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RippleClan: Moon 39, Part 1

Oilstripe has been waiting eagerly to decide names for her offspring. At Carnationspeckle’s invitation, she crawls into the nursery, purring and joining Carnationspeckle in naming their single kitten.

[Image ID: Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle sit together, watching a newborn cream and white kit. Underneath the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: TROUTKIT, 0, FEMALE, INSECURE. Under Carnationspeckle, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH.]

(Oilstripe: 43, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 41, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Troutkit: 0, female, kit, insecure)

(Author’s note: the following scenes involve allusions to traumatic childbirth. Please read with caution. All will be revealed in time.)

Palekit and Ripplekit have recovered from heat exhaustion.

[Image ID: Palekit and Ripplekit face each other. Under Palekit, it says - CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION, + NEW SKILL: NEVER SITS STILL. Under Ripplekit, it says - CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION.]

(Palekit: 5, female, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder, never sits still)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

Wildclaw’s sprain has healed.

[Image ID: Wildclaw follows Shadowdrop, calling “Shadow, where are we going?” Underneath her, it says - CONDITION: DISLOCATED PAW. Waspkit watches from the back. Underneath him, it says + NEW SKILL: EYE FOR DETAILS.]

---

The past Harvest Moons were exciting times for RippleClan. As they got more and more members, their contribution to the holiday grew bigger and better. This year they got to talk about darkhounds, and Wildclaw had every intention on teaching little apprentices how to protect their friends and family from the dangerous beasts. After all, her paw was all better, and Rattlepelt had a great show planned (even though talking to her still hurt a bit, no matter how much Wildclaw ignored it). The problem was, she didn’t account for one thing; guard duty.

“Mom, you know I like guarding camp,” Wildclaw stammered as Downstar checked the baskets and pots the Clan would bring to Harvest Moon, “but on Harvest Moon?”

“We can’t have everyone at the celebration,” Downstar sighed, not looking at her daughter. “Weedfoot needs to be there as deputy, which means we need more paws in camp watching over our kits and injured. Carnationspeckle is still exhausted from birthing Troutkit, she needs all the support she can have while we’re out.”

“Troutkit?” Wildclaw said. “They finally named the little sprout?”

“They picked a name this morning,” Downstar explained. “Carnationspeckle needs good food to build her strength, and you’re a good cook when you’re not itching to patrol.”

“It’ll be lonely with just us here,” Wildclaw huffed.

“Shadowdrop volunteered to stay behind,” Downstar said, finally facing Wildclaw, “and Parsley will be watching Weedfoot’s litter. It won’t be too bad.” Downstar touched her nose to Wildclaw’s forehead.

Only the tip of the sun glimmered over the ocean’s horizon. All around the mother and daughter duo, the rest of RippleClan prepared to head out for Harvest Moon. Oilstripe helped Fennelspot put on an elaborate tail wrap Rattlepelt made for when Fennelspot needed to flaunt his authority as a cleric. Weedfoot’s kits pestered their parents about what Harvest Moon was like, even though they were old enough to know better. Scrubmask and Clammask shared tongues with Halibutdusk while Rabbitjoy placed a necklace around Rattlepelt’s neck.

“Everyone carry a load!” Downstar called, slipping a basket around her neck. “We have a lot to bring today.” Downstar patted Wildclaw with her tail and joined Rustshade and Mousesong. Soon the whole Clan was on the move, save for Wildclaw, the silent guardian in the heart of camp.

“I’d be better off keeping them safe at the holiday,” she muttered, rubbing a paw into the sand. Parsley strolled past her and slid between Weedfoot’s kits, all of whom stared out at camp at their slowly vanishing Clanmates.

“You five are old enough to entertain yourselves today,” Parsley said with a twitch of her stub. “I’m sure we can have our own Harvest Moon here if you want.”

“I could tell some stories,” Ripplekit suggested.

“Or we could tell our own!” Lavenderkit suggested, wiggling his flank high. “Let’s be artisans and put on our own show!”

“That sounds fun!” Palekit chirped.

“You four go ahead,” Waspkit huffed, lifting his leg. “I’m going to groom myself. I don’t think putting on a show like this is what a real codekeeper would do.”

“We won’t get to play around like this when we’re apprentices,” Puddlekit whined, nudging his golden brother. “Mom said even Grandfather enjoyed being a kit when he was one! And Dad says you’re just like him.”

“You’re the one they named after him, shouldn’t you be like him?” Waspkit huffed. “Carnationspeckle says Puddlespeckle was a mean old tom. I don’t want to be like him.”

“Then don’t act like a codekeeper and act like a kit!” Palekit huffed. She nibbled Waspkit’s ear, and the bossy kit’s stoic expression broke. He laughed and shoved his sister. He joined the rest of his littermates by the Shiprock, chatting about their show.

“That takes care of that,” Parsley yawned, stretching. “I’m going to share tongues with Carnationspeckle for a while. You and your brother enjoy a quiet camp.” Parsley headed for the nursery.

As she left, however, Wildclaw realized she didn’t see Shadowdrop anywhere. Curious, Wildclaw peeked into the dirtplace. No Shadowdrop. She checked the warrior’s den. No Shadowdrop. She even checked the medicine den, but unsurprisingly, Shadowdrop wasn’t inside. Where did her brother go? Did he slip off to Harvest Moon? Lately, it felt like Wildclaw could never find the black codekeeper. Did he expect her to guard camp alone?

In a moment of shockingly coincidental timing, Shadowdrop entered camp. He lingered by the entrance, eyeing the empty camp. When he saw Wildclaw, he flicked his tail for her to join him. He was stiff and inched toward the exit with every moment Wildclaw lingered. Wildclaw glanced around her, like she was still a wild apprentice trying to sneak out of camp. The kits were absorbed in their plans, save for Waspkit, who eyed Shadowdrop as the others chattered on. Wildclaw jogged toward Shadowdrop. She barely got close before he started to lead her out of camp.

“Shadow, where are we going?” Wildclaw whispered, unsure why she chose to whisper. Shadowdrop’s tensed shoulders and stiff movements shut Wildclaw up. Something was happening, something Shadowdrop wanted to wait to discuss. But what?

