Squirrelpaw’s Secret
“Squirrelpaw, where are you going?”
Sandstorm’s head jerked up as she heard the exasperated call of Dustpelt. Squirrelpaw was always getting into trouble, and Firestar figured a firm cat like Dustpelt would be able to handle the boisterous young cat. However, in the short moon that he’d been mentoring Squirrelpaw, he’d become increasingly frustrated with the younger cat’s inability to focus. Sandstorm barely caught a glimpse of her son before his ginger pelt disappeared into the brush.
“Squirrelpaw!”
Dustpelt was about to go after his apprentice, but Sandstorm leapt to her paws and halted him. Dustpelt stumbled back.
“He’s giving you trouble again?” Sandstorm sighed.
“As per usual,” her old friend grumbled. “I’m doing my best, Sandstorm, but it never seems to be enough with him. He won’t listen to me. Maybe Firestar should give him a different mentor.”
Sandstorm had considered this before, though something told her that Dustpelt wasn’t the problem here. In spite of the rocky relationship Dustpelt and Firestar shared, the tabby tom had never been cruel to Firestar’s kits. In fact, Dustpelt had seemed excited to mentor Squirrelpaw. Squirrelpaw had no reason to be so uncompromising with his mentor.
“I’ll go speak with Squirrelpaw,” Sandstorm stated. “He has to listen to his mother.”
“Good luck,” Dustpelt scoffed.
The tom turned around, and headed straight for the nursery. He took every opportunity he could to visit Ferncloud and their newborn kits. Sandstorm turned the other way and ventured into the forest. She raised her muzzle and sniffed the air for her son’s scent.
“Squirrelpaw?” She called as she patrolled the woods.
Finally, Sandstorm caught sight of Squirrelpaw’s striking ginger pelt. He was hunched over a puddle, his thick tail coiled tightly around his paws. Sandstorm stepped gingerly over to him.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. Don’t you know to come to your mother when she calls you?” Sandstorm scolded.
“Sorry,” mumbled the younger cat.
“Don’t apologize to me,” snapped Sandstorm. “Apologize to Dustpelt. He’s been trying everything to train you, and you won’t even let him help you!”
Squirrelpaw shut his eyes tightly. Sandstorm sighed. She could tell he was distraught, and decided that reprimanding him wasn’t going to help him right now.
“Squirrelpaw, this isn’t like you. You were such a happy kit. A pawful, sure, but you were always sweet. Now all you do is pick fights — Brambleclaw, Dustpelt, Spiderpaw — the list goes on. What happened?”
Squirrelpaw turned to face his mother, his green eyes wide and glassy.
“Mom, do you think Starclan makes mistakes?”
Sandstorm flicked her ear, taken aback by the question. “What?”
“Dustpelt says they don’t,” Squirrelpaw went on. “Leafpaw says so, too.”
Sandstorm considered for a moment. She’d been raised to believe Starclan always had the clans best interest at heart, that everything they did was for a reason. But there were certainly times when she’d failed to understand their reasoning.
“I don’t know,” Sandstorm finally replied. “I’m no medicine cat.”
Squirrelpaw turned back to the puddle, gazing intently down at it. He wrinkled his nose and flicked his paw into their water, sending ripples through it and distorting his reflection.
“Why do you ask?” Sandstorm pressed.
“Maybe some toms,” Squirrelpaw’s voice became strained. “Aren’t meant to be toms.”
Sandstorm blinked. “Squirrelpaw?”
“I don’t want to be a warrior if I’m going to be a tom,” Squirrelpaw explained softly. “It isn’t right.”
“Oh,” Sandstorm mewed. “Then...?”
“I’m a she-cat,” Squirrelpaw declared.
“Is that what this is all about?” Sandstorm shook her head. “Squirrelpaw, you could have told me before.”
“I thought you’d think I was crazy,” Squirrelpaw mumbled, flicking a pebbles across the forest floor. “I overheard some Riverclan apprentices at the last gathering talking about cats like me. They say I’m defying Starclan’s will.”
“Since when do you listen to the likes of a bunch of fishbrained Riverclan cats?” Sandstorm swatted Squirrelpaw’s ear playfully, but received little response. “They’re wrong.”
“How do you know?” Squirrelpaw asked, looking up at her mother with a tired face.
Sandstorm hated seeing her daughter like this. She hated that she hadn’t realized what was going on earlier so that she could have been supporting Squirrelpaw. Sandstorm wrapped her tail around her kit and licked her ear affectionately.
“Do you remember the nursery tales I used to tell you and Leafpaw about my father, Redtail?” Sandstorm asked.
Squirrelpaw nodded.
“He was like you, too. He was born a molly, but he realized that wasn’t who he really was. So he told Bluestar that he was a tom — that he always had been — and you know what she did?”
“What?”
“She thanked him for telling her, and eventually, made him her deputy. He served with Bluestar for many moons, and was one of Thunderclan’s wisest and bravest warriors. Do you think Starclan would have given him the strength he had if they didn’t approve of him?”
“I guess not,” Squirrelpaw conceded.
“Even so,” Sandstorm continued. “Starclan doesn’t control you, Squirrelpaw. They may guide you, but you’re the only one who can say who you are. And if I know my daughter, I know she’s never been one to listen to anyone but herself.”
Squirrelpaw chuckled quietly.
“When you’re ready, we’ll tell your father and the rest of the clan. Okay?”
“Okay,” Squirrelpaw agreed.
They were silent for a moment before Squirrelpaw buried her muzzle into her mother’s chest.
“Thank you, momma,” Squirrelpaw mewed.
Sandstorm pressed her nose to her daughter’s head lovingly. “I’m proud of you.”
They sat nestled together in silence for a moment, then Sandstorm piped up.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook, though. You are going to have a long talk with your father and I about your behavior and you are going to apologize to Dustpelt.”
“Okay,” Squirrelpaw nodded against her mother’s chest.
Sandstorm was surprised by her daughter’s oddly agreeable attitude, but she certainly didn’t mind it.
“Are you ready to go back to camp?” prodded Sandstorm gently. “I’ll let you pick something from the fresh kill pile and tell Dustpelt you’ll be ready to train again tomorrow.”
“Can we stay here a little longer?” Squirrelpaw asked.
“Okay.”
Sandstorm licked her daughter’s head, then rested her chin on it. She shut her eyes, curling her tail around Squirrelpaw. In that moment, she swore had caught a drift of her father’s scent.
(A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed this mini fix about Sandstorm and Squirrelpaw! If you don’t know, I headcanon Squirrelflight as trans mtf, and I thought it would be cool for Sandstorm, who’s dad was trans, to react to Squirrelpaw being trans as well. She’s a good supportive mom.)
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