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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER SIX

DRAGGING ON AND ALL AT ONCE

Gorsestorm is quite the busy little bee. Herein lies one of the longest (and best? worst? middling, maybe?) days of his life.

Gorsestorm tried not to groan as he slumped back into camp, paws aching and nose still burning from the smell of the Town. It was only midmorning, the sky a brilliant blue, and he tried to let the good news of this last meeting bolster him a bit. Finally, after almost three weeks, both Turtledove and Littlesong had infiltrated the colonies they were seeking out. The little Thunderclanner was practically beaming with pride when she gave them the news- Gorsestorm could tell how much it had bothered her, not having anything to share in the previous meeting. Turtledove was still technically on probation, but she expected to be given a full welcome soon, and in the meanwhile still had her ear to the ground about Featherfall. Littlesong was fully ingratiated, getting along well with most of his new colony mates, and finally having ditched his collar, something the Riverclanner seemed all too happy with. Encouragingly, both had heard whispers that there was some molly that directed a both of their colonies, alongside some others, which pointed to Featherfall being active on the scene. It had been difficult to be the bearer of bad news and bring down the mood of the meeting, but Gorsestorm had to then tell the spies about Sparkpaw’s kidnapping.

They had been upset, to say the least.

Both Littlesong and Turtledove had heard of a cat being held somewhere, some of their respective colony members being sent out for ‘guard duty,’ although everything was kept rather hush hush. Before Gorsestorm told them it was most likely Sparkpaw, however, they hadn’t paid much attention, too busy trying to find out anything about Featherfall. They would be much more cognizant of it now, Littlesong even promising to try and get assigned to guard duty- they had all agreed it would be suspicious for Turtledove to do so given her new status in the group, although the calico had seemed almost guilty about it. More bad news was that the Town cats as a collective seemed to be becoming more hostile to Shadowclan’s presence in their territory, a scuffle even breaking out in the park, something that hadn’t happened in years. Rosestar was being quite aggressive in his search for his son, which, you know, Gorsestorm couldn’t really blame him for, but it came at the cost of heightening tensions between them and the Town cats. If this kept up, Littlesong and Turtledove would really be on their own, with no warriors loitering somewhere in the Town to call on. But Gorsestorm didn’t have any control over what Rosestar did- the best he could do was warn the spies about current events and advise them on how to handle it. They both had seemed more determined than anything when they parted ways, promising to do whatever they could to help locate Sparkpaw- hopefully that would help Rosestar tone it down a bit. The pointed tom hadn’t given much of an outward reaction when Gorsestorm told him, but Pinenose and their other two children had seemed relieved. Gorsestorm had then met with Nightrock and Squirrelnose at Fourtrees and given them the update. The Windclanner had also managed to give Nightrock a more thorough update on Bluetail. He’d stopped by a few times to visit the queen in the nursery, both to help the Thunderclanner out and to try and take a more interested role in his Clan, managing to quietly tell her that he would help pass messages along to her secret mate. Both cats were incredibly grateful, and Gorsestorm just tried not to feel too guilty about it- Shalestar obviously knew about it, and she hadn’t done anything, so he didn’t need to worry about it, right?

“Oh good, you’re back. I would advise you to prepare yourself- something important is about to take place.” Now, Gorsestorm couldn’t help but let out that groan.

“I don’t enjoy the cryptic, mystic, seer-healer act,” he complained, glaring down at a grinning Teaseltuft. “What’s going on now?”

“Fine. The kits are being apprenticed at sun high, and, of course, you’re playing a big role there, aren’t you? Best not to embarrass poor Nightkit and clean yourself up.” Gorsestorm tried not to let his surprise show, but not much got past the medicine cat these days. “You forgot.”

“I did not forget-”

“You so did. Gorsestorm, I told you yesterday-”

“Being distracted is not the same as forgetting-”

“Ah, the future of Windclan looks bright.” The two young cats looked up sheepishly to see an unamused Shalestar and very much amused Palesky walking towards them. “Honestly,” the gray leader drawled, “I look forward to the day I look down from the heavens and see you two running this place.”

“Still better than me,” Palesky said cheerily. It seemed his children’s impending ceremonies had put him in a good mood, his typical anxiety traded in for atypical excitement. “Another step closer today, hm, Gorsestorm? Nightkit is nearly beside himself, he’s so excited.” Which for the little tom meant he was probably smiling and tolerating his siblings with more patience than normal. He was a rather stoic little thing, especially for a kit, something that Gorsestorm also wondered about. Maybe it was the middle ground between Palesky’s anxious fussing and Littlestream’s unfailing nonchalance?

“You have some time to eat and get yourself together before the ceremony.” Shalestar said, and it was more of a command than a bit of advice. “Be ready for noon exactly- you will all need time to tour the territory and make it back before dark.” Now, Shalestar didn’t expect any attacks on their Clan given the distance of the moor from the Town, as well as the fact any interloper would have to make it unnoticed through other Clan territory first, but she still didn’t want cats out after dark if it could be helped. Teaseltuft was sent to the Moonstone with no less than three warriors, and the plan for the apprentices was to also have at least two warriors per apprentice when they were out and about. For all that Gorsestorm was the intended replacement for Palesky, the older tom was still deputy, still important to Shalestar in general, and thus, his children were potential targets. Since it seemed Featherfall was really looking to hit the Clan’s where it hurt, anyway, targeting the leaders’ families. Allegedly Nightrock himself had had a run in with some rogues near the Houses, although he had escaped mostly unscathed, the tentative connection there his having been Mintstar’s apprentice. Since she had no other living family- aside from the obvious- it seemed another target had been picked for her. So now Shalestar was worried for her not only her own children, but also her young nieces and nephews, and thus the new rules. Maybe Robinsong will want to take Nightkit out with me…

“Hey, Gorse!” Speaking of. Gorsestorm bid his leadership and medicine cat a hasty goodbye, serenely ignoring their knowing looks as he trotted over to join Robinsong. At least that whole thing was going well. Well, as well as could be expected. They weren’t courting, but they were spending intentional time together, or whatever crap Teaseltuft had come up with in her unsolicited commentary on the whole affair. It was a little stymied by the fact Robinsong was basically mentoring Lily at this point, meaning the white molly was usually around when Gorsestorm would rather her not be, as much as he tried to be kind about it. However, right now Robinsong was waiting with a large rabbit, a bright grin, and nobody else around, the perfect combination. “How was the Town?” She asked as he came to sit beside her, offering a friendly blink. “Any word about Sparkpaw?” Now, most of the Clan was not aware of the specific going ons of this whole spy thing, but… Gorsestorm had confided in Robinsong about it. He needed someone to talk to, alright? And she was smart and had good ideas, like when she suggested he disguise his scent with plants from the Houses to hide the swampy smell from Shadowclan before meeting with the spies- initially, they hadn’t thought it was a big deal if he dragged Shadowclan scent around, as long as he didn’t smell like Windclan. It wouldn’t be odd for a Shadowclanner to be mingling with Town cats, after all. But with tensions rising, better to not have any Clan association at all.

“They’ve heard rumors about it, but nothing concrete. They’re going to try and find out though,” he replied, sinking down with a sigh. It felt so nice to lie down after trekking around since before dawn. “How’s it going here?” Robinsong filled him in with the Clan news from the morning- the kits were nearly bursting with excitement, Morningkit in particular being a menace. Lily had been sent out with a hunting patrol to see how she fared, Teaseltuft was walking around with an even bigger grin than usual but refusing to say why, Buzzardclaw had gotten into a tiff with the other elders… refreshingly normal stuff.

“Do you want to come out with me and Nightkit for his tour?” Gorsestorm asked casually, finishing off his share of the rabbit. “We have to have two warriors with him, you know.” And it was unlikely Robinsong would be getting one of the kits as an apprentice. Kiteclaw and Heathernose, as the more distant heirs, would be getting Dawnkit and Duskkit, respectively, but Morningkit’s mentor was a mystery to them- Shalestar had informed them individually about their assignments and they had, of course, immediately told each other, but so far Morningkit’s mentor had yet to reveal themselves. However, they could guess he would probably get a more experienced mentor, given his personality, as well as the fact he was still the leader’s kin. Personally, Gorsestorm was betting on Sheepear- the older queen was unbothered by practically anything and could hopefully wrangle Morningkit without much trouble.

“Yeah, that would be great- it’ll give me a break from Lily, at least.” The brown molly gave him a guilty smile. “She’s nice enough, she’s just…”

“Just?” He probed, ear flicking. In his opinion, the white molly was an odd duck, who also had no regard for personal space. His, in particular.

“Just a little over eager.” She finished. Ah, a kind way of putting it. Gorsestorm could stand to learn from Robinsong’s more delicate way of phrasing things. “And interested in the strangest things. I must have explained to her the hereditary leadership three times at this point. I don’t think she understands relations outside of immediate family very well.” That was the odd thing about outsiders. Unlike the Clans, they didn’t have a concept of cousins, aunts, uncles, anything besides parents, grandparents, and siblings. The Clans, meanwhile, kept very good track of family, claiming relations up to their cousins’ children. Like how he knew he was kin with Cinderfall and Silverfang, or Nightkit and his siblings. Beyond that, though, he wouldn’t consider any of their children his cousins or family as such, since at that point the bloodline was spread too thin. The medicine cats kept track of all that, however, to make sure bloodlines didn’t cross over too much, so your average warrior didn’t worry too much about it. “She keeps asking why you would qualify as Heir when you’re not Shalestar’s direct descendent. Oh well, I don’t even know if it’s important enough to get into it. I’m not sure she plans on staying.”

“She needs to figure it out,” Gorsestorm grumbled, laying his head on his paws. “She’s been camping out here long enough.” Robinsong just laughed, a very nice sound, and his eyelids started growing heavy.

“Am I really that boring?” Robinsong teased, noticing the way he was starting to nod off. “Putting you to sleep with my ramblings?”

“I wouldn’t say ramblings,” Gorsestorm yawned, jaw cracking nicely. “Bit of a tangent, maybe…” The molly snorted.

“I can tell when I’m not wanted,” she sniffed, but a quick glance revealed her green eyes sparkling with humor. “Enjoy your nap- I’ll send Morningkit over to wake you up before the ceremony.”

“Just tell me you hate me,” he whined, “it’ll be less painful than whatever he does to me!” But he really was exhausted, and Gorsestorm couldn’t keep his eyes open now, threat of Morningkit’s terror be damned. Robinsong left him with a fond nudge, and between the soft dirt he was laying in and the gentle sun warming his back, the warrior was soon asleep.

______________________________________________________________

What felt like a moment later, sharp teeth pricked in his ear.

“Shit!” He yelped, startled, ripping his head away with a swift yank. That’s my bad ear too, the one Shalestar had split. Rolling away from his attacker, he came back up with a pointed glare. “Morningkit,” he hissed, the unrepentant terror just smiling at him. “Do you have no concept of appropriate use of force? What are they teaching kits these days?”

“You’re being a baby,” the little tom replied, tail lashing, and Gorsestorm could only sputter. “Come on, it’s almost time!”

“Morningkit,” someone scolded, and Gorsestorm greeted his savior with a grateful look. Littlestream was the only cat alive who could cow Morningkit into something resembling obedience. The kit in question wilted, looking up at his mother with sorrowful eyes, which she ignored with practice ease. “Do not speak to someone like that, it’s incredibly rude. An apprentice certainly knows better than to be so crude.” Resigned to his scolding, Morningkit scuffed at the ground, but conceded with a sigh.

“Yes, Mama,” he murmured, before giving Gorsestorm a somewhat sincere look. “Sorry, Gorsestorm, you’re not a baby.” Close enough. The golden-brown tom gave him a benign nod. Hopefully his mentor will be able to help soften those edges. Littlestream led Morningkit back over to the nursery, where Palesky was trying to groom Duskkit into looking more presentable, fussing in full force. Gorsestorm took the opportunity to get his own pelt in order, and by the time Shalestar called the Clan meeting, he looked every inch the proper warrior.

Hopefully.

Gorsestorm trotted over to the front of the gathering crowd, sitting next to Heathernose, Kiteclaw on her other side. The kittens would be apprenticed in birth order, as was proper, which meant Nightkit was going first. Gorsestorm tried not to fidget, excitement racing through his veins. Nightkit, on the other side of the half circle that had formed, offered him a huge grin, which Gorsestorm eagerly returned.

“Today marks one of the best days a Clan can have- the apprenticeship of our Clan’s future!” Shalestar announced, an easy smile on her face. “Let us begin. Nightkit, Dawnkit, Duskkit, and Morningkit. You have reached the age of six moons and are ready to take the next step in the life of a Clan cat. Nightkit, come forward.” The gray tom padded into the center of the clear space, face composed but yellow eyes bright. “From now until you are blessed with your full name, you will be known as Nightpaw. Gorsestorm will guide you down the path of a warrior- may he lead you well.” Gorsestorm came forward, heart racing and paws tingling with excitement, stopping in front of Nightpaw. “Gorsestorm, you received an excellent education from Falconstar. I trust you will give Nightpaw the training and support he needs to become a true warrior of Windclan.” Gorsestorm pressed his nose to Nightpaw’s, unable to stop his grin, as much as he wanted to stay composed. Finally- finally he was one step closer to fulfilling his role, to becoming a leader Windclan could be proud of. There was a few cheers for Nightpaw as they withdrew to the side, and Dawnpaw and Duskpaw’s ceremonies proceeded in a similar way. When Morningkit stepped forward, however, there was a pause, as everyone looked at each other. Who would his mentor be? “Morningkit, from now until you are blessed with your full name, you will be known as Morningpaw.” A beat. “Teaseltuft will guide you down the path of a healer- may she lead you well.” The Clan practically erupted as the medicine cat padded forward, a bright smile on her face as she offered a gob smacked Gorsestorm a wink. Morningpaw? A medicine cat? “Tonight,” Shalestar called over the din, “Teaseltuft will take Morningpaw to the Moonstone and ask for Starclan’s blessing. Pending their approval, Morningpaw will be the next medicine cat apprentice of Windclan!” The Clan yowled and cried out their approval, a heightened excitement rippling through the crowd like a wave. How fortunate, to have a star born so soon after the loss of Kestrelcall. Gorsestorm could hear Dipperwing cheering in the crowd- the tom sounded choked up, but a quick check showed the almost blinding grin on his face, a supportive Silverfang doing her best to cheer beside him.

“Are you surprised?” Nightpaw asked, looking up at his new mentor. “We found out a little bit ago, but Shalestar told us we couldn’t tell anyone. I thought Morningk- Morningpaw was going to explode.” Gorsestorm could only laugh.

“Well, I hope Teaseltuft knows what she’s up against,” he teased. “Stars know she’s got her work cut out for her.”

“Oh, I had plenty of practice managing you,” came a chipper voice, Teaseltuft and Morningpaw appearing before them, eerily similar grins on their faces. Come to think of it, they did match almost too well, what with their cream coats and green eyes. Morningpaw was just a much smoother, skinnier, ganglier copy of his new mentor. And with much bigger ears. “Everything after that is just a barn hunt.” Gorsestorm fixed her with a mock glare, too happy to be truly miffed.

“Hey, I was managing you, not the other way around.” He retorted, puffing up in false indignation. “Show some respect to your old mentor- you’re giving Nightpaw a poor example.” The apprentices just laughed, Teaseltuft’s eyes crinkled up in glee, and after a few more barbs the new mentors parted ways. Gorsestorm led Nightpaw over to where his siblings and their mentors were sitting, discussing where they would go.

“It’ll be easiest to just split up.” Heathernose said, an eager Duskpaw hanging on to her every word. “It’s too much to have nine cats trying to go together. Duskpaw, Grasspelt and I will head to the barn, and go east around the border from there.”

“I’ll take Dawnpaw towards the Shadowclan border,” Kiteclaw decided, “And I asked Silverfang to come, which means Dipperwing will probably be coming with us too.” Nobody worry about what Nightpaw and I wanted, Gorsestorm thought dryly, but he knew better than to try and tell his sister and cousin what to do.

“South to the river for us, then, Nightpaw,” he said. “Robinsong will be coming with us.” Nightpaw just nodded agreeably, a contrast to the way his sisters were bouncing around, and just then Robinsong trotted over. Gorsestorm bid his kin goodbye, leading the way out of camp. Robinsong was chatting amiably with Nightpaw, telling him of her first day as an apprentice. The breeze was blowing nicely, the sky was still perfectly clear, and the warrior knew this day would always stick out to him as one of the best days of his life. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder, his companions perking up. “Race you to the lookout!” Laughing, they took off at a sprint, Robinsong and Gorsestorm dropping back slightly to allow Nightpaw to take the lead, and as he chanced a look over at Robinsong, her smile bright and eyes sparkling with joy, he was even more certain. Yeah, I could get used to this.

______________________________________________________________

The tour went well, Nightpaw listening to everything Gorsestorm and Robinsong told him with wide, wondering eyes. He particularly enjoyed poking around in the old tunnels and warrens, and even attempted to chase down a rabbit, although it was too slippery for him to catch. Now close to the northeast side of the territory, near where the graveyard was, Gorsestorm decided to call it for the day.

“It’s getting late, and you know how Shalestar worries,” he said, eyeing the brilliant sunset with an almost judgmental gaze. Ugh, we didn’t get to do the whole territory. Nightpaw seemed similarly disappointed, so Gorsestorm gave him a gentle nudge. “Don’t worry, I’ll just get you up super early tomorrow so we can finish up.”

“How early is super early?” Nightpaw asked cautiously, and Gorsestorm just grinned. The little tom had never been fond of mornings, keeping true to his name by being a bit of a night owl. Besides him, Robinsong snorted.

“I wouldn’t worry, Night,” she said pleasantly, “I do not get up ‘super early,’ and if Gorsestorm wants me to come with you again tomorrow, then he’ll have to wait for a reasonable time. Does that sound better?" Relieved, Nightpaw nodded. Gorsestorm playfully rolled his eyes.

“Day one, and my authority has already been undermined twice,” he whined, leading the way back to camp. “Honestly, what does a tom gotta do-”

A rustle in the scrub. Immediately, Gorsestorm was between the others and the noise, fur bushed out and lips drawn back in a snarl. “Robin, get him out of-”

“Sorry!” Came a sheepish call, and Lily tumbled out of the heather, looking like she had gotten in a fight with the plant and lost. Her fine fur had burrs and twigs scattered throughout it, and as she flicked an embarrassed ear a leaf came drifting down. “I’m afraid I got separated from the hunting patrol and have been stuck wandering around in the heather. It’s like a maze!” Gorsestorm relaxed, although he was unhappy with the interruption for a variety of reasons. One, he didn’t need a heart attack. Two, he didn’t want an interloper interrupting such a wonderful day. And, finally, there was the small part of him that still found Lily to be much too suspicious for his tastes. It didn’t help that Morningpaw so vehemently disliked her and now was revealed to be the star born. Was there a connection there? Or was Gorsestorm just paranoid?

“No worries, Lily,” Robinsong said smoothly, and he realized he was still just looking at her through narrowed eyes. The golden-brown tom shook himself, clearing his throat.

“You just startled me, is all,” Gorsestorm tried to say nicely. “We’re a little on edge, you know? Don’t want anything happening to Nightpaw.”

“Oh, of course not,” Lily said, eyes wide. She gave Nightpaw a friendly blink. “How was your first day out and about?”

“Fine.” The apprentice returned shortly, Robinsong giving him a surprised glance. She opened her mouth, possibly to chide him, and Gorsestorm intervened.

“Come on,” he said, flicking his tail towards camp. “It’s getting dark quickly. We need to head home now.” Robinsong gave him a questioning look, but he just flicked an ear. Later. She nodded, the tom grateful she understood, and together they led their little group home. They made it into the camp just as the last of the light was fading from the sky, an impatient Shalestar and worried Palesky waiting for them.

“Thank the ancestors,” Palesky murmured as Nightpaw trotted up to him, greeting his father with an affectionate purr. “I was getting worried.”

“Don’t worry, Dad.” Nightpaw said, rubbing his head on Palesky’s shoulder. “I’m fine! Gorsestorm and Robinsong took me all over, and they taught me so many cool things…” Shalestar waved Gorsestorm over, jerking her head towards her den. The warrior bid Robinsong goodbye, Nightpaw busy telling his father about his first day and Lily already gone. He obediently followed after Shalestar, and they ducked into her den to find Teaseltuft already waiting, eyes bright even in the dark.

“Good news,” she said brightly and without preamble. “I was able to speak to Poppypaw today- well, a little bit, at least.” Gorsestorm almost fell over. What? “She just said ‘Find the spirit seer.’ That’s it. I tried to ask her what she meant, but she just… disappeared again.” The medicine cat shook her head, frustrated. “Honestly, when I first came here, and saw Poppypaw, you know, with the whole ‘justice’ thing? I thought that meant I was the one who was supposed to set her spirit free. But now, with everything that’s happened…” She sighed. “I wonder if I’m just supposed to help someone else do it instead.” Gorsestorm leaned over and gave her a supportive nudge, trying to wrap his head around the news. What, or who, is a spirit seer?

“Wouldn’t you be a spirit seer?” He questioned, casting a glance at Shalestar, who seemed to be lost in thought. “I mean, you’re a medicine cat, and you can obviously see and communicate with spirits on some level. Or maybe would it be one of the others instead?” Teaseltuft hummed, but she seemed doubtful.

“Poppypaw told me to find the spirit seer, so it’s not me, and I don’t think it’s one of the other medicine cats. She would have just said medicine cat, or healer, right? So, it’s got to be someone else.” She shook her head. “I’m going to ask the ancestors for guidance tonight. Hopefully they’ll be a bit more clear than they usually are.”

“Speaking of,” Shalestar said abruptly, “Gorsestorm. It’s been a long day for you, I know.” The warrior, in an incredible show of composure, did not groan, roll his eyes, wince, or do anything to reveal the way he was dying inside. Oh, I know what’s coming next. “But- I want you to go to the Moonstone with Teaseltuft and Morningpaw tonight. Palesky, Grasspelt, Kiteclaw, and Stagleap will be going as well.” Ah, so Shalestar was sending her best fighters to guard the medicine cats. Makes an unfortunate amount of sense. “In return, you are excused from any and all duties tomorrow- take the day to rest and spend time with Nightpaw.” Gorsestorm paused. That wasn’t a bad deal, considering he’d expected to have a full day tomorrow, tired as he already was. What was one last job if it meant he had a whole day off? Looks like Robinsong and Nightpaw will get the lie in they wanted. Gorsestorm nodded.

“Sounds good to me. When do we leave?” Teaseltuft’s whiskers twitched in amusement, but she didn’t comment on his sudden enthusiasm.

“Very soon. I need to put together some travelling herbs for Morningpaw. I’d suggest getting a snack before we go- you could use the energy after such a long day.” He once again nodded agreeably, giving Shalestar a respectful dip of the head in goodbye before following Teaseltuft out of the den. The clearing was mostly empty, really just the patrol Shalestar had assigned to the medicine cats lingering on the fringes. Gorsestorm grabbed himself a sparrow before settling down near the medicine den, keeping an eye on the entrance as he waited for Teaseltuft to emerge. Nightpaw was sitting outside with Morningpaw, the cream tom exuberantly acting out… something? For his amused brother. It almost looked like he was pretending to fight something into submission. Gorsestorm just hoped the tom didn’t misunderstand Teaseltuft when she spoke about ‘wrangling patients.’

“Gorsestorm? Do you have a moment?” The warrior looked up to see Grasspelt, of all cats, sitting in front of him, looking slightly… nervous? Bemused, Gorsestorm nodded, swallowing the bite he had just taken.

“Of course, what can I do for you?” Gorsestorm and Grasspelt were relatively friendly, but it wasn’t like they were friends. The tom was a couple years older, a laid-back sort of fellow, but a wicked fighter. Why the tom hadn’t taken the -claw name was beyond him. Gorsestorm idly remembered asking the cream warrior for sparring tips back when he was an apprentice- Grasspelt had been kind enough to oblige, showing him moves that, at the time, had been the coolest thing little Gorsepaw had ever seen. He snapped back into reality at Grasspelt’s next question.

“I wanted to ask your permission to seek courtship with Heathernose.” It took every ounce of strength to keep his eyes from bugging out. He managed to keep it to a wide-eyed look.

“O-oh? You, uh, you want to court Heather?” That’s literally what he just said, dummy, he internally hissed at himself, but Grasspelt, in his geniality, simply nodded.

“I’ve already cleared it with Teaseltuft,” the cream tom said, “and she said there is no issue with it on her end. And, um…” Now, his nerves seemed to be getting the better of him, as he shuffled in place, ears twitching. “I’ve been spending more time with Heathernose lately, and, well, I asked her what she thought about it, and she said she’d, uh, be fine- or um, not fine, you know, she seemed happy about it-”

“Well, if Heather is happy with it, then that’s enough for me.” Gorsestorm interrupted, then fixed him with a hard glare. “I’d threaten you myself, but just know nothing I do could be worse than what Kiteclaw could do to you, alright? And I’m not afraid to sic her on you.” Grasspelt nodded seriously, and the toms lapsed into an almost awkward silence. Kiteclaw, bless her, took the opportunity to come padding over.

“Asked the question, then, hm, Grass?” She chirped, and the tom nodded sheepishly, Gorsestorm shooting her a look. “Sorry Gorse,” Kiteclaw mewed, not sounding sorry at all. “If you knew Grass and Heather had started padding after each other, she wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on with you and Robin. Feel free to torture her at your leisure.” Gorsestorm, unwilling to admit how much the thought tempted him, sniffed imperiously.

“I am not that immature.” He drawled, then paused. “Is she still awake?” His cousin laughed, shaking her head.

“Nah, she’s supposed to be on dawn patrol tomorrow, so she went to bed early. Unfortunately, you’re out of luck until then. Try not to let the anticipation get to you.” The molly then departed with a satisfied flick of her tail, and Gorsestorm felt a mix of amusement and sadness as she padded away. Honestly, he had expected to be having this conversation with Thrushspots about Kiteclaw at this point, not Grasspelt and Heathernose. Since both of Kiteclaw’s parents were dead, now, a tom would have to approach either him or Shalestar to ask permission to court her. But Thrush was gone, and now who knew if someone else would ever ask?

“If it makes you feel better,” Grasspelt said, drawing Gorsestorm back to the present, “I approached her about it only this morning. This was just quite literally the first moment I had to ask you about it.” Gorsestorm smiled, a little bit of tension relaxing. He hadn’t really liked the idea of Heather not talking to him about this, hurt starting to creep in, but if it had just happened…

“No worries,” he said, and the other tom minutely slumped in relief. “I’ve been busy trekking the whole of the territories, after all. Doesn’t leave much time for conversation.” The golden-brown warrior took the opportunity to chat with his sister’s potential beau, figuring he should start making an effort to be friends if they were to share kin someday. Grasspelt was quietly funny, and almost surprisingly smart, which was probably why Heathernose was giving him the time of day. She was definitely more of the intellectual type- Gorsestorm could only stand so many theoretical discussions about the Code and how the ancestors worked and blah blah blah, so it was good she found someone willing to engage on that level. Soon enough, though, Teaseltuft emerged, calling for her apprentice and entourage. The group headed out, off to that all too familiar meeting spot. They arrived to see the rest of the medicine cats already there, Fernfire complaining, Snowdrift chuckling, and Splashpaw gleefully egging the Shadowclanner on. Each healer had their own warrior accompaniment- Cloudclaw and a ginger molly for Snowdrift, Crowcall and Houndtooth with Fernfire, and Squirrelnose and a gray molly for Splashpaw. The Shadowclanner’s looked up as the large Windclan patrol approached, Fernfire ribbing them with a mischievous grin.

“My, how well protected you are, young Teasel,” he called, smiling as they came to a stop before the others. “I am going to have to tell Rosestar I feel downright neglected. No offense, of course.” This last part was to a mildly amused Crowcall and an unimpressed Houndtooth. Teaseltuft just laughed in response.

“Actually, this pomp and circumstance is for Morningpaw here. He’s much more important than I am, I’m afraid.” She stepped aside to show the uncharacteristically shy Morningpaw, the little tom having hidden himself behind his new mentor’s fluff. He cautiously dipped his head in greeting, large ears slightly turned back as all eyes landed on him.

“Well, welcome aboard, Morningpaw!” Splashpaw greeted cheerily, Morningpaw relaxing a bit at the obvious show of good will. “Very exciting to have you with us.” The other medicine cats echoed the well wishes, and with a cleared throat from Fernfire, were off to the Moonstone. Crowcall dropped back to walk with Gorsestorm and Grasspelt, giving the cream tom a friendly nod.

“How’s prey running in Windclan?” He asked with a tired grin.

“Quickly,” Grasspelt replied, getting a small laugh out of the Shadowclanner. “And I’m sure it’s hopping in Shadowclan as well.”

“That it is,” Crowcall chuckled. But it seemed almost forced, and it was impossible to ignore the exhaustion clinging to the typically mischievous tom.

“How’s Briarmask?” Gorsestorm asked quietly. He knew the molly was recovering physically, Fernfire confident she would have no lasting effects from her wounds, but mentally…

“Still trying to sneak out to find Sparkpaw,” Crowcall said, a mixture of exasperation and affection in his tone. “It’s… hard for her. She swore an oath to protect him when he was a kit, and she takes it very seriously.” Gorsestorm nodded sympathetically. He’d only been Nightpaw’s mentor for a day, but if anything happened to him- well, he couldn’t blame Briarmask for her reaction. Not even counting that they’re kin.

“Hopefully Turtledove and Littlesong will find something out soon.” He murmured, and Crowcall nodded. The Shadowclanner then moved on, asking about Nightpaw and telling horror stories about Emberpaw, who was even more prone to acting out these days. They made it to the Mothermouth without incident, the medicine cats trailing in and leaving the warriors to stand guard. Bored, Gorsestorm looked around idly. With almost a dozen warriors standing guard, not even a dog would make an attempt to harass them, and maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to relax, but he also had been up since before dawn and all. Surely he deserved a little break? The tom felt like he had only closed his eyes for a moment before the medicine cats reemerged, faces bright with smiles, Splashpaw in particular puffed up like a bullfrog.

“Good news, I presume?” Squirrelnose asked, a slight smile on his face. Splashpaw nodded exuberantly.