(Wildclaw: 31, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Downstar: 98, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Parsley: 133, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Lavenderkit: 5, male, kit, noisy, likes to sing)

(Palekit: 5, female, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder, never sit still)

(Waspkit: 5, male, kit, bossy, interested in clan history, eye for detail)

(Puddlekit: 5, male, kit, polite, morbid curiosity, oddly observant)

(Shadowdrop: 31, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

When the Clan returns from Harvest Moon, there are three new kits in camp. Shadowdrop and Wildclaw claim a wild queen gave them up. Shadowdrop has adopted them.

[Image ID: Three black newborn kits sit in moss nests. The kit in the upper left has text under them saying NEW PLAYER: TEMPESTKIT, 0, FEMALE, TROUBLESOME. The kit in the middle says NEW PLAYER: MOSSKIT, 0, MALE, BULLYING. The kit on the right reads NEW PLAYER: TRUMPETKIT, 0, FEMALE, NERVOUS].

---

The deep dark could do nothing to stop the rush of warmth and laughter flowing off the returning RippleClan cats. Clammask was in the thick of it, squished between Rustshade and Downstar as she carried an empty basket home. Everyone’s stories had been excellent. It was a wonderful start to the new season, and there was no Shadowdrop around to glare at Oilstripe.

And now Shadowdrop was back in Clammask’s mind, how wonderful. Why the tom couldn’t let go of a simple crush, Clammask would never understand. If she were leader, she would smack some sense into him. Ever since Carnationspeckle got pregnant, he was barely around, only returning after a long hunt or patrol. Maybe with Troutkit’s birth, Shadowdrop would mellow out. Or maybe he would get worse. Whatever the case, Clammask had her eye on him.

“We’re back!” Downstar called as she led RippleClan into camp. Clammask’s Clanmates pushed past her, yawning and chattering about everything their friends in the other Clans had to say. Parsley sat outside the nursery with Ripplekit, Lavenderkit, and Palekit. Parsley shot up at the Clan’s arrival.

“Mom, Dad!” Lavenderkit called. Lavenderkit raced toward Weedfoot and James, who pushed into camp with Oilstripe and Halibutdusk. “Mom, Dad, Shadowdrop brought kits home!” Clammask’s feet dug into the sand as she turned to face the excited kit.

“What was that?” James scoffed, turning his head as though he didn’t hear his son well. Palekit and Ripplekit joined their brother.

“Shadowdrop and Wildclaw came into camp and they had kits!” Lavenderkit said again.

“They’re cute,” Ripplekit noted as though that was the important part of the story. The whole Clan stared at Lavenderkit, the excited conversation dying down as the strange and sudden statement rippled through them.

“Parsley…” Downstar said as the tortoiseshell elder approached.

“We didn’t want to make a scene at Harvest Moon,” Parsley sighed. “It’ll be better if you hear your son’s story.” Downstar hurried past Parsley and to the nursery. Halibutdusk and Clammask ran after her.

The nursery was dark and cool when Clammask stepped inside. Waspkit and Puddlekit watched the shocking scene silently from their nest. Shadowdrop sat next to Carnationspeckle, head tall as his mother and leader entered. Carnationspeckle slowly pulled herself from sleep, shifting to face the crowd. Carnationspeckle had more kits at her belly than she started the day with. Troutkit was sound asleep, tucked into her mother’s fluff, but three black kits squirmed in Carnationspeckle’s embrace. Clammask knew in an instant they belonged to Shadowdrop.

“What did you do?” Clammask hissed.

“Clammask, he doesn’t have to explain himself,” Halibutdusk reminded her, blocking her path to Shadowdrop. “The code protects him.”

“I don’t have anything to hide, Halibut,” Shadowdrop huffed. Downstar crouched beside the three new kits. All three were blind to the world, but Troutkit seemed to sense the presence of her leader and mewed softly.

“Two mollies and a tom,” Downstar muttered. Shadowdrop stood behind Carnationspeckle and studied the three kits.

“Wildclaw and I went hunting,” Shadowdrop said. “We found a molly nursing these three. She was a kittypet whose humans planned to kill her kits. She had been hiding in the forests outside our territory for a few days nursing them, but had to return to her humans. She asked us to take them in.” Clammask’s gray eyes burned like boiling water. These kits were Shadowdrop’s by blood, they looked just like him and his littermates. There was no way under Silverpelt that these kits did not have RippleClan blood. Clammask was certain of it.

“Did she name them?” Downstar asked softly. Clammask’s glare turned on Downstar. Did she really believe Shadowdrop?”

“She asked us to pick names with her,” Shadowdrop explained. He walked back around Carnationspeckle and touched his nose to each kit as he said “Tempestkit… Mosskit… Trumpetkit.” He turned back to Downstar and said, “I want to raise them, Mom. I’ll be their father.” He already was their father, did no one else see it?

“I have the milk for them, luckily,” Carnationspeckle purred. “They’ve latched on well.”

“Thank you, Carnationspeckle,” Shadowdrop sighed. “I couldn’t do this without your help.” He touched his nose to Carnationspeckle’s forehead. Bile crawled up Clammask’s throat.

“Welcome to RippleClan, little ones,” Downstar purred, voice cracking as she licked each small kit. She then groomed her son’s cheek and Shadowdrop leaned into his mother.

“Where’s Wildclaw?” Clammask finally snapped. “I want to hear her side of this story.”

“You know how deeply she sleeps,” Shadowdrop sighed, rolling his eyes. “She probably isn’t aware you’re back at all.” A good excuse to keep the story straight, Clammask thought.

“Clammask, can you leave us?” Downstar asked, finally noticing someone other than her kin. “Let Fennelspot know we have new members of the Clan to care for.” Clammask nodded slowly and backed out of the den. She knew when her words would go unheeded.

StarClan, what was Shadowdrop doing? Clammask was certain he still liked Carnationspeckle, she could see it in his eyes. So why have kits with someone else? Shouldn’t he be fighting for her attention, like in Rabbitjoy’s stories of the tormented lover in the flames? Why go about it like this?

“Clammask?” Clammask had stopped a few tail-lengths away from the nursery, unable to obey her leader’s request. She turned to find Waspkit standing behind her. He looked more like an apprentice than ever before, searching for answers in Clammask’s eyes.

“What is it?” Clammask asked. Waspkit glanced toward the rest of his family, all focused on Lavenderkit’s retelling of the day’s events.

