Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the moonlit depths of the ethereal night sky, where constellations dance and galaxies shimmer, lies a realm beyond mortal reach. It is a realm known as StarClan, a sacred domain where the spirits of fallen warriors and revered ancestors find solace and purpose.

Picture an otherworldly tapestry, painted with innumerable stars twinkling like diamonds, suspended in a sea of endless obsidian. The vast expanse seems to breathe with a gentle luminescence, casting a soft, ethereal glow that bathes the spirits of the departed in a celestial embrace. StarClan, a congregation of warrior souls, dwells amidst this cosmic splendor.

As you step into this sacred realm, a sense of tranquility and ancient wisdom envelops you. The air is suffused with a faint scent of meadow flowers, carried on a gentle breeze that stirs the countless constellations above. The spirits appear as flickering apparitions, ethereal and luminous, their pelts adorned with stardust and their eyes shimmering like distant galaxies.

And at the centre of it all, a group of cats gathered, murmuring to one-another with concerned expressions plastered across their faces. One of them padded forth. His pelt was a deep, rich shade of brown, reminiscent of the forest floor during the autumn season. The color was mottled with darker patches, mimicking the dappled sunlight that filters through the canopy above. A subtle sheen dances across his fur, giving it a glossy appearance that adds to his air of vitality. 

"This cannot go on," he began, with a rough shake of his head. "If the clans are to survive, they must be prepared for what comes next!"

"Calm yourself, Adderfang." Another cat came forth with a dismissive flick of his tail. His pelt was a captivating blend of dark brown and black, resembling the shadows cast by moonlight on a moonless night. The colors intermingled in his splotches and stripes, giving him a unique and distinct appearance. The glossy sheen of his fur caught onto the light, creating an alluring contrast against the dark background, as if he carried a hint of starlight within his very being.

"Calm down?" Adderfang scoffed, baring his teeth. "Calm down? You've got a lot of nerve, Antfur."

"Shut up, both of you!" Another cat growled, coming forth. With a long, flowing coat of ginger and white, his fur carried a warmth that echoes the hues of a setting sun, drawing attention wherever he strode. His fur cascaded in luxurious waves, adding an air of elegance to his form, and providing a layer of protection against the elements. 

"No, you shut up, Billystorm!" Antfur growled. "What would you know about clan arguments?"

Billystorm's starry green eyes narrowed. "You weren't clan-born either." 

"Here's an idea," yet another warrior came forth, Her pale ginger fur, like the first blush of dawn, enveloped her slender frame in a soft and luminous embrace. It carried a subtle warmth that seemed to radiate from within, evoking a sense of tranquility and grace. "How about you all shut up? Arguing will simply tear the clans apart faster." 

"I still don't see why we can't just warn them in advance," Billystorm shook his head with a sigh. "Is being not-so-vague so hard, Brackenwing?"

Brackenwing sighed. "It's harder than you'd think. But you're right; we have to send something, right?" 

Adderfang stared down at his paws. "Perhaps we could send a prophecy?"

"Yes, perfect!" Antfur grinned. "Let's do that!"

Chapter Text

The sun was high in the sky, glistening down onto the stones. Hollytuft had always adored Greenleaf's offerings. They made hunting easier, after-all.

Eaglewing let out a yawn from beside her, ruffling out her bright ginger pelt with a flick of her bushy tail. "It's quite nice out, today." 

"A little too nice," Leafshade chimed in. "This weather is going to make my fur melt!"

"Well, it could be worse." Hollytuft shrugged. "Be glad that we're not suffering a drought." 

"Oh, don't start chattering on about water!" Leafshade complained. "You'll make me even thirstier!" 

"Oh, come off of it, Leafshade!" Birchfall padded out from the bushes, carrying a mouse in his jaws. "Now, are you all going to do something that correlates with the word 'hunting patrol' or not?" 

"Sorry!" Leafshade said quickly to the older warrior. Birchfall purred, amused by her.

Hollytuft rolled her eyes. Why was Leafshade such an aloof cat, anyways? She's mentored an apprentice before, so surely she should know how to act like a proper warrior?

Hollytuft had always admired the senior warriors of ThunderClan. They always knew what to do, or what to say. Well, most of them did. Some of them were fleabrains, like Bumblestripe and Blossomfall.

Eaglewing, Hollytuft's best friend, seemed to act as if she was wiser than the cats of her age should be. She was cunning, and noble. She'd make a good deputy someday, if Bramblestar or Squirrelflight chose her.

As the patrol padded through the woods, Hollytuft kept close to Eaglewing's side. She took in the fresh and flowery scent of her pelt. Eaglewing's fur was beautiful, and looked like a bright burst of flames. 

Hollytuft wished her pelt was as pretty. But she simply had a pelt that was darker than the night sky. It wasn't interesting. It'd never be interesting. 