“I have received my name from Reedpelt, with the ancestor’s blessing- my name is Splashbelly now!” All the warriors joined in a brief cheer for the new medicine cat, and despite not knowing him well, Gorsestorm couldn’t help but feel proud of the young healer- he had struggled greatly after the death of his mentor, but still managed to become a medicine cat his Clan could rely on. Splashbelly nodded to Teaseltuft, who nudged Morningpaw forward with a grin.

“And Morningpaw has been accepted by the ancestors! He is officially the new healer apprentice of Windclan.” The Windclan warriors cheered loudly for Morningpaw, who pinned his ears back but had a grin splitting his face, a mixture of abashed and gleeful. After they settled, the large group set out, Windclan splitting off early to take a more direct route back to their camp. Teaseltuft motioned Gorsestorm over, a few tail lengths away from the rest, and the moment he drew close to her, the young healer’s smile dropped.

“I received a warning from the ancestors.” Dread pooled in his stomach, but he kept his expression stoic. “I was gathering herbs, and I found a strange plant I’ve never seen before. Something compelled me to bring it back to camp, and when I did, Shalestar ate it. She grew sick, and died, and there was nothing I could do.” Now, he couldn’t help the way he stumbled, his distress peaking at the fraught look on Teaseltuft’s face. “I don’t know what this plant is, and I tried to describe it to the others, but they didn’t know either. Snowdrift thought he might have heard of such a plant in the Houses- I need to find out what it is, what it might mean.”

“Describe it to me, then,” Gorsestorm urged, the anxiety sending renewed energy through his veins. “I’ll go and find it, find what it is, and then-“ Teaseltuft shook her head.

“You can’t be seen wandering the Houses or the Town, and I’m sure there are plenty of strange plants there that might match the description. No, I need to go, and I can’t have any Windclanners with me- everyone would stick out too much.” Gorsestorm didn’t like that at all, not one bit, but when he opened his mouth to protest Teaseltuft cut him off. “I spoke to Snowdrift. He promised me that his brother and another warrior could take me, as they have experience in the Town but have not been around enough to be recognized. I’m going to speak to Shalestar about this tomorrow morning and get her approval.” Notice how she didn’t say ask for her approval. Gorsestorm grouched to himself, but reluctantly acquiesced. Maybe he could get to Shalestar before her and sway the leader into not allowing it.

“Did you find out anything about the spirit seer?” He asked instead, and was further weighed down by disappointment when she shook her head.

“But,” Teaseltuft said, “Fernfire did. We think it might be a Shadowclanner, based on that. He saw Poppypaw in the swamp, sitting on a stump. He plans on going there to investigate. Although,” she hesitated, “we do find it strange that no one has told him about their ability to see ghosts, which makes him feel it might be one of the apprentices, or even one of the kits, which. Well.”

“Would be incredibly dangerous for them,” Gorsestorm finished, mulling it over. He couldn’t imagine it being one of the apprentices- Sunpaw was much too obedient and honest to not have approached Fernfire about it, and Emberpaw was- well. Emberpaw. So that left one of the kits, some of whom, at least, were approaching apprentice age. Not that that made the thought of involving such a young cat in this dangerous affair any better. “I hope the ancestors know what they’re doing.” He murmured. Teaseltuft offered him a weak smile.

“Sometimes they do.” They lapsed into silence, exhaustion once again hitting Gorsestorm full force. This has been the longest day of my life. And despite the promise of a day off, he had the sinking feeling that tomorrow would be just as busy. Father, he begged, paws dragging after Teaseltuft and his head and heart heavy with doubt, do us all a favor, and help us figure this out.

I don't think we can do this on our own.

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#warriors ocs #warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #my writing #wc pyrophyte #wc fanfic

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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER FIVE

AS THE ROMANS DO

Turtledove is struggling her way through the Town, desperate to the point she's happy to be spending time with strangers. Strangers! One of whom is a tom, and oh dear, what would her mother say?

Chapter Text

The Town was really not a fun place to be.

Turtledove’s sense of adventure had worn off days ago, and now the only thing keeping her from fleeing home with her tail between her legs was a dogged determination to not prove everyone right. She wanted to prove them wrong, remember? So, despite being harassed at all hours, having to constantly scrounge for food, and going empty pawed to her first meeting with Littlesong and Gorsestorm, Turtledove kept trying. Life as a lone cat in the Town was rough. She had been chased out of too many alleys to count, her stuttering explanations or requests for help met with sharp words and blows. While mice and rats abounded, and birds and squirrels were creeping back with the warmth, the best hunting grounds were closely guarded by different colonies and groups. What was left she had to fight for with every other drifter on the block. Just yesterday, she had been forced to abandon a rat she caught by three cats about her age, who had leapt out of the shadows the moment she had cracked the creature’s spine. It was embarrassing to relate these stories to the others, especially since Littlesong was already on probation with a colony that Gorsestorm recognized. He had won some sparring match and been welcomed in like a long-lost son. Where was that kind of luck for Turtledove?

As evening passed and the human traffic began to slow, Turtledove desperately prayed that tonight would be different. She’d found shelter in what Tulipstem had called a cardboard box- it was smelly, and damp, and she was all too happy to leave it. The calico had recently made her way to the part of Town Gorsestorm had told her about, and had slowly been making her way around it since their last meeting. She was specifically looking out for Rocky or his colony mates, whose descriptions she had memorized. The warrior hadn’t had any luck in asking around, so she was forced to explore and hope for the best. Tonight, her plan was to head over to a cluster of alleys near some human food places- they were prime colony territory, and if Gorsestorm was right about Rocky, he’d have at least some control in an area like that. It would be dangerous, though, so she kept her guard up, slinking through the shadows and sticking to what hiding places there were. The smell of human food- both disgusting and alluring in equal measure- soon wafted in on the breeze, and as Turtledove came to the last street she would need to cross, she stopped to give herself a pep talk.

You are a Thunderclan warrior. You are smart and clever. You can do this if you don’t let your fear overwhelm you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You can beat any cat here in a fight, and if you don’t find your answers tonight, you can try again tomorrow. It was something Mintstar had taught her. Taking a moment before she tried something, especially something she was nervous about, to recenter and focus on her strengths instead of her weakness would make her more likely to succeed. Feeling a bit more confident, she took a deep breath, checked for cars, and raced across the road. She hid underneath a sleeping car on the other side, trying to get a read on what was going on in the alleys. There were a couple of cats around, but they all seemed to be either coming or going, not stopping to speak with anyone outside of their own groups. Maybe this is a shared area, and I won’t get chased out. Colonies did that sometimes, apparently. Particularly food rich areas might be controlled by a few different groups, who decided it was easier to share than constantly tear each other apart over it. If that was the case here, Turtledove might be able to wander around without immediately being run off.

Hopefully.

Trying to act casual, but also like she knew what she was doing, Turtledove slipped out from underneath the car and made for the alley at a swift but steady pace. So far so good, the first group of cats ignored her, okay, one gave her a dirty look, but didn’t say anything, she was by the first dumpster now, take a sniff, act normal, Turtle, like you’re allowed to be here…

“And who, exactly, are you?” Fox shit. Turtledove ignored the voice, hoping maybe they would go away, or were talking to someone else- “Hey, tiny, I’m talking to you!” Tiny? Bristling, Turtledove looked over her shoulder with a glare, trying to not to show how nervous she was when she saw her challenger.

Two toms and two mollies stood there, ranging from apprentice aged to almost senior warrior, and none of them looked happy to see her. The tom at the front, the oldest, and probably the one who had called her out, was scowling something fierce. Carefully, the calico turned completely to face them, shoulders relaxed but ready to run if she needed to.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she replied, trying to sound neutral instead of aggressive or, you know, terrified. Tulipstem had repeated over and over that Turtledove would be expected to act just as cagey and standoffish as all the other Town cats- being too precocious or friendly would read as either weakness or disrespect, both of which were equally dangerous. It’s all about gauging the other cat- don’t let anybody push you around, but don’t try to start anything, especially when you’re alone. And Turtledove was very much alone, a fact she was all too aware of as the four cats moved a bit closer.

“It’s my business because I’m in charge here,” the tom growled, and Turtledove narrowed her eyes. He could be telling the truth, in which case she would be smart to offer a quick apology before getting out of there, but something seemed… off. Another once over revealed that all the cats were just a bit too skinny, hips and ribs just a little too visible beneath their coats. If he ran such good territory, they wouldn’t be going hungry. Tilting her chin back just a bit, Turtledove fixed the tom’s pink nose with a hard stare.

“That’s funny,” she mewed, “since I know for a fact that this is shared ground, and I don’t think the cats who are really in charge would be happy to hear you playing boss.” Success- her gut instinct had proven right as a spark of uncertainty flitted across the tom’s face. But then, all of sudden, a part of her felt bad. Her once over revealed a similarity between the older tom and molly and the younger ones- they were probably a family, and the tom was trying to make sure they had something to eat. Dropping her gaze, Turtledove jerked her head back at the dumpster. “But again… it’s shared territory, so I can’t stop you from getting something to eat. Just like you can’t stop me.” Silence. A quick glance showed the cats were now looking at her carefully, the two younger cats exchanging a look she couldn’t read. The warrior decided to extend one last offer of peace. “My name is Turtle, though, if you really care to know.” The older molly, or queen, probably, a torbie with bright orange patches, relaxed a bit, and the tom, a pale gray, let out a sigh.

“Smokey. This is my mate, Shimmer, and our children, Rook and Tawny.” Turtledove gave them a careful nod, a large part of her happy to have an actual conversation with someone after two weeks of being shunned. Smokey cleared his throat. “Apologies, but you know how it is.” And she actually did.

“Unfortunately, I do,” she said drily, surprising herself with how much she sounded like Mintstar in that moment. “I think if the five of us take this dumpster most cats will leave us alone, though.” She tried to not sound stiff, like this was just a normal part of her daily life and not something she was playing pretend with. Smokey nodded, thankfully, motioning for his mate and children to stay put while he leapt atop the dumpster, Turtle joining him a moment later. She purposefully let him take first dibs, and the tom grabbed a large chunk of only slightly foul meat, tossing it back down to his family. Turtledove carefully chose a bone with only a few mouthfuls of meat left on it, jumping back down to join Shimmer and the others.

“You should eat with us,” Shimmer said, her yellow eyes kind. “Nobody else will pick on you if you’re with a group. You are alone, aren’t you?” It would reveal her vulnerability to tell the truth, that she was painfully alone here, but she needed to make some connections. Honesty might help more than being dodgy in this case. At least, she hoped it would- really, how amoral could these cats be?

“Yes,” she murmured, starting slightly as a few meaty bones came falling over the side of the dumpster. “So I appreciate the invitation.” Shimmer nodded sympathetically, nudging the meat over to her children before grabbing the bones for herself. Smokey joined a few moments later, carrying a similar meal to Turtledove’s, coaxing his family over to a pile of scrap wood a little further down the alley. It offered some shelter from prying eyes looking for an easy meal, which was good enough for Turtledove, who followed the family over at a respectful distance. Once settled in the shadows, Shimmer pinned her once more with a curious look.

“You’re a little young to be on your own,” the queen began, and Turtledove internally prepared to give her little spiel about her tragic past. “Why, you can’t be much older than Rook and Tawny.” Okay, that’s a little much.

“I’ve seen my full turn of the seasons,” she mewed, looking carefully at an orange splash just under the queen’s eye. “But I was… separated, from my family. Taken to this part of Town by a human. A, well, uh, a few weeks ago. To be honest, I… don’t really know where I am.” She cast Smokey an apologetic look. “I only guessed about you not being the boss, but you know how it is.” He gave her a wry grin.

“Unfortunately, I do.” Turtledove couldn’t help but smile. “It’s terrible, what humans do to us.” Turtledove was content to have her meal with the little family, Rook and Tawny finally piping up after they finished their food. It was nice to finally have someone to talk to, even if they were strangers. They told her a bit about the area of Town they were in, and she was able to get confirmation that there were a few ruling colonies in this area, one of which was run by a tabby named Rocky and his mate.

“They had an issue with their colony splitting up a bit, few moons past,” Smokey mused, idly rolling the picked clean bone beneath his paw. “But last I heard he’s picked up a couple new cats. If he can’t get his numbers back up, though, another colony will probably try for his territory soon.” He cast Turtledove a considering glance. “Maybe you should look into it. It’s not good for a young molly like you to be on her own. Plenty of unsavory types around here.” Excellent. Now I can ask about it without being suspicious.

“I’ll take what I can at this point,” she said, trying not to sound overly eager, but also not reluctant. A fine balance, like all this acting nonsense required. “Where can I find them?” She tried not to let the disappointment crush her at the uncertain look on Smokey’s face.

“We… try to avoid real colony territory as much as possible. I think the last place they set up was a few alleys over, near the warehouse, but that was a bit ago. They could have moved by now.” Another impossibility of the Town. Colonies moved all the time, either because of humans or weather or other colonies. It was making her job all the more difficult. “You could at least try over that way, see who you can find.” As disappointed as she was, this was good. Or an improvement, at least, right? Before tonight she was just… roaming around, but now she had some direction, and an honest cover story for why she was asking around. See? It’s fine. It’s more than fine, you can do this, this is what you were praying for. Thanks, ancestors, for this.

“I definitely will, thank you. For the advice and the meal, that is.” Smokey snorted, but stood, signaling for his family to join him. Once again, Turtledove beat back the wave of disappointment she felt as she realized it was time for them to leave. I really have missed being around cats if I’m sad to see them go. What has the world come to? They wouldn’t recognize her back home, if they saw her moved almost to tears at the idea she wouldn’t be around strangers for a little longer.

“Stay safe out there, Turtle.” He rumbled. Turtledove nodded in return.

“I will, thank you. Uh, you all too. Stay safe. And thanks again.” The family bid their goodbyes and then slipped off into the night, Turtledove left sitting alone in the shadows of the scrap heap. She heaved a sigh. Well, it’s not too late. I could at least try to make my way towards the warehouse tonight, and really look for them tomorrow. Bracing herself once more, she set out.

______________________________________________________________

The warehouse wasn’t too far from where the shared territory was, at least from what Gorsestorm had told her and Smokey had confirmed, although the directions both gave were remarkably vague. But from what she had learned, it was a sort of landmark in the Town. While busy with humans and their strange machines, there were plenty of rodents for those brave enough to venture in. And Smokey had given her at least a general direction to head in, so she could figure it out from there. Probably. She would have to, since it was unlikely she’d get that kind of help again anytime soon. Within the hour, and after scaling a few trees to check her surroundings, she could see it, rising above the surrounding buildings like an oak in a cluster of aspens. It had a huge open area around it, made of the same stone the road was and lit up like day with massive streetlamps, and a large, strange, shiny fence along the perimeter. This kind of fence was easier to climb than the wooden ones around the houses, since the honeycomb pattern made for plenty of paw holes. But Turtledove wasn’t looking to get into the warehouse, just find the colony camped near it, so she chose a random alley nearby and set off towards it. Unfortunately, her luck ran out just about then, as three dark figures slipped from the shadows and surrounded her.

“Well, look at this. A lone little molly, wandering around where she has no business being. Not very smart, are you dear?” A cream molly purred, posture relaxed but blue eyes like ice. Irritation swelled in Turtledove’s chest, and she bristled. She was instantly reminded of how Stripestream, Stripepaw back then, had teased her for being dumb when she was a kit because of her oddities. It was a sore spot, even now, which was probably why her mouth got away from her.

“You seem like you would have personal experience with stupidity, so I’ll trust your judgement.” It was satisfying, and she could almost imagine Loudstorm and Beetlewhisker cheering her on, but now the molly just looked pissed, and Turtledove could hear her companions circling behind her. You are dumb, Turtle, running your mouth like that. How are you going to find Featherfall if you’re dead?

“Listen, whelp,” The molly hissed, fur bristling. “Do you have any idea-”

“Buttercup!” All four cats jumped at the sudden jovial interruption, and Turtledove looked wildly up at where the voice came from. “Fancy seeing you here. It’s funny, you know, since you’re not supposed to be.” The speaker was a very large, very fluffy tabby tom, and as he leapt from his position atop a balcony Turtledove couldn’t help but be afraid. He’s huge. He could snap any of us in half like a mouse bone. The tom ambled into the dim light from the warehouse, green eyes glowing with humor, but something about his posture just screamed danger. Buttercup quailed a bit, now seeming nervous herself.

“Knot,” she murmured, gaze darting around. “We were just passing through- thought we’d help Rocky out by chasing off a stray.” Turtledove glared, but Knot just purred.

“Don’t think Rocky can handle his own territory, hm? My, what a low opinion you have. Do you want to find out how we run things here? And how we chase off strays?” Knot took a step forward, and Turtledove couldn’t help but flinch. “Why don’t you three run along now, and I’ll take care of my own business. Sounds good?” Buttercup and her companions didn’t bother to answer, just trotted off quickly into the night, leaving Turtledove alone with the smiling tom. Part of her was screaming run, you idiot, run, but the other part of her was saying that this tom knows Rocky. And that’s what she was here for, right? So she took a deep breath and focused on the stripe that bisected the dark gray toms forehead.

“You said this is Rocky’s territory?” Turtledove asked, absolutely proud of the way her voice did not shake. The tom cocked his head curiously. Turtledove felt distinctly like a mouse might when it saw a predator coming.

“I did indeed. Good listener, you are. Why do you want to know?” He’s not chasing me off. He hasn’t even made any moves to claw me. The warrior forced herself to relax.

“I was told that Rocky was looking for new members for his colony. And since I’m currently without a group, I thought I’d come check it out.” Stars, she was so good at this. Look at her! She could be a Riverclan performer, at this rate. If only Rain and Owl could see this.

“And if he’s not?” Fox shit. Well. That would be terrible, actually. Turtledove kept her expression smooth, although her gaze dropped to Knot’s fluffy paws.

“Well then, I guess I’m out of luck.” Knot laughed, then, and Turtledove couldn’t help her curious look.

“Nobody’s ever out of luck, Spook, and tonight is lucky for the both of us. In fact, I’m going to make you a deal.” For some reason, her mother’s warnings of strange toms came ringing back through her head, and she tensed, giving Knot a guarded look. “See, I’ve noticed you around the past few days,” oh stars, he’s been stalking me, that’s not good- “and I couldn’t help but notice you’re a fantastic hunter, even if you have trouble holding on to your catch.” What? “In my abundant humility, I can admit that I am a terrible hunter, myself. Really, it’s just dismal. All of my strengths lie in more… combative pursuits.” So the humility part was a total lie, the tom practically bled arrogance, but at least the part about fighting seemed truthful. He had run those cats off just by looking at them, basically. But who couldn’t hunt? “The thing is, the colony needs cats who can hunt. If you can catch two hunters worth of prey, I’ll bring you back to Rocky, and vouch for you to join the group.” Lucky indeed. Still, Turtledove couldn’t act too desperate, so she narrowed her eyes.

“So, what you’re saying is, if I do your share of hunting for the colony, as well as my own, you’ll get me in?” Knot nodded amicably, that same amused half grin seeming to be permanently etched on his face. “And Rocky would be fine with that?”

“Rocky wouldn’t need to know,” he said smoothly. “See, winter was hard, so everyone just brought back food scraps anyway. But now that prey is really returning, I’m running out of reasons for not bringing back fresh kill. And my charm and good looks can only get me so far, you know. So, Spook, what do you say?”

“I say yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes to the deal, that is.” Now Knot’s grin was full blown, and he stood with a purr. Turtledove had to crane her head back to maintain her pretend eye contact. He gave her a friendly blink.

“Perfect. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you not to mention this little deal, right?” Knot started off, Turtledove at a trot to keep up.

“Is that a threat?” He shot her a wounded look.

“Spook, I don’t make threats, especially against little things like yourself.” What is it with that tonight? She let out an offended sniff.

“I’m over a year old,” she hissed. “I’m not a kit.” Unfortunately, this seemed to make Knot more excited.

“I just passed my first year as well!” Are you kidding me? He’s a beast! “That makes us peers, then, Spook. I’m getting the feeling we’ll be fast friends, you and I.” Somehow, I doubt that. “Alright then, let’s get started. I can lead you to our good hunting spots, and then it’s up to you. Come along Spook!” He took off at a lope, Turtledove running after him.

“My name isn’t Spook, it’s Turtle.”

“Same thing. Less talking, more running! We’re wasting the night.”

Stars save me from strange toms.

______________________________________________________________

Well, at least that went well. As much as she was reluctant to admit it, she and Knot made a good team. With him hanging in the wings and keeping away potential challengers, Turtledove was able to hunt in peace, and as the first humans started to emerge from their houses, the two young cats had collected a bounty. Knot was impressed, but also strutting along like he had done all the work, which Turtledove did her best to let go. Thankfully, he couldn’t talk around the prey he was carrying, leaving a blissful silence so the warrior could think. She couldn’t mess this up- she had one chance to get in with Rocky, and this was it. She felt better about having Knot to vouch for her, since that would make Rocky more likely to trust her and all, but wait, what if Knot went back on his word? Or if Rocky didn’t care what he thought? Hopefully the prey I caught and my hunting skill will make me valuable enough that that wouldn’t matter. The other thing she was unsure of was exactly how many cats might be in the colony now- Gorsestorm hadn’t mentioned Knot at all, for example. How many more cats could have joined in the past few months? Distracted as she was, Turtledove almost walked directly into Knot’s fluffy tail when he came to a sudden stop.

They were at the mouth of an alley that honestly looked like every other she had seen, but even past the prey in her mouth Turtledove could smell the territory markers that declared it a colony base. Apparently only bases were scent marked, with the wider territory loosely controlled by patrolling colony members, the actual boundaries shifting often- sometimes daily. Knot waved his tail, ushering her forward, his muffled meow something to the effect of we’re here. A wiry dark gray tom stepped from the shadows, eyeing Turtledove with suspicious, beady eyes.

“Knot. Who’s this?” Knot seemed to cheerfully explain, words unintelligible around his full mouth. The other tom was now glaring at him in annoyance, but her companion just jaunted forward, Turtledove scrambling to stay with him, and easily shouldered his way past the tom and further down the alley. The cry of hey! behind them was ignored. At Turtledove’s look, Knot just winked. Turning a corner and slipping through a hole in a wooden fence, they were suddenly in a base camp.

The cordoned off area was smushed between two buildings, capped off by the fence behind them and a brick wall in front of them. Stack of crates, cardboard boxes, and other detritus littered the alley, several cats lounging around. They all looked up as Knot and Turtle entered, falling silent at the sight of a stranger in their midst. Turtledove had to force herself not to shrink behind Knot, the only familiar figure and ally she had, instead locking her legs and concentrating on keeping her fur as flat as possible. A brown tabby tom and a pale gray queen approached, pelts brushing, faces neutral. Knot dipped his head respectfully to them as they came to a stop before the pair, Turtledove quick to copy him.

“Knot. Good to see you caught some prey. This a friend of yours?” The tom, Rocky, assumedly, did not seem bothered by her presence, but she wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Knot finally put the rats he was carrying down, giving Rocky a blinding smile.

“She is! Remember that hunter I told you about? Well, this is her. Rocky, this is, what was it, Turtle? Yes, Turtle, this is Rocky and his mate, Sapphire.” Excellent, but- oh stars, what do I say? Turtledove carefully put her prey down as well, giving another deferential nod, but said nothing, mind spinning.

“I remember. Seems you managed to swindle her into helping, hm?” Knot looked affronted, but Rocky ignored him, focusing his attention on Turtledove instead. “Why do you bring us prey?” She cleared her throat.

“I… recently became separated from my family. I don’t know if I can find them again, so I felt it best to find a group to join up with. I was told to look for Rocky and his colony, as they were recruiting new members. Then I ran into Knot, and well…” She shrugged, as if to say here I am. Rocky let out a considering hum.

“You heard correctly. I am looking to expand my territory, and I need more cats to do that. And if Knot’s report on your hunting is true-” he glanced down at the prey, “then I would be more than happy to have a cat like you join us. I would have to put you on probation, of course. I’m guessing that’s not an issue?” Turtledove was quick to shake her head. “Excellent. These are the terms of probation- for the next week, you will stay with Knot. He will lead you around the territory, see how you hunt, see how you fight. If he approves, we will start assigning you to territory patrols and such with the other members. Provided everyone gets along, and you meet our standards, we’ll be happy to welcome you into our group.” So like being an apprentice, essentially. I can do that.

“I can do that,” she mewed, trying to sound certain. Rocky nodded while Sapphire let out a purr.

“I like the confidence,” the queen said. “I do hope you pass, Turtle. I have a feeling you’ll fit in quite well here.” Turtledove wasn’t sure about that, but she wasn’t one to pass up a boon. She murmured her gratitude, gaze dropping to her feet.

“Knot,” Rocky said. “Show Turtle where she can sleep. Her probation starts this evening. I trust you know what to do.” Knot nodded happily, the leaders departing thereafter, heading back into the maze of boxes. The sky was really starting to lighten, and while they were talking it seemed cats had started retreating to their sleeping places, as only she and Knot were left standing in the open.

“Come on,” he said brightly. “I’ll show you where you can sleep. For now, you’ll have to stick by me, but later you’ll be allowed to move if you want. Not sure why you would, though.” Turtledove rolled her eyes, starting to feel her exhaustion as she trailed after the dark gray tabby. He led her about halfway up a stack of crates, stopping at one that had a busted open side. In it was a pile of blankets and other soft things. Thankfully it was roomy enough that if she curled up tightly in the corner, she wouldn’t have to touch Knot at all. The tom sprawled out in his bed, comfortable on his back as he stretched his legs in the air, tail swishing happily. Turtledove sneezed as it brushed past her nose. “Alright, Turtle, have a good sleep. The real fun starts tonight.”

“Can’t wait,” she murmured drily, eyes drifting shut as Knot chortled. She had a hard time in new nests, usually, and her experience in the Town so far had been miserable in trying to find a place to sleep. But now, she felt herself relaxing. Maybe it was because she finally felt safe- even though Knot was an almost complete stranger, he at least seemed uninterested in hurting her, and she knew for a fact no one would mess with him, which meant no one would mess with her. But honestly, she was so exhausted she could probably sleep in the middle of a road, at this point. Yes, it was good to finally get a break… Thoughts spinning lazily, she drifted off to sleep, Knot’s snores fading as she slipped away.

______________________________________________________________

“Alright Spook, pitter patter. Your probation starts now!” How on earth is he so chipper all the time. Turtledove felt a lot better as she blinked her gritty eyes open, although she was stiff from staying curled up so tightly while she slept. The calico stretched luxuriously, unable to help the way she kneaded the soft blankets. I gotta say, I wish we had these back home. Maybe I can bring one back with me… Her daydream of starting an underground operation smuggling blankets into the forest was interrupted by Knot dragging his tail across her nose, causing her to let out a tremendous sneeze. She shot him an annoyed glare, rubbing at her nose. “There she is. Your eyes were open, but you were still sleeping, hm? No time for that now. You have your worth to prove, after all.” The words were a little anxiety inducing, because oh stars, what if she didn’t? What if she tried her best but they had ridiculously high standards, and she didn’t make the cut, and they kicked her out, and-

Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted when she caught Knot lifting his tail again out of the corner of her eye. Turtledove batted it away with a hiss.

“Cut that out. I’m up and ready, alright? What are we doing first?” Knot purred.

“First, I’m going to take you to meet some friends. They like to spar and compete in other ways. I figured that would be a good way to test your skills. What about you? Do you even know how to fight?” Turtledove resented his critical gaze, clearly seeing that he didn’t have very high expectations. She huffed.

“Yes. Doesn’t everybody?” He just smiled.

“You’d be surprised.” With that, he turned and slipped out of the crate, Turtledove right on his heels. The base was bustling, now. Cats slipped in and out, a few hanging around. She caught a brief glimpse of Rocky speaking with an old gray tom, heard just a snippet of their conversation- yes, he’s being held over by the- before she had to duck through the hole in the fence, and once again was out in the alley. Knot started chatting away, seeming unbothered by her noncommittal hums and vague responses, leading her easily through the maze of streets. Turtledove was much more concerned with trying to memorize their route, connect it to the map in her head, pleased that she recognized a few of the buildings they passed from her wanderings. Eventually they came to an abandoned house, the windows broken and cracked, the lawn overgrown in a sad imitation of the forest. Knot took her into the house itself, and even though she knew there weren’t any humans there, her fur still pricked along her side. The tom cast her a curious look.

“Don’t like houses?” Turtledove gave a terse shake of her head.

“A human picked me up off the street and took me to their house. Once I got out, I had no idea where I was. Where my family was.” She paused dramatically. “So. No, I don’t like houses.” She felt a little bad when she caught Knot’s expression. It was the first time she had seen him not smiling.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He said solemnly. Uncomfortable, Turtledove just nodded, looking anywhere but her companion. After a moment, he cleared his throat, regaining his usual cheer. “Well, anyway, we just head up these stairs and we can see who’s around.” They creaked up the stairs together, Turtledove soon picking up the sound of cheers, murmurs, and yells. Down the hallway, to an open doorway, and she arrived at a makeshift sparring ring. Broken and scrapped furniture was pressed to the walls, about a dozen cats, mostly yearlings and a little older, lounging in pairs or groups. In the center of the room, in the clearest space, two mollies were sparring, good natured taunts and insults traded between them. The audience only added to the banter, shouting encouragement to their favorite or heckling their opponent. It was loud, and smelled weird, but there was an electricity to the air that had the warrior on her toes. This is like the Long Night Gathering, in a way. Knot led her to a group of toms, some of the rowdiest, all of whom seemed pleased to see him.

“Knot!” A ginger tom called, grin nearly blinding. “Where you’ve been, you dog? And who’s your friend?” This last question was a bit too leering for Turtledove’s taste. She gave the tom a glare, but he seemed to only smile wider. Yeah, I can see him and Knot being friends.

“This is Turtle, she’s on probation with my colony.” Knot said, breezing past the insinuating tone. “I brought her here to see how well she can do in a fight. Think you could beat some sense into these guys?” It took a beat to realize this question was directed at her. She gave the group a critical once over, then sniffed.

“I thought you said I was going to be challenged, Knot. Is this all you really have to offer?” There was a chorus of oohs from the toms, who began ribbing each other over the comment. Turtledove was just trying not to freak out. She was channeling her best imitation of a snooty Riverclanner and so far, it seemed to be working, but what if someone actually got offended?

