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Chapter Text

Fireheart had never felt more angry as he set his sister's kit gently between his paws.

His thoughts whirled as he sat in the light of the moon, waiting on Bluestar's judgement. She seemed content to sit above him on the meeting stump, simply watching him with bright, glittering eyes. He heard the rest of the clan gather, their discontent murmurs; couldn't help but notice that every cat in Thunderclan was present. And it sounded like everyone had something to say about the kit nestled at his belly.

His ears bent back angrily as one irritatingly familiar loud voice rose above the others.

"Of course it's the kittypet again. Another mouth to feed?! One layabout was more than enough! It's the middle of leaf-bare! I hope you're not expecting us to care for the kit, Fireheart! "

Darkstripe.

Fireheart felt his blood boil. He knew how the clan felt about him, and yet he still caught himself hoping that they had seen past this, that they could forget that he used to be a pet. Each time he was disappointed. A growl rose up in his throat as he felt the seasons of injustice flow through him, righteous indignation lighting like a flame. His fur bristled down his back, tail lashing in time with his breath. He whipped his head around, a snarl reverberating through his chest and marring his face when he found Darkstripe in the crowd.

Thunderclan fell silent, unhappy whispers halting completely at the uncharacteristic rage they saw on his face. Momentarily satisfied, Fireheart turned away, wanting more than anything for this meeting to be over. He was stressed out enough!

He bent over to inspect the small kit at his belly, hoping he didn't startle it with his sudden movement, but it seemed like it was more than comfortable, even pressing his face into Fireheart's soft fur. He gave the tiny thing a short purr and a nuzzle, then, finally, looked to Bluestar.

Her eyes were large, bare shock on her face.

Fireheart scoffed. His tail lashed. What, did she think he wasn't bothered by Thunderclan's scorn? All his life he's had to deal with it! Fireheart wasn't above feeling emotions! And dealing with this kind of situation was pressing on his already frayed nerves, and unearthing the long-buried thought that he had only been in this clan for only a few moons less than all of these other cats, how dare they-

"Who is this kit, Fireheart? Is it yours? How did you come by him?" Bluestar asked, expression now curious.

Fireheart jerked his head a little at the abrupt question.

He didn't like this. He hated this, actually.

(At least the time it took to walk back to Thunderclan had given him time to think; thankfully, he had a ready answer that hopefully didn't make him look worse in the eyes of the clan.

Why he still cared, he didn't know, but for the sake of the small kit at his belly he would try.)

"My sister's kit, Bluestar. Princess. She kitted a few days ago and is terrified of losing them all to the hu- twolegs. So she gave me this one to give to the clan, so she would know where at least one of them would be. And before any of you ask," he turned to face Thunderclan with a poisonous glare and a snarling maw. "Yes. I have a sister. And yes, I've been visiting her. She's the only family I have left, and I do not care what you think about it."

-

Bluestar let out a chuckle at her old apprentice's show of fierceness.

She may have lost her blind faith in the stars, but Fireheart, the kit she had trained and watched grow from such a tiny thing into her deputy? She would always cherish him, trust him.

She could trust his word, here, that he hadn't stolen such a tiny kit away from its mother. She could already see how protective he was of it as he sniped back and forth with Darkstripe, how he declared he would raise it as his own, and that just warmed her right down to her bones.

She watched Fireheart become more and more agitated as he argued, how he made to stand with his claws gripping the cold ground. How only the soft wail of his kit stopped him.

She watched, and she finally saw.

Her deputy looked..

Haggard. Fur unkept and sticking out in odd directions and dirty from snow and soil, Fireheart looked awful. She blinked and looked around, seeing her cats as if for the first time in a moon. How long had she been in her den, locked in that tempting haze of blissful denial? Long enough, it seemed- her clan looked close to collapsing. Warriors exhausted, nursing queens far too thin, elders stiff and tired and apprentices looking so very young.

(Bluestar blinked. Looked up at the moon. She took a deep, steadying breath and reached for her resolve. The resolve she had as a kit to be a warrior, the resolve as a warrior and deputy and leader to remain a Thunderclan cat to the end of her days, despite tragedy.

She would lead and protect these cats or die trying, she had sworn. It was time for her to remember it.

And maybe, for a moment, the moon shone a little brighter.)

She took one more breath.

"Enough!"

The clan silenced themselves.

She jumped down from the tree stump, fully intending to welcome Fireheart's new child to the clan.

What kind of leader would she be if she turned away a kit simply because it wasn't clan-born? She shook her head as she approached her deputy. Fireheart flinched; she stopped. His dirty paws fumbled to hide the kit from her. To hold it, close to his belly. As if she was going to harm it.

He met her gaze. His ever-expressive eyes were weary, wary. She kept her own steady, knowing he knew she would never hurt him, or his new kit. He just needed to remember, like she did. 

Silently, slowly, Fireheart moved away, allowing Bluestar to circle the blearily curious kit.

Nothing was obviously wrong, thank the moon. She called to the queens.

"Is there space in the nursery for one more? This one is definitely too small to be left alone long." Not waiting for an answer, she turned to her deputy. "What did you say his name was?"

Fireheart went tensely silent again. She noted his dark tail-tip flickering back and forth anxiously; needed time to think, then. She could wait for his answer, already eyeing the tiny scrap of fur snuggling back into her deputy's belly. 

Cute.

She glanced up after a long moment, watched him shift his weight. Finally, after what seemed like a stressful mental battle, he sighed, sounding defeated. He bent to nose at the kit's head.

"Princess called him Cloud. Please respect it."

She rolled her eyes in mild exasperation. As if she would change the name of an unknowing kit.

Brindleface then stepped out of the nursery, looking pleased.

"We can feed him, Bluestar. No trouble at all." She gave Fireheart a nod, then turned to talk quietly with Goldenflower.

Bluestar felt Fireheart sigh in relief next to her, though when she looked over he was sitting as tall as always. When she caught his eye he shifted slightly, but remained silent. 

"Bluestar, you cannot be serious! Another kittypet?! What will the other clans think? We've gone soft!" growled Darkstripe, unhappy as ever.

"If you say one more thing about me or my family I swear they won't ever find your-" Fireheart began, snarling and furious, but Bluestar cut him off. 

"Darkstripe. We are Thunderclan. The fiercest, strongest warriors in the forest. We bow to no one. We take in who We choose and We care for Our own. And We banish those who do not obey Our law. Are We clear?" She stared him down, daring him to disobey.

(Bluestar was unsure if she even should have stopped Fireheart, as he seemed ready to jump the other tabby, but the poor thing needed a break. He could defend his honor later, after he rested.)

Darkstripe finally settled down, easing up just a little; either due to the reminder of Tigerclaw or her own frozen glare. Or, perhaps, at Fireheart's very real threat.

"This argument is over, and Our statement is thus: the kit stays. Now, everyone to your duties. I know Fireheart gave you your orders yesterday, get to it!" Bluestar yowled, absolutely done with this meeting.

She hated to be so harsh, but needs must, sometimes.

She watched as Fireheart made his way toward the nursery with little Cloud, everyone else scrambling out of the way; suddenly finding places to be and things to do. She shook her head, snorting softly.

Deciding to wait for him, she settled for a quick wash, thinking of grabbing a few mice from the prey pile as an offering and apology for... Everything that has happened recently, she supposed.

Hopefully he'd forgive her.

Chapter Text

It was like a dam had broken inside of Fireheart, after that meeting. Freely expressing his displeasure at rude comments cats felt the need to give him apparently earned him basic respect. Or, at the very least, a healthy dose of caution. Fireheart saw the first effects of it a half-moon after bringing Cloud to the clan. Cats got out of his way when he was on a warpath, looking at him with respect and wariness in equal measure. After the very public showing of his (now imfamous among Thunderclan) temper and willingness to defend his nephew at any costs, cats majorly left him alone. He wanted to be annoyed by this, but some part of him preened at the thought that they were finally taking him seriously.

Fireheart had gone on more solo hunts, after that unfortunately memorable meeting. He didn't want to be around his clan save for giving them patrol duties and delegating hunting spots. He also had the surprisingly enjoyable task of providing for Brindleface and her other kits, who he was eternally grateful to for taking in his small nephew. He puzzled over how strongly he felt about the white kit, but he supposed it wasn't that strange, that feeling. He felt the same way about Bluestar and Yellowfang and Whitestorm, after all. He saw Brindleface quite a bit, now. They got along well and had similar opinions on inter-clan politics. As he made his way through the snow-laden undergrowth, he briefly wondered why he hadn't gotten to know many of the older warriors in camp. A distant hurt coursed through him as he remembered that a lot of them hadn't welcomed him with open paws when he first arrived, and hadn't made the effort to kindle any kind of relationships with him since. He deliberately turned his thoughts to Whitestorm, who had ever been a steady, reassuring presence since his apprenticeship. He made a mental note to see him as soon as they were both available, shaking a damp paw.

Fireheart made his way to Thunderclan's camp, having been hunting since late-sun with minimal rewards. Snow had never been one of Fireheart's favorite things, but given his simmering distaste for his clanmates and their pettiness, he used it as an excuse to be out of camp for longer than usual in search of food. He had made a few decent catches, but he hasn't felt full since seasons ago and he's starting to wonder if they shouldn't learn to hunt fish in the stream near the training clearing. He shook his head to clear it, annoyed with himself for spacing out for so long when he had food to carry and a kit to see.

Picking up the pace, Fireheart arrived in camp at near sundown, and his paws felt frozen. He caught the eye of a few warriors lounging by their shared den, nodding when they didn't seem to have need of him this early in the evening. He deposited most of his catch and made his way over to the nursery with a decent-sized squirrel. He and Brindleface equally preferred them to voles. They shared food more often than not, simply because Fireheart liked being around Cloud and she didn't seem to mind his presence. Fireheart pushed his way quietly into the nursery, in case anyone was still asleep. He heard soft mewling cries and saw movement in the low light as he lowered his head to peer into the den. He stopped, not wanting to intrude if he wasn't allowed, but heard a familiar low voice call him in. He squeezed all the way into the den and presented the squirrel to Brindleface before surveying the kits at her belly. Fireheart felt a surge of happiness at seeing little Cloud fetched up against his friend's belly. His white kit was a bit smaller than the mottled gray siblings, but not by much. He was growing so fast! His purring made Brindleface look up from her meal, dark eyes smiling. 

"Come here, Fireheart, come. You've been hunting a while, haven't you? You look half-frozen! Feel free to stay in here for a while, I'm sure Bluestar and Whitestorm can handle anything that comes up. Have you eaten anything yet?" she questioned, pusing the rest of the squirrel towards his still-cold paws. "As thanks, of course. Feel free to eat the rest, I'll go hunting in a bit, stretch my legs. You would not believe how boring it is, laying about like some hibernating bear!"

Fireheart shook his head fondly at her good-natured complaining, stifling a shiver as he started to (finally!) warm up. He settled down next to his friend and began to eat slowly, trying to savor the meal as long as he could. They sat together in silence save for the hushed cries of the kits, and Fireheart felt himself finally relax. He didn't realize how tense he had been until Brindleface pushed him over easily to lay on his side as she and Goldenflower (when did she get up?) tried to smother him with their thick fur. He laughed, pushing them away half-heartedly, but the bigger warriors kept him pinned. He sighed with fake exasperation before succumbing to his friends' warmth and concern. He loved being in the nursery, he mused. It was quiet, for the most part, and more importantly, it was warm. His den, by comparison, felt empty and cold. Idly he wondered if Bluestar and Whitestorm wouldn't mind him sleeping with them, or the kit-den every once in a while. Goldenflower started to groom the back of his neck, Brindleface his exposed flank. He barely noticed as he fell asleep, their collective purring a comforting lullaby. 
_____________________________________________________________________

Fireheart woke at moon rise, feeling much more rested than he usually was. He blinked though the drowsiness slowly, wanting to relish the sleepwarm haze. A loud, slightly muffled yowl startled him badly out of his place next to an amused Goldenflower. She had heard the call as well, already standing. They left the den together, Brindleface taking up the rear. Fireheart stumbled a little as the two larger warriors nudged him forward, nodding toward Bluestar at the center of the camp. He was grateful for the support his friends so freely gave. His thoughts dissipated like morning mist as they joined the clan, Fireheart sitting beside Bluestar whose tail was slightly poofed out.

"Thunderclan," Bluestar began, tapping her tail on her paws, "I have recieved word from Shadowclan that they have found Tigerclaw's body near the Thunderpath." She paused to let the clan absorb the news. It was eerily quiet. Fireheart could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Tigerclaw, dead? It seemed impossible.

Bluestar took a breath. "I sent Runningwind and Frostfur to investigate, of course, and they reported that Shadowclan is truthful. I will ask this of you, my warriors- do you want to recover his body? Do you wish to see the traitor put to rest at last?" Her eyes glittered dangerously, Fireheart noted. He knew he looked just as menacing, feeling his fur bristle and a snarl marring his face. He wanted nothing to do with Tigerclaw, not after his betrayal. Never again, Fireheart had sworn to the stars the night after his exile, never again would Tigerclaw hurt anyone after what he had done. And now he wouldn't. It was a relief, but part of Fireheart wished he could fight the tabby once more, to see him regret every awful decision he'd made. He faintly heard his clanmates muttering to each other, unease rippling through them like a gentle wave.

"I know this has been an awful few moons with... everything going on, and I feel it is time for us to look to the future once more. I suggest we move him out of our territory and wash our paws for goood. Does anyone object?" Bluestar asked calmly, settling her clan's anxiety with the ease of long practice.

Yellowfang caught his eye from her spot near the healer den, subtly shaking her head. Fireheart forcibly calmed himself, not looking at the rest of the clan. Regardless of his opinion to let the traitor's body rot into dust by the road, he wasn't the only one affected by Tigerclaw's poor decisions. He took a steadying breath, hearing Dustpelt, Sandstorm and Goldenflower volunteer to retrieve the body to bury along the human houses. That was a surprise, but Fireheart studied Bluestar. He saw satisfaction, and... grief? He could understand that, at the very least. Tigerclaw used to be an amazing warrior, someone he had looked up to. However. Tigerclaw had hurt so many cats, threatened cats he loved, and Fireheart felt no remorse for feeling nothing but darkly amused at the irony.

He watched the meeting break up with Bluestar as she settled beside him to groom his head. He stared at his paws briefly before getting to her flank, glad that the closeness they'd had as a pair hadnt deserted them entirely as Fireheart had gotten older. He had missed his mentor. Before long, their fur was clean and Fireheart had finally found his calm. He vaguely wondered what happened to his control over his emotions; he was quick to anger nowadays, the dam broken. The rest of the clan could take it; the only one he was worried about hurting was little Cloud, and that was only because he was young enough to think Fireheart would be angry at him. He snorted at the thought- how could he be angry at the little fluff? The kit already had Fireheart's love, if only because he was family.

Bluestar nudged him out of his thoughts, looking slightly amused but mostly exasperated. Had she called his name? Oops.

"Fireheart, I was thinking about Brindleface's kits. You've been to see them more than I have. Which do you think would be a good apprentice for Sandstorm and Dustpelt?" she hesitated for a heartbeat before continuing, "and for myself. I know they're still young, and Goldenflower will kit soon, but I would like to make a decision before-paw."

Fireheart blinked. He thought for a bit, studying his clean white paws. Bluestar waited patiently, more intent on getting a burr from between her claws than staring at his face. He appreciated that; he never liked being stared at when thinking. It made him forget important things, and made him feel too pressured. He thought about the kits' personalities, when they were awake. Fernkit was more adventurous, with Cloud and Ashkit following behind. Ashkit had a more thoughtful nature, while Cloud was more reserved. He weighed the options with mentors, and nodded.

"Fernkit for you. Cloud for Sandstorm. And Ashkit for Dustpelt. You all might balance each other out," Fireheart murmured. He thought for another long moment. "Goldenflower's kits might be best for more mature warriors, in the case they look like Tigerclaw. Maybe Runningwind, Whitestorm, or Mousefur. I would offer, but I don't know with Cinderpaw..." he looked over to the healer den, spotting Cinderpaw limp out of it with a mouth full of juniper stalks with dried berries on them. She didn't look unhappy, helping Yellowfang. He hoped she was feeling alright, waiting so long to heal. Stars above knew he adored Yellowfang, but she was a cantankerous badger on a good day. He wanted them to at least get along. He sighed, pensive, before turning back to Bluestar. 

She had a calculating gleam in her eyes. Fireheart knew that look, and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. Bluestar made herself look innocent, widening her eyes and lowering her head. Fireheart playfully growled before jumping up and pouncing on his old mentor. She let out a loud yowl of laughter before cuffing his head and biting at his scruff. He threw himself off of her before lauching a new attack, this time landing square on her shoulders. They rolled, laughing, toward the edge of camp. Bluestar ended up on top, somehow, and Fireheart let out an "oof" as all of her weight slammed him onto his belly. 

"I give up! Ugh. How do you always end up on top? I couldn't figure it out as an apprentice and never thought to ask then," Fireheart puffed for breath as Bluestar settled more comfortably on top of him. Why did all of his friends want to squash him? He lamented his put-upon woe to the stars.

"I'm just that good, Fireheart," she replied smugly. Fireheart sighed again. He glanced around, seeing some of his clanmates gape at the two of them. Inwardly, he scoffed. Did they all forget that he was Bluestar's apprentice? Or maybe it was the shift from such a serious atmosphere to playful that they were surprised by? It didn't matter to him, he insisted. He dragged himself out of his negative thoughts, fine with being squished by his leader.

"Fireheart?" Bluestar absently called. He looked up at her and softened. She looked at ease. Content for the first time in a while.

"Yes, Bluestar?"

"I think we're going to be okay."

Chapter Text

Fireheart wandered along the shared border between Thunderclan and Riverclan with Goldenflower and Brindleface. The three had gotten quite close over the past moon and a half, and with the kits a bit older Brindleface felt more comfortable leaving them on their own for longer. Fireheart's goal was to find herbs for Yellowfang, as thanks for being her usual self, and his two friends decided to tag along as a makeshift gathering team. None of them were very interested in doing much but enjoying the early evening; their kits had woken them all up with their loud shrieks and there was no going back to sleep after that, to their aggravation.

"Do you know what other herbs Yellowfang needs the most, Fireheart?" Goldenflower asked, stepping not-so delicately over a clump of snow. "I was thinking, she always seems to need catmint and watermint, but I can't remember what watermint looks like when it's not already a mush, you know? I don't want to come back with nothing..."

Brindleface paused from where she had somehow stuck her whole head into a snow-covered bush, springing back with white dusting her face like an old crone. Shaking her head free of snow with a loud snort, she batted at the bush like it offended her. With a satisfied nod, Brindleface turned back to her friends, twitching a back foot compulsively.

"Can we even find anything still living in this cold? Sometimes I want to sleep just like the trees, 'til the prey comes back. Oh, but I really hate being forced to be still, that probably wouldn't be fun..." she muttered, ignoring her companions as they lightly laughed at her antics. Fluffing out her fur in mock indignation, Brindleface pushed ahead of the giggling pair further toward the river. "Watermint might be over here, Goldie! By the river rocks, do you think?"

"Yellowfang says, it looks like regular mint but it's got pokey purple flowers and the leaves have darker bellies- how we're supposed to find it in the dead of snow-fall I have no idea," Fireheart grumbled to Goldenflower. Yellowfang wasn't above messing with him, after all. He scented around, looking for catmint specifically, since he actually knew what that looked like, thank you Yellowfang. Nudging Goldenflower to go with her, he took up the lead along the border, sniffing every now and then while keeping an ear out for his friends as they played about on the river shore.

Fireheart wasn't the most comfortable being this close to the sunning rocks; Riverclan nonwithstanding, his experiences there had always been marred by some kind of tragedy. His fur bristled at the barest idea of his... former friend. He shook his fur out roughly, putting it behind him. Scanning the undergrowth once more, he finally found a clump of catmint nestled under a snow-heavy bush.

"Guys! I found some catmint, finally. Did you find anything?" he called to his friends. His ears picked up muffled laughs and scattering stones as the two cats raced towards him. His mouth full of leaves, he turned to see- what.

Goldenflower had somehow gotten snow all over her fur, the damp making it stick up every which way; Brindleface had a mouthful of watermint stalks, soil still trailing wetly from the roots, mud up to her face, what in the stars' name happened over there?!

Fireheart stood there, blankly staring, and the two cats before him broke down in laughter at the "look on your face, Fireheart!"

He sighed with fond exasperation. He couldn't take these two anywhere together, honestly. Setting his leaf packet down carefully, he huffed at them. "You know who's gonna have to clean your fur, Brindleface? You know who's gonna make the den super cold with her fur becoming one with the snow, Goldenflower? Honestly, you two." He crouched low, eyes dilating and tail flicking as he enticed them to pounce.

Goldenflower was the first to take the bait, leaping at him joyfully, large paws batting his face, her teeth carefully shielded as she bit him playfully. Brindleface took advantage of their distraction, gleefully getting the other two as dirty as possible with her soil-caked belly as she flopped over the both of them. Goldenflower took offense to this- at least her fur wasn't filthy before! Fireheart, easily the smallest of them, was jostled round as his friends had a mock-battle over his body, claiming his corpse as the final prize. 

With one humongous heave, Brindleface managed to throw Goldenflower off her feet, earning her the victory. Crowing her win, she picked up her watermint loftily, fluffy tail held high. She stopped next to Fireheart's rotten corpse, batting his face with a paw in mirth. Goldenflower snorted with humor as he groaned like the dying.

"C'mon you lump, we found what we needed. Give these to our illustrious healer, eat some prey, wash our pelts- sound like a plan?" 

Fireheart groaned out a put-apon sigh. "I guess. If that is what the Queens of Snow and Mud want, what am I but a helpless-" Goldenflower cut him off with a shove, snorting loudly. He stood to shake out his fur, grabbing his leaf packet from near his belly with a laugh. He gestured with a magnanimous paw, graciously allowing Goldenflower to take the lead.

"Why thank you, dear," she grinned at him. Her tail flicked happily. Brindleface brushed up against her, then Fireheart, purring lowly. Fireheart himself was nearly overcome with love for his friends as they made their way back to camp.

He wouldn't give this up for the world.

Chapter Text

Fireheart edged into the Thunderclan camp warily, a rabbit clenched in his jaw like it could hop into another cat's maw if he so much as loosened his grip. This prey was for his apprentice and his apprentice only; he would actually fight someone if they tried to take it from him.

"Hey, Fireheart!" Cinderpaw called to him from the healer den entrance. Her tail was flipping happily as she groomed her flank, only pausing long enough to catch his eye.

Fireheart hurried over to her with a high tail and a rumbling purr. It was nice to see her in high spirits; healing from an injury like hers took a lot of energy, and he didn't blame her for low moods or snappishness. It was simply good to see her feeling alright.

He set the rabbit in front of her, watching for her reaction avidly. Cinderpaw wasn't a picky eater by any means, especially not in the middle of snow-fall, but when she had the choice, when someone was hunting for her? She judged like she ruled over the land, the stars under her command.

With rabbit being her favorite, Cinderpaw was less likely to snub it. If she did, Fireheart would have to find something else for her. Though they both knew prey was short and none of them could afford to not eat, it was a fun game they played, with the bonus of giving Fireheart a valid excuse to not be in the camp.

He was still sore with the rest of Thunderclan (with obvious exceptions), willingly going on more patrols and hunts than anyone else simply to not have to interact with them beyond giving orders.

(He tried not to feel lonely, he really did. His friends, his kit, his leader- they all helped. But Thunderclan was hardly welcoming at their best moments, and he would never forget that.)

Cinderpaw brought him out of his thoughts with a pleased purr as she tore into the rabbit with gusto. Apparently it met with her high standards, whatever she decided they were. Had she not wanted it, Goldenflower was his next choice.

Fireheart sat, finally with a chance to groom his fur. With all the snow lately he hadn't wanted to- nothing worse than damp fur and wind chill, in his opinion. But with the sun still out and vaguely warm, it was the best opportunity.

"So, how have you been?" Cinderpaw spoke around a mouthful. "Feels like I haven't seen you in a moon! I'd thought you'd died and forgot to tell me, swear."

"I saw you the other day, you cheeky kit," Fireheart lightly scolded. He tugged a burr out of his shoulder fur, quickly grooming it flat.

"Yeah, and?" Bones crunched in his ears. "Tell me anyway, c'mon, c'mon c'mon-"

"Ugh, you're terrible." He flopped on his side dramatically, waving a paw. "I've been fine, Cinderpaw, really." 

"You don't sound fine," she muttered under her breath.

"Apprentice Cinderpaw, how very dare you!" He sniffed, overly formal. "I'll have you know deputyship is quite taxing on a cat! I haven't the time for even sleep!"

He took a glance, catching her smirk. Fireheart snorted, his pompous act utterly failing at hiding his laughter. It warmed his heart, making Cinderpaw laugh with his dramatics.

"Well then, Deputy Leader Fireheart, as acting healer apprentice, I forbid any kind of work," she matched his play act, note for note. "Surely a cat as busy as you, with as many responsibilities as you, could find another cat to, I don't know, delegate to? Hmm?" 

Fireheart laughed openly. Cinderpaw's smirk widened into a tooth-baring smile, kind and threatening all at once.

Fireheart shook his head fondly, eyes trailing toward the mostly empty camp. After a moment, he sighed lightly.

"I already do that, you know," he said quietly.

Cinderpaw heaved a sigh of her own, shoving the remains of her rabbit away with a paw before getting up. Fireheart looked at her, puzzled. What was that look in her eye- oh.

From underneath his honestly-too-large apprentice, Fireheart blew out an exasperated breath. Seriously, why did all of his friends want to squish him? He wasn't that small, was he? Maybe he was just cursed to make friends with giant cats. Surely.

Cinderpaw shifted so her leg wasn't taking her weight, just Fireheart, and laughed at his pain.

"I know you do, mousebrain. We just worry, is all. Yellowfang sure won't stop until she's dead, and even then, she'll probably haunt you."

Fireheart took that for the warning it was.

"Take more breaks if you need to!" Cinderpaw continued, impassioned. "I know you feel like you have to do everything yourself, since I can't help yet, but you have to stop every now and then or you'll burn out like a forest on fire!"

She paused, taking in his stillness, his controlled breathing. 

"Fireheart."

"What."

"Fireheart."

"What."

She jabbed him viciously with an elbow, making him yelp.

"It's okay to relax, you know. Dog-brain."

"You don't have to insult me every time you give advice, you know," Fireheart grouched, loosening his posture.

"I learned from the best," Cinderpaw tossed her head loftily, meaning Yellowfang, of course.

"She where you learned sass too?" He rolled his eyes. Cinderpaw jabbed him again in retribution.

"Course, didn't you?" Her voice was innocent, the liar.

Fireheart huffed a reluctant laugh, ceding the point. He tiled his head up to meet Cinderpaw's dark eyes. 

"I'm fine, Cinderpaw."

A disbelieving snort.

"I will be fine."

"That's better."

"Could you maybe get off now? You're heavy," Fireheart groaned.

"No way! You're so comfy!" She immediately refused, somehow settling even more firmly. "Plus, all those times you told me to 'slow down, Cinderpaw! Stop running around like a baby chick!' finally paid off, this is my nest now, you're welcome."

Fireheart groaned again even louder. He wasn't mad, not really. He was glad she could speak her mind to him, her lousy mentor. But honestly...

"Fiyahat!" 

The absolute butchering of his name made Fireheart and Cinderpaw both look toward the kit-den. A blurry flash of white with dark points came barreling toward them at top speeds, very quick indeed for a kit.

"Fiyahaa!" Little Cloud pounced clumsily, squealing with joy, landing somewhere near Fireheart's hindquarters. Fireheart flipped his tail for the kit, hoping he'd be kind with his claws, knowing in his bones he was going to lose some fur anyway.

His little kit tried a hunting crouch, this time tracking a fluffy moving target. His pupils dilated, his haunches quivered, and he pounced!

He's so cute, Fireheart mused fondly as his kit clawed at his tail. 

"He's so cute! Fireheart! I love him so much!" Cinderpaw exclaimed, wiggling a little as she watched his kit play.

"If you want to play with him, feel free," Fireheart encouraged her. Her dark eyes gleamed. "He's big enough now."

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Fireheart," she purred.

Cinderpaw lumbered off of him anyway, finally letting him breathe. Who knew that dark fur hid so much weight! His ribs were rejoicing, his lungs praising the gracious Cinderpaw, exhalting her.

"Here, little brother, here," she cooed at little Cloud, paw curling inward, inviting.

"Cinnda!" Cloud exclaimed, his game of mangling Fireheart's tail forgotten in the face of a whole new playmate.

Fireheart watched the two young cats play fight, content to lay with the bones of a rabbit. They made him feel beyond his age, these youngsters. So full of life, of love.

He sighed, heart at ease. He had so much work to do, but for now, it was alright to just be.