Birchfall suddenly stopped, holding his tail erect. He scented the air, raising his chin. "We're getting close to the WindClan border. I can smell a patrol nearby. We should greet them." 

"What?" Leafshade's tortoiseshell head tilted. "Why?"

"It's polite, and it can help keep the relations between each clan strong." Birchfall explained. "Besides, we need it, especially after the things that Ashfur did." 

Hollytuft shuddered, remembering how the cruel former ThunderClan warrior had possessed Bramblestar and nearly destroyed the clans with his tyranny. Her father, Lionblaze, had suffered greatly at his paws because he was half-clan. His father, Crowfeather, was a WindClan cat, while his late mother, Leafpool, had been a ThunderClan cat.

And I'd supported him. Hollytuft guiltily reminded herself of when she'd joined the echoing chants of Berrynose and Ashfur's other supporters when he accused Squirrelflight of being a traitor.

Hollytuft held back a sigh, remembering how Berrynose's support of the imposter had led him to his doom. Some cats still spoke of the snobby warrior, though Hollytuft felt bad for him. He was once Bramblestar's apprentice, after-all.

Some of the other cats who had once supported Bramblestar, such as Bumblestripe and Shellfur, were thankfully forgiven for their crimes. Though, Hollytuft always took notice of the odd glances that some of their clanmates would shoot at them. 

Hollytuft didn't enjoy being lumped into the same category as foolish cats like them. Bumblestripe was a grouchy mousebrain, and Shellfur was practically the complete opposite of his calm siblings. It was fitting that Shellfur was once Bumblestripe's  apprentice.

Hollytuft suddenly recoiled as the sudden scent of WindClan cats filled the air once the patrol got closer to the border. She could see three cats standing nearby, each one with a curious yet cautious look in their gazes. She recognized them as Sedgewhisker, Featherpelt, Heathertail, and Breezepelt.

"Birchfall," Heathertail began, with a friendly dip of her head. "How are you?"

"Doing quite well! How about you?" Birchfall replied, with a smile.

As the two warriors chattered, Hollytuft felt awkward. She looked over at Breezepelt, who gave her an odd look. His golden eyes were narrowed, and his pupils were slits. It was as if he saw something in her, something that he despised. Hollytuft wasn't quite sure about what it was.

Sedgewhisker leaned closer to her daughter, Featherpelt, in an almost defensive manner. It seemed that she felt awkward about the interaction too.

"Is Crowfeather doing better?" Birchfall turned to Breezepelt suddenly. The jet-black tom's eyes suddenly went wide at the innocent question.

"Erm," Breezepelt began, averting his gaze. "He's fine." 

Birchfall frowned, but quickly smiled again. "Well, that's good to hear!" 

Heathertail looked over at Hollytuft with a warm smile. "How's Lionblaze doing?" 

"Oh!" Hollytuft's fur bristled anxiously. She suddenly understood why  Breezepelt felt so awkward about the question surrounding his father. Lionblaze had been quite aloof recently, and he'd been quite grouchy too. In fact, Hollytuft hasn't really spoken to him in quite a while. 

Eaglewing suddenly padded in front of her. "Lionblaze is doing well. The same can be said for all of our warriors. ThunderClan is thriving, even after what Ashfur did. I can only hope the same for WindClan."

Hollytuft sighed, thankful that she didn't have to stand there like a prickly bush instead of answering. I don't know what I'd do without Eaglewing!

"That's great to hear!" Heathertail moved a bit further to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of Hollytuft from behind Eaglewing. "I knew your father well, you know. We were quite close as apprentices!"

Dad never told me that he was friends with a WindClan cat! Hollytuft thought, surprised.

Breezepelt cleared his throat. "We should probably keep going. Harestar wanted us back by sundown."

Heathertail gave Breezepelt a confused look, but sighed. "Alright, let's go. Stay safe, Birchfall! Oh, and tell Lionblaze and Jayfeather that I said hi!"

"We will!" Birchfall mewed. The patrol watched as the WindClan cats slowly padded towards a hill, and disappeared into the moorland grass. 

"We should probably get back, too." Eaglewing added. "Thornclaw's probably worrying his pelt off about me."

Hollytuft sighed, remembering how Thornclaw had decided to retire early. His grief for his dead son, Stemleaf, had become too much for him to handle. Hollytuft wondered how Eaglewing felt about Stemleaf's death. She still seemed stoic and clear-headed after his death, perhaps even more so.

And so, the ThunderClan cats began to return to camp.

Chapter Text

"Yarrowleaf?" 

Flashes of battling cats. The sounds of garbled screaming. Rushing water. The wailing of her kits. The sight of Nettle's paw batting her across the cheek.

"Yarrowleaf."

