towards her too, but he couldn’t stop his claws from flexing in and out irritably at being halted again.

“Sure Feathertail. What’s up?” Brambleclaw asked, blinking at her curiously.

Feathertail inhaled deeply, lifting her chin as if she was bracing herself for a speech.

“I know that all the cats here might not necessarily have been the cats any of us would have picked to be in this group, if we had the ability to do so,” she began. “But, I think today has shown that— like it or not— we are all on this journey together, and we need to help each other if we want to make it through this in one piece. So can we at least all agree that we’ll try to get along?” 

Feathertail swept an imploring gaze over each individual, and Crowpaw’s neck fur rose defensively as her eyes met his. He couldn’t help but feeling like her words were directed straight to him, more so than anyone else.

“I agree. That’s a really good idea, Feathertail,” Stormfur meowed evenly, giving his sister a supportive blink.

Crowpaw swallowed back a growl.

Easy for him to say! He already keeps himself out of basically any decision or conflict. Today was just a fluke!

Tawnypelt nodded.

“It makes sense for us to help each other,” she said. “I mean, practically speaking, our chances of survival are much better if we work together.”

“I’ll do it,” Squirrelpaw said. “But only if everyone else agrees to play nice too.”

Her gaze slid towards Crowpaw, and she cast him a pointed glare from the corners of her eyes. Crowpaw clenched his jaw to keep his building anger at bay, although it was bubbling dangerously close to the surface now. 

“Yeah, we should work as a team,” Brambleclaw rumbled. “It’ll just be easier that way.”

Crowpaw’s claws slid out as the final tether of his self-control snapped, and the surge of anger consumed him, clouding his mind in a furious haze.

“‘Easier?!’ Because we all lie down and obediently roll over as soon as you tell us to do so?” Crowpaw snarled, whirling towards Brambleclaw.

Brambleclaw’s brow furrowed.

“That’s not what I mea—”

“You just want us to agree to be agreeable, so that we will do what you order without complaint! You’ve been wanting to be this group’s leader since the moment we first gathered together,” Crowpaw hissed, not allowing Brambleclaw a chance to respond. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t! And, you’ve been using the fact that StarClan sent you the saltwater sign first as legitimacy! But, does that really mean that you’re the cat who’s the most well suited for the job?”

“But— let me guess— you are the cat suited for it?” Squirrelpaw’s sneering voice cut in.

Crowpaw’s muzzle whipped towards her with a growl.

“I’m not saying that I should be the leader. But, I am asking what gives Brambleclaw the right to be it?” Crowpaw snapped.

“Well someone has got to do it!” Brambleclaw hissed in exasperation.

“So you admit it!” Crowpaw said with a triumphant snarl, turning his blistering dark blue gaze back to Brambleclaw.

He sized up the large tabby tom, taking in his stoic face, set in only the slightest of frowns, and his amber eyes, glittering with annoyance. Crowpaw waited for an argument or some sort of defense, but Brambleclaw just remained silent, glaring at Crowpaw.

What? Does he expect me to just give in and let him walk all over me, bossing me around just because I’m younger than him? Does he only see me as some kind of troublesome apprentice?!

Crowpaw flexed his claws, the red haze of anger in his mind growing.

“That’s it then? You’re just power-hungry,” Crowpaw spat viciously.

Now real offense darkened Brambleclaw’s face, and he took a single, threatening step towards Crowpaw.

“I’m not,” he said in a voice so soft and low that it strained at the edges of Crowpaw’s hearing. “Take that back.”

The fur all down Crowpaw’s spine bristled. He’d seen Brambleclaw angry before, but this was the first time he’s ever looked so downright dangerous.

“Why should I? You haven’t said or done anything to prove me wrong,” Crowpaw snapped, bracing his paws against the ground to stop himself from shrinking back reflexively from the massive warrior.

“Crowpaw please. I think you’ve made your point,” Feathertail implored.

Crowpaw glanced over at her, meeting her blue eyes, round with distress, and he felt some of his anger fade. But, Feathertail’s words weren’t enough to calm Brambleclaw. A growl, as deep and low as the rumbling of a monster, emanated from him, and his normally warm amber eyes dimmed to something much colder.

“Brambleclaw. Snap out of it,” Tawnypelt said sternly, stepping fearlessly in front of her brother. “Don’t let him get under your fur.”

Brambleclaw blinked, his gaze drifting away from Crowpaw, and his shoulders sagged as he seemed to deflate down to a cat half his size when his eyes met Tawnypelt’s.

“I’m sorry,” Brambleclaw muttered to her. “It’s just that he said that I’m like Tig—”

Brambleclaw cut himself off abruptly, his ears going flat against his head. Tawnypelt brushed her muzzle against his cheek in a brisk, comforting gesture.

“I know. And, he’s got bees in his brain,” Tawnypelt said matter-of-factly.

Crowpaw’s pelt started to bristle again, but another glance at Feathertail stilled him. She was gazing at him with something akin to disappointment, and it made Crowpaw’s stomach churn. 

“Haven’t you already done enough?” her eyes seemed to ask.

Crowpaw turned his face away from her, staring down at the ground instead and kicking at a loose pebble with a paw. Maybe he was better off just ignoring all of them at the moment.

Moving aside, he started to slowly pad off in the direction they had been walking before. It didn’t matter that the others weren’t walking with him— they would catch up. It wasn’t like they appreciated his company anyway.

“So…” Squirrelpaw drawled sarcastically from behind him. “I’m guessing that’s a ‘No’ then on the team thing?”

Chapter Text

Another full moon shone its light down on the forest, and Mothwing found herself immensely excited for this Gathering as she and the rest of RiverClan approached Fourtrees. She could hardly keep still, rocking back and forth on her toes impatiently as they stood at the top of the slope, waiting for Leopardstar to give them the signal to descend. 

Mothwing’s gaze tracked over the small shadowy figures in the hollow below. The scent of ThunderClan and ShadowClan bathed her tongue from the breeze.

Is Leafpaw here? I hope so.

“Well this is a big change from last time,” Hawkfrost’s teasing voice broke through her thoughts.

He nodded towards Mothwing’s eagerly kneading paws in indication, and Mothwing purred.

“Last time, I wasn’t going to the Gathering as a proper medicine cat apprentice. Approved by StarClan themself!” Mothwing said, lifting her chin. “No one will be able to protest this time.”

Hawkfrost’s blue eyes creased in faint amusement.

“I’m happy for you sis,” he said.

“You must be excited too,” Mothwing added, trying to share her joy with her brother. “It’s your first Gathering as a proper mentor.”

One of Hawkfrost’s ears twitched back.

“Reedpaw didn’t get chosen to go to this Gathering,” he pointed out.

“But, you can still brag to warriors in the other Clans who are older than you and haven’t gotten an apprentice yet,” Mothwing purred cheekily.

Hawkfrost snorted in amusement. “True.”

He turned his eyes away from her, but Mothwing continued to gaze at her brother’s face. She had desperately wanted to tell him about Tadpole since her trip to the Moonstone a quarter moon ago, but Mudfur had advised her that it wasn’t proper to speak about her dreams to warriors, unless they were directly involved in the message StarClan sent.

I mean, Hawkfrost was in my dream, but I still don’t quite know yet what Tadpole was trying to tell me. I hope he will speak to me again soon.

A little bit of worry punctured through her excitement. After the Moonstone, Mothwing had thought that things would be so much clearer for her from then on, now that she had the light of StarClan guiding her. But in the following days, she had still not figured out what it was that Tadpole had wanted her to see.

Although there are plenty of half-moons ahead. Surely Tadpole will speak to me again.

Anyway though, until that happened, Mothwing would be forced to keep the news that their brother’s spirit was in StarClan, watching over them, to herself.

Hawkfrost nodded towards Mistyfoot.

“She’s not going to be happy about this Gathering at least,” he commented, dropping his voice so their Clanmates couldn’t overhear.

Mothwing’s belly twisted with sympathy as she glanced over at her old mentor. Mistyfoot's normally rich blue-grey pelt was dull, like she hadn’t been grooming herself lately, and her tail hung low behind her, dragging lightly across the ground. 

Although Mothwing had to keep the information about Tadpole private, she had passed on the news that she’d learned from Leafpaw about Feathertail and Stormfur to Mistyfoot, and it had spread through the camp like wildfire, as gossip so often did. Now that the two siblings had been gone for so long, and they knew that they weren’t in ThunderClan, the hope that they would return was looking far more bleak. 

To say the least, Mistyfoot was not taking it well.

However, Mothwing hadn’t shared the fact that ThunderClan was also missing two cats— Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw. She had felt like Leafpaw had told her that piece of information in confidence, and she didn’t want to betray her new friend’s trust.

Leopardstar finally signaled for their patrol to descend, and RiverClan ran down the slope, entering into the clearing. As the RiverClan cats weaved into the crowd like schooling fish seamlessly navigating through water-plants, the nearby ThunderClan and ShadowClan cats greeted them cordially, or at least as cordially as could be expected from prickly, secretive ShadowClan. Mothwing turned to Hawkfrost.

“I’m going to go find Leafpaw,” she said.

Hawkfrost’s brow furrowed, his head tilting to the side.

“...Leafpaw?” he echoed in confusion.

“The ThunderClan medicine cat apprentice,” Mothwing explained, her tail-tip flicking with slight impatience. “I’ve mentioned her to you a few times before, remember?”

“Oh right.” Hawkfrost waved his tail dismissively. “Well I’m going to talk with some ShadowClan warriors. I want to see if they’re having problems with their border with WindClan too. But you go have fun chatting about plants or whatever.”

With an exasperated shake of her head, Mothwing departed from her brother, scanning the crowd. She quickly spotted Leafpaw’s light brown tabby fur as she sat a few tail-lengths away from Cinderpelt, watching her mentor as she spoke to Littlecloud, but not participating in the conversation herself.

“Leafpaw!” Mothwing called, trotting up to her.

Leafpaw glanced over, her eyes brightening and a welcoming purr rising in her throat when she caught sight of Mothwing.

“Mothwing! How have you been?” she asked.

“Good, but Mudfur has been keeping me so busy!” she meowed. “There’s so much to learn, I feel like I spend all day memorizing stuff. I got to help a little with Grasswhisker’s kitting at least, which was really cool. She had two sons.”

Leafpaw purred lightly.

“And, they’re all healthy I hope?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, she and the kits are doing really well,” Mothwing responded.

Mothwing heaved a sigh, taking a seat next to Leafpaw.

“But, lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my dream at the Moonstone,” she added. 

Leafpaw opened her mouth as if to say something, her brow furrowed, but Mothwing continued before she could.

“I’m not supposed to tell you about it, I know. I know,” Mothwing said with a wave of her paw. “Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just… I’d thought now that I’ve spoken to StarClan my connection to them would be so much deeper. But, there are times when I don’t feel any closer to StarClan than before I went to Mothermouth.”

Leafpaw’s whiskers twitched, and she let out a wry meow. “We all feel that. I think every medicine cat in the forest has felt it at some time.”

Mothwing’s claws flexed anxiously, a bit of dejection trickling into her.

“But, I mean, other medicine cats can commune with StarClan outside the Moonstone, right? Through dreams and signs, like the one Mudfur found about me. I guess I just thought things would be more clear after the Moonstone. That I would walk closely with StarClan everyday and always know the right thing to do and how to help others,” she said, her thoughts turning to Tadpole again and his mysterious request.

Leafpaw leaned over, stretching up on her toes to give Mothwing’s ear a comforting lick.

“StarClan only sends signs and dreams when they have something they need to share. But, they also let cats live their own lives,” Leafpaw said. “No medicine cat speaks to them all the time, although we each walk a bit closer to StarClan every day.”

Mothwing blinked, turning this information around in her mind. 

Oh… I’ve never really thought about it like that before. I guess it’s true that even though I’d like to understand StarClan better, I still wouldn't want StarClan controlling my whole life. 

Mothwing glanced over at Leafpaw again, feeling a flash of gratitude that she had this kind, experienced apprentice as her friend who could help her understand StarClan’s mysterious ways.

“That makes sense,” Mothwing said finally. “Although I do still wish that they could help me be more wise, like how you are.”

Leafpaw released a mrrow that sounded half surprised and half pleased.

“You think I’m wise?” she asked, her huge golden-amber eyes lifting to meet Mothwing’s.

Mothwing’s ears twisted back as she found herself suddenly slightly flustered.

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I know you’re still an apprentice, but I feel like you’re already an amazing medicine cat. Like, you always know the right thing to say. And, you’re also really nice.  And you just seem like you understand how StarClan works really well…” 

Mothwing closed her jaws as she realized she was rambling, but Leafpaw didn’t seem to mind. She just thoughtfully tilted her head to the side.

“But, you’re nice too. And, you’re passionate,” Leafpaw said. “And, as for knowing things about StarClan, that’ll come with time. You’ve only just started your training. One day though, you’ll be as wise as Mudfur!”

Mothwing started to purr, her chest warming. “I’d like that—”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by a yowl from the Great Rock. WindClan had arrived, and now all four leaders were perched on the massive boulder. Tallstar strode forward first, his long tail raised.

“Welcome all to this greenleaf Gathering!” he called. “I will start tonight's announcements.”

Tallstar turned to Leopardstar, dipping his head to her.

“First off, on behalf of all WindClan, I would humbly like to thank Leopardstar and RiverClan for their generosity in allowing us to drink from the river for this past moon.”

Despite Tallstar’s deference, Leopardstar’s tail lashed irritably from behind her.

“Does this mean you no longer require drinking access from the river?” she demanded, her tones clipped. “The drought has ended— it has rained several times in the past moon. Surely WindClan’s streams must be flowing again. You’ve broken the spirit of our agreement by allowing your Clan to continue to drink from the river despite this! Our river has not yet recovered from the drought, and its levels remain low. RiverClan needs all of its water.”

Tallstar blinked, his expression still cool in the face of Leopardstar’s outburst.

“The rain we’ve had has been enough to soothe the thirst of the parched earth. It has soaked up the water, but our streams are still mere trickles at best. Like the river, they have not fully recovered.” As he spoke, his face remained smooth and composed, but the tightness of the WindClan leader’s voice hinted at his annoyance.

Mothwing’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Is Tallstar saying that they still don’t have enough water on their territory to drink from? But, I saw a stream with flowing water just a quarter moon ago, on our trip to the Moonstone! That was more than a ‘trickle!’

Mothwing glanced across the clearing to Mudfur, wondering if her mentor would speak up and say anything, but the elder medicine cat was quiet, his expression neutral.

Leopardstar grunted in response to Tallstar’s argument. The WindClan leader gazed at her for a moment in silence as if waiting for a more articulate reply. When none came, he continued.

“WindClan still requires access to the river so that we may drink. We ask RiverClan to please let their generosity continue for another moon, allowing the moorland streams enough time to recover from the drought and fill with water again,” he said.

Mothwing stared at the WindClan leader, her eyes stretched wide with shock.

He’s lying! Tallstar’s blatantly lying!

Mothwing glanced around the clearing, hoping some cat would speak up. Would there be an honorable WindClan cat who would confess? Or had anyone else noticed WindClan’s streams besides the medicine cats? 

Mothwing bent down to whisper into Leafpaw’s ear.

“What’s Tallstar meowing on about? We saw that a WindClan stream had running water on the day of the half-moon, right?” she hissed in a low tone.

Leafpaw blinked up at her, her eyes round and troubled.

“Maybe the water has dried up since then?” she suggested, although her voice seemed hesitant.

Mothwing flicked her ears, unconvinced. Her gaze continued across the crowd. Many of her Clanmates looked displeased— Hawkfrost seemed like he was barely holding himself back from leaping to his paws in protest. Mothwing’s gaze finally found Mudfur again, silently imploring him to say something. But, Mudfur remained silent, and so Mothwing reluctantly held her tongue too.

“...Fine,” Leopardstar said, grinding the word between her fangs as if it felt like nettles in her throat. “We will allow WindClan access to the river for one more moon. But, you best not abuse our generosity, Tallstar. The same stipulations from last time still stand.”

Tallstar dipped his head to her again.

“I understand, Leopardstar. Thank you,” he meowed, taking a step back to signal the end of his announcements, but Leopardstar wasn’t quite finished.

“And, there will be guards posted around the twoleg bridge to ensure WindClan does not stray beyond where they are supposed to,” she added, her tone sharp.

Tallstar’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you anticipating that we will break our word?” he asked cooly. “The Clans have all allowed peace and honor to guide our actions for many seasons now.”

Well, Hawkfrost has already found WindClan scents beyond the boundaries of the bridge. Mothwing thought sourly in response.

“I just want to be careful,” Leopardstar said, her voice taking on a sickly-sweet edge. “If the moors are really as dry as you claim, prey will have likely gone to shelter in wetter low-lands, like our territory near the river. Although you are an honorable cat, Tallstar, there could perhaps be some unruly young warriors in WindClan who see prey in RiverClan territory and become tempted. I’m just trying to prevent a problem before it happens. Surely you can’t protest that?”

Grumbles rose from WindClan at Leopardstar’s thinly veiled insult, and the WindClan deputy, Mudclaw, gave an especially loud hiss. However, Tallstar’s ears just twitched like Leopardstar was an irritating fly, buzzing around his head. After a moment, he finally gave a curt nod in response.

“Good,” Leopardstar said with a smug twitch of her whiskers.

Indignation at Tallstar’s deceit still bubbling in her, Mothwing swept her gaze over the other leaders, wondering if they would have something to say about the obviously brewing conflict between RiverClan and WindClan. Blackstar’s eyes were half-lidded as if the quarreling between Leopardstar and Tallstar just amused him, while Firestar simply looked relieved that a worse argument had been averted.

Blackstar rose to his paws and strode to the front of the boulder to speak next once everything had settled down between Leopardstar and Tallstar.

“I bring unfortunate news,” he began without preamble, his voice gruff. “First, there is more than usual twoleg activity on the thunderpath that borders ShadowClan and ThunderClan, which I’m sure ThunderClan has also noticed.”

Firestar dipped his head in agreement. 

“They are bringing more monsters to the thunderpath too,” Blackstar continued. “And, we think the twolegs or their monsters may have killed one of our warriors, Tawnypelt. She went missing a little over a quarter moon ago. We haven’t been able to find her body, so twolegs seem most likely to have been responsible.”

“That is odd,” Firestar spoke up quickly, rising to his paws. “Around the same time, the warrior Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw, an apprentice, vanished from ThunderClan. But, we have reason to believe that they are still alive, and that they may not have gone alone. Have any other warriors gone missing from any of the Clans?”

Exclamations of surprise rose up from the crowd of cats, many of whom started to exchange curious glances at this news.

“An apprentice of ours, Crowpaw, went missing around then too,” Tallstar said after a hesitation. “We’d thought that he may have been killed by a fox or badger, but I suppose it’s possible he is with your cats.”

A muffled gasp came from a few fox-lengths away from Mothwing. She glanced over and saw a skinny, grey WindClan she-cat gazing up at Tallstar and the other leaders, fervent hope shining in her blue eyes. She looked familiar, like Mothwing had seen her before drinking from the river, but she couldn’t recall the she-cat’s name. 

“RiverClan is also missing cats, Feathertail and Stormfur,” Leopardstar added icily but without hesitation— she knew that Mothwing had told Leafpaw about them, after all. “Although we’d at first assumed that they had gone to ThunderClan to be with their father.”

Mothwing’s brow furrowed. That meant there was at least one cat from each Clan missing. Why had they left? And, were they really all together as Firestar suspected? The strangely similar timing did seem to indicate so…

“Are you certain that these cats are missing and not dead?” Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy, asked.

Mudclaw nodded in agreement with the ShadowClan deputy.

“My apprentice would have no reason to leave WindClan,” he growled.

A worried murmur rose up from the crowd. 

“Maybe something is picking us off one by one!” Dawnflower cried, her voice shrill with fear.

“Could it be dogs?!” A ThunderClan cat with one eye hissed, her ears flattening down against her skull in terror.

The murmurs turned to hisses and yowls. Some cats were on their paws, their pelts bristling as if readying to flee.

Firestar paced to the edge of the Great Rock, lifting his voice above the fearful cries.

“We wondered about predators too,” he meowed. “But there are none of the signs we would expect to see in the forest. I am sure these cats must have left of their own accord.”

For a heartbeat, Firestar’s eyes flickered right to Leafpaw, and the two seemed to exchange a knowing look before Firestar swept his gaze over the clearing again, watching as cats slowly sat back down, although plenty still looked uneasy. 

Mothwing’s pelt prickled with intuition. She glanced over at Leafpaw from the corner of her eye, but Leafpaw was studying her white paws intently instead of looking at her. 

She must know something more about the missing cats than she’s letting on, and that’s why she also had a strange reaction when we talked about it at the half-moon… Maybe StarClan has sent her a vision of them?

Mothwing’s brow furrowed.

Why hasn’t StarClan shown this to me? Squirrelpaw is Leafpaw's sister, but Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt are my kin too...

“Are we sure these cats actually left?” Leopardstar’s skeptical voice cut in. “It is curious that all the missing warriors have ThunderClan blood, isn’t it? Could they just not be in ThunderClan?”

His shoulder fur bristling in offense, Firestar whirled towards the RiverClan leader.

“How dare you accuse me of lying when ThunderClan is missing cats too!” he snapped. “My own daughter among them! Why would I lie about that?”

Greystripe rumbled a low growl in echo of his leader, his bushy grey tail lashing with irritation.

“It doesn’t make sense for ThunderClan to be harboring the cats,” Tallstar added in agreement with Firestar. “Crowpaw has no connection to ThunderClan, so why would he go there?”

“What reason would these cats have to leave together with no explanation?” Leopardstar fired back, her golden-spotted fur rising slightly in defensiveness. “This whole thing makes no sense! I’m just trying to find some kind of logical connection, and the only obvious one is ThunderClan! Sure, maybe Crowpaw has no direct connection to ThunderClan, but WindClan and ThunderClan have been close allies for seasons! Who’s to say that a WindClan apprentice wouldn’t feel right at home there?”

“Watch your tongue, Leopardstar!” Mudclaw snarled, leaping to his paws, his short brown fur bristling as he glared up at the RiverClan leader. “WindClan is not ThunderClan’s plaything, and if you imply so again, you’ll see my claws!”

“Mudclaw, sit down,” Tallstar hissed.

“I know my warriors, Tawnypelt included, are loyal only to ShadowClan,” Blackstar cut in over Tallstar, his orange eyes narrowing critically as he swept a harsh gaze up and down Leopardstar. “Honestly Leopardstar, if you are so convinced that your warriors would so easily abandon RiverClan to go to another, maybe instead of accusing everyone else you should look inward— towards your own leadership.”

Spitting furiously, Leopardstar sprung to her paws, her tail lashing behind her, and several RiverClan cats yowled out in anger, echoing her. Mothwing glanced over, seeing that Blackclaw and Vixenleap had leapt to their paws and were whirling on some jeering ShadowClan cats. But, Mothwing’s eyes widened in fear as she noticed that Hawkfrost was also on his feet, his striped tail bushed out and whipping from side to side as he sized up Russetfur.

Worry lurched in Mothwing’s belly as she stared at her brother. His claws were unsheathed and glinting in the moonlight.

You can’t attack ShadowClan’s deputy in the middle of the Gathering!

“I won’t sit here and take an insult like that to my face!” Leopardstar snarled at Blackstar, shoving her muzzle so close to Blackstar’s own, their whiskers almost brushed. “RiverClan! We’re done here!”

Leopardstar sprung off the boulder, summoning her Clanmates with a wave of her tail. Relief rushed through Mothwing as Hawkfrost reluctantly turned away from Russetfur, coming to Leopardstar’s call. Mothwing rose to her paws to do the same, meowing a hasty goodbye to Leafpaw before rushing to catch up with her Clanmates as they left the hollow.

Hawkfrost’s blue eyes were blazing as Mothwing reached his side.

“The gall of the other leaders to challenge RiverClan like that!” he spat, his tail still thrashing from side to side in a frenzy. “Just because Leopardstar was making a reasonable point about the missing cats’ connection to ThunderClan! Can you believe it?!”

Mothwing’s ears twitched uncertainly.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, dropping her voice so none of their Clanmates would have the chance to overhear. “Saying that Firestar would lie about his daughter being missing was kind of minnow-brained.”

Hawkfrost’s muzzle whipped towards her, and he released a furious, wordless hiss, making Mothwing recoil from him in surprise. 

“Do you seriously think that the other leaders wouldn’t lie to get ahead?” Hawkfrost snapped. “How naive are you?! If the missing cats are in ThunderClan, they will have just gained four new warriors, while the other Clans lost some. Why would Firestar want to advertise that?!”

“I don’t know if I totally trust Firestar, but I trust Leafpaw,” Mothwing said hotly, her voice taking on a harder edge as she defended herself. “She told me that Feathertail and Stormfur aren’t in ThunderClan, and I believe her. But, I’m not naive! I mean, clearly Tallstar was lying through his teeth tonight!”

Hawkfrost’s eyes flashed with interest, his anger fading to be replaced by an almost equally intense curiosity.

“‘Lying through his teeth?’ What are you talking about?” he demanded in a low voice.

Mothwing shifted her weight from paw to paw uneasily, remaining silent for a bit as the patrol reached the river and swam across. As far as she could tell, Mudfur had still not mentioned what they had seen of the WindClan stream on the half-moon, so maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all. But, it was much too late for her to take her words back now.

Hawkfrost was still staring at her in that same intent way when they reached the opposite bank and continued on their way back to camp. Mothwing sighed, finally acquising.

“A quarter moon ago, when I went to the Moonstone,” Mothwing muttered in a quiet voice, “we walked by one of the WindClan streams. It had flowing water in it.”

Hawkfrost’s pelt bristled out like a pinecone, fury lighting in his eyes as he turned on Mothwing, blocking her path and stopping her in her tracks, allowing the others in their patrol to pull ahead.

“What?!” Hawkfrost hissed through his fangs, sinking his long, curved claws into the ground. “You knew WindClan has had water for the past quarter moon, and you haven’t said anything about it until now?! Are you serious?!”

Mothwing’s ears flattened against her head at his harsh rebuke. She stared at her brother, her belly churning anxiously. She knew Hawkfrost could have a temper sometimes, but she could hardly remember the last time he had looked so outraged towards her.

“I… I didn’t see a point in saying anything before!” Mothwing stammered, trying to defend herself from his searing, accusative gaze. “I wasn’t sure if it was my place to, and besides, Leopardstar made that agreement with Tallstar to allow WindClan to drink from the river for the entire moon, so technically, WindClan had been doing nothing wrong before—”

“You fish-brain!” Hawkfrost exploded, raking his claws through the damp earth for emphasis. “‘Nothing wrong?!’ They’ve been exploiting a RiverClan resource for their own gain, and you were just going to let Tallstar do so for a whole other moon!”

“I wasn’t—” Mothwing attempted, crouching slightly under Hawkfrost’s verbal barrage.

“I can’t believe my own sister would do this!” he hissed, barreling over her words. “We must inform Leopardstar about WindClan immediately!”

“Hawkfrost—!” Mothwing began again, trying to explain.

But, her brother had already whirled around and raced off after the rest of their patrol and their leader.

Chapter Text

The full moon hung heavily over the horizon, glowing rosy in the predawn light. Crowpaw gazed at it, wondering if any of his Clanmates back home were looking up at it too.

The Gathering was last night, the first one since we left. I wonder what the Clans all think about us being gone… Do they know it was StarClan who sent us away? Or do they think we all just ran off?

Crowpaw felt a sharp pang in his chest as a wave of homesickness swept over him. Every hair on his pelt quivered with longing— he missed the scent of sweet heather on the breeze. He missed the sounds of the morning hymns sung by the elders, and talking with his mother. He missed the reassuring regularity of patrols and hunts. 

Even Mudclaw’s harsh mentoring and Nightcloud’s taunting now had an odd sort of appeal. He may not enjoy their company, but at least he always knew what to expect from them. Not like this endless series of misadventures.

But, does anyone in WindClan miss me?

It wasn’t like he was ever the most popular or friendly cat in the Clan. Why would they care that the whiny apprentice who could never become a warrior was gone? Maybe they even felt like they’d freed themselves from a burden.

Crowpaw gave his ears a small shake, dislodging the thoughts.

I’m being rabbit-brained— of course Ashfoot would miss me at least. And probably Wrenflight. Maybe Whitetail... But, do they even know I’m still alive?

“A mouse tail for your thoughts?” 

Crowpaw glanced behind him. Feathertail had woken from their makeshift campsite under some bramble bushes and was padding over to him. Crowpaw was the only other one awake, keeping guard for this shift, but he knew that they would have to wake the others soon and head out once they had enough sunlight to navigate by.

Feathertail reached his side, taking a seat, and her head angled in his direction ever so slightly as she waited for his response. Crowpaw sighed sharply, lifting his eyes to the moon again.

“Just missing home, I guess,” he muttered.

Feathertail nodded thoughtfully in response but remained quiet. 

That was something Crowpaw appreciated about her. She never tried to talk down to him like the others in their little traveling group did, by telling him he was wrong to feel some way, or to just shut up and get over it. But, she didn’t coddle him either as if he was some kind of fresh-eyed apprentice who still had kit-fluff behind their ears.

“Do you think you feel that especially strongly because everyone else here already had a connection to each other through our ThunderClan blood? So you feel left out?” Feathertail asked suddenly.

Even though her tone was gentle, Crowpaw could feel his shoulders tensing as he grew defensive and prickly. 

Just because he appreciated her company more than the others didn’t mean that he was willing to divulge his every private emotion!

Crowpaw opened his jaws, about to tell her that the others in their group’s familiarity to each other was irrelevant because he didn’t care about being friendly with them anyway. But then, Feathertail was continuing before he could speak.

“I understand what that’s like,” she admitted, her eyes downcast and not nearly as bright as normal. “Most of the time, back home, I feel like an outcast in my own Clan.”

Her declaration rattled Crowpaw so completely that his jaw fell open in stunned, silent shock for a moment.

What? Feathertail? But… she’s almost a perfect cat! Why would anyone dislike her?

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Crowpaw blurted out. “You’re a great warrior, and you’re smart and really nice. Why would your Clanmates not like you?”

Once the words had left his mouth, Crowpaw’s ears grew hot as his brain caught up to what his mouth had just said. 

Had he really just exclaimed so many compliments right to Feathertail’s face? 

Why was he such a rabbit-brain?

Crowpaw looked away from her quickly.

“Er— I mean— Um, I guess that’s what I’d think at least. If— if I was a RiverClan warrior,” Crowpaw stammered, trying to recover some scrap of dignity. 

Ugh, I’m an idiot! I guess I’m just lucky that I didn’t also blurt out that she’s pretty! Then I’d actually have to just never speak to her again!

To Crowpaw’s relief, his comments must not have been too disastrous because Feathertail began to purr, making him glance back up at her.

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” Feathertail murmured, her ears angled back shyly as she avoided looking directly into his eyes. “But, it’s true. Although, I admit, I’m usually the one avoiding my Clanmates. Not the other way around.”

Crowpaw’s ears flattened in confusion. The way Feathertail was describing herself back in RiverClan was so different from the cat that Crowpaw had come to know on this journey that he could hardly imagine it.

“But, why?” he asked.

Feathertail’s face darkened, her soft purr dying in her throat. She lifted her gaze to meet Crowpaw’s eyes.

“It’s because of everything that happened in TigerClan,” she said in a low, flat voice.

Crowpaw’s stomach clenched at the graveness carved into her face. 

Crowpaw had been born after Tigerstar had already died, but like all the cats in the forest, he’d grown up hearing the horror stories.

“...When Tigerstar imprisoned you?” Crowpaw asked hesitantly, trying to recall his history lessons from the elders. 

Feathertail abruptly broke eye-contact, her claws flexing into the ground.

“This isn’t about Tigerstar,” Feathertail said, a hard edge to her voice. “It’s about the rest of them — my so-called ‘Clanmates’ who let them starve us, who didn’t protest when Tigerstar ordered our execution… who cheered when Stonefur died.”

Crowpaw’s belly twisted, bile rising in the back of his throat. He may not be that close to most of his WindClan Clanmates, but he couldn’t imagine them cheering for his death. And, then having to live everyday with those same cats— hunting with them, sleeping next to them, fighting beside them and having to trust that they’d defend you even though they’d already shown that they would leave you for dead if they had to…

“...I’m sorry,” Crowpaw rasped finally, once he was able to swallow back his horror and disgust enough to speak. “I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been… and how a cat would ever get over that.”

Feathertail’s whiskers twitched with bitter humor.

“Well, Stormfur managed it.” Feathertail sighed, shooting a glance over her shoulder and back towards her sleeping brother. “But, I guess he’s just a better cat than I am. More kind and forgiving.”

Crowpaw twisted his neck around to follow her gaze towards the large lump of grey fur, watching Stormfur’s sides rising and falling as he slept peacefully.

“You’re plenty kind. But, if those cats don’t deserve your forgiveness, you shouldn’t have to give it,” Crowpaw responded, shooting Feathertail a sharp glance from the corner of his eyes.

Feathertail’s gaze slipped over to his, and her face softened slightly as they made eye-contact.

“Maybe,” she said. “But, not forgiving makes it hard to live in RiverClan. I’m not sure if I will ever feel like I truly belong there.”

“But, you’re still going on this journey to help save the cats who would have let you die,” Crowpaw said slowly, his brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

Would I be able to do the same if my Clanmates betrayed me like that?

Feathertail arched a brow.

“Well just because they are a bunch of eel-hearts, doesn’t mean that I am,” she said wryly.

Crowpaw huffed in dry amusement, and his gaze turned away from her to skim over the others, hovering on Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt. They were curled up side-by-side, their striped flanks brushing so that the patches of dark brown tabby fur on Tawnypelt blended together with Brambleclaw’s pelt, the shades a perfect match.

“Is it weird being here with them? Because of Tigerstar?” he asked, nodding towards the siblings. “I know… or I mean, I’ve heard that Brambleclaw looks just like their father.”

“They’re not their father though,” Feathertail said confidently. “When Stormfur and I were just newborns, we actually were foster siblings for a bit— their mother Goldenflower cared for us. Then when we sheltered in ThunderClan again after TigerClan, Stormfur and I trained alongside Brambleclaw as apprentices.”

One of Feathertail’s ears twitched back.

“Brambleclaw’s appearance can be a bit… unsettling at times,” she continued with a slight grimace. “But, that doesn’t mean he and Tigerstar are the same.”

Crowpaw nodded in understanding. Feathertail rose to her paws, her back curving in as she stretched each hindleg behind her in turn.

“But, I think we should maybe go ahead and wake the lazy lumps now,” she said, her voice lightly teasing. “We’re wasting a perfectly good sunrise!”

Crowpaw meowed an agreement as Feathertail padded back towards the others, calling out their names.

Crowpaw gazed after her, feeling as if he was seeing in her a wholly new light. He watched as Feathertail shook Stormfur’s side with a paw before she turned to Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, and Squirrelpaw, sing-songingly calling out their names to wake them as she peeled back the clump of moss that Squirrelpaw was using to cover her face. 

“Please, just a little bit longer!” Squirrelpaw groaned, trying to cover her eyes with her paws now.

“Come on, Squirrelpaw— the early hunter catches the most prey!” Feathertail said.

“That’s not how it works in ShadowClan,” Tawnypelt growled, cracking an eye open to shoot Feathertail a poisonous glare, which Feathertail shrugged off easily.

“You’re not in ShadowClan right now, Tawnypelt,” Feathertail chided.

Do her Clanmates back home ever get to see this playful side of her? Crowpaw wondered, gazing at her.

The others were all reluctantly awake now— Stormfur was giving his pelt a hasty groom. Brambleclaw dislodged his drowsiness with brisk shake of his fur. And, Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw were leaning against each other as if that was the only way they were remaining propped upright, their eyes narrowed against the light and identical grumpy expressions on their faces.

Feathertail turned back to Crowpaw, laughter in her blue eyes and her tail held high and waving in victory. Crowpaw nodded back to her, a soft purr starting to rumble in his throat.

Is Feathertail actually happier here, stuck with us in the middle of nowhere, than she was in RiverClan?

They continued on their trek, the rising sun at their backs and their shadows reaching out far in front of them. It was another stretch of endless fields today, although this new day came along with new, unusual scents.

“What is that?” Squirrelpaw asked, her nose twitching almost violently as they came across a wide, well trodden trail reeking of animal. 

The grasses here had been worn away, leaving only dirt and mud, and large, odd tracks, shaped almost like a crescent moon.

“Horse,” Crowpaw answered curtly.

“Horse?” Squirrelpaw repeated, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Crowpaw sighed. Judging by her reaction when he explained about the strange appearance of the sheep, he doubted she’d believe him about this.

“They’re another animal twolegs bring to the moors sometimes,” Crowpaw muttered. “They’re massive, almost as big as a monster, and they have ‘hooves’ instead of paws, which are like rocks. The twolegs sometimes sit on their backs and use them to carry them around. The good news is that they’re not predators, so they won’t hunt you down. But they can easily kill a cat if they step on you.”

Squirrelpaw stared at him with huge eyes.

“...That’s so bizarre,” Stormfur said, his brow furrowed.

“Why would twolegs use an animal to carry them around?” Squirrelpaw demanded.

Tawnypelt shrugged.

“Why do twolegs do anything?” she answered.

“So you actually believe Crowpaw?” Squirrelpaw meowed in surprise, turning to stare at the ShadowClan warrior.

“You all should! I’m telling the truth,” Crowpaw snapped.

“...But you didn’t hear what he said the other day about sheep,” Squirrelpaw continued to Tawnypelt as if he hadn’t spoken. “He said they look like clouds with legs. That can’t be a real animal, right?”

Tawnypelt shrugged again.

“Why not? I’ve seen weirder things,” she said simply.

“Thank you, Tawnypelt,” Crowpaw said, shooting a sharp glance at Squirrelpaw. “Maybe this apprentice here should learn to listen to her elders.”

Squirrelpaw’s nose crinkled up as she stuck her tongue out at Crowpaw.

“Elders? Are you thinking of retiring already?” she quipped.

Crowpaw opened his jaws to retort, but Squirrelpaw continued before he could, “Well, I suppose it does make sense. You do act like a crotchety old cat trapped in the body of a young one.”

Crowpaw rumbled a low growl as almost everyone, annoyingly, Feathertail included, purred in amusement. Brambleclaw was the only one who was still quiet, although Crowpaw didn't find that surprising. In fact, Brambleclaw had been doing his best to ignore him for sunrises, since they had that big argument the day Squirrelpaw had gotten stuck in the fence. But, that arrangement suited Crowpaw just fine— the less of Brambleclaw’s patronizing, the better. 

Crowpaw's shoulder fur bristling, he met Squirrelpaw’s sparkling green eyes, about to tear into her, but as he opened his jaws to reply, it dawned on him that there had been no real venom in Squirrelpaw’s voice. She was teasing him, yes, but her intent didn’t seem malicious. At least, not this one time.

“Well… if I’m actually an elder, then I better get your respect from now on,” Crowpaw grumbled with a twitch of his tail. “You can start by giving me the first pick of freshkill.”

The purrs of his companions rumbled louder, and even Squirrelpaw released a startled mrrow of amusement. Crowpaw’s eyes flickered to Feathertail, and he found her gazing at him, a gentle purr vibrating in her chest. He met her bright blue eyes for a heartbeat longer before breaking eye-contact, his skin growing a bit hot beneath his pelt.

“Do my ears deceive me? Or, did Crowpaw actually just make a joke!” Squirrelpaw exclaimed, already reverting back to the obnoxious tone he’d come to expect from her.

Crowpaw growled in annoyance, his tail starting to swish as his anger reared back up. 

“The horses at least left us a nice trail to follow,” Brambleclaw interrupted. “This heads right in the direction we need it to. Let’s keep going.”

The group plodded along as the sun crept higher in the sky behind them, almost fully cresting the horizon and staining the sky around it the deep reddish-pink of rose petals. But, the peaceful sunrise didn’t last long; soon an odd bleating noise began to punctuate the still morning air. His ears perking up, Crowpaw lifted his muzzle to the breeze, and his nose twitched as he picked up the scent of sheep, cutting through that of horse.

His belly tightening with an unusual eagerness, Crowpaw took off without a word, sprinting down the horse trail and leaving his companions to let out surprised mews behind him. He reached the top of a hill, and in the grasses of the slopes beneath him was a whole herd of sheep, grazing peacefully, although a few nearby ones lifted their strange, long heads to cast Crowpaw a curious glance.

Crowpaw purred, triumphant, as the rest of the group reached him, panting slightly from the run they’d done to catch up.

“What is it?” Brambleclaw demanded. “Why’d you run off…”

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the nearby sheep. A few of them had taken a couple steps closer to the cats, their large, dark eyes peering out starkly in their white, fluffy faces.

“Holy StarClan,” Squirrelpaw breathed, her eyes stretched wide as moons. “Clouds with legs.”

Crowpaw whirled towards her.

“I told you! You didn’t believe me, but I told you so!” he crowed, almost gleeful.

Once Squirrelpaw was able to tear her eyes off of the sheep, she stiffly drew herself up to her full height.

“I’m a mature enough cat to admit when I was wrong,” she said haughtily. “I’m sorry for not believing you, Crowpaw.”

Crowpaw snorted.

“Oh, you’re going to have to do better than ‘I’m sorry.’ You owe me,” he said. “You thought I was joking about the freshkill before, but now you better give me first pick.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.

“Owe you?” she echoed. “Why do I owe you?”

“Well, it was because of you arguing with me about the sheep that the rogues were alerted to us. So you have to make it up to me,” Crowpaw meowed smugly.

Squirrelpaw bristled.

“Fat chance!” she snapped. “Maybe you can catch my food instead, since you’re the one that baited the rogues into attacking afterwards!”

Crowpaw’s pelt started to rise in anger as his smug amusement faded.

“Okay, I don’t think there’s any point in having this argument again,” Feathertail said, her gaze flicking between Crowpaw and Squirrelpaw.

“Yeah? Maybe we can just keep walking?” Stormfur broke in, his mew nervous. “The sheep are kind of weirding me out.”

Crowpaw glanced back at him and his irritation towards Squirrelpaw was immediately forgotten as instead, he snorted with amusement as he saw Stormfur totally surrounded by four curious sheep. Stormfur’s long, grey pelt had fluffed out so he looked twice his size, and his bushy tail was held low, almost tucked fearfully between his legs.

“They’re not dangerous, right?” Stormfur asked, his gaze not leaving the sheep as they drifted even closer to him.

“They’re not,” Crowpaw confirmed, swallowing back a purr at Stormfur’s predicament.

Feathertail, however, had no such reservations, and she chuffed loudly, her eyes shimmering with amused delight as she gazed at her brother.

“You’re so fluffy, Stormfur, they think you’re one of them!” Feathertail called out. “Maybe you should ‘bah’ back!”

“I don’t know if that’ll work,” Stormfur said, shrinking away as one of the sheep bent its muzzle towards his back to give him a sniff.

Tawnypelt padded up to the sheep as well, her nose wrinkling as she got within a couple of tail-lengths of one.

“You’d think that something that looks so much like a cloud wouldn’t smell so foul,” she said.

“Well, maybe clouds smell bad,” Squirrelpaw pointed out, now purring loudly with amusement as well. “They’re so high up in the sky, we’ll never know.”

“We should really keep going, guys,” Brambleclaw called, having already padded a bit farther down the trail. “Stop messing around with the sheep.”

Crowpaw gazed after Brambleclaw, his fur bristling with defensiveness. The ThunderClan warrior had already gotten it into his head that he was so much better than everyone else; Crowpaw didn’t also want him thinking that Crowpaw wasn’t taking their mission from StarClan seriously!

“I’m trying!” Stormfur responded, an edge of desperation to his voice as he again attempted to slink around the sheep encircling him.

Crowpaw glanced back at Stormfur, annoyance appearing to replace his former amusement towards his plight.

“The sheep are stupid. Just push past them,” Crowpaw snapped.

“I’ll help you, Stormfur,” Tawnypelt said, trotting up to the sheep that surrounded him.

She bushed out her fur and arched her back. Giving a menacing hiss, Tawnypelt took a swipe at the nearest sheep’s side, pulling out a pawful of wool from its pelt. 

Bleating in alarm, the attacked sheep stepped backwards from the snarling ShadowClan warrior, bumping into one of its companions. Fear rippled through the entire herd, and they quickly turned tail. Squirrelpaw released a yowl of surprise as one of the sheep near her almost ran her over as the herd hurried off, but the apprentice managed to spring out of its way in time.

“Thanks,” Stormfur panted to Tawnypelt as they ran up to the others, now freed from the ring of sheep.

“No problem,” Tawnypelt mewed simply.

“But, you didn’t have to cause a stampede!” Squirrelpaw protested, giving her dark ginger fur a shake. “I could’ve been trampled! Totally squished!”

“But, you weren’t,” Tawnypelt pointed out, her whiskers twitching in faint amusement.

Squirrelpaw just huffed in response. Crowpaw’s gaze drifted back towards the horse trail and Brambleclaw as he pulled farther away down the hill.

“Come on now before Brambleclaw leaves us all behind,” Crowpaw grunted.

The rest of them caught up to Brambleclaw quickly, who just responded to the reappearance of his companions with a twitch of an ear. Crowpaw growled softly to himself, his tail-tip twitching in irritation. Brambleclaw’s self-righteousness really ruffled his fur the wrong way sometimes.

“Is something wrong?” Feathertail asked, shooting Crowpaw an astute glance.

“Nothing,” he grunted.

But, then he paused, his brow furrowing as something suddenly did seem amiss. The ground under his paws was trembling, and his ears pricked as he picked up a steady thudding sound, slowly growing louder. Feathertail stopped walking as well, her ears twisting backwards.

“What’s that?” she mewed, a worried edge to her voice.

Crowpaw didn’t respond, but his gaze did follow the trail back the way they’d came, his eyes tracking up the hill, skimming over where the sheep had moved some distance away as he searched for the source of the noise. His gaze settled at the top of the slope on the horse trail, and Crowpaw’s pelt bristled out as the pieces all at once clicked in his head.

“Move! Off the trail!” Crowpaw yowled, giving Feathertail’s shoulder a hard nudge with his own in the direction towards the grasses. 