Chapter Text

Fireheart exited the kit-den in a fantastic mood. He stretched languidly in the light of the dying sun, clawing at the frosty ground before flopping onto his back to wiggle around kit-ishly to get his jitters out. A muffled laugh from across the clearing made him raise his head. By the leader's den was Whitestorm, paw over his mouth to hide a smile. His yellow eyes glittered orange in the sun. Flipping his tail in greeting, Fireheart rolled to his side for one last stretch. His ears followed Whitestorm as he circled the quiet camp toward him.

"Evening, Fireheart. Good to see you in a good mood," he mewed, a purr in his voice. "Nice weather for hunting, eh?"

Fireheart purred a short agreement, shaking out his fur as he got off the ground. He had wanted to spend more time with Whitestorm lately, and at Cinderpaw's behest, had planned a hunt with him the other day. 

"Right? Good thing we'll be going then; I want to make sure Cloud is eating enough. Have you seen how cute he is these days?" He asked, eyes sparkling. "Whitestorm, I'm telling you, if those humans could see him they'd snap him up in a heartbeat, flashing their little square things at him-"

Whitestorm interrupted him with an uncharacteristically loud laugh, a paw coming up to smother it instinctively. As Whitestorm tried and failed to stifle it into his fur, Fireheart sighed. All of his friends kept laughing at him. He wasn't even trying to be funny!

"Hah, sorry Fireheart, it's just, I don't think I've ever heard you say anything was cute?" Whitestorm managed between breathless giggles. "It caught me off guard is all, sorry, sorry, hehe..."

Fireheart rolled his eyes, thoroughly exasperated. Still, it wasn't like Whitestorm laughing at him was going to ruin his day- seeing the elder warrior laugh so freely was really quite nice, all things considered.

"I'm glad you're in a good mood today, too, you big grump," he muttered, purposefully under his breath.

"Grump! I'm not the grumpy one!" Whitestorm complained good-naturedly. His tail swishing along the ground and head tossing in mock-indignation, he says "The lack of respect from the young these days, honestly."

Fireheart laughed out loud, butting his head into Whitestorm's shoulder.

"Let's get going then, Senior Warrior Whitestorm who definitely isn't a pushover or a grump when he hasn't eaten since yesterday moon-rise. Shall we?" Fireheart bowed his head too low to be respectful, smothering another laugh at Whitestorm's playfully bared teeth.

They left the clearing together, definitely not arguing, and made their way slowly to Four-trees. The weather really is nice, Fireheart mused. Clear skies, the warm(er) wind tugging at his whiskers; all of it soothing some kind of ache inside, like honey down a sore throat. They padded along the tributaries to the river-border, scenting for prey. 

For once, Fireheart wasn't overly preoccupied with his thoughts as they hunted; focusing on simply enjoying spending time with Whitestorm was enough to keep his mind busy as they prowled around. He caught himself a nicely sized dove, tail flicking at Whitestorm's faint "good job!" from afar. He was scenting for a nearby mouse when his companion decided to break the silence.

"Did you know, Willowpelt might be joining your den soon?"

The abrupt, too-casual question made him miss his initial pounce, leaving him to scramble briefly before killing the mouse with a hasty bite. He coughed, fur lodged in his throat, eyeing Whitestorm carefully. He looked calm, too calm. His ear bent as Fireheart continued to study him seriously, saying nothing, finally showing a bit of nervousness.

"I'm telling you," Whitestorm began hesitantly, "because you essentially moved in, and I know how cats with kits are about strangers near them."

Fireheart's eyes narrowed at the thought of a complete stranger going near Cloud. He very much disliked it. But the idea of Willowpelt, a cat who was somewhat distant with him but was good to Whitestorm (who, in turn, was a cat he loved greatly admired), being near his kit? He could deal. Or learn to.

(Whitestorm pawed at the ground a little anxiously as Fireheart thought; he was a patient cat by nature, but this topic was close to him, and his deputy's opinion mattered, even if he was young. Fireheart was a burning forest, a lightning flash of passion, of protection. Whatever he decided should happen, Whitestorm would respect his judgement.)

Unaware of Whitestorm's thoughts, Fireheart simply shrugged. He was ultimately fine with it, and honestly even if he wasn't, it's not like he would remove his kit from the kit-den. He was safe there, Fireheart was safe there. He would have a problem if, say, Darkstripe tried to move in, but Willowpelt, someone important to Whitestorm? It was an easy decision to make.

"Fine with me."

Whitestorm sighed in poorly hidden relief, and Fireheart was almost offended at how much relief he saw. Was he really that bad?

(Yes, he was. On occasion.)

"Thank you, Fireheart. I'll be sure to tell Willowpelt!" Whitestorm said cheerfully, a complete turnaround from his previous unease.

Fireheart watched him take a deep breath- partly to settle himself, partly to scent for more prey, he imagined. He watched, as Whitestorm caught a scent, stalking over to a tree on silent paws, his tail held barely above the dead leaves and snow.

He watched as the warrior blurred up the tree, the crunch of bark and the yip of a squirrel the only sounds in the stillness of the evening. He watched, as Whitestorm launched himself off of a low-hanging branch to land just in front of him, the squirrel's body held proudly high and tail his kinked over his back. He settled quickly, glancing at Fireheart's open jaws with vague confusion as if that wasn't the coolest thing he had seen done in seasons.

"What else are you hiding from me, Whitestorm?" Fireheart asked after a moment, sparkling eyes wide. "Can you fly?"

"Hah! Would be useful, but no, sorry," Whitestorm laughed at him. He dug a cache for their collective prey, still smiling, gesturing with a paw for Fireheart to follow. It was a nice change from the apprehensive mood from just moments ago, Fireheart was glad to see. He didn't like it when he made his friends nervous. They walked in silence for a little while, before it was broken yet again.

"Well, I for one would love to see a flying cat. Can you imagine it?" Fireheart eventually took the lead further into the brush, tail flicking in thought.

"I honestly can't, although I heard tales when I was young, of Skyclan cats leaping from branch to branch like they were squirrels themselves," Whitestorm said absently. "They used to say they traveled to Gatherings through the trees, that they could ambush any invading enemy by hiding in the leaves. Interesting, no?"

Fireheart tried to imagine it, how much bravery it would take to hunt within the treetops. He shivered; he wasn't a tree cat by any stretch of the mind. Solid ground was where he was born, and it was where he would stay. What was more curious to him, in any case, was that Whitestorm learned to do it; seemed to him like every time he turned his head he was learning something knew about his friends.

What did Old Henry used to say? Fireheart mused. Mysteries keep life interesting?

Whitestorm didn't seem to mind his preoccupation. It was nice to spend time together with no urgent business to attend to; Fireheart himself was usually plenty busy, and Whitestorm was no different.

(Fireheart ignored the little voice that said you're busy all the time on purpose, you don't make time for fun. He did. Cinderpaw was doing her level best to get him to take breaks and he wouldn't let her effort go to waste.

He wouldn't.)

He watched his companion stalk a skinny rabbit, white fur blending with the snow. He leaped just as it looked up, powerful claws hooking into its neck, his teeth flashing in the low light as he swifty bit into it. Whitstorm endlessly amazed Fireheart with his compassion and strength, and it was only matched by his capacity for violence, ever held in check by his strength of character.

"Great catch!" Fireheart called out, shaking away his starry-eyed admiration. 

Whitestorm looked up at him, licking the blood away. His tail was high once more as he dragged the rabbit over.

"Let's share this, shall we?" He suggested, a slight smile on his face. It was a little threatening (his mouth was still bloody), but Fireheart was honestly getting used to his friends being weirdly sinister at any given moment. Whatever protest he had died in his throat at the pleading look Whitestorm then gave him. 

Shaking his head, Fireheart gave in. Deputy he may be, but Whitestorm could ask for the moon and he would try to get it. It helped that he so rarely asked for anything, but honestly. Master of persuasion, that one.

They shared the rabbit, its still-warm body easing their hunger far better than the half-frozen prey in camp ever could. After a quick wash and burying the remains, their hunt continued. By the time they decided to go back to Thunderclan, the sun had fully set and their cache was considerably full, even for snow-fall.

Fireheart was quite proud of how far his skill had come the past few moons. Hunting for Cinderpaw when she asked, his friends in the kit-den when they asked (and even when they didn't), and for Yellowfang had polished up his skill immensely. Not that he had ever been terrible at hunting, but finally being on par with Whitestorm, and by association Sandstorm, the two most accomplished hunters in Thunderclan? He felt very proud indeed. 

Whitestorm glanced over at his muffled purring. With their mouths full they could hardly speak, but Whitestorm seemed to know what he was thinking anyway, kinking his tail high over his back in happiness. He bumped their shoulders as they walked, brushing their pelts together amiably. 

Fireheart was glad Whitestorm was one of the few who didn't feel the need to sit on him or lay on him or any other manner of weird things his other friends somehow got him to go along with. Not that he minded most of the time, but really, sometimes he just didn't want to be smushed! He pressed back into the friendly touch.

They traipsed along the paths in a comfortable silence. Fireheart was feeling pretty good about how this evening had turned out, all things considered; Goldenflower would be happy for him, much less Cinderpaw, who'd been badgering him to spend more time with others and not being out on his own all the time. He didn't know what the big deal was, but maybe Yellowfang knew and just decided to not mention it to him. She really wasn't above messing with him. He shook his head fondly.

(What he didn't know, and what Yellowfang wouldn't tell him, was that he was becoming increasingly upsetting to watch. He was withdrawing further and further from them, his loved ones, and it hurt to see. So, she did what any concerned mother healer would do, and sicced his daughter apprentice on him.)

(What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.)

When they finally reached the camp, the moon was riding high, shining its soft light and casting long shadows. Cats mingled, sharing meals, tongues, gossip. Some looked up as he and Whitestorm put their catches on the prey pile. Their close proximity tilted a few heads, but it mattered not one bit to Fireheart. He was allowed to be comfortable, to share space! They never gave him odd looks when he shared with his other friends, and it only annoyed him a little bit. 

(Again, what he didn't know, was that they were mostly looking at Whitestorm- notorious for being pretty self-contained, only spending his time with his mate or his aunt, even-keeled and not one for fits of temper.

That he chose Fireheart, known ball of feral rage, well. It was certainly a choice, wasn't it?)

Shaking his head, he murmured a goodbye to Whitestorm (who blinked at him affectionately), intent on getting some rest before going on a solo patrol later. One of his friends might bully him into letting them come, and he was trying not to think about it too hard. Grabbing his pigeon, he strolled over to the kit-den that may as well be called the deputy den too, gave it to Goldenflower to share with whoever she wished, and laid down for a nap.

The clan could survive without him for a little while.

Chapter Text

Fireheart ended up going on patrol that night with Brindleface, much to his (hidden) annoyance. She had caught wind of his plans while he was out, somehow. Once he woke up from his nap, Cloud tucked away at his belly, she confronted him. 

(She would never tell him, but seeing him sleep so peacefully with his kit snuggled in was absolutely the cutest thing she had ever seen. His kit, little ball of fluff that he was, had climbed into Fireheart's nest as soon as they returned from their little walk and hadn't moved since. 

She hadn't the heart to move him until Fireheart woke up.)

Fireheart grumbled halfheartedly to himself as they walked along their side of the road, where the Shadowclan border was within sight but not reach. He was glad his friends wanted to check on him, but stars was he starting to need some space. The next patrol he went on, he swore it would be a solo one.

"Don't be so sore, Fireheart," Brindleface cajoled, gently shoulder checking him. "I'm not too much of a bother, am I?"

"Not at all!" Fireheart gaped at her, stopping completely.

"Then what's the issue?" She narrowed her eyes at him, a warning in her voice to answer the question or else.

Fireheart dithered a moment, wilting under her glare the longer she kept it up. Brindleface was a force to be reckoned with, for sure. He grimaced.

"I'm feeling stifled, is all," he mumbled, breaking their staring contest by engaging the ground instead. Brindleface's gray paws came into view, the sound of her sitting the only thing reaching his flattened ears. After a long moment of silence, she spoke.

"By?"

"I don't know," he all but wailed, at his wits end. He didn't know why he felt this way, especially after spending time with Whitestorm, how nice his evening was, his talks with Cinderpaw, and his kit, and, and-

"Oh, Fireheart," Brindleface murmured sadly, paws reaching up to hold his head still, grooming his ears, his head, his cheeks.

"I had such a good evening, I don't know why I'm upset," Fireheart said, defeated, as his friend scented him fiercely. Her purr was doing its best to drown out his thoughts, his misery, loud enough to wake the dead.

"It's okay to be upset for no reason, you silly cat," Brindleface admonished, no real heat in her tone. "These things happen sometimes. Doesn't mean anything's wrong with you."

"It sure feels like it," he mumbled, "I was fine earlier, I don't know what happened."

"Nothing has to happen, that's what I'm trying to tell you. Sometimes, even just thoughts can makes us feel bad inside. It's alright," she repeated firmly, catching his blurry gaze.

He stared for a long moment, checking her sincerity, before shoving his head equally fiercely into her fur to hide his face, his heartache. All Brindleface did in response was to purr even louder, continuing to brush through his fur with comforting licks.

Eventually, Fireheart lifted his head from his friend. He wanted to be embarrassed, really, but in all honesty he was too exhausted for it. It wasn't like Brindleface would judge him anyway.

"Better?" She rumbled at him, eyes sympathetic.

"Yeah, sure," Fireheart said vaguely. He was feeling a bit better, but stars if he wasn't tired. His nap earlier didn't help at all.

"Hm. How about this," Brindleface suggested, eyes narrowed again, but tone light, "we finish the patrol, you get something light to eat, and you go back to sleep in the nursery with our collective kits until we absolutely need you to give out orders. I can take care of everything else, don't you worry a bit."

Fireheart stared at her, eyes wide.

"What's that look for?" She snorted, amused. "You can rely on me, bird brain."

"No, I know, it's just..." He trailed off. He tapped his tail a moment, gaze out toward the road.

"Just what?"

"It's nice to be told what to do for once, is all," Fireheart told her distractedly. "Instead of the other way round, I mean."

"Oh," Brindleface blinked, lost for words. Whatever she was expecting to hear, it sure wasn't that, apparently.

"Mm."

"Well," She coughed out, "let's continue, then, shall we?" 

Fireheart ambled to his feet, willing to follow his friend's lead, exhausted as he was. She circled him once, twice, nodded to herself, and led him along the border before eventually turning for home at a steady pace.

"I do understand wanting to not be in camp, you know," Brindleface told him as they crossed a stream. Considering they had been walking in silence for a good while it caught Fireheart off guard.

"You do?"

"Course, why do you think I'm never in the den? There's just something about the freedom of the forest you just can't get from camp, you know?" She took a deep breath, enjoying the crisp night air. Her eyes gleamed as they caught his, moonlight making them shine like river stones.

"Yeah, I know," Fireheart sighed as he looked away. Our reasons are different though, that little voice whispered to him. He shook it away, annoyed. What did that matter; she knew how he felt, that was what's important.

Brindleface kept up the pace toward Thunderclan, brushing against his side every so often as if to remind him that she was there. He really was lucky they had ended up such close friends, Fireheart thought. Not many cats these days would dare to give him orders, much less boss him around or let him hide in their fur.

Fireheart leaned more heavily into his friend, a rough purr climbing up his throat as she let him. He tilted his head up for another ungentle nuzzle; Brindleface nearly always knocked him over when she shared touch but it never bothered him in the least. The way she showed she cared was special, unique among all his friends.

(Brindleface heard his rusted purr and quietly despaired. Her precious friend, good-hearted and too thoughtful of others. He was well suited to deputyship, no doubt, but she thinks privately that it's simply too much on him.

She was going to have a chat with Bluestar, willingly or not.)

Fireheart, blissfully unaware of his friend's darkening thoughts, trudged onward. His purr tapered off as they neared the camp. Brindleface hopped down the ravine first, watching him stumble after warily. Did he truly look so terrible? If Brindleface of all cats was worried, perhaps she was right to, he imagined.

Like her affection, her worry was equally rough, but he appreciated it. Other cats might find it abrasive or unwelcoming, but it just assured Fireheart that she cared. In his daze, he fumbled the last hop down, careening right into her side. It annoyed him vaguely that he got so clumsy when tired.

Brindleface lent him her shoulder to lean on, laughing only a little at his bleary state. She led him onward through the bushes, the gorse tunnel, the center of camp, and finally (finally) the shared kit-den. His nest had never looked so welcoming, he nearly sobbed in relief at the sight.

"Firehaa?" Cloud mewed sleepily, head rising from his paws. "Home?"

"Home," Fireheart purred at his kit, curling around him snugly. 

"Eat this when you wake up," Brindleface abruptly ordered, placing a squirrel nearby. When she left to get it, he had no idea. He purred a weary thanks regardless, tucking Cloud further into his belly. He lay his head down in his soft nest, eyes closed, lulled by his kit's tiny, happy rumbles.

Sleep sounded just about perfect.

Chapter Text

Fireheart woke up amongst the familiar green forest, fog, and dew of Starclan and sighed.

"Hey there, Fireheart. Finally getting some actual sleep?" Redtail laughed, sitting comfortably a few paces away. His fur sparkled with tiny stars, making his silhouette vaguely blurry and hard to focus on.

Fireheart squinted at the deputy he had never met in life. Why was he here.

"Well, I'm here because I'm dead," Redtail teased, "but you're here because I called you."

Fireheart, head in his paws, groaned. "Why, Redtail."

"Oh, don't be like that. Your body is still resting, you'll feel way better when you actually wake up, Starclan works in mysterious ways, blah blah." He waved a dismissive paw.

"Anyway, look," he said, getting to his paws, "I wanted to talk to you because a little bird told me my dear sister is going to kit at some point soon, and I got concerned."

"About?" Fireheart watched him warily.

"Willowpelt and you, obviously," Redtail rolled his eyes.

"What? Why me too?" Fireheart couldn't imagine what about him a Starclan cat would be so concerned over; they hadn't sent him dreams in moons, not since Graystripe left Thunderclan, since Tigerclaw's sudden demise-

"Starclan sees great things for you, Fireheart." He blinked at the non sequitur. Redtail padded closer, circling him tightly.

"Um-"

"Thing about that is, you have to actually live that long, and nobody here sees you doing that unless you really get your life together," Redtail mewed cheerfully into his ear, ruffling the fur. "So! I'm here to offer you a deal, yeah?"

Fireheart's ears felt hot; he ignored it. Deal? He cleared his throat, pushing away the fluffy tail edging up under his chin.

"What kind of deal, Redtail? I don't think I can give dead cats much of anything."

"Oh you don't have to give me a single thing, Fire-cat! You've already done enough, helping get rid of that filth that murdered me," Redtail smiled vindictively. "All I want from you is updates; check-ups on my kin, if you will."

"...sure," Fireheart agreed slowly. Redtail's handsome face inched closer, eagerly. His smile grew sharper, fangs glinting.

Fireheart shifted away from that look, ears flattening. He was happy to help, really, but...

"What do I get out of this agreement, then?" He asked, glancing at those sharp amber eyes. They glittered like they had stars in them as well; like cold fire.

Redtail hummed, withdrawing from Fireheart's space. He swung his tail slowly, gold eyes considering, head tilted.

"Dunno! Bye now!"

"Wha-"

And Fireheart woke up.

Chapter Text

Sandstorm gazed across the coldly moon-lit camp, a frown pulling her muzzle. She wasn't looking at anything, really, lost in thought as she was. Her claws gripped the slowly thawing ground, testing their might against hapless soil. An exasperated, wordless, loud meow caught her ears, nabbing her attention like an owl catching a shrew- 

And she watched a dark-tipped white blur hare out of the nursery like he had ants in his fur, a playfully snapping deputy mere heartbeats behind the kit. The kit suddenly stopped and turned, nearly causing the deputy to bowl right over him- and leapt over the red warrior in a bid to escape. Sandstorm watched, as the deputy neatly caught the kit before he could land by the scruff.

She heard, if barely, the roughly muttered "you will be bathed, you nasty kit! No amount of biting me will change that!" as the deputy all but dragged his wailing kin back into the nursery.

Wide-eyed, she glanced around the camp- caught Whitestorm's bemused gaze. She nearly knocked him over in her haste to get to him, to ask what in the stars' name that was. Because that? That didn't look like the Fireheart she knew at all.

"It's not as if you do know him, now is it?" Whitestorm chided gently, words cutting even as he softened them.

"But- that-"

His eyes narrowed, usual sharpness returning. "I would much rather see him play kit-games than be a shadow of himself," he mewed slowly, gaze still on her. "I would rather he be comfortable enough to play kit-games in camp, rather than be off by himself, alone with naught but thoughts of how Thunderclan must despise him."

Sandstorm reared back slightly, stung. She opened her mouth to say- something, but nothing came.

Images of this new version of Fireheart flashed through her mind- the furious light in his eyes glowing like cold fire in the heat of battle, how vicious he became in those moments, outshining even blood-warriors with his ferocity in protecting his clanmates, kit, his friends. How his green eyes shone with gentle fondness while playing with his kit in camp (and how rare that was to actually see, Sandstorm realized, a little ashamed), or talking with the queens, or even Whitestorm, and how did he manage that, anyway?

She tilted her head at Whitestorm, considering him. Sandstorm was no fool; she has eyes and ears and a brain to make sense of things. For Whitestorm to defend their deputy, regardless if he could hear, it meant something. What had Fireheart done, to earn her mentor's respect? The stars knew what he had done to earn hers, of course. Surely he knew?

Whitestorm snorted at her contemplation. He knew by now, after seasons of knowing her and training her and raising her that Sandstorm had always been quick- quick on the uptake, quick on her feet, quick to judge. At least, in her favor, changing her mind was no hardship once she met with adequate reason to.

"Hmm." Sandstorm sat.

"Ah? You've decided, then?" Whitestorm asked, tail twitching in subtle laughter. He seated himself as well, flipping his tail elegantly over his paws. 

"Yes," Sandstorm mewed, tossing her head haughtily. "If he can change, why can't I? Was that the point you were going to make, my dear, know-it-all mentor who is never ever wrong?" She cut her eyes over to him, waiting for it.

Whitestorm didn't disappoint- he snorted a laugh, covered it with his paw, and swatted at her for daring to make him loose such an uncomely sound. Her old mentor settled quickly, bright yellow eyes glittering proudly as he gazed at her. He leaned over to brush his chin and cheek along her head, sighing lightly.

"Got it in one, dear. He really is something special, you see, and I've come to worry for him quite a bit," Whitestorm sighed again into her fur. 

"Hm." Sandstorm swished her tail along the ground.

"So, you see," the white warrior went on, his head bonking lightly into her own, "if you want to know who he is, what he's like now, I would suggest talking to him. Or at him, if you want. Talk in his general vicinity, maybe."

Sandstorm laughed a little at the imagery; she would look quite odd indeed if she stared at nothing while talking arround Fireheart, not even sure if he was listening. Or there.

"Or," Whitestorm interrupted her thought with a poke to the side. "Or, and get this- you could go up to him, right now, and say 'Hey Fireheart, let's go hunting,' and if he says no, talk to Brindleface."

"What. Really?"

"Really. I'm serious."

"When did- they're friends? Like, actual real friends?" Sandstorm wasn't shocked, really, that Fireheart had friends, but. Brindleface was a bit. Abrasive, to say the least.

"They really are!" Whitestorm defended them, a smile on his face, a lightness in his eye. It made Sandstorm smile to see him so animated.

"She bosses him around so much, I wouldn't have thought..." she trailed off. Ah. It reminded her of Dustpelt and herself.

"The whole den is friends with each other, I'm decently sure. They're the ones Fireheart spends the most time with willingly, at least," Whitestorm's tone changed, grumbling half-heartedly. His claws pricked the ground thoughtlessly, ears bending back slightly.

Jealousy? From Whitestorm? May the world never cease to send her mystery and wonder, Sandstorm thought in bemused shock.

There's a lull in the conversation where Sandstorm thinks of everything and nothing at all. Her mind wanders, meanders, never stops, like a winding river, like clouds brushing overhead. 

"Sandstorm!"

The call from across the camp interrupts her non-thoughts.

Craning her head around, Sandstorm narrowed her eyes against the moon-glare to see who- ah. Yellowfang.

"You young cats have free time, go take this to Fireheart, will you?" Yellowfang stalked over to the two warriors, carrying a light parcel of leaves in her flat muzzle and the scent of herbs and honey on the wind. Her eyes cut to Whitestorm, who had attempted to stifle his laughter at her first words. Badly.

"Means you too, White-cat. Get that deputy of ours out of the camp afterward while you're at it, too, he's been fussing all evening," she grumbled at them. Her voice, naturally raspy and rough, sounded harsher than typical; she caught their blinks of concern and rolled her eyes.

"Just a sore throat, you worrywarts. It happens. Now get!" Yellowfang huffed, turning back toward the medicine den.

"Ah, thank you, Yellowfang!" Whitestorm called after her, a little awkwardly.

She simply raised her tail in farewell, disappearing into her den but a moment later.

"..."

"I guess. We should go see Fireheart, then?" Sandstorm nudged the packet of leaves warily with her paw.

"I suppose we shall, dear," Whitestorm replied. His tail swished once, twice, then stilled as they stood in tandem. He picked up the leaf packet at Sandstorm's paw, nodding for her to lead the way.

Sandstorm halted a few pawsteps from the entrance to the nursery den, truly not wanting to intrude on kit-wash time, not with new parents in the den. Instead of walking right in like a wet-behind-the-ears apprentice, she gave a wordless call into the darkness. She and Whitestorm wait patiently for anyone to exit, trading glances when they hear the tell-tale rustle of someone coming forth.

"Yes?" An aggrieved voice says, before a dark orange head shoved its way out of the den, followed by scarred shoulders, flanks, and a fox-like bushy tail. Eyes green like Newleaf ferns gaze at the two warriors in surprise before shuttering into an odd blank look as soon as they meet Sandstorm's. (She ignores the pang in her heart at that; she deserved nothing less, after the way she'd treated him. She barely notices when he looks away, caught in her shame.)

"What?" Fireheart sounded as rough as he did earlier. His fur looked dull, but that could be the moonlight, she reasoned, a little doubtfully.

"Yellowfang brought these to us, so we could bring them to you," Whitestorm mewed kindly, pushing the herb packet he had set down toward Fireheart's paws. The deputy bent his head to sniff at them, curious. 

Admittedly, Sandstorm was curious as well. She hadn't heard any rumblings of sickness in the camp lately, so why would-

"Honey!" Fireheart breathed, relief obvious in his tone. Honey for a sore throat? Sandstorm wondered. "And catmint." His tone turned aggravated.

Sandstorm and Whitestorm shared a bemused look at they watched the deputy grumble to himself as he chewed up the herbs right in front of them, not seeming to care if they stayed or not as he dabbed at the honey with a paw. It was almost funny, Sandstorm thought, watching Fireheart complain but obey Yellowfang. They must've talked earlier about what to do or why. Must have been when he was 'fussing'. The thought made her laugh.

Fireheart, done with his sticky herb mess, looked up at the two quizzically. His eyes already looked a smidge clearer, to Sandstorm's amazement. Her thoughts rushed. Who knew how fast herbs could work, that's pretty cool. Yellowfang sure knows her stuff, huh, wonder if she'd be up for teaching me some things on the side, wouldn't hurt to ask-

"Did you guys need something else?" Fireheart sounded less annoyed with them than he had at the start; Yellowfang really had amazing timing.

Sandstorm raised a paw, grabbing his attention. She tilted her head at him, trying for a light tone and probably missing by a fox-tail.

"Whitestorm and I, we wanted to go hunting. Would you like to join us?"

Whitestorm nodded as Fireheart's gaze sought his; Sandstorm would have felt annoyed had she not also glanced at Whitestorm for assurance.

"I mean. You're sure? You're asking me?" Fireheart glanced back at her, tone unreadable. 

She tilted her head further, a little confused, but nodded. The emphasis he put on me was odd, she thought; he had never been a bad hunter, in her opinion. She had just not liked him, as an individual. At all. But since she had decided to make an effort to not be awful to him about something she realized (belatedly) that he couldn't control, to respect him, it seemed like an easy progression. Hunt together, show your skill, and we can be friends. Or something like that, she supposed. 

"Whitestorm?"

"We're asking you, Fireheart, you can say no," her mentor mewed, a paw coming up to gently smack Fireheart's face.

Fireheart's green eyes narrowed at her but not in a hostile way, more like he was trying to see into her skull, and that gave her a weird mental image. Sandstorm offered him another nod. See, she can be amiable. She respects him now, see?

"...you know what," Fireheart mumbled into Whitestorm's paw. He then muttered something they couldn't catch. Whitestorm glanced at her quizzically, turned back to Fireheart, removed his paw.

"Hm?"