“When I was younger, and I caught Ripplekit in Downstar’s den,” Waspkit muttered, “I told on her, because Mom said we weren’t allowed in there. My littermates got mad at me and said I was trying to show off to the adults. If I tell you what I saw tonight, will Shadowdrop say I’m messing with something that doesn’t involve me?”

“Waspkit, there is a difference between trying to get someone in trouble and knowing something bad has happened.” Gray eyes tore into gray eyes as Clammask thought through each word. “If you think Shadowdrop has done something that could hurt someone, it’s important to tell someone you trust so we can help fix it.” Waspkit nodded.

“I saw Shadowdrop and Wildclaw leave camp this morning,” Waspkit whispered into Clammask’s ear. “It didn’t look like a hunting patrol. Shadowdrop looked nervous. And, and the kits look really little, like when Troutkit was just born. They smell weird, too. I don’t think Shadowdrop is telling the truth.”

“I don’t either, Waspkit,” Clammask said. “We’ll keep this to ourselves for now, alright? Try and get some sleep. Thank you for trusting me.” She touched noses with Waspkit. The young tom nodded stiffly and scurried back to the nursery.

Clammask had to do something, and she had to do it soon.

(Clammask: 33, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Downstar: 98, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Lavenderkit: 5, male, kit, noisy, likes to sing)

(James: 115, male, caretaker, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Parsley: 133, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Shadowdrop: 31, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 41, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Troutkit: 0, female, kit, insecure)

(Tempestkit: 0, female, kit, troublesome)

(Mosskit: 0, male, kit, bullying)

(Trumpetkit: 0, female, kit, nervous)

(Waspkit: 5, male, kit, bossy, interested in clan history, eye for detail)

Scrubmask, Clammask, and Fennelspot go in search of the mother.

[Image ID: Scrubmask, Clammask, and Fennelspot face Froggy, who says “You’re all too late.”]

---

“Scrubmask, you know he’s lying,” Clammask hissed, crouched beside her friend in a quiet corner of camp. Most of RippleClan had retired for the night or continued ooing and awwing at the three new kits in the nursery. Clammask and Scrubmask were largely ignored, which worked in the younger molly’s favor.

“Do I?” Scrubmask sighed, resting her chin between her paws. “All I see is a tom who decided to do the right thing and raise some kits he found.”

“Kits that look just like him,” Clammask groaned.

“If he lied, we can’t ask him,” Scrubmask reminded Clammask, watching her from the corner of her eye. “You know the code.”

“Yes, yes, but there’s something that might trump the code in this situation,” Clammask huffed. “Someone gave birth to those kits, and whether Shadowdrop is telling the truth or not, that someone is in trouble.”

“How so?” Scrubmask sat up.

“If he’s telling the truth, which I know he isn’t,” Clammask huffed, “there’s a kittypet stuck in an awful situation that she has the opportunity to leave, if we find her. If he’s lying, there is a loner or Clan cat or someone out there who has recently given birth and needs help. Carnationspeckle was exhausted giving birth to a single kit. Do you want to imagine what a lone mother could be going through?”

“We could be bringing trouble on these kits’ heads,” Scrubmask sighed. “Your arrival wasn’t that different from theirs.”

“Don’t remind me,” Clammask grumbled. When she learned who her mother was, she couldn’t help but think, what if she had grown up with Sunstrike? What if she had gotten the chance to have two parents rather than one? Would Twinekit and Locustseeker still be alive?

“We’ll be making a big fuss if we try to find the mother,” Scrubmask said. “Are you sure you want to go through with it?”

“If anyone can find her,” Clammask insisted, “it’s you and your nose. You always bring back prey, finding a strange cat shouldn’t be much different. Besides, I think I can get someone else to help.”

And get someone she did. Fennelspot was rightly distracted by the new kits, but he saw all the details Clammask and Waspkit noticed earlier. It didn’t take much to get him to pack a basket with a few medical essentials and follow Clammask and Scrubmask out of camp.

Perhaps it was the leftover gloom of Harvest Moon’s scary stories. Perhaps it was Clammask’s own nagging worry about the story behind those three black kits. Whatever the case, RippleClan territory loomed around her as she and Scrubmask tried to pick up the hours-old trail of the unknown queen.

“Clammask,” Fennelspot gulped as the night pressed on, “there may not be a good trail left to find. It could be lost in old scents. StarClan knows where Shadowdrop and Wildclaw encountered the kits.”

“We can’t go back yet,” Clammask groaned. “Those kits need their mother.”

“All I’m saying is that we may not find her tonight,” Fennelspot pointed out. “It’s been well over half a day since the kits arrived at camp. It’s late, we’re tired, and Scrubmask still hasn’t found a scent.” Fennelspot motioned toward Scrubmask, who had gone ahead of the pair to better find a scent, but the cream and white molly was gone. “Scrubmask?”

“I found something,” Scrubmask called. Clammask and Fennelspot jogged through the thick tree lines and through the scrub. Scrubmask crouched beside a small nook at the base of a fir. Clammask could smell it now; the thick and heavy scent of birth. Carnationspeckle reeked of it for days after her kitting.

“You scared me for a moment, Scrubmask,” Fennelspot gulped. “I thought a Shadow claimed you! It is still technically Harvest Moon, don’t forget that.”

“I got distracted by the scent,” Scrubmask huffed, sniffing the ground around the tree. “There’s no mistaking this smell.”

“I was right!” Clammask cheered. “The kits are newborn! I knew they weren’t a few days old.”

“Neither of us disagreed,” Scrubmask pointed out. “You may be better off restraining your excitement. This has made things much harder for those kits.” Clammask settled down, clearing the cheer from her throat.

“The scent heads south,” Fennelspot pointed out.

“The queen could be making camp near our territory!” Clammask jogged along the scent’s trail. “Hurry!” Trying to outpace the fastest cats in RippleClan was a fruitless venture, but Scrubmask and Fennelspot matched Clammask’s speed, hurrying alongside her, tasting the air.

Before long, the southern horse path came into view. A distant monster thundered toward WheatClan territory. The soul-shaking shriek of the poor horse trapped by the monster may have been dulled by distance, but it still made Clammask shiver. A figure shifted in the quiet dark on the other side of the horse path. Their fur was so dark, Clammask couldn’t make out their features in the night.

“Hello?” Clammask called. “We’re from RippleClan. Did you just give birth?”