“What?!” Stormfur said, bewildered, but the urgency in Crowpaw’s voice had been enough to prompt him to follow Crowpaw’s direction, and he was bounding towards the edge of the path.

“Horses!” Crowpaw hissed. “Everyone go!”

He then also gave Tawnypelt a shove to prompt her forward too before shooting for the safety of the grasses behind her. The pounding of the horses’ hooves was deafening now, and a large shadow was suddenly cast over them. Crowpaw shot a rapid glance towards the top of the hill where several horses were cresting, the silhouettes of twolegs on their backs. The twolegs whooped and yowled as they thundered down the trail, heading straight towards them.

“Squirrelpaw!” Brambleclaw shrieked suddenly.

Crowpaw wrenched his neck around to look behind him. Squirrelpaw was still on the trail. One of the deep grooves carved by the horse prints had tripped her, and she was just now stumbling back to her paws, her pelt bushing out in absolute terror as she noticed the horses and their twolegs baring down on her.

Brambleclaw was already lunging back towards her, but Crowpaw was closer, and he was faster.

Crowpaw found himself haring towards Squirrelpaw before his brain had even fully processed the fact that he’d turned around. He collided with her flank, carrying the smaller cat off of her paws, and they went tumbling across the trail and into the grass on the far side. 

Crowpaw’s ears flattened against his head, his eyes screwing shut as the world turned into a storm of pounding hooves and huffs and snorts, and a whirlwind of brown and black fur as the horses galloped by. 

StarClan please don’t let them crush us!

But, only a few moments later, it was over. Crowpaw’s skull had not been caved in by a rock-hard hoof, and the thumping faded as the horses and their twolegs continued down the trail, leaving only swaying grass and fresh prints in their wake.

Crowpaw blinked his eyes open, and the first thing he noticed was that he was still half-sprawled over Squirrelpaw’s auburn side after tackling her out of the horses’ way. His pelt prickling self-consciously, he quickly scrambled off of her, but he found himself biting back a hiss of pain from the motion. During the frantic rush, he must have twisted one of his forepaws.

Grumbling, Crowpaw decided to relinquish himself back to the ground, flopping there for a few moments longer to allow the pain in his throbbing paw to ebb and for his racing heart to slow.  

Squirrelpaw’s chest heaved up and down in massive breaths as she stared at Crowpaw from a tail-length away, her green eyes as wide as moons.

“You just… saved me?” she rasped between pants.

Squirrelpaw’s tone was soft and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Yeah. I guess I did,” Crowpaw growled. “Don’t make me do it again.”

He rolled to his feet, a groan hissing between his clenched fangs as he put the paw he wrenched onto the ground and hesitantly placed his weight on it. Thankfully, it seemed only bruised, not sprained or broken.

“Squirrelpaw! Oh thank StarClan!” Brambleclaw gasped, sprinting across the trail and rushing to the still-prone apprentice’s side, the others following him.

He shoved his muzzle into Squirrelpaw’s ginger fur, searching for wounds.

“Are you alright?” he demanded.

“Yes! Stars, get off of me! You’re fretting like a nursery queen,” Squirrelpaw hissed.

Her annoyed tone made her sound much more herself, although the words still wavered, betraying how shaken she truly was.

Squirrelpaw pushed herself up to a seated position, brushing Brambleclaw away with a wave of her tail. Brambleclaw stared at her, his bristling pelt slowly flattening as his terror seeped away. He exhaled a heavy breath, giving his head a small shake.

“Firestar would never forgive me if I let something happen to you,” he said.

Squirrelpaw’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m so glad that you’re more concerned about what my father would think if I died— rather than actually concerned about me dying,” Squirrelpaw said scathingly.

Brambleclaw lightly cuffed her around the head, making her squeak with indignation.

“Mouse-brain! You know that’s not what I mean,” he rumbled.

Squirrelpaw flattened her ears.

“Whatever,” she muttered, as if she hadn’t yet recovered enough to properly get into a row with him.

“Are you okay too, Crowpaw?” Feathertail asked, turning concerned blue eyes onto him.

Crowpaw gave his pelt a quick shake to dislodge the dust.

“Fine,” he muttered curtly. “Just twisted my paw a bit, but I’ll survive a sore foot.”

“That was really brave of you,” Feathertail added, the worry in her eyes being replaced with a shimmer of admiration. 

Stormfur nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” he said. “You were so fast, I didn’t even know what’d happened at first.”

Crowpaw’s ear-tips heated at their praise, and he shuffled his paws, unsure of how to respond.

Brambleclaw glanced at him too. Although Brambleclaw had refrained from speaking to Crowpaw directly, or even really looking at him unless absolutely necessary since their explosive argument, now for the first time, gratitude shone in Brambleclaw’s amber eyes when his gaze met Crowpaw’s, and maybe there was even a bit of respect glinting there too.

“Thank you, Crowpaw,” Brambleclaw said quietly.

Crowpaw’s ears twisted back, and he looked away from him.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

“Squirrelpaw! What is with you and almost getting trampled to death?” Tawnypelt demanded, whirling on her. “That’s two times in one day!” 

Brambleclaw’s brow furrowed deeply in concern.

“Wait. Squirrelpaw almost got trampled before this?” he asked, turning back to her.

Tawnypelt opened her mouth to explain, but Brambleclaw halted her by lifting one of his massive forepaws in a gesture to ‘stop.’

“Nevermind,” Brambleclaw said, giving a sigh and shaking his head. “I don’t want to know. Stars, you all will be the death of me.”

“No need to make such a big deal out of it,” Squirrelpaw grumbled, rising to her paws. “We all knew this journey would be dangerous. But, I’m fine. Crowpaw’s fine. Let’s just keep walking.”

For once, Crowpaw found himself agreeing with Squirrelpaw, and he nodded along as she spoke. Brambleclaw shot a glance from Squirrelpaw over to him, silently assessing them both.

“Are you sure?” Brambleclaw meowed. “We could also stop early for the morning and rest now. It’d be better to take it easy today than push through and possibly create a worse injury.”

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur bristled in irritation. 

Seriously, just why does Brambleclaw always feel like he knows best? Even when it comes to my own injuries?!

Squirrelpaw seemed to share his sentiment since she rolled her eyes.

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize you’d gone through moons of medicine cat when I wasn’t looking, Brambleclaw,” she said drily.

Crowpaw found himself swallowing back a huff of amusement, which he wasn’t quite successful with totally stifling. It at least attracted Brambleclaw’s attention, who shot Crowpaw a quizzical glance before looking at Squirrelpaw again.

“I just don’t want anyone getting hurt…” Brambleclaw started to explain.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” Squirrelpaw said, waving off his concern with a swish of her tail. “It’s just that I’ll tell you if I need to stop. And, I’m sure Crowpaw will have no qualms doing the same.”

Brambleclaw exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Alright, have it your way then,” he muttered.

“Let’s just not walk on this trail anymore,” Squirrelpaw said drily with a flick of her ears.

“Agreed,” Tawnypelt said and the others meowed their support along with her.

Stormfur shook out his thick, grey fur, shuddering slightly. “Yeah. I’m already sick of these stupid horses and sheep.” 

Chapter Text

“Mothwing.”

Mothwing jolted awake to the sound of Mudfur’s raspy mew and blinked the bleariness out of her eyes. Judging by the amount of light streaming into the den, it was late morning, but she still wasn’t caught up on sleep after the eventful Gathering last night. Mothwing lifted her head to gaze up at her mentor. He frowned down at her, his brow heavy with disappointment.

“Do you want to explain to me why Leopardstar called me into her den at the break of dawn, all riled up about WindClan’s streams?” Mudfur asked.

Mothwing blinked, her stomach sinking like she’d swallowed a rock as the argument she had with Hawkfrost after the Gathering came rushing back to her. He must have truly gone straight to Leopardstar as he’d said he would. Mothwing swallowed hard.

“Last night,” she began nervously, “I was upset about Tallstar asking to drink from the river for another moon, since I remembered seeing a stream with flowing water on WindClan territory at the half-moon. I mentioned that to Hawkfrost, and I didn’t ask him to talk to Leopardstar or anything like that… But I suppose he felt like she needed to know.”

Mudfur sighed sharply, his bushy tail sweeping behind him in long, irritated strokes.

“You should not have told your brother about this,” Mudfur scolded.

A bit of indignation sparked through Mothwing, and she shoved her paws under her, pushing up into a seating position.

“Why not?” she demanded. “Why would I keep something that could affect all of RiverClan to myself? Isn’t it clear that WindClan is just using this as an excuse to get onto our territory? They must be trying to steal our water and maybe also our prey, if they already have water on their own territory, right?”

Mudfur rumbled a soft, low growl.

“That may be what Leopardstar believes, but you do not know if that is the truth!” he snapped.

Mothwing winced faintly, her indignation fading. Mudfur was usually a patient cat, and he’d never raised his voice at her before, even if she made a minnow-brained mistake by mixing up some simple herbs. She must have really messed up if she had agitated him so much.

Mudfur sighed, his sweeping tail stilling as he calmed.

“Mothwing, you are talented at picking up herbs and remedies, but you still have a lot to learn about what it truly means to be a medicine cat,” Mudfur continued in a gentler tone. “We have a loyalty to each other, and we saw that stream on our journey to the Moonstone for a medicine cats’ meeting. Although yes, just because we have a loyalty to each other does not mean that we should always put other Clans above our own. But, it does mean we need to look at the world outside the narrow perspective of a warrior. What if Tallstar was telling the truth about WindClan’s need for drinking water? What if there’s something wrong with the stream, and they cannot drink from it? RiverClan knows from experience that it’s possible for twolegs to poison water and make it undrinkable— it’s happened to us in the past before. Or, what if in the past quarter moon, the hot weather truly has dried up the stream, and there’s simply nothing left?”

Mothwing ducked her head, shame making her ears hot. She recalled that Leafpaw had made a similar point as Mudfur’s last one at the Gathering, but Mothwing had been too outraged at Tallstar to listen to her at the time.

“I… I don’t know. I hadn’t considered all that,” Mothwing muttered, shuffling her paws.

Mudfur gently touched his tail-tip to Mothwing’s shoulder.

“And, you also need to consider, my dear young apprentice, that medicine cats keep the peace. We are healers, not fighters. We shouldn’t be the ones stirring up trouble between the Clans. StarClan knows that the warriors don’t need any help doing that!”

Mothwing glanced up again, and her clenched muscles loosened slightly with relief when she saw that a spark of humor had appeared in Mudfur’s eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Mudfur. I promise, next time I will do better. I’ll try to be a better medicine cat,” she said fervently.

Mudfur nodded, a reassuring purr beginning to rumble in his throat.

“There’s no real harm done,” he said. “Mistyfoot and I were able to talk Leopardstar off of the war-path. She’s still not pleased with Tallstar, but she won’t be leading any patrols to challenge WindClan.”

“Will they still be drinking from the river?” Mothwing asked.

Mudfur’s ears twitched.

“For now. But, personally, I doubt this treaty will last the entire moon this time,” he said.

Mudfur sighed, giving his head a small shake. “But, that’s a problem for another day. Right now we have work to do. I used the last of our juniper berries on Loudbelly last night, so we need to go gather some more. Do you remember where juniper berries grow in our territory?”

Mothwing nodded hesitantly as her mind scrambled to try to pull out that specific piece of information.

“Um. Juniper berries grow only in damp areas…” she said.

“Dry areas,” Mudfur patiently corrected.

“Oh. Right! That’s right. They only grow in dry areas, so they are a bit scarce on our territory,” Mothwing amended quickly. “But, there are a few bushes in the highlands that you’ve shown me before. ”

Mudfur nodded.

“That’s right. They are up in the beech copse, near the hollow where the apprentices do their training,” he said.

“I remember,” Mothwing said, a bit relieved as a picture of the evergreen bushes with their dark blue berries formed in her mind. 

The patch of them formed a segment of the ring of vegetation that encircled the apprentices’ grassy training hollow.

“Good,” Mudfur said. “Can you go out there and gather some of them?”

Mothwing’s ears perked up in surprise. This was the first time Mudfur had asked her to go find and gather herbs on her own. Mothwing lifted her chin, her tail curling up slightly in pride.

“Of course!” she said.

Mudfur purred softly.

“Excellent. Afterwards, meet me near the river bank. I’ll need your help digging up some comfrey root there.”

Mothwing nodded eagerly. After giving her pelt a hasty groom, she made her way out of camp, pushing through the reeds that ringed the island and slipping into the river. She sighed softly as the cool water lapped against her sides, taking the edge off the hot day. Kicking out strongly with her paws, she paddled across the river, emerging on the other bank. At a swift pace, she trotted inland, feeling the subtle slope of the ground beneath her paws as she rose in elevation to the drier parts of their territory. 

Mistyfoot had once told her of a time seasons ago when the river flooded, putting RiverClan’s entire island camp underwater and forcing the Clan to shelter in this part of their territory instead. 

Mothwing shuddered as she imagined how terrifying the flooding must have been. She could almost feel the sensation of the water clogging her nose and see the disorientating rush of bubbles, confusing what direction was up or down while she was buffeted around by the current, completely at the water’s mercy—

Enough!

Mothwing gave her ears a sharp shake, yanking herself from the memory, and she found herself standing back in RiverClan territory, her legs trembling and her claws clinging so tightly to the ground that they ached. Mothwing growled softly as she pried her claws from the earth. They had at some point unsheathed and dug themselves in on their own accord. 

She then inhaled deeply in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth just like Mistyfoot had taught her to do when she was a young apprentice— back when an errant wave knocking her under the water unexpectedly would trigger a rush of panic. She was much better at managing the attacks now, but they still snuck up on her sometimes.

It’s alright. She reassured herself. Tadpole is okay. He’s with StarClan now.

Mothwing exhaled slowly for a final time before continuing onward. As she trotted across RiverClan’s territory, she wondered if those bouts of panic ever bothered Hawkfrost when he swam like they did to her. Somehow, she doubted it. Her brother was always so strong.

Mothwing’s ears pricked at the sound of Hawkfrost’s voice, as if her thoughts had somehow summoned him.

“Go for the legs!” he was meowing in an excited voice. 

“Like this?” Reedpaw’s younger, higher voice responded, followed by sounds of light scuffling.

The ferns around Mothwing parted, and the training hollow opened up in front of her. She could see the juniper bushes she was after on the other side, but she hesitated at the edge of the vegetation, still hidden in the dappled shadows cast by the undergrowth. Hawkfrost and Reedpaw were alone in the training hollow, and he seemed to be teaching his new apprentice some rudimentary fighting moves. 

Reedpaw was practicing a low swipe at an imaginary target’s ankles, swiftly whipping his forepaw out in front of him so that it nearly skimmed the ground.

Hawkfrost shook his head, stilling Reedpaw.

“Think of it less of a swipe and more of a hook. Like you’re fishing for something massive,” Hawkfrost said.

He nudged Reedpaw’s side with his muzzle, getting his apprentice to move his legs into a wider, study stance.

“That’s it. Keep yourself firm, unmovable in the river’s current.” Hawkfrost mimicked the stance he was having Reedpaw hold. “Then reach out with one paw and aim for the ankles…”

Hawkfrost’s paw flashed out as if he was striking for a fish, his large forepaw hooking around one of Reedpaw’s ankles, then yanking the apprentice’s leg out from underneath him. Despite Reedpaw’s sturdy stance, the force of the pull knocked him completely off balance, and he flipped to the ground face-first, which, thankfully, was covered in a thick layer of moss that prevented any serious injuries. Hawkfrost had barely swayed after the attack, his other three paws keeping him exactly in place.

“Wow! That was incredible!” Reedpaw bounced right back up to his paws and shook scraps of moss from his ears while Mothwing breathed a sigh of relief that the hard blow hadn’t hurt him. “How’d you do that?”

“Strike for the weak points. Ankles. Knees,” Hawkfrost explained. “If your enemy isn’t expecting it and braced against it, you can pull them down completely.”

Reedpaw nodded hard, his green eyes shimmering.

“Can I try it on you?” he asked.

“Get the form of your hook-strike right first. Practice that move by yourself for a bit, then we’ll talk,” Hawkfrost said.

Reedpaw nodded again, his head bobbing up and down like an excited bird as he went back to swiping at the air. Hawkfrost’s head twisted away from him, his gaze tracking straight over to Mothwing. Swallowing nervously, Mothwing stepped out of the shade and into the clearing proper.

Did he know I was here the whole time?

Hawkfrost stalked over to her, his thick-furred tail twitching.

“Is there something you need?” Hawkfrost asked.

Any warmth that had been in his voice when he’d directed it towards Reedpaw had vanished, and now his tone was as cold as a leafbare morning. Mothwing’s ears flattened down.

He’s obviously still upset about last night.

Mothwing gave her head a timid shake.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” she mumbled. “I just came here to get some juniper berries.”

She nodded to the nearby bushes in explanation.

Hawkfrost followed her gaze over for a heartbeat before meeting her eyes again, although he didn’t speak.

“...It looks like your training with Reedpaw is going well,” Mothwing meowed, starting to feel a bit desperate to break the icy silence between them.

How long is he going to be mad at me for not telling him about the WindClan streams? I wasn’t trying to upset him by keeping it from him!

“He’s a good apprentice,” Hawkfrost grunted. “He’s eager to learn anything new and tries hard. He wants to be the best warrior he can be.”

Mothwing nodded, hoping Hawkfrost would elaborate, but he just fell silent again, his sharp eyes boring into her. Mothwing sighed, her claws worrying the mossy ground.

“Look Hawkfrost, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the WindClan streams right away. Can you please forgive me? I know you’re still mad,” she said.

Hawkfrost was silent for a few painful moments longer, but then he exhaled a long breath, his gaze dropping from hers.

“I know your intent wasn’t to harm us,” he said curtly. “And, Leopardstar talked with me this morning… She doesn’t want to do anything about it right now anyway. So I guess that’s that.”

But, as Hawkfrost spoke, his long, curved claws flexed out, carving gashes into the moss as if he was imagining sinking them into WindClanners’ pelts instead.

“...And you disagree with her decision?” Mothwing prompted.

“Of course I disagree!” Hawkfrost growled, his eyes flashing to hers again. “Mistyfoot and Mudfur talked her into it, and everyone knows Mistyfoot cares more about the other Clans than her own! She’s just going to let Tallstar continue to steal from us!”

“That’s not true.” Mothwing’s fur bristled slightly as she defended her mentors, former and present. “Just because Mistyfoot and Leopardstar have different leadership strategies doesn’t mean that Mistyfoot is disloyal. Besides, Leopardstar must like that she challenges her on these sorts of things— that must be why she named her deputy, right?”

Hawkfrost rolled his eyes, scoffing with impatience as if Mothwing had just suggested something entirely idiotic. “That’s not why. Leopardstar made her deputy because of TigerClan.”

Mothwing’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” she asked.

Hawkfrost frowned and motioned her in closer, dropping his voice so there was no chance of Reedpaw overhearing.

“Don’t you know? When Tigerstar took over RiverClan, Stonefur, Mistyfoot’s brother and RiverClan’s old deputy, was killed, right?” Hawkfrost said. “Then after TigerClan disbanded, Leopardstar named Mistyfoot deputy to make up for that… out of some kind of misplaced sense of shame, I guess. Of course, Leopardstar should have stopped Tigerstar from conquering RiverClan and killing Stonefur, but she shouldn’t have made Mistyfoot deputy to ‘fix’ that! Especially not when Mistyfoot’s qualifications for leadership are clearly lacking. After all, wouldn’t it be better for RiverClan to have strong, unified leadership? That would show that Leopardstar’s working hard to make us powerful!”

Mothwing stared at Hawkfrost in bewilderment. How did he know about all that? In Mothwing’s experience, any RiverClan cat old enough to remember TigerClan would only make a vague comment about those being ‘dark days’ for the Clan when prompted about it. Truthfully, they seemed about as eager to elaborate about TigerClan as they were to pull out all their own whiskers and claws one-by-one.

“Where did you hear all that?” Mothwing asked.

Hawkfrost snorted, rolling his eyes again.

“I actually talk to the other warriors, Moth. Maybe you should try it sometime,” he said.

Mothwing rumbled a low growl. Hawkfrost’s mocking tone was really starting to gnaw at the ends of her patience.

“Not all the cats in the Clan think the same as you and Leopardstar,” Mothwing argued stubbornly. “Like Mudfur! He’s the wisest cat in the Clan, and he believes Mistyfoot is right about WindClan.”

Mudfur even has StarClan on his side! That must mean that he’s right… Right?

Hawkfrost tossed his head, giving a dismissive huff.

“We’ll see,” was all he said in response, an oddly ominous edge to the words.

Mothwing’s tail began to twitch.

“I better get those berries,” she muttered. “Mudfur will be waiting for me.”

“And, I need to get back to training Reedpaw,” Hawkfrost said curtly.

Without another word, he turned aside and stalked away from her. Sighing to herself, Mothwing went to harvest the herbs, using her fangs to clip off tiny twigs with bunches of berries on the end so they would be easy to transport. But, as she worked, Hawkfrost’s words planted themselves in her mind like a stubborn weed, refusing to be dislodged. 

Was he actually right that all this conflict between Mistyfoot and Leopardstar went back to TigerClan and Tigerstar? Had it really just been Stonefur’s unfortunate death that had made Leopardstar feel like she had to make Mistyfoot deputy in reparation? …Or had something else happened between Leopardstar and Mistyfoot that Mothwing didn’t know about?

The thoughts continued to swirl in her head even as she headed back to the bank of the river with her haul of juniper berries, finding her mentor by the patch of comfrey as he’d said. He waved her over, giving a pleased mew at the juniper berries, and they quickly got to work clawing through the damp dirt to get to the roots. It was a tedious job to uncover the huge clumps of roots, although the muddy riverbank soil wasn’t difficult to dig through.

As they pulled up the roots, Mothwing silently tried to work up the nerve to bring up TigerClan.

“Mudfur, can I ask you something?” she asked finally.

“Of course. You can always ask me anything,” Mudfur meowed.

Although that brought Mothwing some comfort, she still hesitated, feeling the cool, slippery press of mud between her toes.

“What happened during TigerClan? I’ve never heard the full story,” she said, making herself force the words out. 

Mudfur paused his digging and went silent. He remained so for long enough that Mothwing finally glanced over at him to search his expression. He was staring out into the distance as if seeing something that Mothwing couldn’t.

“I’m not surprised,” Mudfur responded finally. “That was a difficult time. Most cats would prefer to forget than to talk about it.”

Mudfur then turned his gaze back towards her, and he suddenly looked very old and tired. Of course, Mothwing knew logically that Mudfur was an old cat. He’d been RiverClan’s only medicine cat for seasons before Mothwing started her training, and he’d been a warrior for seasons too before he switched paths. But, she’d rarely seen him look so beaten down and… haunted, a shadow masking the usual friendly glimmer of his amber eyes.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked. 

Mothwing flexed her claws anxiously, digging them deeper into the damp, loamy ground.

“It… just seems like something I should know,” she meowed hesitantly. “I understand that cats would rather forget about it, but I think it might still be affecting things in RiverClan... Causing conflicts.”

Her thoughts turned to Hawkfrost and his dismissal of Mistyfoot’s qualifications for deputyship.

“And, I’m gonna be a medicine cat, right?” Mothwing continued. “You were just saying that part of our job is to try to solve conflicts. So I guess I just…”

Mothwing’s voice trailed off as she concluded with a weak shrug. Mudfur sighed heavily.

“You’re right, of course.” 

Mothwing’s ears jutted up in surprise. She hadn’t expected Mudfur to so easily agree with her. Or, maybe she’d wanted him to say that whatever bloody stain Tigerstar had left on RiverClan was long faded... But, of course things couldn’t be that simple.

“Tell me. What do you already know?” Mudfur asked.

Mothwing fidgeted, trying to recall the fragments of conversations and gossip she’d heard throughout the moons since she arrived in RiverClan.

“Um… just that Tigerstar used ShadowClan to take over RiverClan and kill Stonefur, who was RiverClan’s deputy at the time,” Mothwing muttered. “Oh and um Mistyfoot and Feathertail and Stormfur might have also been hurt too, somehow in the takeover? I’m not sure.”

Mudfur sighed again, his eyes closing for a beat.

“Well, the first thing is Tigerstar didn’t ‘take over’ RiverClan,” Mudfur spoke slowly like the words were gravel in his mouth. “Leopardstar formed an alliance with him… She agreed to merge ShadowClan and RiverClan into TigerClan.”

Mothwing’s stomach sank like a stone.

Leopardstar, her leader, had willingly worked with Tigerstar? Given up her Clan to that tyrant?  

…That couldn’t be right. Well, Mothwing knew Tigerstar had been charming— after all her own mother had fallen in love with him. But, Sasha had been a loner who only saw a small side of him. How could she have known what Tigerstar had truly been like in the forest? But, Leopardstar had no excuse! She was RiverClan’s leader!

“Leopardstar… what?” Mothwing rasped, blinking hard.

“She thought she was doing the right thing to make RiverClan strong,” Mudfur explained, his face deeply troubled. “StarClan knows I did my best to stop her, but…”

Mudfur shook his head slowly as if weariness and regret physically dragged at the ends of his pelt.

“Anyway, once Tigerstar came in, he quickly ordered the imprisonment of half-Clan cats. He claimed that their ‘disloyalty’ from their ‘polluted blood’ made TigerClan weak. Those half-Clan cats were Stonefur, Mistyfoot, and their apprentices, Featherpaw and Stormpaw, at the time. He would later order their execution, although only Stonefur was killed since Mistyfoot, Featherpaw, and Stormpaw managed to escape to ThunderClan with the help of Firestar, Greystripe, and Ravenpaw.”

Mothwing’s stomach sloshed sickeningly, bile rising up in the back of her throat.

No wonder Feathertail hates me and Hawkfrost. Our father tried to murder her for no crime besides existing!

“And, Leopardstar agreed to all that?” Mothwing whispered, horror lacing her voice.

Mudfur winced briefly before turning to full force of his attention onto Mothwing, gently touching his tail to her side.

“You must understand, Mothwing, Leopardstar has learned her lesson, and she is deeply shamed by her actions. She will never let the things that happened in TigerClan happen again. You and your brother are safe here. You’ve seen how she’s fought with the other Clans to allow you to become a medicine cat. And, she’s never treated you or Hawkfrost badly, right?”

Mothwing blinked, realizing that Mudfur had misinterpreted the horror in her voice.

He thinks I’m worried about being persecuted because I wasn’t born in RiverClan.

Although a part of her was certainly disgusted and horrified by Leopardstar’s actions, a lot of her disgust also stemmed from the fact that she was the daughter of the real tyrant here— Tigerstar.

“The days of TigerClan are shameful days for all RiverClanners who lived through them,” Mudfur continued. “We could have all tried harder to help our imprisoned Clanmates… but many of us were too frightened for our own lives to speak out or do anything. There’s no changing the past now, though. We can only hope that we will all do better in the future and try to move on.”

So, that’s what Hawkfrost was saying. Leopardstar made Mistyfoot deputy because she was trying to make up for the mistakes she made which got Stonefur killed. But, Hawkfrost can’t be right that Leopardstar would have made Mistyfoot deputy just out of pity… Leopardstar is much too proud for that. She must also genuinely believe that Mistyfoot can help her make a better RiverClan.

Mothwing’s stomach turned uneasily.

Although Mistyfoot is a brave cat to agree to do so, after knowing what happened to Leopardstar’s first deputy…

Mudfur sighed, pulling Mothwing from her thoughts.

“Although, for some the scars may be too deep to fully fade. Sometimes I fear that Feathertail and Stormfur may have left us because of the events of TigerClan,” Mudfur admitted.

Mothwing blinked, the pieces of information clicking in her mind.

That’s right. Feathertail wasn’t just cold to me, but she was distant from almost everyone in the Clan.

“Feathertail never seemed to trust any of our Clanmates,” Mothwing muttered in agreement. “In fact, I don’t think I saw her even go on a patrol that didn’t also have either Stormfur or Mistyfoot on it. But now, knowing everything… I’m not sure that I can blame her for that.”

Mudfur nodded.

“It’s tragic,” he said. “But, if what Firestar said at the Gathering is true, and Feathertail and Stormfur are actually out there with cats from the other Clans for some other reason… then I pray that StarClan is watching over them and that they all return safe.”

Mudfur rose to his paws, his attention shifting back to the herbs.

“Anyway though, that’s all there is to that. And, I think we’ve collected enough here. Let's get these back to camp and start cleaning and drying them,” he said.

Mothwing nodded, standing as well. She’d gotten enough information about TigerClan that her mind was so full, she wasn’t sure that she could hold anything more in it right now, even if she knew what else to ask.

Mothwing grabbed the juniper berries and some of the comfrey roots. But, before she could pad away, she cast a final glance over her shoulder to check if she had left any herbs behind. Instead, she caught sight of the river’s surface through the dense waterside plants, and Mothwing’s thoughts about TigerClan were suddenly washed away by worry.

Why does the water level look so low?

Chapter Text

Crowpaw opened his stride, his paws thrumming across the earth as he ran. The world whipped past him in blurs of green and yellow, and if he didn’t look too hard at the type of grasses and lack of heather, he could almost imagine he was on the open moor. 

Although his breath came in and out in short, sharp gasps and his heart pounded against his ribs, his mind was quiet and calm, focused only on the motion of his body.

He wished he could run forever, but the body was a frustratingly fallible thing. Soon his legs were trembling with exertion, so he slowed his paws, dropping down from a sprint to a trot, even though the desire to continue urged him on.

I can’t be too exhausted for traveling later.

Panting, Crowpaw pointed himself back in the direction of their makeshift camp site and began walking to return to his companions.

The new moon had been the night before, so in just a couple more days, it would be an entire moon since they left. Crowpaw’s paws dragged with a bit of regret as he stared out towards the horizon.

If I stayed home, would I be a warrior by now?

Crowpaw found himself in an odd in-between place of both missing the moors and his Clanmates more fiercely than ever, and yet also not thinking about them as much as the journey and his companions consumed the entirety of his mental energy.

Things at least had become a bit more bearable within the group. Ever since Crowpaw had saved Squirrelpaw, her quips to him contained much less outright venom than they’d before— a change that certainly did not go unnoticed by him. 

The group hadn’t encountered any significant danger since then either, and so things had settled into a fragile equilibrium. They had a regular rhythm of traveling, hunting, and resting that was slowly starting to feel as normal as hunting and border patrolling had been back at home. There was still plenty of quarreling, to be sure, but nothing like the big blowouts that had happened at the beginning of the journey. Somehow, miraculously, everyone was kind of… tolerating each other?

As Crowpaw padded up to the holly bush that was acting as their shelter for today’s midday rest, he was greeted by Feathertail who sat outside the bush, their sleeping companions behind her and her plumy tail curled neatly around her paws.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked as Crowpaw approached her.

Crowpaw shrugged.

“I preferred to go for a run instead,” he answered.

Feathertail tilted her head to the side, curiosity shining in her sky-blue eyes.

“Why do you go run like that? You’re not hunting, and we already do so much walking everyday,” she said.

“Do RiverClan cats only go swimming when they need to fish?” Crowpaw responded, arching a brow.

Feathertail purred, a light and airy sound as pleasant as birdsong.

“You got me there,” she said.

His chest warming with contentment at her easy company, Crowpaw took a seat nearby her. But that easy contentment was quickly replaced by a rush of tension when Feathertail’s tail uncurled from around her paws and lightly brushed against his as she shifted its position.

Crowpaw stifled a shiver, his shoulders stiffening.

Stop it. He scolded himself fiercely.

“Seriously though,” Crowpaw mumbled, continuing. “I just like to run. I know it sounds weird, but it calms me down. Running is just the only thing that I think about when I do it. All the other thoughts in my head go silent.”

Feathertail nodded, her eyes round and thoughtful.

“I don’t think that’s weird,” she meowed. “I think it’s nice that you have something like that.”

Crowpaw’s shoulders loosened slightly, and he rumbled a brief purr.

“Is swimming like that for you?” he asked.

“Hm, maybe?” Feathertail mused. “It can definitely be relaxing sometimes.”

Crowpaw reached his legs out in front of him, stretching his tired muscles so they wouldn’t cramp up as they cooled.

“Anyway, what are you doing up?” he asked, his voice taking on a lightly teasing edge. “Still on a RiverClan sleep schedule?”

Feathertail rumbled a purr in response, but only for a moment before a shadow of sadness darkened her face.

“No, but I miss the sound of the river,” she admitted. “That’s what would lull me to sleep everyday back in RiverClan’s camp. It’s hard to rest without it.”

Crowpaw’s ears flattened. He understood the feeling. He also missed the way things were in WindClan’s camp— how he and his Clanmates would sleep under the wide-open sky. He hadn’t done that once since he and the others had started traveling. His companions always gravitated towards bushes to rest under instead, and truthfully Crowpaw did see the value in that. After all, it provided shelter from both the elements and predators, and unlike the well-trodden WindClan territory, they didn’t know what could be lurking out here. But, still, Crowpaw’s pelt did sometimes prickle with a bit of claustrophobia when he crawled under the low branches.

“It’s funny. I know we’ve been traveling for a while now,” Feathertail continued, pulling Crowpaw from his thoughts, “but sometimes things like that will just strike me all of a sudden.”

She shot a glance over at Crowpaw, one side of her mouth quirking up in a small half-smile.

“Like, Stars, I’d kill to have a bite of a fish right about now,” she purred.

That pulled a sudden, loud chuff of amusement out of Crowpaw. The idea that kind Feathertail would kill for a bite of something so slimy and scaly was just so utterly absurd.

“Are those the only things you miss from RiverClan? The fish and the river?” he asked half-jokingly.

Feathertail blinked, the amusement on her face fading as her brow started to furrow, and Crowpaw quickly found himself scrambling to explain.

“I just mean, from what you told me, you didn’t seem to have a great time in RiverClan. With your Clanmates and all… being uh— murderous,” he said, his pelt fluffing out in embarrassment at his awkwardness.

Fox-dung! Why can’t I just talk about things like a normal cat?!

“Oh,” Feathertail said, her frown deepening, and Crowpaw’s regret increased until he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth at all.

All I did was ruin her good mood.

“I miss Mistyfoot too,” Feathertail said. “She was my mentor and like a mother to me. She’s supported me through even the worst times.”

“I’m sorry,” Crowpaw muttered, staring down at his paws. “I don’t know why I brought this up. I didn’t want to make you upset…”

“It’s okay!” Feathertail meowed quickly. “I’m not upset at you.”

Crowpaw glanced over at her, his muscles loosening as a bit of relief started to trickle through him.

“You still don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to though,” Crowpaw said.

Feathertail paused thoughtfully for a moment, but then her gaze suddenly sparked with an idea.

“How about this… I don’t mind telling you about my life in RiverClan, but only if you tell me about your life in WindClan in return. You’ve hardly said a thing to me about it this whole time we’ve been gone! I’m starting to die of curiosity,” Feathertail said, a faint teasing note in her tone. “So do we have a deal?”

Crowpaw shifted his weight from one paw to another, his belly suddenly tight. He didn’t particularly want to talk about some part of his life in WindClan… but there seemed plenty in RiverClan that Feathertail didn’t necessarily want to talk about either. It really did seem only fair for him to agree, or else he’d just have to end the conversation entirely.

“...Alright,” Crowpaw murmured.

“Perfect,” Feathertail purred. “So you told me that your dad’s Deadfoot. Who’s your mom?”

“Ashfoot,” Crowpaw answered simply before launching into his next question. “Is Mistyfoot the reason you decided to stay in RiverClan despite everything that happened?”

Feathertail twitched her ears.

“She’s one of the reasons; Stormfur keeps me there too. But, there’s also a part of me that hopes one day RiverClan can be better than before... That maybe somehow we can do something to make it that way.” Feathertail’s eyes started to brighten. “I mean, I love how RiverClan could be. I love the water, and fish, and the stones and the shell decorations—”

“Decorations?” Crowpaw echoed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Cats in RiverClan decorate their dens and the camp with little pretty things like that— shells, feathers, pebbles. Anything that looks nice,” Feathertail explained. “It makes the whole place beautiful. But, you don’t do that in WindClan, right?”

Crowpaw shook his head, his mind whirling as he tried to imagine what RiverClan’s island camp looked like. WindClan’s camp must seem so plain and empty in comparison, especially since they had hardly any dens at all. But why would WindClan need to decorate their camp when they already had the beauty of the moors and sky to admire? 

Feathertail sighed.

“They don’t do it in ThunderClan either. I remember when I lived there, I just thought how everything seems so dull! And, that’s my point. The concept of RiverClan is beautiful, and I can see that beauty in the younger cats there, like Mistyfoot’s kits— Reedpaw, Primrosepaw, and Pikepaw. Since they’re untouched by the ugliness of the older generations, they’ll be able to shape RiverClan into all the majesty that it can be.”

“Well I’m glad you haven’t been miserable the entire time you’ve been in RiverClan,” Crowpaw said drily, a soft purr starting in his throat.

Feathertail answered with a purr of her own.

“Yeah. I guess it’s not all terrible,” she said. “Anyway though, I just talked your ears off about my life, so you better repay the favor.”

Crowpaw curled his tail closer to him, his amusement fading along with his purr as his muscles tensed with reluctance. But, he wasn’t going to break his word to Feathertail.

“What do you want to know?” Crowpaw murmured.

“We can start with Ashfoot,” Feathertail meowed, locking her brilliant blue eyes on him as she fixed him with all her attention. “What’s she like?”

“She’s the best hunter in WindClan,” Crowpaw meowed without hesitation. “She’s strong and brave and stoic and kind.”

Feathertail purred encouragingly.

“She sounds great,” she said.

“She is,” Crowpaw affirmed.

“Do you have any siblings?” Feathertail asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

One of Crowpaw’s ears angled back.

“No... Well— yeah, but they’re all dead. My parents had a litter before me— that’s Eaglekit, Molekit, and Mistkit— but they all died either during Brokenstar’s raids or during WindClan’s exile. Then I had two littermates, Hillkit and Downkit, but they didn’t live past a moon. Barkface said that the stress of Deadfoot’s death during Ashfoot’s pregnancy made them born weak. I was the only one that made it.”

As Crowpaw spoke, Feathertail’s ears flattened down and her eyes rounded in distress.

“Oh StarClan… I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Crowpaw meowed quickly. “I mean, it was horrible for Ashfoot and Deadfoot, I’m sure. But for me, I hardly remember my littermates, and I never met my other siblings… So you can’t miss what you never knew, right?”

But, as soon as the words left Crowpaw’s mouth, he knew that they weren’t totally true. He had still longed for his siblings many times despite him never properly knowing them. 

One of Feathertail’s ears angled towards him as if she sensed the half-truth in his words.

“It’s okay if you do,” Feathertail mewed softly. “Sometimes I miss my mother, Silverstream, even though she died giving birth to me and my brother… Sometimes I think not knowing makes things harder. Like, you’re always left wondering what it could’ve been like to be with them.”

Crowpaw glanced down at his fidgeting paws, unsure of how to answer her without admitting that he did actually really wish he had siblings and a father. And, that it was difficult growing up with only a mother who often seemed too distracted by her own grief to give him all the attention he craved.

“Yeah. I guess,” he muttered finally.

“...Well anyway,” Feathertail meowed quickly, as if changing topics because she sensed his discomfort, “why don’t you tell me about something else? Like your friends?”

Crowpaw continued to stare at the ground, his face carved into a carefully emotionless mask. Feathertail had no way of knowing this of course, but that was another thorny subject. 

His friends? How was he supposed to answer that? He could say Ashfoot, but she was also his mother. Whitetail, who was nice to everyone, could also be an option, but they weren’t actually particularly close. Nightcloud and Robinwing knew him better than her, and they were the cats nearest to his age… But, they had also taken it upon themselves to be Crowpaw’s bullies and rivals since they were kits— or at least Nightcloud had and Robinwing always followed her sister’s lead.

Crowpaw withdrew into himself, hardening his defenses as he finally made himself glance up at Feathertail, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Haven’t you heard from Squirrelpaw?” Crowpaw growled, putting a harsh, sardonic edge on his voice. “I’m too much of an annoying furball to have any friends.”

Despite the caustic tint to his words, Feathertail responded to him with a huff of laughter, making Crowpaw’s ears perk in surprise.

“I doubt that. Because I’m your friend,” Feathertail said drily. 

 Crowpaw blinked, surprised into silence for a moment. Feathertail met his gaze unflinchingly and arched a brow.

“What? Are you seriously going to tell me that I have bad taste?” she teased.

Crowpaw managed to rumble a startled mrrow of amusement, and the defensiveness that had cloaked him like brambles only a moment ago faded away.

“No,” he said. “Well… only about eating fish.”

Feathertail released a sharp mew of offense.

“That’s so rude! You’ve never even tried fish,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she rumbled a playful growl.

Crowpaw started to purr, his heart lightening.

“How about I catch you a rabbit instead, and you can find out what good food tastes like,” he said, the teasing words slipping from his mouth before he had the chance to even properly think about them.

“I have had rabbit before, you know,” Feathertail pointed out, rising to her paws. “But, I won’t turn my nose up at another one. Okay, let’s go.”

Crowpaw blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Feathertail to have taken his suggestion so literally. 

“Oh, now?”

“Why not?” Feathertail asked, flicking her tail. “I’m hungry, and those lazy lumps aren’t going to go anywhere.” She pointed her muzzle back at their still sleeping companions with a mischievous purr. “So we might as well get something to eat. And maybe if we’re feeling generous, we’ll surprise them with some freshkill too.”

“Alright,” Crowpaw said, his purr increasing in volume at the thought of hunting with Feathertail.

How loud his purr was rumbling in his chest was almost embarrassing, actually. But, Feathertail was purring too, her blue eyes as bright and clear as the sky above them, and Crowpaw felt his self-consciousness melt away.

Crowpaw led the way out into the fields, his muzzle held high to the breeze and his mouth open to catch even the faintest of scents. Luck was with him since the faint smell of rabbit drifted into his nose, and signaling for Feathertail to follow him with a flick of his tail, Crowpaw lowered his stance slightly to conceal himself better in the tall grass and got to work tracking the scent. Feathertail followed behind him, holding herself in a half-crouch as well. Her paw-steps weren’t quite as delicate as a WindClan warrior’s would be during a hunt, but she wasn’t doing terribly. 

Crowpaw turned his attention back to their prey as the rabbit scent grew stronger. Peering out through the tall stalks, he caught sight of it in the distance, peacefully munching on some grass, although its large ears were pricked and alert, twitching at any little sound. Crowpaw turned back to Feathertail.

“Okay,” he breathed. “It’s over there. I’m going to try to circle it and chase it down. But I’ll drive it towards you, so if it gets away from me, you can grab it.”

Feathertail’s eyes sparkled.

“Does it really count as you catching it for me if I help, though?” she whispered, her tail-tip twitching mischievously. “I thought WindClan’s speciality was chasing their prey to the ground.”

Crowpaw’s mouth opened as he tried to come up with a clever retort, but Feathertail’s playful, shimmering blue gaze was too distracting, and he found all of his thoughts fleeing his mind faster than a flock of startled birds.

Feathertail waved him off with a flick of her ears.

“You better get going before the wind direction changes, and it notices us,” she prompted, but her expression was still light-hearted.

Crowpaw closed his mouth and nodded, quickly turning to circle the rabbit, although he was careful to check which way the wind buffeted his fur so his scent wouldn’t waft straight towards it. 

When Crowpaw got into a decent enough position, he paused, flexing his claws to feel the dirt under his paws as he readied himself for the sprint. He couldn’t see Feathertail because of the dense grasses, but he had a good enough idea of her general area.

Although I hope I can catch the rabbit alone!

A desire to impress her mingled in his chest with a nervousness at knowing she’d be watching as Crowpaw took a deep breath and tensed his legs. 

He rocketed out of the grass towards the rabbit, his paws thrumming against the ground. The rabbit’s head jerked up in alarm, and in a flash, it had taken off at a dead sprint.

Pouring all his energy and strength into his legs, Crowpaw started to gain on it, the thrill of the hunt urging him on. The self-consciousness he’d felt earlier about Feathertail watching him vanished as instinct took over and all his thoughts turned to just the chase— a frantic and yet carefully choreographed dance in which one mistake would mean failure, absolute failure, in the case of the rabbit. 

Come on! Come on!

Crowpaw surged forward, his legs somehow providing him with a final boost of speed that was enough to close the gap. Crowpaw sprung, his paws hooking around the rabbit’s sides and knocking its legs out from under it. The rabbit released a squeal of terror as they tumbled to the ground. Crowpaw screwed his eyes shut for a moment to protect them from jabs from the strands of grass or dust, but he could still feel where the rabbit was as its body struggled against him. Crowpaw lunged for its neck. Bone crunched under his fangs, followed by a rush of warm, salty blood flooding his tongue. By the time Crowpaw skidded to a stop, the rabbit was dead, hanging limply from his jaws.

Crowpaw hauled himself to his paws, shaking the dust from his pelt.

“Wow!” Feathertail sprung out of the tall grass and trotted over to him, her tail held high and her blue eyes glowing. “That was incredible!”

Crowpaw’s ears began to warm immediately.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, glancing down at his paws.

Feathertail gave his side a sniff with her nose, a hint of worry entering her expression.

“Are you alright though? That fall looked pretty hard,” she meowed

“It’s not too bad,” Crowpaw said, giving his coat another shake. “But it’s true that when you’re going that fast, it’s usually pretty hard to slow down gracefully.”

Feathertail’s ears pricked in interest.

“So WindClan cats hunt like that everyday? How are you all not always lumps of bruises?” she asked, a bit of teasing in her voice.

Crowpaw huffed, rolling his eyes.

“We’re tough! It takes more than a little fall to bruise a WindClanner,” he said with a playful growl.

Feathertail purred. “My Clanmates wouldn’t last a day living like that! Most RiverClan cats just like to sit in place and wait for their food to swim to them. I swear, sometimes they’ll stub their toe on a rock when swiping for a fish, but act like they broke their whole leg!”

A purr began to rumble in Crowpaw’s throat in response. “Then you seem much tougher than the average RiverClanner.”

“Yeah, I like to think I am,” Feathertail said drily with a mrrow of amusement, before glancing down at the rabbit. “What do you think? Should we eat this while it’s still warm, and then go look for some prey for the others?”