"You know what?" Fireheart repeated himself firmly, "Sure, why not. Why not? Let's go. Let me say bye. Wait."

He turned around to go back into the nursery so fast he became a blur. The two warriors were left standing in his dust, blinking at each other. Whitestorm got her to crack first, and what Fireheart came back outside to was two warriors of good standing making faces at each other while trying not to giggle.

Sandstorm managed to catch her breath after a few moments, catching the complicated look on their deputy's face before he pushed away whatever thought was making him both flatten his ears and wrinkle his muzzle like he wanted to laugh.

"Let's go?" Whitestorm asked with a cheery grin.

"Let's go," Sandstorm agreed, smiling slightly.

Fireheart hummed wordlessly, took one last look at the nursery, and led the way.

Chapter Text

Sandstorm ended up leading the way through the forest, Fireheart opting to hang back with Whitestorm after they had left camp. Her tail swayed as she looked around at everything and nothing, hearing her companions trail after her almost absently.

Her ears caught their murmured conversation, but it didn't involve her, or they weren't involving her, so she let it wash over her. No sense in intruding, she figured. If they wanted to talk with her they'd make it clear.

Sandstorm paused, ears flicking as they catch wind of... mouse! Her body fell into its long-learned crouch, powerful legs tensed in anticipation as she zeroed in on the scent, her whiskers pulled forward to sense any movement she couldn't hear.

One step.

Two.

A third, and she pounced.

"Nice work, my dear!" Whitestorm praised, his tail held proudly high. 

"Hm!" Sandstorm tossed her head in mock-arrogance, twitching tail giving her charade away almost immediately. Her eyes squinted into a smile as she glanced at her mentor, at Fireheart beside him. He looked as thoughtful as usual, lost in his own head like Sandstorm often was. She didn't take it personally, his lack of involvement; she didn't have much to say either, most of the time.

They moved on.

Sandstorm buried her catch under the remnants of snow, moonlight fading in and out as they trekked further under the bare trees. She caught glimpses of stars, and thought.

Fireheart eventually broke away from their group, silently, ears tall and tail low, intent on his own prey. Whitestorm settled into a crouch by Sandstorm, waiting for him to return. They watched the deputy circle a silver-barked tree in silence. His pawsteps were whisper-quiet; they held their breaths. Fireheart was out of sight.

They shared a glance, pride in Whitestorm's moonlight-bright eyes, anticipation in Sandstorm's.

The sharp crrack! of a branch in the distance made Sandstorm jump; Whitestorm laughed at her. Rude.

She was busy flattening her mentor's face with her paws when Fireheart returned, jaws laden with a massive crow. In this weather, in this season? Sandstorm was proud of him, truly.

"Great catch!" She mewed, letting Whitestorm up off the ground. "Your kit's going to have a fun time with that one!"

"He'd love that, wouldn't he," Fireheart grumbled good-naturedly, pleased with the praise, setting the bird down close by. His posture was more at-ease than before, Sandstorm noted. It was good to see him more relaxed, not so tense, not so on-edge. 

"He would appreciate the feathers," Whitestorm laughed, "if not the whole bird."

Sandstorm choked on her own laugh, imagining Cloud, such a tiny kit, bright white fur covered in black feather-down and trailing it across the entire camp in his enthusiasm. An adorable sight to see, she thought.

"Well," she nudged the deputy, smiling slightly, "you're obligated to let him have it now, I have got to see his face, this thing's bigger than he is!"

Fireheart's eyes had widened a little at her friendly touch, but his face turned long-suffering, thinking of the battle that was apparently grooming that little spitfire of a kit.  

Sandstorm watched the life leave his eyes and laughed at his pain.

She couldn't imagine herself with kits, but she could see the change it wrought in her clanmates, whether they were expecting or not. Something about the love, she thought, or maybe it was the role they assumed, caring for something tiny and wholly dependent on you. She saw the change in Fireheart, how devoted he was to caring for his adopted son, and her heart felt warm.

They moved on with their hunt, the easy air between them settling the nerves she hadn't realized she'd had. Whitestorm's gentle ribbing and Fireheart's hilariously bland responses filled her ears as they walked and hunted, moonlight gently framing the three of them.

It was a good night.

___________

Later, after returning to Thunderclan after a fantastically successful hunt, the three warriors sat around their veritable mountain of prey.

"We really caught all of this?" Fireheart asked tentatively, eyes wide. His tail swished the ground nervously. The eyes of the clan were on them all, but Sandstorm ignored it. They did well, and she was happy.

"We really did!" Sandstorm exclaimed, shooting Fireheart a fanged smile. He should be proud, she thought, because she certainly was. And why not? Her and Whitestorm, and Fireheart now, he had demonstrated that quite clearly, were the best hunters Thunderclan had ever had the privilege of having, of course she was proud! They had all proven themselves immensely, tonight.

"And in leaf-bare too!" Whitestorm chimed in, his head high, looking altogether extremely satisfied. He then leaned over to Sandstorm, brushed against her with his cheek, nearly shoving her over with the force of it as his rumble-roar purr vibrated her bones. White fur pressed against her briefly, blurred her vision and she blinked in vague surprise as it left; Fireheart's noise of confusion told her Whitestorm had given him the same treatment.

Sandstorm stifled a laugh. Ah, classic Whitestorm; smothering cats in a purring embrace was just his style when he was happy. She was glad. He had seemed worried lately. About what, she didn't know, but she could guess.

She pressed her face into warm white fur, a content purr rumbling in her chest. 

"Fire! Heart!"

The cry, high and young and happy, sounded across the camp. Sandstorm lifted her head in time to see a small white form bolt from the nursery. Cloud was nothing but wordless mewing as he ran toward the three warriors, stubby tail high, young face split open in the biggest smile Sandstorm had ever seen on a kit. So cute, she thought. Just adorable.

"Hi, hi," Fireheart just laughed, freeing himself from Whitestorm and nuzzling the kit fiercely. Cloud was rumbling like a monster, winding around the deputy incessantly, pawing at his orange tail, his legs. Fireheart's eyes were gentle like the softest mosses, like tree-shade, looking at him.

"Did you miss me?" He asked the kit, lightly teasing.

"Yes! Yes yes! Missed you!" Cloud cried, standing on his back legs to rub against Fireheart's chin. "Where! Go!"

"Hunting!" Fireheart giggled softly. "I told you earlier, silly kit, were you not listening?" His movements were exaggerated, but not overtly so, as they spoke, and he was enunciating far more clearly than when talking with Sandstorm and Whitestorm...

Ah, she thought. Cloud was hard of hearing, like Willowpelt. Made sense, she realized, thinking back to all the times cats had startled the poor kit by walking from behind him, which, to him was probably like cats appearing out of thin air, or how pitchy his mews were, among other things. Ahh. Sandstorm got it now.

She glanced at Whitestorm; he looked so fond, so happy, watching Fireheart and his kit. It was sweet.

"- and this is Sandstorm, see? Her fur is gold like sand, right?" Fireheart was saying, pointing to her, and suddenly there were big blue eyes right under her nose.

"Hi! Hello! I'm Cloud!" Cloud all but yelled at her face, enthusiastic, fur bushed out in his excitement. His paws tippy-tapped the ground, and Sandstorm was in love.

"Hello! I'm Sandstorm! Nice to meet you," She replied, smiling as wide as she could. Cloud watched her mouth move, his dark ears oh-so-attentively tall, and stars above he was just. So. Cute. She could barely contain a joyful wiggle, her heart warm warm warm. Whitestorm chuckled beside her.

Fireheart tapped the kit's shoulder with a paw, tilting his head. His body angled itself in a way that revealed the prey pile. She watched Cloud's already wide blue eyes widen further, his mouth drop open in amazement.

"Wow! Huge!" He shouted, tail lashing in delight. Sandstorm stifled a laugh into her paws.

"And look what I caught you!" Fireheart said proudly, digging out the massive crow. He set it before the kit, who was all but wiggling.

"Huge!" Cloud's elated yowl turned heads, and Sandstorm saw a few widened eyes in the crowd when she bothered to look, but her attention was on the exuberant kit, so she paid them no mind.

"Just for you, so you better eat it, okay? Not just play with feathers?" Fireheart said, affection bleeding from him in waves Sandstorm could almost see.

"Yes! Can I. Um," Cloud hesitated, glancing at the nursery, "Share it? With Brindle?" He looked back at Fireheart, paw on the bird.

"You can," the deputy mewed with a nod, his smile squinting his eyes it was so big. 

"Yes! Love you!" Cloud squealed, launching himself at his adopted father, purring like a newleaf thunderstorm. He pressed against him for a few heartbeats, letting Fireheart groom his head, before turning back to the crow. He paused.

"Need help?" Sandstorm asked, trying not to laugh, but the bird really was bigger than the kit, and it tickled her something fierce to imagine him dragging such a thing all the way to the nursery. Such a trek it must seem!

"Um," Cloud hesitated, glancing at Fireheart. He simply tilted his head, letting the kit decide. She watched him think, looking back at the bird, before turning to her with a determined glint in his eyes.

"No thank you I got it!" He mewed, nodding at her.

She took him at his word and sat back down, gesturing with a paw for him to get on with it, then, a la Yellowfang. The kit squared his tiny shoulders, grabbed the bird, and marched and tugged with all his might to the nursery. The black feathers obscured most of him from view, but they all heard his little growls of effort. And, soon enough, he reached his goal, disappearing into the den with a happy yowl.

Sandstorm gazed at the sky, noting the lightening horizon. They'd hunted the whole night, and she certainly felt like it. Satisfied but drained, she settled into a comfortable crouch, her tail drawn close.

Sandstorm heard a quiet sigh; Fireheart. He looked tired, she thought. She caught Whitestorm's glance, and thought better of asking are you alright. They sat in silence, not yet ready to go to bed, but all suddenly exhausted regardless.

"He has your stubbornness," Whitestorm murmured after a while. Fireheart just huffed a laugh, standing and stretching a back foot.

"He's a pawful is what he is," Fireheart mewed back, sleepiness blunting his usual sharpness, softening his voice into something sweet and fond. " 'n I bet I'll find feathers in my fur 'til greenleaf, just you see-" a sudden yawn, "Ugh, just you wait, they'll be everywhere..." His voice tapered off into a murmur, then nothing.

Sandstorm blinked at the ground, her own jaws cracking into a massive yawn.

"Time for bed?" Whitestorm nudged her shoulder with his nose.

"Mm."

"Alright, up, up with you," Whitestorm nudged her again, forcefully, getting her to stand. He looked back at the deputy, standing but blearily blinking at nothing, and sighed. "You too, Fireheart."

"Hm?" His head snapped up at the name-call, then tilted quizzically.

"Go to bed, Fireheart." It was an order said kindly.

"Mm. Okay," he obeyed easily, already heading toward the nursery. He paused, turned around, dipped his head.

"Thank you," he mewed haltingly, "for inviting me. I had fun." His tone was odd, but Sandstorm couldn't parse it, worn-out as she was. She could only nod at him with a tired smile. He blinked gratefully at them both, and walked away.

"Bed, bed, let's go to bed," Whitestorm purred in a lilting, almost melodic kind of way, a refrain she knew well from her time as an apprentice, eager to work herself to the bone, eager to prove her worth. She hummed along as they made their way to the warriors' den, tail swaying in time, head low with weariness.

She settled into her nest with a satisfied sigh, curling up tight with her tail over her nose, heard Whitestorm lay down with his own sigh of contentment, and was happy.

Tonight had been good.

Chapter Text

Fireheart sat by Bluestar's den, fur glowing crimson in the light of the rising sun. The time had finally come for Cinderpaw to receive her warrior name, and they all couldn't have been more proud of her. Healing and training, and healing and more training, and more healing; he looked so proud of his apprentice, his kit in all but blood, and it was so obvious to Sandstorm, sitting a bit away from the center of the camp, Whitestorm by her side.

The ceremony was a blur to Sandstorm, her ears and eyes a little overwhelmed by the amount of cats present; maybe she was more unused to bigger crowds than she had thought. She shook her head a little to shake the feeling away. Pressed her fur into Whitestorm's warmth.

Her eyes catch on and stay glued to Cinderpaw, sitting proudly in the middle of camp. Her fur all but gleamed in the sunlight, revealing patches of paler gray and tan that Sandstorm had never noticed before. She had never gotten close with the apprentice during her training, never really talked with her much even during her stint as Yellowfang's pseudo-apprentice. She was, however, incredibly proud of the young cat, and held not a small amount of admiration for her when she thought about it. 

Bluestar gives her the name Cinderpelt. Not the most illustrious of names, Sandstorm felt, but it didn't matter, because Cinderpelt's eyes were just as wide as they were when she was a kit, shining bright and happy and proud.

______

Sandstorm waited her turn to congratulate the new warrior, patiently sitting with her tail over her paws. 

Frostfur and her other kits were the first to greet the newly-named Cinderpelt, Fireheart not far behind. Sandstorm watched them, feeling warm. Ceremonies were always a joyous occasion, and Cinderpelt had more than earned her name, in Sandstorm's opinion.

She watched the crowd of cats around the gray warrior disperse, Fireheart staying. And still, Sandstorm waited. She didn't want to interrupt, but there was nothing stopping her from listening in, and, she reasoned, if they wanted to have a private conversation they could easily go outside of camp, so Sandstorm didn't feel too bad about training her ears toward the pair and relaxing a little bit. Late morning always made her sleepy, she was fine with waiting a little bit.

"...kind of bland, isn't it?" Fireheart was teasing, tail twitching.

"I've never wanted to be someone special anyway," Cinderpelt shrugged carelessly. "You've got one of the coolest names in the clan anyway, I couldn't hope to compare."

"Wh- I do not, you-" Fireheart sputtered, ears flattening.

"Besides!" She talked over him with a tooth-baring smile, "I match Brackenfur!"

Fireheart just shook his head exasperatedly, a smile on his face. Sandstorm snorted; never change, Cinderpelt, she thought a little wryly.

Sandstorm felt a presence by her haunches - ah, little Cloud had joined her. She noted his fluffy, washed fur and wondered how long it had taken Fireheart to groom him. The thought had her suppressing a laugh. The kit certainly lived up to his name so far!

"Sandstorm?" Cloud asked, big blue eyes peering up at her, paws tapping the ground energetically.

"Mm?" She tilted her head at him. Go on, the motion said.

"Fireheart said, you'll be my teacher?" The kit watched her closely, eyes fixed on her face, flicking over her lax body language, and she smiled inwardly. What a treat it was to not have someone stare directly into her eyes!

Sandstorm nodded at his question; Fireheart had indeed had a chat with her a little while ago about mentoring the kit. Not long after their friendly hunt, in fact. Looking at the kit now, he was certainly growing; his head was nearly at her shoulder already. Not far off from apprenticeship at all. She was looking forward to it.

"Great!" Cloud smiled at her widely, toothy and almost certainly something he learned from Cinderpelt, Sandstorm thought fondly.

"Ah? And what do we have here, a little storm-cloud?" Fireheart's voice was suddenly closer, warm, and when she looked, he was smiling. 

"Fireheart!" Cloud greeted the deputy, eyes squinting happily.

Sandstorm straightened from her tired slouch; Cinderpelt had padded over as well.

"Congratulations, Cinderpelt! I knew you could do it," Sandstorm nodded, trying to sound proud, like she meant it, smiling with her eyes.

"Thanks!" Cinderpelt grinned back, sharp teeth bared with delight and glinting in the sunlight.

"Cinda! Cinda!" Cloud bounced up, paws kicking up dirt as he circled the gray warrior. "You did it!"

"I did, I did!" She laughed along, twitching her tail up to not get trod on by an overexcited kit still growing into his paws. "It's Cinderpelt now, see, for my fur."

"Yeah! It's cool!" Cloud eagerly nuzzled into her side with a purr. Sandstorm felt so warm, watching them. Their mingling pelts looked like the beginning of a storm, all grays and whites and darks and lights. 

"You look just like a little rain-cloud," Fireheart mewed fondly, echoing her thoughts, poking a paw into Cloud's exposed flank.

The kit yelped a laugh, muffling his giggles into Cinderpelt's fur. He wriggled away from his adopted father, circling Cinderpelt and hiding his face in his paws.

Sandstorm caught the other warriors' shared look and laughed into her paw. In tandem, the two rounded on the kit, nuzzling and poking and laughing with him. It was adorable, Sandstorm thought, to see them all together. The love she saw between them made her heart feel so, so, so warm. Happy, even.

Eventually, they stopped lovingly bullying the kit; Cloud's little pink nose peeked out between dark paws, a giggle still shaking his shoulders. Sandstorm couldn't see his face, but she just knew he was smiling wide. So cute.

She couldn't wait to teach him.

Sandstorm stood with a yawn, shaking out her fur. Somehow, her foot had fallen asleep; she shook it, too, vaguely annoyed at the feeling.

"Same," Fireheart sighed. " 's been a long night."

Sandstorm snorted good-naturedly; she could imagine, seeing as he'd had to arrange everything for a name ceremony, patrols, hunt rotations, and stars knew what else deputies had to do. She wasn't envious in the least.

"Go get some rest!" Cinderpelt pushed her head into Fireheart's flank, urging him (and Cloud) toward the nursery. "I'll protect the camp, don't you worry about a thing."

" 'kay, bye Cinda!" Cloud purred, body now wholly pressed into Fireheart's side. "Seeya later!"

Fireheart rolled his eyes but gave in to his apprentice's demand. He flicked his tail, a silent goodbye, dipped his head at Sandstorm, and they left. She watched them stumble a little on the way, Fireheart supporting his kit, Cloud taking shameless advantage in turn. It made her smile.

"Sleep well, you two," Sandstorm called a belated farewell at their retreating forms. Glanced at Cinderpelt, and gave her a nod. "And, congratulations, again. I'm very proud of you."

"Hehe, thank you," the gray warrior smiled at her, pride in the way she stood tall, in her raised tail; more than ready to stand watch for the clan, Sandstorm figured.

Sandstorm nodded once more before turning to the warriors den. What a busy night it had been, she mused. But, it had been good.

She settled into her nest with a light sigh. Her clanmates breathed around her, a loud kind of quiet, familiar and comforting.

Very good indeed.

Chapter Text

Fireheart knew he was dreaming the moment he opened his eyes to green. Green grass, green trees, green everything.

Irritating.

He closed his eyes. Sighed through his nose. Why was he in Starclan, again? Did they have it out for him? Was it funny? To Fireheart, it was extremely annoying. He would rather be awake, or patrolling Thunderclan; he would rather be the center of attention at Four-trees, he would rather be freezing his tail off in the late snow-fall storm he had fallen asleep to than be here again-

"Heya Fireheart!" The greeting startled him, but that voice...

Redtail.

Fireheart turned, slowly, to the star-pelted tortoiseshell. 

"Haha, don't look so dour!" Redtail grinned at him with his tail raised high. "I promise, I called you here for a reason, no need to be so angry!"

Fireheart sighed again. Tried to fix his face, to stop scowling. Failed.

Ugh.

"What do you want, Redtail," he asked flatly, keeping his eyes closed. He wasn't truly upset with the deputy, after all, didn't want to be, but. Just once, he thought, just once he would like to have a nice, uneventful dream. About hunting, maybe. About literally anything else.

"Well," Redtail began, obnoxiously drawing out the word, "I wanted to talk to you about our little deal, remember?"

Fireheart opened his eyes. Glittering gold was suddenly far too close; way, way too close. He pushed the deputy back with a heavy paw to the face, ignoring his sputtering laugh.

This cat is way too comfortable in my space, Fireheart thought, growling under his breath. He drew a deep breath, let it out in yet another sigh.

"I remember," he nodded. Their 'deal' wasn't at the forefront of his mind every night, no, but he hadn't forgotten. It still aggravated him when he thought about that confusing conversation, and it had happened moons ago. He was working on it.

"And?" Redtail sat, still far too close in Fireheart's opinion, elegant tail curled over his paws like a show-cat. "Tell me about my family, Fire-cat, go on."

Fireheart paused. He only really knew of Redtail's littermate, Willowpelt. Were there others?

"Well," he tried, "Willowpelt joined the den recently? She's been nice enough so far, I don't know her that well yet. She's good with Cloud, though."

"Good, good," Redtail smiled. For once, the expression was pleasant, sitting well on his handsome face. It squinted his eyes in a way that was almost familiar-

"And what of Sandstorm?" He continued, tapping his tail and tilting his head, eyes unerringly on Fireheart. And, ah. That's what it was.

"She's your kit," Fireheart said, not really asking, ears burning the longer that gold stare bored into him. He knew there was something he was missing! He saw so much of Sandstorm in Redtail, it was a wonder- but, no, he hadn't gotten to really know her until recently, and she had never brought it up. And neither had Redtail, for that matter. 

(Privately, he wondered, with all the incredulity in the world, why these cats never told him things that were relevant. It seriously annoyed him.)

"She is indeed!" Another squinted eye-smile, a fash of teeth visible when it widened. "So? Tell me about her. What's she like, how is she, all that. Go on."

"She's. Quiet, I guess?" Fireheart watched himself paw at the ground, trying to think. After a moment, he continued. "We don't actually talk much, but we hunt together a lot. She's really good at it, I think it's her specialty? Could be any kind of weather and she'd find something, no doubt. Uh, she likes kits, but that might just be Cloud? Me and Bluestar, we wanted her to be his mentor. I think she's really looking forward to it," he nodded at the other deputy, who was frozen with rapt attention. "Um, yeah, again, we really don't talk a lot, and she used to hate me for being a human pet for like six moons, but. I think we're friends? She almost fell into the gorge by Riverclan, you know the one, during a battle a while ago, and it was for a stupid reason anyway. But she's fine, obviously. We hang out with Whitestorm a lot too, and Sandstorm really respects him, but it's funny to watch them argue, because they're like 'yes my most diligent apprentice' and 'oh, my dear mentor, how could you' and it's hilarious."

Fireheart paused for breath. Redtail sat silently, a slight smile on his face, eyes far away but so, so fond, and.

Oh.

Fireheart cleared his throat, ears warm.

Redtail jerked in place, seemingly remembering he wasn't alone. His eyes found Fireheart's, swimming with some unfathomable emotion. He breathed deep, tail flicking as he stood. His face, suddenly so serious, came ever closer as he padded forward, stopping only when they were nose to nose.

Fireheart's breath caught; his vision was filled with nothing but starry tortoiseshell fur and gold, gold eyes. 

"Thank you, Fireheart," Redtail murmured. "Thank you." He dipped his head to the side, almost brushing his nose against Fireheart's, touch feather-light where he pressed their cheeks together, and Fireheart had forgotten how to breathe.

He dragged in a breath when Redtail backed away. He swallowed.

"You're welcome," he said, hopefully not as breathlessly as he felt.

Redtail just dipped his head gratefully, sitting back down. He started to say something, stopped, head suddenly jerking to the side, obviously hearing something Fireheart couldn't. 

Fireheart waited.

"Well, that's certainly something," Redtail muttered after a moment. His bright eyes met Fireheart's, serious.

"You have to go. They said, 'clouds have left the sky.' "

"O-okay?" Fireheart tilted his head, a lot confused, but not really wanting to question it. Starclan was weird.

"Yeah, I don't know either," Redtail shrugged. "But you've gotta go, so, we'll have another chat later, bye now!"

And Fireheart was gone.

_______

Cloud was cold.

He didn't want to be out here. He was too young for this. They were breaking some kind of rule, he just knew it. They weren't even apprentices yet! But, Ashkit couldn't say no to his sister when Fernkit had the idea to go hunting, to sneak out, and Cloud couldn't say no to the twins when they ganged up on him; they were older, he was the baby, blah blah. They weren't even that much older! And really, he could've said no, or just stayed in camp, he knew this, but.

Cloud wanted to help, was the thing.

Fireheart had just looked so tired lately, all strained smiles and "I'm alright, storm-cloud," and "don't worry about me," and "kits should worry about kit things," and Cloud may be young but he can tell when someone is lying to him. Fireheart was his papa, his father, adopted parent, whatever, the point was, Cloud was worried about him, and he had figured, why not join his siblings, why not try to find some prey, or maybe an herb that would be useful? What was the worst that could happen?

He regretted it now.

His paws felt halfway to frozen, his pelt blended far too easily in the snow, and he couldn't even try to hear his siblings over the wind. He wasn't ready to be out on his own! Brindleface or Fireheart had always gone with them, and he was scared. He was lost, and cold, and, and alone.

Cloud looked around, squinting hard, trying to find something, anything, anyone, but there was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Nothing but the writhing snow yanked along with the wind, the cold biting through his fur and freezing his nose.

He couldn't scent them like this!

He shivered; from the cold, from fear, from the anxious jitters in his belly. Cloud pushed through the snow and found a hulking tree to shelter against. He remembered Fireheart, once, telling him "if you ever get lost, find a spot and sit! Call for help, but stay in one place, so we can find you better okay?" and thinking about Fireheart made him so upset. He wanted to go home, lay in their nest, be warm.

He wanted home; he wanted Brindleface; he wanted Fireheart.

Nobody heard his cries, snatched away by the howling wind.

__

Sandstorm woke up rather abruptly to the sound of cats screeching at each other. She stood, shaking out her fur; if there was yelling, she needed to be there. She heard Cinderpelt and Dustpelt get up as well. Caught Cinderpelt's worried look as they heard Fireheart's shriek of rage.

They left the den, Dustpelt on their heels.

"We don't send parents on search parties, Brindleface, you know this!" Bluestar was saying to the gray warrior snarling in her face, claws gripping the ground. The leader's tail was fluffed to the max, ears bent flat against the wind buffeting them all with freezing snow.

Sandstorm squinted, trying to see where- ah. Fireheart was all but pinned to the ground, with Whitestorm doing the pinning. The deputy was writhing underneath the white warrior, growling deep and loud. She heard Whitestorm murmuring lowly to him, but couldn't make anything out over the wind.

But wait, what was that about search parties? Were kits missing?! In this weather?

Sandstorm made her way over to her leader, dread filling her. Surely not. Surely, surely, surely not. Please, let me be wrong.

"They're my kits! Our kits!" Brindleface looked close to attacking Bluestar; her muzzle wrinkled in the scariest expression Sandstorm had ever seen on her face. "They're our children, we need to find them!"

"And we will!" Bluestar yowled back. "But you two will not be looking!"

Fireheart just snarled wordlessly, still struggling underneath Whitestorm. Deep clawmarks scoured the ground around them, and Sandstorm shivered a little.

"We'll go," Cinderpelt broke in, standing tall. The cold didn't seem to bother her, with her thick pelt. Brindleface swung her head around to the three of them, teeth still bared in threat.

"Good, good," Bluestar meowed brusquely with a nod. "We're missing Fernkit, Ashkit, and Cloud. Nobody saw them leave, but their scents linger, go!"

The warriors shared a quick glance, Sandstorm shooting one last worried look at Whitestorm and the still-snarling, feral deputy, and left.

There were kits to find.

__

Cloud didn't know how long he'd been dozing against his tree, but a flash of color through the snow caught his attention fast. He startled to his paws and called out as loud as he could, hoping hoping hoping it was a warrior trying to find him, to take him home.

To his great relief, it was. Sandstorm's familiar scent hit his nose; he kept calling out, hoping she could hear him. He didn't want to move from his spot, but maybe he should?

He was saved from his indecision a few moments later, Sandstorm fully appearing out of the storm like one of Yellowfang's spirit-stories. She immediately made for him, no words dripping from her jaws but relief in her yellow-green eyes as they met his. He felt more than heard her purr as she picked him up by the scruff; and maybe he was getting too big for Fireheart to do it, but Sandstorm hefted him off the ground so easily. He let himself be carried, her easy lope through the forest soothing him.

Sandstorm's grip was firm but gentle, teeth not so much as touching his skin through his ruff of fur. His body automatically curled inward; he was so so cold. He didn't even find anything for Fireheart, he realized. He let out a pitiful mew at the thought, but Sandstorm purred away, comforting him. 

Eventually, they made it to the camp's entrance. Cloud blearily blinked up at it; why had they stopped?

"You found him!" Cinderpelt! Gray-fur-big sister!

She hurried over through the snow, a squirming Fernkit clenched in her maw. A tall brown cat was on her heel, Ashkit swinging from his jaws with the sourest frown Cloud had ever seen on his brother's face. He blinked again; Fernkit was holding something- a mouse? So she did find something, Cloud thought, a little awed.

Cloud was jostled as Sandstorm nodded.

He watched the other two warriors carry his siblings through the tunnel, vaguely hearing Fernkit squalling indignantly. What did she have to be mad about, she at least caught something. He blinked sleepily; Sandstorm shook him a little in her grip, a soft growl rumbling her chest.

"Stay awake, little kit," he heard her murmur as she carried him forward through the tunnel. He could only purr in response; he was so cold.