“Clammask, careful,” Scrubmask groaned as the younger molly hurried toward the horse path.

“We have your kits,” Clammask yowled, “We can reunite you! We brought our cleric, he can help you recover!” The figure stepped into better view. However, it was not the face of a tired queen, but rather an oh-so-familiar black kittypet.

“Froggy?” Scrubmask huffed, appearing at Clammask’s side. Froggy crept to the edge of the horse path. His paws were coated in dirt.

“You’re all too late,” Froggy growled. “She’s… she’s gone.” A mound of dirt rose up behind Froggy. The old kittypet stumbled back to the mound and laid on top of it. He turned his back to the group, his cheek pressed into the ground.

“I don’t understand,” Clammask muttered, mindlessly approaching the grave. “The trail… we followed it all the way from our territory. How could she get here if she…”

“Clammask,” Fennelspot whispered. He brushed against her and approached Froggy. He sat beside the kittypet and put his tail over Froggy’s back. “What was her name, Froggy?”

“Cinderella,” Froggy grumbled, turning away from the Clan cats. “Her name was Cinderella.”

“How did you know her?”

“She and her sister were born not far from my home. I’ve known her since she was a kit. I wasn’t going to let her waste away by the roadside.”

“That’s very noble of you.” Fennelspot looped around Froggy so he could meet his eyes. “Did you know Cinderella was expecting? Do you know what happened to her?”

“We think we have her kits,” Clammask huffed. “We think Shadowdrop is the father.”

“Shadowdrop?” Froggy’s head shot up. “He… that… that fox-hearted, manipulative…” Froggy shoved himself to his paws and glared at Clammask, sneering as he said, “He was the sire?”

“What do you know?” Scrubmask asked. She stood close to Clammask as Froggy’s fury smoked and sparked before them.

“She wanted to learn Clan skills,” Froggy growled, tail thrashing. “She knows you Clan cats can start fires and cure disease, she wanted to do those things too. She told me a Clan tom said if she had his kits, he would teach her anything she wanted to know. I only found out a few days ago. She wasn’t herself when her labor started. She ran off. Her sister asked me to find her, and when I did… I don’t know what went wrong, but Cinderella was in pain. She was trying to get home, and she only got so far…” Clammask’s fur burned with the same anger flowing through Froggy.

“Tell us everything you know,” Clammask growled. “If Shadowdrop and Wildclaw left your friend to die, I’ll make sure they’re punished.”

(Clammask: 33, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Scrubmask: 56, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Fennelspot: 96, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Froggy: 108, male, kittypet, rebellious, maintains the territory, great speaker)

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emtheanxiousdragon · 1 day

Video

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emtheanxiousdragon · 1 day

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“average person eats 3 spiders a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

#spiders georg

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emtheanxiousdragon · 4 days

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OBSESSED with this new su signing poster. pearl holding greg just because. slightly older steven with attempts at growing out facial hair. the little pebble in the corner. garnet criss-crossed on greg’s van. lapis’ pants riding down so low you can see her hip. bismuth with that muscle definition. connie’s preppy outfit. peridot’s blank glasses.

#steven universe

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emtheanxiousdragon · 4 days

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@novantinuum

Hey there, I'm really sorry to do this, but I saw your video and I couldn't help myself.

Link to the original here.

#steven universe

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emtheanxiousdragon · 4 days

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I never thought I'd say this but here it is!!

The long lost Gravity Falls "Next Time On," reel has FINALLY been found!

This right here is what made this show happen and the reason why every new Disney cartoon also has a next time on reel. GF's last big lost media hunt is over!

Alex Hirsch said that he was okay if this ever was to leak. So, if this goes down, blame Disney!!

#gravity falls #alex hirsch #gravity falls fandom #gravity falls pilot #gravity falls next time on #next time on #next time on gravity falls #pilot

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emtheanxiousdragon · 6 days

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The last batch!

Puddlekit, Rabbitjoy, Rattlepelt, Ripplekit, Rustshade, Scrubmask, Shadowdrop, Waspkit, Weedfoot, Wildclaw

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emtheanxiousdragon · 7 days

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Picrew cats of RippleClan, living and dead!

In order: Applepelt, Burdockcreek, Carnationspeckle, Clammask, Downstar, Duskkit, Fennelspot, Halibutdusk, James.

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emtheanxiousdragon · 9 days

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what if warriors had on-page illustrations?

excerpts taken from skyclan's destiny, squirrelflight's hope, crookedstar's promise, and moth flight's vision

#warrior cats

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emtheanxiousdragon · 11 days

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Headline News - Local Blank Flank ex-ranger discovers amazing talent in time to rescue his therapists from timber wolves

#warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats au #my little pony #my little pony au #mlp x warriors

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emtheanxiousdragon · 11 days

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RippleClan: Moon 38

Oilstripe purrs for a long time at one of Carnationspeckle’s lame jokes.

[Image ID: Oilstripe sits with Carnationspeckle while Shadowdrop watches in the background.]

Even though Carnationspeckle was confident that she would have a small litter, she was as exhausted as a queen with eight kits squirming inside her. As such, Oilstripe went to her in the nursery rather than have her tired mate trudge across camp for a chat. Taking a sunhigh nap in the nursery with five rambunctious kits was rather hard, but Oilstripe made do.

Oilstripe couldn’t stop purring as she left the nursery come afternoon. Carnationspeckle had a funny habit of muttering in her sleep, and by the stars, the things she muttered… how could Oilstripe not purr? Maybe Oilstripe could join the next hunting patrol to the coast and catch some fish, a special treat in exchange for the warmth Carnationspeckle unknowingly gave her.

To Oilstripe’s surprise, Puddlespeckle was in camp. He sat on the Shiprock, staring at Shadowdrop while he groomed himself. The flowers tucked into his fur did little to upset the chill in his eyes. Oilstripe stopped purring. She’d never seen a StarClan spirit look so… angry.

A border patrol passed in front of Oilstripe, blocking her line of sight. When her Clanmates got out of the way, Puddlespeckle was gone. Shadowdrop, however, was looking right at her. Oilstripe’s fur prickled.

“Is something wrong?” she called. She slowly approached Shadowdrop. The black tom’s eyes never deviated from her.

“Is Carnationspeckle feeling well?” Shadowdrop asked.