Crowpaw nudged the fresh-kill towards her with his paw.

“I thought this was just for you,” he said, softly teasing.

“It’s much too big for one cat,” Feathertail declared. “I can only eat it if you share it with me.”

Crowpaw hesitated for only a moment before heaving a sigh of faux defeat.

“Alright. If you insist,” he said, a quiet purr still rumbling in his voice.

He and Feathertail settled down to eat side by side.

The afternoon was giving way to evening by the time they trotted back to their makeshift camp. Crowpaw’s and Feathertail’s bellies were still full with a rabbit they’d shared, but they were bringing back another one, along with three mice for the others. As they approached the crop of bushes where they’d left their companions, they soon saw that the others were awake and swarming around like a disturbed nest of ants, their muzzles held low as if they were searching the area for scents.

“There they are!” Squirrelpaw’s relieved meow rang out.

Crowpaw’s pelt started to prickle uncomfortably when Brambleclaw, Stormfur, and Tawnypelt all turned to stare at them along with Squirrelpaw. Without waiting for them to reach the bush, the four of them hurried to meet Crowpaw and Feathertail instead, their tails still swishing in agitation.

“Where were you?” Stormfur meowed, his orange eyes locked on Feathertail. “We woke up and you were gone, and we couldn’t find any scents! We were so worried.”

“We were just hunting,” Crowpaw grumbled after he dropped the large rabbit in his jaws to the ground with an audible thump. “I guess we were downwind. You’re welcome for the food, by the way.”

Stormfur shot an exasperated glance at Crowpaw before turning his attention back to his sister.

“You shouldn’t wander off by yourself without telling anyone,” he scolded her.

One of Feathertail’s ears flicked irritably as she placed the mice down as well.

“You all were sleeping. We didn’t want to disturb you,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but still—”

“You’re not our mentors,” Crowpaw hissed, interrupting him. 

Stormfur rumbled a low growl of irritation.

“Crowpaw’s right,” Feathertail said before Stormfur could speak, and Crowpaw’s chest warmed with pleasure at her defense. “I’m not a kit or Reedpaw. I can take care of myself. And, besides, I wasn’t ‘by myself.’ Crowpaw was with me.”

Feathertail blinked at Crowpaw, and Stormfur turned his gaze on him as well, his brow furrowed as if he had something he’d like to say about the fact that Crowpaw had been Feathertail’s chosen companion. The fur down Crowpaw’s spine began to bristle preemptively.

Brambleclaw stepped forward, touching his dark tabby tail-tip to Stormfur’s side in a reassuring gesture.

“I think what Stormfur means is that we just all need to be careful. It’s true that we haven’t run into much danger on our journey recently, but that doesn’t mean we can grow complacent. None of us has any idea of what awaits ahead,” Brambleclaw said.

“Probably just more stupid farms,” Crowpaw muttered under his breath.

But, Crowpaw didn’t argue with him further. He understood the wisdom of Brambleclaw’s words, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Feathertail, however, nodded in concession, although she still looked annoyed with her brother.

“Look, do you guys want this prey we brought back for you or not?” Crowpaw snapped, his tail-tip beginning to twitch.

“That’s a ‘yes’ from me,” Tawnypelt meowed quickly, moving in to grab one of the mice. “Brilliant job guys, thank you.”

The edge of Crowpaw’s irritation began to dull. At least one of their companions was properly grateful.

Everyone but Crowpaw and Feathertail quickly ate their meals, and then they’d started off again, padding towards the setting sun.

Despite the little spat about Crowpaw and Feathertail’s ‘disappearance,’ everyone seemed to be in good spirits once their bellies were full, and they were on the move again, making progress on their journey. They all chatted with each other, a bit of a spring in their steps. Crowpaw, though, was feeling a bit tired, although he was sure not to lag behind and let the others know that.

Maybe I should have rested longer instead of going for a run and then hunting…

Then he glanced over at Feathertail from the corner of his eyes as she talked with Stormfur. Crowpaw took a moment to admire the way the sunlight gleamed off the pale silver parts of her fur while highlighting the glossiness of her jet-black stripes, before he turned his eyes forward again, not wanting to look like he was staring.

It was worth it though.

“You know,” Feathertail said, changing topics as she turned away from Stormfur and towards Crowpaw, “now that you’ve shown me how a WindClan cat hunts, I’ll have to return the favor and teach you to fish.”

“Yeah, sure,” Crowpaw agreed without hesitation.

His tail was already starting to lift up in happiness at the thought of spending more time with Feathertail.

“I thought you didn’t have any interest in fish, Crowpaw?” Squirrelpaw cut in suddenly, glancing back at him from over her shoulder.

Crowpaw’s tail began lowering again immediately, and his mouth formed into a slight scowl as he met her gaze. Squirrelpaw arched a brow at him, her eyes flickering between him and Feathertail before settling back on Crowpaw as she shot him a wicked, knowing look.

“It could be a useful skill to have,” Crowpaw growled defensively, his pelt prickling with heat. “Fish isn’t my preferred prey, but we don’t know what lies ahead. It could be our only option.”

“Oh so that’s really the only reason?” Squirrelpaw purred cheekily, her eyes flashing with absolute glee at ruffling Crowpaw’s fur.

Crowpaw rumbled a low, warning growl, glaring at her.

“Okay. Okay,” Squirrelpaw said, although her placating tone was undercut by her rolling her eyes. “No need to get your tail in such a twist. I actually think fishing sounds fun.”

“I’ll teach you too, Squirrelpaw!” Feathertail meowed brightly, glancing at her.

“You know, it’s not really such a bad idea,” Tawnypelt chimed in thoughtfully. “In Brambleclaw’s dream of the sundrown-place there was nothing but a massive amount of salty water. Maybe fish will be the easiest prey to find there. I can hook out frogs and salamanders from puddles well enough, but I wouldn’t mind learning how RiverClanners do it. ”

“Those are all good points,” Brambleclaw added with a nod. “And, I mean, if everyone else is going to learn it, I may as well too.”

Stormfur gave a deep chuckle, shaking his broad head. “Oh how the tides have turned since you guys swore you’d never even touch a fish!”

“Hey, I was never that dramatic,” Tawnypelt corrected quickly. “You’re thinking of Squirrelpaw and my brother’s reaction. I’m pretty sure most ThunderClanners turn into timid little mice as soon as their paws get wet.”

Feathertail and Stormfur purred loudly along with Tawnypelt, while Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw hurried to defend themselves and the rest of ThunderClan, their pelts fluffing out with offense. But, as they conversed, Crowpaw’s tail began to twitch with annoyance. 

There went his chance to spend more time with Feathertail away from the rest of these annoying furballs! Of course they had to invite themselves along too…

Crowpaw fell into a broody silence as they continued on, the relatively uniform fields of farmland rolling past them. But as they reached the top of a slope and gazed into the distance in front of and below them, a new environment was revealed. Crowpaw stared at it, his stomach sinking in dismay.

“Fox-dung,” Tawnypelt muttered under her breath, her jaw setting with displeasure, and Crowpaw shared her sentiment.

A row of twoleg dens had appeared at the foot of the hills, and more of them stretched out into the distance after that. It went on until they were obscured by the bright light of the setting sun behind them, bleeding over the landscape. Crowpaw’s ears pinned back as he traced his gaze over the huge sweep of dens, and the faint sounds of the twoleg-place— the shouts of twolegs, the barking of dogs, the rumbles of monsters— drifted over into his ears.

His eyes searched for the edge of the sprawling mess.

How will we manage traveling through a place with so many twolegs? Is there any way around it?

Crowpaw’s gaze found a group of mountains, and his disappointment intensified. They were the same ones he had first noticed in the distance from the summit of Highstones, and they had grown in size as they’d traveled until they dwarfed even the massive twoleg-place they flanked. 

The mountains would make any travel around the twoleg-place much more difficult. If they wanted to skirt around it, they would have to risk navigating through them.

Brambleclaw followed his gaze over there before glancing over at Crowpaw from the corners of his eyes.

“What do you think?” he meowed.

Crowpaw’s ears flicked in surprise that Brambleclaw had chosen to ask for his opinion.

“The mountains are too far off course and would be difficult to traverse,” Crowpaw said curtly. “We can’t risk it.”

Brambleclaw nodded.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he rumbled.

“So we really have to go through that?” Squirrelpaw asked, staring wide-eyed at the rows upon rows of twoleg dens.

“I don’t like this,” Tawnypelt growled in quiet agreement, the fur down her back bristling.

“We’ll have to try,” Brambleclaw said, although uncertainty flickered in his amber eyes.

Stormfur’s claws flexed in and out anxiously.

“But, how will we avoid twolegs and monsters?” he asked. “Where will we even find prey to hunt?”

“We will have to adjust our traveling schedule to be more during the night,” Brambleclaw suggested, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. “Although it will be harder when we can’t see the sun all the time…”

“As for prey,” Tawnypelt chimed in. “I’m sure we will find that at least. Twoleg trash attracts mice and rats.”

Crowpaw’s nose wrinkled up at the mention of rats. They were vile creatures, and when they were in groups, they could be very aggressive and even pose a danger to a cat.

I take back what I said about farms being dumb. Let’s have more of those instead.

But wishing that wasn’t going to change the reality in front of them.

Brambleclaw sighed. “I suppose we should get going. The sun’s almost set, so we should be able to travel for a bit longer when it’s easier to hide from the twolegs in the dark.”

The others meowed their agreement, albeit reluctantly. They descended the hill, heading in the direction of the first few twoleg dens, and they entered into a small strip of woods that marked the border of the farmlands and the fences that encircled the first dens. 

Brushing through some undergrowth, Brambleclaw led the way in leaping over a tiny creek, but before they could continue on, Crowpaw bent his head to take a long drink of the water. Feathertail paused next to him, and Crowpaw lifted his muzzle, twitching droplets from his whiskers.

“Might as well get a final taste of clean water because from here on, we’ll be drinking from puddles that taste like twoleg trash,” Crowpaw muttered, rumbling a soft growl of annoyance.

Feathertail sighed in agreement, her tail-tip flicking. She then dipped her head to drink from the stream as well, but as soon as her tongue touched the water’s surface, she recoiled sharply as she’d been stung by the contact.

“What’s wrong?” Crowpaw asked, sudden concern flickering through him as he leaned towards her.

Feathertail hesitated for a few moments, swiping her tongue around her lips, and her eyes stretched wide. She turned to not just look at Crowpaw, but the others in their group as well as they waited for them.

“I think I just got my saltwater sign,” she meowed.

Crowpaw’s ears jerked up in shock, but after only a few heartbeats, his surprise faded and instead his belly knotted in a cold, tense worry that completely eclipsed any other emotion he’d felt that day.

That means I’m the only one left who hasn’t got it…

Brambleclaw gazed at Feathertail, his brow furrowing.

“Hm… it’s been nearly a full moon-cycle since Tawnypelt got hers. What do you think StarClan is trying to tell us now?” he asked.

“Maybe just that we’re still on the right track?” Squirrelpaw answered for Feathertail, her large green eyes blinking quizzically like an owl.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Tawnypelt spoke up, her tail-tip twitching as she thought. “We just decided to enter the twoleg-place. They must be letting us know that that was the right choice.”

Feathertail nodded, straightening from her crouched position over the creek.

“Yes. They’re still watching over us,” she said, her voice growing more confident.

Watching over us? But then why won’t they speak to me too? I haven’t heard anything since that first dream…

Crowpaw growled quietly.

“Even in the most StarClan-forsaken territory of the twoleg-place,” he muttered, his tone laced with bitterness.

He normally wouldn’t make such a snide comment to Feathertail, but right now, his emotions were growing too strong for him to wrangle. 

Truthfully, Feathertail’s saltwater sign nettled him deeply, far more so than even when Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt had gotten theirs. This one slashed at his chest with icy claws of self-doubt and insecurity.

Before, Feathertail had been his companion in the lack-of-a-sign. It’d allowed them to take solidarity in each other, because as long as Feathertail didn’t have hers, Crowpaw could at least imagine that there wasn’t anything wrong with him specifically. As the days had passed since the start of their journey, when Tawnypelt had gotten her saltwater sign, they had even faded into the back of his mind.

But now it was here in front of them again, staring their group right in the face. And the stark fact that Crowpaw was the only one without the sign, stuck out more than his dark coat on a field of undisturbed snow.

Feathertail glanced over at him, her perceptive gaze reading him easily.

“I’m sure you’ll get your sign soon,” she murmured to Crowpaw.

“Yeah,” Stormfur chimed in. “Maybe StarClan is saving it for something really important.”

Crowpaw’s stomach clenched in sudden anger.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed venomously, glaring at Stormfur. “I’m fine.”

However, Crowpaw refused to look at Feathertail. He knew one glance at her disappointed face and gentle blue eyes, and he’d crumble and apologize. But Crowpaw didn’t want to apologize right now! He wanted to simmer and fester in the feelings of hurt and confusion, scratch and bother the thing until it finally made sense to him.

Why are you still silent for me, StarClan? Am I not good enough for you?

He rose to his paws, springing over the narrow creek and turning around to face the rows of dens.

“Let’s just keep going,” he muttered.

He stalked off towards the territory of stone and twolegs and monsters, leaving the others to follow.

Chapter Text

Mothwing wandered out of the medicine cats’ den around midmorning, swallowing back a yawn, but any remnants of her sleepiness quickly faded as she swept her gaze over the camp. An air of tension hung over the Clan like a gathering thunderstorm. Her Clanmates all seemed to be crouching instead of lounging, as if they were prepared to spring to their paws at any moment. 

The low waterline of the river had been noticed by everyone in RiverClan at this point, and Mothwing knew it was putting them all on edge. The river was everything to them— their water source, their food source, and their natural barrier of protection from the other Clans. Although the greenleaf weather was persisting and the fish were still swimming, the low water levels seemed to be some kind of premonition that this season of prosperity for RiverClan was soon coming to an end.

And the most worrying thing of all was that, paradoxically, despite the occasional rainfall, the river had not yet started to regain its former size. Although, it was holding steady, not dropping at the alarming rate that Mothwing had noticed that first day after the full moon. The river was not yet close to actually drying out either— over three fourths of its normal volume still remained— but nevertheless, Mudfur had said that not once in his long life had he seen the water recede as far as they were now.

Could this be some kind of bad omen from StarClan?

Although Mothwing’s belly fluttered nervously, she pushed the thoughts about the river from her mind and turned to the freshkill pile. She would still have to eat, whether or not the river continued to shrink. After inspecting the available fish, Mothwing picked out a small perch before searching for a place to eat it. Mothwing noticed Mistyfoot only a few fox-lengths away, sharing a meal with her daughter, Primrosepaw. Mothwing padded over to them, dipping her head in greeting as she settled down to eat nearby.

“Good morning, Mistyfoot, Primrosepaw,” she said, trying to infuse her voice with some cheerfulness despite the gloom that hung over the camp.

Mistyfoot didn’t respond beyond a subdued nod, making Mothwing’s brow furrow, but Primrosepaw shot Mothwing a friendly glance.

“Hi Mothwing! How are you? What’s it been like being a medicine cat?” Primrosepaw chirped, blinking curiously.

Although concern for Mistyfoot still lingered in Mothwing, she also couldn’t stop a quiet purr from rumbling in her chest at Primrosepaw’s infectious enthusiasm.

“It’s great. Although there is still a lot for me to learn,” Mothwing responded

“It’s so cool that you get to talk to StarClan all the time!” Primrosepaw said, her eyes stretching wide with wonder.

At the thought of speaking to StarClan, Mothwing’s mind turned to her second trip to the Moonstone from almost a half-moon ago, and her purr faded as unease crept into her chest.

Although Mothwing had thought she’d get to speak to Tadpole again at the Moonstone, instead, she’d received a confusing, fragmented dream that she couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“Well, it’s not all the time,” Mothwing clarified, choosing her words carefully. “But, I do enjoy being able to walk closely with our ancestors.”

If only they would properly talk to me and let me know what they want!

But, Mothwing shoved the thought away. She couldn’t dwell on it and her dream now.

Besides, the next Moonstone meeting is only in a couple days. Maybe it will make more sense then.

“Anyway, how’s your training going?” she asked Primrosepaw, deliberately changing the topic. 

“It’s alright,” the apprentice responded, going along with the change in topic easily. “Although Pikepaw is a better fisher than me.”

Primrosepaw’s whiskers drooped in slight discouragement. “And, ever since Reedpaw got Hawkfrost as his mentor, he’s gotten like so good at sparring. So they’re both better than me...”

Mothwing blinked at her empathetically.

“I get it. Hawkfrost has always been a better fisher and fighter than I am, and he always learned things more quickly than me,” Mothwing said sympathetically. “But there are still things that I can do that he can’t. Like Hawkfrost couldn’t tell you the name of a single herb in the whole forest! So, I’m sure you have something you’re way better at than your brothers.”

Primrosepaw tilted her head to the side as she thought.

“I guess I’m pretty good at tracking stuff,” she meowed, her expression brightening.

“See!” Mothwing said, giving an encouraging purr.

“Although I do still wish that Leopardstar had let me go with Pikepaw and Reedpaw on the patrol to fight WindClan,” Primrosepaw said with a sigh, her tail lashing in frustration. “They’ll get to have their first battle before me!”

Mothwing stiffened suddenly, her ears jerking up in surprise. “There’s a battle with WindClan? Happening now?”

“There hopefully won’t be any fighting,” Mistyfoot said quickly, speaking up for the first time.

The deputy looked over at Mothwing, blinking a cloudiness from her eyes as if emerging from a dream. 

“But it’s true that Leopardstar has decided to close our borders to WindClan and not allow them to drink from the river anymore,” Mistyfoot continued. “Leopardstar sent a patrol to guard the border and stop any WindClanners that try to cross. That’s what Primrosepaw is talking about.”

Primrosepaw nodded, and Mothwing’s stomach churned uneasily.

She knew that Leopardstar and a few of her other Clanmates had been blaming the dropping water levels on WindClan. There was a certain level of logic behind the reasoning— the river had been fine before WindClan had started drinking from it, and now it wasn’t.

But, truthfully, Mothwing had some doubts that just some extra cats drinking from the river could affect it so dramatically. The river was massive, and there was just so much water! Surely all the cats in all the Clans could drink from it, and not make a real dent in the levels, right?

Mothwing had thought that Leopardstar must have had similar doubts too, since she hadn’t immediately driven out the WindClan patrols as soon as the waters started dropping. But now Mistyfoot was saying that she had shut the border? 

What changed her mind?

“I thought the agreement was that WindClan could drink from the river until the next Gathering,” Mothwing meowed hesitantly. “Even with the dropping water levels.”

Mistyfoot flicked her ears.

“Things changed,” she said flatly. “Hawkfrost came in with a report very early this morning. He’d witnessed WindClan stealing prey. They broke the agreement.”

Mothwing blinked, understanding dawning on her.

That must be why Mistyfoot seems so subdued. Mistyfoot’s been advocating for WindClan since the beginning of this agreement and encouraged Leopardstar to continue to allow them to drink, even after the water levels began dropping more. 

Pity for her former mentor grew in Mothwing’s chest.

She must feel responsible for this. I mean… Leopardstar even told her that if anything went wrong, it was on her.

“It’s not your fault about WindClan,” Mothwing muttered to Mistyfoot. “You were just trying to do the right thing. Tallstar’s the one to blame. He’s a liar.”

Mistyfoot exhaled a long sigh.

“I know,” she said, giving her ears a small shake. “And, Leopardstar is doing the right thing in chasing them out now. Stealing prey from us is unacceptable, but also… I can’t help but feel a bit bad for them still. I mean, they must be really desperate to resort to stealing fish.”

Mothwing’s ears perked up in surprise.

“The prey they were stealing was fish?” Mothwing echoed in confusion. “I didn’t think WindClanners knew how to fish.”

Mistyfoot shrugged.

“I guess they figured it out,” she said. “But I was surprised too when Leopardstar and Hawkfrost told me about it. I’ve never heard of a WindClan cat ever voluntarily eating fish in my life until now.”

Mistyfoot squared her shoulders, as if pushing her pity towards WindClan aside. “But whatever their reason, Tallstar broke our agreement. They no longer deserve access to the river for that. RiverClan needs to keep our prey and our river to ourselves.”

Mothwing’s brow furrowed.

Still, WindClanners stealing fish is so strange. I can’t even imagine it.

Mothwing was pulled out of her thoughts when Mistyfoot shifted next to her. The deputy’s strong, determined posture started to fade as she seemed to fall back into her mire of melancholy.

“...Today it’s been a moon since they disappeared,” Mistyfoot muttered under her breath.

Mothwing glanced over to see Mistyfoot staring out into the distance at nothing in particular.  “I still don’t understand why.”

Mothwing’s mind quickly understood Mistyfoot’s sudden change in topic.

Oh. So WindClan isn’t the only reason she’s upset.

Mothwing’s tail-tip flicked uncertainly. She wasn’t sure what she could say to comfort Mistyfoot, especially when she’d never been as close to Feathertail and Stormfur as Mistyfoot had been. 

As callous as it sounded, life had moved on just fine in RiverClan without Feathertail and Stormfur. Maybe Stormfur was missed by his friends, like Shadepelt or Heavystep, but Reedpaw at least was flourishing under Hawkfrost’s mentorship. And, as for Feathertail, cats, Mothwing included, had to always tip-toe around her. Although Mothwing now understood that was because of TigerClan and the terrible things Feathertail experienced then, Mothwing could tell it was still a relief for some of her Clanmates to have that burden lifted from them.

Maybe Stormfur and Feathertail never really fit in with RiverClan as much as Mistyfoot thinks they did.

The only obvious mark in camp that Feathertail and Stormfur had even existed was that Mistyfoot refused to give up the den she’d shared with the two of them. Every night she’d opted to sleep alone, even though Mothwing was sure that any of the other warriors, except for perhaps Blackclaw, would happily give Mistyfoot a nest in their den, if she’d just ask them.

“Do you not believe Firestar that they left with the others? For some kind of reason?” Mothwing asked softly.

Mistyfoot sighed.

“I suppose that would be the best case scenario. But what reason could they have to go away without even saying goodbye?” She lowered her head down, resting her chin on her pale blue-grey paws. 

“I just wish they’d come home,” Mistyfoot murmured in a voice barely above a breath.

Primrosepaw leaned over to give Mistyfoot’s ears a few reassuring licks, even though sadness swam in her gaze as well. Mothwing knew Feathertail and Stormfur had been like family to all of Mistyfoot’s kits too.

 Mothwing’s ears flattened sympathetically, but she was distracted when the sound of loud splashing echoed through RiverClan’s camp. Mothwing glanced over towards the noise, her Clanmates doing the same. Dawnflower stopped grooming her grey fur and looked up, her tongue still poking out of her mouth. Skyheart went from gossiping with Loudbelly and watching over her kits to gazing towards the noise. Even Mistyfoot’s ears pricked, although her eyes stayed dull.

The reeds surrounding the camp shivered, and Hawkfrost, Reedpaw, Blackclaw, Heavystep, Shadepelt, and Pikepaw came striding out. A few scratches marked their coats, but their eyes were bright and their tails held high. Primrosepaw leapt to her paws at the sight of her brothers, but Leopardstar was even faster. Before the reeds had even stopped shaking, she had sprung down from where she’d been lying on the couple of sunning-stones at the edge of the camp and strode over to the patrol.

“How did it go?” Leopardstar asked urgently.

Hawkfrost lifted his chin, his bright blue eyes gleaming.

“We successfully chased off a WindClan patrol and double-marked the border. The cowards hardly even fought back,” he boasted loudly before his voice lowered to a growl. “That should teach those prey-stealing mange-pelts to stay off of our territory and away from our river.”

Leopardstar nodded, her amber eyes bright with pride.

“Good,” she growled. “The water levels in the river should stabilize now, without WindClan sabotaging it. And, I’ll deal with Tallstar when it’s time for the Gathering. The other Clans will certainly be hearing of this! This is the last time we’ll ever trust his forked tongue!”

Several warriors growled or yowled out their agreement.

“We should’ve driven those lying thieves out a moon ago,” Loudbelly complained from across the camp.

“Better yet, we never should have let WindClan drink from our river in the first place!” Blackclaw snarled, shooting a pointed, poisonous glare towards Mistyfoot.

Mothwing glanced over at Mistyfoot too, wondering if the deputy would say anything to defend her decision. But, Mistyfoot was silent. She just rose to her paws and padded over to Reedpaw and Pikepaw with Primrosepaw. Mistyfoot gave her sons’ ears a couple licks as she greeted them and checked them for injuries. 

Mothwing stood as well, heading towards the medicine cats’ den in anticipation of treating some of the warriors’ scratches. Mudfur was already pulling out some cobwebs and marigold, which they would use to prevent infection.

After finishing his report to Leopardstar, Hawkfrost came padding right up to Mothwing, his eyes still bright with the thrill of battle.

“Did you hear?” he asked, automatically extending his bitten wrist towards her to look at as the other injured members of his patrol, Blackclaw and Heavystep, went to Mudfur for treatment. “We drove those weasels out! They’re gonna go crawling back to Tallstar with their skinny tails between their legs! Ha!”

Mothwing examined Hawkfrost’s leg rather than responding right away. The bite wasn’t that deep or bleeding too much. He’d just need some herbs and bandaging. She turned to the den, grabbing a bit of marigold from Mudfur before returning to her brother. She chewed the herb into a quick poultice.

“I did hear. You yowled it to the whole camp,” she said wryly as she spit out the poultice and started to tend to his cuts. “It does seem a bit strange to me though.”

Hawkfrost’s ears angled back.

“What does?” he asked.

Mothwing glanced up at Hawkfrost, her brow furrowed.

“Uh… all of it? Like how can WindClan cause the river levels to drop just by drinking from it?” she asked, finally putting her earlier thoughts from her conversation with Mistyfoot to words. “The river is so big, it just seems impossible.”

Hawkfrost snorted.

“You sound like Mistyfoot,” he sneered. “You can’t be so soft-hearted towards WindClan or they will steal your pelt off your back, along with our river and our fish.”

“Well the river isn’t the only weird thing,” Mothwing meowed, a touch of defensiveness entering her voice. “I mean… stealing fish? I know you saw it, but why would a WindClan cat do that?”

“Why wouldn’t they eat fish?” Hawkfrost growled. “It’s a prey source and clearly they want to weaken us by stealing our food and water.”

“But does WindClan even like fish?” Mothwing protested. “How did they even learn to fish in the first place? What did you see exactly? Were they just scavenging fish from the shore?”

Hawkfrost huffed in annoyance at all her questions, yanking his paw back and out of Mothwing’s grasp before she was quite done with it.

“I don’t know why you’re defending them so much when you already know that WindClan is full of lying fork-tongued weasels!” Hawkfrost hissed. “And Tallstar is the worst of them all! Have you already forgotten the stream thing? Why should we continue to allow them to use our territory when they don’t even need the water and they’re stealing prey from us!”

Mothwing took a deep breath in through her nose.

“I’m just trying to look at it from a different perspective,” Mothwing said slowly. “After the last Gathering Mudfur told me… well, I just hadn’t been thinking about things like a medicine cat before. So I’m trying hard to do a better job of that now, and Mudfur has made some good points. I mean, we don’t know that WindClan’s streams aren’t dried up right now. Well, it would be unusual since there has been rain, but I didn’t see any this time on the way to the Moonstone last half-moon…”

“Are you sure you went the exact same way you went before? Couldn’t Barkface have just diverted you around it so you didn’t see the streams this time?” Hawkfrost demanded.

Mothwing’s ears flattened. “Well, this was only my second time so I still don’t know the journey there that well…”

“There. You just proved my point,” Hawkfrost growled.

Mothwing sighed, shaking her head. She wasn’t trying to argue with Hawkfrost or make him angry. He just still didn’t understand that she had to think about this situation like a medicine cat now, instead of as a warrior.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you,” she said. “But, I do think that these things don’t add up. Maybe there’s just more going on here than we understand right now. Like why does the river’s level keep dropping even though the drought is over, and it’s been raining more? What is going on with WindClan that’s driving them to steal fish?”

Hawkfrost growled. “Who cares what’s going on with WindClan? We put RiverClan first, always, and that’s final. Let’s say that Tallstar wasn’t lying and all their water and prey really has disappeared— It doesn’t matter! The right thing for RiverClan is still clearly that we keep all of our food and water for us.”

Mothwing shook her head again. Hawkfrost still wasn’t getting it.

“I understand why you think that way, because you’re a warrior,” she meowed. “But, I’m not one anymore. The medicine cat’s oath is to care for all cats.”

Hawkfrost’s tail began to lash, stirring up the dust of the ground behind him.

“Well then don’t talk about things you have no idea about, and stick to thinking about your medicine cat things,” he snapped. “Like flowers and butterfly wings and stars and whatever. But, leave defending the Clan to the warriors.”

With that Hawkfrost turned around and stalked off.

“Wait!” Mothwing called. “I wasn’t done treating your cuts yet…”

Hawkfrost pushed through the reeds, disappearing from view, and only a moment later, his pawsteps faded as he splashed into the river, swimming away from camp.

“Fish-brain,” Mothwing growled under her breath, watching the reeds sway behind him.

Mudfur sighed.

“Some warriors are like that,” he commented to Mothwing as he bandaged Heavystep’s leg. “Won’t stay in place unless you tie them to their nest.”

Mothwing’s tail-tip twitched with irritation as she turned back to her mentor.

“He’s just so difficult sometimes. He drives me mad,” she grumbled under her breath as she padded over to him.

Mudfur rumbled a wry mrrow .

“What else is family for?” he asked, before nodding at Heavystep to send him away.

The last of the injured patrol members treated, Mudfur rose to his paws and turned back to the den to put the remaining herbs away. Mothwing followed him into the cool cavern to help, brushing past the swirling feathers that decorated the den.

“Did you hear the other things Hawkfrost was saying?” she asked.

“Only some of it,” Mudfur responded, his gaze sweeping over the carefully sorted herb piles instead of looking at her.

“I’m worried,” Mothwing admitted, shuffling her paws.

Mudfur’s ears perked in surprise, and he turned to gaze at her then.

“About Hawkfrost?” he meowed.

“No. Not him specifically,” Mothwing clarified, shaking her head. “But I am worried about the situation.”

Mudfur took a seat and wrapped his thick-furred tail around his paws, gesturing for Mothwing to put the herbs aside and do the same. Mothwing obeyed, settling into a sit.

“What about the situation?” Mudfur asked patiently.

Mothwing’s ears twisted back.

“I just have a feeling something is wrong,” she blurted out. “Because of our Moonstone dreams.”

Although Mothwing wasn’t sure if she should really call it a ‘dream’ at all. It had been moreso a barely coherent string of images and scents and sounds that had seemed to have flashed before her for only two heartbeats before her eyes had snapped open and the Moonstone had turned dark. 

She could hardly tell what had happened. The only obvious thing about the dream was that it was a warning of some kind. In the few clear snippets she’d been able to pick out from the whirl of chaos, there had been the yowling of frightened cats, the crimson splash of blood against the ground, the loud rumbles of monsters… 

Could the dream be about this conflict between WindClan and RiverClan? Is that why it was so important that StarClan sent it to us, instead of letting me speak to Tadpole again?

The dream had disturbed Mothwing enough that she’d confided to Mudfur about it as soon as they’d parted from the other medicine cats. In turn, Mudfur had shared that he’d received an equally confusing dream which had shown a similar blur of unpleasant images.

“You think the dreams were warning us about this?” Mudfur asked slowly.

“It seems like it could be possible, right?” Mothwing meowed, and even though the dream frightened her, a tiny part of her also swelled with hope that she’d been able to interpret her ancestors’ message correctly.

Mudfur’s ears twitched, his face uncertain.

“Possible, yes. Is it likely though?” he asked. “The dreams were very vague. I’d expect that if StarClan wanted to warn about this specific conflict, there'd be more clues in the dreams that this is what it is about.”

Mothwing’s whiskers drooped.

“Then what is this dream about?” she asked. “Why can’t I figure it out? Do you think they will send another dream when we go to the Moonstone again in a few days?”

Mudfur uncurled his tail to brush it against her side reassuringly.

“StarClan can be cryptic,” he admitted. “But, their intent will become more clear with time. We just need to stay observant.”

Mothwing nodded, although her belly still swirled with discouragement.

I just want to be able to commune with StarClan and understand what they want! Why do they have to make it so difficult?

“Maybe I should go find Hawkfrost,” Mothwing muttered. “I don’t want his paw getting infected because he wouldn’t let me finish treating it.”

“Good idea,” Mudfur meowed. “Maybe a walk will also help clear the troubles from your mind.”

Mothwing nodded and rose to her paws. She padded out of the den and then out of camp, slipping into the river in the same direction Hawkfrost had left in. When she pulled herself out of the water and onto the opposite bank though, Hawkfrost was long gone, his wafting scent the only thing remaining. Mothwing began to meander up the bank after him, but she felt no real rush to catch up. If he wanted to be fish-brained and keep flouncing through mud with exposed wounds from a bitten paw, that was on him.

Although it was swiftly approaching the end of greenleaf, it was still plenty hot out, and Mothwing could feel the sun baking her golden back. She shook her head as insects buzzed around her ears, and she gave her paw a shake as mud stuck between her toes.

Growling irritably, Mothwing plunged back into the river, and immediately, things were much better. The cool touch of the water soothed her hot, itching pelt and washed the sticky mud away. Inhaling a deep breath, Mothwing dived beneath the surface, a thrill of excitement running through her as she surged through the underwater world, bubbles swirling around her as she kicked out strongly with her legs.

“Mothwing!” a faint voice suddenly called, distorted by the water.

Mothwing’s tufted ears pricked. Had that been Hawkfrost? No… the voice’s pitch was too high.

Pushing off the stony bottom of the river with her paws, Mothwing rocketed upwards, breaching the surface. As she blinked droplets from her eyelashes, the world came back into focus, and she made out a delicate light brown tabby figure on the far bank. The hazy spray from the river reflected the light in front of her, wreathing the cat in a brilliant, flickering rainbow. She waved a white paw at Mothwing in a gesture for her to come over, and Mothwing finally recognized her friend, Leafpaw. 

Curiosity thrumming through her at what Leafpaw could want, Mothwing obeyed her summons, resisting the strong tug of the current as she swam straight across the river, although a bit of worry started to set in as she approached ThunderClan’s bank.

Leafpaw’s tail lifted in an excited greeting as Mothwing’s paws brushed the bottom of the river. Mothwing was soon able to stand, although she lingered in the water for a moment.

“Am I allowed to be here?” Mothwing meowed hesitantly. “Beyond the river’s edge is ThunderClan territory.”

Leafpaw waved her concerns away with a swish of her tail.

“And, you’re a medicine cat! Besides, I invited you,” Leafpaw responded.

Mothwing mewed an acceptance, and she finally allowed her paws to cross from the threshold of the river and onto solid ground.

Once Mothwing was clear of the water, Leafpaw stepped forward, a purr of greeting rising in her throat, which Mothwing eagerly echoed. Seeing Leafpaw was definitely a pleasant reprieve after all of the stress she’d been feeling recently. Leafpaw leaned forward as if to brush her cheek against Mothwing’s, but her fur only grazed Mothwing’s in the lightest of feather-touches.

Mothwing gave a mrrow of amusement as Leafpaw pulled back.

“Don’t want to get your pelt wet?” Mothwing guessed, a hint of teasing entering her voice.

Leafpaw responded with her own purr of laughter.

“Not all of us are half-fish you know,” she said, her golden-amber eyes sparkling.

Mothwing rumbled a playful growl of offense.

“Half-fish?! Oh you’re going to pay for that mouse-muncher,” she warned.

Mothwing promptly gave her coat a hard shake, creating a shower of water around herself and Leafpaw, who started and squeaked in shock. Once Mothwing was done, her pelt was much drier, but now Leafpaw looked like she’d just come from the river.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Leafpaw wailed in dismay, but a purr still rumbled beneath her words.

“You’ve got to admit that it’s nice to not be so warm though, right?” Mothwing purred.

Leafpaw’s nose wrinkled up as she gave her side a few licks, trying to dry her pelt off.

“Yeah, but it’s less nice that it comes at the cost of being wet,” she complained.

Mothwing’s purr vibrated louder in her chest as she padded to Leafpaw’s side.

“Alright. Alright. Let me help you then,” Mothwing said.

Mothwing guided Leafpaw over to a dry, flat rock that had missed the spray from her shake. They laid down there, and Mothwing started to groom Leafpaw’s back, smoothing down her tabby fur and cleaning off the water. Leafpaw’s purr began to rumble louder, and after a few more moments of grooming, Mothwing noticed that Leafpaw had stopped helping her and was now just soaking up the warmth of the rock, her eyes half-closed in bliss. Mothwing lifted her head from Leafpaw’s pelt.

“Hey! You’re going to make me do this all by myself?!” she jokingly protested.

“It’s your fault so it’s only fair you fix it!” Leafpaw purred back, her half-closed eyes shutting fully.

Mothwing grumbled under her breath in mock irritation, but she really didn’t have any problem with going back to grooming Leafpaw’s pelt. Only a heartbeat later, Mothwing felt the rasp of Leafpaw’s tongue over her ears as she began to groom her in return. 

Mothwing didn’t have enough friends in RiverClan to have shared tongues with many cats there. Really, she’d probably only done so with Hawkfrost, Mistyfoot, and maybe Feathertail, back when she was a kit. Still though, Mothwing could tell that Leafpaw’s pelt was very different from the ones Mothwing was used to. Unlike most RiverClanners, Leafpaw’s fur was short instead of long and flowing, and the texture of it was different. It lacked the glossy outer layer that helped Mothwing’s Clanmates shed water as easily as a heron’s wing, instead, Leafpaw’s fur was almost as soft as goose down.

“You’re right. This is nice,” Leafpaw said softly, her body vibrating with her purr.

Mothwing’s ears started to warm as she noticed how closely she and Leafpaw were curled together. They’d grown to be better friends in the times they’d met at the Gatherings and the medicine cats’ half-moon meetings, but it still felt a bit strange to play with her and then share tongues, acting as if they were close enough to be Clanmates.

But medicine cats are supposed to see beyond Clan boundaries, so I’m not doing anything wrong, right?

“Did you call me over just to get me to lie around with you?” Mothwing asked lightly. “I do actually have duties to attend to in RiverClan.”

Leafpaw’s eyes blinked open, her brow furrowing in consternation.

“Do you need to leave? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I was just harvesting some herbs nearby and thought I’d say hello.” She nodded towards a neat pile of nearby celandine in explanation.

“I don’t need to go yet,” Mothwing meowed quickly, reluctant to have to go back to tracking down her angry brother so soon. “I’m only teasing.”

Leafpaw gave a light purr in response.

“It’s nice to see you too,” she said, a hint of cheekiness in her voice. “How have you been?”

Mothwing huffed quietly, her thoughts turning back to the conflict with WindClan.

“Things have been better,” she admitted.

Leafpaw’s eyes rounded with concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling away from Mothwing so she could look at her face more easily.

The tip of Mothwing’s tail flicked back and forth indecisively. Would it be wrong to share what was going on between RiverClan and WindClan with Leafpaw? She was a medicine cat, so she stood apart from Clan conflicts, but she was also from ThunderClan… But Mothwing did trust her.

“Do you promise not to tell anyone else? Not even Cinderpelt?” Mothwing asked.

Leafpaw nodded solemnly, and Mothwing breathed out a soft sigh.

“Okay, well… we’ve been having some problems lately. You’ve noticed the water in the river getting lower, right?” Mothwing asked.

Leafpaw glanced over her shoulder and back towards the river.

“Huh. Now that you mention it, yeah it does seem to be lower than normal,” she meowed.

Mothwing’s face pulled in a slight grimace. The water level had been like an ever-present thorn in every RiverClanners’ side, but Leafpaw was somehow only just noticing it now?

Well I guess it’s obvious that they wouldn’t care about the river as much in ThunderClan.

“Yeah. Well, it’s caused some conflict between us and WindClan,” Mothwing said. “Leopardstar decided to no longer allow WindClan patrols to drink from the river.”

Leafpaw made a soft murmur of concern, but then remained quiet as if sensing that Mothwing had more to say.

“A patrol drove off some WindClanners today. And, well… I guess I just have a bad feeling about it, like we aren’t understanding the full picture. Everything has just been all confusing and mixed up recently. One of my Clanmates even said that they saw WindClan stealing fish.”

“Fish?” Leafpaw echoed, her brow furrowing. “That is weird. I didn’t even think WindClan cats knew how to fish.”

“That’s what I said!” Mothwing meowed, shaking her head. “Things just don’t add up. It’s been raining, so why has the river stayed low? Maybe WindClan’s streams aren’t replenishing in the same way? Then it would be wrong to stop them from drinking right?” 

Mothwing turned an entreating gaze onto Leafpaw, hoping her friend had some insight. Leafpaw blinked thoughtfully in response.

“Us healers would think that way, but I understand why your Clanmates may not,” she said finally.

Mothwing sighed. “Yeah I know…”

“But,” Leafpaw continued. “I think you should trust your intuition about there being something more going on.”

Mothwing’s ears pricked. “Really?”

“Yes.” Leafpaw gave a mrrow of amusement at Mothwing’s expression, her golden eyes sparkling. “Why do you seem so surprised?”

Mothwing gazed down at her paws as she shuffled them, her ear tips warming in embarrassment.

“Well I guess I’ve just never really thought of myself as smart. Hawkfrost has always been the clever one,” she mumbled. “I mean, just yesterday I screwed up marigold flowers with coltsfoot. How dumb is that?”

“Just because Hawkfrost is smart, doesn’t mean that you can’t be smart too,” Leafpaw said, gentle but firm. “I think you’re smart. Besides, everyone mixes up herbs from time to time. Marigold and coltsfoot are hard since they’re both yellow flowers, but that’s just memorization, which you can practice and get better at. Something that’s much harder to teach, though, is good instincts, and you’ve got that. If you think something more is going on with WindClan and the river, then I believe you.”

Mothwing gave a purr of relief, glancing over at Leafpaw again.

“Thank you. I tried talking with Hawkfrost about this earlier, and he thought it was ridiculous. It made me feel like I was being a complete minnow-brain!”

Leafpaw gave Mothwing’s forehead a brisk lick.

“You may swim like you’re part fish, but your brain certainly isn’t a minnow’s,” she said, beginning to purr as well.

Mothwing narrowed her eyes teasingly.

“I’ll forgive that one since you just helped me, and I’ve already splashed you. But call me a fish again, and I’ll throw you in the river,” she warned with a playful growl.

Leafpaw’s eyes sparkled, unfazed by Mothwing’s empty threat. “And, then you’ll just have to jump into the river and use your great swimming skills to rescue me, proving my point further!” 

The two of them purred louder in laughter, and a burst of warmth unfurled in Mothwing’s chest like a flower blossoming in newleaf. Leafpaw’s shining eyes met Mothwing’s, but Mothwing broke the connection of their gazes after a moment, her stomach suddenly fluttering.

“I better get back to my Clan before cats begin to wonder what happened to me,” Mothwing said softly, drawing away from Leafpaw’s side and rising to her paws.

“Here, take some celandine back with you first. I know it doesn’t grow as well on your territory.” Leafpaw bent her head, picking up a clump of herbs for her before turning to give it to Mothwing.

When Mothwing bent her head down to take the leaves from Leafpaw, her whiskers brushed hers, sending another rush of warmth through Mothwing. Mothwing withdrew her head.

“Thanks,” she mumbled around the herbs in her mouth. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Leafpaw purred, giving a blink. “Take care, Mothwing.”

Mothwing nodded in response, slipping back into the river and paddling to the RiverClan shore before turning back to Hawkfrost’s trail. Her heart both felt more at ease after speaking with her friend, but also more determined. Leafpaw believed in her intuition, and that had to count for something. Mothwing wasn’t going to let her minnow-brained brother command what she was supposed to think.

Mothwing followed Hawkfrost’s scent upstream, and it wasn’t too long before she found him. He was sitting alone at a sheltered bend in the river, one of his favorite fishing spots.

And, the same spot from my dream with Tadpole. Mothwing realized with a blink. But this can’t be what Tadpole wanted me to see because in that dream, it was night.

Hawkfrost was gazing out over the water, but he stirred as she approached him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, shooting her a sharp glance from the corner of his ice-blue eyes.

Mothwing dropped the celandine at her feet.

“Looking for you, minnow-brain,” she said. “I didn’t finish treating your cuts.”

Because Leafpaw had given her these herbs, she now didn’t even have to try to drag Hawkfrost back to camp. Silently thanking Leafpaw, Mothwing got to work chewing up a piece of celandine before gesturing for Hawkfrost to extend his bitten paw to her. He did, and Mothwing brusquely smeared the celandine on the last few cuts she hadn’t gotten to earlier.

“There,” she declared when she was done. “Was that really so bad?”

Hawkfrost sent her another unamused glance, his face creased in a broody frown. Mothwing sighed sharply, giving her ears a shake.

“Look Hawk. I’m sorry for offending you earlier or whatever,” she said. “But, you can’t fault me for speaking my mind. And, you’ve got to admit this situation with WindClan, the river, and the fish is weird. I know you’ve noticed it too. You’re too smart to have not to.”

Hawkfrost’s tail-tip flicked, but besides that gave no visible indication that he heard her. Mothwing rolled her eyes, frustration beginning to nettle her at her brother’s stubbornness.

“Can you just describe to me what you exactly saw with the WindClanners and the fish?” she asked. “If you could just give me a better idea of what was going on there, I won’t bother you as much with all my questions.”

Hawkfrost exhaled slowly, finally turning his head to look over at her properly.

“Fine. But you promise you’ll stop bothering me about it?” he reiterated, his serious gaze meeting hers.

Mothwing shrugged. “Yeah sure.”

“And, you won’t tell anyone else?” Hawkfrost continued, his expression shifting from serious to grave. “I’m trusting you with very sensitive information that is important to the safety of RiverClan. You promise not to betray me or Leopardstar, right Moth?”

Mothwing blinked in bewilderment.

Why is there all this secrecy just around WindClan stealing a fish?!

“You know that I’m loyal to you, Hawk,” Mothwing insisted. “And to RiverClan.”