“Fighting words! I like it,” Knot boomed, eyes slit in amusement. “Here, Turtle, why don’t you go next? See who wants to give you a challenge.” The idea of fighting while under the eye of a bunch of strange cats, especially cats her age, was about the most terrifying thing she could think of. She’d rather find herself face to face with Featherfall in a dark alley. But really, this was all for that goal- safety for her Clan, for Poppypaw, for the whole territory, really, so she searched deep down inside herself and tried to find some courage. Taking a slow, deep breath, she nodded. Knot gestured for her to settle in next to him, and she quietly watched the rest of the fight, not really paying attention as her mind spun. Okay, remember what Shadefur said, what you practiced, this is only a spar, Turtle, so don’t worry too much…

“And we have a winner! Mouse beats Sky!” The announcer crowed, leading the cheer for their champion. The two mollies gave each other friendly nods before returning to their respective friends, panting with exertion. “Alright, we’re ready for another round, aren’t we friends? Who wants to go next?”

“Turtle does!” She hadn’t even gotten a chance to blink before Knot was happily volunteering her. Stomach churning, she made her way over to the sparring ring. There were murmurs and shouts- wow, little thing huh? Who is she? I don’t know! Well, it’s the little ones you gotta watch out for- which she did her best to block out. The warrior came to a stop next to the announcer, a scrawny black and white tom, who gave her a friendly nod. Turtledove gave a shaky one in return.

“Alright, who else!”

“I’ll try!” Came a bold voice, and a young tom bounced down to the floor. He was young, younger than Turtledove, definitely, and seemed more confident than he should be. Probably doesn’t think I’m much of a threat. She relaxed a bit. I can do this at least.

“Okay, Snail, if you’re sure.” Turtledove squinted. Yes, she supposed the tom’s swirling stripes did resemble a snail shell. “Here’s the rules, you two. Claws stay sheathed. Biting is allowed, but if you draw blood, it’s over. First pinned for five seconds or whoever forfeits first loses. Alright?” The contestants nodded. “Okay then, on your mark, set… go!” The announcer sprung away, leaving Snail and Turtledove staring each other down. The warrior relaxed her shoulders, taking a loose stance. Her opponent eyed her critically, but his eyes were twinkling and his tail was twitching in excitement. He’ll make a mistake. Quickly, too, most like. The thought had barely crossed her mind when the tabby lunged, Turtledove easily sidestepping. Again, Snail tried to slam into her, and again she dodged. A boo rang out.

“Come on! Do something!” If Turtledove wanted to impress these cats, she obviously needed to put on a bit of a show. This time, when Snail once again threw himself clumsily toward her, she sprung straight into the air. She couldn’t help but smile as he stumbled, then looked up in confusion as she came back down, landing squarely on his back. The tabby collapsed with an oof. In what she could admit was showing off, Turtledove pulled him into a roll, using the movement to flip the tom and slam him on his back, on paw pressed lightly on his throat. He looked up at her in shock.

“Good enough for me!” The announcer called, stepping back up into the ring. “And in short order, Turtle is our winner! Good try, though, Snail.” The young tom seemed abashed, and Turtledove couldn’t help but feel badly for the way he was heckled as he returned to his friends. “Not much of a match for our new friend, I’m afraid. Anybody else want to try?” It really was too much to hope that that would be enough, huh? Turtledove tried to not let her anxiety rear its ugly head again.

“Yeah, I’ll have a go.” Another tom, a dark brown tabby, and as he approached Turtledove noticed his front paws were twisted outward, giving him an odd gait. If he’s confident enough to challenge me, he must have a work around. Or something to prove. Both of which made him dangerous, especially together. Turtledove braced herself for an actual fight this time.

“Alright Twist! Same rules apply, try not to hurt her too bad, alright?” Alright, that was not encouraging. But then again, they didn’t think she could fight, so maybe she’d be fine? Or maybe it wouldn’t matter, maybe this tom was that good, twisted paws be damned- “Begin!”

Turtledove barely ducked the blow, instinct kicking in as her opponent pressed her forward, swiping mercilessly and not giving her any time to recover. She ducked and bobbed, looking for an opening, trying to block out the sounds of cheers and heckling and Knot booming get ‘em, Spook! every three seconds. To the crowd, it may look like he had her on the run, but she was watching his every move, specifically how he balanced on his hind paws when he went to take some swipes at her. It must be uncomfortable to place weight on one twisted paw- he never did, always using his hind legs to balance, weight on one or the other to pivot, and landing on both forepaws simultaneously when he came down, lunging into her space immediately to keep her from retaliating. And yeah, she could fight dirty, and probably should, which meant she should do something to make him land on just one forepaw and then press the advantage, but that would probably hurt, right? And she didn’t want to actually hurt him, and besides, this would probably look a lot cooler anyway-

The next time Twist raised up to try and hit her, Turtledove crouched as far down as she could, launching herself across the dusty floor on her belly. The warrior crashed directly into one of his hind legs, the one not supporting as much weight, causing the tom to buckle. As he did, she pushed up, hard, digging her shoulders into his stomach, driving the wind out of him and sending him sprawling, on him a heartbeat later. He recovered a little faster than she expected, trying to lunge back up at her, but she planted both forepaws on his chest and shoved him back down. Small as she was, it was hard for him to snake his hind legs underneath her to kick her off, and the way she had him pinned didn’t give him a lot of leverage. Twist smacked at her, but his twisted paws and the lack of claws made it easy to absorb the blows, and as the crowd chanted five, four, three, two, one! Twist slumped to the floor in defeat. Turtle stepped off him immediately, breathing hard, and gave him a respectful nod.

“Good fight,” she rasped, and he nodded as well, something glittering in his eyes. The announcer stepped back up to them, an excited grin dancing across his face.

“And again, Turtle is victorious! Excellent work, both of you. I gotta say, tiny, that was pretty clever.” Turtledove nervously accepted the praise, happy to finally scoot back over to where Knot and his friends were. The toms clamored over each other, their cries of so cool! and I told you, the small ones- suddenly becoming overwhelming. Turtledove tried to hide how her anxiety suddenly ratcheted, gaze flicking between the group in front of her, and suddenly the dusty smell of the room was making her sick, the sounds piercing and grating, her breath starting to come quicker-

“Alright, you vultures, leave her alone! It’s time for us to go, anyway. Plenty of things to do!” And she never thought she would be grateful for Knot, but his impenetrable cheer formed a barrier between her and the others, the tom waving off their disappointment with ease and leading her out of the room, down the hallway, the stairs, then out of the house, into the cool night air, and Turtledove could finally breathe. She took in a ragged gasp. Knot started chatting to her like she wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown, guiding her out of the yard and down the sidewalk.

“Good job in there, Spook, Rocky will be happy to know you took down Twist. He’s- well, not part of our colony, but he is a member of an affiliate colony, and even though we work together there is a bit of a rivalry, there, you know? Anyway, you did good. Now we’re just gonna go see the boundaries, or, well, the approximate boundaries of our territory. There’s some dispute over the exact lines, of course, but there’s a point where you definitely don’t cross without pissing someone off-” The two young cats continued on, the warrior’s breath coming easier each passing moment, the tom never stopping his one-sided conversation, making their way down the street to their next destination, all the while unaware of the two shadows that trailed after them, watching their every move.

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#warriors ocs #warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #my writing #wc pyrophyte #wc fanfic

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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER FOUR

IN THE PINES

Emberpaw might be a menace, but she's also got a stubborn streak a mile wide and a temper to match. These might not be good things, necessarily, but they might just serve her well in the end. Poppypaw seems to think so, anyway.

It was a beautiful day in Shadowclan, and Emberpaw was getting bored. She was eating with her uncle- well. Mentor. Crowcall, however you wanted to call him. They had spent the afternoon hunting together, and now had some down time before they started night training with her brothers and their mentors. Their aunts. Briarmask and Batflight, whatever. It was peaceful, and quiet, Crowcall contentedly munching on a lizard, but Emberpaw was done with her food and now feeling restless. A thought struck her then, and she turned to Crowcall with a curious look.

“Uncle Crowcall, when are you and Auntie having kittens?” It was a fair question, in Emberpaw’s opinion, seeing as they had recently gotten bonded, and Mama always said that cats got bonded so that they could have babies- apparently, you couldn’t do one without the other. So why was Crowcall choking on his food?

“Emberpaw,” he wheezed, “remember our conversation about personal questions?”

“Yeah, of course I do, I do pay attention you know!” She immediately responded, feeling a bit defensive. I’m not Sparkpaw, stars’ sake. “You said it’s not polite to ask cats really personal questions, especially when they’re eating or sneaking or having a conversation with someone else.” Crowcall let out one last hack before stopping, fixing her with a narrowed gaze.

“And if you remember that, why would you ask me about having kittens when I’m eating?” Emberpaw was nonplussed.

“You’re not ‘cats.’ You’re my uncle. And my mentor. You don’t count.” Obviously. But Crowcall seemed unimpressed, and she couldn’t help the way her ears drooped, uncertainty sparking in her stomach. At her change in demeaner, the tom softened a bit, although he still let out a sigh.

“Alright, how about this- don’t ask anyone personal questions when they’re eating or anything else like that, including cats you think don’t count. It’s so you don’t surprise them, like you just surprised me.” Emberpaw nodded, perking back up, although internally that spark of uncertainty flared towards annoyance. Why not just say that the first time then?

“Well, that makes sense.” She paused, eyeing Crowcall carefully. He stared back at her. “So, anytime soon?” Crowcall let out another heavy sigh, but Emberpaw wasn’t one to let something like a sigh deter her, so she waited somewhat patiently for a response.

“Well, it’s not just something that you can just… make happen the moment you want it to,” he hedged, ear flicking. “Uh, babies… happen when the ancestors decide to send them to a couple. After they’re bonded. So, I don’t know, uh, when Briarmask and I will have kittens.” A bit unsatisfying, but also totally in line with what Mama said about the subject, so she just nodded. Crowcall seemed relieved. “Besides, we’re a little overrun with kittens right now. I think the ancestors will probably wait a little bit before they send us more.”

That was also probably true. While Emberpaw and her brothers had been out of the nursery for a moon now, it was more crowded than ever, as the Six were now almost ready to be apprenticed and Brooksong’s kits were getting bigger every day. Heck, Scratchkit was bigger than Tulipstem now- it was a miracle everyone still fit in the den.

“I suppose that does make sense,” Emberpaw hummed. “The Six will be in our den soon, though. Maybe the ancestors will give you kittens after that.” It was fun having so many friends her age around, and she wanted to keep a good thing going- especially for Lichen and Newt and Gray, who had never known a world where they weren’t surrounded by friends. They’ll get lonely with just themselves.

“Speaking of,” Crowcall said quickly, “we have some time still until the sun sets. Why don’t you go see your friends before we head out? I know I’ve been keeping you busy lately. It’s been a bit since you hung out.” Emberpaw felt it was more she was keeping him busy, but was kind enough to let him think what he wanted. Anyway, it had been a few days since she had been able to play with the others- it would be good to talk to Beekit. Emberpaw sprung up with a grin, giving Crowcall a nudge before bounding towards the nursery, the black tom shaking his head fondly after her. The Six were outside with their mother, playing after dinner. Tulipstem seemed to be dozing, but one ear was pricked, and Emberpaw knew they wouldn’t be able to get into any mischief with her on guard. Oh well, there were other things to do besides putting bugs in Sparkpaw’s nest. Beekit perked up when she saw the apprentice coming, bounding over to meet her, eyes crinkled in a happy smile.

“Hey, Ember, I thought you’d forgotten about me!” She chirped, and while Emberpaw would usually bristle at such a comment she knew Beekit never meant things in a mean way. The tortoiseshell purred, kneading the ground.

“No way! I’ve just been busy keeping Crowcall out of trouble. We’re gonna do some more training tonight, but I wanted to hang out before we go. What’s been happening?” Beekit’s smile grew a little more delighted, and she cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening before she leaned in, voice barely more than a whisper.

“You can’t tell anyone else, because I promised I wouldn’t tell, but you’re my best friend so you don’t count,” the little tabby whispered, and Emberpaw gave her a serious nod, leaning in closer as well. “Patchkit told me yesterday that he had a really weird dream, and when he told Mama and Papa about it they took him to Fernfire, and now…” Another furtive look. “He’s gonna be Fernfire’s apprentice! Can you believe it? Patch is gonna be a medicine cat!” Emberpaw’s eyes grew wide in wonder. Patch? Their little Patch, who was shy and scared of his own shadow, was their new star born?

“Wow,” the tortoiseshell breathed, “that’s so cool! When are they telling everyone?” Beekit shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she mewed, leaning back on her haunches. “He just said not to tell anyone, so probably not ‘til our ceremonies.”

“Papa is very dramatic like that,” Emberpaw agreed. “He probably wants to make it a surprise for everyone. It’s been a long time since Fernfire became a full medicine cat, so it’s about time he got an apprentice.” The two mollies continued their chat, now less centered on gossip and more about Emberpaw’s training and Beekit’s recent exploits, until the sun set and their respective guardians came to collect them. Tulipstem called Beekit in for bed just as Crowcall padded up to them, and Emberpaw bid her friend a fond farewell before turning expectantly to her mentor.

“We’re doing something a bit different tonight,” Crowcall said with a smile, and Emberpaw’s tail shot up in delight.

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, you three,” Briarmask said, nearly impossible to see in the dark of the forest, “we have a new challenge for you.” Emberpaw, Sunpaw, and Sparkpaw, along with their mentors, were gathered in a cluster of pines on the north side of the territory, close to where the trees thinned and the swamp took over. “We’ve been focusing on how to sneak around and the different environments you’ll have to navigate. Tonight, we three-” here, she gestured at herself and the other mentors, “will be traveling to different spots on the territory. Your jobs will be to track and find your mentor while remaining undetected.”

“We’ve recruited a few other warriors to try and find you,” Batflight said, fangs catching the faint starlight. “But you won’t know who they are unless they catch you, so you’ll have to really be on the lookout. If you get caught, you lose, but if you find us before you’re found, you win.”

“Winners get first pick of dinner tomorrow night,” Crowcall said, “losers get last pick. And honestly, don’t worry if you get caught tonight. This is only the first time we’ll be doing something like this, and it’s mostly just to see how quickly you’re picking things up, and see what areas we need to focus on, alright?” Briarmask coughed out something like softie, which had Crowcall rolling his eyes. That’s all well and good, but I don’t need to worry, ‘cause I’m gonna win. Emberpaw had an advantage over her brothers, with her dark mottled pelt and lithe frame- she’d be a lot harder to see, especially with the new moon offering no help to their pursuers. Sparkpaw and Sunpaw, with their bright orange pelts and bulkier builds, would have a much harder time of it.

“Alright, you three ready?” Briarmask asked, and all three siblings nodded seriously, expressions ranging from excited to nervous. “Close your eyes then, and count aloud slowly to thirty. And I mean slowly, Sparkpaw, no cheating,” she warned, and the orange tom gave her a cheeky nod.

“Of course, Auntie, you can trust me!” He chirped, and Briarmask narrowed her eyes.

“Sunpaw, you do the counting, Emberpaw and Sparkpaw, you listen to your brother,” she said, and then spoke over the apprentice’s complaints. “Alright, get ready, and… begin!” The world went completely dark as Emberpaw obeyed the command, and she strained to listen to the mentors walk away as Sunpaw began counting. He seemed to enjoy torturing his brother and sister, as he counted so slowly that by the time he said thirty, Emberpaw felt like ants were crawling through her fur.

“Finally, Sunny!” Sparkpaw whined, springing to his feet. “Alright, let’s go!”

The three mentors had stayed together for a bit, and so the siblings did as well, until they came to the very edge of the trees. The apprentices took a minute to detangle the scents, but then each found their mentor- Batflight had curved back around deeper into the trees, Briarmask had veered off towards the Dump, and Crowcall had headed straight into the swamp. Ugh, he knows I hate the mud. Wishing her brothers luck, Emberpaw slunk into the tall grass, remembering abruptly that oh yeah, someone would be following her, and she needed to be careful. Immediately she pressed herself almost all the way to the ground, making sure her belly fur didn’t drag an obvious trail through the damp soil. The apprentice tried to stick to the driest and darkest areas she could find, wholly focused on following Crowcall’s scent, until a little blip of color in the corner of her eye caught her attention. When she turned to look, she saw a little red flower peeping between the grasses off to her right. Like a flash, she remembered the first Gathering she had been to, and the medicine cat that had spoken to her.

Honestly, the interaction had slipped her mind like smoke upon her return home, and she had never brought it up to anyone, too concerned with her impending apprentice ceremony and then her training to remember. But now the memory hit her full force, clear as if it had just happened. The first spring blooms. Find me in the pines. Like a moth to a flame, Emberpaw carefully walked over to the flower, spotting another one some distance away. An undeniable urge to follow overcame her, and, abandoning her task, she began searching out the trail of flowers. They lead her away from the marsh, back into the forest, until she came to a hollowed-out stump absolutely covered in them. And there, atop of it, blinking into existence like a twinkling star, was Poppypaw.

“Hello, Emberpaw,” she grinned, “it’s so good to see you again.” Emberpaw blinked in astonishment at her sudden appearance, unable to understand. Not even the best Shadowclan warriors can appear from thin air, even if it looks like it. So how…? Unless-

“You’re a ghost,” she heard herself saying, and Poppypaw’s grin only widened. “How- only medicine cats can see ghosts-”

“Ah, the ancestors can bless anyone of their choosing,” Poppypaw gently interrupted, “and they have decided to give this gift to you. Which is very good news, because I need the help of someone who can see the spirits of those passed.” She wasn’t smiling anymore. “I am blocked from entering Starclan, Emberpaw, because my death was not planned. Until my murderer is brought to justice, I am stuck here.” Realization struck like lightning.

“You’re the one they’re always talking about!” Emberpaw gasped. “Why the spies went into the Town, and those cats who attacked Spark and Fernfire- that’s about you, right?” Poppypaw nodded somberly.

“Indeed, I am the one in question. I cannot express how grateful I am, that all the Clans seek to help me go home. But there are things they don’t know, and can’t know, without the help of the spirits and those who can see them. Which is where you come in, Emberpaw. I need you to help me communicate with the Clans. I need you to seek out the spirits in the Town, and enlist their aid as well. The Clans cannot succeed without our help, and we can’t help them without you.” This was… a lot. Emberpaw was the only one who could speak to the ghosts? Ghosts, plural, because apparently there were ghosts in the Town she needed to talk to?

“I… we’re not allowed in the Town right now,” she hedged, ears flicking uncertainly. “Dad says it’s too dangerous, that we have to wait until they find that cat. The one who…”

“I hate to ask this of you,” Poppypaw mewed, “but I feel I have no choice. You have to go to the Town, Emberpaw, whether you’re allowed to or not. I know it’s dangerous, and that you could get in trouble for it, but please, will you help me? Not only my fate, but the fates of many others depend on it.” Well, what could she say to that? A little flare of determination and excitement flickered to life in her chest, then, and Emberpaw tried to imitate her father’s confident grin.

“Getting in trouble has never stopped me,” she boasted, “and besides, if I’m the only one who can help, then that settles things, right? Dad and everyone can’t get mad at me for doing what the ancestors say.” She paused, cocking her head to give Poppypaw a considering look. “Although, are you actually anybody’s ancestor?” Poppypaw just laughed.

“Thank you for your help, Emberpaw,” the other tortoiseshell said, and then all of a sudden her smile dropped and she looked… regretful? “And remember the other thing I said- you can survive the coming fire. I promise. I believe in you.” And then she was gone, and Emberpaw was left to stare at a stump covered in wilting red flowers. I’m really not a fan of her dropping ominous warnings and then disappearing, she grumbled to herself, rising to her feet. And I should probably go try to find Crowcall before…

Too late. She could just hear distant cries of her name, and tried to come up with an excuse as she started off towards the noise. Her thoughts ground to a halt, though, as she drew closer and realized that Crowcall didn’t sound upset, he sounded… frantic? And wait, was that blood she smelled? She took off at a sprint, now calling out herself.

“Uncle! Uncle, I’m right here!” Bursting through some scrub, she almost knocked straight into Crowcall, who seemed to sag with relief at the sight of her.

“Thank the stars,” he gasped, and she could only stare at the scratches on his face, the ruffled fur, the smell of blood and something more acrid, almost but not quite familiar. “Are you hurt? Did you run into anyone else?”

“No, no, I’m not hurt, I didn’t- what happened?” She pressed, nearly vibrating with anxiety. “Who hurt you?”

“An ambush.” He said, but he wasn’t calming down. If anything, he was starting to get worked back up, fur prickling, and he began pushing her towards camp. “We need to get back home, now.”

“What about the others?” She demanded as she stumbled along, concern for her brothers and aunts suddenly racing through her. “Where are they, are they alright?” Crowcall’s eyes became pained.

“Batflight and Sunpaw are fine,” he said, and her stomach dropped because what about- “Briarmask and Sparkpaw were attacked, I found them when I came looking for you. Briar- she’s-” he choked a bit, and now Emberpaw felt numb, she’s what, she’s what- “Hurt. Badly. They were bringing her back to camp-”

“Where’s my brother.” Emberpaw blurted out, stopping dead in her tracks, shaking so hard now she bit her tongue. The taste of blood, the smell of it, made her feel sick- “Where’s Sparkpaw?” Crowcall stopped to look at her, copper eyes bright with pain and fear and worry.

“They took him. He’s gone.”

Emberpaw was numb. Anything she tried to say lodged in her throat like bones, and so she raced back to camp in silence, Crowcall only growing more upset the closer they got. They burst through the thorns together, Emberpaw not even flinching as one caught on her ear in their haste. Her parents were in the clearing, a shaking Sunpaw pressed into their mother’s side, Batflight murmuring to him quietly. Lizardspots was trying to calm a raging Rosestar, who spit and snarled and paced like a tiger from the elder’s stories.

“I want every available warrior out there, right now!” He was hissing, “They need to find them-” Emberpaw finally found her voice.

“Papa!” She wailed, racing towards her father, and he whipped around to face her, blue eyes bright with tears.

“Praise the ancestors,” he gasped, wrapping a paw around the tortoiseshell as she crashed into him. “Thank you, stars above, Ember, we thought you were gone too-” Pinenose shuffled Sunpaw forward so they could crowd together, and the press of her family only made her feel worse, because Sparkpaw should be there, but he was gone gone gone-

“We have to find him,” she said desperately. “We- they can’t, Papa, they can’t just take him!”

“I will find him if I have to burn the whole Town down, Ember, I promise you that.” Rosestar swore, and then all of a sudden, he had that look, the one where he wasn’t just her father, he was the leader of Shadowclan. It came over him like a wave, his expression now set, his fur flattening, and he threw back his head with a howl.

“Batflight, Blackear, Spidershade, Browntail, Loudstorm, Frogthroat, Marshfoot- you all are coming with me. Batflight, show us where the attack happened. We’ll go from there.” The assembled warriors nodded seriously, Batflight trying to school her devastated expression. “Piketail, Shadefur, Bluebird, and Snakepelt, guard the camp. Beetlewhisker, I want you with Fernfire. The rest of you, stay alert. Keep the queens and kits in the nursery. Lizardspots, you’re in charge while we’re gone.” He then pressed his nose to Pinenose’s forehead, and they sat there for a moment, eyes closed, before he pulled away, lip curling once more. “Warriors! To me!” And with a final nudge to his children, Rosestar led his warriors out of the camp and into the night, his family staring after him.

“It’s alright, darlings,” Pinenose soothed the apprentices, although her voice was choked. “Your father will bring Sparkpaw home. If they were going to hurt him, they would have. They took him alive for a reason.” Emberpaw didn’t know if she was trying to convince them or herself, but it did make her feel a bit better. Mama is right- Sparkpaw is at least alive. And Papa won’t let them get away with this. But… Pulling back from her mother, she looked up at her in concern.

“Where’s Auntie Briar?” Emberpaw whispered, afraid of the answer. “Is she alright?” Pinenose looked at her with somber eyes.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Fernfire sent Webheart to get Snowdrift. Said he needed the extra paws. We will just have to pray that the ancestors will be kind to us.” Emberpaw swallowed hard. He sent for help? It must be bad. “Come. We can wait outside the medicine den for him to tell us what’s happening.” The apprentices trailed after their mother, Emberpaw now focusing her concern on Sunpaw, whose eyes were wide and staring.

“Sunny?” She whispered, nudging his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I saw them take him,” he whispered, gaze still fixed on nothing. “Shadefur caught me before I got very far. Me and him and Batflight were going to meet up with Auntie and Spark when we heard the screaming.” Emberpaw shuddered, Sunpaw just stared. “There were at least six cats. Auntie was fighting three of them- the others were dragging Spark away. He was yelling something awful. Uncle showed up then, and they ran when they saw us coming, Shadefur said there were too many of them, that we had to help Auntie, I think she was dying-“ He clammed up after that, tears now starting to roll down his face, and all Emberpaw knew to do was press up against him and purr as hard as she could. Oh stars, why is this happening? They joined their mother in front of Fernfire’s den, and a moment later there was movement from the entrance. It was Crowcall, staggering towards them, and Emberpaw immediately leapt to her feet and hurried to his side. She let him lean on her as he sank to the ground, trembling.

“Is she alright?” She couldn’t help but press. “Is she-”

“She’s alive,” Crowcall croaked. “Besides that, I don’t know.” Emberpaw fell silent, not knowing what to say. She just put her chin on Crowcall’s head and purred like she did for Sunpaw. Her brother slunk over a moment later, closely followed by Pinenose, and soon they were all huddled together, seeking and giving what comfort they could. It felt like an eternity later when there was rustling at the entrance and a bright white blur pushed through. Snowdrift is finally here. He was carrying a large bundle, odd eyes determined, and he barely spared them all a glance as he swept into the den. Emberpaw pressed further into Crowcall’s side.

Now all we can do is wait.

______________________________________________________________

The sun rose before they had their answer about Briarmask. Rosestar had yet to return.

“She’s not out of the woods,” an exhausted Fernfire had said, ears and eyes drooping. “She lost a lot of blood. Right now, we have to wait and see if she wakes up. After that, we have to watch for infection. If she can survive the next few days, though, I think she’ll make it.” If she wakes up? You think she’ll make it? Emberpaw wanted to scream, to sink her claws into the cats who did this, who took her brother and might be the reason that Auntie-

“Emberpaw,” Sunpaw whispered, “you’re scaring me.” Too late, she realized her fur was bristling and her lips were pulled back in a silent snarl. Immediately she tried to relax, giving her brother an apologetic nudge.

“I’m sorry, Sunny,” she murmured. “I’m just… angry.” It was just the two of them together, now. Their mother had gone to speak to Lizardspots. Crowcall had been allowed into the medicine den. Snowdrift had left, escorted by Webheart and Piketail. And the sun was above the horizon now, and Rosestar still wasn’t home. Emberpaw wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Do you want anything to eat?” She tried. Sunpaw loved eating, it was his favorite activity, always saying the sun is round, so I need to be too, but now he just silently shook his head. Emberpaw was stumped, and so she just sat there, unsure of what to do.

“Do you think they’ll find him?” Sunpaw whispered. “The Town’s so big, and if these are the rogues that evil cat is in charge of…” Emberpaw scowled.

“Don’t talk like that,” she snapped. “Of course they’ll find him. Papa promised. And Sparkpaw’s smart, he probably got away from them, and…” Emberpaw felt bad about snapping, because Sunpaw was crying now, paws over his face, and her stomach tightened with guilt. “I, I’m sorry, Sunny, I didn’t mean-”

There was movement at the entrance, and both apprentices bolted up, focused desperately on who was coming through. Did they-? But it was only Rosestar, dejected, covered in mud, blue eyes dull, the other warriors trailing after him with dragging tails, defeat clinging to the group like the muck in their fur. Emberpaw thought her heart was going to stop. She went to move forward, but her mother beat her to it, Pinenose loping across the clearing to Rosestar, heartbreak lurking in the corners of her eyes.

“Rosey,” she said, and even though her voice was little more than a whisper it rang through the silent clearing. “Is he-?”

“We couldn’t find them,” Rosestar rasped, and he spit the words like poison. “They disappeared into the Town, further than we’ve ever gone. No one would help us. No one saw anything.” That rage was building back up inside Emberpaw’s chest, her skin feeling too tight, because how dare they, how dare they take him, how dare they refuse to help, how dare they-

Now she didn’t care if she was scaring Sunpaw, she let out a furious hiss, stubbornly blinking away the tears prickling her eyes. Rosestar looked up at the noise, and Emberpaw couldn’t stand the pain in them.

“Emberpaw-”

“We have to find him,” she snarled, hating the way they all were looking at her now, a mixture of pity and pain, “I- I don’t care, I’ll find him myself if I have to-”

“Emberpaw,” and Rosestar was serious now, expression firm enough that Emberpaw’s fury stumbled, “you are forbidden from leaving this camp alone. We don’t know if this was targeted, if they took Sparkpaw to get to me. They could go after you and Sunpaw now.” Instead of cooling her rage, that only enflamed it.

“I don’t care if they come after me, Spark is my brother! He’s- Spark and Sunny, they’re-” Now, Emberpaw didn’t really talk about the fact that she and her brothers were adopted. None of them did. They had heard the story, of course, of how Auntie Briar and Auntie Nettle saved them, brought them to the Clan, how Auntie Nettle died fighting the rats to give them a chance. And Sparkpaw and Sunpaw, they had been fine with just what they had been told. They were happy in Shadowclan with their parents and their friends, and while they all felt the weight of Nettleclaw’s sacrifice, they didn’t think much of how they had come to the Clan. But Emberpaw… she couldn’t help but wonder. She loved her parents, of course, was so happy to have them and be loved by them, but what about her natural parents? A human had brought them to the Dump, not a cat. Did their natural parents want them? Were they sad they had been taken away? And they had been taken away, right? What if it happened again? And it had, look, Sparkpaw had just been taken away, and Emberpaw couldn’t stand it, she wouldn’t let them take her brother, one of the two cats she had always had, the ones she always thought she would have, she wouldn’t let them, she couldn’t let them-

“It’s okay, Emberpaw, just breathe,” someone very far away was saying, and Emberpaw realized she was hyperventilating, the sudden realization jolting her into a panic, because she couldn’t breathe, her chest so tight she felt like she was being crushed. “Come on, now, deep breath in. Feel how I do it, alright? Deep breath.” Someone was pressed against her side, and she could feel the way they took a deep, steady breath, and she did her best to imitate it. It took a few tries, but she managed something more than a shallow gasp, her chest loosening a bit. “There we go, froglet, now another. Good work.” Slowly, with every breath, she came back to herself. She was shaking, her worried parents and Sunpaw nearby, and Fernfire was pressed up against her, helping her calm down. “Alright, there we go. Feeling better?” Emberpaw managed a shaky nod, although she couldn’t speak yet. “You’re okay, Emberpaw. You just need to relax.” And how am I supposed to do that? My brother is missing, she wanted to snap, but that wouldn’t help anything now. And besides, she was too tired to even speak. The apprentice just slumped forward, exhausted, and Fernfire let out a sigh. “You and Sunpaw need to get some sleep. Go to your nests, I’ll bring you some poppy seeds.”