“She’s rather tired, but she’s happy,” Oilstripe assured him, taking a seat. “Downstar, Parsley, and Weedfoot keep her company when I’m out. I can’t wait to say hello to my kits.”

“They aren’t really your kits, though,” Shadowdrop muttered. Oilstripe stiffened. Shadowdrop’s green eyes burrowed under her pelt. “They have a sire lounging about in a human den somewhere in the north. They’ll grow up without a father.”

“They don’t need a father, they have me,” Oilstripe huffed. “Why would you say something like that? You grew up without a father, or did you forget?”

“It’s better to have no father at all than a second parent who's more focused on the dead than the living,” Shadowdrop growled, getting to his paws. Oilstripe’s shock shifted into fury. She sneered and stood, meeting Shadowdrop eye to eye.

“What do you have against me?” Oilstripe snapped, lips curling. “I thought we were friends. Our parents are mates now, we shouldn’t fight like this.”

“Carnationspeckle needs someone who can focus on her,” Shadowdrop growled. “I don’t think you can be that cat.” Shadowdrop stepped closer.

“Are you threatening me?” Oilstripe gasped, steadying herself, refusing to move back. “What are you doing? Where is this coming from?”

“Oilstripe, are you alright?” Carnationspeckle peered out of the nursery. Her big blue eyes bounced between Oilstripe and Shadowdrop. The cats of RippleClan watched the pair, trying to decide if they should intervene. Shadowdrop squirmed under Carnationspeckle’s eyes.

“Treat her well,” Shadowdrop spat. He stormed into the warrior’s den. RippleClan moved around him like water moved around a swimming fish. Oilstripe slowly backed toward the nursery. The ginger molly got the distinct feeling that she was a hunter who just stole salmon from a bear.

(Carnationspeckle: 40, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Oilstripe: 42, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Puddlespeckle: 156, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Shadowdrop: 30, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

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emtheanxiousdragon · 13 days

Text

RippleClan: Moon 37

Oilstripe was seen in a very serious conversation with a kittypet, who ran away when another patrol arrived.

[Image ID: Rattlepelt, Wildclaw, and Weedfoot approach Oilstripe, who is speaking to Froggy. Under Weedfoot, it says - CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH.]

“Thank you for coming with me,” Rattlepelt sighed as Wildclaw and Weedfoot walked behind her with baskets. “Last night’s storm is sure to have produced some good clay.”

“Now that I’m not exhausted,” Weedfoot said, adjusting her basket, “this seems like a good way to stretch my legs.”

“I’m just here to keep you safe,” Wildclaw huffed, matching pace with Rattlepelt. “We don’t want any rogues attacking you.”

“They would be fools to attack a fox risen from the dead, wouldn’t you think?” Rattlepelt laughed. Her fox pelt covering included the fur of the dead beast’s head, which covered Rattlepelt’s sun sensitive head. With the way the leather pelt hid her from the burning sun, a stranger in the distance would likely think she was a very, very sick looking fox.

While clay deposits were not as fruitful as they were in SlugClan, the Great Northern River still offered its fair share of clay for RippleClan’s use. The gentle water would cool Rattlepelt as she dug up the needed clay. It would be better than roasting in camp on that particularly hot day.

It seemed Oilstripe had a similar idea! As Rattlepelt’s patrol approached the river, the young molly spotted her mother’s new mate sitting on one of the half submerged rocks in the middle of the river. A fluffy black kittypet sat on the other side of the river, talking to Oilstripe. A newcomer to RippleClan, perhaps?

“I recognize that kittypet!” Wildclaw gasped. “That’s Froggy!”

“Your sire?” Rattlepelt asked as Wildclaw dropped her basket. Rattlepelt had heard of the wandering kittypet a few times; Carnationspeckle frequently bumped into him near AshClan.

“Let’s see if he needs something,” Weedfoot said, setting her basket aside and taking the lead. As the group got closer, however, Froggy’s fur fluffed up. He nodded to Oilstripe with a soft meow and trotted away from the river.

“Come back!” Wildclaw yowled, but her father vanished into the shrub. She growled and clawed the wet earth of the river’s shore.

“I think Rattlepelt’s leather scared him,” Oilstripe admitted with an awkward chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” Rattlepelt said as her ears burned.

“We were finished anyway,” Oilstripe sighed. She hopped back to dry ground and groomed her wet paws.

“Is Froggy doing well?” Weedfoot asked with one ear cocked in Froggy’s direction.

“His humans are still hunting, and he still joins them,” Oilstripe explained. “I’m glad I found him, though.”

“What do you need a kittypet for?” Wildclaw asked, squinting at Oilstripe.

“I suppose I can tell you,” Oilstripe gulped. She kept her gaze on the ground. “Carnationspeckle and I have talked, and… we would like to be parents.”

“That’s wonderful!” Rattlepelt gasped. She shoved her face into Oilstripe’s fluff. The face of her fox pelt smacked into Oilstripe’s muzzle. The ginger molly laughed and shoved it aside to groom Rattlepelt’s head.

“You must be looking for a sire, then,” Weedfoot purred.

“I asked Froggy if he knew any ginger toms who would be willing,” Oilstripe explained. “Carnationspeckle and I don’t want a sire with Clan connections. We want to be the parents of our children, not share that with someone else.”

“Why a ginger tom?” Rattlepelt asked as she rubbed against Oilstripe.

“Carnationspeckle’s planning to carry the kits, isn’t she?” Wildclaw realized. “You want the kits to look like you.”

“Can you blame me?” Oilstripe laughed.

“I suppose we can’t,” Weedfoot purred. She touched noses with her former apprentice, tail twitching high overhead.

(Rattlepelt: 20, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

(Weedfoot: 86, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Wildclaw: 29, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Froggy: 106, male, kittypet, rebellious, maintains the territory, great speaker)

(Oilstripe: 41, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

Carnationspeckle announces she is expecting kits. She doesn’t believe she can effectively perform her duties while expecting kits and moves into the nursery.

[Image ID: Fennelspot speaks to Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe. Oilstripe yowls, “It worked? It really worked!”. Under Carnationspeckle, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT.]

---

“It worked? It really worked!”

The yowl snapped Shadowdrop out of his conversation. He had been sharing a meal with his littermates in the shadow of the shipwreck, tearing apart a large kelp wrap to get to the meat inside. Halibutdusk paused, about to take another bite.