Hawkfrost nodded solemnly.

“Alright then,” he said. “I didn’t see WindClan stealing fish.”

Mothwing blinked again, giving her head a shake to try to clear her ears.

I couldn’t have heard him right.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I didn’t see WindClan taking any fish,” Hawkfrost repeated, staring at her unblinkingly.

Mothwing’s brow furrowed.

“So they were taking some other prey?” she asked, her voice slow with confusion.

“Not that I witnessed with my own two eyes,” Hawkfrost meowed reluctantly.

Mothwing’s ears flattened against her head, her eyes widening as the entire implication of Hawkfrost’s statement finally hit her all at once.

“What? So you made it all up?!” she gasped, recoiling from him. “You lied to Leopardstar and the Clan and started a fight between RiverClan and WindClan over nothing?! Hawkfrost, how could you!”

“No!” Hawkfrost hissed suddenly, closing the gap between them again as he leaned in close, his eyes blazing. “You’ve got it all backwards! I did not lie to Leopardstar. She knew of and approved everything I did. And, the fight is not over nothing! We know WindClan has wronged us! They have been stealing our water and stealing our food! We know it! Multiple times now, we’ve found their scent trails on our territory! I may as well have seen them steal prey from us with my own eyes!”

“But you haven’t seen it!” Mothwing argued back, her lips curling up in a slight snarl. “It is a lie, Hawkfrost! We still don’t have hard evidence that WindClan—”

“‘Hard evidence?!’” Hawkfrost repeated, cutting her off with a bark of vicious laughter. “There you go, echoing Mistyfoot again like a mockingbird! Can’t you see that she is exactly the reason why Leopardstar and I had to go to the lengths that we did? Despite all the actual ‘hard evidence’ we already have of WindClan’s scent trails on our territory, and your own eye-witness report of WindClan’s streams, Mistyfoot would not be convinced of true wrong-doing unless someone witnessed WindClan stealing our most precious prey source from us with their own two eyes. Otherwise, she would fight tooth-and-claw against Leopardstar from doing anything about it! We had to do it to protect RiverClan from WindClan and from Mistyfoot’s willful blindness!”

Mothwing’s claws slid out to knead anxiously into the ground, conflict whirling in her.

Could Mistyfoot’s more pacifist attitude really be harming RiverClan? But, what was so wrong about trying to give others the benefit of the doubt? Wasn’t that exactly what Mudfur had been trying to encourage Mothwing to do? 

Or is that only good when you’re a medicine cat, but not when you’re the deputy?

“It’s still not right,” Mothwing said, although her voice didn’t sound quite as confident as before.

“It is right,” Hawkfrost insisted, glaring at her. “Leopardstar and I did this for RiverClan.”

Mothwing was silent, conflict still gnawing at her insides. Hawkfrost stared at her hard for a few moments.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?” he demanded. “You promised.”

Mothwing rumbled a low growl, her tail sweeping from side to side. Hawkfrost’s ice-blue gaze nipped at the edges of her fur like the biting leaf-bare wind, worming its way deeper and deeper into her pelt and eventually into her skin. Then as persistent as creeping frost, it spread through her chest until her whole body was frozen over.

“I’ll keep your secret,” she muttered. “But, I’m not happy about it.”

Hawkfrost shrugged with an unbothered air, his blue gaze still frigid. “Eventually you’ll come around and realize that this is for the best.”

Hawkfrost started to turn aside, but Mothwing reached a paw out, touching it to his flank to pause him.

“I’ll keep your secret,” she repeated, her voice becoming firmer. “But only this time. You’re not going to do this again, right Hawkfrost? I mean, I understand that this was an extreme circumstance, and you felt like you had no other choice. But lying like this? I don’t care how you try to justify it, it’s still wrong.”

Hawkfrost glanced back at her, and the look on his face was so cold, it sent a shiver running through Mothwing’s pelt. He drew away from her touch, his lips curling back in a snarl.

“I’ll always do whatever it takes to ensure our safety, Mothwing,” Hawkfrost spat. “Whether you like it or not.”

Chapter Text

Monsters rushed past in a stream of colorful, metallic blurs as Crowpaw and the others slunk down the seemingly endless blocks of the twoleg-place, hiding in the shadows of the hedges that bordered the thunderpath. Crowpaw’s pads were sore and scraped after days of walking on the rough stone ground, and his belly clenched in hunger, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. But, even that meal had only been scraps of some sort of meat Tawnypelt had dug out of a silver twoleg bin, and not proper prey.

Crowpaw’s mouth watered as he thought of the farms they’d left behind and the ample prey they’d found there— mice and rabbits that had grown fat on the seeds from the twoleg’s plants.

His stomach grumbled loudly in response, and Crowpaw forced the memories of delicious freshkill from his mind before he could become even more miserable.

His mood wasn’t helped either by the fact that the evening sky above them was a dark, overcast grey, as it’d been for the past few days. Brambleclaw had insisted that he remembered the direction that the sun had been setting, but Crowpaw couldn’t silence the doubts that hissed in his ears.

We are utterly, hopelessly lost.

Crowpaw swallowed back the growl that threatened in his throat, his claws flexing as anger, anxiety, and despair swirled in him in equal parts.

We’re going to die here, starved to death long before we reach the sundrown-place. If a monster or a twoleg or a dog doesn’t get us first.

He stared at the backs of the others as they prowled ahead of him by a few tail-lengths, his gaze skimming over Brambleclaw’s board tabby shoulders, Tawnypelt’s mottled brown and gold coloring, Squirrelpaw’s bushy red fur, Stormfur’s sleek grey pelt and Feathertail’s silver and black stripes. Their gazes were determinedly locked ahead, and they were all traveling in silence for the moment since it wasn’t yet late enough for all the twolegs to have gone to sleep. 

Did any of them understand how serious their predicament was? Or were they all still clinging to a fragile hope that they would find their way out of this labyrinth of twoleg dens and thunderpaths?

Crowpaw’s eyes settled on Feathertail, the memory of her saltwater sign, which had encouraged them to enter here in the first place, drifting into the front of his mind.

StarClan, why can’t you also send me a sign? Show me something that will help guide us out of here!

He glanced upwards again when they came to a gap in the hedge, desperately hoping that the clouds had parted enough that he’d be able to catch a glimpse of the first few stars appearing in the night sky. But, the sky was still an unbroken sheet of clouds, glowing oddly orange as it reflected back the artificial light of the twoleg dens. 

His stomach twisting with sickening disappointment, Crowpaw lowered his dark blue eyes again. He didn’t know what he’d expected. He was completely disconnected from StarClan here. The hostile, alien landscape of the twoleg-place was the complete antithesis of the Clans’ home in the wild moors, forests, and marshes. And, with the clouds blotting out the sky, and the twoleg’s artificial light dimming the stars, their ancestors had no way to watch over them. StarClan had never felt so distant.

Or maybe, the others in the group didn’t feel that way. Maybe StarClan was only distant for him. Crowpaw was the only chosen cat who hadn’t gotten a saltwater sign, after all. Could Deadfoot have changed his mind on him? Did he no longer have faith that Crowpaw was capable of completing this journey and being able to save WindClan?

Crowpaw’s throat turned dry at that unsettling idea, but he was pulled out of his thoughts when Squirrelpaw glanced back at him, her sharp gaze quickly taking in his troubled expression.

“What’s got your fur in such a twist?” she asked, dropping back to pad at his side.

Crowpaw lashed his tail once. He didn’t want to share his doubts about StarClan’s faith in him with Squirrelpaw. At best, she’d not understand, and at worst, she’d just mock him for it.

“We’re lost,” he growled instead, pushing the thoughts about omens and Deadfoot from his mind.

Squirrelpaw blinked, her brow furrowing.

“Maybe not. How do you know?” she fired back.

“I can just tell,” Crowpaw hissed in a low voice so the others couldn’t overhear, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me that you have so much faith in our ‘fearless leader?’”

He nodded towards Brambleclaw’s back in indication. Squirrelpaw’s jaw set, but Crowpaw didn’t miss the fact that her tail-tip also flicked with uncertainty.

“Brambleclaw is doing his best,” she said firmly. “Besides, what can we do but continue on? One way or another, we’ve got to get to the other side of this twoleg-place.”

Crowpaw shook his head. He didn’t know whether to admire or be annoyed by Squirrelpaw’s sheer stubbornness, and he didn’t get the chance to decide because Brambleclaw suddenly motioned for the patrol to halt with a kink of his tail, a moment later also gesturing for silence. They huddled under the hedge, and Crowpaw’s ears pricked, his gaze scanning through the dense tangle of shadowed branches to try to figure out what was wrong. He quickly put it together when the reek of dog washed over him. 

His pelt bristled, but then he relaxed when he spotted the thing. It was fluffy and white, and not particularly big— maybe only two or three times the size of a cat— and best of all, it was tethered to a twoleg with a piece of rope.

The dog noticed them quickly, its dark brown eyes flashing right to the cats. With a string of yapping barks, it lunged towards the hedge, making the branches shake as it batted at the edge of the bush, but its rope wasn’t long enough for it to actually reach them. 

The twoleg made an annoyed grumble, tugging lightly at the tether to try to coax the dog away. But, the fluffy white dog was insistent, still releasing ear-piercing high-pitched yaps as it tried to get to Crowpaw and his companions.

“What do we do if the twoleg sees us?” Feathertail muttered in a low, worried voice.

“Get lost, flea-brain!” Squirrelpaw hissed to the dog.

“I’ll drive it off,” Stormfur growled.

He slunk forward carefully until he was in striking range of the dog, and he lashed out, scoring a clean hit of his claws right across the dog’s muzzle.

With a yelp of surprise and pain, the dog withdrew, fleeing to hide behind the twoleg’s legs. The twoleg gave it a pat of ressurance on the head before turning aside, leading the dog away and none the wiser to the cats hiding in the bushes right next to them.

“Well done,” Brambleclaw purred to Stormfur.

“Stormfur’s taken care of a few dogs back on RiverClan territory,” Feathertail added, blinking at her brother proudly.

Stormfur gave his chest fur a self-conscious lick at the praise.

“It’s nothing. Most dogs seem scary, but they’re actually just big mouse-hearts,” he said.

Should I have done something? Crowpaw thought as Brambleclaw signaled them forward again. Although it’s not like Stormfur really did much! Just one hit, and it runs off with its tail between its legs!

They continued on down the edge of the thunderpath, coming to a place where the hedge ended for a few fox-lengths. There they cautiously stepped out into the open as they prowled past the entrance to a narrow, dark alleyway, but Tawnypelt paused, lifting her muzzle to the air.

“Mouse,” she breathed, turning towards the alley.

Crowpaw’s stomach clenched at the thought of freshkill, and his mouth flooded with water. He and the others followed Tawnypelt into the shadows of the alley, although they hung back to give her space to hunt. Crowpaw could pick up the warm trace of mouse in the air now as well, buried beneath the other scents of twoleg trash and the foul stench of monsters. 

Tawnypelt stalked down the narrow alleyway, sticking to the darkest shadows, and she placed her paws down as lightly as feathers, not even making a faint sound. Crowpaw gazed after her, unable to help feeling some admiration for her skill. Tawnypelt may have been born in ThunderClan, but she was clearly an expert in the ShadowClan ways of stalking. 

She was approaching a pile of rubbish now. She hesitated for only an instant, her whiskers twitching before she leapt, swiping a paw through the pile of trash and retracting her paw to reveal the small body of a mouse snagged on her claws. As Tawnypelt killed the mouse with a swift bite, the garbage pile rustled, and another mouse scampered from it with a panicked squeak. 

Crowpaw’s ears jutted up, his muscles tensing with eagerness as the mouse fled down the alley, away from Tawnypelt and shooting right towards him instead. Crowpaw lunged for the small rodent, but overeagerness from hunger had made his paws clumsy and the mouse darted under his body, easily escaping his claws. Crowpaw whipped around with a snarl, about to go sprinting after it, but there was no need. In a dark ginger blur, Squirrelpaw sprung neatly onto the mouse and killed it with a single bite.

Tawnypelt trotted back over, her mouse dangling from her jaws.

“Nice save, Squirrelpaw,” Tawnypelt meowed, dropping the prey at her paws. “I hadn’t realized that there were multiple scents.”

Squirrelpaw placed her mouse next to Tawnypelt’s, making a pitifully small freshkill pile.

“No problem. I couldn’t have caught this one if you hadn’t noticed the scent and flushed it out in the first place,” Squirrelpaw said in a humble voice, although her tail still curled up in pride, revealing her true feelings.

Crowpaw bit back a hiss.

Why couldn’t I have caught that mouse instead?! As if Squirrelpaw needs a bigger head!

“Should we split them between all of us?” Brambleclaw asked.

Stormfur nodded, and Feathertail and Squirrelpaw meowed agreement as well.

“I think that makes sense,” Tawnypelt added. “We can try to look for more prey later. We might have better luck once it gets darker and the twolegs finally all go to their dens.”

Tawnypelt, Brambleclaw, and Squirrelpaw huddled around one of the mice, leaving the other for Crowpaw, Feathertail, and Stormfur.

Although frustration still bubbled just beneath the surface for Crowpaw, the emotion was also punctuated by a stab of guilt as Feathertail nudged the still-warm mouse towards Crowpaw for him to take the first bite. 

If Squirrelpaw hadn’t been standing behind me, we wouldn’t even have caught this mouse. We’d be sharing an even more pathetic meal, and it would’ve been my fault.

Crowpaw’s stomach churned, and he no longer felt very hungry.

Maybe it’s not just Deadfoot who doesn’t want me on this mission. Could everyone here have been better off without me? Tawnypelt and Brambleclaw have each other. Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw too. Of course Feathertail and Stormfur, although they also seem pretty friendly with Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt… 

Actually, everyone in the group seems to be getting along with each other pretty well. Everyone but me.

Crowpaw just took a small nibble from the mouse before shoving it back to Feathertail. Feathertail glanced down at the mouse before lifting her sky-blue gaze back up to Crowpaw, her brow furrowed in concern.

“You can take a bigger bite than that, you know,” she said.

“I’m fine,” Crowpaw muttered, refusing to look at her directly. “You and Stormfur finish the rest.”

Although he was doing his best to avoid her eyes, from the edges of his gaze, Crowpaw could still see Feathertail’s face soften.

“Are you alright?” she asked in a voice quiet enough that it only reached his ears. “You haven’t been very talkative lately…”

“I said I’m fine,” Crowpaw growled, clenching his fangs together. 

He turned away from her, stalking to the end of the alley to wait for the others to finish. There he kept watch to make sure no twolegs or monsters were coming their way. 

As his gaze skimmed over the stone sides of twoleg dens and he peered down the long thunderpaths, a bit of guilt nettled at him. He didn’t like snapping at Feathertail, but he also didn’t want to talk to her about what was actually bothering him either. How could he explain to her that he was pretty sure that Deadfoot, his own father, regretted choosing him for this mission?

But, I can’t give up. Crowpaw thought fervently to himself. WindClan is depending on me to complete the journey… somehow.

Crowpaw sighed, but he pushed the emotions back down as the others padded over, their meager meals finished. The group continued on, reentering the hedge and continuing down the thunderpath. 

As the day wore on and it grew darker, twolegs and monsters grew scarcer as well, which Crowpaw was grateful for. The group eventually reached another gap in the hedge, this time for a small thunderpath that intersected the one that they were following. 

Crowpaw’s nose wrinkled. A foul stench permeated the air here, like the dog scent from the mutt they’d encountered earlier, but somehow much worse. Tawnypelt took a single hesitant sniff of the bush where the scent was strongest before releasing a hiss of disgust, her nose wrinkling up.

“This corner of the hedge reeks of dog scent-marker,” she growled.

Feathertail’s ears flattened in concern.

“We’re in a dog’s territory?” she asked. 

“We couldn’t smell it on the thunderpath we’ve been following. My guess is it’s marking this one as its own,” Stormfur responded, pointing his nose to the side to gesture to the smaller thunderpath perpendicular to them.

“Huh. I thought the dogs here would all be owned by twolegs,” Feathertail muttered under her breath.

Tawnypelt shrugged.

“Maybe it escaped. It’s happened before,” she pointed out.

“You don’t think it’s a pack, do you?” Squirrelpaw asked in an unusually small voice, her tail swishing anxiously behind her. “Like the one in the stories?”

Crowpaw blinked, recalling that ThunderClan had been terrorized by dogs some seasons ago, which had caused the death of a few cats. Brambleclaw touched his tail-tip to Squirrelpaw’s shoulder in a silent gesture of reassurance.

“We need to be extra careful,” he rumbled, sweeping a serious amber gaze over the group. “Hopefully the dog will leave us be, if we stay out of its territory— it has marked the border for us after all.”

The others nodded in agreement, and Brambleclaw crept forward until he reached the very edge of the hedge. There he took a moment to carefully assess the area for monsters and dogs. Determining there was no danger in sight, he signaled them forward, and they all went sprinting across the thunderpath right on Brambleclaw’s heels. 

Once they safely reached the other side, the others ducked right back into the hedge, but Crowpaw found his paws slowing. His stomach twisted when he glanced to the side, but it was not because he spotted a dog, or twolegs, or even a monster. It was the sky that had caught his attention. The cloud cover had finally parted enough to let a glimmer of the remaining sunset through. And, the sun was setting there, to his left. Not at all in the direction they’d been walking... for days!

Crowpaw’s claws slid out, scraping against the rough stone ground.

“Wait!” Crowpaw hissed to the others, pulling their focus back to him. “Look at the sun! We’ve been going the wrong way!”

Furrowed brows met his declaration, and Crowpaw jerked his muzzle towards the sunset for emphasis, his shoulder fur prickling. Feathertail was the first to creep back out of the hedge to look, the others cautiously following her.

“Fox-dung. He’s right,” Squirrelpaw muttered once she saw the sunset.

“Of course I’m right!” Crowpaw spat, his tail whipping behind him as his fury grew. “You’d think I’d make something like that up?! But thanks to dung-for-brains here,” He snapped his tail towards Brambleclaw, “we’ve wasted days heading in the wrong direction!”

Brambleclaw’s fur began to prickle defensively, but it was Stormfur who spoke up.

“Hey now, settle down Crowpaw,” he said, his brow furrowing. “Brambleclaw has been trying really hard.”

Crowpaw released a wordless hiss, his claws screeching against the stone and making his toes ache.

“Well if Brambleclaw’s ‘best’ has us chasing our tails like kits, why in StarClan’s name are we following his lead?!” he spat.

Squirrelpaw took a step in front of Brambleclaw, her auburn pelt bristling as she came to her Clanmate’s defense. The sight of the small-statured she-cat trying to physically shield the hulking form of Brambleclaw would have been amusing, if this was at any other moment when Crowpaw wasn’t so furious.

“Anyone could have made that mistake,” Squirrelpaw fired back. “Like you would have done any better.”

“Well now I guess we’ll never know because I was never given the chance,” Crowpaw sneered.

“You know what, you thistle-brain?” Squirrelpaw snarled, her bushy tail lashing. “You think you’re so clever, but you’re no better than—”

Feathertail brushed her tail against Squirrelpaw’s muzzle, cutting her off, although Squirrelpaw still sent Crowpaw a blistering glare. 

“Alright guys that’s enough,” Feathertail said somewhat sternly. “Arguing like this isn’t going to solve our problem.”

“Crowpaw does have a point though,” Tawnypelt said, shooting a glance at her brother from the corner of her eyes. “We have been wasting time.”

Brambleclaw rumbled a low growl of frustration, stepping out from behind Squirrelpaw.

“Look everyone, I’m sorry,” he said. “But, Feathertail is right. We know the right way now, so let’s just correct the mistake and move on. We can’t change the past, so that’s the best we can do.”

Brambleclaw turned, padding back towards the hedge.

“Where are you going?!” Crowpaw demanded, not moving a step. “Have you already forgotten that the setting sun is that way?!”

He pointed down the thunderpath with his tail again.

“And, the dog is also that way,” Brambleclaw growled, turning to look at Crowpaw from over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “It’s too dangerous to go down that thunderpath. We will have to continue on this way, then turn when we’re next able to, so we can avoid entering the dog’s territory.”

Crowpaw shook his head.

“No. We can avoid the dog if we’re careful enough,” he argued. “Besides, it could just be a tiny little mutt like the one earlier.”

“We don’t know that. The price of failure is too high,” Brambleclaw growled between his fangs, his jaw set stubbornly.

“We’ve already lost a few days of travel because of your subpar directional skills, and yet you want us to delay more?!” Crowpaw hissed incredulously, his tail whipping around him. “We’ve already been away from the Clans for more than a moon! What if StarClan’s warning about the ‘great struggle’ is already coming true?! We can’t waste anymore time!”

“No, Brambleclaw’s right,” Stormfur rumbled, moving to stand at the ThunderClan warrior’s side. “There will be another intersection in the thunderpath— one without a roaming dog.”

Crowpaw’s frustration only grew, bubbling up higher and higher in his chest.

“Rabbit-brains!” he hissed. “And what do we do if the thunderpath twists, and the sun goes behind the clouds, and we lose our way again?”

“Then we wait for the sun to come back out again,” Tawnypelt drawled, rolling her eyes. “Look, I’m annoyed too, Crowpaw. But, I’m not so annoyed that I’m going to go running straight into a dog’s fangs to prove a point.”

Crowpaw shot her a glare.

“And how many more days will that be until the sun returns? I didn’t think that ShadowClan warriors were afraid of dogs,” he taunted.

Tawnypelt’s green eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m not scared. But in ShadowClan, cats are smart enough to understand when it’s worth risking losing your pelt. This isn’t one of those times.”

Crowpaw swept an outraged look over the group. Squirrelpaw had of course joined with Brambleclaw, Stormfur and Tawnypelt, shooting Crowpaw a poisonous glance as she did so. Only Feathertail remained seemingly undecided, hovering between Crowpaw and the rest. But then finally she too drifted over to the others, reaching her brother’s side. Brambleclaw gave a self-satisfied nod when he saw that Crowpaw was entirely out-voted.

“Come on,” Brambleclaw growled, turning back towards the hedge.

Crowpaw’s muscles tensed as the last fraying strand of his self-control finally snapped.

“Fine! Do whatever you rabbit-brains want!” he snarled, spittle flying from his jaws. “But I’m going this way!”

“Crowpaw—” Feathertail started to say.

But Crowpaw was already whipping around, his ears flattened against his head to block out her voice. Without hesitation, he shot down the smaller thunderpath, his paws crossing the dog’s scent markers as he sprinted towards the setting sun.

“Crowpaw!” Brambleclaw yowled out after him, his voice sharp with anger, but surprisingly, maybe also a hint of concern.

Crowpaw then received another surprise when he heard the sound of their paw-steps behind him. Despite him going against their wishes, they weren’t going to leave him alone. Or, maybe they just wanted to grab him and drag him back the way they wanted to go?

Fat chance catching me though!

Crowpaw may have been stuck with this band of misfits for the past moon, but he was still a WindClan cat through and through.

Throwing stealth to the wayside, Crowpaw opened his stride, his long legs eating up the ground. The way ahead was luckily clear of twolegs or any other hazards, giving Crowpaw the space to run as much as he wished. And besides the scent markers, there was also no hint of the supposedly ‘dangerous’ roaming dog. 

Crowpaw’s paws pounded rhythmically against the flat, stone ground, propelling him further and further down the thunderpath, and he could hear the others panting behind him, only a few fox-lengths away. The wind buffeted against Crowpaw’s nose, bringing with it another wave of the dog’s scent-markers.

We’ve already reached the other edge of its territory? And, everyone was getting so worried about this mange-pelt! I knew it wouldn’t be a problem.

Crowpaw scoffed to himself, his pace slowing as he trotted over the second set of scent-markers and turned to face the rest of the patrol as they followed him over a few moments later, panting as they came to a stumbling stop. Squirrelpaw was glowering at him so fiercely, Crowpaw was almost surprised that his pelt didn’t spontaneously catch fire. Brambleclaw didn’t look any more pleased, but Crowpaw met the ThunderClan warrior’s gaze unflinchingly, his lip curling up.

“Do you believe me now? Was that really so horrible?!” Crowpaw demanded. “I’m only trying to help, you don’t have to—”

Crowpaw’s voice was cut off by a sudden gasp from Feathertail as her gaze darted to something behind him. Her ears flattened in fear, and her eyes widened to the size of moons.

“Dogs!” she rasped, sending a jolt of cold panic piercing straight through him.

Crowpaw whipped around in time to see a massive, dark shadow lope around the corner of a hedge, followed by a smaller tan companion. 

The black one was much bigger than any dog Crowpaw had ever seen before. Its night-dark eyes glinted with bloodlust as they locked on the cats, and its huge jaws stretched wide, while the smaller dog released an excited yip.

Crowpaw’s heart leapt up to his throat as with a baying howl, the big dog lunged for him. Crowpaw sprung, shooting out of its way just as its jaws snapped shut only a whisker-length from his tail, the force of the bite through the air sending a shiver rippling through his pelt. 

“Run!” Brambleclaw yowled.

Everyone scattered, and the dogs whipped around, snapping at the fleeing cats. The big one went after Tawnypelt next, who had been a bit too slow in dashing away, while the smaller one shot after Feathertail and Stormfur. 

Crowpaw’s stomach clenched, icy fear flooding him as the big brute loomed over Tawnypelt, its lips curled back in a gruesome snarl. But then Brambleclaw darted in, his claws snagging at the dog’s side for just the briefest moment before he pelted off. He hadn’t done any real damage to the huge beast, but he’d at least distracted it enough for Tawnypelt to shoot out of the dog’s reach, her tail bushed out in terror.

With Tawnypelt safely out of range, Crowpaw’s attention flashed back to the large dog. It was chasing Brambleclaw now, its focus zeroed into him as if determined to get revenge for its clawed pelt. It was gaining quickly enough that it seemed like Brambleclaw could soon lose his entire tail if he wasn’t careful. Crowpaw’s muscles coiled into knots, and he launched himself after the dog, his legs eating up the ground as he caught up to it. Brambleclaw must have heard his pawsteps because his gaze darted back towards him and understanding flashed in his amber eyes.

“Don’t worry about me! Get to safety! Run!” Brambleclaw shouted.

Crowpaw clenched his jaw.

Don’t tell me what to do, rabbit-brain!

The dog put on a sudden burst of speed, lunging for Brambleclaw and catching the tip of his tail in its jaws. Brambleclaw hissed but his tail was luckily protected by his dense pelt. He managed to wrench it free, leaving only clumps of fur behind in the dog's jaws. But, now the dog had slowed Brambleclaw enough that it had an opening for another, far more deadly, bite.

Anger and desperation fueling him, Crowpaw leapt towards the dog without even allowing himself another moment to think. He landed clumsily on its hindquarters, his rear-paws churning in the air as he almost fell too short. But, then he dug his fore-claws in, firming his grip as he quickly scrambled up its back to its shoulders. The dog released a surprised yelp as his claws raked its spine, and Crowpaw clung even more tightly to it to keep himself from flying off as it screeched to a sudden stop. 

The dog’s head whipped from side to side, its jaws snapping for Crowpaw. Crowpaw’s terrified heartbeat thumped in his ears, but he was narrowly able to keep his paws out of the reach of its fangs. With a furious, frustrated snarl, the dog changed tactics and instead shook its pelt, trying to dislodge him. 

Crowpaw hissed as the violent jostling knocked his head around.

Fox-dung! This flea-brain is smarter than it looks!

Crowpaw clenched his eyes shut, growling to himself as he clung on like a stubborn tick while the world convulsed nauseatingly around him.

StarClan save me!

But, if Crowpaw was thrown off and torn apart, he could at least comfort himself in his final moments with the fact that the others would have been given enough time to get away from the larger dog. 

Finally, when it felt like Crowpaw’s head was about to be shaken clean off his body, the dog stopped its thrashing. But Crowpaw was only given the briefest moments of relief because then a familiar, frightened yowl pierced the air, echoing over from some distance away. Crowpaw’s head jerked up in fear, his muzzle whipping towards the voice.

Feathertail! 

Crowpaw’s muscles tensed as he prepared to leap off the dog’s back and sprint towards her cry. But, before he could move a muscle, the big dog took advantage of his distraction. He’d carelessly let one of his paws slip too far down its side— a fact he was rudely made aware of when the dog’s jaws clamped around one of his hind-legs.

Crowpaw cried out, sharp pain radiating out from the limb as a few of the dog’s fangs punctured deeply into his skin. The coppery tang of blood filled the air as the dog ripped Crowpaw from its back, tossing him several fox-lengths away as if he weighed no more than a clump of moss. Crowpaw hit the stone ground with a dull thud, the air driven from his lungs. Crowpaw’s paws scrabbled feebly on the ground as he struggled back to his feet just in time to see the dog’s great maw gaping over him, strands of saliva dripping from huge, white fangs.

Then with a loud, skin-crawling snap, those fangs clicked closed on only air as, from out of nowhere, Squirrelpaw landed squarely on top of the dog’s face and muzzle, forcing its jaws shut.

“Have you gone deaf?!” she shrieked at Crowpaw. “Run, you stupid furball!”

Crowpaw didn’t need any more prompting than that. As Squirrelpaw sprung off of the furiously growling dog’s face and sprinted away, Crowpaw was right on her tail. Although Squirrelpaw’s short legs were working furiously and one of Crowpaw’s legs was injured, he still soon caught up to her, terror adding to his speed as they fled for their lives. The wet, rasping pants of the dog behind them made Crowpaw’s fur stand on end, but he forced himself to match his pace to Squirrelpaw’s slower one. He couldn’t leave her behind, especially not after she’d just saved him.

“Up here!” Tawnypelt cried.

Squirrelpaw veered towards her voice immediately, and Crowpaw followed her. He glanced up, spotting Tawnypelt perched on the thin top of a fence made from long wood planks. She waved her tail at them urgently, and Squirrelpaw launched herself at the fence, scrambling up and clinging to the narrow top with her claws. Crowpaw desperately threw himself up after her, but a sharp twinge of pain shot through his hind-leg, hampering his leap. His fore-paws hooked onto the top of the fence, but his belly slammed into the wooden planks, making him hiss as another surge of pain rocked through him. The dog below them barked furiously, and Crowpaw could almost feel the heat of its breath on his tail and heels. But, then sharp teeth met his scruff, and Tawnypelt was hauling Crowpaw fully onto the fence. 

The dog’s thundering barks took on an edge of frustration, and the fence began to wobble as it threw itself determinedly against it, rearing up on its hind paws, its jaws gaping only a few tail-lengths below the cats.

“Holy fox-dung! Is it gonna knock it down?!” Squirrelpaw cried, her claws sinking so deeply into the fence, wood splintered beneath them.

“Let’s not wait to find out!” Tawnypelt hissed. “Come on!”

She sprung down onto the other side of the fence and into some twoleg’s garden, Crowpaw and Squirrelpaw just behind her. Moving as fast as they could manage, Tawnypelt led them through a maze around twoleg dens, through yards and over fences and walls, until finally, the dog’s barking faded behind them. 

Tawnypelt finally came to a stop in a dark alley that reeked of twoleg garbage, but all of them were panting so hard, they sucked in the foul air greedily, as if it was actually laced with the sweetest scents of heather. Crowpaw then promptly flopped to the ground, stretching out his bitten hind-leg to assess the injury. Besides two gashes from the dog’s longest fangs, the rest of the wound wasn’t horrible, although Crowpaw would have to take care to make sure the deeper cuts didn’t get infected. Crowpaw gingerly rasped his tongue over the wound, cleaning it out and washing the blood from his pelt. Squirrelpaw was grooming herself as well, attempting to flatten her anxiously prickling fur, but Tawnypelt just stared at the two of them.

“Are you hurt?” she asked Squirrelpaw.

Squirrelpaw shook her head ‘no,’ and Tawnypelt turned her attention to Crowpaw. She nodded towards the bite.

“And, how bad is that?” she meowed.

Crowpaw glanced up at her.

“I’ll live,” he grumbled.

“Good, because I’m going to kill you myself!” Squirrelpaw suddenly exploded, giving up on her bristling fur as she leapt back to her paws. “What kind of mouse-brained stunt was that, leading us right into those dogs?!”

Crowpaw’s stomach clenched, but he ignored her in favor of scenting the air, searching for a trace of their other companions. He kept his gaze on Tawnypelt.

“Where are the others?” he asked in a low voice.

Tawnypelt shook her head, her ears twisting back. “I lost track of them in the chaos. The last I saw Feathertail and Stormfur, the smaller tan dog was going after them. I assume it chased them off somewhere. And, Brambleclaw… I’m not sure. Maybe he also ended up with them.”

Crowpaw growled softly to himself as the memory of Feathertail’s terrified cry echoed in his mind. He hauled himself to his paws.

“We need to go back and find them,” he said.

He turned to face back the way they came, but Tawnypelt whipped her tail out in front of him before he could even think about taking a step.

“Absolutely not,” she growled, locking him in a stern green gaze. “We can’t go back right now with those dogs still loose in the area! We have to stay put. Let’s rest here for the night then when it’s morning, we go back to where we were separated. It’s the reasonable thing to do, and I’m sure that Brambleclaw, Feathertail and Stormfur will be thinking similarly.”

Crowpaw’s tail lashed in apprehension, his claws scraping against the rough stone beneath them. “Didn’t you hear Feathertail’s yowl? They could be hurt and—”

“And, who’s fault is that?!” Squirrelpaw snarled venomously, cutting him off and taking an aggressive step towards Crowpaw, drawing his gaze back to her. “Did you not learn your lesson after all this and those kittypets on the farm? Tawnypelt is being sensible right now, so please listen to someone other than yourself for once!”

Crowpaw growled, his eyes narrowing as anger rose up in his chest again, replacing his worry.

“This is Brambleclaw’s fault!” he spat. “If he hadn’t gotten us so lost—”

“Shut up and take responsibility for your actions, you stupid, stubborn furball!” Squirrelpaw yowled at the top of her lungs, drowning out his voice as her entire ginger pelt stood on-end. “Your selfish recklessness put us all at risk! You didn’t listen to us when we said not to go down the thunderpath. Then when the dogs attacked, you decided to try to be a feather-brained hero instead of running away! If you’d fled like Brambleclaw said, we’d at least all be together right now! But no, Tawnypelt and I had to come back for you because if we didn’t, you’d have been dog-food!”

“I attacked the dog because it was about to catch Brambleclaw,” Crowpaw growled, grinding out the words between his fangs. “I saved his life.”

“Only after putting it in danger in the first place!” Squirrelpaw hissed, jabbing a paw at his chest. “I swear, if Stormfur or Feathertail or- or B-Brambleclaw…” 

Squirrelpaw’s voice began to waver, and sudden worry welled up in her big green eyes until it looked like they were about to overflow. 

That quiet, broken affect, so unlike the loud, spirited Squirrelpaw Crowpaw had grown to know, did something to him. He found his fury beginning to dim, as instead, dread and dismay took hold of him as strongly as the cold in leafbare. 

All of Crowpaw’s energy was drained away with his anger. Rage was stimulating— it roared and fueled, spurning him on. But, dread didn’t. Dread was a void, yawning in his chest, leeching away all hope until there was only misery left.

Squirrelpaw took a shaky breath, and finally managed to continue in a hoarse voice. “If any of them are dead because of this… I’ll… I’ll never forgive you.”

Crowpaw’s stomach clenched, and his gaze slowly drifted from Squirrelpaw to Tawnypelt.

“Do you feel the same way?” he asked in a low voice.

Tawnypelt’s ears flattened against her head, betraying her worry, although her cool green eyes remained mostly composed.

“That was a really frog-brained decision, Crowpaw,” she said finally. “But, I think you know that.”

Crowpaw folded his ears back and gripped the rough ground with his claws, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs.

“Fine. I understand what you want,” he muttered in a low, gravelly voice. “I get it. None of you have ever wanted me here in the first place anyway.”

Crowpaw turned, brushing past Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw without looking at their faces and padding towards the alley’s exit, his steps stiff and his head bowed.

“What are you doing?” Tawnypelt called after him.

Crowpaw clenched his jaw, but didn’t look back.

“I’m giving you what you want. I’m leaving,” he growled to the ground. “I will finish my part of the journey to the sundrown-place alone.”

“What?” Tawnypelt began, her tone incredulous. “Crowpaw—“

Crowpaw pinned his ears back to drown out her voice. His stomach twisted into knots, and for the second time that day, he threw himself forward, running away from the others. 

Like before, Crowpaw could hear them calling after him, but this time, Crowpaw didn’t give them the chance to catch up. Instead, pushed on by the throbbing pain of misery in his chest, he dodged and weaved, taking sharp corners, leaping over small walls and hedges despite the protesting of his hurt leg. Soon enough, the sounds of Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw shouting his name faded into nothingness, and Crowpaw was utterly alone. 

Panting, Crowpaw slowed to a stop near a twoleg’s den. Suddenly not having the strength to continue even a heartbeat longer, he crawled into the nearest bush, aching from nose to tail. He collapsed onto the damp ground beneath the branches unceremoniously, his entire body trembling from what he told himself was just hunger and exhaustion, but deep down, he knew it was also something more. 

Crowpaw buried his face in his paws, a choked sob suddenly rising up in his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to push it back down with only minor success.

None of them want me here. Not even StarClan seems to want me here anymore... All I can ever do is mess things up. Deadfoot, why did you even send me on this Stars-forsaken journey? I just want to go back to WindClan. To Mom. I wanna go home.

Trembling even more violently than before, Crowpaw curled himself into the smallest ball possible and closed his eyes, letting sleep wash him away.

Chapter Text

When Crowpaw stirred in the fragile pre-dawn light, for a brief heartbeat he thought that perhaps the events of yesterday were all just a bad dream, and he’d find himself nestled near the motley colored pelts of his companions. But instead, as his eyes opened, he awoke to stiff, sore muscles, his throbbing leg wound, and a belly yowling with hunger like it’d never known food before. 

And, he was still alone. Completely, achingly alone.

Growling quietly to himself, Crowpaw pulled his paws under him and gave his wounded leg a groom so he could keep the cut clean. He sniffed the wound afterwards, careful to check for infection. It wasn’t hot under his nose, and the color didn’t look strange… so he was probably okay. Right?

How am I supposed to tell? I’m not a medicine cat. Although Squirrelpaw was taught some herbs by her sister…

Crowpaw gave his head a quick shake. There was no point in thinking about that. Even if he was still with Squirrelpaw, the chance that she’d be able to find any herbs in this twoleg-place was miniscule.

What about the others? Could Feathertail, Stormfur or Brambleclaw have gotten a worse injury by the other dog? Are they alright without a medicine cat to help them?

Crowpaw’s belly lurched in fear for a moment, but then he screwed his eyes shut, violently shoving the thoughts down.

They’re grown warriors. They can take care of themselves. Besides, why should I be worrying about them when they never cared about me?

His cut taken care of, Crowpaw turned his focus to the next most pressing issue: his cramping stomach. It was even more hollow now than yesterday after the fight with the dogs had exhausted whatever energy stores he’d had left.

I need to find some food.

Determined to focus on that rather than letting any more horrible, anxious thoughts about yesterday, or his former companions creep into his mind, Crowpaw crawled out from the bush and encountered more bad luck. The sky was a uniform sheet of grey, obscuring the sun’s position, and a drizzle fell down from the cloud cover. Although it wasn’t storming by any means, the persistent mist quickly dampened Crowpaw’s short pelt, and he was soon soaked to the skin. Despite the late greenleaf air, Crowpaw found himself suppressing a shiver as a feeling of cold and weakness rippled through him, leaving him unsteady on his paws and his head feeling fuzzy.

I really need to eat.

Crowpaw staggered down the edge of the thunderpath in what he hoped was opposite from the rising sun. He soon encountered an alleyway similar to the one they’d hunted in yesterday, and Crowpaw’s mouth flooded with water as the warm scent of mouse drifted over to him. Clenching his belly to keep his stomach from growling, Crowpaw slipped down in a hunting crouch that was slightly unbalanced thanks to his rather weakened state. He still did his best to slink down after the mouse scent, and he soon spotted the small rodent darting from one clump of twoleg trash to the next.

Hardly daring to breathe, Crowpaw crept forward as silently as he could, thanking StarClan that he had a dark coat that blended into the shadows. But, Crowpaw was still outside of pouncing distance when he made some kind of indiscernible misstep. Maybe he hadn’t stuck well enough to the shadows, or hadn’t placed his paws down softly enough, but whatever the cause, the mouse’s gaze flashed to him, and then in an instant, it took off.

Swallowing back a curse, Crowpaw lunged forward, but it was already too late. The mouse had slipped into a tiny crack in the stone wall that lined the alley and vanished. Crowpaw clenched his jaw, almost wanting to wail in despair as the tempting scent of fresh-kill lingered mockingly in his nose.

Tawnypelt would’ve caught that, if only she had been here. But you ran away from her, you absolute rabbit-brain!

Crowpaw shook his head, knocking the thought from his mind. 

She didn’t want me around, and I don’t need her!

Crowpaw determinedly turned away from the mouse’s hole. He couldn’t dwell on his hunting failure; all he could do was keep going and try to find more prey. Crowpaw gave the piles of twoleg trash a hesitant sniff. He was desperate enough to settle for anything edible that he could scavenge from there, but the smell of rotting plants was the only thing that hit his nose. Crowpaw turned away and moved on.

As he padded on, Crowpaw kept an eye towards the cloudy sky, but it was near impossible to tell where the sun was exactly behind the grey sheet. He was also having trouble recalling the direction of the sunset from yesterday… Maybe he hadn’t been giving Brambleclaw quite enough credit before when it came to navigating them through the twoleg-place. 

The sound of a thump yanked Crowpaw from his thoughts. His gaze flashed over to see a twoleg emerging from a nearby den. The twoleg paused for a moment to yawn deeply, his square, white teeth flashing in the unnatural yellow light radiating from the den. But, then the twoleg’s eyes found Crowpaw, and he froze just as Crowpaw did. After a moment of stillness, the twoleg crouched down very slowly and extended a large, hairless paw in Crowpaw’s direction, making a soft cooing noise in the back of his throat.

Shaking off his surprise, Crowpaw darted away, ducking under a hedge and shooting through a few gardens. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he imagined that at any moment, the twoleg would come thundering after him. But, when he glanced over his shoulder, there was no pursuer.

Crowpaw slowed his pace with a sigh of relief and took a moment to assess the garden where he’d ended up. It was one of the larger ones that he’d encountered with a small pond in the corner. Crowpaw padded over to it to take a drink, but as he lapped up the cool water, he blinked in surprise as he spotted a few large, golden fish darting in the shallows only a few mouse-lengths beneath his nose.

Even at the sight of such unusual prey, Crowpaw’s stomach clenched painfully, and water flooded his mouth again.

Those fish are huge! Even half of one would be an entire meal.

Crowpaw experimentally pawed at the water, but as soon as his paw brushed the surface, the fish shot away, fleeing to the deeper parts of the pool. They were at least still close, trapped in this small pond. But, how was Crowpaw supposed to get them? He could jump into the water and do his best to just chase one down and snag it with his claws, but that seemed like a rather ineffective way to fish. Although Crowpaw was just about hungry enough to give anything a try.

I never even got the chance to learn how to fish from Feathertail. Or, if Stormfur was here, he could also help…

Crowpaw growled to himself, his jaw clenching in frustration at his thoughts.

Why did everything he encounter today just seem to remind him of those stupid furballs! How could he not just put them out of his mind? They made it clear that they didn’t care for him— didn’t want to be his friend— so why couldn’t he just forget them too?!

Feathertail wanted to be your friend.

Crowpaw shook his ears, pushing back against the thought.

No she didn’t. She’s just nice to everyone. She was only kind to me out of pity, since I didn’t have a Clanmate here with me.

But would she have really told just anyone the things that she told you? The persistent thought argued. About her family, about TigerClan, or her Clanmates? She was vulnerable to you, and kind, and asked you if you were okay. And, you repaid her by leaving her to be dog-food and then running away when Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt wanted to find her and the others.

No.

Yes.

Crowpaw sunk his claws into the ground with a growl of frustration, but he couldn’t silence the thoughts. They only grew in volume.

And everyone else? They still followed you when you ran down the dogs’ thunderpath. Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw even yowled your name over and over when you ran from them. If they really wanted you to leave, why would they have done that?

“Shut up,” Crowpaw hissed aloud to himself, his eyes suddenly stinging. “I didn’t… This is their fault. They didn’t want me here. I just— I—“

Crowpaw inhaled sharply as the fragile barrier of denial in his mind snapped, guilt and worry and anguish suddenly flooding through him instead.

Why did I run away from them? Why did I go down that thunderpath when I knew there could be dogs there? Why do I make these stupid decisions? Now I don’t even know if Feathertail, Stormfur, and Brambleclaw are still alive!

Maybe Mudclaw has been right all along. I’m not good enough to be a warrior. I put my Clanmates at risk. I’m dumb and impulsive and stubborn…

A burst of self-loathing exploded in his chest, and Crowpaw slammed his forepaws down against the pool’s surface, showering himself with water, although it hardly mattered since the rain had already long since soaked him through.

“Ugh! Idiot!” he snarled down at his distorted reflection in the water’s rippling surface. “You stupid, stupid rabbit-brain! Why can’t you do anything right? I hate you! I hate you!”

“And now why is that?”

A jolt of panic rocketed through Crowpaw at the sudden voice. He jerked around to face it, a loud, raspy hiss busting from his throat. The stranger who the voice belonged to took a step back, lifting a paw in a pacifying gesture.

“Woah there son,” he said. “I don’t mean to harm ya none.”

Crowpaw blinked, the haze of anger in his mind clearing some as he took a closer look at the cat, although his back remained arched defensively. The tom was standing on the other side of the yard, several fox-lengths away from him. He was a small cat with clumped, messy dark tabby fur, grey hairs flecking his muzzle, and a friendly amber gaze.

He’s an elder.

Crowpaw relaxed his defensive posture, although his pelt remained half-bristled as the moons and moons of conditioning from WindClan to respect elders battled in him against his instinctive reaction to be hostile to any strange cat.

“Sorry for startling ya,” the elder continued. “I was just on my way over to that there pond— was fancin’ a fish, you see— and well, I couldn’t help overhearin’... Something troubling ya?”