The tunnel widened, revealing the rest of camp, the nursery; Sandstorm's even gait faltered only slightly when Fireheart all but whipped his head around, a fierce frown on his face, eyes blazing in fury. He remained standing by Brindleface as they approached, who was shouting loud enough Cloud could very clearly hear-

"- were you even doing out there alone?!" She yowled, fur bristling wildly.

Sandstorm set Cloud down by his siblings and he immediately missed her warmth, shivering and cowering under his Papa's glare.

Fernkit opened her mouth, but Brindleface cut her off.

"Has nothing we taught you stuck?! Kits are not to hunt!" Brindleface all but screeched at the three of them, fur bushed out and tail lashing and she looked so scared. "What if you died?"

Fireheart's eyes were cold, green ice piercing into Cloud, and he- broke.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed, "I just wanted- I wanted to help, you've been so tired, and I just-" a sob, "Papa, sorry, sorry..."

"Oh, my kit, my little storm-cloud," Fireheart murmured, ice thawing from his gaze, pulling him forward roughly into his belly and purring hard enough to rattle Cloud's bones. The kit could do nothing but sob into his fur, relieved he was finally found, that he was finally home, and warm.

"You scared me so, so badly," Fireheart whispered into his ear, just for him to hear. Cloud felt him shudder, and whimpered. He was sorry, he didn't mean to worry anyone, so, so sorry-

"Hush, hush, you're alright," Fireheart soothed him, purring steadily. "You're alright, see? You're home, you're safe."

"...alone," Cloud whispered, ears flat to his head.

"What?" Fireheart sounded lost.

"They left me alone," he sniffed into his Papa's fur, shivering. He hadn't realized it at the time, thought he had just gotten lost, but. There was no way they hadn't, they had found prey, and he was all alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Fireheart snarling; he jerked his head up, eyes wide. Papa was- 

"No, no, hush, kit, not at you, never at you," Fireheart reassured him with a wince, growl petering into a rough purr once more as he nuzzled Cloud's head. "Your mama and I, we'll handle it, okay?"

"Mmkay," Cloud sighed. Fireheart could handle anything, he thought. Nothing was so reassuring as that, couldn't even hope to come close.

"Now," Fireheart stood, beckoning him with a paw and a head tilt, "let's get you warm and in bed, how's that sound?"

"Mm." Cloud stood on shaky paws, sniffing.

Fireheart nudged him in the side, said something above his head he couldn't catch, and let him lean on him as they made their way into the den. His papa laid down, eyes soft as Cloud climbed in beside him, a purr rumbling his chest.

"I love you so much," Fireheart said, sounding a little choked, "please, please never scare me like that again." He shifted a little, draping his tail over Cloud, a fluffy red barrier against the rest of the world.

" 'm sorry," Cloud mewed, voice tiny, snuggling in further. "Love you, papa."

"Sleep," Fireheart crooned at him. "I'll be here."

Cloud nosed his way under Fireheart's paws, warm warm warm. 

Soft fur and feathers and moss and his papa's purring lulling him, he barely noticed as he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Fireheart, Brindleface, and Goldenflower were in a Parent Meeting, of sorts.

Sat outside Thunderclan in a snow-free spot, the three warriors (see: Fireheart and Brindleface) had wanted to discuss what to do with their wayward offspring. Bluestar had been invited, but she had declined (to Goldenflower's dismay- this was so funny to watch), citing a prior engagement. Goldenflower invited herself. She also could spot a liar when she saw one- their leader just didn't want to be involved with family drama.

Fireheart crouched to Goldenflower's left, Brindleface tense and upright to his left, making a nice and neat little circle of them. Goldenflower herself was laid out at ease mostly on her side, tail flipping over her back paws every so often to cover them from the night's wind.

Goldenflower watched her two friends converse in one-word sentences with her head supported by a paw, ears and eyes volleying back and forth between them as they spoke.

"So."

"Mhm."

"Yeah."

"We..."

"Yeah." 

There was a long silence, broken only by the wind in the bare trees above them. Goldenflower watched Fireheart and Brindleface frown at each other silently. Her whiskers twitched in private laughter.

"We can just..." Fireheart began again, clawing at the dirt under his paws. Goldenflower thought he looked tense enough to snap like a tree limb in a storm- she huffed a breath through her nose.

"But can't we..." Brindleface started when it was clear Fireheart had nothing else to say, but it seemed she, too, had no words, and trailed off into the same strained silence they had began with. It was enough to make Goldenflower sigh again, louder. 

As entertaining as this was, it was a little sad that her fierce and clever friends couldn't come up with a suitable punishment for three kits. Start with what you know, Goldenflower figured. They had all grown up in Thunderclan- physical punishment was a no-go. Was banned, even. And clearing out the elders' den was hardly a task to undertake, not to mention spending time with their older kin was something to be cherished and not seen as a bad thing. Returning to apprentices was out too, seeing as the ones in trouble were kits.

...Maybe she didn't have a leg to stand on, either. Hm.

Wait.

"Well," she drew the word out, instantly nabbing her friends' attention (did Fireheart's neck just crack? She wasn't kidding about the branch thing, stars above) and idly tapping her tail along the ground, "Maybe you could have them shadow a few warriors?"

"Ah?"

"Wait why."

"They'll see how much work it is to keep up with grown cats, I guess?" She tipped her head to the side, flipped her tail, meaning what can you do? "Might make more of an impact that way, not just words."

Brindleface blinked. Turned to look at Fireheart, slowly. He met her eyes, and, equally slowly, shoved his head into his paws with a low, annoyed-sounding groan. The gray warrior tilted her head back to stare at the sky silently.

"You fluff brains!" Goldenflower groaned, exasperated. "Two of the smartest cats I know, overthinking and overcomplicating!"

Brindleface bristled at her, annoyance clear in her flat ears, her dark eyes when they met Goldenflower's, but didn't deny it. Her frown could melt ice! Fireheart was useless- nothing but a lump where he lay, a near soundless "aaaaaaaaugh" emerging from under his paws.

Goldenflower stood with a sigh, shook out her fur. Sat back down, tail elegantly curled over her front paws like she sees Whitestorm do every so often. She was friends with these cats, loved them even, but stars above.

"I get it, I do," she mewed, "but honestly, sometimes it really is that simple with kits! Swiftpaw always needed more paws-on guidance, and you know how he is." 

She heard a muffled snort from Fireheart, who had yet to emerge from his weird crouch, and rolled her eyes. Brindleface, wisely, chose to keep silent, but her eyes squinted with humor.

"Anyway," Goldenflower ignored them in favor of grooming a paw, "what I mean is, usually the simple things work out best. You two think and think and think!" She paused to frown at them both. "You don't have to do everything by yourselves, you know?"

Fireheart finally sat up, a dark shadow in his eyes. He didn't look like he believed her. Goldenflower met his darkness with her own, a growl building in her chest- she was his friend and would help him if he only told her he needed it. She was seriously going to box his ears if he denied it again.

(She wouldn't, but she would want to.)

"I'm," Fireheart faltered, swallowing. His eyes went wide like they had been when he was just a kit, one day into Thunderclan. Brindleface sat quietly, gaze now on the ground, but her ears were at full attention on them both.

"I can't-" Fireheart's eyes darted between her and Brindleface, and it broke her heart to see him hesitating so much say he needed help. Who had burnt him so bad it took this much effort to be honest? It made her seethe, the force of it burning through her chest, to think of anyone hurting him, hurting them, her friends. 

"I'm trying," Fireheart choked out at last. "I- we're here, aren't we?" His tail wrapped close to his body, a painfully defensive posture. 

"You are, and I'm glad, but Fireheart I joined in on my own, neither of you asked-"

"Hey, hey, wait," Brindleface raised a paw, cutting them both off sharply. "We're not gonna argue about this, okay? We're here now, and," her voice shook, a little, "and we're asking, now, so..." She trailed off, ears bent low again. 

Goldenflower sat back with a sigh. She didn't mean to start an argument, but. Stars.

"Sorry," she dipped her head at them with a regretful grimace. 

"Me too," Fireheart murmured back. 

A long silence embraced them. None of them looking at each other, waiting for their fur and nerves to settle, tension slowly dissipating as the wind whispered gently around them, tickling their whiskers with promises of warmer weather to come.

"I think," Brindleface broke the silence, all flinching a little, "since we're friends, and den-mates, we should just. Ignore the asking."

Goldenflower opened her mouth, but Brindleface cut her off again hastily, sensing her aggravation.

"I mean, it would be alright with me, and Fireheart," she glanced at him, nodding, "if you wanted to be more involved with our kits. If you want."

Goldenflower blinked. 

"I know this isn't just about our kits, but we're going to try, Goldie, we promise!" Brindleface's voice raised a little with her desire to get Goldenflower to believe her, and that just.

Goldenflower sighed, deeply. She stood, ignoring her friends' wary looks, and sat between them, paws reaching and pulling until they both were snuggled tightly against her. She purred at them, her two dear mouse-brained friends, sore-hearted. They were independent to a fault, relying on nothing but themselves and each other, and it made her equally sad and angry. What was the point of living in a clan if you couldn't rely on your family, your friends? If you felt alone no matter how many cats you surrounded yourself with?

Their kits' misadventure might have brought this issue to light, but Goldenflower had no doubts about this being very much an ongoing problem with them. Despite the gap in age, as negligible as it may be, Brindleface and Fireheart were painfully similar- avoidant tendencies and abrasive natures weren't even the least of it, she was sure. Not that it bothered Goldenflower; if it did they wouldn't be friends. But she could see how it left their mark on the two cats and their relationships with others, with their kits even, struggling so much to be honest, regardless about needing help, and she was not going to let that go, thank you very much. 

But perhaps it would be fine for now to leave them be, about that. Nothing good ever came of shaming a cat when they already felt bad about something. All she could really do to convince her friends was be there for them, so that was what she was going to do.

"Alright," she sighed again. "I'll leave you alone about it. For now. And, of course I want to be more involved with your kits, I love them!" She brushed her cheeks against Fireheart first, then Brindleface, laughing softly at their twin noises of confusion.

"They're little devils, honestly," Brindleface murmured after a moment, head leaning into Goldenflower's shoulder. "I don't know what to do with them sometimes."

"Then you're lucky I came along! Not like you two fluff-heads would've come up with something this moon anyway," Goldenflower jeered at them, nothing in her voice but fondness.

Fireheart's protest was muffled by her fur, but since he didn't bother raising his head for it she ignored him completely. Brindleface just rolled her eyes; Goldenflower couldn't see her face but she knew. She snapped playfully at her gray friend, teeth missing by a fox-tail. 

"I love you guys a lot," Fireheart broke in, voice a low murmur but ringing with honesty, face still pressed into Goldenflower's fur; even harder now, after saying something like that. It made her want to coo at him. So precious, her friend was.

"Aww."

"Shut up, Brindleface."

"Come over here and make me then!"

"No," Goldenflower cut them off, "we're going to stay here until you guys cheer up, I've decided."

"Why."

"Noooo."

"Ah, isn't this weather so lovely?" Goldenflower asked nobody, talking over the two warriors busy pretending they weren't stuck to her sides and soaking up the contact like they'd never been touched before. "I can't wait until Newleaf, and rain! Oh, how I miss rain, the sound it makes hitting the top of our dens is just perfect."

("Is she-"

"Ignoring us, yeah."

"Spirits save us."

"Oh, hush.")

"-so tired of all of this snow, and the cold! Oh, hello," Goldenflower interrupted herself, acting as if she had just now noticed the warriors snuggled in her fur.

"...hi," Fireheart's tree-shade green eyes looked up at her, craning his neck a little to meet her gaze. Brindleface's equally dark green eyes, more akin to sunlight-bright yew leaves, also sought her friends', hunching a bit to the side to see around Goldenflower's bulk. So precious, she thought with a purr.

"Okay?" She asked them quietly. No pretenses, just genuinely wanting to know.

In response, Fireheart hummed. Brindleface's tail flipped noncommittally.

Well, that wouldn't do.

"Alright then!" She stood suddenly, tipping her friends over with the movement and ignoring their yelps. "Let's go hunting!"

"Ah? I already did this evening though-"

"Noooo."

"Hush, you two," Goldenflower shushed them. Looked at them both, their gray and red fur in disarray, twin sets of widened green eyes keen on her face.

Smiled.

"Ah."

"Alright. Fine, I guess."

"Hop to it then, you slow slugs!" Goldenflower took off through the trees. The sounds of her friends scrambling up to follow her made her laugh a little. She kept up her pace, only slowing down to cross a small stream. Stopping on the other side she shook off her paws and waited for her companions with a high tail.

"Cinderpelt and Willowpelt can't watch our kits forever, you know!" She called, laughing loudly at them as they caught up and stumbled across the water with matching groans.

"My paws weren't wet and cold, before, Goldenflower." Fireheart shook said paws at her after he crossed, an annoyed grimace painting his face. Brindleface shook her head.

"It's just a little water, you won't die," she shoved at him playfully, gently for her, ignoring his not-as-playful snap of teeth when she passed him by.

Goldenflower herself was unbothered by the wet or cold, blessed with thick fur and a bias for the cold season; she couldn't help but laugh at his aggravation.

"I am beset by evil," Fireheart complained in that funny holier-than-thou way he has, overly dramatic and obviously trying to force himself out of a bad mood. Goldenflower could tell. "I simply cannot go on, these dark forces are attacking me, forcing me to withstand nasty, cold, freezing water on my delicate little paws-"

"Oh hush, you," Brindleface giggled, brushing a cheek against his side with a rumbling purr. Goldenflower strode over to join them, her own purr low and steady. Her head pressing against her friend, she felt more than heard his deep inhale, the blustery sigh following it. 

"I'm alright," Fireheart hummed, after the silence stretched for maybe too long, but who was Goldenflower to say, really?

"Yeah? Me too," Brindleface mewed softly, picking her head back up. She looked steadier, to Goldenflower's relief. They both did. Even she felt more settled in her skin. She pulled back with a smile, tail swinging gamely.

"Let's go hunt!"

Fireheart huffed a soft laugh but nodded. Brindleface smiled back at her, dark eyes gleaming like little stones in a pond when the moonlight caught them. She gestured with a paw, a silent go ahead, then.

Goldenflower led the way through the forest, quietly, more at ease than before and listening to her companions' footfalls, and thought.

Thank the stars these two bird-brained cats had her in their lives; she couldn't even imagine what they would be like if they didn't have her, or each other, to lean on. The idea that they'd be worse than they were now made Goldenflower shudder. With rage, with love, with the need to protect them, or all three, or maybe more, she didn't know.

She just loved them. She just wanted them to be happy.

She sighed, looking up at the nearly full moon. She listened to Fireheart's quiet commentary, Brindleface's cool observations, and felt love for them engulf her til she thought her heart would burst. She thanked the stars she could see that when her friends had needed her, she was there for them. Goldenflower could only hope that next time they would see fit to actually tell her, but she figured it was a work in progress.

She tried to put it out of her mind, tried to focus on the now as much as the hunt they were on. Thought of her friends' kits, and their up-coming punishment detail- she wanted to be there when they told Bluestar.

She wanted to see which warriors Fireheart would inflict their kits on. She was going to laugh so much.

Chapter Text

Longtail sat by the warrior's den contemplating his life. A pigeon lay at his paws, halfway eaten, featherdown in a neat pile by his tail.

Fireheart, with Bluestar's okay, had chosen Longtail, Runningwind, and Mousefur to teach his and Brindleface's kits their lesson. It was bizarre.

Mousefur and Runningwind he could understand; the littermates were quite well-known for being very no-nonsense, and avid followers of the warrior code. They were honestly good choices for any teaching role. But him?

Longtail had never been Fireheart's friend, had never thought he'd amount to much at all back when he'd first been brought to the clan, a skinny, tiny little whelp too smart for his own good and with no respect for his elders. And now he's grown, deputy even, and Longtail has no idea what to make of him now.

So it was weird, alright? It was weird that this cat who he's done nothing but butt heads with almost their entire lives is now telling (asking) him to teach his kit about the consequences of his actions, so is he trying to to say something here? He stared blankly at his half de-feathered bird.

Was Fireheart the manipulative type now? Trying to make Longtail "see the errors of his ways" with how he'd treated him? 

When he went to Goldenflower about this, all she had to say was "If you actually talked with him without spitting insults, he might surprise you, Longtail. Give it a shot!" It made him want to roll his eyes so far back he broke something, because what in the stars' name was he supposed to do with that? He already knew that! It was just. Their deputy was unapproachable, sharp and gruff with everyone who wasn't his kit, exhaustion perpetually hanging over him like a dark cloud. How could someone even begin to approach that? Fireheart had made no effort to get along with Longtail himself (not that he could blame him, honestly; he was self-aware enough to realize he was at least partly to blame for their deputy's distant behavior), they didn't know each other, and he had no idea what to do with a kit. Swiftpaw was different, he was family, his apprentice, his little brother, and he just. Didn't want to mess up.

Longtail was so confused.

He was saved from his twisting thoughts by Sandstorm, who was pushing her way through the camp entrance, jaws laden with prey. Ah! Ah! He could ask her! She was friends with Fireheart, and she had treated him badly when they were apprentices too, surely she knew something.

"Hey, Sandstorm," he called, not quite looking at her face when she glanced at him curiously. He tipped his head to the side, flipped his tail toward himself; a silent come here, please. She narrowed her eyes at him but nodded, putting her prey down on the pile with a short, satisfied sigh. Padded over to him but favored a paw slightly; must've been a long hunt. Or just taxing. Longtail shook his head, forcing his gaze back down to his bird.

"Hm?" She sat down next to him with her tail curing over her paws. 

"Well," Longtail hesitated. How to ask this without sounding weird? Sometimes she was too much like Whitestorm, down to the air of judgement, that it was hard to talk to her, too, stars above. Or maybe he was just thinking too much about all of this. Oh, spit it out already, Sandstorm won't wait forever-

"How do you talk to Fireheart?" He blurted, cringing at himself.

Sandstorm blinked. Tilted her head at him, her yellow-green eyes narrowing when they met his. After a moment she looked away, a short hum rumbling her throat.

"We don't, honestly."

"Huh?" What.

"Mhm," she nodded, staring into the distance. "Well, actually, let me correct. We don't usually talk alone. When Whitestorm is there we do."

"How does that work?" He had to know. 

"Dunno," she shrugged, turning to face him again. "It's just easier if he's there, like a buffer."

Longtail paused. Considered this.

"He's good friends with Goldenflower," Sandstorm continued, surprisingly. "Fireheart, I mean. And you are too, right?"

He could only nod, wondering where she was going with this.

"Then ask her to be there with you, bee brain," Sandstorm rolled her eyes, as if it was an obvious conclusion to come to. He watched her groom a paw in silence, considering it. Then, a thought occured to him-

"Hey, you're close with his kit, right? Gonna be his mentor?" Longtail had heard rumors, but it didn't hurt to make sure. Fireheart may not talk to just anybody, but official clan business was everyone's business.

"Sure am." Sandstorm shot him a small eye-smile, paws outstretched now into a bow. She looked excited, which. Odd, for her, to show it. 

"Then," he paused, wondering briefly if this was overstepping on his part, on Fireheart's, to ask Longtail to teach his kit, but pressed on, "how do you talk with him?"

"Why- oh yeah, that whole thing. Ha, he picked you?" She muffled a laugh into her paws.

"Don't laugh at me," he groused, "what am I supposed to teach a kit? Why me?" His tail twitched in agitation, anxiety; as much as he didn't like Fireheart personally, he didn't want to mess up teaching a kit, he would look awful and he would feel awful.

"Sounds like something you should talk with Fireheart and Goldenflower about," Sandstorm mewed airily, tossing her head. But then she paused, giving him a considering look. What could she be seeing?

"Be kind to him," she said firmly, eyes serious and mouth set.

"I," Longtail faltered, caught. He knew what she meant, what she was getting at. And it should be easy, it should be so simple, and yet. The disdain for kittypets all clan cats had, what he was taught was right, was hard to let go of. His own mentor, and his mentor before him, hated kittypets. He had grown up believing them completely, blindly. But now... Longtail's ears bent back.

Recently, he'd been having thoughts. Thoughts like, what if Darkstripe was wrong, and what if that unspoken part of the code was wrong? Many cats born to the clans ended up much worse than simply being kittypets- Brokenstar came to mind. Tigerclaw came to mind. He wanted to be nothing like them. And if he couldn't treat a kit fairly, no matter where it was from, what kind of warrior would that make him? Certainly not good. What even makes a good warrior, blood or effort? Something about that thought sounded like Bluestar.

Sandstorm was still looking at him, but she didn't look angry. Assessing him, maybe. Or maybe she was just waiting on him to finish his thought.

"I'll try," Longtail eventually mewed awkwardly, painfully aware of himself, a little ashamed, a lot anxious.

"All I can ask," the sandy warrior shrugged, finally looking away from him. Stars, but Sandstorm was intense sometimes. She either avoided meeting cats' gazes or stared, and rarely anything in-between. She poked at his pigeon with a paw.

"Hey," Longtail warned mildly. He wasn't very hungry anymore, but that was his.

"Finish it then." She poked the bird again.

"I will, quit touching it!" He snapped his teeth at her, trying for playful, but he was kind of serious, stars knew how he actually came across-

"Pff, sure," she scoffed at him. She abandoned her game, standing to her full height with a nod to his prey. "Share it with Goldenflower, then. I'm going to bed."

"Oh, uh," Longtail stammered, "okay?" Was she upset with him? He peered at her, trying to see- her jaws cracked open in a massive yawn. Ah. Just tired, then.

"Mm. Good morning."

"Good morning," he echoed belatedly, nodding farewell. He watched her pad into the warriors den in silence.

Longtail returned to staring blankly at his pigeon the moment he saw her tail-tip vanish. He thought of how he could approach Fireheart, and really, asking Goldenflower to mediate sounded like a good idea, and maybe they'd have some kind of idea on how to teach a kit, much less talk to one he wasn't related to, and maybe Fireheart wouldn't be so chilly with him if he talked with him normally, without insulting him? He would try. He would try.

It was the least he could do.

Chapter Text

When everything became too much, too busy in his head that moving didn't fix, Cloud tried to go through the pawsteps of a task one by one. To slow him down, or something. To ease the gross feeling in his belly that made him shake, nervous and upset for no real reason at all.

So. Pawsteps. What did he usually do?

Well. In a night, he would wake up, groom his fur free of feathers, or Fireheart would. Find something to eat (usually his parents did that, but sometimes Swiftpaw brought something by,) and follow Fireheart around camp as he gave their clanmates their usual orders until he went hunting by himself. Then Cloud would find Brindleface, usually around the camp entrance with Fernkit and sometimes Ashkit, and Mama would take them to little nice places in the forest. And when they got back to camp, usually they all ate something and laid down for a nap. And sometimes, Fireheart would join them, but not always. And then after that, Cloud and his siblings would play, teasing and testing each other and play-biting and fighting and arguing in the manner of all littermates. And Sandstorm would come play too! And then the tall brown cat, Dust-something, would come watch, and big sister Cinderpelt would come too, and he always had fun when she was around.

And sometimes, and this was the best part, sometimes Fireheart would take Cloud out of camp all by himself and they would spend time together, and he would teach him things! Sometimes Cloud really would rather play instead, but Fireheart was so busy, and sometimes just too tired, or sad, so Cloud understood. 

He wanted to understand more, but when he asked all his dad ever said was "You don't need to worry about me, rain-cloud." It was annoying! He wanted to grow up already, being a kit was the worst.

And he was thinking about all of this because his punishment was starting today and instead of walking around in circles and worrying his parents, Cloud figured he would just. Sit. And think in circles, instead.

His paws absently kneaded the ground under him, claws raking up bits of grass and small stones. The camp was as quiet as it ever was, meaning not very, but it was all distant, vague noise to him. A stray leaf twirled down from above.

Hmm. 

Brindleface had told him, when he asked, that Fernkit and Ashkit had separate teachers for their punishments, and he got the feeling that his was a little bit... Different? Thinking about it now, he remembered seeing two darkish-brown cats talking with his parents, their stern faces the only thing that really stood out to him at the time. He never got close enough to hear them talking, but he could read body language well enough. They didn't look mean, but...

"Serves them right if they are," he huffed quietly. He was still really mad at them.

And speaking of teachers, who even was Longtail? Long-tail? Long Tail. Who was that. Every time he heard that name, Fireheart always got a really weird look on his face, kind of a grimace, kind of a pinched look? Like someone was squeezing his face between their paws. Or like that time he bit into something unexpectedly squishy and couldn't spit it out. Just kinda... Icky.

The only cats Cloud knew could be counted on a single paw, using the pads. He kinda knew of some others, but both Brindleface and Fireheart rarely brought their kits out to just meet Thunderclan warriors out of nowhere; too many cats around made Ashkit nervous, Fernkit kinda upset, and Cloud himself vaguely nauseous. It was scary being center of attention to a bunch of big warriors, and he was ignoring that he was almost as big as Fireheart, now.

But maybe this all would be good for him and his littermates, even if he was mad at them. A look into what a real warrior does! Going out into the forest! It was exciting, even if his belly was twisting. 

Pawsteps vibrated the ground nearby. He turned his head-

Fernkit?

His sister padded closer, tail up but ears angled back, spotted fur a little dusty. Her pale eyes were on him, narrowed with some kind of feeling. Cloud looked away.

He felt her come to sit beside him. Silently.

Ugh.

"What do you want," Cloud asked tonelessly, eyes fixed on a far-away tree swaying in the evening breeze. Forcing her to speak louder, and maybe it was mean, but he wasn't feeling very nice.

"Nothing, I guess," Fernkit mewed at him. He saw her in his peripheral, kneading the ground. Cloud's ears pressed close to his skull, muting everything further.

They sat in strained silence for a few very long heartbeats. Fernkit sighed, heavily enough for him to feel it where she was almost pressed against his flank. She reached out, tapped a paw on the ground in front of them.

Cloud glanced over at her.

'Sorry,' she mouthed. Her eyes squinted sadly, mouth a slight grimace.

Cloud stared at her, eyes flicking over her body language briefly; his mouth opened, closed. He settled on a nod. He didn't forgive her, not yet.

But.

"Okay," he murmured, looking away. His tail curled closer to his body, tapped once, twice. "I'm still mad at you. But thanks."

"Alright," Fernkit knocked their shoulders together before standing and shaking her fur out. Bits of clumped dust and sand landed on Cloud's pelt; he sputtered at her. She ignored him.

"Just wanted to say it, is all," she mewed. And, after catching his eye, "Good luck tonight." It sounded a lot like 'see you later'.

Cloud nodded again, watched her lope off, meeting the short brown cat standing impatiently by the camp entrance who's name was definitely Mouse. Probably. Or maybe that was Runner? Runney? His whiskers twitched.

He looked back up at the sky, sighed long and slow. Okay. A quick run-down of his body. The nervous fluttering in his belly was all but gone, thankfully, the compulsive need to move sated for now. He wasn't hungry or thirsty, no issue there. Okay.

Cloud stood, shook out his fur determinedly. He was ready.

He made his way over to the kit-den, the nursery, whatever, to where he had left his parents last. Brindleface was gone, probably out for a forest run, but Fireheart was still there waiting for him. He watched Cloud pad over silently, his tail flipping every so often over his paws, ears trained on the kit, a serious look on his unsmiling face. Cloud settled beside him close enough to press their sides together. Papa reached a gentle paw over, pulling Cloud closer until he saw nothing but red and cream fur, felt nothing but softness.

After a long moment, Fireheart spoke.

"Ready, storm-cloud?" His expression may have been stern but his voice was as warm as his name, rumbling through Cloud's body comfortingly. 

He simply nodded, taking in Fireheart's scent, mossy, familiar, and home. 

"Mhm," Cloud finally said, pulling a little back to peek at Fireheart's face- smiling. He was smiling, a tiny thing softening his face into an expression only Cloud ever received, and it made him feel warm every time, loved down to his core.

Overcome, he wiggled out of Fireheart's hold, purring up a storm while winding around him, tail high and happy. His dad loved him more than anything in the world- everything else, everything scary or new couldn't ever stand up to that. He was so lucky.

"Alright, kit," Fireheart stood with a slight groan, "ease up, we gotta go meet Longtail, remember?"

"Yes!" Cloud hopped in place, eager now. His paws tapped excitedly, claws gripping and releasing the ground when he stopped. He was so ready! Born ready!

Fireheart snorted at him fondly, gesturing follow when he moved to walk away. He led Cloud over to the warrior's den, let him wind around him once more while he called into the den for Longtail.

The warrior didn't make them wait, already halfway out the den before Fireheart even finished, pale green eyes widening at Cloud's abrupt halt in front of him. He backed up a pawstep, unsure.

"Hi! I'm Cloud!" Cloud greeted the tall cat, smiling wide, cheer back in full force. 

"..lo," he said back, far too low for Cloud to hear clearly. A head tilt, a blink.

A heartbeat.