The sight of Rowanclaw's body, as his blood slowly streamed from his wounds, with Sleekwhisker laughing beside him.

"Yarrowleaf!"

She ran. Oh, how she ran. But not even the strongest of cats could run from their past.

"Wake up!"

The ginger she-cat's head arose, panting. She looked up at Berryheart, her amber gaze wide. Berryheart frowned at her, tilting her head. 

"Would you wake up already?" Berryheart's fire-like eyes narrowed. "You've been asleep for too long. Rowankit and Birchkit will probably have grey snouts by the time you wake up from your next nap!"

Yarrowleaf stared at her paws. "I'm sorry." She said quietly.

Berryheart's frustration seemed to fade. "Did you have that nightmare again?"

Yarrowleaf replied with a simple nod. Berryheart's eyes softened, and she bent down to affectionately lick at her sister's ear. "Oh, you poor thing. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Yarrowleaf replied quickly. "I-I shouldn't have stayed asleep for so long. I can go and find some prey now, if you'd like me to get to work?"

"What do I look like? Cloverfoot?" Berryheart raised her head, rolling her eyes. "Just relax! Hopwhisker and Flaxfoot will be back soon, anyways."

Yarrowleaf awkwardly looked away. She's telling me to do something that she's just berated me for.

Berryheart seemed to notice her inconsistency and cleared her throat. "Or you could go hunting? I mean, I'm quite busy teaching Firkit and Whisperkit about how to play-fight safely after what happened last time, but I'm sure there's plenty of other cats available!"

Yarrowleaf forced a small smile. "Thanks."

Yarrowleaf shakily got to her paws, with a loud yawn. She followed Berryheart outside, and recoiled slightly at the sight of the golden sun. She could hear Rowankit and Streamkit playing nearby, giggling and purring. She spotted Tawnypelt and Pouncestep sharing tongues by the apprentice's den, while Whorlpelt and Grassheart walked past them. 

Berryheart padded off, presumably to go and help Firkit and Whisperkit. Yarrowleaf stared around, wondering which cats were available to join her while she went hunting. 

Yarrowleaf scanned the hollow, until she eventually set her eyes on her father, Scorchfur, sat by himself near the fresh-kill pile. Yarrowleaf did feel slightly nervous, considering how rocky their relationship had been during recent times. However, Yarrowleaf was determined to try and calm herself after her horrific dreams.

She approached the dark grey tom with an awkward smile. Scorchfur raised his head, his golden gaze narrowed. He nodded at her. "Yarrowleaf."

Yarrowleaf dipped her head. "Would you like to go hunting?"

Scorchfur looked around, and got to his paws. "I don't see why not. The clan could always use more prey." 

Yarrowleaf smiled. It felt nice to be with her father. He was a dark grey tom, his fur reminiscent of the color of storm clouds on a moonless night. Standing at an average height, he possessed a strong and muscular build, a testament to his warrior training and the battles he has faced. 

The most prominent feature of Scorchfur was his rugged and battle-scarred appearance. His ears, in particular, bear the marks of countless encounters with foes. Both of his ears are slashed and torn, evidence of his bravery and the sacrifices he has made in the defense of his clan. One ear, in particular, has a noticeable tear, adding an extra element of distinction to his appearance.

Yarrowleaf stared at her paws. She didn't look anything like either of her parents. Her mother, Snowbird, was a pure white she-cat, her fur pristine and lustrous, resembling freshly fallen snow on a moonlit night. Her coat is sleek, hugging her lithe and well-muscled body, a testament to her agility and physical prowess despite her limp forepaw.

Yarrowleaf, meanwhile, was a ginger she-cat, her fur resembling the vibrant hues of autumn leaves. Her coat was a rich blend of fiery oranges and deep reds, which seemed to flicker and dance in the sunlight. Her yellow eyes resembled the sun in many ways.

It was quite odd for a cat like her to have been born from cats like Snowbird and Scorchfur. Yarrowleaf shrugged the thought away quickly. She shouldn't focus on herself, she should focus on the world around her.

Besides, Yarrowleaf needed to take some time away from her thoughts for a while.

Yarrowleaf and Scorchfur slowly began to pad to the camp's entrance. They passed by Cloverfoot, who gave them a respectful head dip. "Where are you off to?" She questioned.

"Hunting," Scorchfur began. "We won't be out for long."

Cloverfoot nodded. "Alright, stay safe."

Yarrowleaf dipped her head as she and Scorchfur continued forth. They barged past the undergrowth, and stepped out onto a settlement of weeds. They simply padded over them, as the sound of chirping birds filled the air.

Yarrowleaf smiled slightly, feeling the sun beaming down across her pelt. It was a warm day. Greenleaf was being quite prosperous, it seemed.

"We should try hunting near the ThunderClan border," Scorchfur suggested. "Mice are always plentiful there."