Crowpaw’s ears twitched back at the sound of the cat’s odd accent. It reminded him a bit of the way the aggressive kittypets on the farm spoke, but this elder’s voice had even more of a twang than those cats did.

Crowpaw glanced away from the elder.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

The elder took a seat and stretched a hindpaw up to casually scratch at one of his ears.

“Really now?” the old cat said. “‘Cause I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve met many ‘fine’ and ‘not fine’ cats. And I gotta say, you weren’t soundin’ very fine before.”

Crowpaw’s claws slid out and flexed into the ground in frustration. Why couldn’t this elder take a hint and just leave him alone?

“It’s too long of a story to explain,” Crowpaw grumbled, his tail-tip flicking.

Finishing his scratching, the elder rose to his paws and padded towards Crowpaw, seemingly emboldened by the fact that Crowpaw was no longer hissing or growling at him.

“Well lucky for you I’ve got nothin’ else to do today,” the old cat said, rumbling a brief, rusty purr. “And, I love long stories. So, why don’t I catch us one of these fish to share, and you can tell me what’s wrong, huh?”

Crowpaw rumbled a growl under his breath, but the elder was seemingly not going to take ‘No’ for an answer. He’d already taken a seat at the edge of the pond and lifted one of his paws as if readying himself to snag a fish, his eyes skimming over the water while he waited for one to come nearby. 

Crowpaw’s belly grumbled so powerfully at the thought of food, it felt like it shook his entire body. He wanted that freshkill so badly, but it seemed like he would only get it if he indulged the elder’s curiosity. 

The old cat glanced over at him and lifted his brows expectantly. Crowpaw sighed sharply, his will finally crumbling away at the prospect of having a full meal.

“Fine,” he muttered, conceding. “My name is Crowpaw. And… I’m not from around here.”

Crowpaw started from the beginning, briefly explaining the Clans to the elder, before diving into his dream and the prophecy from StarClan that prompted this journey to the sundrown-place. The elder nodded along patiently the whole while, although Crowpaw wasn’t sure if he truly understood what Crowpaw meant by ‘prophecies’ and ‘StarClan.’

The more Crowpaw spoke, the easier he found the words coming to him. Oddly, it was a relief in some ways to unburden everything onto a cat who didn’t know him at all. This elder had no stake in Crowpaw, or this journey, or the Clans. Crowpaw could share everything with him without fear of real judgment or consequence.

So Crowpaw told him about his traveling companions— Annoying Squirrelpaw. Bossy Brambleclaw. Practical Tawnypelt. Reserved Stormfur. And kind, patient Feathertail. Crowpaw described the way they’d fight and argue, and how so many times they’d made him want to pull his own fur out as they’d journeyed together for over a moon from their home to these distant lands. He told the elder of the trials they faced, but somehow how every time, they’d managed to overcome them. That was until they reached the twoleg-place…

“And then I left them,” Crowpaw rasped, his ears flattening down against his head in shame. “I left them to finish my journey to the sundrown-place alone.”

The elder blinked. His paw was still raised, no fish caught, even though plenty had swam past them by now. But, Crowpaw wasn’t sure if he even wanted the food anymore. He might not deserve it. 

Crowpaw sunk to the ground, resting his chin on his paws to gaze miserably down at the murky water.

“Why?” the elder asked in a gentle mew.

Crowpaw screwed his eyes shut for a moment.

“Because I was stupid!” he hissed. “It’s been really cloudy lately, right? We were having trouble because we couldn’t see the sun to follow. That is, until yesterday evening when the clouds parted, and we got a glimpse of the sunset. We realized we’d been going the wrong way. Brambleclaw had been the one navigating, so I got mad at him… Then I ran off towards the sunset even though the others said not to because we’d smelled dogs that way. I was dumb, but they all followed me anyway, and then the dogs attacked us…”

The elder nodded down towards the cuts on Crowpaw’s leg.

“And that’s where you got bit?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” Crowpaw muttered, his ears folding down even flatter against his skull. “But, that’s not the worst of it. The dogs separated us— me, Squirrelpaw, and Tawnypelt from the others. Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt are okay. But, I don’t know if Feathertail, Stormfur, or Brambleclaw are. And if they got hurt… or… or if any of them died… it’s— it’s my fault!”

Crowpaw bit back a wail of anguish. He clenched his jaw tightly to keep the noise from escaping, but it was difficult. The worst-case scenario was flooding his mind, and he couldn’t shake the mental image of Feathertail’s, Stormfur’s, or Brambleclaw’s torn and broken bodies lying somewhere in a thunderpath while Feathertail’s yowl of terror echoed in his head again and again.

“Where are Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt now?” the elder asked softly, breaking through the horrible mental image.

“I ran away from them,” Crowpaw hissed, raking his claws through the dirt. “They told me this was my fault, and I got mad, and I… But, the thing is, they’re right. It is my fault. And, now I can’t stop thinking about them, and I’m so worried. But I can’t go back either.”

“Why not?” the elder gently prompted.

Crowpaw lashed his tail.

“Are you rabbit-brained?” he snapped, shooting a glare over at the old cat. “Because of everything I just said! I put their lives at risk; I might have hurt or even killed them! Why would they want me around?”

The elder gazed at him with patient amber eyes. “Well you’ll never know unless you ask.”

Crowpaw snorted.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered sarcastically, looking away from him again.

“Ya know, sometimes the best thing you can do when you make a mistake is just go and say you’re sorry,” the elder continued. “What do you gain from runnin’ away, but more misery? Who knows, maybe your friends do want ya around.”

“They’re not my friends,” Crowpaw muttered down to the pool. “We’re not even from the same Clan, remember?”

“Well I may not know much about these ‘Clans,’” the old cat said with a thoughtful blink. “But, I’d say when you travel leagues with the same few cats for over a moon, ya get to call them your friends.”

Crowpaw was silent, unsure of how to respond to that. But, he was saved from doing so when the old cat suddenly sprang into motion, his paw lashing out and hooking a massive golden fish out of the pool. The elder slammed it to the ground, killing it with a well placed hit to the head before the fish could try flopping back into the water.

“Well now look at that,” the elder said, rumbling a purr. “We’ve got ourselves a big one.”

Crowpaw’s mouth immediately flooded with saliva, but the elder placed his paw on the fish, casually stopping Crowpaw from eating yet.

“So Crowpaw, I reckon you’ve got yourself a question to answer,” he said, blinking at him. “What are ya going to do now? Go back to your friends? Or keep runnin’?”

Crowpaw blinked, tearing his gaze from the fish. His eyes met the wise elder’s, and sudden determination rushed through him. He had to go help his companions if they were hurt. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise. Even though this was his fault, and even if they didn’t want him around anymore… that was fine. But, he still owed it to them to at least try. 

Crowpaw set his jaw. 

“I’m going after them,” he said.

The elder released a loud purr, his amber eyes brightening. “That’s wonderful. And I think I can help you with that. Let me guess, the dogs that attacked y’all, were they a big black-furred mutt and a smaller tan brute?”

Crowpaw blinked in surprise. “Yes, exactly… how did you know that?”

“I know this town like the back of my paw,” the elder boasted, puffing out his chest. “Those dogs are always out roamin’ every evening it seems, causin’ trouble. I know where their territory is. I’ll take you back there, and we’ll pick up their trail.”

Crowpaw stared at the elder in shock.

“You’d really do all that for me?” he asked. “But I don’t even know your name…”

The elder scratched his chin with a hindpaw again. “Well, I’ve got nothin’ else to do today, like I said. As for my name… well I haven’t properly used one in moons. But my old upwalker used to call me Purdy.”

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Upwalker?” he echoed. “Do you mean a twoleg?”

Purdy blinked.

“Well I suppose they do have two legs. Never heard anyone call ‘em that before though.”

Crowpaw’s pelt prickled.

He used to be a kittypet?

For a moment, disgust churned in his gut at the idea of any cat willingly submitting himself to a twoleg, but Crowpaw quickly pushed away the emotion with a stab of shame.

Who am I to judge Purdy after he just heard about the terrible thing I did and offered to help me anyway? Besides, it doesn’t sound like he’s a kittypet anymore. He said ‘old upwalker.’

“Well, alright,” Crowpaw said in a quiet voice. “Thank you. We should leave soon.”

He knew that Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw at least, if they stuck to their plan from yesterday, would probably be back in that area around the dogs’ thunderpath soon, looking for the others. If he waited too long, he might miss them.

“Happy to help,” Purdy purred. “And yeah we should, but not until we eat this delicious fish. I could hear your belly growlin’ from across the garden!”

Purdy removed his paw from the piece of freshkill and nudged it towards Crowpaw for him to eat first. Crowpaw didn’t need any more prompting than that. Eagerly, he ducked his head, sinking his teeth deeply into the flesh so that he could take a big bite. But, as soon as his tongue touched the still-damp side of the fish, Crowpaw recoiled with a hiss of disgust without tearing off any meat. 

The flavor from the droplets on his tongue was awful— something horribly strong and briny.

“What the—” Crowpaw spluttered with another hiss, shooting Purdy a glare. “Is this some kind of trick?! I thought you said it was supposed to be good!”

“Whaddya mean?” Purdy asked, blinking in confusion.

Crowpaw watched him with wary, narrowed eyes as Purdy bent over to tear off a big chunk of the fish, chewing thoroughly without any hint of a grimace on his face, and then swallowing.

“It’s perfect! Just like always!” Purdy said, tilting his head. “Do ya not like fish?”

Crowpaw’s nose twitched. The exposed bit of fish meat wafted temptingly through the air— sweet with only a touch of salt, and not at all like the strong, briny flavor that still lingered in Crowpaw’s mouth. He hesitantly ducked his head to nibble on the side of the fish. 

The sweet meat that touched his tongue was an unusual taste for Crowpaw, since he was so used to rabbit, but it was not at all unpleasant. 

Crowpaw’s eyes stretched wide as understanding finally hit him like a boulder.

The salty flavor… It must have been my saltwater sign! I got it... I finally got it. 

A lump of emotion formed in the back of Crowpaw’s throat, and the relief that came with it was so strong, he almost wanted to collapse to the ground. 

Despite everything, StarClan still wants me here, and they are still guiding me to the right path.

Crowpaw’s eyes flickered upwards. It was still a cloudy, rainy day, obscuring any hint of clear sky, but despite that, Crowpaw felt his heart ease as a sense of closeness with his warrior ancestors settled over him.

So you have been watching over me this whole time, Deadfoot… I’m sorry I’ve messed things up so badly. But, I’ll still try to make you proud. I promise, I’m going to make it right. 

I’ll find them.

Chapter Text

“You sure ate the rest of that fish mighty fast after hatin’ that first bite so much,” Purdy said, rumbling a purr of amusement.

Crowpaw’s ears flattened in embarrassment. 

“It just took me a moment to get used to it,” he muttered.

He didn’t want to have to explain the whole thing about the saltwater signs to Purdy. He still wasn’t sure if the elder even properly understood what StarClan was .

Purdy just shot him another amused glance, but Crowpaw dislodged it with a brisk shake of his pelt.

“Anyway, we should really catch that other fish for the others and then get going,” Crowpaw urged.

Now that he’d decided to return to the others, his paws itched to go after them as soon as possible. What if they were injured and needed help immediately? Or what if they gave up on him and had already left? Although, Crowpaw wasn’t sure if he could blame them if that was the case.

“Patience, son,” Purdy purred, his eyes becoming half-lidded as if he was starting to doze off. “Fishin’ is all about patience…”

Crowpaw was just starting to get annoyed at the elder, but then, despite his sleepy expression, Purdy’s paw flashed out as quickly as a lightning strike, pulling another fish from the pond. Impressed, Crowpaw watched as Purdy made quick work of killing it. A second one already lay at Crowpaw’s feet— a peace offering for his companions.

That is, as long as we can find them. Or if they’re all still alive…

Crowpaw shook his ears, pushing away the dark thought. 

They’ll be okay. He told himself firmly.

“Are two fish enough for your friends?” Purdy asked. “These fish bein’ so big, it might be challengin’ for just the two of us to carry more.”

Crowpaw glanced down at the golden fish. 

“They’ll make do,” he said. “We can always find more food later. Let’s get going.”

Crowpaw bent his head, gripping his fish tightly in his mouth, and Purdy did the same to the other. His mouth too full to speak, Crowpaw gestured for Purdy to lead the way, and then he followed the elder back into the maze of twoleg dens and thunderpaths.

The drizzle was finally dying off and as the morning wore on, more and more twolegs emerged from their dens. Crowpaw’s pelt prickled as he realized that Purdy was boldly leading him down the edges of thunderpaths, completely out in the open, despite the growing numbers of twolegs and monsters. Purdy seemed totally unbothered by both the twolegs and the monsters, but the feeling of the multitudes of twolegs’ curious gazes on Crowpaw made him want to crawl out of his skin.

“Purdy,” he hissed, dropping the fish for a moment to speak. “Can we walk somewhere a bit more discreet? Maybe under the hedges? I don’t like all the twolegs— I mean, upwalkers — watching us.”

Purdy blinked in surprise, as if he’d never even considered that, but he nodded in agreement.

“Alright, if it makes ya more comfortable,” he mumbled around the fish.

Crowpaw snatched his fish back up as he followed Purdy into a nearby hedge, immediately letting out a sigh of relief as they slipped out of sight.

As they continued to walk, somehow, despite the huge fish in his mouth, Purdy started to babble on about this impossibly large rat he caught sometime in his younger seasons. After a while, Crowpaw did his best to tune the elder out, focusing instead on the dens or alleys that they passed, looking for any trace of something familiar, but he didn’t recognize any of them. 

As Purdy’s story about the rat grew more and more fantastical, and the day trickled by, some doubt about Purdy’s navigational skills also began to creep into Crowpaw’s mind. Crowpaw shot a sharp glance over at Purdy as he realized that, besides being a decent fisher and listener when Crowpaw needed it, he actually knew very little about this old tom. Maybe he had been a bit foolish to blindly trust him to guide him through the twoleg-place.

Does this elder really know where he’s going, or is his navigation as rambling as his stories? I don’t remember it taking this long when I ran away from Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt yesterday.

But, then, over the smell of the fish in his mouth, dog scents rushed into Crowpaw’s nose, sending his fur bristling.

Purdy noticed his lifted hackles and paused his story to address Crowpaw.

“Don’t ya worry none,” Purdy said. “The dogs will be back with their upwalkers by now. I promise.”

Crowpaw nodded tightly, a bit embarrassed by his obvious fear when Purdy seemed so casual about it.

Well Purdy didn’t just get attacked by those same two dogs only yesterday!

“Anyway though, I’ll finish tellin’ you about that rat later. Now that we’re close, we best start sniffin’ around for your friends, huh?” Purdy continued. “Imma guess they smell like you? All wild-like, like forests and fields and streams?”

Crowpaw blinked, a bit of surprise dawning on him as he realized that Purdy was probably right. It had been quite a while now since Crowpaw had been able to discern a distinctive Clan-scent from his companions— Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw didn’t have that musty scent of leaf mold that Crowpaw associated so much with ThunderClan. Stormfur and Feathertail’s scents no longer carried a fishy tinge. Even Tawnypelt had lost that strong, powerful scent that ShadowClan was so well-known for.

Have we really spent so long together that our scents have all blended into one?

Crowpaw finally nodded again to Purdy, before dropping his fish to speak.

“Yes. And, they’re also like me in that they don’t like twolegs, or er— upwalkers,” he explained. “So they’ll most likely have stuck to places where twolegs don’t go often. Under hedges, in alleyways… I think we’ll have the best luck trying to pick up a trail in those sorts of places.”

The elder gave a confident nod in response. “Alright. Let’s get to lookin’.” 

Crowpaw picked up his fish again, and the two of them started sniffing for scents as they continued on. Smelling anything over the scent of the fish or the dogs proved to be a challenge, but not a completely impossible one. 

It was nearing midday and Purdy was a few fox-lengths away from Crowpaw, investigating deep in an alley, when he lifted his patchy-furred tail in excitement after sniffing around a corner. Crowpaw hurried over to him.

“I reckon that’s some of your friends,” Purdy purred after dropping his fish.

Crowpaw unceremoniously dropped his piece of freshkill as well, his jaws parting to eagerly drink in the air. His pelt prickled in relief as two familiar scents rushed into his mouth.

“That’s Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw!” he gasped.

He sniffed the air again. Their scent had lingered here for a while and seemed pretty fresh. Maybe they had napped here, and only left recently to look around for the others?

“They seem close,” Crowpaw muttered. “Come on.”

Crowpaw grabbed his fish and ran, leaving Purdy to follow with a meow of surprise. Crowpaw kept on the trail down the twists and turns of the alley, his pelt bristling, partly in excitement and partly in worry as their scents grew stronger. Finally, from up ahead, he caught the glimpse of a bushy red tail disappearing around the corner of a stone wall. Crowpaw slowed and dropped the fish again.

“Squirrelpaw! Tawnypelt!” he yowled, his stomach twisting with nerves.

Almost immediately, Squirrelpaw’s head poked back around the corner, her green eyes stretching wide as she caught sight of Crowpaw and Purdy who now, huffing and puffing, had finally caught back up to him.

“Crowpaw?!” she meowed incredulously, sounding half relieved and half accusative. “You’re back?”

Shame for his actions yesterday swept over Crowpaw again, making his belly squirm even more. But he held himself still as Tawnypelt emerged from around the corner behind Squirrelpaw, and the two she-cats came running up to him.

“You stupid, stupid furball!” Squirrelpaw hissed when she reached him, although there wasn’t much anger in her tone— in fact, surprisingly, she sounded almost grateful to see him. “Do you know how long we spent looking for you last night?! We’d started to think that maybe the dogs had come back and gotten you! What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Crowpaw bowed his head.

“...I’m sorry,” he muttered in a low voice.

That was enough to stun Squirrelpaw into silence, her jaw falling open, but no sound came out.

“What’s going on, Crowpaw? Who is this?” Tawnypelt broke in, sending a wary, narrowed-eyed glance at Purdy.

“His name is Purdy,” Crowpaw explained. “He lives around here and offered to help me find you guys.”

“Pleasure to meet ya,” Purdy purred, glancing at Tawnypelt first. “Hm, very straight-forward… so you must be Tawnypelt, right?”

Tawnypelt blinked in surprise, but before she could even respond, Purdy turned his attention to Squirrelpaw.

“And you… small but with a strength and voice disproportionate to your size… can be no one but Squirrelpaw,” Purdy purred.

Crowpaw’s ears warmed with an embarrassed heat as Squirrelpaw’s and Tawnypelt’s shocked gazes moved from Purdy to back Crowpaw.

“You told him about us?!” Squirrelpaw asked, staring at Crowpaw like he’d grown a second head.

Crowpaw dipped his chin again to avoid their eyes, his ears pinning back against his head.

“Look… What happened yesterday…” he muttered, ignoring Squirrelpaw’s question. “I was out of line. For all of it. You both were right.”

From the corner of his eyes, Crowpaw could still see Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt exchange a surprised look at his admittance. Crowpaw shuffled his paws.

“So… uh… here.” He shoved the fish he’d been carrying all day towards them. 

Squirrelpaw continued to stare at Crowpaw in shock while Tawnypelt lowered her head to give the fish’s side a sniff.

“An apology fish?” Tawnypelt asked with a hint of dry amusement in her voice as she glanced up at him and arched a brow.

“Crowpaw doesn’t admit that he’s wrong, and bring ‘I’m sorry’ gifts! Who are you, and what have you done with the real Crowpaw?” Squirrelpaw demanded, a purr building under her words.

Despite the humor in their voices, Crowpaw’s shame only intensified, his shoulders hunching.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I was being a rabbit-brain, and I put us all in danger with the dogs. I understand if you guys don’t want me to stick around because of that. But, I’d still like to help you find the others, in case they’re injured and need me to be there to help. After that, though, I can leave you all alone for good.”

“You made a dumb mistake, but you’re still a part of this quest, Crowpaw,” Tawnypelt said, her tone turning serious once more and pulling Crowpaw’s gaze back up to hers. “Just as much as me or Squirrelpaw. Four cats may have gotten the prophecy, but six cats started this journey together, and six cats are going to finish it.”

Relief prickled through Crowpaw at Tawnypelt’s easy forgiveness. But, Squirrelpaw shifted antsily, moving her weight from paw to paw and drawing Crowpaw’s attention. Crowpaw glanced at her, wondering if she disagreed with Tawnypelt. But, to his surprise, rather than looking angry, Squirrelpaw instead seemed contrite, her ears flat against her head.

“I’m sorry too, Crowpaw,” Squirrelpaw muttered. “What I said about never forgiving you if they died… That was cruel. I know that you never meant for anyone to get hurt.”

Crowpaw’s ears pricked in surprise to hear such a sincere-sounding apology coming out of Squirrelpaw’s stubborn, defiant mouth.

Crowpaw’s tail flicked in thought.

But, I guess she could say the same of me…

Crowpaw lowered his gaze from Squirrelpaw to the ground as shame began to burn his pelt again.

“I am to blame, though,” Crowpaw whispered in a voice barely above a breath in volume. “If anything happened to them, I’m not sure I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group for a moment.

“Well you can comfort yourself in knowing that I’m at least happy you came back. That way at least I don’t have to feel guilty forever about driving you away,” Squirrelpaw joked in a weak effort to lighten the mood.

Crowpaw’s ears just twitched, but he appreciated the attempt.

“Besides,” Tawnypelt said, in a much more assertive tone. “My brother, Feathertail, and Stormfur are all very strong warriors. They’ll be able to survive a run-in with one measly mutt. So there’s no need to worry.”

“Have you guys picked up any trace of them yet?” Crowpaw asked, his gaze flickering over them.

Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt both shook their heads.

“Well maybe I can help,” Purdy chimed in. “I do know this area well. I could even help y'all get out of the town and closer to the sundrown-place. I know the way.”

Crowpaw’s ears perked up at the offer.

That’s generous of Purdy, but that means he could be stuck escorting us through the twoleg-place for days, when I’ve already taken up a lot of his time. And, as soon as the clouds part, we should be able to find our way out by ourselves. 

Also, a bit selfishly, Crowpaw wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend several more days with Purdy. Even though Crowpaw had chosen to go back to them, he knew his traveling companions would still get on his nerves sometimes, and he was sure that Purdy would eventually start to do the same. After all, although Purdy had proved himself to be a good listener, he also clearly loved to talk too, if the story about the rat was any indication.

Besides, Purdy had gotten him here, yes, but his route must have been at least a bit meandering since it had taken them longer than Crowpaw remembered yesterday. Purdy was also simply old and set a slow pace... It was possible that it could be faster if they just stuck to their plan of following the sunset.

“You don’t have to do that,” Crowpaw said, turning to Purdy. “I appreciate all your help, but I don't want to impose more than I already have. Thank you, though, for everything.”

Purdy’s whiskers seemed to droop slightly.

“It really ain’t no trouble for me,” he said. “I don’t have nothin’ to do, like I said. But, if ya want me to get goin’... that’s fine. Good luck with everythin’, Crowpaw.”

Purdy started to turn away, and Crowpaw felt a slight pang of reluctance. Despite Crowpaw’s reservations about Purdy joining them for longer, the elder did seem genuinely eager to help. But, surely he had other things to do than run around the twoleg-place with Crowpaw to find the others, right?

Although… maybe not. He did say that he hadn’t used a name in moons… Is Purdy just lonely and looking for company?

Crowpaw exchanged a glance with Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw. They both seemed to have also picked up on Purdy’s despondence, judging by their contemplative expressions. Crowpaw’s gaze met Squirrelpaw’s, and she gave him a small nod of acquiescence, while Tawnypelt twitched her ears in agreement when Crowpaw turned his gaze to her. Crowpaw sighed softly to himself.

“Purdy wait,” Crowpaw called to the old tom’s back. “...If you really want to come, you can. At least until we find the others. And then if everyone agrees, you can help us get out of the twoleg-place.”

Purdy turned around immediately, his tail lifting in pleasure.

“Wonderful!” he purred, trotting back over to them. “Like I was sayin’, I’m always happy to help.” He nodded down at the fish nearest to Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw. “You two should eat first though, before we get goin’. Can’t have searchin’ on an empty stomach.”

“I am starving,” Squirrelpaw declared, crouching down in preparation to tuck into the food.

She and Tawnypelt both took a first bite, chewing thoughtfully. Tawnypelt went right back down for another, but Squirrelpaw shot a glance at Crowpaw.

“Not bad, but next time I’d prefer an apology vole,” she said haughtily.

Crowpaw sent her a sharp look, annoyance prickling through him, but when he saw her cheeky expression, the irritation mostly ebbed away.

“Just be grateful for the food, mouse-brain,” he muttered.

“‘Mouse-brain?’” Squirrelpaw echoed with a mrrow of surprise. “You’re using ThunderClan insults now? Watch out, Crowpaw, you’ve been spending too much time with us.”

“Tell me about it,” Crowpaw drawled wryly, taking a seat to wait for them to finish.

Purdy settled down as well.

“Ya know, on the way over, I was tellin’ Crowpaw here an interesting tale about this huge rat I caught one time when I was young,” Purdy began. “I didn’t get to finish it, but since y'all are here now, I was thinkin’ I should just start from the beginning so everyone can get the full story.”

Crowpaw blinked and glanced over Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt. He doubted the two of them were prepared for the unrelenting barrage of words they were about the experience. 

Purdy puffed out his chest, taking a deep breath, and then he began.

“So let me tell ya, back when I was young, rats were much bigger than the puny things you see around today. They were big. Although, not just big, they were massive. Huge. Some of ‘em could grow to the size of a cat, I swear it. I dunno what happened to ‘em now, maybe something the upwalkers did to ‘em? The upwalkers can do lots of strange things, ya know? Like control the monsters and dig up trees and all sorts of weird things like that. Although maybe it’s good for us if they made the rats small, since even a little rat can be mighty dangerous sometimes. I’ve even heard about a rat that killed a dog! Can ya believe that?! A dog! Sounds impossible, don’t it? But wait a second, I’m getting off track. Where was I… oh yeah! So back when I was young, there was this huge rat…”

Crowpaw, Squirrelpaw, Tawnypelt, and Purdy with the one remaining fish, set off to track down the others. Even though Purdy was again carrying the fish, like earlier he still seemed to possess some kind of near mythical ability to speak despite his mouth being so full. He was still telling the story about the rat, having only just gotten to him tracking it down, while they followed him. He guided them down the thunderpaths as they searched for any hint of Brambleclaw, Stormfur and Feathertail.

“Stars, please make him stop,” Crowpaw growled between his clenched fangs to Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt.

He knew that Purdy had really helped him out earlier, but this was quickly becoming too much. Crowpaw was on the verge of calling the debt he felt for the elder void and abandoning him, if his prattling went on much longer.

“I never knew that a cat could exist who talked more than you, Squirrelpaw,” Tawnypelt said, shooting Squirrelpaw a mischievous glance.

Squirrelpaw’s ears flattened in offense.

“I’m not nearly that bad,” she protested.

“What about that time that you spent nearly a whole morning telling us about the time you and Leafpaw snuck out of camp when you were kits?” Tawnypelt quipped.

“Oh but now that story was interesting,” Squirrelpaw said with a cheeky purr. 

Crowpaw opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a faint noise drifted into his ears. His ears pricked and swiveled towards it.

“Wait a moment… Shh. Purdy! Quiet,” Crowpaw hissed. 

The elder finally fell silent, shooting Crowpaw a questioning look. Crowpaw ignored him, focusing on straining his ears for any more sound.

“Did you guys hear that?” he whispered.

Everyone paused, concentrating on listening. The noise came again, clearer this time. It was a yowl, faint from coming some distance away, but unmistakingly familiar.

“Feathertail!” Squirrelpaw gasped, confirming Crowpaw’s fear as her eyes stretched wide.

“She’s in trouble!” Tawnypelt growled urgently.

“Come on!” Crowpaw said.

Abadanding Purdy’s slow, meandering path around gardens and under hedges, Crowpaw threw himself forward, barrelling straight towards Feathertail’s voice. Thankfully, Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt seemed to have the same idea since they were right on his tail, while Purdy trailed further behind. They leapt over small stone walls, ducked under bushes and sprinted through yards.

“Let me go!” Feathertail’s voice cried again, much clearer and louder this time.

Crowpaw’s stomach lurched in worry. Had the dogs caught her?

At least she’s alive.

Crowpaw sprung up onto the top of a wooden fence, his lips curled back and his claws bared as he readied himself to leap into battle. But, instead, he froze as he was greeted by the odd sight in the garden below him. 

A twoleg was hunched over, peering into a strange box formed of woven thin, silver tendrils— a material not unlike the fence that had trapped Squirrelpaw back in the start of the journey. But this time, it was Feathertail who was trapped. She crouched inside the box, staring up at the twoleg with wide, terrified eyes. Crowpaw couldn’t tear his gaze off of her even when Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw leapt up onto the fence next to them.

“Guys!” 

That finally got Crowpaw’s attention. His head jerked to the side, a powerful relief running through him as he saw Brambleclaw and Stormfur, alive and not severely injured, running across the top of the fence towards them.

“Feathertail got trapped in that box!” Stormfur gasped, wasting no time on greetings.

“What happened?” Tawnypelt demanded.

“We smelled some kind of meat coming from it. Feathertail went down to investigate it, but as soon as she stepped inside, a flap snapped shut behind her! The twoleg came out of its den a moment later,” Brambleclaw explained, his tone urgent but not as panicked as Stormfur’s.

Crowpaw grumbled a low growl, glaring at the twoleg as fury burned inside him.

“I’ll shred it,” he snarled, readying himself to leap down.

“That’s not gonna help you none,” Purdy’s rasping voice cut in as he finally caught up.

Abandoning the fish at the bottom of the fence for now, he sprung up next to Crowpaw and glanced down at the garden.

“I’ve seen this type of contraption before,” Purdy said. “Hurtin’ the upwalker isn’t gonna make him open the box. It’ll just make him mad and could make things worse for your friend.”

Crowpaw growled furiously, his claws flexing into the wood.

Brambleclaw blinked at Purdy in confusion.

“Uh, and you are?” he asked.

“We’ll deal with introductions later,” Tawnypelt said curtly, giving a dismissive wave of her tail. “We need to focus on helping Feathertail now.”

Feathertail had noticed that the others had appeared, and she was now staring over at them with pleading eyes. The twoleg had luckily not noticed the other cats though, being seemingly too busy evaluating Feathertail. But, he now seemed to have made some kind of decision about her. He reached down with one of his large paws, grabbing the box, and lifting it and Feathertail into the air. Feathertail mewed in terror, her paws scrabbling uselessly on the silver webbing as she tried to claw her way free.

“What’s it doing with her?!” Stormfur cried, horror flooding his expression. “Is it going to take her away?!”

“That does it!” Crowpaw snarled. “We have no other choice but to attack!”

Again, his muscles corded to spring, but Squirrelpaw stopped him by swiping her tail against his side.

“Wait!” she meowed, determination glittering in her green gaze. “Let me try something first! I think I can distract the twoleg so you guys have a chance to get Feathertail out of the box!”

Despite Brambleclaw’s mew of warning, Squirrelpaw sprung down into the garden and fearlessly sauntered toward the twoleg. As she approached him, she lifted her tail high as if greeting him, and let out a loud meow.

“Hello twoleg!” Squirrelpaw said. “Yes, that’s right, look at me! I’m a very interesting cat! Much more interesting than silly old Feathertail!”

Dumbfounded, Crowpaw’s jaw fell open as he watched, half in horror and half in awe at Squirrelpaw’s bravery, as she walked right up to the twoleg and started weaving around his legs, still meowing nonsense to it.

Crowpaw and his companions were still too stunned by Squirrelpaw to move at first, so Purdy caught on to her plan before they did. He leapt down into the garden after her and trotted up to the twoleg, also starting to meow and rub his sides against the twoleg’s legs. 

The twoleg stared down at the two cats with interest. Making a soft noise in his throat, the twoleg crouched down, placing the box with Feathertail back on the ground as he reached a hairless paw towards Purdy instead. Purdy purred loudly as the twoleg ran his paw over his head then down his back.

“Now’s our chance! Let’s get to Feathertail!” Tawnypelt hissed, snapping Crowpaw’s attention away from the scene.

Tawnypelt sprung into the garden, Crowpaw, Brambleclaw, and Stormfur following, and they slunk towards Feathertail.

“That’s right! Follow us over here, mouse-brain!” Squirrelpaw was saying now.

She and Purdy were effectively drawing the twoleg away from Feathertail and the box, keeping his attention fixed on them instead and giving the others a chance to hurry to Feathertail.

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you guys!” Feathertail whispered when they reached her.

Her shining blue gaze met Crowpaw’s, but Crowpaw found himself unable to hold it. His stomach twisting in guilt, he looked away from her.

“Alright, how did you get trapped?” Tawnypelt asked, keeping her voice low so as to not draw the twoleg’s attention.

Feathertail touched her nose to a flat silver sheet that formed one of the sides to the box.

“When I stepped inside, this closed behind me!” she whispered. “I’ve tried pushing and pulling on it, but it won’t budge!”

“Hm it’s because this section is blocking it,” Tawnypelt murmured, nodding towards a different part of the box that was in front of the flap— completely out of reach for Feathertail, but not for them. “Stormfur, Brambleclaw, put those muscles to good use and try pushing on this.”  

The two obeyed, but despite the large toms’ straining, the section Tawnypelt had pointed out still didn’t move, and neither did the flap blocking Feathertail. As the three fiddled with the box, Crowpaw shot a worried glance over his shoulder, making sure the twoleg was still distracted. It was, but Crowpaw wasn’t sure how long Squirrelpaw and Purdy would be able to hold its attention.

“Now that part is caught on something,” Tawnypelt muttered, seemingly half-talking to herself as her sharp green eyes scanned the box. “Ah-ha!”

Tawnypelt eagerly reached up to the top of the box with a forepaw. A small silver nub was there, and Crowpaw blinked, seeing that it was blocking the part Brambleclaw and Stormfur were pushing on.

“Keep pushing,” Tawnypelt ordered them before she started to pry at the nub with her claws.

Crowpaw’s breath caught in his throat as she managed to slowly pull the small piece of silver material upwards. She’d nearly gotten it high enough to free Brambleclaw’s and Stormfur’s sections when her claws slipped. The small piece of metal snapped back into place, releasing a very loud twang for its size as it collided back with the top of the box.

They all froze, and from out of the corner of his eye, Crowpaw saw the twoleg straighten suddenly at the sound.

No, no, no! If the twoleg sees us, Feathertail may be trapped for good!

“Don’t look over there! Keep looking at us, you stupid twoleg!” Squirrelpaw meowed in a slightly panicked voice as she seemed to come to the same conclusion as Crowpaw. “Guys, hurry!”

Despite Squirrelpaw’s and Purdy’s best efforts, the twoleg was starting to turn. Crowpaw clenched his jaw, and before he allowed himself to think about it, he was haring towards the twoleg. Although his belly clenched in terror as he drew so close to the towering creature, Crowpaw’s paws didn’t slow until he reached the twoleg’s side, coming to a skidding stop. The twoleg jolted in surprise as he caught sight of him, yet another cat. 

Crowpaw froze, horror running through his pelt as he became trapped beneath the gaze of the twoleg, but his gambit had worked. The twoleg was now focused on him rather than turning to look back at Feathertail and the others. Now Crowpaw could only hope that the time he’d gained for them would be enough.

“Yeah… yeah. It was me. I made that weird noise,” Crowpaw muttered, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to copy Squirrelpaw and Purdy by meowing to the twoleg.

The twoleg made some kind of incomprehensible sound back at him and then loomed over, one of his huge paws reaching for him. His tail bushing out in terror, Crowpaw barely managed to squash down the urge to bolt. Instead, he just shrunk back towards the relative safety of Squirrelpaw’s and Purdy’s sides. 

“He wants to pet you,” Purdy said from behind him in a loud whisper.

“I am not letting that thing touch me,” Crowpaw hissed, not risking taking his eyes off the twoleg.

The twoleg was still hunched over, reaching his paws out towards him. His hazel eyes peered down at Crowpaw from his weird, hairless, flat face.

“Do you want Feathertail freed or not?” Squirrelpaw hissed back. “Purr! Pretend like you like it!”

Crowpaw blinked, realizing Squirrelpaw was right. He still couldn’t find it in himself to force a purr, but he did manage to hold himself still as the twoleg stretched closer. One of his paws made contact with his back, and Crowpaw tensed but didn’t move as he lightly ran his huge paw down his spine. Although every hair on Crowpaw’s pelt screamed at the uncomfortable contact, it wasn’t actually painful. In fact, despite the twoleg’s massive size, his touch was surprisingly gentle. 

But, then his second paw stretched out towards him as well. Crowpaw gulped as the two huge paws encircled his midsection, and then he was being lifted off of the ground. Crowpaw ground his eyes shut for a moment, trying desperately to control himself. It was all he could do to not start swiping his claws across the twoleg’s skin.

I have to do this for Feathertail.

Crowpaw repeated the thought in his head again and again. He caused this whole mess with the dogs, which got her here, trapped in the box. He had to get her back out of it. 

The twoleg held Crowpaw in his arms, pressing him closely to his chest. He cooed, his chest giving a low vibration almost like a purr as he cradled him.

“Yes! We’ve got her! Feathertail’s out!” Brambleclaw’s loud yowl suddenly tore through the yard.

The twoleg jerked in shock, starting to turn towards Brambleclaw’s cry. But, Crowpaw moved faster. He clamped his fangs down onto one of the twoleg’s fleshy paws. With a pained yowl of surprise and anger, the twoleg’s grip loosened, and in a flash, Crowpaw had leapt from his arms.

His eyes scanned around frantically, and he spotted the others all already waiting for him on the top of the fence. His heart leapt as he saw Feathertail perched there, totally free, her tail held high and her eyes shining as she looked down at him. Although his injured leg twinged in pain, Crowpaw didn’t hesitate to launch himself upwards, landing on the fence next to them.

“See ya never, you dumb twoleg!” Squirrelpaw crowed from over her shoulder.

An instant later, they were all leaping down into the next garden. Purdy snatched the fish back up, and then they were dashing away, putting a good few dens between them and the twoleg, just in case he decided to come after them. Brambleclaw eventually led them to a large purple-flowering hydrangea bush, ducking under it to hide and they all followed him in.

They were all panting, but everyone’s eyes shone in victory as they gazed at each other.

“Okay, is it just me, or were we totally awesome there?!” Squirrelpaw said, rocking up and down on her toes as if she still had energy despite their crazed dash away from the twoleg.

“You all were so amazing,” Feathertail purred in agreement, giving Squirrelpaw’s shoulder an affectionate bunt with her head. “Seriously, thank you all, so much.”

“Tawnypelt should get the real praise,” Stormfur said, giving the ShadowClan warrior a grateful blink. “I can’t believe how quickly she figured out how to open that box! Thank you. Feathertail might have been trapped for good if you hadn’t shown up.”

Tawnypelt brushed away his compliment with a twitch of her ears.

“But, I couldn’t have opened the box without you and Brambleclaw helping with your strength,” she pointed out. She flicked her tail against Stormfur’s side and then her brother’s, her eyes twinkling teasingly. “I knew we brought you two brutes along for a reason.”

Brambleclaw ignored his sister’s teasing, instead blinking over at Squirrelpaw.

“For a moment, I thought you had lost your mind when you walked right up to that twoleg,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “But, it turned out to be a really clever diversion. Well done.”

“If you thought I was good, you should have seen him.” Squirrelpaw shot Crowpaw a mischievous glance. “He let the twoleg pick him up! Then he bit him right on the paw!”

Crowpaw ducked his head to rasp his tongue through his chest fur in embarrassment when everyone’s attention shifted to him.

“I’ll be washing that twoleg’s scent off of me for a moon,” he muttered.

Purrs of amusement rang out from the group, and then everyone’s attention seemed to finally shift to the cat who hadn’t yet spoken— Purdy, who just seemed to be enjoying the high spirits of the group, purring along happily.

Feathertail dipped her head to him in a respectful gesture.

“And, thank you too for your help,” she meowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve yet caught your name.”

“Purdy,” Purdy said cheerfully. “And, no need for the thanks, miss. I wouldn’t never let any cat be taken by upwalkers, when they didn’t want to go with ‘em.”

“Well, I appreciate it anyway,” Feathertail meowed politely.

As quiet fell over the group, Purdy shot Crowpaw a meaningful look, nodding down at the last fish that they had dragged what seemed like all over the entire twoleg-place. Crowpaw’s throat suddenly felt dry, but he pulled the fish over to him anyway. He braced himself. It’d been hard enough to just apologize to Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt by themselves, but it felt about a thousand more times difficult now that everyone was here watching.

Taking a deep breath, Crowpaw shoved the fish towards Feathertail, Stormfur, and Brambleclaw.

“I brought this for you guys,” he muttered awkwardly, staring down at the fish instead of meeting their eyes. “Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt already had one. And, I wanted to say that I’m sorry about the dogs. I was really reckless, and I’m… yeah… I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m glad no one seems badly hurt.”

A beat of silence hung over them.

“Thank you for the apology, Crowpaw,” Stormfur said, speaking up first.

“Yeah…” Brambleclaw broke in. “I appreciate it.”

Crowpaw forced his gaze back up, his eyes flickering over Stormfur and Brambleclaw before resting on Feathertail.

“We’re glad you’re all okay too,” she purred when they made eye-contact.

Despite Feathertail’s warm look, Crowpaw’s belly twisted in guilt, and he dropped her gaze.

I could’ve gotten her— them all— so hurt. Or even killed. But, somehow she’s still being nice to me, even though I don’t deserve it…

Although he didn’t look at her, Crowpaw could still feel the heat of Feathertail’s gaze on him.

“Feathertail, you and Stormfur should share the fish,” Brambleclaw meowed, drawing Crowpaw’s attention and gaze back over to him.

From the corner of his eyes, Crowpaw thought he could see Feathertail still staring at him, her brow furrowed. But, when Crowpaw risked glancing at her directly again, she had already turned her gaze onto Brambleclaw.

“But what will you eat?” Stormfur protested, frowning slightly. “The three of us haven’t eaten in a day, so you’re just as starving as either of us. There is enough for us to share.”

Brambleclaw shook his head. “Not enough for a full meal. Better for you and Feathertail to at least fill your bellies. We can always find something else for me later.”

“I should have eaten some of that meat in the box so you could eat this instead,” Feathertail said, her ears flattening. “As soon as the box closed behind me, I totally forgot about it. I’m such a minnow-brain.”

“It’s alright,” Brambleclaw insisted, rumbling a brief purr. “Maybe the meat was bad anyway, since the box turned out to be a trap. Besides, I couldn’t deprive the only two RiverClan cats here of the first fish they’ve had in more than a moon!”

“I’ll find you something to eat today, Brambleclaw,” Tawnypelt promised.

Brambleclaw dipped his head to her gratefully.

“Alright…” Stormfur muttered, finally conceding.

He and Feathertail tucked into the fish, devouring it in swift bites. As they finished eating, Crowpaw lightly cleared his throat.

“There’s something else,” he murmured. “This morning, when I went to look for you guys, I got my saltwater sign.”

Everyone’s attention suddenly snapped back to him, and purrs of relief echoed throughout the group.

“That’s wonderful!” Feathertail mewed as Tawnypelt muttered, “Oh thank StarClan,” under her breath.

“You should’ve said so sooner!” Squirrelpaw added, giving Crowpaw’s side a sharp flick with her tail.

“Wait a second. You got your saltwater what-now?” Purdy interrupted, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“It’s a sign from StarClan,” Crowpaw explained, glancing at him. “It means that despite everything, we’re still on the right path to the sundrown-place.”

Or that returning to the others was the right path. Crowpaw privately added to himself.

Crowpaw turned to gaze over at the others.

“But, speaking of, Purdy says he knows the twoleg-place well. He helped us find you guys, and he said he could get us out of the twoleg-place and closer to the sundrown-place.”

Purdy nodded.

“I’m happy to help,” he meowed.

Stormfur’s eyes stretched wide in surprise, although relief also glittered in his gaze. “Really?”

“That’s perfect!” Feathertail added, her tail curling up in delight.

“...I’d like not to be lost,” Tawnypelt admitted in a low voice.

“Even if Purdy talks our ears off the whole walk,” Squirrelpaw hissed to her and Crowpaw under her breath.

Everybody then seemed to glance towards Brambleclaw, waiting to hear his opinion. The large tabby warrior blinked in surprise for a moment as he realized that everyone had turned to him, but he swiftly composed himself and dipped his head to Purdy.

“Thank you so much for your kindness,” he said. “We’d love the help.”

Purdy puffed out his chest.

“Aw, it ain’t nothin’,” he said, getting to his paws. “Well there’s no time like the present, and seein’ as you’ve already finished the fish… are y'all ready to get goin’?”

Chapter Text

While Mothwing’s paws were busy pulling leaves from the herb stores, her mind was far from her body.

Even though a few days had passed since Hawkfrost told her how he’d lied about WindClan stealing the fish, Mothwing’s unease with the situation still lingered like a foul taste she couldn’t get off her tongue.

No matter Hawkfrost’s arguments in defense of his actions, it didn’t sit right with her, and Leopardstar’s role in it was disconcerting too. Her leader’s actions had an especially disturbing pallor when viewed through Mothwing’s newfound knowledge about Leopardstar’s involvement in TigerClan. Could she be returning to her old, cruel ways?

But what can I do about it? Tell Mistyfoot? Hawkfrost swore me to secrecy, and I can’t break my promise to him. Even if I asked Mistyfoot not to tell anyone that I was the one who told her, Hawkfrost would see right through that. And besides, I don’t want Hawkfrost to get in trouble…

But, if Mothwing did nothing, she would just be forced to watch as WindClan suffered from lack of water. There’d already been another scrap at the border between a WindClan patrol and a RiverClan one over it. 

Well… could WindClan not really need the water? Could Hawkfrost be right, and they’ve just been lying about it to steal from us?

If that were all true, then Mothwing didn’t really have to feel bad about this. Sure, she’d still be annoyed that Hawkfrost lied to the Clan, but in that case, the right thing would be to kick WindClan out of their territory. No harm, no foul.

But we don’t know if WindClan really did anything wrong.

Mothwing shook her ears, frustration prickling at her. Why couldn’t this just have a simple, obvious answer?