Slowly, Sunpaw came over to Emberpaw’s side, helping her stumble to her feet. Together they made their way over to their den, halting outside of it. It smells like Sparkpaw. Emberpaw felt sick.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Sunpaw whispered, and Emberpaw was all too happy to agree. Casting her gaze around, she caught sight of the nursery, and the familiarity and comfort of the thorn bush called out to her in a way she couldn’t ignore. Wordlessly, she nudged Sunpaw towards it, and he went without protest. Together, they slid through the narrow entrance, a worried Tulipstem and Brooksong greeting them in soft tones.

“Do you mind if we stay here?” Emberpaw asked in a small voice. The queens shook their heads, their friends staring at them with wide eyes. The apprentices made their way to their old nest in the corner, now crowded with Mumblekit, Patchkit, and Beekit, the kittens shuffling over to make room for them. Emberpaw and Sunpaw curled up together tightly, joined one after another by their friends, until there were so many others pressed up against her that Emberpaw could almost ignore the fact that Sparkpaw wasn’t there. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, she let the exhaustion wash over her, and soon after, she was asleep.

______________________________________________________________

“Emberpaw.” A whisper. “Ember, wake up.” A pointed prod in the ribs. But Emberpaw didn’t want to wake up. Waking up meant that Sparkpaw wasn’t there, and everything was a mess, and… A sharp prick of a claw now, and that all too familiar anger flared up. Lifting her head, Emberpaw turned her narrowed glare on Patchkit, the little tom wilting but standing his ground. “You need to get up,” he insisted in a whisper, and reality started sinking in. It was dark. Emberpaw was in the nursery, but it seemed she had rolled away from the others, now by herself up against the woven wall of the den. Patchkit was standing over her, ears flicking nervously. “Poppypaw told me to get you.” Now that got her attention.

“Poppypaw told you?” She hissed quietly. “You can see her too?” Patchkit shook his head.

“Not, not really, I just had a dream. There was a molly, she said her name was Poppypaw, and that I needed to tell you to wake up and go to her. She’s at the stump.” Patchkit’s dark blue eyes were wide with worry. “Emberpaw, what is going on?”

“If you help me sneak out, and you promise not to tell anybody about this, I’ll tell you everything.” She said quickly, carefully rising to her feet. “I mean nobody, Patchkit. Not Beekit, not your mom, nobody. You have to swear.” Patchkit hesitated for a moment before nodding, turning his cheek to Poppypaw with a solemn look. Understanding, Emberpaw reached forward, delicately grabbed one white whisker between her teeth, and pulled with a swift yank. To his credit Patchkit was silent, although he flinched. Emberpaw then turned her own cheek, wincing as Patchkit pulled one of her whiskers out as well. Laying them on the ground together, both young cats placed a paw on top of them.

“I swear that I won’t tell anyone about this,” Patchkit whispered solemnly. “May all my whiskers fall out if I do.”

“I swear I’ll tell you about everything,” Emberpaw returned. “May all my whiskers fall out if I don’t.” Pact made, Patchkit looked nervously around the den before leading her to the very back of it. Moving some old bedding out of the way, he pointed at a shallow hole that led under the thorns.

“It’s an escape tunnel,” Patchkit whispered. “We had one in the Town, in our den there. Mama told the other queens about that when we moved here, and Rosestar thought it was a good idea. It’s supposed to be a secret, though. It leads out into the log pile around camp. From there, you can wiggle your way outside. You’re small enough that you should still fit.” His eyes were once again gleaming with worry. “Please be careful, Ember, we can’t lose you too.” Emberpaw gave him a comforting lick, trying to muster a smile.

“Don’t worry, Patch, I’ll be back soon. I’ll come back through the dirt place, so if anyone wakes up and asks where I am, just tell them I went there, okay? I’ll worry about the rest.” The little gray and white tom nodded. Emberpaw took a deep breath, then carefully worked her way through the hole and out the other side, wincing as the thorn bush scraped against her back. From there, she navigated her way through the cluster of logs, and soon she was on the other side, on the very edges of the camp boundary. She froze, ears pricked, mouth open, scenting for anyone or anything. It was quiet, nothing sticking out, so she cast a careful look around-

There.

A small red bloom, winking at her from the base of a pine. Steeling herself, Emberpaw slunk forward into the night. The blooms led her along just like the first time, winding through the territory back to the stump from the night before, the flowers once again vibrant and alive. Poppypaw was already there, staring out into the darkness towards the Town.

“Did you know?” Emberpaw blurted, meeting Poppypaw’s solemn gaze with a glare. “Did you know they were taking Sparkpaw while we were talking?” The spirit shook her head.

“No, I just had a bad feeling. I’m not…” And for the first time, the medicine cat seemed frustrated. “I don’t have the same power that Starclan has. It’s more like what I felt as a medicine cat when I was alive. I get feelings, I can interpret signs… but no, I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen. I just know that there are difficult times ahead, but, well. I guess you don’t need to be in Starclan to see that.” Poppypaw shook her head. “Anyway, when I left, I went to see if I could find any Town ghosts. I can’t leave Clan territory, you see, but I can get to the border of Town. I was hoping some spirit from there might come by. But I saw those cats with Sparkpaw- he was alive, and didn’t look too hurt, just a few scratches.” Emberpaw could have fallen over, she was so relieved. Mama was right. “And I tried to guide your father and the search party to where they crossed, but I wasn’t very successful. They went in at a different point, and I think that’s why they had a hard time following the trail. If we can make contact with the Town ghosts, they can help us find Sparkpaw and Featherfall. I know the Clans sent spies into the Town, but what better spy than a spirit that only you can see?” Emberpaw was getting excited, but then she remembered what her father had said, that none of the Town cats had helped them.

“Why would the Town ghosts help us?” Emberpaw asked, bitterness coloring her tone. “Papa said they wouldn’t help him find Sparkpaw. Why would dead Town cats be any different?” Poppypaw hesitated for a moment, before her brow furrowed in determination.

“I met a good Town ghost,” she insisted. “Her name was Dolly. She was looking for the spirits of her babies- Town cats don’t go to Starclan when they die, of course. And with no one to pray for them, or lead them into the next life, a lot of them linger. Anyway, Dolly told me she had been friends with Shadowclan in life. If we can find her, I’m sure she would be a friend to us now as well.” Well… alright. If this would save Sparkpaw, and help Poppypaw, then she would do whatever it took to find Dolly.

“So I need to find Dolly, then? What does she look like?”

“She’s a calico with really long fur, but her face is flat. Hopefully, she’ll be accompanied by a pair of kittens. She said she was looking for her son and daughter, Flurry and Sweet Pea. A group like that should definitely stick out.” Emberpaw nodded seriously, taking a deep, steadying breath before turning towards the Town.

“Alright,” she said firmly, “wish me luck.” Poppypaw blinked.

“Where are you going?” Emberpaw gave her a disbelieving look.

“The Town? To find Dolly?”

“You can’t go to the Town now,” Poppypaw scolded. “Emberpaw, I need your help, but I don’t want you to get kidnapped or killed. They just took Sparkpaw- that changes things. We need to be a lot more careful about this than I thought.” Emberpaw rolled her eyes.

“Why’d you drag me out here in the middle of the night and tell me all this, then, if I’m not supposed to go find out?” Poppypaw scowled.

“Because I can’t talk to you in your camp. It’s weird, but there are certain places in the territories I can’t go- even being on another Clan’s territory is difficult. It’s like my spirit knows I’m not supposed to be here. But you can’t come to Windclan territory, so we have to compromise. When you need to talk to me, try to find me here. If I need to talk to you, I’ll just try to find you wherever you are, deal?” Emberpaw was now under the distinct impression that Poppypaw was not the awe-inspiring messenger of the ancestor’s she previously believed her to be, but there wasn’t much to do about it now. She nodded, a little put out.

“Alright, I guess I’ll just… go back to camp then. But I need to get into the Town, sooner rather than later.” Poppypaw nodded in return.

“Try to find a way in that doesn’t put your life at risk. And in the meanwhile, I’ll try to find Dolly on the border, or another ghost willing to help. Deal?”

“Deal.” Poppypaw gave her one last smile before once again disappearing, leaving Emberpaw alone in the silent forest. Don’t worry Spark, she thought determinedly, resolutely nodding towards the Town. I’ll find you, and I’ll help you get home.

I promise.

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#warriors ocs #warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #my writing #wc pyrophyte #wc fanfic

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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER THREE

A NEW COAT

The time has come for our spies to begin their work. Can Littlesong, or, sorry, Dandelion handle the task he's been given?

Chapter Text

“Hey Mr. Dandelion, time to get up!” Littlesong was dying. Really, he was. These Shadowclan cats had him up before the sun rose every morning, training either mentally or physically from dawn to dusk, and often had him out in the middle of the night learning how to operate under the cover of darkness. He had caught sight of his reflection in one of the many puddles that littered the marsh after training one afternoon and had been horrified at how thin his face looked. I’m losing too much weight, he had bemoaned to Piketail. I’m going to look like an elder! His old mentor had merely laughed, the traitor, and told him it was good for his character. His mind had clearly been poisoned from spending too much time with the scrawny Shadowclanners. “Mr. Dandelion, it’s already dawn, and Crowcall and Auntie say they’ve been waiting for you forever. They told me I can jump on you if you don’t get up!” Littlesong still couldn’t bring himself to move, curling up further into his nest. She weighs as much as a feather, he desperately thought, who cares if she jumps on me-

What he didn’t anticipate was the apprentice landing directly on his side and somehow managing to get all four little paws right between his ribs. Littlesong let out a startled and slightly pained yowl, sitting up so fast Emberpaw went tumbling.

“Alright, alright already! I’m up!” The tortoiseshell was glaring at him something fierce from where she lay sprawled on some nests, a feather on her forehead detracting from an otherwise intimidating scowl. She’s scary for a tadpole. She pushed herself to her feet, tail lashing.

“You need to be more careful!” She scolded, and he could only stare at her, incredulous. “You could have killed me!” Oh, I might now.

“Are you serious?” He said, barely managing to reign in a growl. “You jumped on me!”

“I told you I was going to! If you weren’t so lazy, I wouldn’t have done it!”

“Lazy? It’s literally dawn-”

“Right, and you were supposed to be up an hour ago-”

“Were you raised in a-”

“Arguing with an apprentice, Littlesong?” And oh, he hadn’t missed that tone. He sheepishly looked up to see an unimpressed Piketail crouching in the den entrance, single amber eye somehow bright in the darkness. “Aren’t you a warrior now?” The warrior in question scrambled to his feet, shaking the moss from his coat and ignoring Emberpaw’s indignant hey! as some flew in her face. She deserved it, the disrespectful scrap.

“Well, uh-”

“He knocked me over!” Emberpaw accused, burning with a righteous indignation. “I told him I was allowed to jump on him, but nobody said he was allowed to push me!” Littlesong’s mouth dropped open.

“I did not-”

“Well, Emberpaw, there can be unforeseen consequences to our actions,” Piketail interrupted gently. “Now you know that next time you jump on somebody, you have to be prepared for them to react. I’m sure Littlesong didn’t mean to push you on purpose,” a pointed look, which prompted the warrior to nod hastily, “and accidents happen. Can you forgive him?” Littlesong didn’t really think there was anything to be forgiven for, but Emberpaw seemed placated. She deigned to nod with an imperious sniff before scurrying out of the den. An amused Piketail lifted a leg to let her squeeze by, shaking his head fondly.

“Emberpaw means well,” he began. Littlesong snorted.

“She’s a terror.”

“Those things are not mutually exclusive.” Piketail grinned. “Now come on, she was right about you being late. Crowcall and Briarmask are ready for you- got something new today.” Littlesong groaned. Not encouraging. He forced himself to his feet, slogging out after Piketail. His lip curled in disgust as his foot immediately sunk into the soggy soil of the clearing.

Littlesong was sick of the mud.

The poor tom was more brown than yellow these days, constantly trying to shake the muck from his dense coat and from between his webbed toes. You would think the almost waterproof pelt of a Riverclanner would offer some protection against the damp and mire of Shadowclan territory, but alas, the clumps and drips of mud just clung like soggy burrs and allowed the wet to seep down to his skin. His paws squelched as they crossed the clearing to where his ‘mentors’ were sitting together, leaned in close together and whispering. They did that a lot, which Littlesong sometimes found rude, but apparently they had been recently bonded, so he could forgive them for it. New bonds are worse than courting cats, everyone knows that. They straightened up as Piketail and Littlesong approached, giving both toms friendly nods.

“We have a present for you, Littlesong!” Briarmask said cheerily, but the yellow tom was instantly on guard. She looked too excited. “And it took us forever to find it for you, so don’t go messing it up.” She looked to Crowcall, who dramatically swept his tail to the side, revealing the object he had been hiding. “Ta da!”

It was a collar.

A green collar, with a little golden bell, sitting carefully on a pile of moss and leaves which kept it free of mud. Littlesong could feel it choking him just looking at it.

“A collar?”

“Quite the smarty, you are,” Crowcall said pleasantly, ignoring Piketail’s deadpan look. “We found a kittypet a ways away, about your size, and convinced him to give us his collar.” At Littlesong’s alarmed expression, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, we didn’t hurt him. We brought him a rabbit to eat, and that was enough for him. Here, try it on.” Littlesong wouldn’t lie, he wasn’t excited about doing this, but he honestly didn’t know how to get that thing over his head.

“Er, how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“Here,” Piketail said, stepping forward. “Let me help.” He picked the collar up with his teeth, holding it out so Littlesong could shove his head through. It took a minute, but they got it over his head without too much trouble, and now it was sitting uncomfortably around his neck. He reached up a paw to bat at the bell, but stopped when Briarmask cleared her throat.

“You can’t get it dirty, that’ll stand out too much.” She explained. “We needed to make sure it fit. Good thing it does- this was the last thing we needed before you two go in. I think you’re ready.” Dread swirled in the yellow tom’s stomach. To be completely honest, he wasn’t even sure why he was here. Sure, Oakstar had given his reasoning- you’re a fabulous actor, my boy, and under Piketail’s tutelage you have developed quite the reconnaissance ability- but really, there were plenty of others who fit that bill as well. Part of him suspected it was more that he looked the part of a kittypet, with his puffy yellow fur and decent amount of chub, more than anything else. Which really wasn’t a proper qualification, if he were being honest. And who was this ‘contact’ he was staying with, anyway? Nobody had told him anything about it, yet, saying it was a secret for a reason.

“Do I need to keep it on, then?” He asked, and he couldn’t keep the reluctance out of his tone. The Shadowclanners, Piketail included, looked amused.

“We’re going to give you a break and take it off you for the trip over. We don’t want you getting it dirty, after all.” He would take their snickering if it meant he didn’t have to wear the blasted collar for longer than absolutely necessary. He held still as Piketail pulled it back off him, replacing it carefully into its bed of moss. Crowcall then wrapped it tightly into a moss ball, which he placed one protective paw on.

“Alright, Turtledove should be back soon- she was out night hunting with Shade. When she’s here you’ll both get something to eat and we’ll go over the final plan, then it’s off to the Town.” Littlesong nodded gloomily, and Piketail gave him a supportive nudge.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go hang out before you have to leave.” The dark gray tom led him up the log pile to a quiet, and thankfully dry, spot that overlooked the camp. Littlesong had to admit the swamp had its own sort of beauty- the dawn light was starting to catch on the fog the drifted in the corners of camp, illuminating the pine needles into a brilliant emerald color. Sort of like the color of the collar. His mood instantly soured. “I can see you’re not exactly thrilled about this.” Littlesong couldn’t help a sigh.

“To be honest, I’m really not. I’m not cut out for this sort of thing.” He said, feeling relieved he could talk to Piketail about his reluctance. “I mean, why me? Everyone else makes sense, but I feel… superfluous, almost.” Piketail hummed.

“Everyone was chosen to participate for a reason,” he said, and at Littlesong’s disbelieving look he smiled. “Listen, if anyone is the superfluous one, it’s poor Gorsestorm. Shalestar is just chomping at the bit to be involved, and she knew she couldn’t send one of her warriors into the Town. They would be completely lost. It’s a miracle Gorsestorm lasted as long as he did in there.” True. Of anyone, Windclan had the least amount of contact with the Town and twolegs, or, humans, rather. They were almost universally afraid of them- plus, they were so different from the Town cats both in looks and culture that they stuck out like cardinals in the snow. “It would make a lot more sense to have a Shadowclanner or even a Thunderclanner be the main point of contact, but the other leaders didn’t want Shalestar left without something to do. She’d drive everyone crazy.” And Littlesong couldn’t help but laugh at that, although he didn’t feel much better. He let out another sigh.

“I just… don’t really want to be doing this. I don’t feel like I’m a good choice. But Oakstar asked me to, so…” Piketail was no longer smiling, concern furrowing his brow.

“I know you would much rather be home,” he said lowly, “but Poppypaw is still stuck, and Featherfall is likely to try and hurt the Clans again. This time could be worse. Remember that when you don’t feel motivated, and let that drive you.” Littlesong thought of Splashpaw then, and felt some resolve. He didn’t want his friend to be targeted again, or anyone else for that matter. He let out one large, final sigh, but it was more dramatic than genuine.

“Fine,” he drawled, “I guess I can get it together long enough to hunt down a mass murdering cult leader. Sounds like a stroll by the kit stream.” Piketail still looked a little worried, but his eye softened.

“Exactly,” he played along with a purr. “You’ll go in, hone your acting skills, find Featherfall, and be home in time for the summer fishing tourney. You were going to enter, right?” Littlesong took the distraction, happy to discuss the annual competition Riverclan held every year. He had been a kit last year and thus unable to participate, but now he was planning on showing Goldenthorn who the better hunter was. Probably her, but he still had to try.

Turtledove entered the camp not long after the sun peeked over the horizon, her white fur stained brown and looking dead on her feet. They had been keeping her up all night and letting her sleep during the day to transition to a more Town oriented schedule, although it seemed she hadn’t completely adjusted yet. Still, she seemed to be quite the trooper, as she trotted over to the fresh kill pile with a few mice dangling from her jaws, dropping them off before reporting over to where Crowcall and Briarmask were still sitting. Piketail, noticing her arrival, rose to his feet with a stretch.

“Alright, go time.”

The idea was simple, at least in theory. Shadefur was taking Turtledove to the edge of the Houses to drop her off. There, the calico would spend some time in the gardens to lose the Clan scent she had. She’d then be responsible for finding her way to Rocky’s territory based on the instructions she had been given. Littlesong didn’t envy her- he would have a bit of an easier time with his escort. The difference was, they had to ensure that as few cats as possible saw him going to the contact’s house, as he was supposed to have been brought there by a human. A small patrol of Shadowclanner’s would essentially be smuggling him across the Town, and the way they planned on it was… slightly terrifying.

They’d be travelling across the houses themselves.

Crowcall had explained that very few cats looked up at the roofs, more focused on their immediate surroundings, and that Shadowclan had discovered the most covert way of travelling the Town was on the roofs during the day. It was difficult, however, and could be dangerous if someone fell, so it really was only for the direst of circumstances, like now. They had put Littlesong through his paces, first by marking spots on the ground to jump between, then taking him to the few oak trees in their territory to practice with height, and finally, now, he would be attempting the real deal. He wouldn’t lie- the idea was terrifying. Riverclan cats didn’t climb trees, okay? It wasn’t their thing. And houses were infinitely worse than trees, but again, Littlesong didn’t have much say in these things, so onward they would go.

Crowcall, Briarmask, Batflight, and Piketail would be escorting him to his new place. They led him to a small pool on the edge of the territory where he could wash his pelt, which he reveled in, yellow fur bright and clean once more. After a careful trek through the driest part of the territory, they were sat by one of the fences, their location carefully scouted- there were no kittypets living in any of the houses nearby, which meant they shouldn’t be spotted. The initial part of the journey would be the most difficult, as there were fewer houses and trees with more space between them, making the path indirect and dangerous. Once they made it into the denser part of Town it would be easier to make the jumps, but they would have to be more careful, on the off chance they ran into a loner or such. Briarmask and Crowcall would be scouting ahead, Piketail staying with Littlesong and Batflight covering the rear, which would hopefully prevent any such accidents. Hopefully, of course, being the key word- Littlesong was prepared for the plan to fall apart before it even began.

“Alright,” Briarmask said quietly, expression determined, “we’re off.” She and Crowcall scaled the fence quickly and quietly, making their way to the side of the house, which was thick with ivy. They used it to climb the rest of the way to the roof, which they made it to easily, before slinking up the incline and disappearing over the other side. Provided one of them didn’t come running back in the next few minutes, it would be time for Littlesong and Piketail to go. He was feeling distinctly queasy, which Batflight seemed to notice.

“Chin up, friend,” she chirped. “You’ll be a hero after this, you know. Be plenty popular with the young mollies, I’m sure- won’t have to worry about borders to find a girl, not that you water voles care about such things.” That might have cheered him up if Littlesong had any plans to get bonded, but as it stood, mollies were more trouble than they were worth. And even more so kittens, the thought of which sent shivers down his spine. No, thank you, he was quite content to only worry about himself. Piketail, who had always disagreed with such a notion- not that he seemed to ever pursue anyone, the hypocrite- took the opportunity to tease his former apprentice.

“Oh, Littlesong is above such things,” he said, tongue very much in cheek. “No molly is good enough for him, it seems.” Batflight laughed, a bright, jovial sound, and Piketail grinned in return.

“Well, thank the stars you don’t share the same attitude.” She said with a wink, and as Piketail twisted an ear back, Littlesong’s thoughts ground to a halt. Gaze flicking between the smug Batflight and the embarrassed Piketail, he furrowed his brow. Wait a second- is she flirting with him? He fixed his old mentor with an accusatory look.

“You-”

“We should get going,” Piketail said quickly, dipping his head to the still smiling Batflight. “Up you get, quickly now.” Littlesong acquiesced, the suspicion still swirling in his gut serving as a distraction, and before he knew it, they were slowly making their way over the roof. When he opened his mouth to ask about it, Piketail cut him off. “We need to keep quiet,” he said under his breath. “Focus on not dying when you make this jump.” Littlesong shut his mouth with a click, eyes still narrowed, but turned his reluctant attention to the jump in question. There was an oak tree, not nearly as big as the ones in the forest, located in the front yard between the house and the street it overhung. He would need to jump to it, carefully make his way to the other side of it, then jump to the oak overhanging the other side of the street, then to the house it was in front of, and then repeat that process twice more. He was exhausted just thinking about it. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, going over the strategy in his head. Pick a branch that looks sturdy, but that also has a sturdy one below it in case you fall. Give yourself a bit of a running start, then jump at the last second. When you land, hang on, and don’t start walking until you’re sure you’re stable. Target sighted, he once again took a deep breath, held it, and pushed off. He ran down the slope of the roof, hind feet planted on the edge of it as he leapt with all his might, thankfully making it to his chosen landing spot. He clung to the branch as it swayed, trying to calm his frantically beating heart. I did it! And, as Piketail had always said, if he could do it once, he could do it again. Steeling himself, Littlesong carefully started to make his way around, relieved to hear the rustling sound of Piketail landing behind him. His confidence renewed, he prepared to make the jump to the other tree.

This was only the first step, after all.

______________________________________________________________

It took most of the morning to make it to the contact’s house, a squat yellow thing with a white fence and flowerboxes in the windows. It was located right across from the park, something Littlesong was happy about- it was like a little scrap of home in this stone wasteland. They had gone around the park, as too many cats lived in it to even chance the trees, and soon enough they were dropping from the roof of the yellow house and into the backyard. There, an old queen who looked strangely familiar was waiting.

“Good morning, darlings,” she called, purring as they padded up to her. “So lovely to see you, dears. And you must be Dandelion, is that right?” Littlesong nodded respectfully, offering the queen a sweet grin.

“That’s me! Wonderful to meet you, miss.” She seemed flattered at the ‘miss,’ something that Briarmask rolled her eyes at. Crowcall’s mutter of gotta remember that one was met with a shove from the pointed molly, and now that Littlesong was looking at her...

“My name is Cookie. I am Rosestar’s mother.” She introduced herself, and of course, because where else had he seen that curly pelt before but Rosestar and Briarmask? Makes sense why they didn’t tell me who it was before I got here- I’m sure they don’t want me sharing this information.

“An honor to meet you as well, then.” He returned, offering her a sheepish grin. “I appreciate you letting me stay here.”

“Grandmother will help you sneak in and out of the house to avoid her humans,” Briarmask butted in. “It’s imperative that you smell like a kittypet, but it’s not like we can actually let the humans see you. You need to stay in the house without being seen for at least a day or so- try to get any last bit of swamp scent off of you.”

“Yes, dear, I can help you with that.” Cookie said. “I have some good hiding spots for you, and some blankets and such for you to roll in. Then when the time has passed, I can help you come in and out of the house as you need.” Okay, so this was the part he was dreading the most. He wasn’t afraid of humans, necessarily, but everyone in Riverclan had heard the horror stories- apprentices snatched from Sunning Rocks, warriors going to the Horse Place and never coming home… there was no small chance that if Cookie’s humans did find him in their home, they really would take him away. And then his cover story would be true, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen. Still, while Littlesong wasn’t the bravest cat around, he was a very good actor, and honestly, isn’t that the same thing? So he offered an easy grin and tried to keep his fur lying flat.

“I’m ready when you are, then. Are your humans home now?” Please don’t be, please don’t be-

“No, they are not. They typically leave in the morning and do not return until the evening, so you will be quite safe to move about during the day.” Praise the ancestors. Littlesong looked to Piketail then, who nodded.

“We should leave before we’re noticed,” he said quietly, looking to Briarmask and Crowcall for confirmation. They nodded as well.

“You should be safe to leave the normal way, if you wish.” Cookie said, looking a little disappointed at their swift departure. “My neighbors should still be asleep, and that nice tom across the street must have moved away. And besides, it isn’t odd to see you and Crowcall here, dear.” Briarmask hummed in consideration.

“I think Crow and I should leave like normal, yeah- that way if anybody did see us on the way in, we can just say we were visiting. Pike and Batty should probably go back over the rooftops, though.” She cast a sly glance at Batflight, who looked pleased, and Littlesong once again narrowed his eyes at the nervous Piketail. She was flirting with him. He tried to communicate his disappointment with a wounded look, but his old mentor was staring straight ahead. “And one last thing, of course.” The pointed molly mewed, drawing Littlesong’s attention. Crowcall rolled that dreaded moss ball over, and in short order the collar was once again firmly fixed around Littlesong’s neck. He batted at the bell miserably. Piketail, still looking embarrassed, cleared his throat.

“Alright,” he coughed, then turned to nudge Littlesong. “You be safe, alright? And if anything bad happens, you know where to find me.” Piketail had promised to be one of the Shadowclanners lingering in the Town, listing off places that he would be if Littlesong needed help. The yellow tom couldn’t help but feel comforted at the knowledge- Piketail had always known what to do when things went poorly, so having him as a backup made Littlesong much more confident. He nodded seriously, trying to show Piketail there was nothing to worry about, and was unsurprised to see his old mentor’s brow was still furrowed. The Shadowclanners all bid their goodbyes then, and when they left Littlesong turned to Cookie with a bright smile and resigned heart.

“Come along dear, I’ll give you the tour,” the queen purred, leading him up to the door. There was a different colored square at the bottom of it, which turned out to be a sort of flap, that when pushed lead into the house. Bracing himself, Littlesong pushed through gingerly, only to be immediately assaulted by a riot of scents and sights and textures he had never experience before. The ground was weirdly smooth beneath his feet, looking to be made out of strangely neat wood, like the fence beams at the Horse Place. The scent of human and human food was everywhere, strongly emanating from an area off the side with high ledges, humming, shiny objects, and a slick looking multicolored floor. Ahead were large, soft looking… things, and a weird indent that smelled like ash and charred wood, and…

Littlesong couldn’t help it- his fur prickled along his spine, and he froze right there in the entrance, rear end still firmly planted on the porch. Cookie, in front of him, turned to him in concern.

“I’m sure it must be overwhelming, darling,” she said gently. “We have many hours yet- take as much time as you need.” Littlesong took the out, returning to the porch with a rapidly beating heart, Cookie content to lay beside him as he tried to calm down. How am I going to do this if I can’t even go inside a house? He thought shamefully. Thank the ancestors Piketail isn’t here to see this. He would rather die than have Piketail think ill of him. “This is your first time around the Town, isn’t it?” Cookie’s voice interrupted his downward spiral. Snapped back into focus, Littlesong nodded slowly.

“I… I’ve seen humans before. Riverclan, where I’m from, it’s backed up to the Horse Place. Occasionally the humans that live there walk through our territory, or bring their horses there.” Thankfully that didn’t happen too often. He had personally only seen them once, when he was a very young apprentice, and Piketail had warned him to never go near any humans he saw. That night Goldenpaw had terrified him and Ripplepaw, just out of the nursery, with stories of Riverclanners being taken by humans, never to be seen again. “But I’ve never even been close to the house there, let alone inside of it. It’s… very strange.” Cookie hummed.

“I wouldn’t know, dear.” She smiled. “I’ve lived here my whole life, you know. All fourteen winters.” Littlesong did his best not to google- fourteen winters? That was almost unheard of, for a cat to live that long- well, a Clan cat, anyway. “You see, humans are strange things. Some have a preference for what they call ‘pure blood’ cats, and raise such kinds of cats and give their kittens away to others. That’s what my humans used to do, before my mate died. We both had the same curly fur, you see, and so did any kittens we had together. Pure blood cats usually have something strange about them, like flat faces, or curled ears, or rare colors. The tom across the street was like that too, although I do not know what kind of blood he had.” That was all sorts of crazy. Humans are even more bizarre than I thought.