"Youre going to have to speak up, Longtail," Fireheart said for the both of them, placing a paw on top of Cloud's head briefly, indicating his ears. "Loud-body for this one. I'm sure Goldenflower told you."

Cloud couldn't see his face, but he could certainly see Longtail's; he looked like he'd got his tail stepped on! His whiskers twitched with a held back laugh.

(Cats always had a hard time with loud-body at first- it never failed to make Cloud laugh, watching someone unaware try to talk to Willowpelt without getting her attention first and just seeing her walk away without a by-your-leave. It would never not be funny to him.)

Cloud watched the tall pale cat shake his fur out, face settling into a serious frown. Cloud tilted his head at him, waiting.

"Hello," Longtail nodded at him, eyes meeting his for a brief moment before settling somewhere to the left. He glanced quickly at Fireheart; whatever he saw on his face let him relax a little bit. "I'm Longtail, gonna- going to be your teacher for the next little while. Okay?" 

"Okay! I knew that already," Cloud was quick to point out, then shrugged at the odd look Longtail's face pinched into. "Ready when you are!"

He felt Fireheart hastily duck down to poorly hide a laugh into a paw; the strangled sound vibrated right up his paws. He didn't know what was so funny, but whatever. He waited for Fireheart's fit of laughter to taper off before pressing his whole body into him, scenting one last time before they headed out. 

"Be safe, okay?" Papa murmured in his ear, just for him. "Listen to teacher, all that."

"Mmkay," Cloud purred back. "You too!"

Fireheart snorted, jostling him a little with a nudge. "Go on, then. I'll see you later." He let Cloud go, swishing his tail bye-bye at him.

Cloud padded away with a smile, tail high. The tall pale tabby caught up to him at the camp exit; Cloud dipped his head at the guard, Bra-fur(?), sharing a quick smile, before being ushered off by Longtail with a quick follow me and hey, he's learning already! Cloud was impressed.

He marveled at the forest as they walked; time and time again he'd been out in it, and it never got tiring. Always changing, always something new to see, to smell! The green of new shoots, the brisk wind, the pretty colors of the sky, even the soil under-paw was interesting, was so super cool! Even being out with an awkward warrior instead of his family wasn't going to put a damper on his excitement, no way.

Longtail led him past tall oaks and pines, snow-covered undergrowth, interesting smelling clumps of ferns. The quick pace didn't allow the kit to explore, but he didn't mind so much, remembering this was more of a punishment than anything. Didn't mean he still didn't want to.

"...ight," Longtail finally paused by a lone oak, tail up in stop. He peered over at Cloud, a little nervously by the tilt of his ears. His body was so tense and uncomfortable it looked painful. He sat, curling his tail close to his body. His shoulders hunched slightly, but his eyes remained steady.

Cloud tilted his head curiously.

"Gonna be honest, kit, I have no idea what I'm doing here," Longtail began, motioning with a paw vaguely. At least this way Cloud could read him better, he guessed. Longtail went on, "Figured I could show you what to look for when hunting, I guess? Or whatever you want to learn..?" he trailed off, muttering to himself.

Cloud would be the first to admit, he was confused. What he wanted to learn? Wasn't this punishment? He hadn't seen a lot of the forest, even when he and his siblings were allowed to go out alone, and Fireheart never took him very far, and he really didn't know what there was to do aside from hunting or whatever. His paws gripped the ground mindlessly. 

Hm.

"...hey. Kit. Cloud?" Longtail waved a paw at him. Cloud's eyes snapped back up, unaware he'd been staring at the ground in thought.

"Do you wanna walk the borders instead? See Fourtrees, or the river?" Longtail's face was pinched worriedly. And- oh!

Oh!

"Yes!" Cloud hadn't even thought about that! He'd forgotten all about border patrols!

"Um. Okay. Let's go, then, wasting moonlight standing around out here," Longtail nodded awkwardly. "River's just this way, c'mon."

Cloud followed eagerly at his heels, nearly stepping on them in his excitement. He'd never seen the river before! The trees thinned out as they marched, oaks and a few stray pines giving way to towering magnolias, wide-branched willows, among others Cloud had no names for. A few dead maple leaves fluttered by in the breeze, basically begging him to pounce; next time, he vowed, nodding to himself.

His nose caught the scent of water long before he saw it, definitely before he heard it. Longtail led him around a bend, over the top of a small, snow-dusted incline, and-

Suddenly there was the river, rushing by in swirls of moonlit silver and deep grays and blacks. A dark pebbled bank on the far side, water-smooth, dotted with ferns and even more sprawling willows, bare branches nearly touching the river's surface. Beeches and undergrowth blocked his view further into River territory, but he didn't care, what he could see already was so cool! Longtail was quickly abandoned in favor of sliding down the little hill, scattering pebbles and stones in his haste. He ignored the muffled call of his name- he wasn't gonna fall in! Just wanted to see!

He landed on the bank with a graceless roll. So many interesting smells! Waterside plants, little bugs, the skittering of little creatures vibrating up his paws, stray clumps of grass tickling his whiskers. He dug a little hole by the water just to feel the difference, ran up the bank and back a few times, chirping his glee. He dared to poke the flowing water with a paw, cold! Super cold!

Very wet, eww.

Cloud shook the water off; wet fur felt bleh.

He zipped off again, turning stones, nosing into rock-holes to scent anything new-

"Wah!" He jumped back, wincing, paw automatically reaching up to his nose where something pointy scratched it. "Ow..."

His paw came back red.

Movement caught his eye- a many-legged creature was waving tiny claws at him. What? A tiny spot of blood on one of the claws told him this is what poked him, some kind of. Weird little spidery thing. He didn't want to touch it again, backed away slowly, wary of even blinking too fast. The little thing seemed satisfied with warning him off though, scuttling sideways back into the hole it came from.

What?

Cloud was still blinking as he turned to go find Longtail, who was sitting a little ways away with his tail curled over his paws. He made his way over to the warrior, nose throbbing, drops of his blood making a little trail down the shore. He kind of wanted to go home now, please.

He sat himself next to Longtail and groomed his paw, and eventually his stinging nose. It hurt! 

When he was done, Longtail finally spoke.

"And what did we learn?" He was definitely laughing at Cloud, and he couldn't even be mad about it! Ugh.

"Don't stick my nose in strange holes," Cloud grumbled anyway. "What was that thing?"

"A crab, looked like," the warrior replied with a shrug, flexing his claws. "They like hidey-holes like that. Thunderclan doesn't hunt them regularly 'cause they're usually too small, but the meat tastes good."

"Hm."

"Now," Longtail stood up, "you wanna head on home? Or do you still want to see Fourtrees?"

Cloud considered his options. Going back to camp sounded nice, but so did seeing the gathering place... But he was getting a little tired. And his nose hurt. And suddenly his paws kinda ached? And oh, his stomach rumbled.

"Home then, got it," Longtail laughed at him again, apparently hearing it too. "Kits need to eat more often, I forgot, sorry."

Cloud stood with a long stretch. Fine with him.

He followed after the warrior at a much slower pace than they set out with; by the time they passed by the small stream near the training hollow he was about dead on his paws, all his previous energy just gone, drained away, like something poured it out of him.

"..going, kit?" Longtail asked him, pausing to let him catch up.

"Huh?" Cloud blinked at him.

"Are you good to keep going?" The tall cat repeated. "I could carry you," he offered, a little hesitant.

" 'm okay," Cloud mumbled. Being carried into camp after finally being allowed out of it again would worry his parents, definitely. Not to mention he was coming back with an injury! Urgh.

"Alright." Longtail didn't look like he believed him, but let him walk under his own power anyway. He still stayed close by, in any case, probably to catch him if Cloud did end up tripping or something.

After a while, Longtail broke the silence.

"Hey, kit," he mewed, then stopped, ears bent back when Cloud looked up at him curiously.

"You ever think about your name?" Longtail blurted quickly, looking a little like he wanted to shove his paw into his mouth.

"What do you mean?" Cloud asked with a head tilt. He knew his name was different from his siblings, from the rest of Thunderclan, but it never really bothered him. "I mean, sometimes, I guess?"

Longtail relaxed a little at Cloud's non-reaction. He elaborated, "I was just wondering if you were gonna- going let Bluestar change it, when you're apprenticed?"

"Oh." He hadn't really thought about it, honestly. "I don't really care? Cloudpaw sounds kinda cool, but I don't mind just Cloud, either," he shrugged, figuring that whatever Bluestar decided would be fine with him. Not like Cloud wouldn't still be his name anyway. He picked his way over a fallen branch, wincing at the dull ache of his paws when he landed.

Longtail waited for him to continue walking with a slight frown, obviously thinking. Cloud didn't mind not talking, but he should probably say something..?

"Do you think about yours?" he asked the warrior in return. 

"Me?" Longtail blinked at him. 

"Yeah, do you wanna change it?" Is that why he asked Cloud about his own name? Or, maybe he really was just curious?

"Oh." Longtail went silent, brushing against Cloud's fur every now and then to steer them away from things he could trip over.

Nice of him.

"Nah, I'm good with my name as it is," Longtail finally meowed with a nod.

He was like Fireheart in that way, taking a little bit to come up with words to say, thinking and thinking. Maybe they could be friends! And maybe one day Longtail could be Cloud's friend, too! He was nice enough, even if he acted all nervous and awkward sometimes.

Cloud nodded belatedly. He guessed they were done talking for now? He didn't have much else to say, tired as he was, which Longtail thankfully seemed to pick up on. He led Cloud along until they finally reached Thunderclan's camp, at which point all Cloud wanted to do was curl up in his nest with Fireheart and Brindleface and sleep for at least a half moon. He had enough energy to nod at the camp guard though, a big white warrior who gave him a warm smile as they passed.

Longtail finally stopped in front of the kit-den nursery, where Cloud immediately sat down with a dramatic groan.

"Alright kit, I'll see you tomorrow," he mewed. He poked Cloud with a paw, right on the forehead. "Make sure to get some rest, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes, batting away the offending paw. The warrior scoffed at him, smiling, before padding away, tail flicking goodbye as he went. Cloud huffed a quiet laugh to himself.

He took a moment to himself to sit quietly, before heaving himself upwards to enter the den. His whiskers brushed the sides, nose twitching at the scent of prey the further he got. Nodded at the other cats in the den, eyes searching for his parents. No Brindleface, but...!

Fireheart was laid in their nest, a squirrel by his back paws. His ears had lifted at Cloud's arrival, head raising a moment after. A purr Cloud could feel in his bones rose the moment he all but launched himself at his adopted father, food forgotten for the moment in favor of comfort and softness. Fireheart gently groomed his head, his ears, cooing softly at his aching nose, sympathy in his eyes. 

"Poor snow-cloud, what got you?" His voice was blurred with sleep, but warm. A paw came up to frame Cloud's face; he leaned into it briefly.

"Longtail called it a crab! It had all these legs, looked like a spider, but it had claws too," Cloud demonstrated, splaying a paw, claws reaching, snapping his teeth to mimick the pinch of them.

Fireheart scrunched his face affectionately, eyes nearly shutting with the force of his smile. His purr hadn't stopped for a moment, and when he pulled Cloud close with his paws he could feel it. It was the best sound in the world, soothing and warm and feeling like love. Cloud purred in response, kneading his paws into Fireheart while minding his claws, feeling his whole body getting heavier and heavier, mind clouding sleepily. 

He was so comfy. But. Hungry, too.

"We'll get that nose looked at when you wake up, 'kay?" Fireheart murmured at him, nosing over his ears, jaw rubbing over his head. 

"Mmkay," Cloud mumbled. He forced himself to sit up after a long moment, (a difficult task,) but he needed to eat.

The squirrel didnt take long to eat at all, snow-fall skinny as it was, but it was food. Pushing the pile of fur and bones to the side, he snuggled his way back into their nest with a full belly.

Fireheart's gentle purr lulled him off to sleep before he knew it, warm and loving and home.

Chapter Text

Goldenflower had her kits. One was the spitting image of her but like the kit had been dipped in shadows; the other a pale tortoiseshell, little white splashes in their pelt like it had been faded by sunlight.

She had her kits.

What in the stars' name were they all going to do with five kits?

Fireheart gulped a breath after escaping the kit den, staving off the panic desperately; he and Brindleface and Goldenflower had managed their three so far, and, he felt, decently well if he was in a charitable mood. A little voice in his hindbrain that sounded like Cinderpelt whispered "when are you ever?" and he ignored that. He was working on it! Not his fault things kept happening.

Cloud was still a kit for stars' sake, but not for long now, but he was still far too young for Fireheart to want to consider it- but he should, but he didn't want to. He just. Fireheart shoved his head under his paws, hiding from the world. 

Ugh.

"Hey, Fireh- woah." Whitestorm. Concerned Whitestorm, stars.

"Hey," he grumbled. Growled. Whatever.

"You good, kit?" Yellowfang's raspy voice drawled. He felt a claw poke his shoulder ungently.

"Do I look like I'm good?" Fireheart lifted his head to eye the healer. His paws splayed out to keep balance and he didn't know what he looked like but Yellowfang's blink of brief alarm told him enough.

"Guess not," Whitestorm answered for her to head off an argument, as gentle and non judgemental as ever. His bright eyes squinted sympathetically as they roved over Fireheart's body; he sighed a little, sitting close to the deputy's side to groom his unkempt fur.

The fight drained out of him as quickly as it rose; he didn't want to argue with Yellowfang, not really. Fireheart just. He was just...

"Ugh," he whined dramatically, "why does everything keep happening so much."

Yellowfang laughed at him as she settled into a crouch. Rude.

"The life of a deputy is everything but dull, looks like," she chuffed, bushy tail twitching with mirth. "New-parent anxiety this time, isn't that right?"

"Aaaagh," Fireheart groaned again, into Whitestorm's fluffy side. The white warrior's body shook with silent laughter.

"Don't know why you're laughing, White-cat," Yellowfang skewered him with a faux glare. "You'll be in his place soon enough, I'm sure."

"Ah." Whitestorm stopped laughing.

"Pff," Fireheart muffled his own snort into a paw. Finally, someone other than him!

"And you," Yellowfang caught his eye; he froze. Her sharp gaze gentled. "You'll be fine, kit. You three do well enough."

"Y-" Fireheart's throat closed briefly; he coughed, tried again. "You think so?"

"Fireheart, I know so," Yellowfang's voice softened even further, her sunset eyes warm, loving. It made his heart ache; she didn't usually show this soft side, least of all anywhere other cats could see them, and it...

" 'kay," he murmured, hiding his face again in white fur. Too much, he thought, but. Not in a bad way.

"You'll be alright," Whitestorm said lowly, rasping his tongue over an ear. Comforting and warm, was Whitestorm. Fireheart could hear the smile in his voice, and that too was almost too much, but it didn't stop him from being comforted.

(If Fireheart had to pick any cats to be his parents, if he had the choice, Yellowfang and Whitestorm were at the top of a very short list.

A very short list of three, but he ignored that.)

"My kit in all but blood, Fireheart," Yellowfang sighed fondly, as if echoing his thoughts. Spooky. Fireheart raised his head, inadvertently nudging Whitestorm out of the way, but a wide paw landed easily on his head and stalled anything he could say. Yellowfang let him bask in the touch for a heartbeat, but then she decided to stop being nice and shoved him into Whitestorm; their surprised yelps when they tumbled over into a heap went ignored.

"Now go support your friend, you little bratling," she mock-growled at him, "she's going to think you don't love her at this rate!"

"Not true!" Fireheart protested with a huff, trying to get Whitestorm's elbow out of his belly. Ugh.

"Better go in- oof- before she comes out," Whitestorm puffed at him, trying to avoid accidental claws in soft places.

"Okay, yeah you- OW- you're right, okay-" Fireheart heaved and Whitestorm was finally off of him, fur in disarray and covered in dust, himself no better, but-

"Okay thanks love you-!" he shouted back at them as he scampered off back to the kit den, lighter of heart, anxiety dissipated like morning mist. He had new kits to love, and a Goldenflower to apologize to, and, and...

(Whitestorm just laid where he was shoved, laughing. Yellowfang shook her head at him, but fondly.

Kits these days, honestly.)

Chapter Text

It was a few days into her punishment, and Fernkit was doing her best to behave. To act like a warrior should.

Or, she was trying to.

She just didn't know- didn't realize, that little Cloud could have been hurt, that Ashkit could have been hurt, that they could have died.

It had just. Never occurred to her. How was she supposed to know? They'd all been outside before without a chaperone, and they'd been fine then, so what was the difference, why was everyone so upset? It was just their parents being overprotective, right?

Mousefur had wasted no time setting her straight on that.

'The warrior code states that no kits are to ever hunt, and never alone,' the warrior had told her sternly, shaded eyes staring Fernkit down. 'For when you are the size of prey, you will be hunted like prey. And being prey means death.'

Even the memory of that first lesson made her shiver, the fur along her spine bristling a little. She felt bad, felt- shame, that was it, ashamed, because, her little brothers were so small, compared to her, she's the biggest, the oldest, should have known better, and Brindleface and Fireheart's fierce disappointment in her, in all of them, hurt so much, and she was sorry.

A pained whine crawled up her throat, accidentally catching Mousefur's attention. The brown warrior immediately halted in her tracks, turning on Fernkit with worry bleeding from her pelt.

"Kit? Hey, what's wrong?" Mousefur raised a paw, pressing it against her face, and Fernkit, warmed by the care in the gesture, leaned into it; despite her typically serious, no-nonsense attitude, Mousefur was actually really, really nice.

(She kind of understood Cloud's relationship with Cinderpelt a little better, now. Mousefur, too, was like a big sister.)

" 'm okay," Fernkit mumbled, eyes not quite meeting the warrior's, "just thinking, I guess."

"Anything you wanna share?" Mousefur took back her paw and Fernkit didn't miss it. She didn't.

"I just," she stalled, tapped a paw absently, thinking about the squirrely feeling wriggling in her belly. It felt bad. 

"Hey, you don't have to tell me," Mousefur mewed lowly, tone leading.

"But?" Fernkit lifted her head, squinting suspiciously.

"But," the warrior echoed, a wry lilt to her voice, "it'll probably help, you know? And if not me, my brother's a great listener, too."

"I don't mind if it's you," Fernkit blurted unthinkingly, mouth faster than her brain.

Mousefur blinked at her, a little shocked. Fernkit, fighting the urge to bury her head in her paws, looked away from the warrior. Sat down.

"I just. Should have known better, right." It wasn't a question.

Mousefur was quiet. Then, "Yeah, probably."

Fernkit's heart sank- so it was her fault? Her shoulders hunched without permission, tail curling close to her body.

"But," Mousefur murmured, padding over the short distance to sit at her side, "none of us, not me or your parents or even your brothers think you're really at fault, here." 

What?

"What?" Fernkit blinked.

"Do you know why your parents were so worried, so angry with all of you?" Mousefur asked, paw reaching over the kit's shoulders to hold her close.

"Wasn't it because we left without telling anyone? Or because we hunted?" Fernkit certainly thought so, anyway.

"No," came the easy admonishment, "it's because they were scared."

"Huh? But they're so strong!" And her mom was so smart, her dad was deputy, what did they have to be scared of?

"Listen to me, Fernkit. Really listen to me," Mousefur regarded her seriously, jostling her a little. She waited for Fernkit's nod, then continued. "Thunderclan kits have died, before. Have been killed, by other predators, by other cats, from the blasted weather, sometimes, like you could have been. Just before you were born, Frostfur's litter was taken from us right under our noses. Cinderpelt and her littermates, yeah? They'd been stolen. We didn't know if we could even get them back, at the time. Dead or alive."

Fernkit stared at her temporary mentor, jaws agape in horror. She hadn't known about any of this.

"Your dad was on the mission to retrieve them, did you know?" Fernkit did not, because what? Mousefur jostled her again, a hint of irony in her smile. "So, yeah, he was scared. Of course he was! Of course your mother was! A second litter gone missing in just a few moons, nobody knew if you'd been taken, or killed, or whatever else could have happened. We don't blame you, Fernkit, honest. You may be big, almost an apprentice now, but you're still a kit. Kits make mistakes. They were just scared for you."

Fernkit was struck silent, digesting... All of that. Mousefur let her be, still pressed up against her and sharing warmth, shielding her from the brisk night wind.

Fernkit looked up at the moon, shining brightly in the black emptiness that was the sky. Thin, whispy clouds snaked over the treetops, blurring their edges, floaty and dream-like. She took a deep, long breath. Let it burst out of her in a gusty sigh, sagged maybe a little dramatically into Mousefur's fluffy side.

"Alright, kit?" The warrior asked, an edge of humor in her tone.

"So," Fernkit hesitated. Hm.

"So..." Mousefur echoed, drawing out the word long enough to sound like a question. It itched at Fernkit's ears, annoyingly. But...

"It's really not my fault? Even though I'm biggest and oldest?" She started strong, but faded into a low murmur, shame flattening her ears and stealing her voice.

"It really isn't, Fernkit. Everyone make mistakes, and just because you're oldest doesn't mean your brothers have to listen to you, right? Not like how you all have to listen to Brindleface, and Fireheart. They can make their own choices, just like you can. Their own mistakes. Which is why the three of you are being punished, right?" Mousefur nudged her a little at that, a small grin on her face.

Fernkit giggled with a relieved nod, curling her body into the warrior slightly. She was glad, abruptly, that she had thought to apologize to Cloud, before. She was glad to have talked with Mousefur, too, but being spoken at with so much honesty for so long took her out. She was suddenly so, so tired and done with talking about this.

"What, shy now? What happened to that spirited itty-bitty kit who hunts on her own? Hm?" Mousefur jeered, smiling wide now.

"Itty-bitty!" Fernkit was not! She was biggest! She shot up, ready to defend herself from this baseless slander.

"Itty-bitty, tiny little!" Mousefur taunted her, stepping easily out of range from Fernkit's vengeful paw swipe.

"When I'm a warrior, I'm gonna get you!" Fernkit promised her temporary mentor, "I'll be bigger and stronger and cooler than you!"

"You can try," Mousefur replied, lofty and unbothered. Her tail swung high, curling into a wordless let's go.

Fernkit followed at her heel, still on a roll. "I'm gonna get bigger than, than, the biggest tree you ever seen!"

"You ever see a cat that huge?" The warrior asked her, and Fernkit could see the dubious squint of her eyes, and ugh!

"Maybe, you don't know," she mewed anyway, tossing her head. "Maybe they only show up when you're not around, huh!"

"In your dreams, you little brat," Mousefur scoffed, the eye roll that went with it almost audible, that's how loud it was.

"Nuh-uh, in yours! Look, look, Mousefur," Fernkit called, falling into a leaping crouch. 

The moment the warrior glanced over, she pounced.

Successfully hunted leaf!

She made eye contact with Mousefur, face deadly serious.

"That's gonna be me, later. When I get you."

Mousefur's resounding laughter scared a flock of birds into flight. Fernkit couldn't help but smile, even if now they'd have to walk farther to find anything else.

Maybe tomorrow, after making sure Goldenflower was okay, she would apologize to Ashkit, too.

And maybe then get some apologies of her own!

Chapter Text

Dustpelt was enjoying a late evening meal, by himself, thank you, when his bestest friend in the whole world (her own words) plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. He chose to chew and swallow his mouthful before speaking (like how Cinderpelt wouldn't, like some unmannerly beast. He, however, was a beast with manners), side-eying her suspiciously in the meantime.

"You need something?" He hoped not.

"Nah," Cinderpelt waved him off, "just waiting for Sandstorm."

"Okay..?" Dustpelt didn't see why she had to wait here for their friend, but as long as she was quiet, fine. Whatever.

Cinderpelt let him be, choosing to groom her dusky paws instead. Dustpelt turned back to his meal, intent on finishing it before his assigned patrol with Frostfur and Brightpaw. For the first time in a while, the prey he chose was substantial, filling his belly nicely.

"Oh, look," Cinderpelt spoke up at length, a curious lilt to her voice, "Fireheart's coming."

"What?" Dustpelt glanced up, and- yep, there their red deputy was, padding over with a high tail in greeting. His face was oddly scowl-free for once, Dustpelt noted, and kind of hated that he did so.

"Cinderpelt, Dustpelt." Fireheart came to a stop before he got too close, just within easy speaking distance, tone neutral.

"Hey-o, deputy-leader," Cinderpelt greeted him with a wide smile.

Dustpelt simply nodded in acknowledgement, eyeing the smaller warrior. He usually didn't come up to cats without a goal, so...

"What is it?" he asked evenly. Need me for yet another task? he doesn't say, biting back the sarcasm with the force of his will. 

"Wanted to talk to you about something I forgot about until now," Fireheart mewed, staring straight at Dustpelt. "It can wait until after your patrol, if you'd like."

"Ooh, a confession?" Cinderpelt broke in eagerly, leaning in.

"Absolutely not," Dustpelt immediately denied, ears flattening.

Fireheart looked taken aback, coughing out a surprised laugh after a moment. "No, nothing like that."

(Dustpelt noticed the softened lines of his face, how his eyes squinted more than his mouth smiled, and wanted to bite himself.)

"Boring," Cinderpelt sighed, deprived of juicy gossip. Dustpelt rolled his eyes at her.

"We can talk now, patrol isn't for a little bit," he grumbled, pushing away his prey's remains. At least he'd finished eating.

"Leaving me!" The gray warrior complained, flopping to her side way too dramatically, in Dustpelt's opinion.

"Weren't you going out with Sandstorm for battle training?" Fireheart blinked at Cinderpelt, tilting his head.

"Yeah, when she gets done washing, which takes ages," she bemoaned, rolling away from them further and flailing her paws in the air for emphasis. "Her fur's so long, ugh."

"Like yours is much shorter," the deputy squinted at her. "Bet it's nice when you sleep next to her when it's cold, though, huh?"

Cinderpelt sputtered at the implication, ears flattening embarassedly. She failed to come up with anything clever to say back, and Dustpelt was getting tired of these dramatics, honestly. He stood with a heavy sigh, shaking out his fur.

"Let's get going, ki- Fireheart," Dustpelt hastily amended, feeling Cinderpelt's quick glare try to burn the fur of his tail off, avoiding Fireheart's now closed expression by turning tail to head for the camp exit. He tried to not overhear their farewells, focused only on moving his paws away, and really, being alone with Fireheart out in the forest sounded much better than being stared at by more than half the camp simply because their unapproachable deputy approached him, of all cats. He tried to not hear the hesitant cadence to the quiet pawsteps following behind him at a polite distance.

(He tried to ignore the almost guilty feeling in his gut, too, with little success.)

Dustpelt halted by a sprawling bare magnolia, far enough from camp but not far enough away to be considered far if he was in a hurry to return, judging it a decent enough spot to talk despite how blisteringly chilly the wind that bit through his fur was starting to feel.

Fireheart said nothing even when Dustpelt turned to him, just watched him quietly with tired green eyes. A faint frown pulled his muzzle, his fox-like tail brushed the ground when it swayed uneasily, ears tilted back like he expected Dustpelt to- what, exactly? Shout at him? Insult him?

He hasn't done anything wrong, Dustpelt reminded himself. And then, why does it feel like I'm the bad guy here?

"So what did you want?" he asked instead of saying any of that, sitting down and curling his tail over his chilled paws. He tried keeping his tone even, but-

"I don't want anything from you," Fireheart sneered at him briefly. His derision dropped as fast as it arose though, like keeping it up was more exhausting than not. 

"Then why are we out here?" Dustpelt shot back, exasperated.

"We didn't have to be!" the other warrior groaned, pacing now. "You're the one who decided it!"

"Fireheart. What did you need to tell me." Dustpelt was so done with this cat and this conversation, stars above.

Fireheart muttered to himself instead of answering, moving in tight, anxious circles. Dustpelt's ears caught brief snippets, such as 'whole thing could have been avoided if he just-' or 'swear to the moon I'm never doing this again' and a growled 'gonna kill him twice over for making me-' and Dustpelt had had enough.

"Fireheart I swear if you don't get to the point right now, I-"

"Fine, okay! I'll tell you, sit on your tail," Fireheart snapped at him, then sighed. Finally coming to some sort of decision, he padded over to sit in front of Dustpelt, attention fully and wholly, only on him.

Dustpelt's breath caught for a moment, being under that stare. It was..

"I wanted to tell you, I forgot I hadn't told you, stars, the whole story about Tigerclaw and Redtail and Ravenpaw, and I'm sorry about that."

Huh?

"What do you mean, Tigerclaw and Redtail. Were they mates or something?" Dustpelt half-joked, blindsided, heart suddenly pounding in his throat. The dead traitor, his dead mentor, and his dead, easily-frightened little brother? Was this a joke?

"Tigerclaw killed him." Fireheart's voice went quiet, serious as anything.

"He what."

"Ravenpaw watched it happen."

"He what."

"And then Tigerclaw found out that he knew, that I knew, and tried to have us both killed. Ca- monsters, snakes, invaders, you remember, don't you, Dustpelt?" Fireheart's voice turned gently pleading, trying to get him to remember, and...