She wished that StarClan would send her a sign— help her figure it out! But, her trip to Moonstone the night before only revealed the same disturbing, fragmented dream as last time. The dream hadn’t contained any answers to RiverClan’s problem with WindClan, or Mothwing’s problem with Hawkfrost. If anything, it just warned of more problems, if the shrieks and glimpses of blood and fleeing cats were anything to go by.

Mothwing rumbled a low growl of frustration to herself.

Why can’t you help me, StarClan?!

Finally grabbing the herbs she needed— a couple juniper berries and a small bundle of mallow leaves— Mothwing turned and padded to the entrance of the medicine cats’ den where Loudbelly was shifting from paw to paw, waiting on her. She dropped the herb mixture at his feet.

“Here you go,” she said. “This should make you feel better.”

Mothwing had already started to turn away as Loudbelly bent his head to give the herbs a suspicious sniff.

“Wait!” Mudfur’s voice rang out from further back in the den, making Mothwing jerk in surprise and yanking her out of her thoughts.

Mudfur hurried over to her and Loudbelly, his pelt frazzled. He pulled the mallow leaves away from Loudbelly, instead turning to hold them towards Mothwing in an outstretched paw.

“Mothwing, what are these?” he asked.

Mothwing blinked, mystified. “Mallow.”

Mudfur shook his head.

“Look closer,” he prompted.

Mothwing’s brow furrowing, she bent over, and a tangy scent washed over her tongue. Mothwing’s ears flattened down as the fur down her spine spiked in embarrassment.

“...It’s yarrow,” she mumbled under her breath.

Loudbelly released a loud, irritated hiss, but Mudfur continued to gaze at Mothwing with patient amber eyes.

“And, what’s yarrow used for?” he asked.

“It extracts poisons,” Mothwing muttered. “In wounds. Or, it can be eaten and will make a cat vomit in case they ate something poisonous.”

“So it won’t be useful for Loudbelly’s aching stomach right?” Mudfur said. “Since we know he hasn’t eaten anything that’s making him sick.”

Mothwing nodded.

“Put this back and go get the mallow,” Mudfur gently instructed, handing the yarrow leaves back to Mothwing.

Her ears still hot with shame, Mothwing picked up the leaves and turned back to the herb storage. Loudbelly glared at her as she did so.

“I knew those leaves didn’t look right,” he growled. “I’ve gotten this same mix enough times, I could probably pick it out of the stores myself. But, leave it to a rogue to not be able to tell the difference. I bet you can’t even tell a nose from a tail.”

Mothwing stiffened.

After spending over a moon helping Mudfur care for Loudbelly, and his chronic flare-ups, am I still nothing but a useless rogue to him? Even though StarClan’s accepted me at the Moonstone!

“Have some patience, Loudbelly,” Mudfur said in a calm voice. “Mothwing is still learning.”

Loudbelly grumbled to himself under his breath, but he didn’t make another snide comment as Mothwing grabbed the real mallow and dropped it at his paws. He just ate his herbs then turned on his heel, stalking out of the den. Once Loudbelly was out of earshot, Mudfur turned back to Mothwing.

“You’ve gotten Loudbelly mallow before and never messed it up,” he said.

Mothwing ducked her head, staring down at her paws. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I just made a mistake.”

“You’ve been distracted today,” Mudfur responded.

There was a question beneath his words, but Mothwing remained quiet, her tail twitching. She couldn’t tell Mudfur about what happened with Hawkfrost and how it was bothering her, no matter how much she wanted his help with it. She made a promise to her brother.

“...It’s just the dream from the Moonstone,” Mothwing muttered finally. “It’s getting to me. How is it not bothering you? You got that same sort of dream again too, right?”

“I have been thinking about it, but if every medicine cat let their dreams affect them so badly, then we would do nothing but lie in our nests between each Moonstone meeting,” Mudfur chided gently. 

Mothwing shuffled her feet.

“Is that really all that’s troubling you?” Mudfur prompted, seeming to sense her holding back.

Mothwing still didn’t speak, and Mudfur sighed as her silence stretched on.

“Go for a walk,” he ordered. “And, come back with feverfew. Maybe the fresh air will clear your mind.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Mudfur,” Mothwing muttered again.

She couldn’t help but feeling like she’d disappointed him as she padded out of the den and exited camp, swimming from the island. Her mentor had been nothing but patient with her, even defending her like he’d just done with Loudbelly, and in return she mixed up two simple herbs that didn't even look all that alike!

“I’m such a minnow-brain,” she muttered to herself under her breath as she emerged from the river and started walking up the bank.

The least she could do was try to make up to Mudfur by gathering him a sizable amount of feverfew, which grew…

Mothwing’s steps wavered as her mind blanked, and panic gripped her for a beat.

…The river! Feverfew grows near the river!

Heaving a huge sigh of relief that she remembered, Mothwing’s pace quickened as she trotted up the bank, her gaze scanning across the plants she passed. She eventually spotted the tell-tale small white flowers growing not far from the stepping stones, and Mothwing busied herself with plucking the leaves. She knew that Mudfur had told her to take a walk, but if she came back quickly with the herbs he wanted, then maybe he’d see that she was really taking her training seriously.

Mothwing was nearly done forming the herb bundle when the sound of undergrowth rustling from across the river caught her attention. Mothwing’s eyes lifted from her task and a jolt of pleasant surprise ran through her as she recognized Leafpaw’s slim tabby figure sniffing through the green fronds of ferns on the other bank. 

“Leafpaw!” Mothwing called.

Leafpaw’s head snapped up, and even from across the river Mothwing could hear the happy trill that rose in her throat when she noticed her. Mothwing waved her over with her tail, and without hesitation, Leafpaw bounded across the stepping stones. 

But, Mothwing couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping down to the river’s low surface as she did so. She still wasn’t used to seeing the stepping stones so exposed from the water, even though the river’s low level was starting to become a new normal.

Mothwing shook herself out of her worried thoughts as Leafpaw reached her side of the river.

“It’s good to see you,” Mothwing purred to her friend.

Mothwing surprised herself a bit with how much she meant those words. Even though it had only been a day since they’d last spoken during the walk to and from the Moonstone, Mothwing still found herself craving Leafpaw’s company. But, Mothwing supposed that in some ways it made sense— because she and Hawkfrost had been arguing so much, that meant Leafpaw currently held the spot for her closest, least-complicated friendship. Just seeing her seemed to lift some of the burden of stress from Mothwing’s shoulders.

“You too,” Leafpaw responded with an easy purr, lightly bumping her forehead to Mothwing’s shoulder in greeting.

“How’s it going?” Mothwing asked as Leafpaw pulled back.

Leafpaw’s amber eyes lit up.

“Good! Ferncloud just moved to the nursery today. I don’t remember if I told you already, but she’s expecting her second litter of kits. She thinks she might stay in the nursery after this one though and become a permanent queen like Goldenflower, since she just loves raising kits so much. She’s been really healthy too, so thank StarClan there’s no problems there…”

Mothwing patiently listened as Leafpaw continued to mew on about Ferncloud for a bit before switching to other topics that she hadn’t had the chance to tell Mothwing about yesterday. She described her other Clanmates and their minor ailments, and how she’d helped them. Although Mothwing was content to revel in her friend’s successes, she couldn’t help but also feeling a bit of wistfulness for Leafpaw’s life.

Even though Leafpaw’s father used to be a kittypet, as Leafpaw often liked to point out, it was still impossible for Mothwing to not notice how much more connected Leafpaw was to her Clan than Mothwing was to RiverClan. Leafpaw’s Clanmates all seemed to adore her, while Loudbelly had just been hissing at Mothwing for being a foolish rogue, and Mothwing couldn’t even keep her own brother or mentor happy with her. Besides, Leafpaw’s father was now a well-respected leader, while if anyone found out who Mothwing’s father was… Well, things wouldn’t get any easier for her to say the least.

Leafpaw was also just so good at being a medicine cat. It was like she was born for it. She always seemed to know the right treatment, not to mention her easy connection to StarClan, while Mothwing was still struggling to make heads or tails of her confusing dream from a moon ago…

Mothwing sighed softly to herself, admiring the way the sunlight brought out the rich browns in the tabby part of Leafpaw’s pelt and gleamed off the white of her chest and paws. 

I wish I could be Leafpaw, even if only for a day…

Leafpaw paused, her head tilting to the side. 

“I’m sorry,” she meowed. “I’ve been so rude talking your ears off when I haven’t even asked you how you’ve been.”

Mothwing gave her head a small shake in protest.

“I like hearing you talk,” she said.

Leafpaw purred and shot her a shy glance from the corners of her eyes.

“Thanks. But, I wanna hear you talk too,” she said, lightly teasing.

Mothwing heaved in a deep breath, her gaze dropping down on her paws.

“Things have just been hard,” she confessed.

“Oh no. Because of WindClan?” Leafpaw guessed, her tail lightly brushing Mothwing’s side supportively.

“Not just that,” Mothwing said, her ears flattening as she glanced back over at her. “I… I didn’t want to tell you yesterday with all the other medicine cats around. But…”

“...But what?” Leafpaw meowed gently when her voice trailed off, her huge amber eyes peering up at Mothwing.

“I’m sorry,” Mothwing mumbled. “I just… I feel so dumb for complaining, since it feels like all I’ve wanted for so long is to be a medicine cat. But, now that I really am one, it’s just so much more challenging than I thought.”

Leafpaw’s brow furrowed, but Mothwing continued before she could say anything. “I thought I’d just be helping cats— learning herbs and healing my Clanmates. And, I am doing that. But, everyday I’ve also been learning that being a medicine cat actually involves so much more.” Mothwing’s ears warmed in embarrassment. “I guess it was dumb of me to have not thought about the spiritual and moral aspects that come with being a medicine cat too.”

“You’re not dumb,” Leafpaw chided gently, and Mothwing self-consiously rasped her tongue through her chest fur.

“So…” Leafpaw continued after a moment. “What’s bothering you is that you still don’t feel as connected to StarClan as you’d hoped?”

Mothwing blinked, the swirling, violent images of her confusing Moonstone dream rushing into her mind again.

“That’s part of it,” she said, dislodging the vision with a small shake of her head. “But it’s also just that… I don’t know the right thing to do all the time. Things felt simple, back when I was a warrior. You followed the warrior code and that’s that. But, things are so much more complicated as a medicine cat! We have a different code, and when you promise to help out all cats, how do you know what cats take priority? How do you know what’s right?”

Mothwing ducked her head.

“Thinking this way is also isolating,” she murmured. “My Clanmates don’t get it. Even my brother doesn’t. I already wasn’t close to many of my Clanmates because I was born outside of RiverClan, but now it seems worse, not better with some of them. And now I’m arguing with Hawkfrost too…”

Leafpaw leaned over, pressing her side to Mothwing’s.

“I’m sorry you’re going through all that,” she said, her voice low and sympathetic. “It sounds hard. I’ve sometimes felt disconnected from ThunderClan too. It’s weird to be in a Clan, but have different rules and connections than all my other Clanmates— even my family, and Squirrelpaw especially…”

Leafpaw was quiet for a moment, but then she twisted her head so she could look right at Mothwing.

“But, being a medicine cat is also wonderful in so many ways. Although we sacrifice that closeness to our Clans, in return we get this amazing bond with StarClan and with each other.” Leafpaw started to purr, and her golden eyes softened into twin pools of honey. “The other medicine cats are here to support you. We all accept you as you are. And, you’ll always be my friend, Mothwing... no matter what.”

Mothwing blinked, her chest suddenly so much lighter. Although she wasn’t supposed to tell Leafpaw about her Moonstone dreams, and she'd made a promise to Hawkfrost to keep his secret… maybe things would be okay as long as she had a friend like Leafpaw around. She had a way of always making her feel better.

Mothwing opened her mouth to thank her, but the words all suddenly dried up on her tongue. Instead, she found that she could do nothing but stare at her. 

Leafpaw was still gazing up at her in return, the sunlight making her glow softly in a golden halo, and Mothwing’s heart started hammering harder and harder against her ribs.

“You’re- you’re a good friend, Leafpaw,” Mothwing finally managed to say, even though her tongue tripped over the words.

Leafpaw didn’t respond; her gaze just peered deeply into Mothwing’s. 

Mothwing found her head slowly dipping down towards Leafpaw’s as if she was drawn to her by some kind of invisible force, as powerless as a leaf caught in the river’s current. Leafpaw lifted her chin to meet her, and Mothwing’s breath briefly stuttered in her throat as her cheek fur brushed Leafpaw’s— lightly at first, but then Mothwing twisted her neck to bury her face into Leafpaw’s short, soft pelt. Leafpaw’s purr grew louder, and a purr rumbled to life in Mothwing’s throat as well, twining together with hers. 

Mothwing closed her eyes, warm contentment filling her from tail-tip to nose as she inhaled Leafpaw’s gentle, floral scent.

“Leafpaw! There you are!”

Mothwing jerked in surprise, her head lifting from Leafpaw and her gaze flashing towards the voice. A calico ThunderClan warrior had emerged from the trees, and she was gazing across the river towards Leafpaw and Mothwing with a slight frown. Leafpaw however didn’t seem surprised to see the she-cat. When she noticed her, she just drew away from Mothwing slightly, sweeping her tail away from Mothwing’s side to instead neatly wrap it around her paws.

“I was just talking with Mothwing,” Leafpaw explained, calling out to her Clanmate.

Leafpaw glanced over at Mothwing.

“That’s my friend, Sorreltail. Is it alright if she comes over?” she asked.

Mothwing blinked, recalling the name and the warrior from her first Gathering.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” she mumbled without thinking about it, her ears twisting back.

Although Mothwing gave the permission quickly, her pelt also rippled uneasily at the thought of Sorreltail having seen her and Leafpaw in the midst of such a vulnerable moment.

Leafpaw gestured for Sorreltail to join them with a wave of her tail. After a moment of hesitation, Sorreltail obeyed, bounding across the river.

“Mouse-brain!” she hissed affectionately when she reached Leafpaw. “Why’d you run off without me? Did you forget I’m supposed to be your escort?”

Leafpaw rolled her eyes in faux annoyance.

“I didn’t forget, but there haven’t been any predator sightings recently. I can handle gathering herbs by myself,” she said. “Firestar is just being over-protective since Squirrelpaw is gone.”

Sorreltail bunted her head with enough force against Leafpaw’s side to make her sway, and Leafpaw started to purr.

“I know that! But, think about my safety!” Sorreltail said. “Firestar would have my tail if he knew I let you out of my sight!”

Both she and Leafpaw mrrowed loudly in amusement, and Mothwing shifted her weight uncomfortably like she was sitting on a pile of ants. It was clear that the two she-cats were very close, and Mothwing was surprised at the twinge of jealousy she felt at that. 

Mothwing gave her ears a small shake to knock the feeling away, mentally scolding herself for it.

Leafpaw is allowed to have other friends.

Sorreltail finally turned to blink at Mothwing. She dipped her head to her in the typical sign of respect that a warrior would show a medicine cat, but the motion wasn’t overly friendly.

“Hello Mothwing,” Sorreltail said in a neutral mew. “We’ve never properly met, but Leafpaw has told me a lot about you.”

Mothwing’s ears pricked in surprise.

“She has?” she asked, glancing over at Leafpaw from the corner of her eyes.

Was she just imagining it, or were the insides of Leafpaw’s ears flushing a darker pink than normal?

A twinkle appeared in Sorreltail’s eyes, and her demeanor towards Mothwing suddenly seemed much warmer. “Oh yes. From the amount of detail that she used to describe you, I knew I’d be able to pick you out in a crowd even without help.”

“Sorreltail, knock it off,” Leafpaw muttered, avoiding Mothwing’s gaze as she prodded at her friend’s side with a paw.

Sorreltail just purred, but she cut off abruptly when some nearby reeds rattled. Mothwing twisted around just in time to spot Hawkfrost stalking out. Her ears pricked in surprise to see her brother, and then just as quickly, her stomach dropped like a rock when his gaze briefly met hers and Mothwing took in his stony expression.

“I knew I smelled ThunderClan,” Hawkfrost hissed, his lip curling back to flash his long fangs.

Sorreltail took a protective step in front of Leafpaw with a growl, her ginger, black and white shoulder fur bristling.

“What are you doing here?” Hawkfrost snapped at them, scraping his claws across the pebbly ground.

His hostility made Mothwing’s belly clench.

Doesn’t he know that Leafpaw’s a medicine cat?!

“Keep your fur on, Hawkfrost,” Mothwing growled before Sorreltail or Leafpaw could respond, shooting him a fierce glare. “This is Leafpaw, ThunderClan’s medicine cat apprentice, and her friend Sorreltail. I invited them over to say hello and give them some feverfew.”

She nodded down at the plants in explanation. Hawkfrost glanced at them briefly before lifting his gaze to Mothwing. She stubbornly held it even though his eyes glittered with frustration.

“You’re giving away RiverClan herbs?” he growled.

Mothwing tensed at the accusation in his voice.

“Medicine cats trade herbs all the time,” she hissed defensively, her tail sweeping from side to side. “Leafpaw gave me some the other day. I’m just repaying the favor.”

Mothwing pulled out some of the leaves from the pile she’d gathered, her motions unhurried even though the heat of Hawkfrost’s gaze still seared her pelt. She turned to Leafpaw to give the small bundle to her.

“Here you go,” she said. “I’m sorry about my brother being a minnow-brain.”

Hawkfrost growled quietly from behind her. Mothwing ignored him, and Leafpaw dipped her head.

“Thanks Mothwing. Sorreltail and I should get going anyway,” she said, shooting Hawkfrost a nervous glance.

Sorreltail kept glaring at Hawkfrost as Leafpaw picked up the herbs. With a final blink of goodbye to Mothwing, Leafpaw and Sorreltail bounded across the stepping stones, soon disappearing into the dense underground. Mothwing kept her back to Hawkfrost, turning back to the feverfew to pick a few more leaves for the bundle that she would bring to Mudfur, but she could still sense her brother’s presence behind her, looming like a building storm.

“What was that, Mothwing?” Hawkfrost said in a low, rumbling voice. “Inviting ThunderClan cats onto our territory? Giving them herbs? Helping the enemy?”

Hot anger rolled in Mothwing’s belly, and she barely stopped her claws from unsheathing and sinking into the ground.

“Leafpaw is not my enemy,” Mothwing hissed, whirling on her brother. “She’s my friend. And, a medicine cat. We stand apart from your petty rivalries, remember?”

Hawkfrost’s eyes narrowed.

“And, what about that warrior with her?” he demanded.

“Sorreltail was only there as her escort! And Leafpaw vouched for her!” Mothwing snapped in exasperation. “Besides, she was just one cat. You’re acting like I invited an entire ThunderClan battle patrol across the river!”

Hawkfrost lifted his chin, his expression as cold and unfeeling as if it was carved from stone.

“I don’t approve of you talking to Leafpaw like this,” he growled. “She may be a medicine cat, but she’s still a ThunderClan cat.”

Mothwing’s eyes widened at his audacity, and she barked out an incredulous scoff. “Oh you ‘don’t approve?!’ You still don’t get it, do you? I’m a medicine cat, Hawkfrost! Your approval on this matter means about as much as a rat’s tail to me.”

A furious growl burst from Hawkfrost’s throat, and his claws flexed into the ground.

“I thought you cared about your Clan!” Hawkfrost spat, his blue eyes blazing.

“Of course I care about RiverClan!” Mothwing hissed, her ears flattening against her head. “But, you’re being irrational! Leafpaw, and ThunderClan in general, has done nothing to provoke RiverClan in moons. This thing with WindClan is clouding your judgment.”

“I’m not the one who’s judgment has been clouded!” Hawkfrost snarled. 

He took a sudden step forward to shove his bared fangs into Mothwing’s face, and Mothwing retreated backwards with a flinch of shock. 

“You’ve been drawn away from the Clan, I know it. You can’t be trusted to make decisions in the best interest of RiverClan when you care so much for a cat outside our borders! Don’t lie to me and say that you are just as close to our Clanmates as you are with Leafpaw. I’ve never seen you act like that around anyone else.”

Mothwing’s mouth gaped open for a moment while she struggled for words, the fur down her spine lifting as a wave of heat rushed through her pelt.

How much did Hawkfrost see?!

“W- were you spying on me and Leafpaw?!” Mothwing hissed in shock, recoiling another step from him.

Hawkfrost’s blue gaze narrowed to icy slits.

“It’s a good thing I saw what I did,” he rumbled in a low, ominous voice. “Being a medicine cat is starting to turn you disloyal, driving you away from me and our Clanmates. Exactly as I feared it would… but you wouldn’t listen to me before.”

Mothwing stared at Hawkfrost, too stunned to speak. 

What is he even saying?! He thinks I’m being disloyal?! I’m working my tail off, and everything I do as a medicine cat is to try to help him and our Clanmates!

A surge of powerful emotions rose up in Mothwing like a flood, outrage and righteous anger roaring in her ears. Steeling herself, she stepped forward, shoving her muzzle towards his face with a furious hiss.

“Go eat fox-dung, Hawkfrost!” Mothwing snarled, her golden pelt fluffed up and her tail whipping from side to side. “Being a medicine cat is hard, and sometimes confusing and isolating. But, if given the chance, I’d choose to become one again and again, a thousand times over. You know why? Because I get to make hurt cats better, heal wounds, and save lives!”

Mothwing curled her lip back in an ugly, derisive snarl, raking a glare as sharp as thorns over Hawkfrost’s face. 

“At least I’m doing something worthwhile, instead of lying to all my Clanmates about stupid fish-stealing just to start a fight!” she spat. “So have you ever considered that maybe you’re the one who isn’t loyal to our Clanmates?!”

Hawkfrost’s eyes flared with fury, but Mothwing didn’t give him the chance to respond. She just snatched up the herbs she’d picked and sprinted into the reeds, bounding back to camp.

Chapter Text

The sky remained blanketed with grey clouds even as the afternoon began, but luckily that hardly mattered now to Crowpaw and the others. With Purdy, they finally had a guide who knew the way out of the twoleg-place— no sun required. 

They encountered more good luck when Tawnypelt sniffed out a mouse who was scavenging from some silver bins for Brambleclaw to eat not long after they restarted their journey. Crowpaw felt relief trickle down his spine. Now everyone finally had full bellies for the first time in sunrises. Hopefully that would give them the strength to travel for the rest of the day, and maybe even into the night. Purdy claimed that they were only about a day’s walk away from the edge of the ‘town’ as he called it.

We can finally leave this StarClan-forsaken place.

As they padded down the twisting thunderpaths, avoiding twolegs and monsters, Crowpaw was grateful that Purdy had chosen a different story to tell this time— something about climbing a really tall tree— instead of beginning the rat one again. 

Crowpaw was also grateful that with so many other cats around now, it was much easier for him to avoid being the sole target of Purdy’s attention. Crowpaw hung out in the back of the patrol, watching the elder talking Stormfur’s ear off as they walked ahead of him. Stormfur nodded along as Purdy wove his tales, and Crowpaw glanced at the RiverClan warrior with a mixture of amusement and pity. Even if Stormfur was growing tired of the stories, Crowpaw knew he would be much too polite to bluntly tell Purdy to be quiet.

The poor sap will be stuck listening to him until we leave the twoleg-place!

Crowpaw shook his head with a quiet huff of laughter to himself, but he stiffened quickly as Feathertail suddenly slowed her pace, dropping back to his side.

“Hey,” she said lightly.

“Hey,” Crowpaw muttered in response, glancing away from her.

Despite the forgiveness she, and everyone else, had given him, Crowpaw was still finding it difficult to meet Feathertail’s eye. Embarrassment and shame burned deep in his belly every time he looked at her. It just reminded him how he’d led them into such a dangerous situation with the dogs, and then how he ran away afterwards— abandoning her and the others— instead of immediately going to search for them and make sure they were okay.

“It sounds like you were awfully busy in the one day we were apart,” Feathertail said, her voice gently teasing. “You rescued me from a twoleg trap, fed almost all of us, found a guide to get us out of this twoleg-place, and you learned to fish without me even having to teach you!”

Crowpaw’s belly twisted. He wasn’t not in the right mood right now for her playful tone.

“Purdy caught the fish. Not me,” he muttered, still staring out in front of them instead of looking at her. “And, you shouldn’t be giving me credit for any of those things. I don’t deserve it.”

Crowpaw sensed Feathertail’s mood shift to something more serious as she fell silent for a moment.

“Why don’t you deserve it?” she asked in a soft voice. “Okay, maybe you didn’t catch the fish, but you did everything else.”

Crowpaw clenched his jaw, giving his ears a swift shake. His gaze flitted over their other companions, making sure they weren’t listening in before he started to speak again.

“I only found Purdy because I ran away from Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw,” he confessed, his voice barely above a rasp in volume.

He risked a glance over at Feathertail, and he found her staring at him in surprise, her eyes wide. But, her expression softened as their gazes met.

“Why did you run away from them?” she asked, her voice quiet and non-judgemental.

Crowpaw lashed his tail, biting back a growl, although he couldn’t tell what exactly he was angry at. Maybe it was just himself.

“Because… I don’t fit in here, with you guys!” he hissed in a low voice, and he was shocked that his eyes suddenly started stinging. “I just screw things up, and I’m too mean, and before I got my saltwater sign, I wasn’t even sure if StarClan even wanted me here anymore…”

He tore his gaze away from Feathertail, staring fiercely down at his paws instead.

“You’re the only one who’s really nice to me, and that’s only because you’re nice to everyone,” he muttered. “So that’s why I ran off. I didn’t think anyone would want me around anymore, especially after I led you all straight to the dogs.”

“None of that is true!” Feathertail protested in a low voice, drawing his gaze back to hers. “We do want you here, Crowpaw, and StarClan must really want you here too. You were the youngest cat chosen for the prophecy, chosen even when you were an apprentice! Why else would they have done that if they didn’t completely believe that you were the right cat?”

Crowpaw’s neck fur rose slightly, and he glared away from her.

“I hate being looked at like that. Like I’m just some apprentice,” he muttered fiercely.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Feathertail chided. “If anything, this journey has proved the opposite— we’re all equals here, and we’ve all contributed to us getting to this point. Even if you won’t take credit for helping rescue me from the twoleg or finding Purdy, you’ve still had plenty of good ideas that have helped us. Also, you saved Squirrelpaw from being trampled by a horse, remember? And, at the very start of the journey, you fought off the farm cat that was attacking me!”

“Only after I caused that problem too,” Crowpaw mumbled, his belly churning.

 Feathertail gave a quiet huff of exasperation, her tail flicking sharply against his flank as if to knock him out of his mire of self-pity.

“The important thing is that you’re realizing when you’ve made mistakes, and you’re working to make up for them,” she said firmly. “No one is perfect, Crowpaw. Not even me. I don’t even think I’m half as kind as you make me out to be.”

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed, her words prompting him to look back over at her.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

Feathertail sighed heavily, and now it was her eyes that flitted away.

“I’m talking about RiverClan,” she said. “How distant and cold I can be to my Clanmates. Sometimes I think that I can even be just as rotten as them.”

Crowpaw’s ears pricked up in consternation, his focus sharpening in on her word choice.

“Wait— What?! You think you’re rotten?” Crowpaw asked in outrage. “No! You’re their victim! The rest of them can rot.”

Feathertail was silent for a moment, staring out into the distance. Crowpaw gazed at her face, and his ears twisted back in surprise and confusion when a shadow of guilt crept across her expression.

“Yeah, I’ve been the victim,” Feathertail muttered. “But, that doesn’t mean that I’m completely blameless for everything. I can hold a grudge, and I’m a hypocrite. Well, I would never blame a cat for being born half-Clan like Tigerstar did to me… but I’ve still blamed cats for the crimes of their parents, and I know I’ve harmed some of my Clanmates because of that. They aren’t even cats who ever did anything to me. I’m just… petty and… mean.”

Crowpaw snorted, giving his tail a decisive lash.

“Well if you’re ‘mean,’ I don’t want to know what I am,” he retorted. “Like you said— no one’s perfect. You’re allowed to be good and also be kinda mean sometimes.”

Feathertail glanced back over at him, her whiskers twitching in faint amusement as she seemed to cheer up slightly.

“You’re giving me permission?” she asked.

Crowpaw shrugged. “Sure. If you need it.”

A spark of humor appeared back in Feathertail’s eyes, chasing away the rest of the guilt.

“Oh Stormfur is not going to like that,” she purred.

“Got a lot of pent-up pettiness towards him to work through, huh?” Crowpaw asked drily.

“Something like that,” Feathertail said with a mischievous flick of her tail.

Crowpaw rolled his eyes, but a faint purr also began to rumble in his chest as his mood started to lighten.

“But… Crowpaw,” Feathertail added, growing serious again. “If that’s true about me, I think the same applies to you. You’re a good cat.”

Crowpaw’s stomach fluttered with emotion, although this time it wasn’t guilt, when he gazed into Feathertail’s eyes. His heart rate ticked up, and he looked away from her, just focusing for a moment on the movement of his paws and the droning of Purdy’s voice as it drifted back to his ears.

“If you want to feel like you fit in better with the others, maybe you should try opening up to them a bit more,” Feathertail continued in a soft voice. “Ask them about themselves, and tell them about yourself, like how we’ve talked together. If you do, I know they’ll see what a great cat you are… just like I do.”

Crowpaw’s eyes flashed over to meet Feathertail’s again, and his chest tightened. Her expression was warm with gentle affection as she gazed at him, and it infused his muscles with a powerful energy, like he could sprint for leagues and leagues without tiring.

Feathertail is so wonderful, and for some reason, she’s not just being nice because she’s a nice cat, but because she likes me— me! — just… because of who I am? I don’t deserve it, but maybe I can try to. Just like how I can work to show StarClan that they made the right choice in picking me, I can work to be better— to be worthy of Feathertail’s attention.

Crowpaw’s pelt tingled, and he felt his heart start to pound even harder against his ribs.

Could Feathertail really care about me as much as I care about her?

Feathertail’s intent eyes scoured Crowpaw’s, making his breath catch in his throat. 

How much do I care about her? …This isn’t just a normal friendship, is it?

Those were treasonous thoughts, but, shockingly, Crowpaw couldn’t find it in himself to care. Even though this whole journey had started with the purpose of saving the Clans from some sort of danger, WindClan felt an awful long ways away from Crowpaw right now. But, Feathertail was here, right in front of him, her beautiful silver and black pelt billowing around her, less than a tail-length away.

Unfortunately though, their traveling companions were all right there too. As Feathertail and Crowpaw had been talking, their pace had grown slower, and they’d fallen behind the others. Squirrelpaw was the one to notice their absence and glance over her shoulder to look back at them.

“Have you two decided you want to stay here with the dogs and the twolegs?!” she yowled from down the thunderpath. “Pick up the pace! We haven’t got all moon!”

Crowpaw’s fur rippled as he snapped out of the perfect little bubble that was only him and Feathertail and was rudely torn back to reality. 

He sent a scorching glower at Squirrelpaw for interrupting the moment, but Feathertail just called back, “Coming!” and broke into a trot.

Crowpaw followed her, his tail still flicking with annoyance as they caught back up to the others. Feathertail went on ahead towards Stormfur, but Crowpaw spared Squirrelpaw another glare first. Squirrelpaw’s brows lifted in a look of false innocence as their gazes met.

“What’s the matter? Did I interrupt something?” she asked, her voice sweet, but a devilish glint in her eyes.

Crowpaw blinked, his irritation fading as embarrassment reared up to replace it.

Oh no… Are my feelings for Feathertail really so obvious?!

Squirrelpaw smugly twitched her whiskers as she continued to stare at him, and Crowpaw’s pelt flushed with heat.

“Shut up,” he hissed between his fangs.

Squirrelpaw just cackled, loud purrs of amusement rumbling in her chest, and Crowpaw’s ears somehow managed to grow even warmer. He put on a small burst of speed, pulling ahead of her and ending up next to Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt, his pelt still ruffled. As Crowpaw matched pace with them, Brambleclaw sent a glance over from the corners of his sharp amber eyes.

“How reliable do you think Purdy’s directions are?” he muttered to Crowpaw, nodding towards the elder’s patchy-furred back. “I mean, he seems confident, but…”

Brambleclaw’s voice trailed off, and Tawnypelt shot him an astute look.

“...He might also have nothing but bees in his brain?” she suggested.

Brambleclaw didn’t verbally respond, but his gaze did darken with uncertainty when it rested on Purdy. The elder was currently describing the tree he’d climbed to Stormfur and Feathertail, claiming it to be ‘taller than a mountain.’

Crowpaw’s ears flicked. He didn’t blame Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt for their doubts— Purdy’s obvious exaggerations and rambly way of speaking would lead any reasonable cat to question if the elder actually knew what he was talking about.

“He’s a bit strange, and he loves to talk,” Crowpaw admitted. “But, I think he knows more than you’d think from a first impression. He did actually help me through the twoleg-place before. Although his pace was slow… but that’s better than us going the wrong way, right? We can at least give him until the end of the day, since he says that we should be close to leaving the twoleg-place.”

Brambleclaw studied him silently for a moment, his expression unreadable. Crowpaw stared back at him, his neck fur starting to prickle defensively as the moments stretched on. Did Brambleclaw think he was rabbit-brained for trusting Purdy to guide them out of here? 

“Alright,” Brambleclaw finally said, dipping his head slightly. “If you think so.”

Crowpaw gave a surprised blink at the ease Brambleclaw had accepted his opinion, and his fur flattened. Maybe Feathertail was right, and the others didn’t actually dislike him so much. He twisted his head to rasp through his shoulder fur as awkward silence fell between them for a moment. After another heartbeat passed, Crowpaw inhaled deeply, steeling himself. 

“Thanks for trusting me about this,” Crowpaw mumbled under his breath.

Brambleclaw’s ears perked in surprise at Crowpaw’s response, and he glanced over at him.

“Well… you’ve got good instincts,” Brambleclaw said once the surprise had worn off.

“Most of the time,” Tawnypelt cut in, giving her tail a swish. “I still haven’t forgotten about the dogs.”

Crowpaw’s ears flattened against his head, but Tawnypelt shot him a cheeky look.

She’s not really upset, just teasing me, he realized.

Crowpaw gave his pelt a shake with a huff. 

Feathertail says that I should try to open up to them all more… But, that means I’ll have to put up with them being annoying rabbit-brains like this even more than I already do!

The day trickled by as they continued on. Although Crowpaw’s wounded leg hadn’t been bothering him too much at first, it started to fiercely stiffen up as the cloudy sky darkened and dusk approached. It hindered his pace more and more, so despite his best attempts to avoid Squirrelpaw, he still eventually found himself trailing back at the end of the patrol with her. Crowpaw tried hard to hide his limp, but Squirrelpaw’s intelligent green gaze flickered over him, missing nothing.

“Is your leg hurting?” she demanded. “Let me take a look at it.” 

Squirrelpaw shoved her face towards his bitten limb, but Crowpaw shied back from her with an annoyed hiss.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled.

Squirrelpaw lashed her tail.

“I wish I had some herbs, but it’s impossible to find anything in this stupid twoleg-place!” Squirrelpaw said, completely ignoring him. “Dog’s mouths are so gross, and we can’t have the bite getting infected. But, I haven’t seen a single sprig of any herb I’ve recognized the whole time that we’ve been here!”

“It’s not infected,” Crowpaw huffed impatiently. “I’ve been keeping it clean and keeping an eye on it.”

“It’s not infected yet,” Squirrelpaw corrected.

Crowpaw growled in annoyance, whipping his thin tail from side to side.

“Can you shut up about my dumb leg?” he snapped. “I’ll tell you if it starts actually being a problem, so you don’t have to keep asking about it.”

A mischievous look that Crowpaw did not like at all crept across Squirrelpaw’s face

“Oh great! So that means that you wanna talk about something else instead?” Squirrelpaw asked, firing out the words so quickly that Crowpaw couldn’t help but feel like he’d walked right into some kind of trap. “Like how about, um, Feathertail?”

Crowpaw’s pelt began to itch with heat again. His gaze nervously darted around the others, but they all seemed too far away or too caught up in their own conversations to be paying attention to what Squirrelpaw was saying.

“No. I just want to walk in total silence,” Crowpaw growled, doing his best to fix his eyes forward and ignore her.

“Aw, but that’s not nearly as fun!” Squirrelpaw whined, an eager bounce appearing in her step. “Come on, Crowpaw! I’m dying of curiosity, and if you think that you’re not gonna talk about it because you’re being sneaky or something, you’re so wrong! I mean, a blind mouse could probably see it! It doesn’t take a genius to wonder about why the grumpy loner cat only wants to hang out with one other cat all the time. And, she’s the only one he’ll really open up to, and she just also happens to be very pretty…”

“I’m not talking about this!” Crowpaw said, grinding the words out between his fangs in a low tone that left no room for argument.

Squirrelpaw’s ears flattened in a pout.

“Okay fine,” she sniffed. “Maybe I’ll just go talk about it with someone else then. Maybe Stormfur? I’m very curious about what he might think about this.”

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur rose in horror, his gaze snapping to Squirrelpaw and her smug expression.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled.

Squirrelpaw lifted her chin, her eyes already gleaming with victory. “You wanna try me?”

Crowpaw hesitated, his blue gaze burning into her green one. As a few more heartbeats passed and Crowpaw remained silent, Squirrelpaw quickened her pace, taking a couple of steps in Stormfur’s direction.

“Okay, okay! Stop it!” he hissed under his breath, his entire pelt burning.

Squirrelpaw immediately dropped back to his side, practically vibrating with excitement.

“So that means you’ll talk to me about it then?” she asked, her green eyes bright in an expression that Crowpaw found to be far too cheerful for the situation.

“You’re absolutely the most despicable creature I’ve ever met, you know that?” Crowpaw snarled, his eyes narrowing to slits.

Squirrelpaw flicked her bushy dark-red tail, appearing entirely unbothered.

“Brambleclaw tells me the same thing all the time,” she chirped. “Now come on! Give me the details!”

Crowpaw shifted his weight, his burning irritation giving way to a hesitant uncertainty. How did Squirrelpaw expect him to explain anything when he was still trying to sort out his feelings himself?

“What do you want to know?” Crowpaw growled warily.

Squirrelpaw’s big green eyes stretched even wider than normal. “Are you in love with her?”

Crowpaw’s stomach flipped.

“‘Love?!’” he hissed incredulously. “Are you serious? I only just figured out that I liked her today!”

His ears twitched.

Although, honestly I probably should’ve known that earlier, he silently acknowledged. I just didn’t want to admit it.

“Oh really?” Squirrelpaw’s whiskers drooped with slight disappointment. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you were. I’d like to know what it’s like to be in love.”

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t you have cats in your Clan that you could’ve asked about that instead of pestering me?” he grumbled. “Like, I don’t know… your parents?”

Squirrelpaw’s face screwed up, and she stuck her tongue out.

“But, they’re my parents! Ew!” she protested, but then she relaxed again a moment later, sighing as she turned more serious and contemplative. “Besides, all of my other Clanmates are back home. And, I’m pretty sure no one else here has been in love before either, so you were my best shot.”

“Why do you even care so much about this?” Crowpaw muttered, his tail-tip flicking.

“I just want to know if it’s really like how the elders say in the stories,” she meowed earnestly, her gaze brightening. “How wonderful they say it is, but how it can also drive a cat mad!”

Crowpaw shook his ears.

Squirrelpaw was usually so stubborn and infuriating that it was easy to forget that she did also have a softer side that came with a wide-eyed sense of wonder and curiosity— like how enraptured she’d been by the sheep. Although Crowpaw would never admit it to Squirrelpaw’s face, truthfully, he found it to be one of her more endearing traits. It was at least enough right now to take the edge off of her twisting his paw to force him to talk to her about this.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Maybe you’ll just have to wait until you fall in love, and figure it out yourself.”

Squirrelpaw shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess…”

Her voice trailed off as the droning of Purdy’s voice suddenly died out, and without the elder’s constant babbling, an uneasy silence fell over the group. Crowpaw blinked in confusion as Purdy slowed to a stop and turned to gaze back at everyone, his brow furrowed. They all gathered around Purdy to see why he’d halted.

“What’s the matter?” Stormfur asked.

Purdy blinked at Stormfur but turned his gaze onto Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw before finally settling on Crowpaw.

“Y’all remember my story about the rat, right?” he asked.

Crowpaw stiffened. Purdy hadn’t just stopped them to tell them about the rat again, had he? After Crowpaw had vouched for him to Brambleclaw?!

“Purdy…” Crowpaw began, his voice a low rumble.

“Them rats,” Purdy continued before he could say anything else, his tone insisting. “They live around here. We gotta be careful. No good way around ‘em I’m afraid.”

He blinked at the group apologetically. “We are close though. Should be gettin’ to the end of the town with not too much longer.”

Crowpaw and his companions exchanged a wary glance. Rats could be vicious in large numbers, and although their bites did far less damage than a larger animal, the risk of infection for a rat bite was even higher than that of a dog’s. But, some vermin was hopefully nothing that a group of warriors couldn’t handle, right?

“How much longer until the end?” Brambleclaw asked Purdy. “Should we rest for the night now, or push on past the rats?”

“Hm,” Purdy mused, scratching his chin with a hindpaw as he studied the darkening sky. “It’ll be proper dark by the time, but not yet midnight when we’re out.”

Brambleclaw blinked, turning to sweep his gaze over the others. “What do you guys think?”

Tawnypelt flexed her claws.

“I say we go. I’m tired of this place,” she growled.

Squirrelpaw gave a loud meow of agreement.

“I can push on,” Stormfur said with a dip of his head.

“Me too,” Feathertail added, her tail lashing determinedly.

Brambleclaw glanced at Crowpaw. Crowpaw nodded when their eyes met.

“Okay. Let’s go,” Crowpaw said, his voice low.

Everyone stayed tense and alert for danger as they entered the area Purdy designated as ‘rat territory.’ They padded along a tall fence on one side, and it wasn’t long before a sickly scent— something rotten like the twoleg trash they’d encountered before, but magnified much stronger— drifted into Crowpaw’s nostrils.

“It smells like the Carrionplace,” Tawnypelt muttered under her breath, her pelt rippling uneasily.

Crowpaw blinked. He’d never seen the Carrionplace himself, since it was in the middle of ShadowClan territory, but there were plenty of stories about the rats and diseases that called that place home. 

As if his thoughts had summoned it, only a few moments later, the sour scent of rat cut through the smell of trash, making Crowpaw’s fur bristle, and a dry chittering sound crept into his ears.

“There!” Brambleclaw meowed the warning.

Crowpaw turned just in time to see three huge rats squeeze out from under the fence near Brambleclaw, their beady black eyes glinting in the low light and their big yellowed teeth bared. They whipped their naked tail and sprung at the tabby warrior, swarming over him. Crowpaw lunged towards Brambleclaw with a snarl, but he didn’t have the chance to reach him. More rats had appeared from the other side of the fence, streaming onto the path like a squealing river of greasy fur and surrounding them. 

Several leapt at Crowpaw with vicious squeaks. Crowpaw quickly danced back with a snarl, one of the rat’s teeth just grazing his ankle but not breaking the skin. He lashed out at them in response— dazing one with a solid slam to its head, and sending another one flying with a hit from his other forepaw. 

From the corner of his eye Crowpaw saw Tawnypelt stagger as the rats crawled over her, her tortoiseshell fur nearly blotted out by the writhing brown mass. She snarled fiercely as one rat dug its teeth into her shoulder, gashing deep wounds into her flesh. Somehow though, she still remained standing, her green eyes alight with fury as she snapped at the vermin.

Crowpaw surged towards her, leaping over other attacking rats and ignoring the small scratches they left on his legs and sides to reach Tawnypelt. He ripped two rats from her flank, his claws trailing down their backs and leaving furrows of red blood in their fur as he tossed them aside. Then he turned to the rat that was biting her shoulder. His jaws closed around its neck, and he felt its spine snap beneath his fangs as a salty rush of blood filled his mouth. As he dropped the now dead rat to the ground, Tawnypelt shook off the rest, killing two as the others fled.

“Thanks,” she panted to Crowpaw.

Crowpaw only spared the time to give a curt nod in response, already diving back into the fray. Stormfur was nearby, his stance planted solidly, but his paws moved with rapid speed as he kept any rat from getting too close to him. Squirrelpaw was not faring nearly as well. The small-statured she-cat had been pulled to the ground, struggling under a few massive rats who were nearly as big as she was. 

Crowpaw darted forward to help her, passing Stormfur as he did so. One of Stormfur’s paws lashed out, knocking away a rat leaping for Crowpaw that he hadn’t even noticed. Crowpaw shot Stormfur a brief, grateful glance before turning his focus back to Squirrelpaw. He dragged one of the rats off of her flank, his claws ripping into its flesh. 

Snarling like a lion, Squirrelpaw gripped all of her claws into the remaining two rats on top of her, tearing clunks of their fur off and sending blood splattering through the air as she slaughtered them. Then she twisted back to her feet in a flash, leaping to go help Feathertail as the RiverClan warrior defended Purdy from the onslaught. Despite his age, Purdy was fighting back surprisingly well, although it did still look like Squirrelpaw’s help was gratefully received by both him and Feathertail.

But Crowpaw’s attention was torn away from them when sudden pain shot up the ankle of his injured hind-leg. The jolt of it was enough to make him unsteady, and then he lost his balance completely when his attackers gave his leg a firm tug, pulling him to the ground. Crowpaw snarled, twisting to try to look back at them, and he caught a glimpse of two rats yanking on his hurt leg. He kicked out, but they doggedly held on, dodging his kicks. But, then Brambleclaw was there, dispatching the rats with a few blows of his massive paws. 

Crowpaw heaved himself back to his feet, his injured leg aching even more than before. Despite the pain, he still inhaled a deep breath, readying himself for more attacks.

But, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The surviving rats retreated back under the hole in the fence, leaving the cats panting and several rat bodies littered on the ground behind them. 

As the energy from the fight ebbed from Crowpaw’s body, he found himself completely hollowed out and drained. The many days of wandering helplessly through the twoleg-place, the fight with the dogs yesterday, his fragmented sleep last night, and the ground he’d covered today had finally all caught up with him, and exhaustion dragged at every hair on his pelt. Crowpaw sat down heavily, twisting to rasp his tongue over the dog bite on his leg and the new scrapes he’d gained from the rats. He prayed to StarClan that they wouldn’t get infected now.