“Was that Oilstripe?” Wildclaw asked, cocking her head. Shadowdrop nodded. He recognized the historian’s voice. The yowl came from the medicine den. It caught the attention of the other cats lounging around camp, enjoying a meal before sunhigh.

“What do you suppose she’s talking about?” Halibutdusk asked his littermates. Realization sparked in Wildclaw’s eyes.

“Oh!” Wildclaw gasped. “That was quick.”

“What is it?” Shadowdrop asked. As he spoke, Carnationspeckle, Oilstripe, and Fennelspot left the medicine den. Shadowdrop’s heart twinged as Carnationspeckle wove her tail with Oilstripe’s. Something twisted in Shadowdrop’s chest at the sight, and yet, he couldn’t look away.

“Downstar!” Carnationspeckle called into the leader’s den, paws dancing. “Downstar, are you still in there?”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Downstar huffed, trotting outside. She spotted Oilstripe in the back. The ginger molly’s sunny disposition quivered under her leader’s gaze.

“Downstar, do you remember what I told you before the last Gathering?” Carnationspeckle purred, stepping in between her mate and former mentor. The twinge in Shadowdrop’s chest gripped him like fangs on his scruff as Carnationspeckle brushed her tail against her belly. “We picked a good sire. We just spoke with Fennelspot. He confirmed how I’ve been feeling. I’m going to have kits!”

RippleClan flowed around Shadowdrop, moving toward the ocean that was Carnationspeckle’s unending joy, but Shadowdrop was a rock whose peak stuck out of the water. He couldn’t move with the current’s flow, even if he wanted to. Downstar touched noses with Carnationspeckle. Wildclaw slipped between them with a crude joke. Halibutdusk spoke to Oilstripe, congratulating her. He shouldn’t have been congratulating her! She shouldn’t be the second mother of Carnationspeckle’s kits! It shouldn’t have been her!

The rock pushed back against the river’s flow.

Shadowdrop slipped out of camp without a single glance his way. He should have said something to Carnationspeckle sooner. He should have made his intentions clear. Carnationspeckle should be preparing to nurse his kits! He could have been a great father! He could have had a family who chose him over all others, rather than hiding in their dens or chasing foxes or staring at the clouds.

Maybe he still could.

(Oilstripe: 41, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Shadowdrop: 29, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

(Halibutdusk: 29, male, warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Wildclaw: 29, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Carnationspeckle: 39, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Downstar: 96, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

Burdockcreek’s mangled tail has healed, but the injury left him scarred. He bats his injured tail for a while, entertaining himself.

[Image ID: Burdockcreek’s tail is lined in scars. Under Burdockcreek, it says - CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL.]

(Burdockcreek: 31, male, historian, competitive, lore keeper)

Wildclaw confessed her feelings to Rattlepelt but got rejected. She immediately slipped on some rocks and dislocated her paw.

[Image ID: Wildclaw walks away from Rattlepelt. Under Wildclaw, it says + CONDITION: DISLOCATED PAW.]

---

Shadowdrop may have been unlucky in love (and grumpy, and gloomy, and strangely absent as of late) but Wildclaw would not repeat her brother’s mistakes. If she had feelings for someone, she would act on them before anyone else could. And by the stars, she had feelings.

And she had the perfect opportunity, too; Rattlepelt had a meeting planned with LynxClan and SlugClan artisans to share the latest knowledge and tricks of leather-making, and she would need an escort. Sure, technically escorting artisans like that was a warrior’s job, and Downstar initially asked Scrubmask to join the young artisan, but a bit of confidence (and a lot of begging) let Wildclaw take the lead.

Sitting through the meeting was a bit like when the fox bit into Wildclaw’s tail moons ago. Rattlepelt had no time for her caretaker escort, and instead showed a new apprentice how to properly prepare leather for future crafts. The other escorts wandered around the Gathering grounds and had decent conversation, but Wildclaw wasn’t there for small talk. She was there to secure her future, even though it meant sitting through a storm and getting soaked through her skin.

Sunset was half over by the time Wildclaw and Rattlepelt finally started for home. Rattlepelt’s fox pelt burned in the dusk light peeking through the thinning clouds, a gift from Wildclaw to the molly of her affections. Wildclaw steadied herself and cleared her throat. Rattlepelt watched Wildclaw from the corner of her eye.

“Rattlepelt,” Wildclaw began, dragging her paws along the wet grass, “there’s something I’m hoping to try with you.”

“What would that be?” Rattlepelt asked. The fox head slipped off her slick gray skin, revealing her pointy white ear.

“It doesn’t have to be anything serious,” Wildclaw said. She picked up speed as her usual confidence surged back into her voice. “I was thinking that we could start seeing each other romantically. We don’t have to call each other mates yet, I know that may be too sudden, but if you want to—”

“But I don’t want to,” Rattlepelt gulped.

“You don’t?” Wildclaw snapped, spinning to face Rattlepelt. However, as she turned around, she stepped on a slick rock at an awkward angle. Her paw flew out from under her. She fell on her shoulder. Her head smacked into the mud. When Wildclaw scrambled up and stood on her offending paw, pain shot through her leg and forced her back down.

“Oh, oh, are you alright?” Rattlepelt yelped, hurrying to Wildclaw’s side.

“My paw hurts,” Wildclaw growled. She swore she could see her paw swell already. She slipped on a rock? Really? She wasn’t an elder, for StarClan’s sake!

“Lean on me,” Rattlepelt said, nudging Wildclaw up. Ears burning, Wildclaw pressed into Rattlepelt and held her injured paw close. She couldn’t stand to look at Rattlepelt. “We’ll take the walk home slow. Fennelspot can take care of you then.”

Wildclaw limped forward, but almost fell again. Rattlepelt slipped under her and caught her, almost losing her fox pelt in the process. Rattlepelt’s gentle, bony weight against Wildclaw’s chest was too much. She fell on her flank and forced her question out.

“Why don’t you want to see me?” Wildclaw huffed. Rattlepelt shifted awkwardly. The front of her fox pelt fell off and dangled at her side.

“I don’t want to be in a relationship right now,” Rattlepelt explained. “I’m hoping to mentor one of Weedfoot’s kits, and I need to help my mother with her pregnancy. I don’t get to be much of a sister to Mousesong, so I want to be a good sister to the new litter.”