“Wait,” he said, coming to a horrified realization. “They gave your kittens away?” Now listen, Littlesong may not be too keen on kittens of his own, but he was a Clan cat. Kittens were everything- the very future of the Clans. Without them, what would happen to the Code? Their traditions? The territories? So for the humans to just… give away a poor cat’s kittens, never to be seen again? That was the most callous thing he had ever heard of. Cookie looked a little mournful.

“They did. Or most of them, anyway.” She sighed. “I’ve had about ten litters in my life. A few of my babies I can still see- they must have gone to friends of my humans, as sometimes they visit and bring my babies with them. But most I have not seen since they were very young. It is the way of things for cats like us. That’s what my mother taught me, and I knew that that would be my lot in life.” Littlesong didn’t want to press too much, but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around it all.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, and please, you don’t have to say, but how did Rosestar end up in Shadowclan?” Cookie didn’t seem upset, thankfully, a fond smile stealing over her face, and she began to purr.

“Ah, Rosey, and my poor little Thorn,” she said. “I had this idea when they were young. Two of their siblings had been taken away, but they still remained. It was longer than they were usually allowed to stay, you see, and I was desperate to keep them in my life somehow. I had heard of the Clans, but then one afternoon, I actually met a Shadowclan warrior.” Cookie gave him a mischievous wink. “Now, I know I don’t look like much now, but I was quite the sneak, back in my day. I followed that molly all the way back to the Shadowclan camp. Walked right in and asked to speak to their leader. My, it was like I kicked over an ant pile, the way cats were running around. The leader then was Ivystar, about my age. I could smell the milk on her, knew she must have kittens of her own, so I explained to her my predicament, and asked if I could bring my remaining children to her Clan. I thought I would see them more often, then, especially if they had their own agency, instead of living with humans far away.”

“I’m guessing Ivystar accepted.” Littlesong smiled, and he tactful enough to know he probably shouldn’t press about Thorn. He could put the pieces together there after his time in Shadowclan.

“Oh, she did. I don’t know how those other warriors felt, but the next day she came herself to my home with her deputy and took Rosey and Thorn back to Shadowclan. My humans were so upset- they looked for days and days for them, and honestly…” Cookie’s smile was more sly, now. “It felt a little good to see them have to go through what I went through, every time they took my kittens away. As terrible as that seems, dear.” Littlesong couldn’t help but laugh, though. He really liked Cookie- the old queen was kind, and funny, and really, he was grateful that she was the one he was staying with. “Now, little lion,” she said, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge at the nickname- that was dad’s name, Lion- “Would you like to try again?” And the tom thought of his father, and Piketail, and wanted to make them proud. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

______________________________________________________________

It took a bit, but he got to the point where he could fully enter the house. Cookie led him up the stairs to a spare room with a closet full of blankets. He mumbled the unfamiliar words to himself as he went, trying to expand his kittypet vocabulary. Cookie told him he could hide in the closet, up on what she called a shelf when her humans were home. Apparently they only went into the closet to get the blankets during cold weather, and with the turn of the seaon they should have no need to while he was there. She showed him a few more hiding places as backups- under a bed, behind an armchair, even up high on more shelves and such. Cookie then had him take a nap in her bed at the windowsill, saying it would be good both for his scent and for other cats to see him in the house. She would tell her neighbors about the ‘nice young tom’ her humans had brought home the night before, and hopefully the news would start to spread. Then, in a few days, he could make his first public appearance.

The time couldn’t go by fast enough.

He was stuck eating kittypet food, which… wasn’t as bad as he had been told. The stuff Cookie ate wasn’t hard little pellets, thank goodness. It was some sort of meat, tasting vaguely of fish, which soothed Littlesong’s homesickness more than he thought it would. Cookie’s humans put the food down before they left every morning, and she used her own acting skills to get them to give her more than she usually ate, just so Littlesong wouldn’t go hungry. The rest of the days were spent listening to Cookie’s stories, rubbing himself on the strange human clothes, and playing with the toys Cookie showed him. At night, when he had to hide up on the closet shelf, he thought of his family and his friends, the homesickness threatening to devour him. He wanted his own nest, the ever present murmur of the river, to see his mom and his friends and yes, even Goldenthorn…

Finally, the day of promise dawned. Cookie declared she could no longer smell a hint of the Clans on him, and so she could start introducing him to her neighbors. The old queen did not leave her own garden, however, so he would be on his own past there. A day or so of spending time with the other kittypets- there was Fluffy right next door, an old puffy white queen with strange folded ears, Bolt, an orange tom about his mother’s age who occasionally called on Cookie, along with Ducky and Lucky, two kittens who lived on the other side of the house, much too young to be without their mother, in his opinion- and finally, finally, Littlesong was ready for his first night adventure. Now, he might not have been excited about this at first, but spending almost a week in a human house changed a cat, and now Littlesong was chomping at the bit to get out. He waited until Cookie’s humans went to sleep, and then she carefully led him down the stairs, across the quiet house, and out into the garden. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, but there were plenty of lights around to see by. Cookie bid him to be safe, eyes bright with worry, and he gave her a fond nudge before heading out. Up the fence, through the yard, onto the sidewalk, and then…

He was free. The whole world seemed full of possibilities, and he was more than happy to amble along. Briarmask had told him he couldn’t be too sneaky- he needed to look like a sheltered kittypet, after all. So he pretended he was just going on a walk to the river, stopping to sniff at interesting objects, observe a moth fluttering by, the whole deal. Occasionally he saw another cat, but they stayed close to the shadows, watching him with wary eyes, glinting in the yellow streetlights. It wasn’t until he approached an alley, drawn by a curious scent, that someone confronted him. Two toms slipped from the shadows, faces set in harsh lines. The older one, a grizzled gray, spoke.

“Who the hell are you, and why are you on my turf?” His tone was mild, but Littlesong could recognize the danger underneath. He let his fur bush out, taking a gulp, but stood his ground- he needed to show that he was a kittypet with promise, not a complete coward.

“My name is Dandelion,” he said slowly, eyeing the toms carefully. The younger one, fur a smooth brown, seemed like trouble. “I finally got out of my human’s house and I wanted to take a look around. I’m not familiar with this area.” The older tom’s ear twitched.

“’Finally got out?’” He asked, taking another step forward. Good, he took the bait. “You a street cat before?” Apparently it was common enough that all Littlesong had to do was intimate that he was reluctant to be a kittypet and everyone would assume he had been a stray. And, if they were as desperate for recruits as Gorsestorm said, that could be his in. Provided these cats were actually with Featherfall and not just looking to beat him up, of course. Littlesong paused before giving a hesitant nod.

“I was born on the street,” he explained, relaxing his shoulders a bit and taking on a friendlier tone. “When I left my mother I was almost immediately picked up by a human.” He gave a barely feigned shudder. “She lived in one of those tall houses with many nests. I couldn’t find my way back out. But then these new humans came and brought me here a few days ago.” Littlesong smiled. “Tonight’s the first night they didn’t bring me to their bed to sleep, so I wanted to come out here, get a feel for the place.” By now the other two toms had relaxed as well, sitting comfortably as they listened. The gray tom nodded thoughtfully, ear flicking. He let out a sigh, a high, reedy thing.

“Well, if you’re looking to leave, you’re gonna wanna join up with a colony,” he mused aloud, “and to do that you’ll have to prove yourself.” Littlesong nodded, now letting his confidence show.

“Yeah, I would like to get out of there sooner than later. And ditch this,” he scowled, batting at his collar. “How would someone go about proving themselves?”

“Well,” the old tom drawled, “it depends on who you wanna fall in with. For example, my colony requires a cat to have some fighting skill. It’s a rough life out here, after all.” Littlesong let his smile grow, secretly delighting in the challenge- any Clan cat can sweep a loner. Even me.

“Even better,” Littesong said. “The human I lived with before had another cat, this mean old tom. Huge. Beat me up whenever she was away until I learned to fend for myself. Reckon I could beat just about anyone now.” He boasted, glad to see the young tom looked annoyed and the older one looked amused. Arrogance is a trait shared by warriors and kittypets alike.

“Well now,” the gray tom purred, “we’ll just have to see, hm? How’s this- I’m a bit busy right now, moving our base to a different place and all. But, if you’re serious about leaving your human, we could use another set of paws around. In, let’s say, two days, go to the park at night. We’ll have a challenge for you then.” Littlesong nodded amicably, letting his excitement show. There was no way to tell if these were Featherfall cats, of course, but getting in with a group right away would help him connect with others who might have the information he needed.

“I’ll definitely be there. Think I’d go crazy if I stay in that house much longer. And can I ask what your names are?” Crowcall had warned him that a lot of street cats could be cagey about their names, but that as a kittypet, a certain amount of precociousness was to be expected. Just don’t be surprised if you get clawed for it. Thankfully, the old tom seemed mostly amused by him, even if his younger companion was less of a fan.

“Whistler,” he mewed, then jerked his head to his companion. “This is Bear. See you in two days.” With that, they melted back in the shadows. Littlesong hummed, turning to amble his way back to Cookie’s house, reveling in his success.

Whistler… where have I heard that name before?

#warriors ocs #warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #my writing #wc pyrophyte #wc fanfic

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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER TWO

GROWING PAINS

Gorsestorm is repeatedly being put in situations that encourage him to be more mature, respectful, and downright pleasant. It's probably killing him.

“And now this is lavender, we definitely need some of that!” Alright, who’s the mentor here? Gorsestorm mused, ambling along obediently after Teaseltuft as she chattered on about the herbs she was collecting. Well, I mean, I was her mentor, and besides, who doesn’t know what lavender is? But that was a bratty thing to think, and the tom was honestly working on fixing that, so he didn’t speak it out loud and instead focused on the pride he felt for his former apprentice. It had been rough for her after Kestrelcall’s murder- she had had to make the trips to Thunderclan and Shadowclan for instruction, with Snowdrift making the odd visit to Windclan, as well as seeking out guidance from the ancestors whenever possible. Thankfully, with Kestrelcall’s spirit being free, the young molly had received some ghostly instruction over the past couple of moons, finally earning her name a couple weeks ago. And Gorsestorm honestly was proud of her, proud of her resilience and intelligence and her ability to remain softhearted despite everything that happened. “Hey, how’s it going with Robinsong, by the way? Do I need to practice for another bonding ceremony?”

Even if Teaseltuft was a meddlesome busybody.

“You guys need to let up about that,” he groaned, now slumping along instead of ambling. “Who’s to say she even likes me like that? Or, uh, if I even like her like that? Do you want me to be miserable, Teasel? Besides, she’s going through a lot right now.” As if they didn’t have more important things to worry about. After Daisypetal and Oatfur were bonded, and now that she and Bluetail were both in the nursery, Shalestar was seriously on his tail about Robinsong. You have a responsibility to this Clan, and part of that means having heirs. You can’t do that if you let every available molly get snatched up. And stars forbid he find some loner to take as a mate, which really, truly, left Robinsong as his only option. Which… he was fine with, because they were friends and she was super smart and kind and all that wonderful stuff, but he didn’t know how she felt about it. If she had even realized it. Because it was kind of terrible, wasn’t it? How was he even supposed to approach her about courting? Hey, sorry you’re mourning your only brother, but I need to have kits, and you’re my only option. Want to go hunting? And even worse, he’d have to get her family’s permission before he asked her to court, like, officially, and since Thrushspots was dead, the only cat left was Buzzardclaw, that crochety old bastard… “And besides, shouldn’t we be focused on the plan to find Featherfall?” His bid to change the subject fell flat as Teaseltuft flicked a dismissive tail.

“I am completely confident in our success. Poppypaw will be home before the summer, I just know it.” He almost flinched at her name. “Besides, there can be multiple issues at once, you know. Shalestar is right, even if she’s a little bossy about it. I know Heathernose’s children can also be heirs, but you shouldn’t count on that without trying everything you can first.”

“I’m not- I wasn’t thinking of it like that.” He protested, then sighed. He could stand to be a little honest, he supposed. “I just don’t want to be unfair to Robinsong. With the whole thing with Thrushspots, you know, and she didn’t ask for this- what if she doesn’t want to? What if she just says yes because she feels pressured? That’s- I don’t want- ugh.” Teaseltuft softened, purring as she leaned up against him, the two coming to a stop.

“You won’t know until you ask her, right? And if she doesn’t want to, well, we’ll just have to find some poor loner molly to shack up with you.” Gorsestorm was about to give in and offer a snarky rebuttal when a cry pierced the air.

“Help! Someone, please!” Immediately the tom sprang into action, putting himself between Teaseltuft and the yelling, shoving her in the direction of camp.

“Go,” he demanded, and confound it all, she was trying to dodge past him to the source of the noise.

“Gorsestorm, someone is in trouble!”

“They’re going to stay in trouble, because that’s not anyone we know, and it could be a trap-”

“What if it’s not? We can’t abandon someone in need! What if they’re in trouble like I was?” Gorsestorm was basically wrestling her like a wild rabbit at this point, trying to get a good grip on the ridiculously fluffy healer without hurting her. Meanwhile, the rustling in the heather and the calls for help were getting louder, signaling that whoever was yelling was getting closer by the second. Where are Heather and Kite? They should be nearby-

“Teasel, I am not risking your life for a stranger, damn it all-” Too late. A white blur came tumbling out of the scrub near them, immediately followed by two dark ones. Gorsestorm planted himself in front of Teaseltuft, puffing up his short fur and hissing like a snake. The white blur was a molly, now trembling at his feet, and the others were two lean tabby toms, bristling ferociously. The molly was roughed up, scratches littering her pelt, and she looked up at Gorsestorm like he was her only hope.

“Please,” she rasped, starting to crawl towards him, “I need-”

“Not a step closer,” he growled, and she flinched, stopping immediately. Teaseltuft let out her own displeased noise, but he simply used a back foot to shove her more firmly behind him. “Who are you? What is the meaning of this?”

“Sorry to trouble you,” one of the toms mewed, claws still out but fur now lying flat. “This is a… personal issue. We’ll just be taking our friend back and be out of your fur.” Now, Gorsestorm wasn’t heartless. He was very concerned for the molly, who was now cowering in fear as the tom started padding towards her. But he had his priorities, and right now, Teaseltuft’s safety was the most important thing. Still…

“It became my issue once you trespassed on my territory,” he hissed, taking a bold step forward. “You need to leave. Now. And your… friend isn’t going with you.” And ugh, he knew Teasel was probably smiling right now, but the two tabby toms before him were definitely not smiling, in fact, they looked ready to take his tail off-

And praise the ancestors, two of the other troublesome mollies in his life decided to finally show up. Heathernose and Kiteclaw leapt from the scrub, each taking out a now surprised tom. Gorsestorm would’ve stepped forward, but, well, they were more than capable of taking care of it. Kite is a -claw for a reason, after all. In a minute the toms were sent running, Kiteclaw all too happy to lope off after them, leaving the golden-brown siblings to stare down at the molly between them.

“You know, it’s weird this has happened twice,” Gorsestorm hummed. “I at least don’t feel nauseous this time-” Teaseltuft whacked him on the rump, claws unsheathed, the little terror, while Heathernose gave an exasperated sigh.

“Insufferable. Literally. Good luck getting Robinsong to even look at you-”

“Alright, enough of that stuff, honestly.” He refocused on the white molly, who now looked a little less scared but a lot more confused. “Come on, we’ll escort you to a different part of the border. You shouldn’t have to worry about those toms anymore.” He thought that was perfectly reasonable, and it seemed his sister did too, as she went to help the molly stand, but Teaseltuft was looking at him like he had just stolen food from a starving kit. “What?”

“You are insufferable. Honestly, Gorsestorm, she can barely stand! We at least need to take her back to camp and patch her up!” She’s going to be the death of me.

“Teasel,” he said pleasantly, forcing himself not to snap, “the first rule of personal safety is to not take strangers to where you live. No offense,” he shot a look at the molly, “but I’m not taking any chances. We are taking her to the border, and that’s final.”

“You brought me back to camp.” Teaseltuft glared, and she had puffed herself up now, and had that stubborn glint in her eye, stars help him. She’s becoming too bold, the little fluffball.

“I thought you were a kit.” She sputtered, now also looking offended.

“I told you I was eight moons old-”

“I honestly figured you were lying, you looked like you had just fallen from your nest-”

“If I may,” the molly cut in, looking a little put out. “I don’t- I don’t know if I could make it to a different border. And if those toms are still lurking around…” And ugh, Teaseltuft looked both annoyed and expectant, and Heathernose was looking concerned, and now Kiteclaw was back, and she was looking to him for a decision…

“Fine,” he said, ignoring Teaseltuft’s pleased little wiggle, “fine. We will go back to camp, but you get to explain this to Shalestar. It’s not my problem if you get in trouble.” There was only so much maturity that could be expected from him in a single day, and he really was at his limit. With a huff he turned and stalked off, leading the way back to camp. He could hear Teaseltuft introducing herself behind him, and the white molly’s reply.

“Lily. My name is Lily.”

______________________________________________________________

“You want her to stay?” In a moment of utter vindication, Shalestar also seemed to not be so keen on their unexpected guest. Teaseltuft, bless her bleeding heart, was trying to argue that the molly needed a few days to recover. She could barely look Shalestar in the eye when she first got here, and now look at her. Maybe I am a bad influence.

“Not forever,” the fluffy molly said quickly, “just until she’s better. And to make sure those toms don’t just find her and hurt her all over again.” Apparently, Lily had been approached by one of those toms to be his mate. He was not too happy when she refused. She had then tried to leave the area, allegedly being from some houses past the Barn and the Mothermouth, not that any of them had ever been that far, only to be followed after by said tom and his brother. Guy really doesn’t take no for an answer. They had caught up to her near Windclan territory, and while she had smelled the border markings, she had hoped to find some cats from the Clans she had heard about to help. Which, you know, fine, but she was still an outsider, and with all the issues they had going on, Gorsestorm didn’t feel like it was smart to bring in some stranger with an unverifiable backstory. “And besides, you asked me to stay after about five minutes, Shalestar. Would it be so bad to extend that same welcome to another cat in need?” Now Shalestar seemed a little swayed, so Gorsestorm needed to nip that in the bud, right now.

“Teasel, you know Shalestar received a dream from the ancestors about you coming to the Clan. As far as I’m aware, there have been no signs about this molly.” And yes, now Shalestar was nodding. Teaseltuft huffed.

“Exactly, there have been no signs, good or bad, which means we’re at a net neutral here.” The medicine cat sighed. “I at least want to make sure she’s healthy before she goes. And while she’s here, would it be so bad to see if she fits in? If she might want to stay?” Gorsestorm knew there was nothing they could say to sway the medicine cat, and Shalestar seemed to think so too, as she sighed and gave a nod.

“Fine. She can stay for a few days until you are satisfied with her condition.” She then looked at Gorsestorm, and no, oh no, he was not playing kit sitter- “Gorsestorm, please tell Robinsong I would like her to stay with our… guest. I feel a molly of a similar age would be best, and Robinsong our best option of those. That way she can keep an eye on our guest without offending her, and we’ll all feel better about it.” Compromise reached, but now Shalestar was giving him that stupid mischievous grin she had every time he even glanced Robinsong’s way. “She was on morning patrols, so she should be back in camp by now. You’re dismissed.” Gorsestorm reluctantly padded out of Shalestar’s den, wincing in the bright light that beat down into the camp. Casting his gaze about, he saw Robinsong laying out in front of the elder’s den with her grandfather, laughing as the tom grumbled. Even better.

“Hey Robin,” he greeted, then stumbled at Buzzardclaw’s glare. “Song. I mean, hey Robinsong. Good afternoon, Buzzardclaw.” He gave the tom a respectful nod, which seemed to lessen the intensity of his dirty look. The elder was a stickler for tradition and the like, which was fine of course, but that also meant anything less than perfect formality was not tolerated. Like calling his only and beloved granddaughter by just her given name instead of her full name, which was much too familiar for the likes of him.

“Gorsestorm. Stirring up trouble?” Buzzardclaw was also of the opinion that Gorsestorm should have been permanently kicked out for daring to challenge Shalestar, something he made abundantly clear, and something which definitely motivated Gorsestorm to stay away from him as much as possible.

“No, sir, not this time.” Damn it, hold your tongue. “Shalestar has need of Robinsong’s help, and asked me to deliver the message.” Robinsong, bless her, knew how uncomfortable her grandfather made Gorsestorm these days, and stood up with a purr.

“Alright, Grandpa, it’s about time you took your nap, anyway. I know your routine! I’ll see you later, okay?” Another ferocious harumph, but Buzzardclaw deigned to let her give him an affectionate lick and pad away without further comment. Gorsestorm led her over towards the medicine den with a relieved sigh.

“Sorry about him,” she murmured, although her whiskers were twitching in amusement. “I know you know he doesn’t like you.”

“Not sparing my feelings, huh?” He groused, but his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Anyway, you know that new molly we brought back?” She nodded. “Shalestar wants you to keep an eye on her. Since she seems to be about our age and all.” And all being that Heathernose didn’t speak unless spoken to most of the time, and Kiteclaw did not have the patience to stay in camp playing kit sitter all day. But Robinsong was much more affable and infinitely more patient, so it fell to her. Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset about it, just giving another pleasant nod. And now the only thing spinning in his head was Teaseltuft’s comment from earlier and he needed to get out of here before he said something stupid. “Awesome. Well, I’ve got-”

“Can I ask you something?” She interrupted him, and now his stomach was tying itself into knots, but he just swallowed hard and stuttered an affirmative. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“You’ve been acting weird lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just because I’m off, but I wanted to make sure you’re alright too.” She smiled. “You’ve been fussing enough over me, so I figured you could take your turn being worried about.” Okay, he had not been fussing. He just… Thrushspots had been Robinsong’s only family besides Buzzardclaw. And Robinsong was his friend, so of course he was going to check in on her, and make sure she had enough to eat, and had someone to go on patrols with and stuff. And yeah, she was close with Heather and Kite, but Heathernose wasn’t exactly the best when it came to comforting others, and Kiteclaw was mourning Thrushspots in her own secret way, so it was up to Gorsestorm to make sure Robinsong was alright these past couple moons. Come to think of it, maybe that’s not helping everyone’s perception of what’s going on.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m fine, really. Shalestar has just, well, she’s been on me a lot lately, and- uh…” That sounded like a weak excuse, and while the brown molly was giving an understanding nod, she really did deserve an explanation, so he swallowed hard, again, and spit something out. “Actually, do you want to go hunting later? Or something?”

“Or something,” she said, seeming amused. “Since I’m playing watch dog to our guest. You can go hunting and then we can eat together, how’s that sound?” Good enough.

“Perfect. I’ll… tell you all about it then. It’s nothing terrible, I promise.” Robinsong reassured, he bid her goodbye, heading over towards the nursery. He spent most of his free time there with Nightkit now, especially since the little tom was only a moon shy of his apprentice ceremony. Sure enough, the four siblings were out, Nightkit sprawled out to the side watching his sisters and brother wrestle. Palesky and Littlestream must be out. A more regular occurrence, now that their kittens were older.

“Hi, Gorsestorm,” the little gray tom mewed politely as the warrior came over. “Who’s that new cat?”

“Her name is Lily. She was in trouble, so we brought her back to camp to help her. She’s probably only going to be here a few days.”

“Good!” And that was Morningkit, who had been sent tumbling their way by Dawnkit. “I don’t like her. She’s weird.”

“Morning! That’s rude!” Duskkit protested, seeming affronted on Lily’s behalf. “Mama says you’re not allowed to say stuff like that!”

“Well, Mama’s not here, and that means I’m in charge!” The cream tom retorted, jumping when Gorsestorm cleared his throat.

“It actually means I’m in charge, little burr.” He mewed drily. “And your sister is right, that is a rude thing to say. You haven’t even met her to make that assessment anyway.” The kit shook his head stubbornly.

“Doesn’t matter-“ But it seemed his sisters had had enough, as they both tackled him and once again went rolling around. Beside him, Nightkit sighed. Gorsestorm shot him a smile.

“My, five moons old and you sound like an elder. Is that some gray hair I see?” Nightkit gave him a deadpan look, which he was chagrinned to admit was much like his own. Stars know he didn’t learn that from his parents.

“Morningkit is usually right about stuff.” He simply said. “Anyway, I heard a cool story from the elders. Wanna hear it?” Gorsestorm settled in, content to let the little tom regale him with a story of some deputy who challenged their leader to a battle of honor over some misbegotten deed. He definitely didn’t hear this from Buzzardclaw. But it was a pleasant way to spend time until the evening hunting patrol, which he was sent out on with Oatfur, Silverfang, and Dipperwing. Now those two- talk about attached at the hip. Dipperwing had regained some much-needed confidence, and with a little work was back to hunting and border patrols. Silverfang, now capable of speaking in a whisper, typically guided him around, pressed flank to flank to help make sure he didn’t stumble or run into anything unexpected. It allowed the black tom more freedom to run without worry, which he seemed to enjoy. As far as hunting went, Dipperwing’s hearing had taken on an even sharper edge, and now any rabbit chased towards him had little hope of escaping. It was a good compromise, since the tom had a hard time running them down himself, and also allowed him some sense of normality. The group was successful in their hunt, at any rate, bringing home five fat rabbits an hour or so later. More than we used to get in a whole day in the snow. Thank the stars for the spring. Once back in camp, the four warriors happily made their way to the freshkill pile to drop off their catch.

“Gorsestorm!” Came a call, and he looked to see Shalestar sitting with Robinsong. Father, I don’t know what kind of pull you have up there, Gorsestorm thought as he carefully approached the two mollies, but please do something to help me catch a break.

“Shalestar, Robinsong. Everything alright?”

“Not to worry, I just wanted to remind you about tomorrow,” Shalestar said. “You’ll be leaving for Shadowclan for a few days, remember? Are you ready for that?” And ok, he had forgotten, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready. Shalestar was satisfied with his affirmative, waving goodbye to the two warriors before heading back to her den.

“Want to eat now, then?” Robinsong asked. “You should get us one of those rabbits you just caught.”

“Should’ve said something before I came over,” he grumbled, but obediently returned to the pile and brought a rabbit back to where the brown molly was now laying outside the medicine den. He shot the entrance a suspicious look. “Is Teaseltuft alone with her down there?” An eye roll.

“No, Cinderfall is down there too. He wanted to chat, so I decided to take my allotted break so we could eat. And you could tell me about what’s going on.” I guess that’s fine. “What has Shalestar been on your tail about?” Right for the throat, I guess. Just pull the thorn out, Gorsestorm.

“Well, uh, she’s been on me about my… responsibilities to the Clan. Since I’m officially Heir now.” Just Heir, not Heir Apparent, which Palesky technically was, but that would change once Gorsestorm had mentored Nightkit. “And part of that includes finding someone to settle down with. I guess.”

“I guess that would make sense,” she teased, looking casually around the camp. “Not a lot of options there, hm?” He winced.

“Uh, you could say that.”

“So, you’ve been awkward because you don’t want to ask me about it, or because you’re scared about what I’ll say?” All he could do was stare at her like she had three heads, and thankfully she seemed to find this funny instead of insulting, as she let out a loud laugh. “Gorse. You think I’m not aware? You’re not the only one who it’s been mentioned to, you know. Heather and Kite were telling me about it. They think you’re scared, but uh…” Now Robinsong seemed a little unsure, and great, that meant they were both off kilter, which meant he was probably going to put his foot in his mouth.

“Sorry, about that, I, uh, I can tell them to lay off.” He stuttered, although internally he knew they wouldn’t listen to anything he said. By Robinsong’s unimpressed look, she knew that too. “But it’s not that I don’t want to ask you, it’s more like…” He let out a sigh, ears drooping. “My parents- they loved each other so much, you know? It was always this great romantic tale that my dad told. And I feel bad, you know, because while I think you’re great and I’m happy we’re friends, I don’t-” He trailed off. Stars above, Gorse, you’re not breaking up with her, it’s not like you’re reneging on some vow of affection-

“But we don’t love each other like that, so it’s weird.” She finished, and he nodded, grateful.

“I’m not saying I couldn’t, or won’t,” he said quietly, “but I don’t right now. And I don’t feel like it’s fair to ask you to court because everyone says I need to without, you know, knowing you’re okay with it too. Because I am okay with it otherwise,” he said quickly, and he really did mean that. “I- I think we could work together. I just… don’t want you to feel pressured into it. You deserve to court someone because you love them, not because you’re, well, their only option.” And it wasn’t nice to say, but it was the truth, wasn’t it? Robinsong hummed, and thankfully she didn’t look upset, just thoughtful.

“How about this,” she said. “We could just… try it. Unofficially. See what happens, right? We are friends, so it’s not like it’s a pain spending time together. And then that might get Shalestar off your tail, and we could figure it out without so much pressure.” Father, I don’t know what you did, but I owe you. Relieved, he nodded.

“You always were the smart one,” he said, which got another laugh out of her. “Although, does this mean I need to talk to Buzzardclaw?” Robinsong snorted.

“Stars help us, please don’t. We’ll catch that mouse when we find it.” They continued on like that, joking and enjoying their meal together, and Gorsestorm let a little hope bloom in his chest. Maybe this really will work.

Any hope fizzled out the next morning, which was cold and bleary and drizzly, the perfect weather for trekking across the territory and into the marsh. Ugh. He was sat just outside the camp with Teaseltuft, waiting for Shalestar to see him off. He’d be making the trip alone. How convenient.

“Can I just go tomorrow?” He did not whine, he just asked normally, but Teaseltuft’s whiskers twitched all the same. Not all of us are built like sheep, he almost snapped, but again, he was doing his best to be… kinder with his words. “I only need to be there for a couple days, and there’s still a week before they head in.”

“The sooner they can go in, the better.” And of course Shalestar picked now to show up. “If the last piece they need is what you can give them, then you need to go give it to them. A day could make the difference between success and failure.” It’s a miracle she hasn’t lost a life from stress yet, she’s wound so tight. But she had a point, and the sooner they got this taken care of, the sooner Poppypaw could go home. Speaking of…

“Have you seen Poppypaw again?” He asked Teaseltuft, disappointed when the molly shook her head. Since that day a couple weeks after the battle, the medicine cat had reported seeing glimpses of Poppypaw’s spirit at random times and random places, from the Mothermouth to the Gathering hollow, day and night. She wasn’t able to speak with her, and she was the only one able to see her, not that Gorsestorm hadn’t tried, and now the sightings had been trailing off. Honestly, Gorsestorm was a little worried that something bad was happening to Poppypaw’s spirit, that she might have been out of Starclan too long. Teaseltuft didn’t seem to share his concerns.