From the corner of his eye, Crowpaw saw Tawnypelt slowly pad past him, but he kept his focus on his task of grooming. Although, Brambleclaw’s concerned gasp of “Tawnypelt!” tore Crowpaw’s attention away.

Crowpaw looked up with a blink, his gaze widening in shock as he noticed that Tawnypelt was swaying slightly on her paws, eyes half-lidded. Her shoulder and side fur was clumped with blood. More dripped from the nasty wound to the stone ground, appearing black in the cloudy, moonless night.

Crowpaw was on his paws in a flash, pushing his side to Tawnypelt’s uninjured one to steady her.

“...I’m fine,” Tawnypelt mumbled, her tongue stumbling in her mouth, but she somehow still summoned the energy to shoot Crowpaw a displeased glance from the corners of her eyes.

“Like mouse-dung you are!” Squirrelpaw exclaimed, her wide eyes staring at the deep wound. “I need to find some cobwebs to stop the bleeding!” 

“I’ll help you look,” Stormfur quickly offered. “Besides, there may still be rats around. We should watch each others’ backs.”

Squirrelpaw gave him a nod, the two slinking off as Brambleclaw reached Crowpaw and Tawnypelt. He prodded his sister to sit with a gentle but firm push of his muzzle before silently getting to work rasping his tongue through her fur to clean out the blood and better reveal the extent of her injury.

Feathertail turned to Purdy.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to travel much more tonight,” she said. “Where’s the nearest place we can rest?” 

“It’s close,” Purdy urged, his ears flicking with excitement, or maybe it was impatience. “We’re almost there.”

“How close?” Feathertail said, probing for more detail. “I don’t think Tawnypelt will be able to go on much longer.”

Tawnypelt’s tail twitched.

“Stop it. You're all fretting like a mother goose,” she grumbled, her voice coming out a bit stronger and clearer now. “No need to stop because of me.”

“We’re all tired, Tawnypelt,” Brambleclaw cut in, pausing his grooming. “It makes sense to stop. We can always finish the rest of the journey out of the twoleg-place tomorrow.”

Tawnypelt scowled, but Brambleclaw leaned over to give her cheek a gentle nudge with his muzzle.

“Come on, you’re supposed to be the logical one, right?” he added in a softly teasing voice. “You know I’m right.”

Tawnypelt grumbled something incomprehensible.

Squirrelpaw and Stormfur returned then, their mouths full of cobwebs which they quickly started pressing to her cuts to stem the flow of blood. Tawnypelt grimaced as they put pressure on her wounds but didn’t protest.

“This is the best I can do for now,” Squirrelpaw said, her brow furrowed in concern. “Fox-dung, I wish I had some herbs!”

“It’s okay,” Tawnypelt grunted, heaving herself to her paws. “This will do. Now are we all going to keep standing here like stunned mice or are we going to keep going?”

Brambleclaw sighed.

“Fine. We will try to make it to the place Purdy is thinking of to rest, but if you need to stop before that, Tawnypelt, we will make do with what’s there,” Brambleclaw said.

“...Fine,” Tawnypelt reluctantly conceded, her tail-tip flicking.

They set off again down the thunderpath, their pace much slower this time. Surprisingly, Purdy seemed to have the most vigor in his step out of all of them, heading the patrol and looking back impatiently at the others every so often.

They limped to the end of the thunderpath, and Purdy turned them to the side, thankfully heading away from the fence that contained the rats. They continued down the new path, a dull-red stone wall surrounding them this time, and Purdy glanced back again.

“Almost there!” he encouraged the flagging Clan-cats.

Crowpaw could only muster a grunt in reply. The lack-luster response didn’t deter Purdy though; he’d already disappeared around the next corner of the stone wall, his tail flicking. Although at first Tawnypelt had been staggering along with her head held high, even the proud ShadowClan warrior seemed to be reaching her limit. Her tail now dragged on the ground, and she was panting hard. Feathertail gazed at Tawnypelt in concern, before turning her gaze onto Crowpaw.

“She can’t go on much longer,” Feathertail muttered.

Crowpaw nodded, his stomach clenching. Hopefully they would reach the place to rest that Purdy had been talking about soon. 

But, Crowpaw’s hopes all crumbled away when he followed Purdy around the bend, and he froze as if his paws had suddenly become rooted to the ground.

There was nothing in front of them. A few fox-lengths ahead, the thunderpath just ended abruptly in a high wall, blocking the path with the same dull red stone that had surrounded them for days. Purdy was just standing there by the wall waiting for them, his amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“What is this?!” Crowpaw growled, his voice sharp with frustration and exhaustion. “I thought you said that a good place to rest was close!”

The gleam in Purdy’s eyes faded as his ears flattened in confusion and hurt at Crowpaw’s tone.

“Whaddya mean?” he asked.

Crowpaw snarled, his fur spiking. How did this elder not get it? Was his brain really so addled like Tawnypelt thought?

And, I vouched for him to the others!

“We can’t rest here! There’s nothing here at all!” Crowpaw snapped. “Why would you even bring us here? Do you have any real idea where we’re going? How many more days will we be trapped?!”

Feathertail pressed her side to his comfortingly.

“It’s okay,” she murmured into Crowpaw’s ear. “We’ll find a way out of this vile place sooner or later.”

Crowpaw’s lip twitched, upset still bubbling in him.

But how long will that take? he wanted to snarl. I was trying to help, but have I just delayed us more by trusting an old fool?

Feathertail turned to glance behind them as the rest of their patrol rounded the corner, aiding the slowing Tawnypelt. Crowpaw watched as Brambleclaw, Stormfur, and Squirrelpaw blinked in dismay as they took in the dead-end. Tawnypelt, though, seemed too exhausted to care— or perhaps to even notice.

“We need to find some place else to rest,” Feathertail declared. “At least some kind of shelter.”

Brambleclaw nodded.

“We can split up. One of us stays here with Tawnypelt, and the others go out to find something nearby. Then we all meet back here and go to the best place…”

“Hey, where’s Purdy?” Squirrelpaw interrupted suddenly.

With a blink of surprise, Crowpaw glanced over his shoulder and back towards the red stone walls. The old cat was gone. Crowpaw’s ears pinned back. He didn’t know if he should feel relieved, upset, or furious. 

Crowpaw looked away again, his stomach twisting.

“Are y’all comin’?”

Crowpaw’s eyes flashed back towards the voice, his ears jutting up in shock. Purdy’s head had reappeared, poking through a shadowy gap in the corner of the wall that Crowpaw had not noticed until now. 

Crowpaw’s fur prickled in confusion as Purdy withdrew again. After the group exchanged an uncertain glance, Brambleclaw led the way in padding over to the gap, his brow furrowed. Brambleclaw cautiously stuck his head into the hole formed by the crumbling part of the wall, and all at once, he stiffened, inhaling sharply.

“What? What is it?” Squirrelpaw demanded, her shoulder fur lifting in worry.

“A forest!” Brambleclaw exclaimed, and Crowpaw thought he’d never heard the stern, stoic warrior sound so gleeful before. “A real forest! Oh thank StarClan!”

Crowpaw’s eyes widened, a flood of shock and relief running through him.

So we did finally make it through the twoleg-place?!

“Come on!” Brambleclaw yowled eagerly, shoving his way through the hole. 

Squirrelpaw was right on his tail, her pelt rippling in excitement, while Stormfur and Feathertail helped Tawnypelt through the gap next at a bit of a slower pace. Once the siblings were through, Crowpaw trailed through after them, and he blinked as he emerged. 

There was not a single twoleg den or thunderpath in sight. There was just a grass-covered slope dotted with clumps of gorse, and beyond that, nothing but trees. Knots of tension loosened in Crowpaw’s muscles, and he felt like he could collapse in relief right then and there.

“I told ya we were close,” Purdy purred, his whiskers twitching in smug satisfaction. “And, I got us here before midnight, like I said, didn’t I?”

“When you said we were ‘close,’ I didn’t think you meant close to leaving the twoleg-place entirely!” Feathertail exclaimed before turning to blink gratefully at the elder. “Thank you, Purdy.”

Crowpaw’s ears flattened in embarrassment as he glanced over at the elder.

“Yeah, thank you. I’m sorry I yowled at you,” he muttered.

“Y’all are just tired,” Purdy said, dismissing his apology with a good-natured purr. “Young cats don’t got any stamina.”

Crowpaw twitched his ears, but took Purdy’s teasing in stride. He at least deserved a bit of it for doubting the old tom.

“Let's make it up to the tree-line, then get settled in for the night,” Brambleclaw said, draping his tail over his sister’s back. 

“It won’t be much further,” he added to her specifically.

“I can keep going longer, for as long as the rest of you want to go,” Tawnypelt protested despite the fact her eyes were glazed with exhaustion.

“Well I don’t want to go longer. I’m about to fall asleep right here,” Stormfur cut in, yawning widely.

Squirrelpaw nodded vigorously in agreement. “My feet are aching so much, it feels like I’m going to walk my paws right off!”

“Then we’ll sleep now and take care of hunting and looking for herbs after we get some rest,” Brambleclaw decided, although he shot a worried glance at Tawnypelt’s shoulder wound.

The group limped their way up the slope, and Crowpaw sighed contentedly at the feeling of cool grass under his paws after spending days and days walking on the rough stone ground of the twoleg-place. When they reached the shelter of the undergrowth, Stormfur busied himself flattening some ferns to make a nest for Tawnypelt, which she gratefully sank into as soon as he was done. Squirrelpaw patched up the cobwebs on Tawnypelt’s shoulder while Crowpaw, Feathertail, and Stormfur quickly fashioned other makeshift nests for the rest of them all to sleep in.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Brambleclaw said, lifting his chin although Crowpaw was certain he must be just as exhausted as everyone else. “You all get some rest.”

Purdy settled down with them, and Crowpaw didn’t have the energy to question it, although he wasn’t sure if he loved the idea of the elder tagging along for the rest of their journey to the sundrown-place. No matter how helpful he’d been so far, there was only so many of his endless stories that Crowpaw could take. 

But, for now at least, Crowpaw held his tongue. As he curled up in one of the flattened fern patches, Feathertail laid down only a mouse-length away from him, and she wordlessly twisted her head over to groom some dried blood off of Crowpaw’s side. A soft, rusty purr rumbled to life in Crowpaw’s throat at the feeling of her soothing licks on his pelt. 

As Crowpaw’s eyelids drooped shut and he caught a final glance of his friends curling up in their makeshift nests, a sense of contentment that he hadn’t felt since he left WindClan settled over him as softly as a blanket of feathers. A moment later, his eyes closed completely, and Crowpaw slipped off to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Psst. Hey, wake up.”

Crowpaw’s eyes flickered open to be greeted by weak dawn light and Feathertail’s sky-blue eyes peering down at him, round with concern.

“We think Tawnypelt’s wound is infected,” Feathertail continued in a loud whisper. “Squirrelpaw’s gone out to look for herbs. Brambleclaw is sleeping after he kept watch for most of the night, and Stormfur is keeping watch now for him and Tawnypelt, who’s still resting… Do you want to come hunting with me so we can try to find some prey for everyone?”

Crowpaw’s stomach clenched eagerly at the thought of food, although the news about Tawnypelt’s wound also made it churn with anxiety. An infection could easily kill a cat without proper treatment. Unbidden, Crowpaw’s gaze was pulled back to his own injured leg, but his cuts still seemed a healthy pink color, and no heat radiated off of them.

Feathertail was still staring at him, waiting for his answer. Crowpaw nodded, accepting her offer and lifting his head from the ground to glance towards Tawnypelt. He could see the raw red of the gash on her shoulder, and the sickly scent of infection drifted into his nose and made his lip curl up in disgust from even a few tail-lengths away. Brambleclaw was tucked into a tight ball at his sister’s side, their flanks brushing as they both slept, although Brambleclaw’s brow was furrowed as if he was concerned about Tawnypelt even in his dreams. 

Stormfur sat only a fox-length away from them, and he blinked at Crowpaw in a silent greeting when their eyes met. Purdy was awake as well a little ways off, grooming his patchy tabby pelt. Crowpaw rose to his paws, and he and Feathertail started to pad away from their campsite. Purdy’s eyes flashed to them and he stood, trotting after them.

“Imma return to the town soon, but I wouldn’t feel right leaving now with Tawnypelt in the state she is,” Purdy commented as he reached them. “Maybe I can come with y’all to hunt for her?”

Feathertail dipped her head to him. “Thank you so much. We would be happy to have your help.”

Crowpaw nodded, although his jaw clenched in silent displeasure. Despite the worry about Tawnypelt that hung over him, he’d still been eager to spend some time alone with Feathertail. Now that they didn’t have the rats or being so exhausted to worry about, his conversation with Squirrelpaw yesterday about Feathertail had been brought back to the front of his mind, and it made his paws tingle with anxiety-inducing nervousness and excitement. 

Although Squirrelpaw hadn’t threatened to tell Feathertail about Crowpaw’s feelings like she’d had done about Stormfur, Crowpaw knew Squirrelpaw liked to stick her nose into other cats’ businesses too much to keep silent about it indefinitely. So… it would probably be better for Feathertail to hear it from Crowpaw instead of from Squirrelpaw, right?

Anticipation crackled off of every hair on Crowpaw’s pelt as he trailed after Feathertail and Purdy, heading deeper into the trees. Crowpaw didn’t know how he would get a chance to speak to Feathertail privately with Purdy around, but StarClan must have been watching over him since Purdy split off from them quickly, on the trail of some mice. Then it was just Crowpaw and Feathertail, alone in the woods. 

Crowpaw’s heartbeat pounded as loudly as the drumming of rabbit feet in his ears. This was his chance to finally talk to her. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly drier than sand. 

Come on! Just say something!

Crowpaw’s tail swished, but he hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to speak when Feathertail suddenly fell down in a crouch. Crowpaw’s gaze flashed ahead, noticing what she had— a squirrel gnawing at a nut near the base of a beech tree. 

Crowpaw hung back, giving Feathertail plenty of room as she crept forward, every pawstep as fluid as water. Although his nervousness continued to itch in his mind like a distracting flea, Crowpaw still found himself admiring Feathertail’s form as she moved, her dark stripes rippling like waves over the silver background of her pelt as if she really was the river come to life. 

But, despite all of Feathertail’s grace, the breeze direction shifted, and the squirrel’s head jerked up as it caught her scent. Knowing she’d been spotted, Feathertail bounded forward, but the squirrel was far faster. In a flash, it had scrambled up the beech tree, chattering angrily down at Feathertail from a branch for a moment before disappearing into the dense canopy.

“Fox-dung!” Feathertail cursed, her tail lashing in frustration as she gazed up at where the squirrel vanished.

Crowpaw trotted over to her side, and Feathertail glanced back at him, giving a rueful purr.

“Maybe it wasn’t my best idea for the two cats best suited for fishing and chasing prey down on the open moors to go hunting in the dense forest,” she joked.

Crowpaw swallowed down his nerves to make himself purr back softly in response.

“There is plenty of prey scent around. We’re bound to catch something,” he murmured.

Feathertail twitched her ears, and a spark of mischief appeared in her eyes. 

“And even if we don’t, Purdy will probably come back with a hundred pieces of prey to feed us all. Not only that, but they’ll be the biggest prey we’ve ever seen in our lives,” she meowed.

Crowpaw’s purr rumbled louder, more of his nervousness fading. “And, don’t forget that dog he killed in his spare time between hunts.”

“And, how he leapt so high when he jumped to catch a bird, he started to fly himself,” Feathertail added, her whiskers beginning to quiver as she barely kept her amusement at bay.

Mrrows of laughter suddenly bubbled up in both of their throats and started spilling out of them until their sides were shaking, and they were both left gasping for breath. 

Crowpaw wasn’t sure if their amusement was entirely appropriate, given Tawnypelt’s ill state, but maybe relief of being back in the wild after so many stressful days spent in the twoleg-place was making them giddy, or maybe the long, trying journey had finally just made them lose their minds entirely.

“Okay, we shouldn’t say that. Purdy has actually been really helpful,” Feathertail said as their purrs finally started quieting.

Crowpaw rolled his eyes with a playful huff.

“Someone can both be really helpful and really annoying,” he pointed out.

“Very true,” Feathertail purred. 

She took a moment to stretch, her back arching deeply.

“Well, we should probably keep going,” she said, her whiskers twitching. “Can you imagine what Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt would say if Purdy actually comes back with a lot of prey, and we’re empty pawed?”

“We’d never hear the end of it,” Crowpaw murmured.

“That’s for sure!” Feathertail said, although she didn’t sound at all upset by it. “So no more wasting time.”

“I don’t think it’s wasting time when I spend it with you,” Crowpaw said. 

He wasn’t sure where his bravery to speak those words came from because he stiffened as soon as they left his mouth and his mind finally caught up to his tongue. Feathertail clearly also wasn’t expecting it since her ears perked up in surprise. 

“I— I mean—” Crowpaw stammered, a rush of awkward and embarrassed heat running through his pelt. 

Feathertail turned to look at him, cutting Crowpaw off and making his breath catch in his throat when their gazes met. Her clear blue eyes were as beautiful and unobtainable as the wide open sky. Even if Crowpaw did have wings like his namesake, he still doubted that he’d ever be able to reach her.

But somehow, he didn’t have to, since it was Feathertail who moved closer, allowing their sides to brush and making lightning bolts tingle across his skin at every point of contact.

“I like spending time with you too. I just… I like you, Crowpaw,” she murmured, her expression so unbelievably soft as her gaze searched his face.

Although Crowpaw could still hardly breathe, a purr somehow rose in his throat, which was quickly echoed by Feathertail. Her plumy tail curled around his, and Crowpaw’s chest started to burn as if his heart had caught fire.

Crowpaw spent the rest of the hunt feeling so weightless, it was like he was walking on air. Every time his pelt brushed with Feathertail’s, it sent a new jolt of energy rushing through him, and he could hardly silence the purr in his throat. The feeling persisted all the way until he and Feathertail eventually returned back to their campsite with two mice and a robin for their friends, their hunger already sated by a couple of voles Crowpaw caught. But, Crowpaw’s joy was dampened when he took in the dour expressions of the others.

Everyone else was awake now, but Squirrelpaw had still not yet returned. Purdy had though, and he was the only peaceful looking of the bunch, having quietly resumed grooming his ragged pelt as he sat next to the couple of mice he caught.

Although a part of Crowpaw wanted to stay pressed closely to Feathertail’s side and continue reveling in the fact that she cared for him as much as he did for her, he resisted the urge. He couldn’t allow everyone to know yet— he still felt too self-conscious about how they might react. Feathertail seemed to feel the same way because she drew away from him to pad up to Tawnypelt as she sat in her nest, a sheen of fever coating her eyes.

“Here you go,” Feathertail meowed gently as she dropped a mouse at Tawnypelt’s paws. “How are you feeling?”

Tawnypelt’s ears flattened.

“Like fox-dung,” she complained. “I’m not even hungry.” 

But, she must have known she needed to keep up her strength, since Tawnypelt still bent her head and started eating in fast, mechanical bites without any protest.

Crowpaw drifted over to Brambleclaw and Stormfur, silently passing them the other mouse and the robin. Stormfur muttered his thanks, but Brambleclaw didn’t even glance at Crowpaw or the prey, instead he just continued to stare at his sister, his tail swishing anxiously.

“We need to do something about her infection,” he said in a low voice. “There’s no way we’re traveling in this state.”

Crowpaw’s ears twitched, hearing the real worry beneath Brambleclaw’s words. 

And if the infection gets worse, Tawnypelt could die.

“Squirrelpaw is looking for herbs now,” Stormfur meowed.

Stormfur’s tone was reassuring, but Brambleclaw just stiffened, shooting him a sharp glance.

“And, who’s idea was it exactly for Squirrelpaw to go off alone?” he asked, his amber gaze narrowing accusatively. “Why did no one wake me?”

“You needed the sleep,” Feathertail broke in, her voice a bit stern like she was speaking to a stubborn kit instead of a full-grown warrior. “Squirrelpaw wanted to find something to help Tawnypelt. She said that she remembered something her sister told her about treating rat bites.”

The speed of Brambleclaw’s lashing tail increased with his agitation. 

“Squirrelpaw is still only an apprentice!” he said, his attention whipping from Stormfur to Feathertail. “It’s dangerous for her to be wandering this unknown territory alone.”

Crowpaw rumbled an impatient growl, flexing his claws.

“This whole journey has been dangerous,” he snapped. “And, Squirrelpaw has been on it for over a moon. She’s probably seen so much on this hare-brained mission that it’s left her more well-trained than some warriors back in your camp. Just because you’re worried about your sister doesn’t mean that you get to also treat Squirrelpaw like she’s a kit.”

As Brambleclaw stared at Crowpaw, his eyes round with offense, Tawnypelt wheezed out a huff of amusement, and Brambleclaw shot her a betrayed glance. 

“Don’t laugh at that!” he snapped.

“Why not?” Tawnypelt asked with a shrug. “He’s right.”

Brambleclaw’s scowl deepened, his tail still flicking.

“Besides, you know how impossible it is to stop Squirrelpaw once she gets something in her head,” Stormfur added in a more mild tone.

Brambleclaw heaved a deep sigh, his tail finally stilling and his shoulders slouching in defeat. “...I know.”

“I do hope she’s back soon, though,” Feathertail said, shooting a glance towards the midmorning sky. “She left before dawn, so it’s been a while.”

“If she’s not back by sunhigh, we go look for her,” Brambleclaw decided, glancing sharply at everyone as if expecting an argument, but instead they all just nodded in agreement.

“Well no need for that,” Purdy spoke up suddenly, lifting his head from grooming his flanks. “I reckon that’s her now.”

Crowpaw’s gaze followed Purdy’s, and he easily picked out Squirrelpaw’s dark ginger fur in the undergrowth some distance away, glowing like a brand of red fire even with most of the sunlight hidden behind the clouds. As she pushed through a thick patch of ferns, Squirrelpaw lifted her bushy tail high in greeting, but she didn’t speak since her mouth was almost full to bursting with pale, spindly roots.

Squirrelpaw trotted up to the others, her paws so muddy that the white fur that marked one of them had turned completely brown. Even her chest and muzzle were splattered with it too, but her green eyes glowed with victory as she approached Tawnypelt and dropped all of the roots on the ground near her.

“Burdock root!” Squirrelpaw proclaimed, her tail curling up in pride. “It took me forever to find these. It was really far away, and there was only a small patch, so I dug up all of it. I hope some other poor cat doesn’t come along looking for it. But, I knew that I needed to get it because before we left, Leafpaw told me that this is the best herb for treating rat bites!”

Brambleclaw dipped his head, giving the roots a wary sniff.

“Are you sure this is right?” he asked, his brow furrowed in deep concern.

“Yes,” Squirrelpaw meowed without hesitation, but Brambleclaw’s uncertain expression didn’t change.

“But, I don’t remember Leafpaw mentioning it. We don’t want to use the wrong herb and accidentally make things worse,” he said. “I remember her saying something about marigold, tansy, juniper berries…”

“And burdock root,” Squirrelpaw insisted, meeting Brambleclaw’s eyes unflinchingly. “I remember it, Brambleclaw. You’ve gotta trust me.”

Brambleclaw still hesitated, and Squirrelpaw softened for a moment, dropping her voice low enough that Crowpaw only barely caught her words.

“And you know I would never do anything that might put Tawnypelt in danger,” she murmured.

Brambleclaw finally bowed his head, acquiescing. He touched his nose briefly to Tawnypelt’s ear before stepping aside, although he still watched her and Squirrelpaw with wide, worried eyes. Squirrelpaw wasted no more time in chewing up the roots and gently pressing the pulp onto Tawnypelt’s raw shoulder. Tawnypelt was still and stiff, but only a moment later she relaxed, letting out a long sigh.

“That’s much better,” she said. “It’s already going numb. I can’t feel the pain anymore.”

Purrs of relief rose up from everyone in the group, and Squirrelpaw’s eyes shone with happiness and pride. Feathertail padded over to Squirrelpaw, giving the smaller cat’s side a playful nudge.

“Are you sure you aren’t secretly a medicine cat?” Feathertail teased gently.

“Are you kidding me?! I’d never want to be stuck in a den all day instead of hunting and fighting!” Squirrelpaw purred, flicking her tail.

“But, it’s brilliant that you’ve been able to remember so much of what your sister told you,” Stormfur said, blinking at Squirrelpaw in admiration.

Squirrelpaw shrugged, giving her chest fur a self-conscious lick and cleaning out some of the mud.

“I guess I’m just good at memorizing stuff,” she murmured. “That’s not that special.”

Squirrelpaw’s gaze finally drifted over to Brambleclaw, who was watching her with glowing eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Squirrelpaw just dipped her head to him, but Crowpaw didn’t miss the fact that she also sat up a bit straighter.

Tawnypelt sighed again as she shifted position, moving from a sit to curling more comfortably up in her nest.

“If it’s alright, I’m going to rest some more,” she murmured. “I’m still exhausted.”

“You’re fighting off an infection, of course you’re tired,” Feathertail said with a reassuring purr.

“Rest as much as you want today,” Brambleclaw told Tawnypelt, giving her head a brisk lick before glancing at the others. “Maybe we can continue the journey tomorrow? If Tawnypelt is feeling up to it.”

Although Crowpaw’s paws itched to finally reach the sundrown-place, he knew that Tawnypelt needed time to heal. Everyone murmured their agreement with Brambleclaw, and Crowpaw added his assent to theirs. 

Purdy then rose to his paws, although it wasn’t to object to Brambleclaw’s suggestion.

“I’m very happy that Tawnypelt is feelin’ better. But, now I think I should return to the town. As crowded and crazy as it is, it’s my home,” he said.

Crowpaw blinked, surprising himself with the sudden jab of sadness he felt at Purdy departing. As annoying as the old tom might be sometimes, he’d gotten them out of the twoleg-place intact, and more than that, he’d helped Crowpaw realize how much he needed the others and reunited him with them. Even though he’d only known Purdy for a couple days, he’d still had such a big impact on him and their journey. If Crowpaw had never run into him by that fish pond, would he still be wandering the twoleg-place miserable and alone right now, trying to reach the sundrown-place all by himself? Would the rest of their group still be fragmented— Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw unable to find Brambleclaw, Stormfur, and Feathertail? 

Crowpaw’s stomach churned, his ear-tips warming slightly.

And, if I never rejoined the others, I wouldn’t have been able to realize how I feel about Feathertail.

“Besides, y’all don’t need me anymore. StarClan, whatever they might be, won’t be waitin’ for me at midnight,” Purdy continued with a glint in his eyes.

“Maybe not,” Brambleclaw conceded. “But, we’ll still miss you.”

“Yes,” Feathertail said, dipping her head to the elder. “You’ve been a huge help.”

Squirrelpaw, Tawnypelt, and Stormfur echoed her, meowing their thanks, which Purdy accepted with a gracious dip of his head. His pelt prickling self-consciously, Crowpaw padded up to the old tom, ducking his head close to his so that only Purdy could hear.

“Thank you… for everything,” Crowpaw murmured. “I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t run into you.”

The elder’s amber eyes twinkled. “Ah, you’d have figured it out. You knew the right thing to do— you just needed a friendly ear to listen. You’re a good cat, Crowpaw.” Purdy paused for a moment to mrrow in amusement. “Well, maybe you still need to work on your patience a bit, but I reckon you’ll make a mighty fine warrior regardless.”

His chest warming in sudden affection for the elder, Crowpaw dipped his head, and Purdy turned to glance at the others.

“I’ll hang around near the edge of the town for a few days,” he said to everyone. “Just in case y’all need some help finding your way on the way back.”

As the Clan cats called out their final goodbyes, Purdy padded off back towards the twoleg-place with his tail held high.

The next day, the swelling on Tawnypelt’s shoulder had gone down considerably. Squirrelpaw had applied a bit of burdock root to everyone else’s cuts too to stave off infection, and after a day of rest and eating their fill of prey from the forest, Crowpaw’s leg wounds finally no longer hurt. Instead, his limbs thrummed with energy, ready to continue on the journey, and his friends seemed to feel similarly. Everyone’s gazes were bright as they passed fresh-kill around, eating and purring as they chatted with each other. 

Crowpaw’s eyes drifted upwards. StarClan had finally blessed them with a clear day. Not a cloud was in sight as the morning sun rose over the twoleg-place behind him. Crowpaw turned away from the twoleg dens to gaze out in the opposite direction— towards where the sundrown-place should be.

How much longer until we get there? Only one day more? Two? Three?

Crowpaw’s claws flexed and his tail-tip twitched in anticipation. The longer this journey took, the more risk their Clans were in from this mysterious ‘great struggle.’ 

As if sensing his restlessness, Feathertail leaned a bit closer to him, draping her tail over his twitching one and stilling it. Crowpaw glanced towards her, meeting her bright eyes. A sudden purr rose in his throat, and although he managed to swallow most of it back, some low rumbling still snuck through.

“How are you feeling Tawnypelt?” Brambleclaw finally asked.

Tawnypelt was ravenously tearing into a squirrel as if she’d never tasted food before.

“Much better,” she purred. “That burdock root is a life-saver.”

Maybe literally, Crowpaw thought as he recalled how ill Tawnypelt had seemed only a day ago, but now that her fever had cleared up, she seemed much more her old self.

“Do you think you can travel?” Stormfur asked, his concerned gaze flickering over her still-raw shoulder wound.

Tawnypelt’s ears twitched.

“I must. We can’t delay anymore,” she said, a layer of urgency creeping into her tone. “We’ve already been gone from home for over a moon, and we don’t know how much longer it will be until we reach the sundrown-place. Who knows what’s been happening back in our Clans in the meantime...”

Brambleclaw shook his head.

“But, if you overdo it, you could make your wound worse and delay us more,” he argued, his brow furrowing. “If you’re not ready, we can take another day to rest.”

Tawnypelt met his gaze evenly.

“If I’m not ready or if I get worse again, I want you guys to go on without me,” she said in a firm voice.

Surprise jolted through Crowpaw, and the feeling seemed reflected back in everyone else as well, their ears jutting up in shock. Brambleclaw looked especially stunned.

“We’re not leaving you behind,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah! Has the infection reached your head and made you go mouse-brained?!” Squirrelpaw asked, her nose wrinkling up.

Tawnypelt shot Squirrelpaw an unamused look from narrowed green eyes before turning her attention back to Brambleclaw.

“You wouldn’t be ‘leaving me behind.’ You’d come get me on the way back.” Tawnypelt gave a huff of dry laughter. “Or, at least, I’d certainly hope you would.”

“But, you can’t stay here on your own,” Feathertail argued, her brow furrowed in displeasure at Tawnypelt’s suggestion.

“Yes, you can’t hunt or fight well in your current state!” Stormfur said. “It would be too dangerous.”

Tawnypelt flicked her tail impatiently.

“It would be better than me slowing you down and maybe putting the rest of our Clanmates at greater risk. Besides, I could just go back to the twoleg-place and find Purdy,” she pointed out. “He’d help me. I could—”

Crowpaw rumbled a growl, cutting Tawnypelt off, and she glanced over at him.

“You can’t stay behind,” he rumbled. “You wouldn’t let me leave the group, so there’s no way I’m letting you go either.”

Tawnypelt huffed, rolling her eyes. 

“You weren’t injured and physically incapable of continuing,” she pointed out. “This is totally different.”

Crowpaw shook his head stubbornly.

“‘Six cats started this journey together, and six cats are going to finish it,’” he said, echoing her words from the other day back at her.

Feathertail shot Crowpaw an approving look from glowing eyes.

“Crowpaw’s right,” she said. “We stick together.”

Stormfur nodded in agreement. “And take care of each other.”

“Especially if someone’s hurt,” Squirrelpaw added.

“No matter what,” Brambleclaw concluded in a rumble that left no more room for argument, locking Tawnypelt in his intent amber gaze.

Tawnypelt was silent for a moment more, but she finally sighed, shaking her head in defeat.

“You noble frog-brains,” she muttered, but she sounded almost affectionate. “Alright, let me finish this squirrel. Then I’ll haul my sorry tail out of this nest, and we can get going.”

It was late morning by the time they departed, but the clear sky gave them a good idea of which way the sun had risen, so Crowpaw wasn’t too concerned about them straying off path. Brambleclaw set the pace a bit slower than usual to accommodate Tawnypelt, although Crowpaw noticed that she limped along without complaint. Thankfully, her shoulder didn’t seem to be bothering her too much. Before they left, Squirrelpaw had also applied the remaining amount of burdock root to her wound, and the numbing properties of the herb seemed to ease her pain significantly.

The ground had a gentle upward slope under their paws as they continued on through the forest. But, by sunhigh, the trees had given way to fields of pale yellow grasses. Crowpaw’s muscles loosened slightly now that he no longer had the claustrophobic press of the canopy above his head, but beyond the openness of the rolling hills, little else here reminded him of his home on WindClan’s moors. No hint of rabbits or hares were in sight. In fact, there seemed to be very little prey or water around at all. The only possible options were these large, loud white-and-grey birds, but they were far out of reach. They wheeled in the sky high above them, their harsh, rhythmic cries reverberating in Crowpaw’s ears.

As they plodded on, Crowpaw found himself walking at the end of the patrol with Feathertail at his side, their flanks and tails exchanging gentle touches when no one else was paying attention. But, even the joy Crowpaw felt at her attention couldn’t entirely rescue his increasingly gloomy mood when the day turned to evening, and there was still no trace of the sundrown-place in sight.

Crowpaw narrowed his eyes against the bright glare of the setting sun directly in front of him and swiped his tongue over his lips. He hadn’t drank or eaten anything since the morning, and his mouth was starting to feel as dry as sand, bringing back unpleasant memories of the drought that had been in WindClan when he’d left. Were his Clanmates still suffering like this right now? Maybe Tawnypelt was right about them already being gone too long. Had they gotten too caught up in the ‘adventure’ of the journey? …Had Crowpaw gotten too distracted by Feathertail and forgotten the fact that the true purpose of this quest was to save the Clans?

Crowpaw shot a guilty glance over at Feathertail, but she was gazing forward, stubbornly continuing to the horizon and not looking at him.

How much suffering had his Clanmates been going through this past day while Crowpaw has been basking in Feathertail’s affection— something he shouldn’t even be thinking about doing since she was from RiverClan, not WindClan! How much longer should they keep going before they need to just cut their losses and return home?

“Do you think we should continue on for much longer today?” Stormfur spoke up, shooting a not-at-all subtle glance at Tawnypelt.

As the day had worn on, her limping had gotten worse, and she was now plodding along with her head and tail drooping.

“We should go as long as it’s still light out,” Tawnypelt muttered without looking up.

Feathertail nodded.

“Yeah. At least we know for sure we’re heading the right way now,” she added, squinting towards the sun.

“Yes, but how far do we still have to go? The sun-drown place could still be days away,” Brambleclaw meowed, evidently feeling similar doubts as Crowpaw.

“I told you all that this was a rabbit-brained quest,” Crowpaw murmured, but there was no real anger in his voice.

Stormfur’s brow furrowed deeply. 

“What do we do if we don’t find it soon?” he asked. As all the other cats turned to look at him, he went on, “When do we decide to go home? We can’t keep looking for the place forever.”

“But, we’ve come so far!” Squirrelpaw gasped, her eyes rounding. “We have to make it! Besides, StarClan wouldn’t send us on an impossible journey, right?”

Crowpaw’s tail swished uncertainly.

Who’s to say that us failing is StarClan’s fault? Maybe we’re to blame because we got lost in the twoleg-place. Or just weren’t walking fast enough…

No one tried to argue with Squirrelpaw, but it didn’t escape Crowpaw’s notice that no one agreed with her either. His eyes flickered over the others. Tawnypelt seemed too tired to care to speak. Brambleclaw’s brow was furrowed in brooding, pensive thought. Feathertail’s eyes were stubbornly locked on the horizon again. And, Stormfur looked deeply troubled, exchanging repeated glances from the way ahead, to Feathertail, and to everyone else.

Silence lapsed over the group again as they continued to plod on. Crowpaw drew a few tail-lengths away from Feathertail as Stormfur dropped back to walk at her other side.

“What do you think?” Stormfur asked his sister. 

His voice was low as if he intended it to only reach her ears, but Crowpaw was close enough that he still caught the words.

“What do I think about what?” Feathertail responded.

“About how much longer we go on,” he murmured.

Feathertail’s ears twitched as if knocking away a nagging fly. “As long as it takes to make it, of course.”

A frown drifted over Stormfur’s features, but when he spoke his voice was gentle. 

“You know I went on this journey for you as much as for StarClan,” he murmured. “But, we have a life waiting for us back home in RiverClan. Time has not stood still while we’ve been gone. We have to think about what we left behind. We can’t keep going forever.”

“But, we can’t just leave now!” Feathertail hissed, shooting her brother a sharp look. “We can’t disappoint Stonefur! And what about them— our friends!”

Feathertail swept her muzzle in an arc to indicate to everyone in their group, but Stormfur shook his head.

“Stonefur would understand,” he insisted in a low voice. “And, I like everyone here as much as the next cat, but our real friends are back home in RiverClan. I know it doesn’t always feel like it to you, but it’s the truth. And, we need to go back to them.”

Crowpaw felt a jolt of offense that Stormfur would dismiss him and the others so easily, but the feeling was quickly followed by a prickle of doubt. After all, could he really blame Stormfur when Crowpaw himself had been ready to leave the group too, only a couple of days ago?

But, that’s different! I was going to finish the journey to the sundrown-place on my own, not run back home!

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed.

But, should he really fault Stormfur for his loyalty to his Clanmates? Maybe Crowpaw could even use more of that, considering his feelings for Feathertail…

Crowpaw’s belly clenched. 

Feathertail… What would he do if she decided to leave with Stormfur? Could Crowpaw keep going without her? Could it be better this way— he knew his feelings for her were wrong; should they just end it now before it’s even really begun?

Feathertail released an only slightly muffled, wordless hiss in response to Stormfur’s suggestion.

“We can’t leave until we see this through!” she said in a fierce whisper. 

“But we—” Stormfur’s whisper-argument back to her was cut off by an excited yowl from Squirrelpaw.

She had bounded a bit ahead, her muzzle raised to the wind to take in the scents, but she whirled around to face the others with her pelt bristling in excitement.

“I smell salt!” she shouted.

For a moment, no cat said anything as her words sunk in, their disbelief palpable. But, then everyone’s mouths opened to drink in the breeze, and Crowpaw’s shoulder fur rose in shock as a salty tang settled on his tongue— exactly like the taste from his salt-water sign.

“It is salt,” Brambleclaw whispered, his amber eyes rounding. “We must be close!”

“Come on!” Squirrelpaw yowled, turning to charge up the hill, her bushy red tail streaming behind her like a beacon.

They all threw themselves forward after her, even Tawnypelt managing to hobble faster. Squirrelpaw’s discovery had filled Crowpaw with a new energy, and he allowed his long legs to eat up the ground, picking up speed until he had caught up to Squirrelpaw and outstripped her. He ran into the wind, the firm gusts almost lifting him from the ground until it felt like he could fly into the fiery sky like the cawing birds above him. 

Crowpaw squinted, the sunlight dazzling his eyes as he scoured the area ahead for any trace of the vast water Brambleclaw had described from his dream. But, as he crested the hill what he saw instead was the ground steeply give away to a sheer, terrifying drop. 

Crowpaw dug his paws into the earth, coming to a skidding stop a few fox-lengths from the edge. His pelt bristling and his chest heaving, partly from the run and partly from the fear of how close he got to the cliff, Crowpaw cast a glance back at his friends. Once he saw them all slowing, he released a breath of relief and turned his gaze back to the horizon.

Amazement washed over him as he properly took in the sight. The huge sandy cliffs in front of him dropped down for many tree-lengths to crashing waves at their base. Then the area in front of them was nothing but a surging expanse of dark blue water for as far as Crowpaw could see. It continued from the foot of the cliffs and to the horizon, where the sun dipped beneath it. 

The blazing orb sent shimmers of golden light rippling across the surface of the water, almost reaching out to the foot of the cliffs. All across the water and sky yellows blended into oranges, into reds, into purples, into blues. 

Crowpaw blinked, his eyes stinging, although he couldn’t tell if it was caused by the salty spray, the brisk breeze, or the relief and awe he felt at the sight.

“...We did it,” Squirrelpaw whispered, her voice finally pulling his gaze off of the horizon.

Crowpaw glanced over to see that his companions had all lined up next to him, standing side by side as they each stared out into the sunset. Feathertail pressed herself against Crowpaw’s flank, a loud purr rumbling in her chest. Stormfur’s mouth gaped open, and he looked too stunned to speak. Tawnypelt’s eyes were round, her expression one of shock and amazement. Brambleclaw’s legs trembled, although if it was from exhaustion, relief, or fear, Crowpaw couldn’t tell. And, finally Squirrelpaw, who stood the furthest from Crowpaw, stared out at the sun with blazing green eyes, brimming with wonder and hope. 

She also finally tore her gaze off the horizon, her eyes fluttering over everyone else before settling on Crowpaw. Crowpaw lifted his chin, a purr rising in his throat as their eyes met and hers crinkled, bright with victory.

“We found the sundrown-place,” Squirrelpaw said.

Chapter Text

Mothwing crouched in her nest, her paws tucked under her chest as she stared hard at nothing in particular on the reed-woven wall of the medicine cat’s den. The mid-morning camp was quiet, although Mothwing knew the borders would not be. As WindClan continued to press at the river, Leopardstar had approved an ambush, led by Hawkfrost, to lie in wait to attack any trespasser.

Mothwing sighed heavily, her tail swishing from side to side.

With every passing sunrise, tensions with WindClan just seemed to get worse, not better. And, the Gathering was less than a quarter moon away! Leopardstar had already stormed out from the last one early because Blackstar got under her fur— would she even be able to maintain the truce at all if things were this bad between RiverClan and WindClan? 

Mothwing’s mouth twisted into a scowl, her flicking tail picking up in speed. 

And, so much of this was caused by Hawkfrost lying about that dumb fish!

Mothwing closed her eyes for a moment, giving her head a small shake and releasing her anger with a sharp exhale.

As much as the fighting between WindClan and RiverClan bothered her, she was truthfully much more troubled by this conflict between her and her brother. It had been days since they’d last been able to have a civil conversation together, and she knew that their explosive argument at the river had hardly made anything better... How had things between them gotten so strained? He may have made a minnow-brained decision by lying about the fish, but he was still her brother and Mothwing still loved him.

Mothwing sighed to herself, her eyes flickering open and drifting down to her glossy jet-black stone where it sat only a whisker-length from the edge of her nest. She gently grabbed it, turning its cool, smooth surface over in her paws.

Oh Tadpole, what am I going to do with him?

Their brother would’ve known the right thing to say to get through to Hawkfrost. Tadpole had been the perfect bridge between them— strong and brave like Hawkfrost, but gentle and kind like Mothwing, and all he’d ever wanted was to make his family happy. That desire had caused them terrible grief when their misadventure into the twoleg-place as kits to reunite Sasha with her old housefolk had resulted in Tadpole’s death. But, Tadpole had also always been a source of warmth, comfort and amity with his ability to see from both Mothwing’s perspective and Hawkfrost’s.

After he died, Mothwing and Hawkfrost had to learn how to settle their disagreements without Tadpole’s influence. They weren’t perfect at it— not at all— but their combined determination to remain close as a family had been enough to smooth things over… at least until now.

Mothwing’s brow furrowed.

Could Hawkfrost have been right? Did me becoming a medicine cat permanently change things between us?

She gave her ears a sharp shake, knocking that thought away. Mothwing stared down at the glossy stone as if she could draw conviction from it.

No. That can’t be true. No matter what, we’re still family.

Mothwing’s eyes tracked from her stone to one of the newest pieces in her collection— her preserved lilac. The technique Mudfur had taught her worked and now the flower would exist for… forever, hopefully. Mothwing had recently taken it out from under the rock she had used to flatten and preserve it, but she hadn’t yet decided what she should do with it.

Mothwing trailed a paw over one of the purple flowers.

Maybe I can give it to Hawkfrost.

Even though Hawkfrost didn’t love collecting things like the rest of their Clanmates, surely he’d see the work she’d put into this flower, and how proud Mothwing was of it, and understand its value, right? Then he’d see how much she still cared about him, no matter their arguments.

The decision made, Mothwing carefully pulled the flower closer to her before returning the dark stone to its spot. But, her gaze lingered on the reflective black surface of the pebble for a moment more. 

Hopefully the flower and an apology would be enough to make things right between her and Hawkfrost again, but Mothwing wished she knew for sure. If only she’d been able to speak to Tadpole and ask his advice the last time she’d been at the Moonstone, instead of her just getting that frightening, frustrating, confusing dream again. What about that dream was so important that she had it twice out of the three times she’d been to the Moonstone, while she’d only gotten to speak to her brother once? 

Mothwing blinked, the memory of the dream surging over her so vividly that she almost could scent the blood in the air. But, then Mothwing blinked as she realized she wasn’t imagining the scent. The salty, iron tang of blood really was hanging in the air. Mothwing’s pelt prickled as she turned to the den’s entrance and Hawkfrost padded in, the white fur of his chest stained totally red.

“Great StarClan! Are you okay?!” Mothwing demanded, rushing towards Hawkfrost’s side and herding him into one of the patient nests that she and Mudfur kept ready-made.

She started nudging her muzzle into his dense fur, her pelt prickling with anxiety as she searched for some kind of large wound, but Hawkfrost just rumbled a deep chuckle.

“Relax! Most of the blood isn’t mine.”

Mothwing blinked, pulling back from him slightly as the sedges near the den rustled again and Mudfur came padding in right after a limping Blackclaw.

“These two look like they got the worst of it,” Mudfur reported. “But the scratches on Mosspelt, Reedpaw, and Swallowpaw could also use looking at.”

“Mostly scratches?” Mothwing asked, eyeing Hawkfrost’s blood soaked pelt. “Then the ambush went well?”

“It did,” Hawkfrost boasted, lifting his chin. “We taught those trespassing thieves a lesson.”