He did, it made too much sense and it made him sick. All those injuries, the nightmares, the terror at even the idea of being near Tigerclaw, he'd chalked it up to Ravenpaw being shy, being nervous and small, and Fireheart, then Firepaw, being new to the forest, wet behind the ears still, being lesser, and-

"So, so Tigerclaw killed Redtail during that battle at the sun rocks," Fireheart stumbled over his words in his haste to explain, ears tilted back anxiously. "Right when I was brought here. And Ravenpaw saw it happen, but then Tigerclaw told everyone that Oakheart killed him, who, from what everyone in Riverclan says, died from a rock-fall, so he couldn't have," a stressed eye roll, "and then Tigerclaw tried to turn the clan against Ravenpaw, tried to kill me again after we had brought Windclan back, then he tried to kill either me or Bluestar by the road but got Cinderpelt instead, and-" he had to stop for breath.

"And then I told Bluestar. And now we're here," Fireheart finished his (lacking) explanation with a half-hearted shrug, looking uncomfortable. Dustpelt couldn't care less about how he looked, because, what? He felt like maybe there were some details missing, here!

"Oh and about Ravenpaw, actually," Fireheart said quickly, despite or because of Dustpelt's continued (shocked, possibly hysterical) silence, "he's not dead, just up near Windclan's outer edge, by the barns. Wasn't safe to tell anyone, but Tigerclaw's dead, so."

Fireheart fell silent at last, letting Dustpelt sort through his feelings, his thoughts, but... He couldn't speak, could barely breathe, could hardly think, and it just. Really, it was one thing after another with this cat, never giving anyone a break, always something happening, to or around him, and it stressed Dustpelt out just being near him, it really did. He could do nothing but blink uselessly.

Because honestly, what? 

"Oh yes, and one last thing," Fireheart said after a while, perking up, actually smiling at him, and Dustpelt almost didn't want to know.

"...what is it," he asked anyway.

Fireheart cleared his throat, sat up taller, and began. "We, Thunderclan, and I, Deputy Leader Fireheart, want you, Warrior Dustpelt, to have the honor of teaching one Our precious young in the ways of the Warrior. To teach them to hunt for Us, for themselves, and to fight for Us, and themselves. To teach them to protect Us, and themselves, against enemies who would endanger Our lives, or Our way of life. Do you accept?"

Dustpelt was struck silent yet again. Him? Really?

Fireheart then raised a paw to his muzzle and said, dropping the formality and quieter like it was a secret, "it'll be Ashkit!" with a smaller but more genuine smile like he was sweetening the deal.

And Dustpelt... Really needed to think about everything the deputy had just told him, definitely. It was almost too much to believe, but despite their mutual animosity, Fireheart had never lied to him. At least there was that.

(Small comforts, he knew. Redtail was still dead. But at least it no longer hurt, and he clung to it. Like he clung to the fact that his littermate was apparently still alive, stars above.)

Plus, he could shout at Fireheart later, for keeping secrets, for leaving our important details. He decides he's glad for the chance to. But...

In spite of everything, the rush of sudden happiness startles a small laugh out of him, just a short huff of breath, but Fireheart smiled wide regardless, and really, he couldn't help but smile back, caught up in the joy of he was gonna be a mentor!

"So, yes?" the red tabby asked him, head tilted and tone knowing.

"Obviously," Dustpelt rolled his eyes. "Who are your other two going to, then?"

"Sandstorm didn't tell you?" Fireheart smirked at him a little meanly. "She's taking Cloud, and Fernkit's going to Bluestar."

"Sandstorm doesn't know I'm gonna get Ashkit?" Dustpelt fished, ignoring the flash of annoyance that she'd kept it to herself, and the vague surprise that nobody else told him of any rumors, either. Also, Bluestar? After the nightmare that was Fireheart's apprenticeship?

"Nope, and Brindleface doesn't know who I've picked at all, so let it be a surprise," was the lofty answer. "Though, how'd you not know, honestly, she hangs out with my kits all the time, and half that time you're also there-"

"I thought she just liked hanging out with them!" Dustpelt defended himself, ears burning hot. "Cinderpelt tags along too, I thought they just liked kits!"

"Ha," Fireheart laughed at him, dry as bone. Laughed at him!

Dustpelt tossed his head, grumbled, tried to not feel embarrassed. Failed.

Fireheart snickered, but let off, thankfully. He stood, shaking out his coat, and Dustpelt didn't notice the way it settled, the stripe of cream fur trailing down his throat when he stretched-

Nope.

"That's all I wanted to talk to you about, I gotta go meet Longtail and Swiftpaw by Tallpines," the deputy dipped his head politely, tone once again neutral, bordering on friendly.

Dustpelt blinked, then remembered- oh yeah, he also had somewhere to be, he was-

"If I'm late for my patrol I'm gonna come back from the dead and fight you," he casually promised Fireheart.

"Get in line!" the deputy just called out over his shoulder, already padding away. His striped tail flicked bye at Dustpelt, vanishing as he rounded a tree, and then he was gone.

Dustpelt hurried to his paws, shook his head, and pointed himself in the direction his patrol was set to meet at.

He had a lot to think about, it seemed.

Chapter Text

Sandstorm was dreaming. She knew she was. The vibrant green of the trees and grass surrounding her might've clued her in, but it was seeing her father that really did it.

"Dad!" she could help but cry out, pelting toward him like she was a fresh 'paw all over again, wanting nothing more than her father's love, to make him proud.

"Sandstorm!" he greeted back with a wild purr, letting her crush him into the soft ground. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Sandstorm shook, and shook. She lifted her head, vision blurry.

"Look at you," he murmured, a dark paw reaching up to press against her cheek. "You've grown so big!"

"We're the same size, now," she choked on a small laugh, leaning into the touch. Stars, she'd missed him.

"Yep, and look at you now! Best hunter in Thunderclan, isn't that right?" he sounded so proud of her, it made her heart ache.

Sandstorm smiled despite the pain. She was! She had worked hard for that title! And hard work could get a cat anywhere, Redtail told her once, when she was small, and she had never forgotten it.

"A little birdie told me you're to be a mentor, too! Sandstorm," he paused, making sure she was paying attention, and she was. "I am so, so proud of you, and I love you so, so much."

Sandstorm's vision blurred once again, and she buried her head into her father's side to hide, overcome. How dare he, honestly. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I know," Redtail soothed, rasping his tongue over her ears just like when she was small. He let her burrow into his starry fur without complaint.

When her breathing finally evened out, Sandstorm lifted her face from his soft side, glaring half-heartedly at him.

"Why now, dad? Starclan cats don't come to everyday warriors without a reason, is there something wrong?" Stars, she hoped not. Fireheart complained more than enough about the star-cats bothering him, rather than Yellowfang.

Redtail winced.

Ah.

"What now," Sandstorm sighed; it was always something.

"Well," Redtail drew the word out, an anxious tell, "I don't know the specifics, but-"

"Oh my moon and stars-!"

A shriek of rage interrupts them; Sandstorm jerked in place- that voice was familiar!

Her ears twist to follow the sound, the sharp crrak! of claws rending through tree bark, stomping footsteps, and-

Suddenly Fireheart is there, bristling red fur a stark contrast against the verdant green of Starclan's grounds, face lit with a snarl borne of boiling rage. His poisonous green eyes alight on Redtail, then-

"You."

She watches, a little warily, as her friend stalks up to her dad to snarl in his face, Redtail taking a step back unconsciously. 

Sandstorm cleared her throat. 

"Hey, Sandstorm." Fireheart nodded at her, cordial as anything, like seeing her here wasn't weird at all. Then turned back to Redtail, glare back in full force. "Why am I here again."

"Ahaha, haha, I didn't call you this time, Fireheart, honest!" Redtail laughed, tail swishing nervously.

"He really didn't," another voice speaks up, laughing and lofty and also familiar, and Sandstorm really wanted some answers. Because Spottedleaf was now among them in a flutter of flower petals, sudden like a rain-shower on a cloudless day and sitting next to Redtail like she'd always been there.

She kind of wanted to go back in time where it was just her and her dad having a happy reunion, but that moment was over.

Sandstorm sighed.

Fireheart sighed too, a heavily aggravated noise, but he sat next to her, mouthing 'sorry' like he knew he had interrupted them. It made her feel a little better, at least.

"So? What is it this time," her friend asked, tail tapping along the ground.

"If it's an emergency, should we be talking right now?" Sandstorm wanted to know. Redtail made it sound like whatever it was was imminent, at least.

"Time works different here," Fireheart murmured to her, at the same time her aunt said, "It's fine, Starclan isn't the same as the waking world."

"...alright," Sandstorm blinked.

Weird.

"I wanted to vaguely warn Fireheart here about a possible threat," Spottedleaf told her with a cheery smile.

"Dunno why you can't tell Yellowfang," Fireheart muttered pointedly, sounding like he'd said that before but had fallen on deaf ears.

"You're funny to talk to," Spottedleaf shrugged.

"I just wanted to talk to my kit," Redtail said to nobody.

(Sandstorm shot him a smile anyway.)

Fireheart groaned, looking like he wanted to hide in his paws, or brain himself against a tree. Sandstorm huffed a small laugh.

"May as well hear it," she offered with a small grin. Glanced at her aunt, waved a paw in a go on motion.

"'Beware a warrior you cannot trust,' that's what they told me. I'm sure you can figure out who they could be," Spottedleaf mewed, lackadaisical, like it didn't really matter to her if they did or not.

Her aunt was so weird; Sandstorm felt a rush of fondness for her.

"Oh yes," Redtail spoke up, eyeing the two warriors. "And they told me, 'flames may burn your bodies, but your spirits must burn hotter' or something like that. Ominous, if you ask me."

"Why," Fireheart groaned again. Sandstorm could relate; everything her friend had told her about Starclan cats being frustratingly vague was turning out to be true, and it was beginning to annoy.

"Sorry," Redtail apologized belatedly, giving her a helpless shrug. "We may be Starclan, but we don't know everything."

Fireheart muttered something that sounded a lot like 'useless' but he didn't look at anyone, so he went ignored.

"Anyway that's all I wanted to say! Bye-bye!" Spottedleaf departed as abruptly as she appeared, but not before nuzzling Sandstorm softly with a purr.

She left silence in her wake, stray flower petals blowing by on a warm wind.

Sandstorm sighed.

Redtail picked himself up and padded over to her and sat between her and Fireheart. Reached a paw over- oh.

Sandstorm blinked, suddenly burrowed into her father's side. She leaned into the touch, no matter that she could only feel a faint warmth from him. She really...

Sandstorm let herself relax. Let herself feel.

She really had missed him.

"I'm sorry we left you," Redtail murmured. His paw tightened, pulling her impossibly closer. "I never thought I'd die so soon."

"...me too," Sandstorm managed, throat tight. Twisted her tail closer to her body.

Fireheart quietly got up and padded over to her unoccupied side. He settled there, not close enough to touch, but it comforted her all the same.

"Even though I didn't," Redtail's voice faltered. Cleared his throat, tried again. "Didn't get to be part of your life, I'm still- I love you so much, I-"

"She knows, Redtail," Fireheart spoke up gently, something sad and knowing in his voice. Something regretful in his face, when Sandstorm chanced a look at him.

"I know, I know, it's just," her dad paused again, sounding choked. "I thought we had more time."

None of them said anything for a long moment, listening to the gentle wind and happy, distant voices.

A soft sigh.

"Don't we all." Sandstorm barely heard her friend, he was so quiet.

She eventually had to pull away from her dad, world going hazy-weird. Shimmery, like stones under water.

"Ah. Time's up," Redtail laughed, but it sounded so sad. His pelt, so vibrant and full of stars, seemed to fade as she watched, the scant warmth of him dissipating and she had to say something.

"I'll see you again." Sandstorm tried to smile for him despite her wavering voice. A purr rose in her throat, upset and glad at once that at least she had this chance to speak with him.

"Hopefully not too soon!" Redtail nudged her gently, his own smile wistful when he met her gaze. Her heart ached.

"Love you, dad," Sandstorm said around her purr, feeling her body getting heavier and heavier, vision blurring into indistinct shapes. The world got hazier, fading and swirling like rippling clouds, and Sandstorm...

"Bye-bye, I love yo-!"

Woke up.

Chapter Text

Fireheart woke up with a jerk. His kit laid peacefully at his belly, his friends on either side of him with their others. Nothing unusual at all.

But something felt... Wrong.

No birds sung, despite the time of day.

An acrid scent blew into the den; a cloying, choking thing, smelling like...

Smoke.

Fire.

"Wake up! Wake up!" He shrieked, standing with a flurry and shaking everyone he could reach awake, they had to hurry, they had to get out!

"What, what's going on?" Brindleface shook her pelt out, they had no time for that-!

"Fire! Go, go!" He started to push everyone out of the den in varying stages of wakefulness, fear bushing out his pelt. They couldn't get trapped, they couldn't! Not his partners, not his kits!

He was last out of the den, forcing Speckletail ahead, and what he saw had his breath catching painfully.

Smoke billowed across the camp in dark gray clouds. He could hardly see to the warrior's den, it was so thick. Cats swarmed, panicked and calling to each other in a cacophony of noise that barely masked the crackle of flames Fireheart could just barely see over the edge of the camp walls- it was so close.

Everything was chaos. A loud wailing alarm started up, piercing through the air. Fireheart couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"..ad, Dad!" Fernkit suddenly took up his entire vision, eyes wide and frightened. "Dad, what do we do?!"

He couldn't respond; his chest hurt, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Head for the river!" Sandstorm yowled over the noise. Whitestorm made use of his bright pelt, a beacon in the gloom for cats to follow.

"Stick together!" Bluestar added, Tawnykit in her jaw, ushering Goldenflower (who had a grip on Bramblekit) and the apprentices forward and out of camp.

"Fernkit, help us with the elders!" Cloud called; Fireheart whipped his head around.

One-eye was struggling with the smoke and leaning on his son; Ashkit had Patchpelt and Smallear together. Halftail coughed harshly, spurring his daughter into action and he was so proud of them all but his fear stuck his paws to the ground and he just. Couldn't. Move.

Crackling above his head; the trees around camp had started to catch, their insides straining and breaking, leaves raining down with thick ash, lit branches following in their wake with a great thunderous crash.

A tree started to split.

"Yellowfang, move, its coming down!" Someone screeched, and Fireheart-

Stopped thinking.

His body moved on its own toward the gray cat, vision tunneling until all he could see was her.

The falling tree seemed to slow, trailing embers through the air. He lengthened his stride, faster, faster, faster.

Just before it crushed them both, Fireheart slammed into her; they went tumbling away from the bonfire, her yelp of surprise distant in his ears because then Fireheart was shrieking in agony, his side was suddenly on fire. He writhed, tried to get it off, get it off, it burned-

He passed out.

He didn't know how long it was before he woke, couldn't think past the pain, but he felt tugging on his scruff and air under his paws; Yellowfang, presumably, lifting him bodily out of the blaze. His side slammed against something, pain pain-

Darkness.

A grunt roused him again. He was on the ground. The fires still burned. He needed to get away. He tried to stand. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

"Easy, kit, I know, easy," Yellowfang mewed. She helped him stand, lifting him by the scruff once more.

(She had carried him all the way up the ravine it seemed; he giggled a little deliriously, thinking about how strong she still was even after seasons of being a healer.)

Fireheart regretted being on his paws the moment Yellowfang released him. Every step to the river absolutely excruciating; phantom flames seared through his body. He coughed out smoke. It felt like he spit out hot ash.

"I-is," he wheezed, putting one aching paw in front of the other, "s'ev'ryone out?"

"Just you 'n me, kit," Yellowfang panted, voice hoarse. "Just worry about yourself." She coughed. Her gait remained steady, though, hardly jostling him even a little. His body was grateful.

Ash and smoke whirled around them. The air hurt to breathe, it was so hot. All around them the flames roared, deafening and seeking fuel. The high, thin howling of what had to be human alarms still blared an awful accompaniment. Fireheart's ears laid flat to try and muffle the noise.

"Gonna be the death of me, I swear," Yellowfang growled at him.

"Hope not," he managed to reply, voice strained. One more pawstep, just one more, one more...

The healer scoffed, which turned into a harsh cough. He felt worry under the fog of pain; she was older, this couldn't be good for her lungs.

"Never thought I'd see the day you'd become your namesake," Yellowfang chastised him once she had cleared her throat.

She led him around a bend, avoiding undergrowth they'd be forced to jump over. 

"Didn' mean to," he tried to mew. His vision was starting to spot.

He stumbled.

"Almost there, hold on," Yellowfang urged him, but he could hardly hear her over the rush in his ears. He started to purr. He was starting to not be able to feel anything at all.

His legs gave out.

Yellowfang called his name, reaching for him, eyes wide and so, so worried-

Fireheart kept purring.

The world went dark.

_

Thunderclan was in shock.

They could do nothing but watch as the flames consumed their land. As it ate through trees, and undergrowth, and any living thing in its path.

Nobody knew where Yellowfang was. Nobody knew where Fireheart was. 

(They'd reached the river without losing anyone else.)

Sandstorm huddled with Cinderpelt and Dustpelt and Brackenfur on the shore. She couldn't stop shaking. Her pelt felt weighed down and her throat hurt. She couldn't smell anything but burning leaves and fur.

Her focus was gone; her attention wandered sporadically from cat to cat. Back to the fire. To her friends, and the sky. Her clanmates again.

The queens huddled together with their kits, all worried and upset. The elders tried to groom themselves, grimaces painting their faces at the terrible taste. Various warriors and their apprentices loosely circled them, paired together to keep lookout. And all with scorched paws and burnt fur and stinking like smoke.

Their leader gazed across the river, Whitestorm at her side. She seemed to be looking for something...?

"I didn't know fire could start in new-leaf!" Swiftpaw's young voice, high and scared, reached her ears.

Sandstorm looked over. He was shivering violently into Longtail's side.

"What happened?" Someone else wondered.

"Those blasted Twolegs probably caused it," Dustpelt muttered. His fur was singed, whiskers curled and blackened from the heat.

Sandstorm didn't feel safe. Her paws ached. She watched the fire.

"Where's Dad?" One of the kits asked.

Everyone in earshot flinched.

"Hopefully alright and with Yellowfang," Frostfur mewed, but she didn't look like she believed it.

Sandstorm frowned. Nobody had seen them since they were still in camp. She hoped they weren't injured.

Or dead.

(She wasn't ready to mourn another friend.)

"Bluestar, what are you looking for?" Someone eventually called.

Sandstorm looked back over.

"Riverclan," Bluestar replied simply. Then, turning to look at her clan, "I was hoping they would come see, the nosy pests. We need Mudfur."

"Do you think we'll have to cross the river?" Cinderpelt asked, eyes wide and worried. Brackenfur beside her made a low noise.

Sandstorm glanced back toward their territory. The fires still raged. She hoped the dark sky above them meant rain, and wasn't simply from smoke.

"I might just to get the stench off," she heard someone mutter. She snorted; sounded like something Yellowfang would say.

"Yes," Bluestar nodded. Her gaze was troubled, worried like the rest of them, but steady as ever. "I wanted to wait, but..."

She trailed off unhappily; she wasn't talking about Riverclan anymore. Whitestorm leaned into her.

Sandstorm took the opportunity to really look at her mentor. His soot-covered pelt had curled in places where the flames got too close. He held one of his forepaws off the ground, most likely from a burn.

He looked determined.

"I will, after we get the clan across," he mewed.

"Alright. Are we ready?" Bluestar asked the rest of them.

Quiet. Then, hesitant nods, and low murmurs of assent.

Bluestar nodded, once. Lifted her tail.

Sandstorm stood wearily. She sighed, shook out her pelt. Her paws hurt.

"Elders with warriors, kits and queens to me..."

Chapter Text

Cinderpelt was...

Uncomfortable.

Her fur felt terrible. Her nose hurt. She kept sneezing. Her throat felt as sore as that one time she caught a cold, and all the mucus just drained right down. She could barely feel her bad leg, but when she had last looked, it had a burn right by her heel joint and what was that about, honestly. And then they all had to swim!

The fire had been bad (and terrifying) enough; her fur still felt waterlogged even after grooming it mostly dry. The freezing cold of it had chilled her right down to the bone. She felt bad for her elders. She felt bad for the kits.

She sneezed again. Her lungs hurt.

It beat being burned alive, though. Or dying in general. Riverclan had helped them. And at least her clanmates were with her.

(All but three. She wouldn't hope, but she couldn't not. She tried not to think about it.)

Except, Cinderpelt was alone, for now, at the edge of the space her clan had been granted to rest in. Her siblings were off with their mother, Sandstorm with Bluestar to help smooth things with Riverclan, and Dustpelt was... Who knew where. Her mentor and deputy was missing, her other mentor and medicine cat was missing! What else could she think about? She shook her head, annoyed.

She really, really didn't want to be in this territory. She wanted to be home. Her nerves jangled every time she heard rustling in the unfamiliar trees. Every time she scented smoke, a thrill ran down her spine. She was scared, tired, and anxious, and definitely tired of being anxious. Her body ached.

She groomed a paw free of damp soot, grimacing at the taste. She wanted to stop thinking so much.

Cinderpelt sighed as heavily as she could without triggering another coughing fit. Brindleface, who had been staring despondently across the river, turned toward her. Tilted her head curiously.

"I'm worried," she told the queen honestly. 

(She was stating the obvious, surely; Frostfur always said her face said more than her mouth.)

"We are too," Brindleface meowed hoarsely, indeed sounding worried. Her tail wrapped around her paws tightly, hugging herself.

Goldenflower, who was tending to her young kits nearby, gave a wordless mew of agreement. Cinderpelt's heart went out to them both; Fireheart was her mentor, but those three were partners. Cats who would willingly raise kits together. She couldn't imagine...

"They'll be okay, Mama." Cloud padded over from seemingly nowhere, bright pelt stained cloudy-gray. He rubbed his jaw over Cinderpelt's ears, smiling, then brushed against his adopted mother.

"I hope so," she replied with an uncomfortable shrug. Cloud purred for her, bonking his head softly into her shoulder.

She allowed her kit to comfort her for only a moment before shoving him lightly toward Goldenflower. Cinderpelt watched him roll his eyes but obey with a flick of his tail. He was smarter than a lot of cats gave him credit for, she had noticed over the moons. He had some really impressive emotional intelligence for a cat so young.

No idea where he got it from.

Cinderpelt shimmied herself over to the other gray cat, figuring she could offer herself as company and comfort instead of a kit.

(She was sick of sitting alone.)

"So. Hey," she greeted the warrior. She tried not to sneeze on her.

"Hello, Cinderpelt." Brindleface's green gaze moved back to the river.

"...did I see Graystripe back there, or was I hallucinating?" Cinderpelt prodded. She was definitely sure she had seen him, talking angrily with a pretty silver cat.

Brindleface whipped her head around.

"Did you?" Her eyes were wide. The fur down her spine bristled.

"I did," Cinderpelt nodded for emphasis; she was thrilled to get such an animated reaction!

"Did he say anything to you?! Ooh, he's lucky Fireheart isn't here-!" Brindleface's muzzle wrinkled. Her claws dug into the dirt. Her tail lashed against the ground, flipping up leaves and grass wildly.

"He didn't see me! Tell me, what did he do?" Cinderpelt had to know. "I only know what Brackenfur told me, and it wasn't much."

Brindleface growled angrily, her hoarse voice adding a hostile (and really, honestly scary) quality to it that Cinderpelt had never heard before. She sure wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that!

"He attacked Fireheart, right outside of camp!" Brindleface burst out, still snarling. Cinderpelt listened avidly. "Apparently, the Traitor had attacked Graystripe's mate, but had meant to get them instead, and that mousebrained fool blamed Fireheart for it!" 

Cinderpelt watched as Brindleface stood to pace, tail whipping back and forth.

"Fireheart told me, they were just going to visit her, congratulate her on a successful kitting! Why in the stars' name would that be his fault? And your brother protected him, as he well should have! Fireheart trained you two apprentices at once because of Graystripe's negligence! Attacking him for the actions of another cat, how dare he?!"

Brindleface fell silent, chest heaving for breath. Goldenflower, who had started watching in full interest the moment Brindleface had started shouting, nodded her agreement.

(She looked highly entertained; Cinderpelt felt a kindred soul in her.)

"Do you think he really deserved to get exiled for that?" Cinderpelt wondered aloud, head resting on her paw.

She didn't really care, but it was fun to speculate. Graystripe had abandoned her brother, his friend, and his clan. He had hurt her mentor.

She couldn't care less about him.

"I don't know and I don't care," Brindleface grumped. "He's out of our paws for good." She snorted like a dog for emphasis.

She sat abruptly, and started to groom her ruffled fur, ears flat, with anger still in the lines of her spine. 

Cinderpelt purred for her. Even if it hurt, and made her cough, it felt nice. She was very well pleased with this information!

(Brackenfur hadn't told her much beyond what he had: just that he defended their mentor. She was going to get him for that, somehow. Soon.)

"...oh, hey, you know something? I think I saw Graystripe's mate, actually. Real pretty silver tabby," she mused.

Brindleface hummed. Cinderpelt nodded, but then something occurred to her.

"Hey, wait, I've met her before!" Cinderpelt slammed a paw onto the ground in front of her.

"Really? When would you have?" Brindleface glanced at her, pausing her wash. Her tongue poked out comically.

"Back when I was an apprentice! Graystripe fell through the ice into the river, remember? He was sick for a while, but that tabby saved him from drowning!" She knew that cat had looked familiar!

"Stars, no wonder." Brindleface rolled her eyes.

"She was really brave," Cinderpelt mewed admiringly. She remembered the way her pelt had seemed to shimmer in the light, how her huge muscles strained, the way her eyes had glowed..

"A kit crush? Cute," the other warrior ribbed, an obnoxious little smirk on her face.

"Well-! If you had seen her, you would get it!" Cinderpelt defended herself. Her ears blazed.

"Sure, sure," Brindleface kept smirking, baring her fangs mockingly and ooh Cinderpelt was going to get her!

She was in the process of standing up to do just that, when Yellowfang appeared.

Alone.

Chapter Text

Yellowfang was having, frankly, the worst time right now.

The territory was still on fire. She now had a whole clan to treat for burns, much less smoke inhalation, with little to no viable medicine to treat them with, on top of the fact that their deputy was now indisposed and useless, the poor thing.

She had had to carry him again, after he collapsed.

He was far too light.

His bushy tail dragged along the ground, gathering leaf bits and burrs, and she knew she would have to groom it later. She focused on the annoyance of that, of how much ash and burnt fur she'd be tasting for at least a moon, instead of the awful burn spanning his flank and back leg. Instead of the worry (or cold fear racing through her blood), for her foolish son.

(If the last noise she ever got to hear him make was that tiny, 'I hurt really bad' purr, if the last thing she ever heard him say was an apology of all things-)

(She knew it would haunt her for the rest of her life.)

Finally, finally, she could hear the river; finally, she could see it. A brand of white stood alone on the bank of the river, on Thunderclan's side.

Whitestorm.

"Come here and help me!" She yowled through a mouthful of fur. Stars, was her kit made of nothing but fluff? Fluff for brains, more like. She stifled a cough.

The white cat hurried over as fast as he could; Yellowfang distantly took note of his limp. She laid Fireheart down, on his good side. Easy, easy...

"Stars above!" Whitestorm gasped. 

"You're telling me!" Yellowfang growled hoarsely. The wound looked ghastly. Inflamed, littered with soil and ash and burnt fur, skin blackened and oozing blood and pus...

She wanted to sigh. So hard. Her stupid, stupid kit, so foolish and brave. 

"What do you need me to do?" Whitestorm asked, voice shaky. He looked like he might be sick.

"I need you to help me get him across the river." She was loathe to move him, but she couldn't treat him here, and absolutely not with the fire so close.

"Okay, alright, okay," Whitestorm murmured, more to himself than to her.

He was the one to lift the deputy this time, as gently as he could and under her watchful eye, he made his way into the water. She tried to ignore the freezing cold of it, how it tried to steal the breath from her body; the chill had her lungs seizing immediately, triggering another coughing fit. She worried, worried.

(Hopefully it helped soothe some of the inflammation; hopefully it didn't make everything worse.)

Swimming with an unconscious burden was unsurprisingly difficult; Yellowfang did her best to support them both from the side, using her body like a dam-log to help the current wash around their burden instead of directly towards him. It was slow going, but she pushed them onward. If they got swept away, it would be the end of all of them.

But eventually, thankfully, they made it across. Whitestorm heaved for breath around Fireheart's sodden scruff. Yellowfang was...

Exhausted.

No time for that, though. She nodded to the white warrior to put their kit down. She shook her fur out, excess water flying in all directions, then studied Fireheart's wound closely. She barely registered Whitestorm coughing or doing the same; she put her ear to to his chest to check his heart and his breathing. Slow breaths, rapid pulse, and probably chilled to the core, but he was alive.