“She’s fine, Gorsestorm. Honestly, who’s to say she doesn't have her own plans? The best thing we can do for her now is focus on finding Featherfall.” He nodded with a sigh, resigning himself to his journey. It was early- how early impossible to tell because of the cloud cover, but probably around dawn. It would take a bit to slog his way over to Shadowclan, and it would be best to get going before his luck turned even worse and it started to rain.

“Alright, then. I’m off, see you all in a few days. Send someone if anything important happens, and Teasel, do not do anything stupid while I’m gone.” The medicine cat just gave him a cheery grin, nudging him to his feet.

“I promise not to do anything I think is stupid. Now, be safe, and give everyone my best.” Shalestar gave him a determined nod, yellow eyes standing out in the watery gray atmosphere, and with that, he loped off. Gorsestorm had said goodbye to Heather and Kite, and yes, Robinsong, the night before, knowing he would have to be up early, something none of the mollies were a fan of. What, you agree to try things out and then leave the next day? You sure know how to make a girl feel special. Robinsong had teased, green eyes sparkling with humor, and Gorsestorm had tried to defend himself without sounding stupid-

He almost tripped over a rock, distracted by his thoughts. Gorsestorm gave himself a rough shake, picking up speed and refocusing on his task. This isn’t the time for that. No, now was the time to be serious, and put all of his effort into this single goal.

Keep everyone safe.

______________________________________________________________

By the time he arrived in the Shadowclan camp, Gorsestorm was thoroughly damp and miserable. He had mud all over his legs and belly from his run, he was positively shivering with cold, and his nose was running something awful. What a sight I must make, he grumbled to himself. Some Windclan representative. He had been met at the border by Briarmask, Batflight, and Houndtooth, and at the very least they also had muddy feet and wet pelts, so he wasn’t alone in his discomfort. They took him to Rosestar, who greeted him quite exuberantly for such a mucky day, and explained that Gorsestorm would be meeting with Turtledove and Littlesong to fill them in on what he knew. The next two days would be spent observing their training, offering more advice, and working out a schedule and place to meet with them. Some Shadowclan warriors would be taking him to potential meeting spots along the Town border so he could choose where he thought was best. He would also be responsible for coordinating with a Thunderclan and Riverclan messenger to ensure all the Clans would be kept in the loop about what was happening in Town. Apparently, Oakstar and Mintstar would be sending their chosen delegates the next day. Thankfully, the pointed tom gave him a chance to eat something and absorb all that information before shuffling him off to complete his many tasks.

Now, Gorsestorm was in the quiet warriors’ den with Littlesong, Turtledove, Shadefur, and Briarmask, where it was much warmer and much more comfortable. He had thought it over while eating and grooming the mud out of his fur, and felt he knew how to explain his time in the Town without airing all his dirty secrets. Like accusing Shalestar of murder and losing in his fight against her. So embarrassing.

“So,” he began. “When I first went into the Town, it took a couple of days for someone to approach me. The cat who did was a tom named Rocky. He wanted to know why a Clan cat was camping out in his territory, so I told him I had become disillusioned with my leader and wanted to try life on my own.” That… hadn’t been a complete lie. It had definitely taken about a week for him to cool off from the fight with Shalestar, and even then, it took learning of Stonestar’s involvement in the murders to get him to feel completely contrite. “He was happy with that and took me to meet Featherfall. Of course, I didn’t know who she was at the time, and she just introduced herself as Feather. She told me she had a grudge against the Clans for how they had treated her and asked if I would help her get some justice. That, of course, was a red flag, so I decided to try and learn if she had anything to do with my father’s murder. At that point, I only knew of his, Poppypaw, and Reedpelt’s death, and nothing of the omen, so I didn’t have a lot to go on.” A round of understanding nods, although Turtledove’s brow was furrowed like she had a question. She didn’t say anything, though, so he moved on. “They brought me to where Rocky’s group lived in an alley. He lived there with his mate, Sapphire, and their kits, Gem and Flip, along with a pair of toms named Snoop and Diver. Rocky’s brother, Crash, and his mate lived nearby supposedly, but I only met the brother once. I guess he was the cat who helped attack Fernfire. Other cats would stop by, but I didn’t usually see the same cat twice, and honestly, I don’t remember most of their names.”

“Why did Shalestar send you to spy without telling the rest of the Clans?” Turtledove suddenly blurted out, seeming confused. “If she was going the spy route way back then, why not say anything?” Oh, perfect, the exact question he had wanted to avoid.

“Uh, I, didn’t exactly tell Shalestar I was doing this. I kind of… took it upon myself to try and find who killed my father and Poppypaw. I was sick of waiting.” Hopefully they believe that. Thankfully, the other cats seemed satisfied, Turtledove giving an affirming nod before she suddenly wilted.

“Er, sorry for, you know, interrupting, I just… couldn’t figure it out.” Gorsestorm just shrugged. He wasn’t in a place to judge others about being rude.

“No worries. Anyway, when I found out about Stonestar and Featherfall and their real plans, and the fact that they killed my father, I was furious. Thankfully, I hadn’t actually seen Stonestar at that point, and Featherfall thought I was just a random Windclanner. I tried to insert myself more after that, you know, volunteering to help hunt and train others, and I thought Featherfall trusted me. Later I found out she didn’t tell me about Kestrelcall’s death, just that she was planning an attack on Shadowclan. I did my best to sow discord in the rogue group by telling the cats who would visit Rocky horror stories about the Clans, that Featherfall wasn’t actually planning on giving them territory, that kind of stuff. Cats stopped coming by after that. But I think that got Featherfall and Rocky suspicious. I tried to follow Featherfall when she left one night, and ended up finding her talking to Stonestar. Rocky had followed after me and found me eavesdropping, and, well…” He winced, pawing at the scar on the side of his face. “That didn’t end well. Stonestar recognized me and I was exposed. I got lost in the Town running from them, and it took me a while to find my way back to the territories. So, well, that’s about it. What questions do you have for me?”

“How often did Featherfall come by?” Briarmask asked immediately, leaning forward. “Was it on a schedule or was it random?”

“She came by four or five times in the two weeks I was really integrated, once every few days. Always at night, and she seemed to always come from a different direction. So consistent, but nothing was set in advance. She just kind of came by when she wanted.”

“How does she treat the cats under her?” That was Shadefur, head cocked to the side. “They have to be loyal for a reason, especially if you think they’re still sticking with her now.” Gorsestorm hummed.

“I’m not going to lie, she’s an excellent leader. Featherfall didn’t tolerate any disrespect towards her or to each other, especially between the mates. She clawed Rocky once when he cursed at Hazel, said that we could never achieve a goal if we couldn’t even get along amongst ourselves.” He let out a sigh. “I don’t know if it’s genuine, but she at least acts like she truly cares about the wellbeing of the cats that follow her. Playing with Hazel’s kits, making sure everyone got enough to eat, training them how to fight, getting to know their stories. From what I understand, that’s hard to come by in the Town. Well, that and she promised them territory in the forest if they were successful in helping her hurt the Clans.”

“I’m supposed to try and integrate into Rocky’s group.” Turtledove said, blue eyes anxious. “Do you think they’ll be suspicious after what happened with you?” Gorsestorm hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, not really, because you’re not going in as a Clan cat. If you announced yourself as a Thunderclanner, they would throw you out in a heartbeat. But Rocky was anxious about keeping their little group together, fretting about their numbers versus our numbers here in the Clans. He’s definitely logistically minded, and he doesn’t like uneven odds. I’m sure that’s even worse now that Crash is dead and Rocky’s kits are still too young at this point to learn to fight. If we’re right about a lot of cats abandoning Featherfall after the battle, Rocky is probably desperate for new recruits. I say as long as you can sell your loner act, you won’t have any problems with them.”

“What about cats outside of your group?” Littlesong suddenly piped up, looking interested. “Were they all loners? Or were there kittypets too? Why did they just pass through?”

“Well, there was the occasional kittypet, but I maybe saw two total approach Rocky, and he usually sent them on their way. There was one tom who stopped by a few times when I was there, I think his name was Whistle? Something like that?” Gorsestorm shook his head. “Anyway, he was older, and I think he led his own group. I didn’t start to suspect that until right before I got found out, though, so I didn’t get a chance to follow up.” He hesitated. “To be honest, I’m not too sure why they never stayed. They would always talk to Rocky and then leave, and I wasn’t in a position to know what they were talking about. If I had to guess, they would probably be other cats recruited by Featherfall, maybe part of their own groups and such.” Littlesong looked a little disappointed, but what could you do. With nothing else to ask, it was time to move on to the next part- learning their cover stories.

“My name is Dandelion,” Littlesong introduced himself. “I’m from a different part of the Town, or maybe another Town entirely. I was born on the street, but was taken in by humans as a kitten. I lived with the same humans until they took me to a new house, the one I live in now. I’m unhappy there and I want to try to return to the street, but I’m afraid to be alone in an unfamiliar place. That’s why I’m looking to join a colony instead.” Simple and to the point. That’s good. Turtledove looked nervous, tail twitching and eyes darting about, but her voice was steady, if a little quiet.

“My name is Turtle,” she murmured. “I was born on the street. I lived with my parents and brothers. I was picked up by a human and taken to their house, but I escaped soon after. I’m now in a new part of Town and I don’t know how to get home. I’m looking to join a group since I’m unfamiliar with the area and scared to be alone.” She cleared her throat, looking a little less nervous. “I’m also going to see if someone can ‘help me get home.’ Shadefur and Tulipstem taught me about a different area of Town that’s kind of far from Rocky’s territory that I’m pretending to be from. If they know cats actually from that area, they might mention it.” Shadefur nodded.

“If they’re reconnecting with other groups, or finding new ones, we want to know.” He said. “We’re trying to cover as much territory as possible here.”

“Makes sense,” Gorsestorm agreed. "And those stories sound perfectly plausible to me, not that I’m the expert here. But it definitely sounds like the stories I heard while I was there.” Taken by humans, abandoned by humans, separated from family… the life of a Town cat was difficult, that’s for sure.

“Alright then,” Briarmask announced. “Time for some more training. We’re taking these two out with the apprentices to learn some sneaking techniques. Want to come?” While Gorsestorm wanted nothing more than to curl up and take a nap, it would be stupid to pass on a chance to learn stealth from a Shadowclanner. Not that they would teach any secret techniques or whatever, but their basics were probably a lot more advanced than Windclan’s.

“Sure thing,” he said, thankfully not sounding sarcastic, and followed them out of the den and into the mire.

______________________________________________________________

Gorsestorm did learn a lot, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. On the way back, the Shadowclanners told him they wouldn’t bother seeking out meeting spots until during the day- most Town cats were active exclusively at night, which meant they shouldn’t be spotted. Except by kittypets, and they can usually be intimidated into silence, Briarmask had mewed mischievously. Or bribed. Gorsestorm had gratefully collapsed into the nest they had made for him, not even bothered by the strangers pressing up against him. Typically he’d be annoyed, as in Windclan the warriors den was actually a series of burrows with plenty of space to spread out, but now he was too tired to care. What he was annoyed by was the cheerful little tortoiseshell who woke him at the crack of dawn.

“Hey, Mr. Windclanner, time to get up!” She chirped, unafraid to start poking him in the ribs, which was bold, in his opinion. Shadowclanners have no manners. He picked up his head, happy in a annoyed way to see he was still taller than her lying down than she was standing. Gorsestorm pinned her with an unimpressed look that she seemed immune to. “My name is Emberpaw, I’m Crowcall’s apprentice!”

“We met last night.” He deadpanned. The little molly had seemed like a pawful, easily distracted and running Crowcall ragged. Briarmask had said it was good for him.

“Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway!” She quickly recovered, puffing herself up. “Nightrock from Thunderclan is here to talk to you. Crowcall said I was the best at waking cats up, so he sent me to tell you.” Of course he did. Gorsestorm liked Crowcall, since the tom was easygoing and friendly enough to be liked by anyone, but he was ready to cuff him. Siccing his apprentice on me, he grumbled to himself, as he stood and shook the moss from his pelt. The nerve of some cats. Emberpaw cheerfully bounded out of the den, Gorsestorm dragging tail behind her, and over to where her mentor was sitting with another black tom. It was funny that they could look so different, despite having the same fur length and color. Nightrock was stoic looking, with serious gray eyes, immaculately groomed fur, and rigid posture. He stood about half a head taller than Crowcall, the scars littering his face only adding to the appearance of a battle hardened warrior. Crowcall, with his shaggy fur, permanent half smile, gleaming copper eyes, and proclivity to recline more than sit, looked like a rogue. The difference between Thunderclan and Shadowclan has never been more apparent. And then you had Gorsestorm, as tall as Nightrock but half as wide, long legged and wiry, large, rounded ears each almost the size of his head. There was a reason he stuck out in the Town, after all.

“Good morning,” Nightrock greeted cordially as Gorsestorm finally sat with a thump beside him. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I know preparations must be hectic.” You could say that.

“I feel like I have the least to do here,” Gorsestorm mewed instead, smiling with dry humor. “You’re coming here is giving me something productive to do, so I feel like I should thank you instead.” The Thunderclanner offered his own small smile.

“I understand that you will be meeting with the spies on a weekly basis. Do you intend for it to always be after the same amount of days, or on a case by case basis?”

“Case by case,” Gorsestorm replied. “If they are coming to meet me on too regular of a schedule, they could arouse suspicion. I was planning on arranging meetings as we go, no less than once a week, but more frequently if the situation calls for it.” By changing the meeting spot and time every time they met, they would hopefully not be suspected of anything. It was a tactic he had learned from Featherfall, and it had worked pretty well for her. Nightrock nodded.

“In that case, I will be sure to visit our own meeting spot several times a week. If you’d like to come along with me now, I can show you of where I was thinking.” Gorsestorm was not looking forward to all the walking he would do today- he was more of a sprinter than a long distance sort of guy- but there was nothing for it. Bidding his goodbyes to Crowcall and Emberpaw, who had been lurking around the edges of their conversation in a blatant attempt to eavesdrop, the two toms set out. As they padded along, Gorsestorm’s sleepy brain caught up to him, and he gave Nightrock a confused look.

“Aren’t we just going to meet at Fourtrees?” He asked, slowing to a stop. “That’s easiest for everyone.” He could hit it on the way home and everyone could meet at once instead of him having to travel to the Town via Shadowclan, then to Thunderclan, then to Riverclan. So why…”

“Yes, I assumed we would,” Nightrock said, also coming to a stop. The tom looked… sheepish? “I actually, um… wanted to ask you how Bluetail is doing. Snowdrift told me that you know of our, uh, situation.” Oh, right, that did make sense.

“Uh, she’s good,” he mewed, scrambling for something to say. It’s not like we’re best buddies, but Teaseltuft did love to talk. “Teaseltuft is happy with how the pregnancy is going, says it’ll probably be a moon before the kittens are born.” The Thunderclanner was hanging onto his every word, and Gorsestorm felt bad he didn’t have more to tell him. “I can let you know how she’s doing when we meet, if you’d like. I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you right now.”

“I’d be forever grateful,” Nightrock said, dipping his head. “Now, we can go to Fourtrees if you’d like. We can probably catch whomever Oakstar is sending on our way there, and let them know the plan.” Gorsestorm groaned internally but acquiesced, obediently trotting alongside the Thunderclanner. After he was done here it was back to Shadowclan, then to the Town border to pick out the other meeting spots, then probably more training…

It was going to be a long day.

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#warriors ocs #warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #my writing #wc pyrophyte #wc fanfic

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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER ONE

HERE WE GO AGAIN

Our new warrior is about to learn to be careful when making promises. Thankfully, she's not in too much trouble for it. Hopefully?

“Hey, Turtledove!” The calico molly looked up from where she had been trying to take a nap, struggling not to show her irritation. Owlfeather was running up to her, Rainstripe hot on his heels, and their obvious excitement was enough to make her soften. She could just nap later, anyway. I guess. Hopefully.

“What?” She asked, staring at the white blaze on Rainstripe’s forehead. She could just see the way his blue eyes, so similar to hers, crinkled in a smile.

“Amberpelt is having her kittens now,” he mewed, kneading the ground excitedly. “Maybe she’ll have three, and then when they’re old enough, we can be their mentors! Wouldn’t that be fun?” Turtledove rolled her eyes with a smile, flopping back down onto her side.

“We were only just made warriors, you know. They’d probably make Cloudclaw and the rest from that class mentors before us.” Owlfeather threw himself down beside her with a chuff, Rainstripe content to stay standing, tail still lashing happily.

“Turtle, you forget our advantage. You were Mintstar’s apprentice! And you helped save the forest! Surely that entails some exceptions. And we, as your loyal and loving brothers, can be lumped in as well!” Turtledove muttered something to the effect of a denial, now staring up at the golden evening sky above her. It had been two moons since that final battle, and things were, well. Not normal, but not terrible either. No progress had been made in finding Featherfall, the molly disappearing into the Town like a ghost. Shadowclan had been trying all their contacts, but anyone who had allied with Featherfall had similarly disappeared, heading deeper into the Town to avoid any more conflict with the Clans. Things were about to change on that front, however. Now that the weather was turning favorably and prey was returning in droves, the Clans could finally concentrate more effort into hunting Featherfall instead of food. At least, that’s what Mintstar said.

Her old mentor had taken to being leader like a duck to water, and together with Whitefoot had ensured Thunderclan survived the worst of winter without further tragedy. Turtledove and her brother’s warrior’s ceremony this past moon had been a huge to do, being the first ceremony Mintstar had performed as leader. I wanted to ask you about your name, her then mentor had said, the same afternoon that the three apprentices had completed their assessments. I know it’s not traditional, but I was thinking of naming you Turtledove. For the peace you helped bring, and the hope the Clan has for peace in the future. Now, the Clan was living boldly, and spring was looking to be busy. Amberpelt was currently having kits, and Dovecall would be having her litter sometime in the next moon. It was nice to see new life after so much death, and Turtledove couldn’t help but share in her brother’s excitement. Even if we don’t become mentors this time, she thought, it will still be fun to have more kits in the Clan.

“Where is Mintstar, anyway?” Owlfeather asked, nudging his sister in that pesky way of his. “She still has to announce who’s going to the Gathering tonight. We’re gonna get picked, right?” Turtledove huffed.

“I don’t know why you think I’m Mintstar’s flea,” she complained. “I don’t know where she is or what she’s thinking every minute, you know.” A pause. “But she’s talking with Snowdrift now, and yeah, we’ve been picked to go tonight.” The two toms cheered, and Turtledove couldn’t help her happy grin. “I hope Loudpaw and Beetlepaw are there. They’ve probably got their names by now too!”

The siblings passed a pleasant while like that, chatting and laughing and discussing what might happen at the Gathering that night. It would be the second since the battle, and they hadn’t gone to the last one, you know, sitting vigil instead, so it was even more exciting to be going tonight. Eventually, though, Rainstripe parted for a hunting patrol, then Owlfeather for the dusk patrol, and Turtledove, having gone on patrols that morning, was left to hopefully have a short nap before it was time to leave. Once again, she was interrupted, but this time by Mintstar, so she didn’t roll her eyes.

“Turtledove, would you mind coming to my den with me? I’d like to speak with you about some plans for tonight.” Turtledove nodded quickly, anticipation washing away any tiredness she might feel. Owlfeather and Rainstripe do have a point I guess, she mused as she followed Mintstar into her den. Mintstar usually fills me in on whatever is going on. The calico couldn’t help but be proud about the trust her leader placed in her, and pushed herself every day to honor that trust, and show everyone that it was well placed. Be a ‘model Thunderclan warrior,’ like her father had always impressed upon them. Now, if only I could grow to actually look like a Thunderclan warrior, that would be swell. She was still at least a half a head shorter than her average clanmate, even Flystorm, which was kind of embarrassing. The hope for a growth spurt dimmed every day, but crazier things had happened. “Tonight,” Mintstar began, snapping Turtledove from a daydream where she stood taller than Snowdrift, “I will be meeting with the other leaders for a little bit after the Gathering announcements. It’s time to start really looking for Featherfall.” Turtledove couldn’t help but tense at the sound of the molly’s name. She wouldn’t lie- Featherfall terrified her.

“Do you have any idea on how to do that?” She asked, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “I know Shadowclan hasn’t had any luck.”

“The problem is that the Shadowclan warriors are too recognizable. Any Town cat who may know of Featherfall or still be loyal to her are likely to avoid them or be unwilling to help. We need cats going in who won’t be recognized.” Turtledove nodded.

“Oh, so like a spy thing. That makes sense.”

“Exactly. The other leaders and I have worked out a plan. It will involve sending cats into the Town posing as loners and such, in order to build credibility. Those cats will then find where Featherfall is, so that we might bring her to trial.” Yeah, that’s an even better idea. But…

“Well, you’ll need to make sure no rogues who were in our camp could recognize the cats you choose,” Turtledove cautioned.

“Right. That leaves few to choose from.”

“And they’ll need to be pretty sneaky- they’ll be spying, after all.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“And they’ll need to be able to take care of themselves, too. It will be difficult to like, hunt or fight by yourself in a strange place…”

“I would have to choose someone very capable, yes.” Turtledove blinked worriedly.

“It’ll be hard to find a cat who fits all those criteria.” The calico was confused when all Mintstar did was smile, before a terrible suspicion began to build in her gut. She narrowed her eyes at that all-too-pleased grin.

“Turtledove,” Mintstar said placidly, “do you remember when you promised to do whatever you could to help?”

______________________________________________________________

What a manipulator. A swindler. I cannot believe she would do this to me. Turtledove was pouting, yes, but in all fairness, she was in a bind. Mintstar wanted her? Turtledove? The Turtledove, who couldn’t look a cat in the eye, and said the wrong thing, like, more than half the time, and very much disliked being around strangers, thank you, to go play super spy in the Town? By herself?

“This is why you don’t make promises to do ‘whatever you can,’ Turtle.” She murmured to herself, slinking along behind her brothers as they made their way to Fourtrees. “Trouble. Nothing but trouble.” Worst of all, there was a little… spark, a tenuous, tiny ball of excitement in her chest, that tried very insistently to say that this would be an awesome adventure. The part of her that enjoyed sneaking, and doing cool things like investigating a murder, and showing everyone that yes, the Turtledove was capable and amazing and was more than the awkward kit they all saw her as, that part of her, was tumbling around in glee. Things with her clanmates had been a bit better since the battle, it was true, but maybe, if she could pull this off, and help bring Featherfall to justice, then her parents would stop babying her and everyone would respect her and maybe even genuinely like her instead of tolerate her and… yeah. Yeah, that would all be really great.

So yes, she was annoyed, but if she were honest, she was also terribly excited.

They arrived at the hollow then, and when Turtledove sniffed the air, she could only smell Shadowclan. Good, maybe Loudpaw and Beetlepaw are here. Mintstar paused for a moment, bringing everyone to a stop, then waited another beat before nodding to signal that they could move in. Mood drastically improved, Turtledove raced down the slope, outpacing her brothers, who cried out as she slipped between them, and down into a cluster of Shadowclanners. They nodded agreeably to her as she wove through them, which she returned with her own jerky greetings, and quite quickly she found the two cats she was looking for. Loudpaw and Beetlepaw were sitting near Browntail, laughing together about something. Loudpaw perked up when he saw her coming, cheering as she walked up.

“Turtle! Tell me you have a name to match ours,” he demanded, Beetlepaw shooting her a grin.

“Yeah, Turtle, we’ll tell you ours if you tell us yours!”

“Turtledove! Uh, my name, it’s Turtledove now.” The calico wouldn’t lie, she was a little nervous that they would find her name silly, or weird, or say something like Mintstar couldn’t come up with good names. To her relief, they nodded, seeming pleased. Loudpaw smiled brightly.

“It suits you!” The dark gray tom declared, puffing out his chest. “Just like Loudstorm suits me!”

“And I’m Beetlewhisker now! I have to say, though, it doesn’t flow as well as your names do.” The molly shrugged, her grin taking on a mischievous tilt. “Although, I heard a rumor that Loudstorm was supposed to have a different name…” Turtledove leaned forward with interest, deftly ignoring the tom’s protests and denials. “Ma told me that Rosestar was whining to her about Loud’s name. ‘Come on Snakepelt,’” Beetlewhisker huffed in a surprisingly accurate imitation of her leader, “’You had to come up with a difficult name, huh? What am I supposed to call the boy, exactly? Loudfur? Loudcloud? Loudmouth?’” Turtledove was outright cackling now, and even Browntail, who had been silent up to this point, let out a chuckle. Loudstorm was hissing and batting at his sister, furiously denying any such occurrence.

“Well, at least he didn’t name you Loudmouth,” Turtledove snickered, and nearly jumped straight in the air when she felt something bump against her back. Distracted as she was, she hadn’t noticed Windclan and Riverclan’s arrival in the now crowded hollow, cats weaving through the crowd to look for friends or clanmates. She recognized the tom who had accidentally knocked into her when he turned to offer a quick apology for spooking her, the yellow one from the Long Night Gathering performance. He disappeared before she could respond, and she was quick to turn back to her friends, now teasing her for being so jumpy. Loudstorm had found it funny to startle her, way back when she was staying at their camp, and was happy to divert the conversation away from his new name and towards Turtledove’s jumpiness. Browntail had disappeared at some point, and Turtledove was in the middle of telling Loudstorm to go jump in the river when the Gathering was called.

“Let this Gathering begin!” Shalestar, of course. The gray leader stood tall alongside her fellows, looking more lean now than scrawny. Looks like everyone is starting to do better. “I am happy to share some excellent news with you all tonight. This past half-moon, our medicine cat received her full name- Teaseltuft!” Turtledove happily cheered the molly’s new name, just able to see where the medicine cat was bashfully nodding her thanks. Splashpaw, beside her, whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. “I am also pleased to announce that Daisypetal and Oatfur have had three healthy daughters- Sorrelkit, Fennelkit, and Rushkit!” More cheers, this time briefer, and Shalestar gave an accepting nod before stepping back. “Aside from that, no news to report.”

“I’ll go next, then!” Rosestar mewed, not giving the other two leaders a chance to speak. “We welcome two new warriors into our midst- Loudstorm and Beetlewhisker!” There’s going to be a lot of cheering tonight, Turtledove thought. Thunderclan has our names and Amberpelt’s kits, and then if Riverclan has anybody to name… “No activity from the Town, and no word about any trouble brewing. We will, of course, let you all know if anything develops.” Disappointing, but expected at this point. There was a reason the Clans were resorting to spies and the like to investigate now. Oakstar and Mintstar looked at each other, the old tom nodding deferentially to the patched molly. She dipped her own head in thanks before stepping up to speak. She looks so much smaller without her tail. Still intimidating, though.

“Thunderclan is also pleased to announce three new warriors. We welcome Owlfeather, Rainstripe, and Turtledove!” Being on the receiving end of the cheers was quite nerve wracking, Turtledove doing her best to shrink behind Loudstorm, who merely stepped aside with a laugh, the traitor. Mercifully, Mintstar moved on quickly. “Amberpelt also gave birth this morning. Ancestor’s willing, I will have two kits to announce next Gathering.” Her brothers had been disappointed that there were only two, before quickly getting into an argument over which of them would get one, since let’s face it, Turtle, if any of us get one it’s going to be you. Really, it would probably be a question of whether Tigerwhisker or Stripestream got one, but what did she know? “Other than that, it has been peaceful in the forest.” Finally, Oakstar took his place at the front.

“Riverclan has one new warrior to welcome- Ripplepool!” Turtledove almost felt bad for the molly, as the Clans seemed to be getting tired of cheering by now, but they still gave a few rousing cries of her name before trailing off. “And, finally, we welcome Lavenderfur and Sunsplash’s kits, Blossomkit and Galekit!” Finally indeed. But it was that time of year, apparently, and it was likely the next Gathering or two would see a wave of new kits, apprentices, and warriors. “Now, since it’s such a pleasant evening, we will end the announcements here. Enjoy your time together.” With that the leaders jumped back down, and conversations started up again all around them. Quickly, though, Mintstar appeared from nowhere, looming over Loudstorm, who was now bragging about allegedly fighting a badger all by himself.

“Impressive, young tom,” Mintstar hummed, and the tom in question nearly jumped out of his fur, having not heard her come up. Turtledove couldn’t help but laugh at that, sticking out her tongue when Loudstorm gave her a dirty look. Beetlewhisker snickered about payback while Turtledove flicked a questioning ear at Mintstar. “Turtledove, I hate to pull you from your friends, but there’s some cats I would like you to speak with.” The calico nodded, headbutting her friends goodbye and waving a tail to their well wishes as she disappeared into the crowd. Mintstar lead her over to a spot near one of the Oaks, where the leaders, deputies, medicine cats, and a few other warriors were gathered. There was the yellow Riverclan tom, a Windclan tom she was pretty sure was Shalestar’s relation, and Shadefur, who she actually recognized. The other leaders nodded as Turtledove and Mintstar came up, taking a seat next to Whitefoot and Snowdrift.

“Excellent,” Shalestar said, giving them all a smile. “I’m sure everyone knows, but we gather to finish planning our hunt for Featherfall in the Town. After discussion with the other leaders, we have decided to send two cats into the Town to pose as a loner and a kittypet, supported by warriors from Shadowclan and a representative from Windclan.” She cast a look at the tom next to her, who cleared his throat.

“I… did some reconnaissance in the Town, back when Featherfall and Stonestar were active. I tried to join their group but did not attempt to hide that I was a Clan cat, not that I very well could.” He flicked an overly large ear. “I was in their confidence for a couple of weeks and learned about how they operated, at least on a small-scale level. They had what I thought was a single gang at their beck and call, but we know now that they had multiple. That being said, I would be happy to offer my help when it comes to the cats themselves and how Featherfall ran things. Some of these cats were very loyal to Featherfall- I’m sure that hasn’t changed.” Rosestar jumped in.

“Unfortunately, my warriors are too well known, so they cannot be seen interacting with our chosen spies lest the Town cats see and become suspicious. Instead, we will be happy to host the spies for a while before they go in, to teach them about the Town and help them learn to blend in better. We will also maintain our presence in the Town should anything go wrong and our assistance is needed.” All of this is sounding perfectly reasonable, Turtledove mused, but who’s going to be the kittypet? It better not be me.