Oh. Of course that was it. For someone who thought she was so smart, Wildclaw could be rather mouse-brained at times. Why should she put her own feelings over the needs of her other Clanmates? Rattlepelt had important things to do, others to care for. Wildclaw would be a distraction. That wasn’t her place in the Clan.

“That’s understandable,” Wildclaw chuckled, her shoulders tense as she cradled her injured paw and wounded pride. “I didn’t mean to make a fuss back there.”

“Anyone can slip,” Rattlepelt assured her. “Let’s get back to camp.” Rattlepelt fixed her fox pelt and joined Wildclaw’s side. Wildclaw tested her paw, but it hurt to stand on it. So she leaned on Rattlepelt as they made their way back to RippleClan territory, just the same as they were when they left.

(Wildclaw: 29, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Rattlepelt: 20, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

Palekit’s snake bite has healed! But both she and Ripplekit got heat exhaustion.

[Image ID: Palekit and Ripplekit sit on screen. Under Palekit, it says - CONDITION: SNAKE BITE, + CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION. Under Ripplekit, it says + CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION.]

(Palekit: 3, female, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder)

(Ripplekit: 3, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)

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emtheanxiousdragon · 19 days

Text

THE ENDGAME IS FULFILLED

RippleClan: Moon 36

Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle have become mates.

[Image ID: Oilstripe says to Carnationspeckle, “You’re already a hero, Carnation.” Under Oilstripe, it says + MATE: CARNATIONSPECKLE. Under Carnationspeckle, it says + MATE: OILSTRIPE. Rustshade, Rattlepelt, and Applepelt watch from afar.]

Oilstripe watched Downstar and Rustshade quietly share tongues below the Shiprock as she steadied her nerves. Would Downstar be annoyed if Oilstripe interrupted? She knew Downstar spent the most time with Rustshade when her mood was low (Duskkit kept her up one night complaining about it), was now a good time? It had to be. Oilstripe couldn’t wait much longer.

“Dad?” Oilstripe said, approaching the two founders. “Do you have a minute to talk with me?” Rustshade paused with his tongue on Downstar’s ear.

“What about?” Rustshade asked. Oilstripe hesitated as Downstar’s sharp amber eyes studied her ginger pelt.

“I can explain in private,” Oilstripe finally said. Rustshade brushed his tail against Downstar and got up. Downstar silently slunk back to her den. Duskkit’s spirit peeked out from the nursery and ran into the leader’s den. Rustshade followed Oilstripe’s gaze but could not see the star speckled kit.

Oilstripe led Rustshade around the Shiprock and said “I’m taking Carnationspeckle out hunting, and I need you to do me a favor. Can you find Rattlepelt a few minutes after we leave and follow us?”

“Why would I do that?” Rustshade huffed.

“I’d feel bad if she didn’t get to see this,” Oilstripe admitted. “Carnation told me the reason she always asks for both of us to help her with her tasks is because she wants us to be mates. She should get to see Carnation’s reaction.” It took a moment for Rustshade’s mind to catch up with Oilstripe’s implication.

“You want to make your relationship official?” Rustshade hummed.

“I think it’s time,” Oilstripe said with a stiff nod.

“Stars right, it's about time!” Applepelt’s shimmering spirit cheered from the top of Shiprock. Oilstripe flinched as Applepelt chanted, “My friends are becoming mates! My friends are becoming mates!”

“More ghostly advice?” Rustshade asked, glancing in Applepelt’s direction. “If StarClan is excited for you, then I’m happy for you. I’ll bring Rattlepelt. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes, Dad,” Oilstripe said as the object of Oilstripe’s affections shifted in the corner of her eye. Carnationspeckle played with the kits outside the nursery, giving James a break (the ginger tom looked like he’d been tossed through a thunderstorm and dried with a bolt of lightning).

Palekit snuggled with James while Puddlekit and Waspkit tried to drag Carnationspeckle down.

“If you’re sure, you’re sure,” Rustshade hummed, spotting Carnationspeckle. “Good luck, Oilstripe.” Oilstripe shook the sand out of her pelt and marched up to the nursery. She only got part way to Carnationspeckle before tiny fangs dug into her ankle. Oilstripe yelped and stumbled forward. Ripplekit giggled underneath her, batting the long strands of fur that dangled from Oilstripe’s belly.

“She’s going to be good in a fight!” Carnationspeckle giggled.

“Are you too busy?” Oilstripe asked, trying to get Ripplekit out from under her. The quick kit kept darting back under her belly.

“It’s as though they feed on each other!” Carnationspeckle laughed as Lavenderkit appeared behind her and grabbed onto her tail. “They just keep going!”

“Sleep is for kits!” Lavenderkit yowled, jaw tight around Carnationspeckle’s tail.

“But we are kits,” Puddlekit pointed out, slipping off Carnationspeckle’s head.

“I can wait until you’re finished,” Oilstripe promised as the greedy little kit in her head screamed at the injustice of it all.

“I can watch the kits.” Downstar left her den, Duskkit hovering behind her. Downstar grabbed Waspkit by the scruff and lifted him off Carnationspeckle.

“Really?” Carnationspeckle said with wide eyes.

“I could use some time with the next generation,” Downstar chuckled. Duskkit trotted past Oilstripe with her tail held high. Oilstripe playfully flicked a paw at Duskkit while all eyes were on Downstar. Duskkit laughed and charged out of camp, vanishing with a twinkle.

“Downstar, Downstar!” Ripplekit cheered, pouncing on the tortoiseshell leader as she took Carnationspeckle’s spot outside the nursery. “Do you want to hear what Scrubmask taught me?”

“Please share,” Downstar purred. All five of Weedfoot’s kits swarmed Downstar while Carnationspeckle crept up to Oilstripe.

“Since you’re free now,” Oilstripe chuckled, licking her bitten ankle, “can we go hunting together? I found a patch of trees where the squirrels love to play.”

“Oh, alright,” Carnationspeckle purred, “but may I suggest we head to the ocean? I’d love to show you some of the diving techniques I’ve been practicing. I’m hoping to teach the kits what I can do once they’re apprenticed!”