Good.

"Okay. We need to get him dry, that's the first thing. Don't want him catching something on top of this," she explained, starting to groom the red deputy. Against the grain to aid blood flow, then with it to dry, back and forth, avoiding the wound, on and on.

She needed moss, didn't matter the kind; she left them to find some. She padded up and down the bank, studying the trees with keen eyes.

Ah!

Collecting some, she dunked it with a paw into the river to soak. It wasn't when she pulled it back up, not all the way through, but. Good enough, just need it for cold, not to drink from. Padded back to her injured warrior. Pressed it onto the wound for a few moments, check for inflammation, soak it again, repeat, repeat. 

"You know, for the sake of honesty? I'm having a terrible time. Just want to make that clear," Yellowfang told Whitestorm some time later, when Fireheart was mostly dry, and some of the swelling had gone down. "This situation is awful. Just so you know."

(The wound still looked awful, too. The river and soaked moss had washed away much of the loose debris and she had done her best to clean it, but their tongues were far too rough for such a wound. What they needed was honey. Aloe. Something to really keep those invisible flesh-eaters out.)

"I hear you," Whitestorm replied, voice low.

He laid behind the red tabby, purring for him and sharing warmth. His breath suddenly caught in a cough, and looked miserable about it.

"Do you," she said, flat like a river stone. "Are you really hearing me. This is miserable, Whitestorm. This is an awful burn."

Whitestorm nodded silently, eyes on Yellowfang and not the injury. 

"He may as well be our kit, Whitestorm. I'm telling you, I hate this." This was why medicine cats never were supposed to have kits, surely. It hurt so much.

"No, I'm hearing you. Loud and clear. This is possibly the worst kind of situation." He looked so upset, so worried, her heart ached for him as well.

She knew, and hated, suddenly and passionately, that she couldn't do much more for Fireheart at the moment. That she had to leave them. But they needed Mudfur. And Mudfur's supplies.

"You understand. Good," Yellowfang stood, stretching out her legs. "You need to watch him, Whitestorm, you need to stand guard."

She padded a few paces away. Turned for one last look.

"I'll be back with Mudfur. Don't die."

And Yellowfang left.

Chapter Text

Fireheart slowly blinked into awareness.

He felt floaty. Untethered. All around him, formless blue, green, blue, blue, green.

Somehow, he knew nothing could reach him in this blue-green space: no pain, no fear, no heaviness of the self that plagued him every waking moment.

He squinted vaguely into the empty-warm space. He couldn't bring himself to care enough to really feel anything about it.

He didn't hurt, even though something in him was sure he must be.

It reminded him of being underwater, of the comfort of home. Of warm, soft fur, of the neverending expanse of the sky, of being safe.

He sighed, or tried to; his (body? he had a body still, surely?) body-self, his consciousness, felt distant. He couldn't hear himself, the usual thundering of his heart, the shifting of his fur, or anything else.

There was nothing but silence and warmth here, in this space. He closed his eyes.

He hadn't felt safe in a long, long time.

Chapter Text

Awareness came to Fireheart abruptly. One moment he was drifting, the next he was in an unfamiliar den, aching and stinking of something that smelled green, somehow.

He blinked. Lifted his head just a little.

Where was he?

"Oh!"

He violently jolted in place.

Mistake.

His entire body seized in sudden excruciating pain; his jaw clenched hard enough he could have broken rocks, a thin whine escaping his sore throat.

"Sorry, sorry, it's alright, kit, please breathe," someone was saying, trying to soothe with frantic licks to his shoulder. Pain radiated through his body; he tried, but he couldn't, couldn't-

"Easy, easy, in, with me," they rumbled, voice nothing but kind, "and out, there you go, good! In, and out, that's all you need to do."

Slowly, achingly, Fireheart relaxed. His vision was spotty, but he could breathe. His body (stars, his side) hurt like nothing he had ever felt before, but he could breathe. His heart thrummed like the wild flaps of a trapped bird, but he could breathe.

"..so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," someone was saying, sounding very sorry indeed, and Fireheart very much wanted to know who this cat was because they sounded far too familiar to be a stranger, but he, freshly exhausted and pained, couldn't lift his head again to see.

Thankfully, they moved into his line of sight.

Crookedstar's face, bent low and mere mouse-lengths from his own, looked worried.

Fireheart wished he could feel surprised.

"Alright?" The leader asked, concern in his kind voice. A large paw reached over, claws extended-

Ah. Wet moss. Fireheart drank gratefully.

"Mm."

"We weren't expecting you to wake so soon, you know," Crookedstar told him conversationally. Fireheart hazily watched him lay down. "Or at all, if some of those rumours are to be believed."

"Mm?"

"Oh, you know how some cats are," the tabby rolled his eyes, dismissive. "Always quick to assume the worst, and stars forbid anyone think positively or have hope! They're much quieter now. Your Yellowfang caused quite the scene when she caught wind of it, believe me."

Fireheart could imagine. He snorted wearily. Crookedstar smiled at him.

"Ah, but perhaps I should explain, hm? You're in our medicine den. Welcome to Riverclan," he dipped his head, smile turning a little sardonic, inviting him in on the joke.

Fireheart gave him his best wry look.

Crookedstar snorted, looking pleased.

"Your clan is back in your territory save for a few stragglers waiting with you," he said after a moment of thought. "My Mudfur and your Yellowfang have tended to them. Burns, smoke inhalation; nothing they couldn't handle. Your clan suffered no losses, save for you. Yours was the worst injury. By far."

Crookedstar's eyes bored into him. Fireheart wilted under the force of his stare. He just.

(Wasn't he too old to be scolded? Too injured?Yellowfang didn't count.)

"What do you remember?" The leader's voice turned quiet, undemanding.

"Fire in. Camp. Falling tree," Fireheart tried to mew. His voice sounded harsh to his own ears; like it, too, had been seared by flames. "Pushed... Yellowfang out of. The way."

"Ah," Crookedstar winced sympathetically. "And it caught you."

"Mhm." To say the least.

His side ached so terribly. He could see it, in his peripheral. He could see his blackened, heat-curled pelt, and how it could almost blend into the searing, blistered red of his skin. How the flames had eaten him alive. How it spanned almost his entire side.

His heart tried to beat itself out of his chest. Would he ever move normally again? Would it hurt him until he died? Would his fur ever grow back? Was he going to be bald for the rest of his life? 

"Well. It's good you aren't mind-lost," Crookedstar purred, kindly interrupting his spiral, his great paw brought up to gently nudge his forehead. "You'll be alright, kit. Yellowfang will be back soon enough."

(Crookedstar was purring for him. Him, leader of Riverclan, purring for Fireheart, an enemy. It hurt his heart as much as it comforted.)

"And I am sorry for the scare, Fireheart. You're okay?" His bright green gaze peered close, sincerity and concern in the lines of his face.

Fireheart opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. His throat had closed with sudden, intense emotion. He settled for a small nod.

He tried and failed to clear his eyes, or keep his breath steady, and Crookedstar surely saw, laying so close, but he made no mention of it, just kept purring until Fireheart calmed down. Until Fireheart eventually, emotionally and physically drained, finally relaxed.

Riverclan was lucky to have such a kind leader.

"Crookedstar? You in there?" Someone called into the den, voice rumbling and soft and Fireheart's overtired brain liked it immediately. He blinked at the leader sleepily in silent question.

"That's just Stonefur," Crookedstar murmured to him. Then, louder and looking over to the entrance, "I am, you can come in. He's awake."

Stonefur padded into the den, pawsteps light and careful. Fireheart's ears tracked his slow approach.

"Oh, welcome back," Stonefur blinked at him when their eyes met.

Fireheart felt a tired purr rise in his chest at the easy, friendly greeting. He flicked his tail-tip, seemingly the only part of his body that didn't hurt, in his own.

"I was hoping you'd wake soon, are you alright? Do you need me to get you anything? Honey?" He turned to Crookedstar, eyes flashing a little. "Where is Mudfur, Uncle?"

The pointed question sounded a tad accusing, as if the leader had somehow pushed their healer out of his own den to corner Fireheart when he woke up. As if he had been waiting on bated breath to pounce. Fireheart missed Crookedstar's reply; sudden amusement bubbled up from underneath the pain and exhaustion and he laughed.

And immediately regretted it.

" 'm okay," he murmured once he caught his breath. Stars, that hurt. He was never doing that again.

"Are you sure? I could probably find you something..." Stonefur looked distressed; Fireheart saw how his claws dug into the earth and, absurdly, wanted comfort him.

"Mhm. Can wait," Fireheart purred, an unbidden smile pulling his muzzle.

Stonefur caught his eye; his face softened and suddenly Fireheart's foggy brain could only think about what a nice color his eyes were, and of how the white ruff of fur around his neck seemed to glow in the low light of the den.

"And on that note, we should leave you to rest," Crookedstar broke in, something sly in the way he looked at them.

Fireheart had forgotten he was there.

Oops.

"Do try to rest, lad," the leader stood, voice warm but firm. "Take all the time you need."

"I'll come by again," Stonefur mewed, oddly hesitant, his tail swishing. "To actually visit, if you would like?"

Fireheart would like.

"Mhm," he agreed. He let his eyes close.

They left him alone, with a new warmth in his chest he had no idea what to do about. He focused instead on his heartbeat, on the softness beneath his body, his breathing.

In, out.

Soft conversation floated over his head; indistinct, pleasant.

("Couldn't you have waited to flirt until he's a little better?")

In. Out.

He was so warm. Comfortable, despite the pain.

("Flirt? I was not!")

In.

("Oh-ho, my apologies, I could have sworn I saw you acting like my darling late-")

Out.

("Uncle!")

In...

("Alright, alright. What was it that you needed me for...")

Fireheart didn't notice when he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

"You-! You damn fool of a kit!"

Yellowfang's unholy screech turned heads. 

Brindleface sighed, long-suffering, into her paw.

(She knew this was coming. It was never a matter of if, but when.)

"If you ever do something so stupid again I will throw your body into the river and nobody will find you! I will use your fur to line my nest, you hear?! You absolute frog-headed fool! You fluff for brains!"

Dustpelt, beside her, flattened his ears uncomfortably, looking very much like he wished he hadn't volunteered to stay behind.

She felt no sympathy. Not for him, at least.

Poor, poor Fireheart. Yellowfang had been a livid badger of a cat ever since she and Mudfur and Whitestorm had brought him, unconscious and half-dead, to Riverclan; now that he'd woken up, it seemed Yellowfang was... Well.

Loudly expressing herself as best she could.

(Brindleface was sure she was happy about it, deep down.)

She sure was. Her belly clenched with something like anxiety whenever she thought about his injuries, but she was so, so very glad he had woken up. That he was okay, despite it all. He and Goldenflower meant the world to her.

A wordless yowl of rage; several cats flinched. Brindleface sighed again.

(Deep, deep down.)

More movement caught her eye. A huge gray and white River-cat, cautiously approaching her and Dustpelt despite the noise with a pair of fish in his jaw. She watched warily.

She knew of him, of course; Stonefur of Riverclan had been a name to know since he had made warrior status seasons ago. She had even met him in battle, once or twice.

Her wariness, however, had little to do with his prowess as a warrior, and everything to do with how he always seemed to be watching the medicine den whenever she happened to see him, whenever he wasn't physically inside of it. She thought, perhaps, that maybe she was the only one to notice; nobody else seemed openly concerned with his preoccupation, or with his barely-hidden concern for an enemy warrior.

She would watch him closely. For Fireheart's safety, of course.

"Hello," Stonefur politely dipped his head to them both once he neared, dropping the fish at their paws.

"Hello," Brindleface gave him a nod in return; she could be polite, too.

"That's for us?" Dustpelt asked wearily.

She didn't know what the problem was, honestly. Fish tasted fine.

"...sorry," the gray warrior offered flatly after a beat.

His face gave nothing away, but Brindleface sensed a bit of sarcasm in there, and wasn't that interesting?

"It's fine," her companion sighed, pulling one of the fish close. He nodded silent thanks and began to eat, effectively removing himself from further conversation.

(Brindleface found his antisocial behavior charming, for some reason. Maybe he reminded her too much of Fireheart.)

"I saw you, the other evening. You were with kits?" Stonefur asked her, nudging the remaining fish with a white paw. "Please, eat your fill."

"They're fully weaned, but yes," she blinked in mild surprise that he had noticed.

"Even so," Stonefur replied, then tilted his head, a silent it's your choice. He looked like he was about to leave- that wouldn't do!

"My partner just had a litter," she told him, hopefully vague enough to entice.

(Dustpelt gave her a quick, dubious side-eye; she ignored it.)

"Oh?" The barest hint of intrigue warmed that even voice. Brindleface nodded, pleased.

"Mhm. You may as well join us, Dustpelt doesn't mind, do you?" She glanced over; he shrugged. Good enough. She looked back at Stonefur, tapped the ground with a paw. "Sit, sit."

"Oh, thank you, apologies," the warrior fumbled, hastily loweing himself as if he had only just noticed he had been towering over them.

Brindleface chuffed at him; his ears bent back a little. So he could be embarrassed! She reached for the offered prey, still smirking.

May as well eat.

"You have multiple litters?" Stonefur asked once he settled comfortably, face blank again.

(His ears betrayed him, though, sitting forward in interest. Brindleface thought it cute, in a way.)

"Yes, two," she mewed through a mouthful. Warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought of all of her precious children. "And you?"

"No, none," he shook his head slightly. "My sister, though. Mistyfoot. She had one."

"Congratulations," she smiled.

"He saved them from the river," Stonefur tilted his head at the medicine den, indicating Fireheart, eyes squinted slightly.

Dustpelt made an odd choking noise; she fought to not laugh at him.

("She was really brave," Cinderpelt had mewed, voice full of praise, eyes warm, speaking of a warrior who had done something similar.

A kit crush, Brindleface had called it.)

Stonefur looked similarly admiring; he looked the same.

Now, Brindleface was many things. Smart, clever, a good parent. Harsh, sometimes. Brash, headstrong, stubborn? Often.

Unobservant? Never.

This was all very, very interesting. She was starting to like this warrior.

(She was so very glad she had stayed behind. A plan began to unfurl in her mind.)

"Our Fireheart is quite the risk-taker, isn't he," she hid a quick, sneaky smile behind a paw.

"Seems so," Stonefur smiled slightly.

"I want to say I can't believe he would go so far as to take a flaming tree for someone, but that would be a lie," Brindleface scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Jumping into a river seems less dramatic in comparison."

Stonefur huffed a small laugh.

"How does he expect to look after our kits if he's dead?" She shook her head with true exasperation despite herself. "Honestly."

Stonefur froze.

(And without even saying anything, he had confirmed her suspicion. In the privacy of her mind, she crowed with delight.)

"Ah. Are you," he hesitated. He glanced at Dustpelt, who glared at him, then back to her. "Are you mates?"

Brindleface hummed, considering the remnants of her prey. She washed a paw, watched him subtly shift.

...she should probably stop messing with him.

"Nope! Just partners. Den-parents who raise kits together, that's all," she explained.

"I see." Stonefur relaxed a little, ears perking back up.

She briefly thought through her options. Tell him, don't tell him... Her tail tapped decisively.

"Nobody's told him anything, if you get me," she mewed, sitting up to look straight into those oddly familiar blue-green eyes. 

Dustpelt made another odd cut-off noise; Brindleface ignored him again. Not like he was his mate, after all. The poor fool wouldn't ever confess even on pain of death. He had no right to complain if someone else, even from another clan, expressed interest first.

"Meaning..?" Stonefur tilted his head like he didn't know what she was getting at.

Seriously?

She stood with an eye-roll, bowing into a long stretch. Made him wait for an answer to that dumb question. She took her time; her muscles ached still, from her full-body sprint, from desperately swimming the river more than once, from carrying kits and elders back and forth.

She felt Stonefur's cool gaze on her pelt all the while; she remained unbothered.

"I mean," she stressed once finished, staring right back, "that you might have a chance, mousebrain."

He blinked wide, startled eyes.

Exasperation had her rolling her own again. Did these fools ever use their heads?

Her issue with Graystripe hadn't been about his choice of mate; as if she would care about "forbidden relationships". Her own kits' sire hadn't been from the territories, and she dared anyone at all to fight her over it. As long as loyalty to one's clan won out, as long as everyone was safe, she felt it didn't matter one bit.

(Not that how she felt was obvious to others. She forgot, sometimes, that her thoughts weren't words. That her stance wasn't widely accepted, despite living memory proving her right.

Whatever. Let him think about it. She was done talking with him.)

"Do what you want with that," she shrugged. "Yellowfang sounds finished, so I'm going to go see him. Thank you for the food."

Stonefur made a small noise, half a laugh, half something else she didn't feel like deciphering. She gave him and Dustpelt (who looked struck speechless) a nod, then turned to leave.

Maybe it was too abrupt, maybe not. She couldn't care; it was time to see, for herself, how her other, foolishly brave partner was doing.

Chapter Text

Fireheart had nothing to do.

Yellowfang had warned him, stern and worried, not to move around too much. Mudfur had been the same; he had just been a little nicer about it.

He groomed his paws aggressively, minding his injuries. He was alone, he was bored, and he couldn't leave, couldn't even get up!

It was annoying.

Random visitors brought some relief, at least; conversation at least gave his mind something to focus on that wasn't his itchy aching side, or the uninteresting walls of the den. He could only count the different weave patterns so many times before it got old.

He tried not to be angry with any of them, he really did. It wasn't their fault. He knew they meant well.

It was just.

The platitudes and well-wishes and soft encouragement given to him by his visitors, the comfort that he had once offered Cinderpelt, now all but thrown back in his face felt... Empty.

Hollow. Like ash on his tongue.

(He hoped he hadn't made her feel like this.)

Thank the stars for Brindleface, honestly. 

When she visited, she always had some news, whether it be about the River-cats, or how Dustpelt couldn't stand some new prey, or simply how things were going in Thunderclan. Even if he couldn't do anything, hearing about their home was at least something. Even if he couldn't go see them, he knew Goldenflower and their kits were alright.

Brindleface didn't ask him outright how he was, not after the first time. She hadn't even scolded him.

("We love you, you fool," she had told him gruffly. Her cheek had been soft against his. "We want you around, don't you know that already?"

He hadn't been able to respond.)

She had made it clear that what was on his mind was his own business, and if he wanted to share, she would listen. If he wanted comfort, she would provide. But otherwise, she left him alone about it.

It was nice.

Her increasingly pointed questions, though, about Stonefur, were not as nice. Irritating even, which he could appreciate the spirit of, if not enjoy.

He tugged at one of his claws, spitting out the split-off when it cracked away. Tasted like soot, even now.

Gross.

Rustling from the den entrance had his ears perking back up. Someone to visit?

Whoever they were called to him with an odd sort of trill (like a little dove, he thought) that was becoming increasingly familiar to him. Then it changed, asking wordlessly if they could enter. He couldn't tell who it was; it didn't matter.

(That odd cooing, it was a Riverclan greeting, he had learned. Something they use for friends, for their loved ones. Something about that hurt, and he didn't know why.)

More rustling, then quiet pawsteps. His ears followed them. They sat nearby, but not too close. Their scent brushed his nose; watery, flowery, a little fishy. He looked up.

"Hey, Fireheart," his visitor greeted with a smile, elegant tail draped over large paws.

"Silverstream," he dipped his head.

"Not too bored, are you?" She tilted hers, knowingly.

"What are you talking about?" He rolled his eyes. "It's been great, nothing to do, staring at walls all night. I love it."

Silverstream snorted at his flat tone. Then, apologetically, "I'm sorry I haven't been by much, you know. Wasn't avoiding you on purpose."

"It's fine, I get it," he flipped his tail in a shrug. "I know you're busy."

"I'm not, honestly," she laughed a little despite something like irritation flashing in her eyes. "Kits aren't that much trouble."

"Graystripe, then." Resignation and a muted kind of anger itched at his lungs.

Silverstream huffed out a sigh, but nodded. Her tail tapped in clear aggravation, but that was the only sign; if she was a less composed cat, Fireheart imagined her claws would be gripping the ground, fangs bared. He admired that, about her.

"I understand why he'd be angry with you, I do," she mewed evenly, stilling her tail. "I just don't understand why I should be. You're still my friend."

(Fireheart understood it, too. He got it. He just couldn't decide fully if he was more angry or sad, most of the time.)

"I wouldn't blame you, if you didn't want to be," he mumbled, laying his head down. "Tigerclaw hurt you because of me."

"He would have gone after me anyway and you both know it. You didn't do it," Silverstream rolled her eyes. She laid down as well, tucking her paws close.

"That cat was a menace! He hated you and my father, and what better way to get to you both than through me?" She shook her head with a scornful look. "Mud-brained fool. I could have thought of a better plan. Not be stupid, for one."

Never in his life had he heard someone disrespect Tigerclaw so freely or so completely. Fireheart tried very, very not to laugh; last time was lesson enough, but it was difficult, especially in the face of her bald annoyance that Tigerclaw had done it badly.

It hurt, to laugh. But then Silverstream laughed with him, and it. It was nice.

"So," he tried, giggling breathlessly, "what would- how would you do it?"

"What, kill you?" She hid a snort into her fur.

"Uh-huh," he stifled another snicker into his paws. "How would you do it? Hunting patrol, ambush, what?"

"Poison," was the prompt answer, setting him off again.

"Poison," he wheezed. His body curled inward; he ignored the strain.

"Yeah! Medicine cats know so many herbs, no way that hasn't happened before. It'd be so easy, too. Get some redberries, stuff it in some prey, and bam!" Silverstream swished her tail close in emphasis, eyes gleaming. "Dead and gone, problem solved."

"Incredible, well done," he praised with a snorting laugh, cutting himself off with a flinch as the ache suddenly grew into spasms of fire.

Damn.

"Stars, sorry," Silverstream mewed, coming close to groom his ears as he tried forcing his body to relax. "Shouldn't have made you laugh, that's my fault."

"Stonefur did too," he panted. "'s fine, I'm alright."

Silverstream backed away, but only just.

"Hey. Look at me?"

Fireheart didn't realize he had closed his eyes.

Silverstream's gaze was soft, sympathetic. Her paw came up to rest on his, giving him something to feel. She breathed in, loudly. Exaggerating for him. Then out, steadily. In, out. He matched her, thinking of Crookedstar doing the same thing for him not too long ago.

Kindness must run in the family.

"Tired of this," he murmured eventually, on the end of a sighing exhale. He hurt. He was so, so tired of being in pain, all the time.

"It'll get better," Silverstream soothed, rasping her tongue over his head. "Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, or even a moon from now. But it won't last forever."

"Feels like it will," he muttered.

"It won't," she bit his ear lightly in admonishment. "I'm smarter than you, you should listen to me."

"Since when?" Fireheart sniffed, eying his friend when she reared back with mock-offence.

"Since you jumped into a flooded river!" She shot back, eyes narrow.

"Which time?" 

"Which- what do you mean which time-"

"Anyway I don't want to hear that from you, 'clan leader's daughter', taking an outsider mate and just believing it'll all be fine-"

"As if you have paws to stand on! I'm sure your clanmate would love to tell me all about your little-"

"Don't you dare!"

"Do I need to break this up?" A painfully familiar voice asked, tone wary.

Fireheart hid a flinch, mood dropping so quickly he felt nauseous. Silverstream jerked her head up, playful glare lightening immediately into a smile.

"Graystripe!"

His former friend slowly padded into the den; Fireheart's ears flattened the closer he got. He could feel that gaze burning through his pelt, boring into his heart when their eyes accidentally met.

"Hey," Graystripe nodded to them both. He brushed cheeks with Silverstream, but his attention remained on Fireheart.

Yellow eyes (once warm and welcoming, once friendly) raked over Fireheart's body, his injuries. The uncomfortable attention had him fighting another flinch. He brought his tail close, glad the excess of fur could cover some of his flank. That it didn't hurt to do so.

"Hi." He couldn't make his voice sound anything but flat. He looked away.

He could feel Graystripe still staring, and hadn't anyone ever told him it was beyond impolite? That that was a quick way to start a fight? His fur started to bristle.

"Oh, look at that, Father's calling me," Silverstream mewed abruptly, breaking the stilted silence and very obviously lying.

"I'll see you later, don't die!"

And suddenly, she was gone. And suddenly, Fireheart and Graystripe were alone, for the first time in seasons.

"Did you just come to stare?" Fireheart nearly growled when Graystripe failed to say anything. "Wow, look at Fireheart getting what he deserves, injured and vulnerable, easy pickings?"

Too aggressive, Fireheart, what are you doing picking a fight right now-

"No, no," Graystripe stammered, eyes wide and taken aback when Fireheart shifted to glare up at him.

"Then why are you here. Huh? To gloat? Do you hate me that much?" His fangs bared unconsciously.

"No! No, I," Graystripe flinched back, stopped, hurt flashing in his eyes and Fireheart could not care.

His claws scored divots into the sandy ground, tearing through his nest as he waited for the gray warrior to say something, anything else. An apology, a scolding for talking to his mate, whatever. Just. Something.

"I wanted to- I didn't realize," Graystripe faltered, tail lashing wildly. Fireheart watched him take a deep breath with narrow eyes.

"I didn't know how bad it was," the gray warrior finally whispered, his head bowing a little. "I didn't know you almost died."

Fireheart bit back the first few remarks he could make; they were unkind at best, hateful at worst. 

(As angry as he was at this cat, he had never wanted to be cruel. And he had never truly thought Graystripe had wanted him dead.)

"Surprise," he settled on, not bothering to curb his dark tone. "It's almost like things keep trying to kill me."

Graystripe visibly winced but tilted his head, acknowledging the point. He looked like he didn't quite know what to say to that.

Served him right, in Fireheart's opinion.

Silence permeated the den again. Fireheart let his fur lie flat; Graystripe wasn't looking to fight with him, apparently. Anger drained out of him slowly, leaving him empty. Drained. Aching.

(These conversations were starting to exhaust him in ways he didn't even know he could be; this was why he didn't like feelings, Whitestorm. Stars above.)

"So, what," Fireheart asked at length, head on his paws again and eyes flicking away. He couldn't muster up enough energy to put any feeling into his voice. "What do you want to say, Graystripe."

The gray warrior took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry."

Fireheart blinked at the far wall of the den.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry I didn't believe you about- about the danger, about Tigerclaw, and I'm sorry I left how I did," he burst out, words rushing as if he didn't get them out, now, he would die.

Or something.

"And I'm glad you-" Graystripe's voice broke. He cleared his throat harshly, then tried again, sounding choked.

"I am so, so happy you're alive."

Fireheart's vision blurred.

"Come here," he ordered gruffly, jerking his head in emphasis.

Graystripe tripped over his paws in his haste, nearly tumbling into Fireheart's body. Fireheart, in turn, lifted his head up just in time to bunt it into the gray warrior's, knocking their skulls together painfully but he didn't care. Graystripe's hesitant purr thundered in his ears; his heart trembled with just how much he had missed hearing it.

"I haven't forgiven you yet," he made sure to say, even as he leaned in harder.

"That's fine," Graystripe huffed a small laugh into his ear. "I'm not gonna make you."

"You couldn't."

"And I wouldn't try."

Chapter Text

Shadepaw wasn't too proud to admit being a little sad that their guests were leaving.

Brindleface was hilariously dry, reminding her of her mentor; Dustpelt kept more to himself, but was a decent guest, overall. And Yellowfang, stars, she was like a gust of fresh, if somewhat acerbic, wind. And poor Fireheart with his burnt, maple leaf coat, he was funny, she could admit that, and oh boy. She didn't know what he did, but Stonefur was not subtle in his interest, no way.

She shook her head at her fish. Getting sidetracked, Shade.

Anyway. She liked those Thunderclanners, and it was a shame they were leaving, honestly. She would miss Brindleface's knowing smirks, Dustpelt's annoyance at eating one more fish, Yellowfang's rough kindness, and even Fireheart's irritation with the world. She liked them!

She also maybe hoped that they appreciated how good of hosts Riverclan made! She wasn't too proud, but she was proud of her home. Of the beauty in the reeds, in the river, in the quiet shadows underneath the willows. In the clinking of shells underpaw, in the splashes of kits and warriors at play, in the glitter of fish scales under moonlight. Maybe Thunderclan had something similar?

Something to ask about maybe, at the next gathering. She would try to remember!

Red, in her peripheral.

And dark and pale gray, and brown, and oh, they really were leaving, huh. Some part of her kind of hoped they wouldn't! Or maybe, never thought they would? She watched Fireheart limp from the den, pale green eyes bright and annoyed, his companions quietly chatting with each other, Yellowfang leading the way with her fluffy tail high but a sour look on her face, and had to stifle a small laugh. From just these four, one could think that that side of the forest just made cats poor-tempered! Thunderclan, home of the reserved, she thought with a quiet smile. They definitely needed to spend more time in Riverclan, if only to lighten up a bit!