“Now, for said spies.” Oakstar rumbled. “Littlesong here will be posing as a kittypet. He will be staying with one of Shadowclan’s contacts in the Town in order to support this story.” Oh, thank the ancestors. Turtledove couldn’t help but feel bad for the tom, though. He definitely looked a little put out. I couldn’t stand being near a twoleg, though. So probably better he gets to deal with it- Riverclanner’s aren’t afraid of them, right?

“Turtledove will be going in as a loner,” Mintstar said, and the calico tried not to shrink away from all the eyes that landed on her. “The goal will be for you two to cover different parts and social spheres of the Town. From what we know, the group Gorsestorm was most familiar with is located near Thunderclan territory. They were her most loyal followers, and likely are still in touch with her. Turtledove will be charged with infiltrating that group and sniffing out the connection to Featherfall. The place Littlesong is staying is further into the Town. We hope that Featherfall might have relocated close to there, since we know she has been seen in that area at least once. In a few days, Littlesong and Turtledove will go to Shadowclan, where they will establish their cover stories and begin their new sort of training about the Town.”

“Gorsestorm will be travelling to Shadowclan as well and staying there for part of the training. Afterwards, he will be travelling to the Town once a week to check in with Turtledove and Littlesong so they can report any information they have learned.” Shalestar mewed. “We do not want you two having any contact with your home Clans lest anyone see or smell the resemblance. Since a Windclanner would stick out too much, we will instead offer our services in a supporting role. Now, we hope to have this situation resolved as quickly as possible, but must plan for it to take a while, even moons.” Moons? In the Town? By myself? This was suddenly not as exciting.

“Town cats are… not the most trusting,” Rosestar explained with grimace. “It might take a while to integrate into a group, and then even longer before they trust you completely. The first goal is just to be accepted. The second goal is to learn something helpful. Remember, this will require patience and dedication from all of us. We will only get this one opportunity to fool these cats. If someone’s cover is blown, there is a chance they could warn Featherfall and she’ll disappear forever.” Ok, she had been nervous before, but now there was a yawning pit in her stomach and this didn’t really sound like fun anymore- Turtledove cast a desperate glance at Mintstar, a little relieved to see the molly looked unimpressed.

“My mother will not simply throw away her goals upon discovery. Even if these cats were to be found out, I feel she would only accelerate whatever her plan is, not abandon it completely. Of course, we do not want that either, so discretion is paramount. I fear that with the turn in the weather, Featherfall is also preparing to enact whatever her next idea is. We must try and prevent that from happening.” Rosestar is so dramatic. Or, well, hopefully he’s just being dramatic. What Mintstar says sounds much more reasonable, anyway. The pointed tom didn’t contest this point, merely nodded, and Shadefur hesitantly opened his mouth.

“We felt it best to assign… mentors, of sorts, to really help you two prepare for your time in the Town. Littlesong, Briarmask and Crowcall will be helping you, since they’re familiar with the part of Town you’ll be in. Turtledove, my mate is from the area you’ll be going to. She and I will be the ones helping you prepare.” That was good. Turtledove liked Shadefur, the tom calm and understanding but not wishy washy. Tulipstem was really timid, but so was Turtledove, of course, so they got along in that sense. She felt a little better knowing they were going to be the ones getting her ready.

“In three days, you will travel to Shadowclan, so make sure you spend time with your family and friends. It might be a while before you see them again.” Shalestar advised, and on that light note, the group all bid their goodbyes. Mintstar dismissed Turtledove back to her friends, and as the calico padded her way back over to where they were gathered, she couldn’t help the anxious beating of her heart.

Can I really do this?

______________________________________________________________

Three days later, it was time to find out. Turtledove sat in the nearly empty camp clearing, the sun just starting to rise. She had struggled to fall asleep last night- she was still just a little unused to her new nest, and now she was going to have to adjust to another new nest. I feel like I’m never going to sleep again. They wouldn’t be going to meet the others until after the sun rose, but the calico wanted a moment to herself before she was inevitably swarmed with goodbyes from her parents and siblings. They were less than happy that she was leaving, except her father of course, who was strutting around camp and bragging like she had hung the moon, but, well, Badger- or, Tornleg, now, was just like that. Turtledove was pulled from her musings when she saw Snowdrift pad from his den, humming to himself as he crossed the clearing towards the nursery. Catching sight of the warrior, he changed direction towards her, approaching with a smile and a friendly blink.

“Morning, Turtle,” he said brightly, as if it weren’t the crack of dawn. “Up early, hm? I guess you do have a big day. How are you feeling about it?” She may not be meeting regularly with Snowdrift anymore, having a much more solid grasp on how to handle the things that gave her so much anxiety, but he did still check up on her regularly.

“Nervous, and excited, and very scared. I don’t wanna mess this up.” She murmured, staring at his paws. He didn’t mind when she didn’t look at him when speaking, and she would take advantage of it now. He was silent for a moment, probably nodding in that thoughtful way of his.

“Can I tell you something?” She twitched an ear. “Even if you do mess this up, it’ll still be ok.” She couldn’t help but glance up at him in surprise. Everyone had been telling her they knew she could do it, but that was also scary, because how disappointed would they be when or if she failed- “Like Mintstar said, Featherfall is committed to seeing this through, and any bit that you can do or learn will be helpful. So, even if you did get found out, we’ll still be in a better place than we are now.” He gave her a kind flick with his tail. “And anyway, I don’t think it’ll come to that. I know it’s hard to believe you can do this. I felt the same way when I received the omen and all. But remember this- when you doubt yourself, think about how Mintstar and I and everyone else trusts you, and believes you’ll be successful. Do you think we have bad judgement?” Turtledove furiously shook her head. “Good. If you don’t trust yourself, trust us, and do your best. Now, I was actually going to see about doing the kit blessing for Amberpelt and Ashleaf. If you wait outside the nursery, I’ll tell you what the kits names are when I’m done. Sound good?” And yeah, that did sound good. The names wouldn’t be announced to the Clan until after the blessing, bad luck and all that, which meant besides Snowdrift and the parents, Turtledove would be the first to know. And maybe her time in Shadowclan had rubbed off on her, because being the first to know sounded delightful. Turtledove obediently trotted after her medicine cat and reclined outside the entrance to the nursery, happy to distract herself with identifying the different birdsong. Robin, bluebird, thrush…

As the sun really started to shine in the clearing, Snowdrift wiggled his way out of the nursery, wincing as thorns scratched at his pelt. Turtledove bounced to her feet, looking at him expectedly. He snorted, but it was fond.

“Applekit for the tom, Sagekit for the molly, of course.” He said, and Turtledove nodded happily. It was to be expected that they would’ve named one kit after Sagefur. She knew some Clans didn’t like naming kits after dead family, but it was just the thing to do in Thunderclan. It was an honor, to carry on a name, and to have the blessing of your namesake. Her own brother was named after their uncle Owlwing, who had passed of some illness as a young warrior. Owlfeather would be blessed by his special protection, just like Sagekit would now be protected by her aunt.

“Turtle!” And speaking of… Her brothers had finally woken up, and now insisted on escorting her over to the elder’s den so they could wait for their dad to wake up, Aspenwing trailing over after them. It was nice, to spend this time with everybody. Rainstripe and Owlfeather swatted at each other in their excitement, insisting on showing her some last minute moves they had come up with to help her out. Aspenwing fretted, reminding her to watch out for rats and rogues and, stars forbid, strange toms. Tornleg sat there with his chest puffed out, giving her a gentle cuff around the ears and an atta girl, telling her he just knew she’d make them all proud. When Mintstar emerged from her den to make her way over, the morning sun bright and full and signaling that it was time to head out, Turtledove was suddenly overwhelmed with the desperate feeling of I don’t want to go. She wanted to stay in camp, and go hunting with her brothers, or share tongues with her mom, or see if maybe Tigerwhisker would wanna go look for feathers or something, the molly had been becoming something like a friend, lately, since they were the youngest mollies in the warriors den, you know, and she wanted to have a molly friend, not just her brothers, or maybe she could join Snowdrift in looking for herbs-

“Turtledove.” She looked wildly up at Mintstar. Her leader placed a solid paw on her shoulder. “It’s time to go. Are you ready?” No, no I’m really- And then something Snowdrift told her about came back to her, and she took a deep breath.

She could see the smiling faces of her family, Minstar, solid and secure as ever, the pride in their eyes, the brilliant blue sky, the way the morning sun dappled the camp. She could feel the night cold sand beneath her feet, the cool spring breeze in her fur, Mintstar’s comforting paw on her shoulder, the nerves fluttering in her gut. She could hear all her beautiful birds, her clanmates chatting as they slipped from their dens, the new leaves rustling. She could smell the familiar oak, the warm scent of prey carried on the breeze.

She could taste the anticipation snapping on her tongue.

“I think so.”

Travelling to Shadowclan was both familiar and foreign. The last time she had come this way it had been snowy and miserable, and for part of it she had also been running for her life and desperately trying to keep Snowdrift alive as well, so it really couldn’t compare to this nice spring jaunt she was on now. There was only a bit of snow left, with most of it melted into puddles and mud. The breeze was cold, but the sun was warm, and she couldn’t help but enjoy herself. All to soon they were at the road, and although they knew about the tunnel now, Mintstar said they were going to cross normally out of respect to Shadowclan. Sitting here peacefully with Mintstar was also much nicer than sitting with Stonestar had been, and Turtledove was content to wait in an easy silence. Not for too long, though, since Shadowclan knew they were coming, and before long two cats appeared across the road, waving them over quickly. Now Turtledove just did the best she could to block out those memories, of that day on the road, and the fur on her spine prickled, waiting for heavy paws to slam into her back-

And then they were across, Blackear and Bluebird comforting in their familiarity, and they chatted amiably with Mintstar as Turtledove trailed along behind them. She wasn’t super paying attention to their conversation, but she was listening intently for the birds, which is what alerted her to the barely there sound of someone creeping through the undergrowth near them- try as they might, they couldn’t help the quiet squelching of the mud pulling at everyone’s feet. Trying to act casual, she dropped back a little further, acting like she was intrigued with a fern unfurling nearby, but really, she was straining to hear, and yes, now they were sneaking up behind her…

When her assailant leapt, she was ready, rolling to the side and immediately throwing herself at where they had landed, unbalanced. They went tumbling, and then she was snarling down at Loudstorm, who was trying to laugh but was too winded to do so properly.

“Good job,” he wheezed. “Passed your first test.” A test? Blackear, Bluebird, and Mintstar had stopped, approval written across their faces as she glanced over at them. I… guess that makes sense. Still, she couldn’t help but tease as she stepped off her friend.

“Whatever Rosestar says, your mother gave you a good name.” She said. “I could hear you coming a mile away.” Loudstorm hissed in mock offense, bapping her repeatedly on the head before she ducked away, laughing. They continued on, the two young warriors trying to shake the mud out of their fur, and soon they came to the now fading familiarity of the log nest that made up Shadowclan’s camp. Beetlewhisker was waiting outside, calling a cheery greeting as they walked up, and seeming very pleased with the muddy streaks in her brother’s fur.

“I knew you’d get him,” she praised, and Turtledove couldn’t help but puff up a bit. Together they pushed their way into camp, where the calico was immediately swarmed by kittens.

“Turtle’s back! Turtle’s back!” They cried, and Turtledove couldn’t help but collapse with an oof under the combined weight of Mumblekit, Scratchkit, and Beekit. They were about five moons old now, and getting very big, which meant they were almost as big as she was, regrettably. Their three siblings, as well as Lichenkit, Graykit, and Newtkit, pranced around her, speaking over each other and generally being loud. Ears twitching, she pushed as gently as she could, trying to struggle through the fur and wiggly bodies to stand again, and was mercifully saved by the appearance of Tulipstem.

“Come on, kits, she can’t say hello to you if you smother her.” Crazy as they were, they were at least obedient, and they quickly clambered off her, Scratchkit using the tender gap between her ribs as a launching point. Wincing, she finally stood up, blinking gratefully at the queen. “It is good to see you, Turtle. Even if the circumstances are… less than ideal.”

“You too, Tulip. Uh, I mean, it’s good to see you, not that you’re less than ideal.” Tulipstem smiled, whiskers twitching in amusement, and waved her tail.

“Of course. I’m sure Rosestar would like to greet you, but then you can come and find me and Shade when you’re ready to start.” I wonder what exactly this will entail. Probably lots of verbal instruction, but if her first test was anything to go by, there would be some practical skills to go over as well. Turtledove bid goodbye to the disappointed kittens and trotted off after Mintstar, who now sat with Rosestar and Marshfoot.

“Good morning, young warrior,” Rosestar purred, seeming to be in a cheery mood. Probably happy something is getting done. I’m sure he hasn’t been pleased with the lack of progress. It had been a bit of a culture shock, going from Thunderclan, with the emphasis on respect and the Code and being a model warrior, to Shadowclan, who were undeniably dedicated to the Code, just… in a more relaxed way. Senior warriors joked with young warriors, apprentices snarked with elders, and kittens were lovingly entertained by everybody. Turtledove loved her family and her Clan, but she couldn’t deny it was nice to not have to worry about saying the wrong thing to a senior warrior and getting cuffed for it. Like right now- she wouldn’t have been caught dead in front of Stonestar or a senior warrior with a muddy pelt. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

“Good morning, Rosestar, thank you for hosting us.” That being said, she knew how to be polite. “And good morning to you too, Marshfoot. I’m glad to see the kittens look well.” The deputy bragged about her nieces and nephew like they were her own- Loudstorm said that if the molly ever had kittens, she’d probably be insufferable.

“Of course, you’re doing all of us a favor.” The pointed tom hummed. “Now, you know the basics, but here’s the rest. Tulipstem and Shadefur will instruct you in the customs of the Town, as well as how to fight like a rogue and how to navigate. You will be responsible for coming up with your own cover story based on what you learn, and with their help- it’ll be easier for you to remember than if we just came up with something for you, as well as be much more organic and thus more believable. Make sense?” She nodded. “Good. The goal is to have you in the Town before the half-moon, which gives us about ten days to prepare. If you work it out before, great. We’ll send you in earlier. Time is of the essence, after all.” Notice how he didn’t say anything about if it takes me longer than ten days. Rosestar looked at Mintstar. “While we have nothing specific, activity in the Town is picking up. If Featherfall is planning something new, she’ll be making a move soon. We will be increasing patrols and Fernfire is being assigned a personal guard again.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Mintstar said. “We will be keeping our guard up as well. I would also like to reiterate that Thunderclan is an ally to all the Clans right now. Please feel free to send a runner should anything come up.” Not that this wasn’t important, but Turtledove was getting bored. If she had ten days or less to turn herself into a convincing loner, then she needed to get started as soon as possible. She shifted restlessly, accidentally brushing up against Mintstar, who cast her an amused glance. “Alright, then. I will leave Turtledove in your capable paws. Turtle.” The calico focused on the blip of brown right above Mintstar’s nose. “I am very proud of you, and I am confident in your success. Remember, even when you’re in the Town, you can always rely on your Clan.” With that, the brown and white molly bid her goodbyes, trotting back out of the camp and out of sight. Rosestar dismissed Turtledove to her new mentors, who were sitting together outside the nursery, looking over to her expectantly. She quickly padded over to them, whiskers starting to tremble in anticipation. This is it. It’s really happening.

“Alright,” Shadefur said, “We’re getting right into it, so don’t worry about your coat. The first thing we’re going to do…”

When she collapsed into her new nest that night, Turtledove’s head was spinning and her paws were aching but stars, if she wasn’t thrilled. They had taken her out to spar, to see how to tweak her fighting style away from the rigid Clan forms to the more slapdash style of a loner. Thankfully, because of her size, she had learned a slightly unorthodox Thunderclan style, one that wouldn’t stick out too much to a Town cat. It relied more on being quick and clever rather than Thunderclan’s typical ‘beat it until it can’t move’ style. Shadefur had merely told her to fight dirtier, as Town cats didn’t have the same code of honor when it came to a fight, but that the moves she knew would be perfect. They had then taken her to the Dump and begun an introductory course on edible human garbage, something she had very much disliked and was not looking forward to continuing with. Thankfully, with the spring it wasn’t as likely that she’d have to resort to digging through trash for food, but apparently you never knew. Plus, it was just another thing a loner would know, so she would need to know. Finally, they had brought her back to camp, and Tulipstem had begun teaching her all the vocabulary she would need, like how they weren’t twolegs, they were humans, and it wasn’t kittypets or crow food or gangs, but house cats and roadkill and colonies. The Riverclanner had apparently shown up when she was out at the Dump, but now was sprawled out in a nest near hers, already asleep. I wonder what he’ll have to learn, she mused sleepily, snorting as Beetlewhisker shoved a paw into her side and Loudstorm decided to use her hip as a headrest for his big heavy head. Her earlier nerves had dissipated, more confident now that she had gotten a taste of what she would learn and realized she could handle it.

Maybe I won’t mess this up after all.

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#warriors ocs #warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #my writing #wc pyrophyte #wc fanfic

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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: PROLOGUE

PLOTTING

When Turtlepaw promised to do whatever she could to help bring the last murderer to justice, this was not what she had in mind. Can the newly named warrior survive on her own in the Town? Even more pressing, can she survive cooperating with the only cat willing to help her? Gorsestorm really didn't expect things to go this far. A new apprentice, a new cat in the Clan, and a new pressure to "settle down" are more than enough to keep him busy, but now Shalestar also wants him heading the group dedicated to hunting down their worst enemy. Great. Littlesong doesn't feel like he's qualified to do this, but apparently he's the best they've got. Which, honestly, isn't exactly the vote of confidence he was looking for. Either way, he's stuck playing kittypet until this all gets figured out. At least he gets to see Piketail more often. Emberpaw isn't really supposed to be a part of this, but she's the only one who can see the ghosts AND speak to them. That's got to count for something, right? Right? After the deadly winter comes a tense spring, their enemy poised to strike and the Clans desperate to stop her before she does. Can they handle the coming fire? *SEQUEL TO OVERGROWTH*

It was a quiet night in the Town, but by no means still. Dozens of cats slunk through alley ways and side streets, eyes illuminated only by the yellowed light of the streetlamps. The many puddles dotting the streets offered watery reflections of their surroundings, occasionally disturbed by the dripping snowmelt that seemed to roll off every available surface. It was late enough that very few twolegs were about, allowing the Town residents to hunt or sneak or just live in peace, if only for a little while.

In one neglected alleyway, unused and ignored by most, a gang was gathered.

Three cats sat on a perilous stack of rotting crates, watching impassively the fight below them. Two young cats sparred in the slush, coats damp and eyes bright, trying to listen to the instructions being shouted at them by a scowling tom. In the next moment, one of the fighters took advantage of his opponent’s distraction, lashing out with a twisted paw to trip her. The molly stumbled, unable to recover in enough time to fend off the tom’s next attack, and she went sprawling into a particularly icy pile of muck. The scowling tom was snarling now, berating the molly as she struggled to right herself, paws sliding through the slush. Atop the crate, a tabby tom snorted.

“Well, Twist seems to be coming along decently. Lilac, however…”

The grizzled tom beside him glared, but was silent. The molly between them let out a considering hum.

“Twist didn’t just go a through a difficult birth. But yes, Lilac could use some… extra instruction. See to it that she gets it, Whistler. And tell Bear that if I ever hear him speak to his mate like that again, I’ll take his tongue.” The older tom murmured an affirmative, the dark gray molly then dismissing him with a flick of her tail. He dropped down from the crate with a thud, collecting the other three cats before disappearing into the night. For a moment it was quiet, only the occasional drip or splash echoing softly through the alley. The tabby tom shifted.

“If I may speak.” A nod. “Even if every cat we have is a master in fighting, we still don’t have nearly enough fighters to challenge the clans again. It’s spring now, or near enough. No one is hungry enough to join up again, especially after that battle.” The molly gave him a dismissive flick.

“I told you, Rocky, you don’t need to worry. Right now, it’s not about the quantity of cats we have, but the quality.” Rocky looked confused, but said nothing. “This time, we won’t need to do battle with the clans. My mate had the wrong approach with that tactic, and it cost him his life. I will not be so foolish.” Featherfall blinked, light green eyes catching the glow of a flickering streetlamp. “This time, I’ll burn that whole forest down, right beneath their noses. And the only thing the Clans will be able to do is watch.” Rocky simply nodded, and soon the two went their separate ways, disappearing into the gloom. Featherfall strode right past the ghostly outline of a cat, tucked into the shadows of the crate, unnoticed by all but her fellows in death. As the molly turned the corner, the shade sighed. Carefully, she stepped further out into the alleyway, followed closely by two little shadows.

“Who’s that, mama?” One of them asked, a small white kit, his snowy fur nearly transparent. Dolly let out another sigh.

“Bad news, darlin’.” The scraggly calico murmured, staring out after where the molly had disappeared. “Those clan cats’re in for it, an’ that’s fer certain.” The other kit, a calico like her mother, looked worried.

“Can’t we do somethin’ to help them? You were friends with those cats, weren’t you?” Dolly nodded, slowly leading her little ghosts away from the abandoned alley.

“That I was. If’n I could go to ‘em now, I would, but only Clan ghosts can go ta Clan territory. Just bein’ the way these thin’s work.” The calico only slightly regretted not taking Shade up on his offer to join them. She had gotten sick and had no one to care for her, which had ultimately led to her death a moon or so ago. But maybe she wouldn’t have been with her babies, then, which was an outcome more devastating than dying alone. That being said, the clan cats had always been kind to her. She’d like to be able to return that kindness now. “Well now babies,” she said, tone taking on a conspiratorial lilt. “We’ll just have to see if those forest cats got themselves a spirit seer. Did I ever get a chance to tell y’all about those kinds of cats?” The kittens excitedly trailed after their mother, listening to her tale of cats who could see and speak to ghosts like them.

If those clan cats are star blessed like they say, then maybe, just maybe, they’ll have a chance.

Across the territory, a young calico struggled to fall asleep, still unused to her new nest in her new den. A wiry golden tom sat crouched in the dark of the moor, frustrated at his inability to speak to one of his oldest friends. A bright yellow Riverclanner slept easily, sprawled on his back near his sister and friends. And finally, in the pines, one young tortoiseshell was awake, searching eagerly for the first spring blooms. A spirit trailed behind her, keeping carefully out of her sight, itching with just as much anticipation.

The time was coming. The spirit could only pray they were ready- their future, as well as her own eternity, depended on it. Ancestors guide them well-

They’ll need all the help they can get.

#warriors ocs #warrior cats ocs #my writing #warrior cats #wc pyrophyte #prologue #cool title card to come my ancient ipad is giving me fits

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overgrowth-wc · 9 months

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PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER SEVEN

IT FILLS YOU WITH...

Littlesong is a reluctant subscriber to the sunk cost fallacy. Too late to back out now, the only way out is through.

“Uh, Mr. Dandelion?”

Littlesong looked up from his slumped position, smoothing his annoyed expression into a more pleasant smile as he recognized Goose was the one interrupting his attempt at a nap- he had grown fond of the kitten during his time with Whistler’s colony. The warrior was fitting in well, generally well liked by the other cats here, but he seemed to have drawn the devoted admiration of Goose in particular. The gray tom was Lilac and Bear’s only child, still just a walking ball of fluff at this point, his kit blue eyes wide and wondering at everything he saw. Littlesong was unsure why Goose clung to him so much instead of his own father, but given Bear’s personality, maybe it wasn’t such a mystery after all. The tom was even more of a- well, bear, lately, having been bitten by a rat on his foot a night or two ago, now limping around camp and snapping even more frequently than usual.

“Hello, young gosling. What can I do for you?” The warrior asked, giving the kit a friendly blink. Goose offered him a shy smile in return.

“Um,” he peeped, “uh, well, you know how to fight, right?” This time, Littlesong’s blink was more confused than anything. He nodded, prompting the kit to go on. Goose swallowed hard. “Well, I heard Father speaking to Mr. Whistler,” a brief flicker of panic, “I wasn’t eave- eves- I wasn’t sneaking, or nothing,” Goose assured Littlesong, seeming afraid to get in trouble for eavesdropping. “They were outside the den! And the walls are thin! But, um, Father said that we need more fighters, and that you’re really good, and well… would you teach me?” Littlesong tried to not let his feelings show on his face. Goose wasn’t even fully weaned yet, and here he was, trying to learn how to fight, simply because it might make his father happy.

“Well,” Littlesong hedged, trying to put it delicately, “I feel like right now you’re still a bit too young…” Oh no, not that look of disappointment. Goose practically wilted, little ears pinned and eyes downcast. You’re too soft, you big pushover, the warrior scolded himself, but he was already opening his big dumb mouth. “But,” and here Goose shot back up, “I’m sure there’s something neat I could show you.”

“Oh, thank you Mr. Dandelion,” the kit said earnestly, kneading the ground in his excitement. “I’ll be the best kit you ever taught, promise!” Ugh, that’s adorable. Littlesong hadn’t ever really wanted kits, but if they were all as cute and earnest as Goose… he could see the appeal. Then he remembered the terror his sister was as a kitten, and that burgeoning thought was summarily dismissed.

“Alright, first, let’s see what you got,” Littlesong instructed, mimicking the tone Piketail had always used. “Show me your best crouch.” Goose immediately dropped, belly hitting the ground, tail straight up, brow furrowed, and bright pink tongue stuck out in concentration. He was practically quivering in his attempt to stay still. Littlesong did his best not to laugh. “Good job!” He praised instead. “Just a few little adjustments.” He carefully nudged Goose into a proper form, mindful of the fact his paw was almost the size of the kit’s body. A minute later, the gray kit was in a decent approximation of a standard hunter’s crouch. “Now, here, pretend my tail is the enemy,” Littlesong said seriously, sweeping his puffy golden tail around so the tip flicked just a few steps from Goose. “What would you do to attack?” It seemed the little tom had good instincts, as he took a few clumsy but careful pawsteps forward then pounced, immediately wrapping his paws around his tail, letting loose a flurry of bunny kicks. Thank the ancestors, the warrior’s fur was too thick for him to feel anything. “Excellent, you really know what you’re doing!” Littlesong said, gently drawing his tail out of the kitten’s grip.

“Really? I did it right?” Goose squeaked, seeming like he hardly dared to believe it.

“Of course! Now, here’s a move for you.” Littlesong vaguely remembered his own father teaching this to him, Lionfoot a hazy figure in his mind. “Most anybody you’re going to fight is going to be much bigger than you right now. Like me- if you were trying to fight me, would you be able to do what you did with my tail?” Goose shook his head. “That’s right. So I’ll show you what you should do instead. But,” he mewed seriously, fixing the kitten with a firm look. “I never want you fighting unless you have no other choice, alright? The best thing until you get bigger is to hide, or find your mother, or another grown cat you know.” Littlesong wasn’t sure if he had been too harsh, as Goose’s eyes grew wide and he shrunk back a little, but the kit nodded seriously. Good. The last thing Littlesong needed was Goose sneaking out and picking fights- he’d be out on his tail in a heartbeat.

“I promise,” Goose squeaked. Good enough.

“Alright, here’s what you do…” Littlesong taught Goose how to land a solid swipe, showing him the more sensitive areas he could target and wincing when Goose landed an enthusiastic blow across his nose, leaving three little lines of blood. Goose was mortified, on the brink of tears even, and it took a lot of reassurance and expressions of pride before he calmed down. By the time Lilac came calling, Goose had a good grasp on how to land a blow, and the predawn light was washing everything out, making the kit look even more like just a ball of down.

“There you are,” Lilac said, trying to hide the panic in her tone. Uh oh, Littlesong thought. She didn’t know Goose was out here. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Dandelion,” the queen said, drawing her son close with a shaky paw. “I didn’t- Slip was supposed to be watching him.” Littlesong just managed to keep from rolling his eyes. Slip was a very irresponsible young tom who seemed much more interested in preening in front of the colony’s mollies than anything involving work, or, dare he say it, responsibility. No wonder Goose managed to sneak away- a dog could walk through camp and Slip wouldn’t notice.

“It’s really no worry,” Littlesong said jovially, sending Goose a wink. “Your son is already shaping up to be a fine young tom. Quite the fighter, too!” The warrior was perhaps overly kind when it came to Lilac, trying to emulate the way Splashpaw handled a flighty patient. Honestly, he felt bad for the young queen. They were about the same age, less than halfway through their second year, and already she had a child- while not completely untoward, by Riverclan standards that was terribly young. Lilac also tended to be high strung, muscles slightly tense, eyes always darting around like she expected a blow at any second. Honestly, he didn’t know why she was with Bear. A small, worried part of him felt like she didn’t have much choice.

So. You know, given the position he was in, he really couldn’t do anything about it, so he just tried to be nice to the little family when he saw them. They were both very sweet once they relaxed a little.

“I’m sorry Mama, but Slip is boring.” Goose protested.

“Mr. Slip,” Lilac corrected. “Be polite.” The warrior tried not to snort. She didn’t push the boring part.

“Okay, Mr. Slip is boring,” the kit repeated, Littlesong’s whiskers twitching as he tried to conceal a smile. “And, and, Mr. Dandelion is really nice, and he showed me a cool trick! I’ll keep you safe, Mama, I promise!” Both the adults couldn’t help but melt a bit at that, Lilac’s shoulders relaxing as she gave Goose an affectionate lick.

“Thank you darling, I’m sure you will.” She purred, gaze flicking once more to Littlesong. “Thank you for teaching him, Mr. Dandelion.”

“Of course,” he returned, dipping his head. “And just Dandelion is more than fine.” He gave her a friendly blink, which she returned with a hesitant smile, but she said nothing else, just ushering Goose back to the empty box that made up their den, matching gray pelts melting into the early haze. Shaking himself, Littlesong stretched with a yawn. This more nocturnal schedule had been odd at first, but now the sight of the dawn just made him tired. Well, that had always made him tired- Riverclanner’s weren’t fond of mornings, after all. But now it made him tired in a ‘it’s time to go to sleep’ kind of way, not an ‘ugh I don’t want to get up’ way, so he headed off to the little corner he had claimed for himself, curled up in the ratty blanket that formed his nest, and quickly fell asleep.