“I don’t think I want to get wet right now,” Oilstripe admitted as Applepelt stuck their face between the pair. Their ethereal eyes sparkled as they bounced between Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle. Oilstripe tried to pretend she didn’t see her old friend and instead led Carnationspeckle toward the camp exit. As she did, however, she could see Rustshade speaking with Rattlepelt beside her tanning rack. Oilstripe forced back a purr.

It wouldn’t be long before sunhigh hit, but the dappled shade of the conifers kept Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle cool. The smell of prey blanketed the mossy floor, although large human tracks left deep prints in the warm dirt. Applepelt appeared and disappeared from between the tree, battering Oilstripe with wild rambles. Oilstripe could barely keep an eye on the prey with all of Applepelt’s cheering.

“I had a feeling you would get together,” Applepelt purred as Oilstripe stalked a pair of playful squirrels. “I don’t simply mean as long as I’ve been dead, either. I joined the Clan and saw you two together and knew you would be a wonderful pairing! Then again, I imagined I would be there to celebrate. I suppose in a way I am here, though. You’re simply the only one who can hear me celebrate!” Oilstripe pounced on one of the happy squirrels. Its partner scurried away as the unfortunate critter stopped squirming.

“I hereby bless this catch!” Applepelt laughed as Carnationspeckle trotted up.

“Applepelt, please, I can’t hear my own thoughts right now,” Oilstripe finally snapped, dropping her squirrel. “If you’re going to be here, can you watch from the side, quietly?”

“Applepelt’s here?” Carnationspeckle gasped. “Hello, Applepelt! I’ve missed you. I hope StarClan is treating you well.” Carnationspeckle guessed where Applepelt stood, but looked about a tail-length off from where the dead cat actually was.

“It is, thank you Carnationspeckle,” Applepelt purred, bowing slightly to her old friend.

“Stars, I’m sorry,” Oilstripe groaned. “It must be weird to hear me talking to the dead like this. I try not to when others are around.”

“I think it’s amazing that you can speak to StarClan as easily as you speak to me,” Carnationspeckle sighed. Applepelt’s face grew still and oddly serene as she stepped back. Copper and heather eyes glinted from the other side of the brush behind Carnationspeckle. “What do they talk to you about?”

“Well, typically they visit to check on those they’ve left behind,” Oilstripe explained, whiskers twitching. She licked drops of squirrel blood off her muzzle. “When I see them and I’m alone, I like to ask them about their lives. It’s not the sort of prophetic, supernatural knowledge they have to be careful with, so they’re happy to share their stories with me.”

“That must be wonderful, knowing what StarClan does in the territories like that,” Carnationspeckle hummed. She shifted awkwardly, glancing at where she thought Applepelt stood, and asked, “Do they talk about me at all? Do they watch over me?”

“As much as anyone else, I suppose,” Oilstripe admitted. She left her squirrel on the sun dappled grass and sat closer to Carnationspeckle.

“Do your ancestors visit you?” Carnationspeckle asked. “Rustshade’s parents, your littermates, Sunstrike?” Oilstripe rubbed a paw deeper into the grass.

“I haven’t seen Sunstrike at all,” Oilstripe muttered. “I don’t know where she is. Locustseeker and Twinekit don’t like to talk about her. I think she’s ignoring me.”

“Sometimes I feel the same way about StarClan as a whole,” Carnationspeckle sighed. Her fur drooped with her whiskers as she stared downwards. “I’ve been in RippleClan since the beginning, but I haven’t done anything amazing like you or Downstar or anyone else. I’ve just minded the camp. StarClan would rather put their efforts towards the heroes than the campbodies, I imagine.”

Oilstripe pressed her nose into the soft fluff of Carnationspeckle’s neck. The brown molly gasped softly as Oilstripe gently groomed her fur.

“You’re already a hero, Carnation,” Oilstripe assured her. “You don’t need to speak to ghosts or come back to life to be one. I’ve never met a kinder molly, or anyone I would rather share my life or nest with. That’s enough for me.” Carnationspeckle met Oilstripe’s eyes. She didn’t breathe.

“You want to be mates?” Carnationspeckle whispered.

“I already feel like your mate,” Oilstripe laughed, tucking her tail over Carnationspeckle’s, “so could we make it official? I want to put you first the way you put everyone else first.” Carnationspeckle nodded furiously as a soft whine built inside her.

“I would really like that,” Carnationspeckle cried. She pressed into Oilstripe as hard as she could. Oilstripe pressed back, wrapping around her new mate. Applepelt stood to the side, beaming like the brightest star in Silverpelt.

“Have fun, you two,” she chuckled. Oilstripe blinked, and all that remained of Applepelt was a shimmer of stardust dangling in the warm, still air.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Oilstripe laughed into Carnationspeckle’s ear, “but I had my father bring a witness. Come out, Rattlepelt.”

Carnationspeckle gasped and pulled away as Rattlepelt and Rustshade stepped out of the brush. Rattlepelt wore the fox pelt covering she and Rabbitjoy had collected from Wildclaw’s unfortunate victim moons ago, but it nearly fell off as Rattlepelt ran to Carnationspeckle.

“You’re going to be so happy together,” Rattlepelt purred, rubbing against Carnationspeckle. Carnationspeckle laughed through her joyful cries and groomed Rattlepelt’s face. Oilstripe joined in, sharing tongues with both of her new family members. Their deep purrs scared away any ghostly worries that swam through Oilstripe’s mind.

(Oilstripe: 40, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Rustshade: 80, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Downstar: 95, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Duskkit: 4, female, kit, troublesome, quick witted)

(Applepelt: 31, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Carnationspeckle: 38, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(James: 112, male, caretaker, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Palekit: 2, male, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder)

(Waspkit: 2, male, kit, bossy, interested in clan history)

(Puddlekit: 2, male, kit, polite, morbid curiosity, oddly observant)

(Ripplekit: 2, male, kit, know-it-all, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Lavenderkit: 2, male, kit, noisy, likes to sing)

(Rattlepelt: 19, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

Shadowdrop is happy to find his body finally pain free. Yet he watches Carnationspeckle’s celebration from afar, thinking of what could have been. Weedfoot tries to comfort him to no avail.

[Image ID: Weedfoot faces Shadowdrop, who watches a crowd surrounding Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle in the back. Under Shadowdrop, it says - CONDITION: BROKEN BONE. Under Weedfoot, it says - CONDITION: BLOOD LOSS.]

(Shadowdrop: 28, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

(Weedfoot: 85, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

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