She watched Crookedstar approach the group easily with a kindly expression, and was glad all over again that he was leader; he was so cool. Her mentor stood a few paces back, eyes very obviously fixed on the red warrior, and she had to roll her own. Stars, Stonefur, be less obvious. Leopardfur looked approachable for once, even smiling a little, wow.

(Not that Shadepaw hated her deputy, no; it was just, everyone knew where Leopardfur's strengths lay, and where they they were not. Nobody in the clan ever expected her to be social, that was all.)

Anyway. Shadepaw finished up her meal, crunching up bones quick-as-you-please, and stood for a speedy stretch; time to say her own goodbyes!

-

Fireheart was starting to really hate the feeling of stuff in his fur. Of water. He already didn't enjoy walking in dew, or swimming; now sopping wet and dripping river water, he wanted to curse. His side ached, tight and now heavy and damp.

He shook out violently, uncaring of his clan-mates' yelps; he hated it. Get it off, get off, get off-

"Chill, Fire," Brindleface murmured, a paw lifted to stop him. It trembled when it touched him.

Huh.

"I'm cool, I'm fine," he tried. Why was it hard to breathe.

"You're not fine, sit down," Yellowfang mewed quietly, bunting her head into his shoulder. "Count your breaths."

Fireheart sat heavily, chest shuddering. Why, why was he- nothing happened, he was more or less healed, wasn't he?

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but despite that, he could hear the river; focused on that instead. He breathed. Counted. Breathed some more.

Belatedly, once he could think, it occurred to him that maybe this was just a response to almost getting burned alive; stuff, in his fur. Possibly. Probably.

"What was all that about," Dustpelt asked blandly. Concern sat in the tilt of his ears, in his squint, but stars help a fool if one points it out.

"Dunno," Fireheart lied. He breathed. Tried not to shake.

"Sure," Dustpelt snorted, almost amused, clearly not believing him. "Fine. You good?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, don't give me that look," Fireheart added at Brindleface's look, trying for annoyed, probably just sounded desperate instead. "Let's go, I'm fine."

"You're talking about this later," Yellowfang warned, but allowed him to stand. Exasperation had her sounding as aggravated as he felt, stars. They really were too similar.

"Sound like Cinderpelt," he grumbled instead of thinking about that more. "I'll be fine if we move on. Get home."

"Fine," Yellowfang sighed, rolling her eyes when he met them. He fought to not do the same.

"Betcha anything he just wants to see our kits," Brindleface ribbed easily, kindly letting him lean on her shoulder. She was warm, and solid. "It's been what, little over a moon?"

He huffed; she wasn't wrong, but she didn't need to point it out.

"Sandstorm told me there might be some ceremonies when we get back," Dustpelt mewed neutrally like he wasn't looking forward to it as much as everyone else. "Not today, but soon."

Fireheart tried very hard to not think about how it felt like much, much too soon for his kits to be without him, without them. He tried very, very hard to remember that they were ready, that it was okay for kits to grow up; he only mostly succeeded.

(He was glad for the distraction, even if it hurt, too.)

He cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware of Yellowfang's sunset stare as he limped alongside his partner.

"Excited?" He asked Dustpelt.

The warrior simply turned his head and rolled his eyes, a silent 'obviously'.

Fireheart didn't know why he tried.

He fell silent again, focussing on his pawsteps, on Brindleface and her purr, on Dustpelt's tail as it waved back and forth in front of him, on Yellowfang on his other side glaring at him hard enough to-

Ah.

"Pff," he breathed, a stupid joke rolling through his head. Nobody here would like it.

He says it anyway.

"Gonna set me on fire again, Yellowfang?"

Silence.

"Fireheart."

He couldn't help but laugh, more a wheeze than anything, at the sheer deadpan. Oh, stars.

"Say that around Goldenflower," Brindleface suggested. Pleasantly.

Pff.

"I might," he mewed just to be contrary. She jostled him a little with a snort; she wasn't too mad, he could tell. Her eyes were smiling even if she avoided looking at him.

Yellowfang sighed something heavy, muttering curses under her breath. Dustpelt remained wisely silent. Ha.

See, Fireheart could make jokes about it. He was fine.

They spent the remainder of the journey in relative silence, small conversations popping up and dying out, all eager to finally be home. Fireheart was sure of it. He liked Riverclan, it was fine, but he missed being near his kits, and Goldenflower, and Whitestorm and Cinderpelt, and he wanted to see how the clan had been doing after so long without him, if they'd been happier without him, and-

He didn't know if he was ready to go back to being deputy. Eyes on him, constantly, looking to him to make every decision it felt like, and stars he was tired just thinking about it.

Fireheart sighed. Wondered if anyone would even want his position. He'd have to talk to Bluestar.

Eventually.

-

The next evening, after some rest, found Fireheart, his partners, and their kits all gathered just inside the kit den, waiting for their leader.

"D'you think we're ready?"

Fernkit pawed at the ground, her round face pinched with worry. Ashkit headbutted her shoulder with a little purr, while Cloud paced around them with a high tail.

"I do," Fireheart said mildly. He laid his tail over his flank, a new habit. He looked at his three kits, something sad panging in his chest. As much as he wanted to keep them kits forever, it wouldn't be right. They were almost grown, after all.

And taller than you, haha, says the Cinderpelt in his head. He ignored her.

"You learned a lot from Mousefur, didn't you?" Goldenflower mewed around Bramblekit's fluff, and continued at Fernkit's nod. "And Runningwind, and Longtail, right? You'll be just fine."

"You still won't tell me who, will you," Brindleface murmured in an aside to Fireheart, her tail tapping with annoyance.

"Definitely not now, where would the fun be?" He smirked, flashing a bit of fang, and felt meanly pleased that she couldn't roughhouse with him like normal. Must be killing her.

She squinted at him. He stared back.

"Quit it," Goldenflower ordered, voice muffled by Tawnykit. "No arguing before a ceremony, you know better."

Fireheart puffed a breath at her; Brindleface snorted. Bramblekit, the tiny thing, tried to climb over Fireheart's haunches, babbling kit-speak.

Cute.

"Careful," he crooned, bending carefully to gently nudge the kit off of him. He flipped his tail instead, enticing him and his sister (released from Goldenflower's big paws) to chase. They stumbled, but their eyes were huge in the low light, clumsy paws eager to play. Just adorable.

He turned back to his older kits, a purr in his chest. They looked back at him with a range of expressions; worried, anxious, wary.

"You'll be alright. I trust these warriors. They'll be good to you. And if they aren't," Fireheart paused, letting his slight smile widen, letting his teeth show, letting his ears fall flat, "you let us know. And we'll handle it. Okay?"

The three kits traded looks with each other, faces lightening. Brindleface purred, tugging Cloud close to groom his ruff, nudging the other two toward Goldenflower and Fireheart for a quick groom. They went easily, not a peep of disagreement, and Fireheart felt so much love for his family, he could burst. His purr rose in volume, heart so very warm.

"Everyone, gather around for a clan meeting!"

Bluestar.

"Oh! That's us!" Ashkit yelped. The fur on his tail bushed out.

"It certainly is," Brindleface chuffed. She stood to shake out her pelt, long-furred tail rising high. "Best get a move on, don't you think?"

"Finally!" Cloud crowed, expression as eager and open as ever, and Fireheart loved him so much.

He loved every single one of his kits so, so very much. Fernkit, with her stubbornness, Ashkit with his thoughtfulness, Cloud with his enthusiasm, all growing up so fast, and now little Bramble and Tawny, so very small and new..

Stars.

Fireheart traded looks with Goldenflower and Brindleface as their kits scrambled out of the den, tripping over themselves and causing quite a scene as they tumbled out, no doubt. Goldenflower gathered up their little ones; at her look, Brindleface and Fireheart scruffed them to bring out as well. Naming ceremonies were better with everyone present, after all.

Fireheart purred around the kit in his jaw as he limped out, blinking against the setting sunlight. Goldenflower snorted at the face he made. He plopped Tawnykit down right in front of her in revenge, causing her to halt, causing Brindleface to walk into her, and Fireheart could do nothing but laugh at their grumbling as he abandoned them to sit by Bluestar, as was (unfortunately) custom.

"Ought to be nicer," she murmured once he settled, but there was mischief in her eyes.

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that?" He haughtily tossed his head like he'd seen Sandstorm do.

"Pff," Bluestar huffed, smiling. "You really love them, don't you."

"Of course I do," Fireheart smiled back, swishing his tail close. He didn't know if she meant his partners or his kits, but the answer was the same.

He absolutely loved them all.

"Very good. Ready?" Bluestar shot him a fanged smile, something challenging in there, and who would he be if he didn't rise to it?

"Born to be, wasn't I?" He tilted his head mildly, matching her expression.

Bluestar snorted, nodded, and turned to the clan, letting loose a sharp yowl to get everyone's attention. Once eyes and ears all focused on her, she began.

"Thank you, Thunderclan! Tonight marks an important night for three of Our youngsters!"

A cheer rose and quieted swiftly.

"We are pleased to announce that they are indeed ready to formally join Our clan, as Warriors in training, where they will learn to fight, hunt, and live for Us, as We all do the same in turn," Bluestar declared, a blazing light in her eyes, power in her voice. Fireheart was mesmerized.

"Fern."

"Yes ma'am." Fernkit bravely stepped forward, all tall ears and trembling tail.

(Fireheart was so proud of her.)

"We admire your boldness, your determination, and your willpower," Bluestar mewed. "We welcome you, and We shall all know you as Fernpaw, until the day you become Warrior."

"Th-thank you!" Fernpaw stumbled, somehow trembling even more. Her face said pride. It said finally.

"Bluestar, Warrior Leader, shall be your mentor."

(Fireheart had secretly thought it funny when she had told him the process, way back when; he fought to stay silent now, hearing her refer to herself in that way. Pff.)

Fernpaw looked shocked- everyone looked shocked, stars. Brindleface's expression was amazing. It took everything he had to not wheeze at her, sun and moon his witnesses. In his distraction, he missed Bluestar's next words, but he definitely noticed Fernpaw retreat to sit back by her mothers, and Ashkit pad up with his bushed tail nearly tucked. Poor dear.

"Ash."

"Y-yes ma'am," Ashkit nodded, shoulders a little hunched.

(Chin up, kit, Fireheart thought. You're doing so well.)

"We see your thoughtfulness, your cunning, and your caution. We welcome you, and We all shall know you as Ashpaw, until the day comes that you are made Warrior." Bluestar paused to smile at him.

"Your mentor will be Warrior Dustpelt."

Ashpaw perked up at that- Dustpelt was a fine warrior, and he would treat him well, Fireheart knew. He was glad his kits approved of their mentors, honestly. He watched Ashpaw tentatively smile back at their leader, at his new mentor, at Fireheart even, before he moved to sit with the rest of their family.

"Cloud."

"Yes ma'am!" Cloud sat tall, eyes avid on their leader, smiling wide.

(Fireheart loved him so much.)

"You were once new to Us, and Our way of life, and yet We see your enthusiasm, your love, and your kindness. We welcome you, fully, and from now until you are Warrior, you shall be known as Cloudpaw."

"Thank you!" Cloudpaw mewed loudly, purring and kneading the ground in his happiness.

(Fireheart thought he was the most precious thing to exist.)

"Your mentor shall be Warrior Sandstorm."

"Yes!" Cloudpaw hopped up, joy in every mouselength of him, fluffy tail held high and curled, bright blue eyes hidden in his squint. Fireheart wanted to smother him in a hug, he wanted to crow his pride from the Great Sycamore, he wanted to-

"We welcome you three! Fernpaw! Ashpaw! Cloudpaw!" Bluestar started the chant; she was easily overtaken by the rest of the clan.

(Fireheart almost wanted to leave with how loud they all were. His ears hurt. He was momentarily jealous of Cloudpaw and Willowpelt.)

"Take a few minutes' rest, kits, get congratulated," Bluestar smiled at the apprentices, then hopped down from her perch. "Training starts today!"

The cheering had yet to stop, but Fireheart took that cue to mean he could get up and stretch; sitting too long got him all stiff and he hated it. Downward bow, forepaws clawing the ground, then arch the back, nice and easy-

"Dad! We did it!" Fernpaw hopped up to him, green eyes delighted. Her brothers followed, and suddenly Fireheart was being smothered by his kits, all grays and whites and they were so big, when did that happen? Tall, taller than him, now. His vision blurred, a little.

"I'm so proud of you all," he got out, divvying nuzzles and licks to anyone he could reach, purring like his life depended on it. He loved them, he loved them, he loved them. His chest ached.

"I love you, I am so, so proud, I love you, I love you," his voice broke, and vanished. He couldn't find it again, but they needed to know, he couldn't tell them if he couldn't say anything-

"We know," Cloudpaw soothed, ever the sweet one, as he pressed close. "I love you too!"

"Me too, me too!" Ashpaw broke in with a purr, "love you lots, Dad!"

Fernpaw wound around them, rumbling wordlessly in her happiness.

Fireheart was so very proud of them; so full of love, of joy, of anticipation for who they might grow up to be.

He would be there to see it, moon and sun his witnesses.

Chapter Text

Brindleface padded into camp with a goal in mind. She needed to find her littermate. She swung her head around, eyes searching.

Ah. There she was, right by the warrior's den, food at paw, with a few other warriors nearby taking their own breaks.

Brindleface stalked over silently.

"Hey, Frost."

Frostfur jerked in place, mouth full. Her wide, dark eyes quickly found Brindleface.

"Got a question for you," Brindleface mewed lowly, seriously.

"Mm?" Frostfur swallowed. "What is it?"

"Would you be interested in being deputy?"

Frostfur choked on nothing, abruptly coughing into her half-eaten rabbit. Brindleface snorted. A few heads turned to see what the commotion was, but upon noticing the littermates, their faces turned sympathetic for her sister.

Ha.

"Sorry," she laughed, not trying to sound sorry at all.

"Stars, why are you asking that all of the sudden?" Frostfur got out after clearing her throat.

"Oh, reasons," Brindleface shrugged, then nodded at her sister's prey. "Join me outside?"

"Fine, sure," Frostfur sighed, such a heavy thing, but stood, picking up her food after a quick stretch. Nodded.

Brindleface flicked her tail as she turned back around to leave camp once more; she didn't hate it, but it certainly wasn't the kind of conversation she wanted to have publicly. For her partner's sake, at least.

She led Frostfur through the singed but leafy gorse tunnel, up the sandy ravine, and around a few blackened trees until she was sure nobody would be around to overhear. Once she found a good spot, she stopped. Turned to her sister.

Frostfur's bright pelt stood out like the moon above them, eyes gleaming in the light, and with half a rabbit hanging from her jaw she looked like one of Yellowfang's menacing spirits. Her plumy tail kinked in a silent question.

"Quit looking scary," Brindleface told her, then sat down. "This is good."

Frostfur huffed through her nose and sat herself, dropping her food to give her her best eye roll. "What'd you want?"

"Told you already. How do you feel about being deputy?" Brindleface didn't bother playing around the bush. She drew her tail close.

"Seriously? Not opposed," Frostfur mewed, tipping her head to the side. Concern pulled at her mouth. "Is Fireheart okay?"

"No," Brindleface smiled. It wasn't a happy one.

Frostfur settled into a crouch, absorbing that. She stared at her prey blankly. Brindleface let her be; she needed to groom her paws, anyway.

Silence, in the forest. Nothing but wind in the trees, crickets in the air. Quiet.

By the time she finished, Frostfur had also finished her food, having eaten it as she thought. She cleared her throat.

"I haven't had an apprentice," Frostfur meowed doubtfully, but it didn't sound like a no.

"I think raising four kits to apprentice age is experience enough," Brindleface argued regardless. "We would promise Tawnykit to you." And the clan would deal.

Frostfur's ears bent back a little.

"Maybe. Brindle," she stopped, really looked at her. "Really, what's this about?" 

"I'm worried," Brindleface confessed, heart wrenching painfully. "It's killing him, I know it. It already almost killed him. He almost died saving Yellowfang! It's too much, Frost."

"For him? Or for you?" Frostfur asked knowingly, but Brindleface shook her head.

"For all three of us, and our kits, and Yellowfang, and Whitestorm, and your kits, and I'm tired of seeing him retreat back into himself and I'm tired of seeing him hurt!" She burst out, claws gripping the ground for stability.

She took a moment to breathe under Frostfur's sympathetic stare.

"Either you or Whitestorm, Frost. You would be suited, and you were Bluestar's apprentice, too," she said quietly.

Frostfur got up, padded over, and leaned into her side with a purr.

"I'm not saying no," she rumbled, voice gentle. "I'm worried about him, too."

Brindleface sighed heavily. Something akin to relief bloomed in her gut. Her head sagged into her littermate.

"Thank you. Think about it?"

"Of course I will, you think I'm stupid?" Frostfur snorted, then shoved her lightly. "But I'll probably say yes, you know."

"Pf," Brindleface puffed a breath, almost a laugh. "Might be a good leader one day, who knows."

"Might be?" Frostfur reared back with mock annoyance. "I'll be deputy just to get you, now!"

Her whiskers flared playfully; she crouched low, tail whipping side to side. Her paw moved, slowly, slowly.

"Not if I get you!" Brindleface dodged the pawswipe and pounced. She already felt so much lighter.

Up next came Bluestar.

-

"So if you don't wanna do that, what do you want?" Cloudpaw asked. His tail curled in question, disturbing some dust on the ground and staining his dark-tipped tail pale gray. Yuck!

"I dunno, rain-cloud. What do you think I should do?" Fireheart purred even as he demonstrated a mean-looking claw swipe at an imaginary enemy. His claws looked sharp, and his form was so clean even despite being all sore and stiff and Cloudpaw was kind of jealous!

(But not of the injury. Stars, he'll have nightmares for seasons.)

"Hmm." He didn't know! There weren't many jobs to do in Thunderclan. "If you're gonna step down, you'll be a regular warrior, right?"

"I will," Fireheart nodded. His sharp eyes glanced around, ears pricking at some noise Cloudpaw couldn't hear. Something in the bushes? Maybe Sandstorm, on her way back?

"Do you wanna do that?" Cloudpaw tilted his head. "You get those weird dreams, right? Maybe you could work with Yellowfang!"

"I've thought about it." Bright green looked at him, squinted in a small smile. "Think I'd be any good?"

"Yeah!" Cloudpaw hopped up, deciding in that moment that his dad was done with all that moving around. He nudged him to sit, and was once again a little weirded out that he had to look down, now.

"Don't know if I care for herbs all that much though," Fireheart muttered, but Cloudpaw heard it, standing so close. He didn't like the taste either! Always so gross.

"Do you care for being deputy?" He sat close enough for their pelts to merge. He felt Fireheart jerk in surprise.

"Moon, when did you get so smart," he laughed, surprise in the tilt of his ears. "I guess I don't!"

"Means you can try something new, right?" Cloudpaw smiled back at him. He was glad he got a laugh! "I wouldn't wanna talk to all those dead cats, though. That's weird."

"It is weird. I don't know why they like bothering me so much," Fireheart rolled his eyes. "I don't know why they don't go to Yellowfang, seriously."

"Spottedleaf thinks you're funny," Sandstorm suddenly mewed clearly, having padded up all sneaky while Cloudpaw wasn't paying attention. He might've startled.

"She can think that privately," Fireheart groused, but Cloudpaw was stuck on that name. Has he heard it before?

"Who's that?" 

"Spottedleaf? My aunt," Sandstorm mewed. She looked away sadly. "She was Thunderclan's medicine cat before Yellowfang got here."

"Oh, I have heard of her!" Cloudpaw kneaded the ground, pleased with himself. "Yellowfang mentions her sometimes, says she was weird and too nice."

Fireheart choked on his sudden laughter; Sandstorm squinted at him like she was debating on pouncing. Cloudpaw figured Yellowfang was right just based off of that.

"That's not very nice to say," Fireheart wheezed, but it didn't sound like a reprimand, so Cloudpaw chose to not feel bad about it. He shrugged.

"Sorry. But hey, maybe learning that stuff would be cool! And we could spend more time together!" Stars, but he missed his dad, seriously.

"Joint training sessions?" Fireheart glanced at Sandstorm knowingly. "You want to learn too, right?"

She tossed her head, all haughty, but Cloudpaw saw her pleased grin. A thought then occurred to him.

"Would Bluestar change your name back to Firepaw?"

"I would hope not," Fireheart griped. His tail lashed once, twice. "She already almost did that once, for a punishment."

"What did you do, wait," Cloudpaw shook his head, trying to stay on topic. "No, wait, so is it different for medicine cats, then?"

"You want to stop being deputy?" Sandstorm asked. Her ears pricked up in interest.

"Yes, and yes," Fireheart nodded. "From what I've heard, it's not uncommon to switch. I doubt anyone's done what I'm about to, though."

"The next gathering is going to be something," Sandstorm chuffed.

Fireheart grumbled something under his breath, Cloudpaw couldn't hear, but he felt a little bit of sympathy. So many things have happened recently, he would hate to be the center of it all. Poor Dad.

"Anyway," Fireheart sighed, and stood with an easy stretch. "Let's get back to training? A few more things, and I'll need to be off for a Shadow patrol."

"Okay!" Cloudpaw hopped up. He was eager to get back to it! Training was fun.

Sandstorm shook out her pelt. Her eyes met his.

"Alright. I want you working on pounces.."

Chapter Text

Yellowfang groomed her paws as she and Bluestar waited for their wayward son. He had asked for them to meet, in Yellowfang's den, and she had an inkling as to why, but she would like to know firstpaw.

She was glad for the opportunity to speak with her leader, at least. They were of like minds, and she found Bluestar interesting. The way she thought, her life experiences, it fascinated her.

A rustling at the edge of the den, a soft mew, a flash of red fur.

Fireheart.

Yellowfang chirred her own greeting, and quick as a flash he was there, standing tall (of sorts, he was still so small) before them. She looked at him fondly. He seemed to be in good spirits, despite everything.

"Yellowfang, Bluestar."

"Fireheart."

They exchanged formal nods. Fireheart chuffed quietly to himself. He sat, curling that fluffy tail by his paws, the rest of his fur an unfortunate resemblance to a yarrow bush: messy. 

(The healing burn spanning his flank and haunch still jarred, but he was fine, and Yellowfang was learning to ignore it, to not stare as so many cats were fond of doing.)

"So," Bluestar began, tucking her paws in. "What is it I'm hearing about you retiring from deputy? You want to switch, is that right?"

Yellowfang heard no recrimination in her voice; just simple curiosity, and concern. Fireheart winced anyway.

"I don't know if I want to be medicine cat, specifically, but," he paused. He flipped his tail closer. "I can be backup, talk to Starclan, all that. Not forever."

"Until Yellowfang here finds herself an apprentice, hm?" Bluestar shot her a sly look. "Anyone in mind?"

"We'll see," Yellowfang shrugged easily. "Someone else might want to, or maybe one of the kits. I don't want to force anyone if they don't want it."

"Not the kind of work you do if you hate it," Fireheart nodded.

"Just so," Bluestar mewed. Her eyes then narrowed in thought. "Goosefeather, my uncle, was medicine cat back when I was an apprentice. He loved it, but he always said, make choices you can live with. Whatever you decide, Fireheart, make sure it's something you don't have to just survive."

"Mm." Fireheart dipped his head again. Then, quietly like a confession, "I want to stop being deputy. It- I'm not happy."

Anyone could have told you that, Yellowfang didn't say. It wasn't a kind thought, and wasn't necessarily true, either. Fireheart wasn't the most cheerful cat, yes, but he had his moments just as anyone else did. And nobody could be happy all of the time.

But she understood. Bluestar, too, seemed to get it, if her solemn nod told Yellowfang anything.

"If that's what you want," she mewed. "And I am sorry it hasn't worked out, Fireheart. Did you have somebody in mind to replace you? I'm sure I could find someone, but you're not the kind of cat to not have a backup plan."

Yellowfang watched her smirk, watched Fireheart twitch, obviously caught out, and had to sigh. These cats.

They really were too similar, sometimes.

"I might," Fireheart hedged.

"And?" Yellowfang was curious too.

"Brindleface might have spoken to them. And they might've been her idea. But!" He sat taller, a bright gleam entering his eyes, more life in them than Yellowfang had seen in ages. "I think they're a good choice. Loyal to Us, obviously. Smart, dedicated, and knows how to handle a lot of things at once, and knows how to keep order."

"And have they mentored anyone?" Bluestar asked. Her tail flipped with the question.

"I don't know," Fireheart shrugged mildly. "But if they haven't, Brindleface said she would tell them we would promise one of our kits to them. We discussed it."

"Is that something we could do?" Yellowfang blinked. 

"It's not unheard of," Bluestar mused. Her paws stretched outward, then scrunched inward again. "Usually the warrior would have some other experience that would be more or less equal, and I would train them on how to lead in the meantime."

Yellowfang nodded her understanding. Seemed simple enough to her. But..

"Would the clan accept that?"

"Why would I care," Fireheart asked blandly, at the same moment Bluestar said, "I don't see why they wouldn't," and Yellowfang had to bite back a snort at their narrowing of eyes at each other.

Never change, Fireheart, she thought with a smirk. His candidness was so very refreshing sometimes.

"Try to care a little," Bluestar snarked. Her graying face tried to stay firm, but Yellowfang saw that smile.

"I'll care when they earn it," Fireheart tossed his head, tone snooty. He looked just like Sandstorm, Yellowfang had to hold back yet another laugh. Stars above.

"Mhm," Bluestar snorted, obviously not believing him.

Fireheart just rolled his eyes, and where did that deferential little apprentice go, seriously. Yellowfang remembered thinking she wished he'd speak his mind more, and now look at him. Talking back to his leader, of all cats.

(He had more than earned it, in her opinion.)

"Anyway," Fireheart mewed, expression falling neutral again, "Brindleface should be bringing them by soon, I told her about our meeting. Should have brought some prey, sorry."

He nodded, almost absently, toward the den entrance.

"We ate, don't worry about that," Yellowfang told him. "Cloudpaw brought us food earlier."

"That kit!" Bluestar exclaimed, sitting up with glowing eyes. "Already hunting rabbits, did you know? He might even be on par with you three soon!"

Meaning Whitestorm, Sandstorm, and Fireheart, Thunderclan's best hunters, Yellowfang knew. Pride for her kit bloomed in her chest; he had worked hard for his spot with those two. He would never be one of their strongest fighters, but that was less important in her eyes.

Happiness lit up light green, and Yellowfang knew Fireheart, too, felt that same affection for his kin.

A comfortable silence fell over them; everyone twitched when, once again, someone pawed at the ferns at the front of the den to announce their presence.

"Hello? Bluestar? Yellowfang?" Brindleface's voice called, voice a tad muffled but clear enough.

"In here," the gray leader greeted, and suddenly Yellowfang's den was crowded further by two more cats, and Moon her witness she was surprised.

"Frostfur?"

"That's me," the white warrior demurred, nodding respectfully at her and Bluestar.

Yellowfang looked to Fireheart. He gazed back at her. Brindleface sat beside him, and her similar piercing green bored into her pelt. Frostfur herself chose a spot near Yellowfang, facing Bluestar and politely keeping distance but not too much, and Yellowfang sighed.

These cats.

"Good choice," she allowed with a nod to her kit and his partner. Frostfur snorted quietly.

"Like I told Brindleface," she stated to them all, "I'm not opposed at all. If you'll allow me, I'll do it."

"I didn't think it was a goal of yours," Bluestar admitted. "I would have taught you more!"

"You can teach me now, while we have time," the warrior shrugged. "And it's not like Fireheart is leaving the clan. He would help, I'm sure."

"Can't stay out of other cats' business, more like," Brindleface ribbed, then yelped as Fireheart jabbed her in the ribs.

Yellowfang shook her head, fully exasperated.

"Quit it," Bluestar ordered without looking at them. "You really want to?"

"I really do," Frostfur nodded again, her smile sweetly mischievous. "And a promised apprentice was a good bribe, I won't lie. I miss teaching my kits."

"Well, it's not like you don't have the experience," Yellowfang chuffed.

"That's exactly what I said!" Brindleface mewed. Her excited tail thwapped Fireheart, to his put-on annoyance.

"Well," Bluestar sat up, holding them all in her gaze. "That's settled, then? Fireheart steps down to be part-time medicine cat, and Frostfur is to be my new deputy?"

"Yes ma'am," Fireheart and Frostfur say together. They all ignore Brindleface's quiet laughter.

"Sounds about right," Yellowfang agreed. Then a thought hit her.

"The next gathering is going to be so much."

"Don't remind me," Fireheart bemoaned, flopping into Brindleface dramatically.

"Oh, I can't wait," she mewed perhaps mean-spiritedly.

Yellowfang could relate.