Mothwing’s tail-tip twitched uncertainly. Despite her wanting to end this argument with Hawkfrost, she still didn’t feel very comfortable about the fighting between RiverClan and WindClan, knowing that it had been started on his lie. But, since RiverClan had attacked WindClan in this ambush, that must mean that the WindClan patrol had actually trespassed and were planning on stealing… so maybe Hawkfrost had been right and everything had worked out okay in the end?

But then why could Mothwing still not escape this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling, hanging over her head like a building storm? The lingering memory of her dream wasn’t helping either, but she couldn’t dislodge it when every whiff of blood brought the images of red splattering across the ground and the pained screams of cats back to the front of her mind.

Mothwing met Hawkfrost’s gaze and arched a brow.

“Well if most of this blood isn’t yours, then what’s wrong with you?” she asked bluntly.

A faint scowl broke through Hawkfrost’s smug expression.

“Mudclaw knocked me to the ground, and I hit my head on a stone,” he complained. “But, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine when I say you’re fine,” Mudfur scolded Hawkfrost as he tended to Blackclaw’s bitten paw. “Head injuries are nothing to scoff at. I’d like to keep you here in the den for at least part of the day for observation.”

Hawkfrost’s bushy tail lashed irritably, but he didn’t protest.

“Let’s see your other scratches then,” Mothwing said, nodding towards Hawkfrost’s bloody coat. “Start grooming yourself, I won’t be able to find a thing with all this blood.”

As Hawkfrost began rasping his tongue through his fur, Mothwing turned to the herb storage, grabbing out more marigold for treatment. After chewing it slightly, she turned back to her brother and began to dab some of the poultice on the few scratches Hawkfrost did have.

Even though neither Mudfur nor Mothwing had asked for more details about the battle, Blackclaw started sharing anyway, describing how the RiverClan patrol had lied in wait and the way they’d jumped on the cats when the WindClan patrol crossed the border.

“WindClan out-numbered us, but Hawkfrost’s fighting was easily worth five WindClanners,” Blackclaw was saying, his orange eyes glinting appreciatively as he glanced at Hawkfrost. “Reedpaw is really shaping up to be an excellent fighter too. You’ve been training my son well.”

Hawkfrost dipped his head to the older warrior.

“That’s only because Leopardstar trained me so well first,” he meowed humbly. “She’s really the one to thank.”

Blackclaw nodded, rumbling a brief purr.

“She’s a fierce one. She could always beat up Skyheart in apprentice training even though my sister and I are a moon older than her.” Blackclaw’s eyes gleamed. “But, Leopardstar could never beat me, of course.”

“Of course,” Hawkfrost echoed with a purr.

Mothwing’s ears twitched as she listened to the easy banter between her brother and Blackclaw. It was almost strange how much respect Hawkfrost had gained from the stern and prickly senior warrior.

Is it all because Hawkfrost is so good at fighting?

Mothwing’s tail flicked bitterly.

If so, then there’s no chance of Blackclaw ever growing to respect me as well.

Once Mothwing finished with Hawkfrost’s cuts and Mudfur was done with Blackclaw’s, they padded out of the den with marigold and cobwebs to tend to Mosspelt, Reedpaw, and Swallowpaw’s wounds. Mudfur approached Mosspelt first, but had to wait a moment since the warrior was already talking to Leopardstar.

“The audacity of WindClan,” Leopardstar was snarling, her spotted fur bristling. “Tallstar will have a lot to explain at the Gathering.”

Mosspelt nodded. “They were very blatant about crossing the border. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if they were going there to hunt, not just to drink our water.”

Leopardstar gave her tail a decisive lash.

“Well now hopefully they’ve learned their lesson once and for all this time,” she growled with a derisive snort. “And, Tallstar walks around with his ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude, preaching ‘peace and honor’ when in reality, his Clan is nothing better than a band of thieving rogues. I should not have extended such mercy to cats with honor as stained as theirs.”

Mothwing’s tail-tip flicked uneasily, and she shot a glance out of the corner of her eyes towards Mistyfoot, who had come over to talk to Reedpaw. But, the deputy was either not listening, or she ignored Leopardstar’s comments.

Noticing Mudfur and Mothwing, Leopardstar padded off from the group with a final lash of her tail, finally allowing the medicine cats to patch up Mosspelt’s few scratches.

“Are you feeling alright?” Mudfur asked her, blinking at the warrior in concern once they had finished.

Mothwing’s brow furrowed. Why did Mudfur seem so worried? Mosspelt looked fine to her.

Mosspelt seemed to think the same thing because she flicked her ginger and black ears dismissively in response to Mudfur’s question.

“I’m not made of ice. I won’t melt or shatter from one fight,” she said.

Mudfur accepted this with a dip of his head, turning to Swallowpaw to begin treating her cuts, and Mothwing followed him.

“Why are you so worried about Mosspelt?” she muttered as they finished with Swallowpaw and finally turned to Reedpaw, who was still with Mistyfoot. “She’s barely hurt.”

“Mosspelt is expecting her second litter of kits, although she hasn’t told the Clan yet,” Mudfur whispered back, keeping his voice low so no one could overhear. “But, I anticipate that she will soon make an announcement and move to the nursery.”

Mothwing’s ears pricked in surprise. In addition to Mosspelt, Skyheart and Grasswhisker had their litters of course, and Dawnflower had just recently announced that she was expecting kits too. RiverClan’s nursery would soon be filled to the brim, which should be good news for any Clan. But, now that greenleaf was fading into leaf-fall, and the river levels were so low, and tensions with WindClan were at their highest in seasons…

Mothwing blinked her way out of her worried thoughts as they reached Reedpaw and Mistyfoot, and Mistyfoot dipped her head to Mudfur.

“I hope Hawkfrost and Blackclaw aren’t too injured?” she asked.

“I’d ask that you refrain from assigning them to any other patrols today,” Mudfur responded. “But, I’d expect that they can return to regular duties tomorrow.”

Mistyfoot nodded. “That’s good.”

Mudfur turned back to Reedpaw, dabbing some of the marigold poultice on a slash across the bridge of his nose. Reedpaw’s eyes narrowed as the juices stung, but he didn’t move his head at all. Mudfur nodded at him appreciatively.

“Your father said you fought excellently,” Mudfur purred once he’d finished with the marigold, and Mothwing stepped forward to place a small cobweb bandage on the wound.

Reedpaw blinked his large green eyes, his gaze flickering over to Mothwing.

“Did Hawkfrost say anything about it?” he asked.

Mothwing’s ears flicked. Hawkfrost hadn’t really commented on his apprentice’s fighting, but he hadn’t disagreed with Blackclaw when he’d praised him either.

“I’m sure he thinks you did well,” Mothwing said.

Reedpaw purred, his gaze brightening. “I’ve been practicing really hard— just like he showed me!”

“I’m sure you have,” Mothwing muttered, but for some reason, she couldn’t make her voice sound particularly excited.

Mistyfoot and Mudfur began to speak to each other in low tones. Mothwing couldn’t hear too much, but she could at least tell that they were concerned about WindClan, or maybe they were concerned about Leopardstar’s reaction to WindClan? Although Mothwing’s pelt itched with curiosity, Mistyfoot and Mudfur drew away to continue their conversation in a more secluded part of camp, and Mothwing, not wanting to eavesdrop, didn’t follow them.

Instead, she just returned to the medicine cat’s den, where she found that Blackclaw had left, leaving only Hawkfrost inside. He was now crouched in his nest, his blue eyes slitted and glinting faintly in the sunlight that streamed inside. Mothwing’s pelt prickled uncomfortably as she padded past him, feeling his eyes following her as she put the unused cobwebs back in the herb storage. She then glanced to the side and towards her own nest, her gaze settling on her lilac flower.

Maybe I should get it out of the way and apologize to him now. I just want to finally put an end to all this arguing.

“Hawkfrost…” Mothwing began slowly, turning back to him.

“What? Are you going to scold me some more for defending our Clan?” Hawkfrost responded, his tone sharp.

Mothwing stiffened as she shot him a glare, her eyes narrowing. Why did he have to be such a minnow-brain just when she was trying to apologize to him?!

“No,” Mothwing said tightly, her stiff tail held out straight behind her. “But, if I was, I don’t think disliking fighting shows a lack of care for the Clan. It shows the opposite, in fact, since I just don’t want you or any of our other Clanmates to get hurt.”

As she spoke, memories from her dream crept into her mind again, the dark images tugging at the edges of her thoughts.

Hawkfrost snorted, flipping his tail dismissively.

“Fine then,” he said in a clipped voice. “But, if that’s really the case, then you just keep your nose in your medicine cat business, and I’ll keep myself occupied with my warrior business. No more comments on ‘provoking’ fights.”

The long golden fur on Mothwing’s shoulders began to bristle defensively. Some part of her knew that she was still trying to apologize to her brother, but the other part of her was starting to lose track of that fact as his haughty tone clawed at the ends of her nerves.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for everyone,” Mothwing hissed in a low voice between her fangs. “I think… something bad is coming, and I just want you, and the rest of the Clan, to be safe!”

Hawkfrost’s brow furrowed.

“What? ‘Something bad?’ What does that mean?” he asked.

Mothwing shifted her weight from paw to paw, her ears twisting back as her troubling dream flooded over her again.

“I- I… I’m not supposed to talk about it,” she mumbled, lowering her eyes to the ground.

“What do you mean?!” Hawkfrost demanded, rising from his nest and striding over to her, his eyes blazing. “What do you know? Is it more things you saw WindClan doing on your trips to the Moonstone? Mothwing, you need to tell me if you know some kind of information that could endanger the Clan, like you did with the WindClan streams! It reeks of disloyalty if you keep it from me!”

“Keep your fur on!” Mothwing hissed, meeting Hawkfrost’s eyes with an equally harsh glare of her own. “It’s nothing like that!”

“Then what is it?” Hawkfrost pressed, his tail swishing with agitation.

Mothwing hesitated, her gaze darting towards the den’s entrance to make sure that they were truly alone.

“It’s a confusing dream I got at the Moonstone,” Mothwing muttered in a low voice, forcing Hawkfrost to lean in closer to hear her clearly. “The dream was just this blur of sights, scents and sounds. But, I’m not supposed to tell anyone about it until I understand what it means. Which I don’t, well… not really. But, I can at least tell that it’s something bad. I heard cats screaming, and I saw and smelt blood, and these roars and crashes…”

Mothwing searched Hawkfrost’s face, but she didn’t see the surprise or fear in his expression that she’d expected. Instead his brow was just slightly furrowed.

“I think it could have something to do with this fighting between WindClan and RiverClan,” Mothwing explained. “That’s partly why I’m so bothered by all this.”

Mothwing gazed at him, hopeful that he would finally start to understand her perspective. But, Hawkfrost just suddenly snorted, giving his head an incredulous shake.

“That’s really what’s got your tail tied in such a knot?!” he scoffed. “Some dumb dream?”

Mothwing’s fur started to bristle again, hot offense building in her.

“It’s not a ‘dumb dream,’” she retorted sharply. “It’s an important sign from StarClan!”

“And, you really believe that?” Hawkfrost asked, arching a brow.

Mothwing stared at him, her mouth falling open in shock for a moment.

“O- of course!” she stammered once she regained the ability to speak.

Hawkfrost shook his ears.

“I don’t,” he said curtly. “Even if StarClan does exist, I don’t think they have any power over us. Why would they even care about you and me? The kits of a ‘tyrant and a rogue?’”

“But they do care about us!” Mothwing protested in bewilderment, hardly believing her ears.

How can Hawkfrost say all this? 

“I mean, have you already forgotten my moth sign?!” Mothwing pointed her muzzle towards the den's wall, where the delicate moth wing was pinned.

Hawkfrost didn’t follow her gaze. He kept his eyes trained right on her face, giving a slow, lazy blink. But, then he seemed to come to some kind of silent decision, and he leaned forward, putting his mouth so close to ear, Mothwing could feel his warm breath stirring her ear fur.

“I made the moth sign,” he whispered.

Mothwing yanked her head back in shock, her muscles already tensing into knots. But, Hawkfrost couldn’t have said what she thought he said, right?

I… I must not have heard him correctly.

Hawkfrost turned and padded back to his nest, taking a seat and settling back down. Mothwing inhaled a slightly shaken breath.

“What?” she croaked out.

Hawkfrost stared at her, his expression almost bored.

“StarClan didn’t put that moth wing in front of Mudfur’s den,” Hawkfrost said. “I did.”

Mothwing shook her ears hard, her chest tightening like there was a badger standing on it. A loud buzzing noise started to fill her head.

“Wh- Why would you say that to me?” she stammered with a weak hiss, taking a hesitant step back from him. “That’s horrible… N- no. It can’t be true. You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Hawkfrost said, his eyes as bitter and cold as a leafbare storm. “I kept it— the moth I tore the wing from. If you need proof, I can get it. You can see how the torn edges match up. The whole Clan can see it.”

Mothwing just stared at him hard for a moment, the world spinning nauseatingly around her. Then her flanks started heaving up and down, her body gasping for breaths that couldn't seem to satisfy her. It was as if her head had suddenly been pushed beneath the surface, and now there was no more air around her— only icy, suffocating water.

“No. No. You couldn’t…” she muttered weakly, but there had been no hesitance in Hawkfrost’s voice or expression.

She instinctively recoiled another step back from him, her heart clenching and her ears pinning against her head. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to wake up from this nightmare. But, the feeling of the sandy floor of the den beneath her sweaty paw-pads didn’t fade into the cozy moss of her nest. This was real.

“...It’s all fake?” Mothwing rasped, her voice breaking over the words. “I was never meant to be a medicine cat after all? Hawk… Hawkfrost, why? Why did you do this to me?”

Mothwing heard a rustle as Hawkfrost shifted in the nest. When her eyes flickered open, she found him gazing at her with a furrowed brow. He seemed less certain than he’d been before, his ears angled back slightly, and the expression on his face might even have seemed apologetic.

“It’ll be okay, Moth,” he said in a low voice. “I did this to help you. I don’t know if StarClan exists. But if they do, would it be fair that you had to wait for a sign from prejudiced ancestors just to appease equally prejudiced Clanmates? If any Clan-born warrior wanted to be a medicine cat apprentice, the Clan would have allowed it, no questions asked.”

Mothwing’s ears flattened even lower against her skull. Some other time, she might have found Hawkfrost’s words, or even just his voice, soothing. But, right now it grated against her ears like gravel, sending another stab of pain through her.

If anyone finds out, everything will be ruined. I’ll lose everything— any respect and affection from Mistyfoot and Mudfur, my position as a medicine cat... Hawkfrost and I might even be exiled from the Clan, or worse!

Mothwing wanted to wail. So quickly, her entire life had been turned on its head. 

Almost in a daze, Mothwing turned towards the den’s exit and stumbled out into camp, blinking blearily in the sunlight. She pointed her paws towards the edge of the island and strode forward. She wasn’t sure of where she was going, but she was sure that she had to get as far away from here as she could right now.

The sedges behind her rustled as Hawkfrost came limping out after her.

“Mothwing, wait,” he said.

A jolt of rage and betrayal broke through her fog of numbness. Mothwing whirled on her brother, her fangs bared, her eyes stinging, and a massive lump forming in the back of her throat.

“Shut up! Shut up!” she snarled. “Haven’t you done enough?!”

Hawkfrost blinked his cool blue eyes at her, his face carefully arranged in a neutral expression. Mothwing’s ears flicked as she suddenly became aware of the fact that there were other cats out in camp, including Mistyfoot and Mudfur and plenty others… Clanmates that were now almost certainly watching them after her outburst.

Mothwing swallowed hard, trying to compose herself at least a tiny bit.

“Ju- just leave me alone,” she choked out, her voice thick.

With that, she spun around and shoved through the reeds, plunging into the river.

Chapter Text

Crowpaw blinked, finally shaking off the rest of his awe at the sight of the sundrown-place when Tawnypelt spoke.

“Now what do we do?” 

Their gazes were all pulled automatically to Brambleclaw— after all, he was the only one who had actually seen this place in his dream. But, Brambleclaw remained staring out at the horizon like he hadn’t heard them at all.

“Brambleclaw?” Tawnypelt prompted.

Brambleclaw blinked, giving his tabby coat a sharp shake as if knocking himself out of a trace.

“I um…” Brambleclaw said, blinking hard a few more times. “The other thing I saw in my dream was a cave at the foot of the cliffs, near the water. It had jagged rocks on the top and bottom like fangs. I think we should find it, and then wait for midnight.”

Feathertail blinked, shooting a concerned glance at the darkening sky.

“Well, if we want to find it tonight, we should move quickly before it gets too dark to see,” she said.

Brambleclaw nodded in curt agreement as Squirrelpaw crept towards the edge of the cliff to peer downwards, searching for the cave. Crowpaw’s pelt prickled in worry as he noticed the sandy soil crumbling at the precipice right next to Squirrelpaw’s forepaws.

“I can’t see anything from here,” Squirrelpaw said, not noticing the ground continuing to shift beneath her feet.

“Be very careful, Squirrelpaw,” Crowpaw murmured in response, keeping his voice low and calm even as his every muscle tensed as he readied himself to snatch her scruff if she started to slip. “The cliffs here seem unstable. Shift your weight onto your hindquarters and dig your back claws into the ground for grip before you step back.”

Squirrelpaw blinked in confusion, but did as he said. As soon as her forepaws moved away from the edge of the cliff, the area where she had been standing crumbled away, tumbling down towards the roaring water. But thankfully, Squirrelpaw stayed on the top of the cliff, now a safe few tail-lengths from the edge. Squirrelpaw and everyone else stared at the edge with wide eyes as Crowpaw heaved a sigh of relief, giving his fur a brisk shake to dislodge his lingering anxiety.

“...How did you know that?” Squirrelpaw asked, turning her huge, round gaze onto Crowpaw.

“Since the gorge back in WindClan territory is so dangerous, being able to tell what areas are stable and which are not is training every cat gets when they first become an apprentice,” Crowpaw said. “It’s really basic stuff.”

Crowpaw also suspected that WindClan’s knowledge of the earth came from their tunneling history, but he kept that information to himself. Even though WindClan had not tunneled in a generation, that part of their culture was still kept private from the other Clans.

“Wow,” Squirrelpaw breathed, her big eyes somehow stretching wider. “That’s so cool. You’ve gotta teach me.”

“But, we won’t be doing any more live demonstrations for now,” Brambleclaw broke in, shooting Squirrelpaw a pointed glance. “Let’s just keep a tail-length of distance from the edge at all times.”

Squirrelpaw rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Brambleclaw, but he ignored her, turning to nod at Crowpaw gratefully. “And, thank you, Crowpaw.”

“Yeah. If it weren’t for him, Squirrelpaw would have been crowfood,” Tawnypelt muttered.

Feathertail purred, shooting Crowpaw proud glance, and Crowpaw dipped his head, self-conscious at their praise.

Brambleclaw led the way along the cliff top. From time to time they stopped and very carefully peered over the edge to look for the cave, but there was nothing besides crashing waves at the bottom of the cliffs. 

Gradually the land sloped down until the water was only the height of a tree below them. The cliff top jutted out so they could not see the bottom, and the almost sheer surface was deeply scored with ancient runnels of rain. As the cliff grew less high, the cats scrabbled a little ways down and made their way along closer to the water, sometimes even within reach of a salty burst of a wave. Clefts, riven by ancient streams, split the rock, sometimes so wide that they had to leap over them, and the grass frequently gave way to hollows where a few twisted shrubs clung to the scant soil.

“There are plenty of places to shelter for the night if we don’t find the cave,” Stormfur said.

Crowpaw shot a glance towards the sky. Stormfur might be right that they should find a place to stop soon. The sun had sunk beneath the water by now, though great orange flares still streaked the sky. The air around Crowpaw was also growing colder, hinting at the approaching leaf-fall, and the temperature wasn’t helped by the spray dampening their pelts. 

“Maybe Tawnypelt can at least lie down, while we continue looking,” Brambleclaw said, shooting a glance over his shoulder.

His sister had slowed as they had padded on and now Tawnypelt dragged behind them by quite a bit. Feathertail nodded in agreement to Brambleclaw’s suggestion, casting a worried glance at the lagging ShadowClan warrior.

“Let me ask her,” Brambleclaw meowed.

Crowpaw watched as he turned, scrambling back over the cliffs. Brambleclaw was skirting the edge of one of the clefts when his paws suddenly slipped, the loose, sandy ground giving out from under him. Crowpaw stiffened in alarm as with a loud yowl, Brambleclaw started sliding into the hollow.

“Brambleclaw!” Stormfur shouted, lunging for him.

Before Crowpaw could even move, Stormfur had sprung into the hollow after Brambleclaw. Worry lurched in Crowpaw’s gut.

Both of them will fall right off the edge of the cliff! 

With Feathertail at his side, her pelt bristling in fear, they sprinted to the edge of the cleft they had fallen into, Squirrelpaw right behind them.

“Stormfur?! Brambleclaw?!” Feathertail cried, her eyes scouring the hollow beneath them as she tried to make sense of the cloud of dust, dirt, and sand, and the deep shadows that wreathed the crevasse.

With a wordless yowl, Squirrelpaw suddenly sprung in after Brambleclaw and Stormfur.

“No, Squirrelpaw!” Crowpaw hissed, swiping at her bushy tail with a paw to try to grab her, but it was no use— his claws only tugged out a couple of auburn hairs as she leapt by.

“Where are they?! What happened!” Tawnypelt gasped, hobbling to the edge of the cleft so that she could also peer down. 

The lumps in the darkness that Crowpaw suspected were his friends had now slid enough that they’d reached the place where the cleft met the cliff. Then they were gone, having slipped over the edge of the cliff proper.

Crowpaw turned away from the cleft to hurry to the edge of the cliff, Feathertail and Tawnypelt following him. He peered over just in time to see three shadowed lumps lying prone on the ground at the base. But, then a wave came in and the biggest lump— Brambleclaw presumably— was swept out into the water. 

Crowpaw’s fur rose in horror as he watched Brambleclaw’s head bobbing frantically between the waves, tossed around powerlessly back towards the cliffs before being tugged further out into the infinite stretch of water. Meanwhile, the others could do nothing but watch on, helpless.

“No!” Tawnypelt gasped as Brambleclaw’s head disappeared under the churning pitch-black surface.

But, then the smallest lump at the foot of the cliffs, Squirrelpaw, sprung into the water after him, diving beneath the waves.

“The frog-brain is going to get herself killed!” Tawnypelt hissed, digging her claws into the tough grass.

A chill ran down Crowpaw’s spine, and he couldn’t help but silently agree with Tawnypelt. Now not only would Brambleclaw be lost to them, but Squirrelpaw would be too. Although grief gripped Crowpaw in cold talons, he knocked the painful emotion away to try to focus for the moment on a more practical matter— what would they do with both representatives from ThunderClan gone? Could they still receive StarClan’s message or would this whole journey be for nothing?

But then, somehow, two heads breached the water’s surface again. Crowpaw stared at them, his heart swelling with hope as they were pushed back by the waves towards the shore.

Crowpaw saw Stormfur leap forward, splashing in to grab them. Together Stormfur and Squirrelpaw hauled Brambleclaw’s large, limp body out of the water, dragging him until he was out of the reach of the waves. 

Relief surged through Crowpaw as powerfully as a storm, and he looked to the side, his gaze scanning the cliff edge for a way down to his friends. Out of the darkness, he was just able to pick out a series of narrow ledges and clefts in a firm, rocky section of the wall that would allow them to climb down and back up again.

“This way,” Crowpaw muttered, leading the way in descending the cliff as Feathertail and Tawnypelt followed.

Perhaps worry for her brother spurned her on because, despite Tawnypelt’s wounded shoulder, she managed to make it to the foot of the cliff without slipping once. Once their paws hit the sandy, pebbly shore, they bounded over to the soaked forms of Squirrelpaw and Stormfur as the two huddled over Brambleclaw.

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur rose, but his unease wasn’t just because of worry for his friends— he’d also noticed the ominous cave in the cliff behind them. Like Brambleclaw had described, it was shaped like a massive, gaping mouth. Sharp teeth were closing down on them, and outlined in the remnants of red from the sunset, it was as if fresh blood dripped from its fangs. Crowpaw shuddered.

Why did StarClan send us all this way, just for half of us to almost drown getting to this creepy cave?!

Crowpaw forced his attention away from the cave and back to his friends when they reached the others. Stormfur and Squirrelpaw were hacking up water, but Brambleclaw was lying quite worryingly still on the ground.

“Brambleclaw? Brambleclaw!” Squirrelpaw gasped between her coughs, her eyes round with distress as she prodded at her Clanmate’s side with her paw.

With a brusqueness Crowpaw had never seen from Feathertail before, she pushed Squirrelpaw aside, dipping her head down to press her ear to Brambleclaw’s chest. An instant later, she pulled her head back up and firmly shoved both her forepaws against his chest once, and then again, and again. 

On the third push, Brambleclaw’s belly spasmed, and his body curved in on himself as he hacked water up from his lungs, his shoulders shaking from the effort. Immediately afterwards, he vomited up a stream of bile and water that he swallowed before collapsing again, although now his flanks rose and fell with breath once more. Feathertail gave a quiet sigh of relief, taking a step back and pressing herself against Stormfur’s flank to allow Squirrelpaw to crowd over Brambleclaw again, Tawnypelt joining her.

“Oh thank StarClan, I thought you were dead!” Squirrelpaw wailed, ducking her head to press her muzzle into Brambleclaw’s sodden shoulder fur.

“I’m not,” he rasped, one amber eye cracking open to stare at Squirrelpaw. “Thanks to you. You saved my life.”

“She took a huge risk. It’s harsh, but you’re not supposed to rescue a drowning victim if you’re not confident in your own abilities. It’s one of the first things we’re taught in RiverClan when we learn to swim,” Stormfur rumbled in a disapproving voice, but Crowpaw didn’t miss the relieved and impressed gleam in his eyes when he looked at Squirrelpaw. “But, it was also very brave of her too.”

Tawnypelt growled, her claws flexing in frustration. “Brave? We could have lost them both!”

Squirrelpaw sent her a fierce glance.

“But we didn’t!” she said between her lingering coughs.

Tawnypelt met Squirrelpaw’s stubborn gaze for a moment, but then she sighed in concession, her tail swishing. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just finding it hard to be injured and not able to help,” she muttered, shooting an impatient look back at her shoulder. “Like you, I thought we’d lost Brambleclaw for good.”

“I’m okay,” Brambleclaw murmured, blinking gently at his sister, then as if to prove it, he hauled himself to his paws.

He swayed, but only for a moment, his eyes flicking towards the toothy cave.

“Well at least we found the place,” he murmured. “Now we just have to wait until midnight, I suppose…”

Brambleclaw’s voice trailed off as from the darkness of the cave came a low scratching noise. Crowpaw’s pelt lifted along his spine as he stared into the utter blackness of the den. 

Was this it? Had StarClan finally come to deliver their message?

But, then a powerful, rank scent rushed out of the cave, surging over him. A lumbering shape shifted in the darkness, some parts as black as the shadows, but others streaked in white. The creature emerged into the dim, dying twilight, revealing a huge, wedge-shaped head and sharply intelligent jet-black eyes.

Badger!

Cold fear lurched in Crowpaw as his claws unsheathed and dug into the ground. Hissing loudly, he stalked forward to put himself between his water-logged friends and the vicious creature. Thankfully, it was a smaller badger, likely a female, but Crowpaw knew their group was far too exhausted to do much. 

Crowpaw risked taking his eyes off the badger for a moment to sweep his gaze over his companions. In normal circumstances a patrol of six cats should be able to handle a fight against one female badger, but not when three of them were half-drowned, and another one still recovering from a nasty wound, and all of them tired from their long journey. 

Honestly, he and Feathertail were the only cats here who were in decent shape, and that would hardly be a fair fight. Unless they could escape, they would all be crowfood.

Crowpaw silently cursed Brambleclaw’s idiocy. 

Why did he have to go and fall into the water and force Squirrelpaw and Stormfur to rescue him when Crowpaw explicitly told him that the cliffs were unstable?!

The badger swung her head from side to side, sweeping her gaze over each cat. Slowly, her mouth opened, revealing huge, bone-crunching white fangs. Crowpaw grimaced, bracing himself for the snapping jaws.

“Greetings. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Crowpaw’s ears jutted up, unable to believe what he’d just heard. For a beat, the cats all just stared at the badger, petrified in shock and fear, but then suddenly Squirrelpaw’s voice broke in.

“Did– did you just talk?” she gasped, still coughing slightly.

The badger’s head ever so slightly tilted to one side, and this time it was unmistakable when her lips moved. “Yes.”

“How can we understand you?” Squirrelpaw continued, her eyes round in fear and confusion.

The badger blinked.

“I speak many tongues. Cat is among them,” she responded.

Crowpaw glared at the badger, trying to anticipate her intent, but he quickly realized the badger’s face was hard to read with her beady eyes and large, oddly shaped muzzle and tiny ears. This badger wasn’t currently lunging for them at least, but StarClan knew how long it would be until she decided to stop toying with her prey and attack. Crowpaw couldn’t believe Squirrelpaw had so easily responded to the beast. No matter how weird it was that this was a talking badger— it was still a badger!

“Why have you been waiting for us?” Brambleclaw asked, his amber eyes wary from where he crouched on the sandy ground.

“I knew you were coming,” the badger responded simply.

Crowpaw kneaded his claws into the ground. That sounded a bit more than ominous to him.

“You’re… you’re not a normal badger, are you?” Stormfur asked, his eyes narrowing.

A low noise rumbled deep in the back of the badger’s throat. Crowpaw’s claws sank into the ground, bracing himself for the fight to finally break out. But, then he blinked in surprise as he realized the badger wasn’t growling at them, but rather, her dark eyes glimmered in amusement.

“No, little one,” the badger rumbled. “I’m not actually a badger at all. I’m a Watcher.”

Squirrelpaw cocked her head to the side and scrambled forward to stand by Crowpaw immediately in front of the badger, seemingly fully recovered from her brush with a watery grave.

“What’s that?” she asked, taking another pace closer to the beast.

Crowpaw’s fur bristled in warning.

The rabbit-brain is going to get eaten!

But, Crowpaw couldn’t stop a tiny part of himself from admiring Squirrelpaw’s boldness, even as he took a step nearer to her, readying himself to grab her and yank her out of the way if the badger lunged.

The badger shook her giant, wedge-shaped head.

“What I am matters far less than what I know,” she rumbled. “But, you may call me Midnight.”

Crowpaw froze as if his every muscle had turned to ice, a shiver running through his pelt. He exchanged wide-eyed glances with his companions, seeing his own thoughts reflected back at him in their eyes. 

‘Midnight?’ Did StarClan have us journey for over a moon just to meet this weird badger?!

Crowpaw swung his gaze back over to the badger and met Midnight’s small, dark eyes.

“Then what do you know?” he demanded, a growl in his voice as he finally addressed the beast.

Midnight’s eyes sparkled with amusement again.

“I like this one. Gets right to the point,” she rumbled. “Follow me.”

Midnight turned and lumbered into the cave of fangs, disappearing into the darkness of the sett.

Crowpaw and his companions exchanged an uneasy glance.

“Do we go in after her?” Stormfur asked in a loud whisper.

“I still don’t trust her,” Crowpaw growled, raking his claws nervously across the ground.

“But it’s worth hearing what she has to say,” Feathertail added. “StarClan sent us all this way… for her apparently.”

Crowpaw dipped his head in concession to her point.

“I’ve never heard of a badger that could speak to cats before,” Squirrelpaw muttered. “I suppose it’s not too much of a leap to think that if this badger is able to speak to us, maybe she’s been able to speak to StarClan too.”

“Then we’re in agreement we should go in?” Brambleclaw clarified, shooting a glance over at Tawnypelt since she hadn’t yet spoken.

Tawnypelt just sighed, holding her injured foreleg off of the ground.

“Whether the badger kills me out here or in there hardly matters to me,” she said blithely. “So I don’t care what we do, as long as I get to sit down.”

Crowpaw gave a wince of sympathy as he glanced over at Tawnypelt’s shoulder wound. It was still bothering her enough that the proud warrior didn’t even protest when Stormfur offered her his side to lean on. She just silently took it as the group padded into the sett after Midnight.

At first as the tunnel sloped upwards under his paws, Crowpaw could see nothing in the pitch darkness, but he felt sandy soil beneath him, rather than pebbles or rock. The comforting scents of his friends wreathed around him, although it was of course overlaid by the powerful reek of badger.

The tunnel then opened up into a larger, cozier cavern. Fresher air moved against Crowpaw’s fur, and at the far end a hole led into the open, to somewhere at the tops of the cliffs presumably. A faint silvery gleam filtered through it, telling Crowpaw that outside the moon was rising in the sky. By its light he saw that this cave had been dug out of the earth, with twisting roots entangled in the roof and the floor covered with a thick layer of moss and bracken.

Midnight was somewhere in the back of the cave, shuffling around in the shadows of her den.

“Tawnypelt, your leg is injured, hm? Rats?” Midnight asked without looking back at them.

“Yeah… How do you know that? And, my name?” Tawnypelt rasped, her eyes narrowing in equal parts suspicion and exhaustion.

“I know who you are,” Midnight responded, again answering without explaining anything as she continued to snuff around in the darkness. “You are the ones that shall shake the forest to its roots, and because of you, the Clans will never be the same.”

Crowpaw and his companions exchanged another uneasy glance.

“And that’s a… good thing, right?” Squirrelpaw meowed hesitantly.

A deep chuckle rumbled in Midnight’s throat.

“Well I suppose that’s up to you all, hm?” she responded.

Midnight turned, clumps of roots clamped in her jaws.

“Burdock!” Squirrelpaw meowed, her tail lifting in victory. “I knew it!”

“Yes, you’ve done well, little warrior,” Midnight said, sending Squirrelpaw an approving glance before turning to Tawnypelt. “May I?”

Tawnypelt gave a weary nod. With a surprising amount of dexterity and gentleness for her size, Midnight removed any of the haphazardly applied herbs that remained on Tawnypelt’s wound before reapplying fresh burdock root and cobwebs to bind them in place.

“Rest,” she insisted then, nodding Tawnypelt towards the bed of moss and bracken.

Crowpaw’s ears pricked in surprise as he realized that there were already six nests made up there. It seemed like Midnight really was expecting them.

Tawnypelt obeyed, stumbling over to one of the nests and sinking into it without a word. Midnight turned from her to gaze at the entire group.

“Now, I must tell you of the unpleasantness— the reason that your ancestors sent you to me,” Midnight said, and her already deep voice seemed to lower a note in graveness. “Your Clans… they must leave the forest. All cats must leave.”

Crowpaw saw the wave of confusion wash over his companions’ faces, their brows furrowing and their tails sweeping from side to side in agitation. Crowpaw was confused too, but he also felt a sting of outrage creeping into him. 

Who does this weird badger think she is?! She can’t just dictate what the Clans are supposed to do!

“That’s rabbit-brained,” Crowpaw snapped. “There have always been Clans in the forest.”

Midnight shook her head. “Not always. And no longer.”

Crowpaw rumbled a low growl, but he bit his tongue as Feathertail took a step forward, her eyes round with concern.

“But why?” she asked Midnight.

Midnight blinked at her and some sadness seemed to creep into her gaze.

“The forest will be destroyed,” she said. “Twolegs will come with machines— monsters is your word for them. They will uproot trees, shatter boulders… even the earth itself will be ripped to shreds. They will also shred any creatures in their way— including cats. The cats that survive the monsters will have no home left and no prey.”

Stunned, hollow silence filled the moonlit cave. Crowpaw’s ears flattened and his claws flexed in and out as he struggled with the dreadful vision the badger had summoned. He imagined the twoleg monsters— huge shining things in bright unnatural colors— roaring through the purple heather of the moors, barreling towards the gorse barrier of WindClan’s camp. He could almost hear the screams of his terrified Clanmates as they fled the path of destruction.

Everything in Crowpaw strained against what he had heard, but he also couldn’t find it in himself to reject Midnight’s words. Each syllable rang with a terrible truth. 

“...How can StarClan allow this?” Crowpaw muttered, finally breaking the silence.

“StarClan cannot stop it,” Midnight said.

Crowpaw’s stomach twisted nauseatingly. WindClan had always taught him to respect his warrior ancestors and their power. Their Clan was the Clan closest to the stars. WindClan may have faced suffering before, but they’d always had their warrior ancestors looking over them, guiding them... But this was something that even StarClan had no power over?

“No more Sunningrocks?” Squirrelpaw mewed in a small voice, sounding all at once very young. “No more training hollow? No more Fourtrees?”

Midnight shook her head sadly.

“That can’t be…” Stormfur muttered, his gaze round with horror, and Feathertail supportively pressed herself against his side, although she herself still looked too stunned to speak.

“But, it is not all despair,” Midnight rumbled, blinking over at them. “If the Clans leave, they may live. You will bring this message of hope and lead your Clans to a new home.”

“...How do you know all this?” Brambleclaw finally rasped, speaking up for the first time.

Crowpaw wondered if he was asking because he genuinely wanted to know, or if he was just searching for some sort of reason why it might not be true— that Midnight was wrong, and their home was not really going to be destroyed.

Midnight angled her huge head to the side, inspecting Brambleclaw with just one of her jet-black eyes.

“I am a Watcher. I know many things because I have seen them. I have watched the earth, the skies, the stars for eons and will continue to do so for eons more. I have seen the trembling off the ground. The razing of the trees. What I say will come to pass, if it has not already begun.” 

“I don’t understand! Why did StarClan have us journey all the way here just so you could tell us that the forest is being destroyed!” Tawnypelt burst out with a snarl, gripping the sandy ground in her claws. “We should’ve been at home instead! Helping our Clans!”

Crowpaw nodded in agreement with her, his muscles knotting with tension. 

“StarClan does not know everything, little one. They pass on prophecies, but often have little understanding of the meaning of the prophecies themselves,” Midnight rumbled, although she gave Tawnypelt a sympathetic blink of her dark eyes. “You had to hear this from me.”

Midnight turned from Tawnypelt to sweep her gaze over all of the cats.

“But, you did not just come here to hear me speak. You came because the journey is just as important as the words I share. You must learn, so the Clans can learn too from your example.”

Squirrelpaw shook her head.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice breathy and weak as if the news about the forest destruction had doused all of her normal fire. “This whole journey we faced so many dangers, and so much fighting with other things and with each other… How could that be as important as knowing that the forest will be destroyed?”

“Think, small warrior,” Midnight prompted gently.

She swept her gaze over the six cats. “When you left, you were divided. Not just in Clans, but in minds too. Now though… you arrive as one.”

She pointed her huge muzzle right at Brambleclaw. 

“Ambition,” Midnight rumbled, her breath stirring Brambleclaw’s dark tabby fur.

Brambleclaw blinked, a look of confusion and worry darkening his expression for a moment, but Midnight had already turned now to Squirrelpaw. 

“Determination.”

Squirrelpaw’s pelt rippled, and she lifted her chin, some sparks reigniting in her green eyes.

Midnight then glanced at Stormfur, meeting his steady gaze. 

“Loyalty.”

Stormfur blinked, his head dipping deferentially for a moment before Midnight turned to Tawnypelt.

“Wisdom.”

Despite the exhaustion etched into every part of her pelt, Tawnypelt still set her jaw, and Midnight’s gaze then drifted to Feathertail.

“Hope.”

Feathertail bowed her head, but Crowpaw didn’t miss the look of uncertainty that flashed in her eyes. 

Then, at last, Midnight turned to Crowpaw, looming over him, but her movement was almost gentle as she lowered her muzzle towards him.

“And love,” Midnight murmured, and her breath, which had an odd smell, like blistering fire and freezing ice, and fresh air and loamy earth, all together at once, rushed over Crowpaw.

Crowpaw’s pelt prickled at Midnight’s strange choice for him.

…Love?

His eyes flickered towards Feathertail for only a fraction of a heartbeat before he looked away, his heartbeat hammering louder in his ears.

“One of these things without the others has less use. Or it can even be harmful,” Midnight continued in a rumble, turning to gaze at all of them again. “Love without wisdom causes nothing but heartbreak. Determination without hope leads only to despair. And, ambition without loyalty is simply avarice.”

Midnight tilted her head, examining each of them closely while her voice softened. “Do you see now, my dear ones? Alone you are like a branch without a tree. Or a tail without a cat! But together…” 

Her dark eyes sparkled with light, as if her very gaze was filled with stars. 

“You too may last for eons.”

Silence fell over them again, but this time, instead of being laced with misery, it was introspective as Crowpaw and his companions all turned to gaze at each other. Crowpaw studied each of them, taking them in completely— from the patterns on their pelts to the shade of their eyes to the shape of their ears.

…How many times on this journey had they saved each other’s hides? 

Could they have really gotten here without Brambleclaw’s leadership guiding them forward? Tawnypelt’s cunning getting them out of tight spots of trouble? Stormfur’s steady, anchoring presence? Or, Squirrelpaw’s sheer, monumental stubbornness, urging them to keep going even when things got tough?

And, Crowpaw already knew for certain that they would not have made it without Feathertail, and her compassion and thoughtfulness which kept everyone from tearing each other’s fur out.

And… I hope I’ve helped too, somehow…

He met the eyes of his friends, and he saw their jaws set and their eyes brighten as they seemed to draw strength from each other. They looked ready to march back home to the Clans right now and start clawing up any twolegs or monsters that got in their way. And, Crowpaw knew he’d be right there, by their sides, the whole time.

Midnight is right. We really have become one.

Midnight nodded, as if understanding his thoughts.

“Yes,” she rumbled. “If the Clans can learn as you have, then they will survive.”

Chapter Text

Mothwing’s stomach still sloshed like she was going to be sick as her paws slowed near the bank of the river. Once she’d swam from the island camp to the mainland, she’d run as fast as her legs would carry her away from Hawkfrost without giving any thought to the direction. But, as her mind cleared enough to take in her surroundings, she found that her paws had taken her down the river parallel to ThunderClan. She was now close to the end of Clan land entirely— from across the river she could see the Treecut-place that marked the edge of ThunderClan territory, and in front of her was the small farm at the edge of RiverClan territory. After that, it was just the twoleg-place and then the unknown, unclaimed lands beyond.

Maybe I should just keep going. I could try to find Sasha… After all, what’s left for me in RiverClan now?

Mothwing shook her head, half-heartedly trying to dislodge the thought as a choked sob rose in her throat. Now that she had stopped running, her emotions no longer had a physical outlet, so they swept over her again as powerfully as a flood, drowning her in a river of misery.

How could Hawkfrost have done this to me?!

She wanted to yowl out to StarClan— ask them how they had allowed him to turn her life upside-down. But, she kept her jaws shut because she could already see the terrible truth staring her right in the face.

There is no real StarClan. Hawkfrost was right. 

Well, maybe they exist, but they don’t have any power here on earth. That’s why I never felt very connected to them, and, if they did have power, they would have stopped Hawkfrost from faking the sign. The other signs that the medicine cats see aren’t real omens. They are just reading into things because they want to see it. Just like the dreams that I had at the Moonstone! Those confusing dreams were confusing because they’re just normal dreams! And, that dream about Tadpole? Of course I’d dream about him in StarClan. It’d be the thing I’d want most to dream about…

Mothwing shuddered.

But, how was she supposed to go on like this? How could she keep being a medicine cat when it was all built on a lie? She still wanted to heal her Clanmates, but her Clanmates wouldn’t want her to help them if they knew her moth sign was fake. And, believing in StarClan was so important to the other medicine cats, to cats like Leafpaw. How could Mothwing really be a medicine cat when she now knew StarClan didn’t matter?

Leafpaw…

Mothwing’s gaze flickered across the river. A part of her desperately hoped that she’d somehow, miraculously, see the medicine cat apprentice padding out of the woods at this very moment— that she’d just so happen to be nearby. Although Mothwing didn’t yet know if she could confide in Leafpaw about everything that happened, Mothwing did at least know she could really use a friend right now.

Please StarClan. If you’re really listening, then send Leafpaw to me.

Mothwing’s ears jerked up in hope as a shape darted between the dark trunks on the far bank. But as the animal drew closer, she realized that the shape wasn’t feline. It was only a rabbit, running from something.

Her belly twisting with disappointment, she glanced away, mentally scolding herself for being so foolish as to think it could’ve been her friend, magically appearing when she needed her most. Mothwing was just about to turn aside when a rumbling filled her ears, quiet at first, but growing steadily louder.

Mothwing’s gaze flashed back over to ThunderClan territory. The rabbit wasn’t the only creature she saw fleeing through the woods now. Squirrels were darting for cover, flocks of birds flew from canopies with shrill calls, even a doe bounded through the undergrowth, her white tail raised in alarm. All the while, the rumbling grew louder and louder, until, over the rise in the Treecut-place, a patrol of the biggest monsters Mothwing had ever seen in her life emerged. 

Mothwing stared at them, her eyes stretching wide in confusion and horror.

What are those doing so far from a thunderpath?!

The monsters’ pelts were a harsh yellow, which was only accentuated by the sunlight dazzling off of their gleaming bodies despite the cloud of dust they threw up all around them. Their throaty roars grew and grew until it felt like Mothwing’s whole body was trembling with them despite her being all the way on the other bank. And, the massive monsters weren’t alone. Twolegs swarmed around them like ticks, yowling to each other. 

Mothwing crouched down low to the ground, her heart jumping up in her throat as she prayed that none of the twolegs or their monsters would glance over and notice her.

Stay on the other side of the river. Please stay on the other side of the river…

StarClan, or something, seemed to answer Mothwing’s plea. But not at all in the way she’d intended. 

The towering monsters turned, not towards her, but towards ThunderClan’s territory. Storming through the Treecut-place, they barreled right to the edge of the forest proper, their huge black paws crushing every piece of undergrowth in their path. Then the lead monster rammed its shoulder against a huge ash tree. Frozen with horror, Mothwing could do nothing but watch as the tree shook under the impact, and with a shriek like all the prey in the forest dying at once, its roots tore out of the earth. 

The tree tilted only a bit at first, as if trying desperately to fight back against the monster’s attack. But, it was clear it had been mortally wounded. 

Slowly, and then all at once, the tree toppled over, slamming to the ground with a thunderclap that reverberated down to Mothwing’s bones. 

Without hesitation, the monster rolled on to its next victim.