______________________________________________________________

Littlesong awoke to the murmur of his colony mates, waking to head out for the night. Just the barest hint of orange tinted the sky, signaling that it was time to get started. With a jaw cracking yawn, Littlesong forced himself out of bed, idly scratching behind his ear. Another weird thing about this place was that everything was very loosely organized. No hunting patrols, very informal border patrols- really, cats mostly did what they wanted unless Whistler told them otherwise. The only real expectation was to chase out any interlopers and bring back at least one piece of prey by the end of the night, so that the queens, kits, and elderly cats could eat. Right now, that was just Lilac, Goose, and Grady, an old tom who acted as a sort of advisor to Whistler. Grady was functionally blind at this point, eyes milky with cataracts, the tom creaking around instead of walking, and was so obviously incapable of caring for himself nobody complained about hunting for the old tabby. Littlesong, having the Clan instinct to care for all elderly, made sure to bring Grady the best prey he could find. It definitely had endeared him to the old tom, which might come in handy later.

The warrior trotted towards the fence, nodding to Whistler as he went, the leader surveying his base camp from his typical perch atop the dumpster. When Whistler simply nodded back, Littlesong climbed up the chain link fence and dropped down the other side, off to start his night. The base camp was tucked away in the corner of an abandoned lot, a haphazard stack of broken-down wood, metal, and other debris forming a barrier between it and the rest of the space. A dumpster was tucked away into that mess, which was where Whistler slept most of the time. Other boxes and such pushed up against the fence formed the bulk of where most cats slept, Littlesong included, and the easiest way in and out of the base camp was to simply climb the fence and jump down the other side. Better than picking through the death trap that was the garbage barrier, anyway. Casually glancing around, Littlesong set off at an amble, the very picture of nonchalance. He wandered through the alleys, grabbing a mouse for himself, and as he came to a quiet road, lined with houses, he stopped, ears pricked and mouth open. He was mostly sure he hadn’t been followed, and nothing smelled or sounded suspicious. Still, he ducked into a yard through a gap in its wooden fence, rolling in some smelly plants to disguise his own scent. Littlesong then carefully snuck through the backyards until he came to a red brick house, its white fence faded and peeling. There, crouched in the bushes, was Piketail.

“Psst,” Littlesong hissed, trying to keep a straight face as Piketail visibly startled. “It’s me, relax!”

“You’re getting too good at sneaking,” Piketail complained, but Littlesong caught the glimmer of pride in his amber eye. “Scared me half to death.” The golden tom ignored the grumblings with ease, settling down beside Piketail with a purr. While technically Littlesong was supposed to report to Gorsestorm, who would then formally disseminate the information to the other Clans, Littlesong also tried to keep Piketail in the loop. He hadn’t been able to see his old mentor that much when he first joined the colony, which was why he’d been unaware of Sparkpaw’s kidnapping, but now he was trying to help Shadowclan find the apprentice as well as hunt down Featherfall. “Any news?” Littlesong hesitated.

“Sort of- I know they’re moving him periodically, but I don’t know where, or if the timing is intentional or random, or…” He trailed off. It was frustrating, to be honest, trying to figure out about something he shouldn’t know while trying to hide the fact that he very much did. Littlesong had gleaned that Sparkpaw was being moved from overhearing Slip complain about guard duty- the ginger tom had been grumbling about first there, now over here, next thing you know it’ll on the other side of Town, all for some stupid brat. Littlesong was really hoping that he would be picked for guard duty soon. Whistler had given him a few tasks, all of which he had completed successfully, and had been speaking about giving Littlesong more responsibilities. Typically one to shy away from such phrases, the warrior only hoped that in this situation, that would translate to something helpful for the Clans. Something that would get him, and Sparkpaw, home as quickly as possible.

“Well, that would make sense.” Piketail sighed, looking exhausted. “Stars forbid they make this easy for us.” Littlesong couldn’t help but feel bad for his old mentor. Piketail was easily stressed out, the worrywart, and the tension in Shadowclan was obviously weighing on him. He had told Littlesong that keeping Rosestar and Emberpaw under control was a full-time job at this point, Marshfoot, Pinenose, and Crowcall busy trying to keep them from exploding. “I have some bad news, of course- there was another fight in the Town yesterday, near where Turtledove is. None of our warriors are badly hurt, but Marshfoot is pushing for us to stay out of the Town entirely. At least until we have a definitive plan on getting Sparkpaw back.” Littlesong tried not to show how panicked the news made him, but he had never been good at hiding things from Piketail. His old mentor narrowed his eye, but his expression was mostly sympathetic. “You’ll be more than fine, Littlesong. You’ve only seen me, what, four or five times since you went in?”

“This is the sixth,” he interrupted. Piketail huffed.

“Which is not that much- I’ll still try to see you, of course, but it’s better for both of us if I’m not around as often. Stars forbid you get caught meeting with me, it’ll blow the whole operation.” Littlesong wanted to point out that there was nothing connecting him to Turtledove, and that she seemed perfectly capable of handling this on her own, and really, why was he even here? But that wouldn’t help right now, and he was too far in to back out, so he just swallowed hard and tried to find some courage deep down.

“Alright,” he said, and okay, it came out entirely too petulant, but the depths hadn’t had that much courage to offer. “You’re right, it- yeah, it’ll be more than fine.” Piketail was giving him that look again, the one where Littlesong couldn’t tell if he was concerned or disappointed or both, which made that uncomfortable guilt flare up. Well, time to deflect. “Speaking of fine, how’s Batflight?” It really was too easy. Piketail immediately began sputtering, ear twisting in embarrassment as a series of denials began, Littlesong content to grin and egg him on. He was happy for Piketail, he really was- if this level of protest showed anything, it was that his mentor definitely had a thing for the lanky molly, and she had obviously been showing her interest in him. And it was nice to have this moment with the older tom, teasing and light and a much-needed break from the stress of the past few weeks. Piketail finally managed to take a breath, pinning Littlesong with a Look.

“You think you’re clever,” he grouched, but noticeably did not push the previous subject. “Anyway, I should probably head out.” Again, panic stirred up, and this time Piketail noticeably softened. “Don’t worry- let’s say we meet at the blue house a street over, the week after the Gathering? It’ll be long enough from now that hopefully things will have simmered down a bit.” Ugh, the Gathering was almost a week away, which meant, what, two weeks? At least I’ll see Gorsestorm and Turtledove before then. They were set to meet again the day after the Gathering, having just met a couple of days ago. Some consolation prize. Littlesong bid his goodbyes to Piketail, watching somberly as the tom disappeared over the fence, letting out a sigh as he set out himself.

Honestly, he was at a loss on what to do tonight. Littlesong had to walk the fine line between being curious about his new home and being actively suspicious, which meant he had to take the time to act like a normal Town cat now and again. Hmmm… Slip and Twist had been talking about that house they went to for spars, over near the warehouse. Maybe he could go there? The other young toms liked him well enough, but he had fought them both in his entrance test and won- alright, well, his match with Twist had been a draw, but whatever- and it seemed like their pride had suffered from their defeat. So, while they were friendly to him, they hadn’t exactly offered to spend time with him. I should probably work on that- they would probably be the most likely to spill if they knew something. Especially Slip. Feeling better with a plan, Littlesong set off to try and find the house. He had a vague idea, but if he wanted to get there in enough time to enact said plan, he needed to hurry.

______________________________________________________________

Littlesong arrived at the house in good time, having asked a stray he ran into for directions and following the scent of many yearlings to make sure he was in the right place. It was rowdy, which was probably typical given the nature of the crowd, Twist in the center of the room facing off against a massive gray tabby Littlesong hadn’t seen before. To his surprise, however, there was someone he recognized- Turtledove was fidgeting amongst a group of loud toms, Slip among them, all boasting and bragging between their cheers. Littlesong paused in the doorway, unsure of how to approach the situation, when Slip caught sight of him.

“Hey, Dandelion, c’mere!” He called over the din. Littlesong, relieved, padded over, skirting the fight and coming to a stop before the group, an easy smile on his face. Meeting new cats had never been a problem for him, a boon in this place.

“Hey Slip, I’m glad you’re here. I figured I’d come see what all this fuss is about.” It seemed his colony mate was eager to make it look like they were friends, as he introduced Littlesong to the group with gusto, including Turtledove, who he introduced as Spook.

“Turtle, actually. I don’t know why Knot calls me that,” she interrupted, casting a quick glance over to Littlesong. “Nice to meet you, Dandelion.”

“Charmed,” he replied with a smile, and Turtledove looked away, back towards the fight. Thankfully, nobody gave their interaction a second thought, and Littlesong happily settled in with the young crowd, quickly becoming caught up in the jovial atmosphere. The fight dragged on in front of them, and more and more of the crowd got impatient, and soon enough there were many rousing cries of come on, just end it! and hey now, give someone else a turn! The large tabby, responding to the demands, flipped Twist in one smooth maneuver, pinning him easily with one massive paw as the crowd counted down, cheering as the gray tom was declared the winner. Both Twist and the tabby nodded to each other, walking together over to Littlesong’s group.

“Aw, you almost had him, Twist!” Littlesong said encouragingly, trying to be a supportive colony mate. If Twist was surprised he was there, he didn’t show it, just giving him a friendly nod.

“Well, I don’t feel too bad- who can beat a beast like this guy, huh?” Twist gave the other tom a friendly shove, which he dramatically stumbled at. The gray tom then fixed Littlesong with an easy smile.

“My name’s Knot,” he said, giving a friendly blink, which Littlesong returned.

“Dandelion, pleased to meet you,” he chirped. Knot then gave a considering hum, looking Littlesong up and down.

“Well, Dandelion, it’s your first time here, isn’t it?” He nodded. “Well then, tradition dictates you’ve gotta have a go! Here, why don’t you face off with Turtle?” There was a mischievous smile on Knot’s face, which Littlesong wondered at. Well, anyway, time to pull out those acting skills- he had to pretend he didn’t know Turtledove was a full-blown warrior and thus a solid opponent. He gave his fellow warrior a once over, sniffing like he was unimpressed with what he saw. Littlesong was a little worried that the irritation that flashed across her face was genuine- hopefully she knows I’m acting.

“If you’re sure that’s a good idea,” he drawled, arrogance bleeding off of him in his best impression of Goldenthorn, and Knot’s smile only grew bigger. Oh. He’s hoping she’ll kick my ass and embarrass me. Now, the Riverclanner hadn’t had a chance to square off against the calico during their brief training together, but he was actually looking forward to the opportunity. The old River-Thunder rivalry ran deep in his blood, and he couldn’t help the way his heart started racing at the idea of a fight. “Alright, Turtle, after you!” He gave a cheery bow, sweeping his tail to indicate she should go first. Turtledove stalked over to the ring with a huff, standing stiffly in the center as a black and white tom, the apparent announcer of this event, took his place beside her. Littlesong ambled over, chest puffed up and showing nothing but confidence. While there were a few cheers for him, Turtle definitely seemed to be the fan favorite. That’s probably not a good sign. The announcer cleared his throat.

“Alright, we’ve got Turtle and-” he cast a glance at Littlesong.

“Dandelion.”

“Turtle and Dandelion up next! No claws, no blood, first to forfeit or be pinned for five seconds loses. Go easy on him Turtle, no one wants to see a grown tom cry.” There were a couple of oohs at the rib, and now Littlesong couldn’t help but be a little nervous. Turtledove couldn’t be that good, could she? I mean- “Begin!”

Turtledove didn’t give him a moment to think. She lunged forward, darting around his reflexive blow to try and sneak behind him. Littlesong turned quickly, pivoting on his front foot so that he was now facing the calico, eyeing her critically. She was quick, and with her size she’d be interested in utilizing that speed to get past his defenses. Turtledove pushed forward again, swiping quickly at his face to try and get him to retreat, but he weathered the blow to his cheek so that he could offer a hit of his own, his much heavier swipe sending the molly sprawling. The crowd cheered and booed as he pressed his attack, trying to get Turtledove in a pin- he was so much heavier than her, if he could get a good grip on her it’d be over. Too bad for him, she was up in a flash, and she sprang away from him lightly. They both leapt towards each other, Littlesong expecting her to go high and dismayed to see instead she went low, slipping underneath him. She tried to rear up and unbalance him, but he was ready, rolling with the blow and coming back up on his feet. He found himself flashing back to his first real spar like this, his assessment against Darkwater- but then he saw the molly dead, her throat ripped out, eyes glazed and empty, and he wondered, briefly, if maybe he knew the cat who did it, now, oh stars, maybe they were here-

He felt a weight on his back, and paws around his neck, and, unbalanced as he was, it was easy for Turtledove to wrench him to the side, and the tom fumbled as they went into a roll. The calico came out on top, both paws on his throat, and Littlesong knew he’d lost. No need to wait for the countdown- he tapped Turtledove’s side with a sigh, coming up with a rueful smile as the crowd cheered for their champion.

“Good fight,” he rasped, and the other warrior nodded, turning back to their group. As they walked over together, though, her gaze flicked around the room, trying not to look at him.

“You froze.” She said under her breath, eyes on her feet. Littlesong paused for a moment.

“Darkwater.” Was all he murmured in reply. Everyone knew the names of those who died in that battle- Turtledove would know who he meant. They were at the group then, Littlesong forcing himself to laugh and joke with the other toms as they teased him for his loss, but when he chanced a look back over at Turtledove, he only saw understanding in her eyes.

“Excellent work, Spook!” Knot boomed, and Turtledove grimaced as he gave her a friendly nudge, which nearly knocked her off her feet. Littlesong snorted- so this is the tom she was complaining about. Turtledove had been sure to let Gorsestorm and him know about her main ally in her colony, as much as it pained her to. Twist turned to him then, complimenting the way he rolled with Turtledove’s attempt to unbalance him- apparently she had beaten Twist with that exact move- and Littlesong felt the last bit of tension leave him. His plan was working: if Slip and Twist started hanging out with him now, maybe it would be easier to achieve his goals and get back home. A little guilty part of him felt bad about using them, squirmy at being so disingenuous, but that’s why he was here. He thought about Splashpaw then, wanting him to be safe, about how hard Piketail had worked to bring Stonestar to justice, and finally about Darkwater, dead before her time, and felt a bit more resolve.

“Come on, we should probably be heading back,” Twist said, waving his brother over and nodding at Littlesong. The warrior bid his goodbyes, ambling off with his colony mates, laughing and boasting as they went. Hopefully, this would be the start of his big break.

______________________________________________________________

Littlesong did not expect said break to be so immediate.

“Ah, Dandelion,” Whistler called as he dropped from the fence, a rat in his jaws, Slip and Twist thudding down beside him. The three toms had hunted on their way home, bring back a couple mice and a rat for the food pile and thus fulfilling their limited obligation. His companions departed with a respectful nod to Whistler, not even bothering to give Littlesong a curious glance as they left- whatever their boss wanted him for was none of their business, and it was unlikely they even cared to know. Littlesong put his rat down before offering his own greeting.

“Evening, Boss.” He mewed, trying to keep his pelt from prickling with anticipation. “Need something?” Whistler nodded, looking around before jerking his head back towards his dumpster.

“Have someone I want to introduce you to,” he murmured. “Bring the rat.” Littlesong did as he was told, following a few steps behind Whistler, trying to keep his thoughts in order. Really, he couldn’t be this lucky, surely it wasn’t who he thought it was-

A dark gray molly was sitting atop Whistler’s dumpster, looking over the camp like she owned it. Even without her missing leg confirming it, Littlesong almost instinctively knew who it was. Featherfall. In all his imaginings on meeting the infamous criminal, the warrior hadn’t expected one thing- the almost brutal and burning hatred he felt at the sight of her. This was the molly who was responsible for all this misery, for Reedpelt and Darkwater’s deaths, for Splashpaw’s fear, for all the other tragedies the Clan’s had faced, and while Littlesong had been angry and determined to find her before, he had always been discomfited, and yes, he’d admit it, scared at the thought of her. But now, though, now that she was in front of him, a large part of him was screaming end it, end this, kill her now- and that was what scared him. Littlesong wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t courageous, or daring, or even confrontational on any level. Honestly, he had expected to fight down fear if or when he finally met her, not the desire to rip her to pieces.

It took every ounce of self-control and shred of acting ability to keep his fur flat, muscles relaxed, and expression distantly curious as he hopped up the trash beside the dumpster, following Whistler across it’s weirdly slick top to where Featherfall was sitting. She turned to face them both as they came to a stop beside her, Littlesong copying Whistler’s deferential nod, trying to ignore the churning in his gut. Those pale green eyes were stark in the low light, narrowed critically as Featherfall gave him a once over. It was then that Littlesong felt fear for the first time. Would she recognize him? Had she ever spotted him when she was lurking in Riverclan territory? Or would she be able to pin him as a Riverclanner anyway? He tried to keep his anxiety from showing, instead placing the rat down and offering a friendly smile.

“Feather, this is Dandelion, our new colony member.” Whistler said. “Dandelion, this is Feather. She’s a close friend of our colony.” Littlesong forced himself to speak.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He said, tone light but respectful.

“It is very nice to finally meet you as well, Dandelion.” She returned, voice smooth and lower than he expected. “Whistler has told me much about you. He says you’ve become quite the asset to this colony.” Littlesong let his smile grow almost shy, glancing away.

“Ah, that’s mighty kind of him. Really, he did me a favor, letting me join up.” He shot Whistler a grateful glance, the tom merely flicking an ear in acknowledgement. Featherfall hummed in response.

“Well, given that you’ve settled in so nicely here, Whistler and I thought it was time to give you some more responsibility. Think you’re up to the task?” Littlesong straightened up, letting his chest puff out a bit, like he was proud of being given this opportunity. In reality, it was all that he could do to keep his tail from lashing in anticipation- this is what I’ve been waiting for.

“Of course!” He mewed, then hesitated, abashed, “I mean, uh, yes ma’am, I’d be happy to help out more.” The warrior’s sheepish smile was perfect after a lifetime of use, and the blink Featherfall gave him was a mixture of amused and affectionate.

“Excellent,” she purred. “What a blessing, to have such a fine young tom in the colony.” Littlesong preened a bit at the praise, as uncomfortable as it made him. If he didn’t know any better… she sounds just like any other senior warrior. “Now, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been a bit of a problem with those forest cats, lately.” Littlesong blinked in an absently curious way.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about some fights and stuff, near the park, right?” Featherfall nodded, seeming pleased.

“Yes. Recently, we found a spy in our midst, a young tom- I fear that those swamp cats are looking to claim parts of the Town for themselves, and sent a scout to infiltrate us.” Oh boy, if only she knew. He let his brow furrow, irritation making his tail flick.

“Don’t they have enough?” He complained, then ducked his chin. “Er, sorry. But that seems just… greedy, almost.” This was a common complaint he’d heard from other strays, who were irritated with Shadowclan’s lurking in the Town, especially during the winter months when times were hard for everyone.

“I definitely think so,” Whistler grumbled, Featherfall nodding in agreement.

“Exactly. Now, we caught this spy, of course, and have been holding him secure until we can figure out what to do with him.” She sighed regretfully. “I’d hate to have to hurt him, so right now, we’re using him as more of a bargaining chip against the forest cats. It’s been a bit difficult, trying to arrange a meeting with their boss, but I’m hoping for a breakthrough soon.” Littlesong nodded, expression now serious.

“So, what can I do to help?” He asked, trying to rein in his eagerness. It bled through a bit, but it must have made Featherfall think he was eager to help her, as she gave him a wide smile.

“I need strong fighters guarding his location. I worry that the forest cats will simply find him and take him back, which would leave us in the same position as before. Could we start assigning you to this role?” Time to lay it on thick. Littlesong puffed out his chest, not hiding his arrogance as he gave a grin.

“I’d like to see them try to get past me,” he declared. “You can count on me, ma’am. It’s an honor, really.” Featherfall purred, seeming satisfied, and Whistler took the opportunity to clear his throat.

“Alright then, boy, go see Bear. He’ll tell you where to go.” Wait, now? It’s almost dawn! Did they really expect him to go play babysitter after a full night out? He nodded, departing quickly, trying not to let his thoughts become too sullen. This is a good thing, he coached himself, padding over to the box that Bear, Lilac, and Goose lived in. The sooner you help find Sparkpaw and the sooner you report Featherfall, the sooner you can go home. Littlesong came to a stop outside the box, mouth open to call for Bear, when he heard a hiss from inside. He froze, ears pricked, wincing as he overheard what was being said. Goose is right- you don’t need to eavesdrop to hear what’s going on.

“You act like he’s a newborn.” Bear was whispering furiously, presumably trying to not wake Goose. “He’s not made of glass!”

“He’s not even weaned,” Lilac bit back, and Littlesong was surprised to hear the fire in her voice. “Honestly, Bear, you act like you want him out patrolling!”

“The boy is old enough to start learning to care for himself.” Bear whispered, temper barely in check. “I was barely older than him when I was on my own. You were too!”

“And I want better for my son.”

“Our son.” Bear growled, and Littlesong was all too aware then that he was overhearing a very private argument. He backed up a few tail lengths, then started humming loudly, ambling back over to the box as if he were just strolling up. Once near the entrance, he called out a quiet greeting. There was a rustle, then Bear limped out, back paw held up gingerly, face set in a scowl as usual. “Dandelion.” He said stiffly. “Need something?”

“Yeah, actually,” he replied, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “Whistler said he wants me on this, uh, guard duty? And said to speak to you about it.” Relaxing minutely, Bear sighed, jerking his head towards the fence.

“Well, if that’s what the Boss wants,” the tom mewed drily, leading Littlesong over to the edge of the base. “Here, I’ll have to show you. Don’t worry, it’s not too far.” Internally Littlesong was rolling his eyes, but externally he gave an agreeable mew, following obediently after the other tom, eyeing him carefully as they went. Bear was big- he must really resemble that forest creature he shared a name with. Littlesong had never seen a bear, of course, no Clan cat had in generations, but he knew they were big, brown, and surly, which fit his colony mate perfectly. They couldn’t move too fast given Bear’s injury, and Littlesong tried not to show how antsy he was as they went, just wanting to get there and be done with it. He was beginning to wonder if they’d ever arrive when they turned a corner and stumbled upon the last thing he expected to see in this place.

Honestly, he groaned to himself, weeks of nothing, and now all this? Emberpaw was an all too familiar and all too unwelcome sight, the young molly looking at the two toms with wide, surprised eyes. Thank the ancestors, she had the presence of mind to not act like she recognized Littlesong, just bushing up her fur and arching her back with a hiss.

“Who the hell are you, fuzzball?” Bear snarled, taking an aggressive step forward. Emberpaw simply spit, backing up a couple pawsteps. The brown tom sniffed the air, stiffening as he caught her scent. “A forest cat, huh?” He said lowly, casting Littlesong a sideway glance. “Get her.” The warrior didn’t think twice. He launched himself forward, landing just shy of where Emberpaw was, the tortoiseshell scrambling away with a surprised hiss. She bolted off, Littlesong following her with a yowl, Bear yelling behind him. The warrior couldn’t be too sure how well Bear could keep up, so he let Emberpaw lead him on a merry chase all the way back to the border of Town- I didn’t realize we were so close- where he finally caught up to her, tackling her with an oomph. They both went down, Littlesong using a heavy paw to pin her in place, scowling ferociously.

“Are you insane?” He hissed, gaze darting around. “Are you trying to get kidnapped too?”

“Shut up!” Emberpaw spat, teeth bared in a snarl. “I’m doing more than you are!” Oh, this little brat, Littlesong snarled to himself, letting loose a furious growl, even more angry when it did nothing to cow the apprentice.

“Is that so?” He ground out, barely able to stop himself from shaking her. “Because I was just on my way to see where they’re keeping your brother, and now I’m here with you instead.” Emberpaw froze, green eyes wide. Littlesong snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. What are- actually, you know what, I don’t want to know. Is anybody with you?” She shook her head mutely. “Figures,” he sighed. Steeling himself, he gave Emberpaw a narrow look. “Now, scratch me.”

“What?” She hissed, surprised. This time, the warrior couldn’t help his eyeroll.

“Scratch me, it needs to look like-” he hadn’t even finished his sentence when Emberpaw lashed out, scoring a deep scratch across his nose in a much more severe imitation of his earlier lesson with Goose. Littlesong recoiled with a genuinely pained yowl, blindly stepping off of her, and the apprentice took the opportunity to slip away, scurrying up a fence and out of sight. Committed to the act, Littlesong bunched his muscles and threw himself after her, following her over the final fence and a few steps into the marsh, hesitating as she disappeared into the tall grasses. He let loose a frustrated snarl, which was actually genuine, and stalked back over to the fence, hauling himself atop it. By the time he made it back to the road, Bear had caught up, panting heavily, back leg tucked up against his stomach.

“Where is she?” He demanded. Littlesong scowled, looking to the side. This was bad. He couldn’t look too incompetent, or he might lose the respect of Whistler and Featherfall, which would risk the whole operation.

“She got away,” he mumbled. “I had her pinned near the fence, I was trying to hold her til you got here. I heard something, thought maybe it was you, or another forest cat, and, well…” Littlesong pawed at the wound on his nose, the gash splitting his nose pad and continuing down, across his lip and chin. It’ll probably scar, too! “It surprised me, and she got away from me. She got into the grasses, and I knew I’d never find her again.” Bear growled, tail lashing, and Littlesong couldn’t help but flinch a bit, expecting a blow. The brown tom turned away angrily, limping back the way they came.

“Come on,” he called. “It’s getting too light out for my taste- we need to make it to the prisoner before the whole Town wakes up.” Littlesong hurried after him, now having to duck and hide to avoid the amount of humans on the street, but eventually they came to an abandoned house, not too far from where the camp was. Littlesong had actually seen it before- it made him uncomfortable to realize he had possibly walked right by Sparkpaw without ever realizing it. Bear led him through a hole in the wooden fence, going around to the overgrown garden in the back of the house. There, two cats were sitting alert, guarding what looked to be a pile of bricks and dirt. The warrior only recognized one- Rosy, one of the mollies in his colony. The other, a tom, was completely unknown to him. As they approached the guards, Rosy called out a greeting.

“Hey there, Bear, Dandelion. Something wrong?” She twitched an inquisitive ear.

“No, everything’s fine,” Bear said, and Littlesong stopped himself from shooting him a glance. Not mentioning Emberpaw, huh? “Whistler wants Dandelion on guard duty moving forward, so I figured it best to show him where this place was.” The warrior almost melted with relief. Does this mean I’m not on duty tonight?

“Oh, cool,” Rosy said, quickly losing interest. “Well, we just traded off with Buttercup and Knot, nothing happened overnight. After Pip and I are done, Twist and Snail are up.” Bear jerked a nod.

“Excellent. Dandelion, I’ll send you along with Twist tomorrow night, so you can learn the duties. And moon knows Snail won’t be much help.” Nobody said anything in the young tom’s defense, and that seemed to be it, as Bear flicked a tail in goodbye and made to leave. Littlesong hastily gave his own well wishes before taking off after him.

“So, uh,” he hedged, quailing a bit at the narrowed look Bear gave him. “Do you tell Whistler about the forest cat, or…?”

“Your mistake, your report.” Bear said shortly, and wisely, Littlesong decided to keep his mouth shut. Ancestors, just don’t let Featherfall still be there. It was firmly morning by the time they got back, the return trip taking even longer thanks to their need to sneak by all the humans and such, and the camp was still and quiet. The warrior thought for a moment he had lucked out, that maybe he could just go to bed and deal with it all that evening, but it seemed Whistler had waited up for them. Bear departed with a simple nod to his boss, stalking away without a word, leaving Littlesong alone with the old gray tom. Whistler looked down at Littlesong’s wound before jerking his head towards the dumpster. The warrior followed obediently, gut sinking as he tried to prepare his report, mind spinning at the idea that Whistler could take everything back. I swear, the next time I see that apprentice-

“What happened?” Whistler asked bluntly, expression neutral. Littlesong winced.

“When Bear and I were on our way to, uh, you know,” he said hesitantly, “we ran into a forest, er, swamp cat, and…” The yellow tom haltingly told his story, ears drooping as he recounted how Emberpaw got away from him, eyes downcast as he finished. He could only see Whistler’s tail tip flicking as the boss thought. Finally, there came a reedy sigh.

“Nothing for it.” Littlesong looked up, eyes hopeful as he saw Whistler didn’t look mad. “Those damn Clan rats are slippery, and with Bear out of commission… well, I always said, it’s easy to kill a rat than keep it.” The warrior winced at that, but nodded, relieved he wasn’t in trouble. “So, you’re going with Twist to the place this evening, correct?”

“Yeah, er, yes Boss, that’s what Bear said.”

“That’s fine. He leaves early, though- make sure you’re awake in time, or he’ll likely head over without you.” Ugh, of course. But, once again, Littlesong just nodded obediently, slumping off when Whistler dismissed him. This is good, though, he tried to remind himself, sinking into his nest with a sigh. This is huge. Gorsestorm and Turtledove will be thrilled.

But when he fell asleep, he dreamt of Lilac and Goose, cowering in terror, Sparkpaw starving and sick, Emberpaw, spitting with hatred, and Featherfall, licking her lips before she lunged for his throat. He awoke with a start, the golden evening light warming his dingy den, and tried to calm his rapid breathing. This whole thing will be the death of me, Littlesong griped to himself, too worked up to try and fall back asleep. At that moment, he just wanted to be home, to see Splash and Ripple and even Goldenthorn, to hear the river through the reeds and smell the fresh air, not be lying on some dirty blanket in this dank, oppressive box. Throat tightening as tears welled in his eyes, Littlesong tried to find what little courage he had. Lionfoot, he thought, Dad, if you can hear me, help me to be brave like you. If only so I can get the hell out of here. Maybe not the best of prayers, but, well, he’d never been good at that either.

“Dandelion, you up? Come on, it’s time to go!” The warrior took a deep breath, trying to steel himself enough to answer Twist’s summons.

“Coming!” He called, relieved that his voice didn’t crack, and tried to cheer himself up. Well, you’re good at acting, and you’re good at making friends, he trotted out of the den, giving Twist a friendly blink. The other tom gave him a quick smile before turning to leave. You’ve made it this far. You must be doing something right. And now, he was on his way to see Sparkpaw, and that was the best thing to happen since he learned the apprentice had been kidnapped. And, he had seen Featherfall. Him! Littlesong, the cat that seemed so useless, had made two major breaks, the two major breaks, in this very difficult case. You can do it, he thought, determination swelling through him.

He had to.

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