"Good idea." Yarrowleaf replied with a flick of her slim tail. The two warriors continued along a dirt path, as the sounds and scents of the woods fluttered around them. They eventually found themselves in an area where the scent of wood mice could be found. Scorchfur dipped his head and quietly padded into the undergrowth to catch some prey.

Yarrowleaf crouched down, scenting prey nearby. She slowly moved forward, sniffing upward. Her ears flicked with caution as she spotted a small sparrow in the nearby clearing. Her eyes became slits as she bunched her legs together. She leapt forth and pounced onto the small creature, killing it with a quick bite. 

Yarrowleaf sat up and smiled, already able to taste the bird in her jaws. Birds had always been her favorite. And now, she got to eat one!

Chapter Text

Harestar stared down at the hollow from the high-rock, as he groomed his white pelt. His brown ears flicked, and his light green eyes blinked. It was another seemingly peaceful day in WindClan.

Beside him was his deputy, Crowfeather, who was overlooking the area with his usual narrowed gaze. His sleek and muscular frame was adorned with a rich coat of dark grey fur, so deep in hue that it often appeared to be almost black, adding an air of darkness and intensity to his overall presence. His fur was short and glossy, reflecting a subtle sheen under the sunlight. Harestar would never say it aloud, but sometimes he envied the warrior’s ability to avoid looking old despite being a senior warrior.

Harestar spotted Kestrelflight and his new apprentice, Whistlepaw, returning from gathering herbs. He padded down to talk with them in an instant, but not before giving Crowfeather a respectful dip of his head, which was returned.

“Hello,” Harestar began eagerly. “How are things?”

“We’ve gathered enough yarrow to last us for the next few moons!” Kestrelflight reported, with a smile. “And Whistlepaw’s getting smarter already; she’ll probably be the one teaching me in a few moons!”

Whistlepaw smiled, sheepishly staring at her paws. “I wasn’t that incredible.”

“Oh, don’t humble yourself.” Kestrelflight gave his apprentice a playful nudge. 

“Listen to him,” Harestar smiled. “A good apprentice is an eager apprentice, who wants to learn. Therefore, you know what you are?”

“A good apprentice!” Whistlepaw grinned.

“Very good! Now, how about you help Kestrelflight with storing all those herbs, hm?” Harestar’s head tilted. He watched as the apprentice eagerly dashed towards the medicine den. Kestrelflight purred and followed her.

Harestar smiled and stared over at the camp entrance as the hunting patrol, consisting of Breezepelt, Heathertail, Sedgewhisker and Featherpelt, arrived. Breezepelt’s eyes were narrowed as usual, and the first thing that the scrappy tom did was greet his daughters, Brindlewing, Appleshine, and Woodsong. 

Harestar sighed, wondering if he’d have his own family someday. Breezepelt was around his age, yet he’s already had two litters with Heathertail. Crowfeather had raised a good son in terms of Breezepelt. 

However, in all honesty, Harestar saw more of an honorable personality in Heathertail. She’d make a good deputy if WindClan were to lose Crowfeather.

Heathertail padded over to Harestar with a small smile. Cloaked in the warm hues of earth and adorned with intricate patterns, her brown tabby pelt was a neat tapestry of rich, chestnut brown. The velvety texture of her fur seemed to shimmer under the sunlight, accentuating her lithe and agile physique. 

“We encountered a ThunderClan patrol near the border,” Heathertail began. “They were friendly, and we faced no trouble with them, but I think it’s worth reporting.” 

Harestar dipped his head. “Splendid, thank you!”

Heathertail dipped her head and padded off to speak with Breezepelt. Harestar sighed, seeing how in love they were. Breezepelt seemed to lose all of the angry edges of his sharp personality whenever she opened her mouth. They were perfect for one another.

Harestar hoped he’d find something like that in his life someday.

“You heard me! I put my paw on that rabbit first, that means that I get to eat it!”

Harestar turned over to look at the fresh-kill pile. Hootwhisker was stood there, glaring at Slightfoot with a dead rabbit in front of his paws. They appeared to be having an argument. Crowfeather got to his paws, preparing to deal with the situation. Harestar turned to him, holding his tail erect. 

Crowfeather’s head tilted. “Are you sure that I shouldn’t handle this?”

Harestar scoffed. Does he think I can’t handle this on my own? I’m this clan’s leader, for StarClan’s sake!

Harestar didn’t respond, and simply began to make his way over to the arguing warriors. “Alright, what’s going on here?”

“I caught that rabbit this morning, during the dawn patrol.” Hootwhisker began. “And I was saving it for later. But Slightfoot thinks that he can just prance over and take it for himself!”

“You can’t just call dibs on prey, mousebrain!” Slightfoot responded angrily. “Have you forgotten the warrior code? The clan must be fed first!”

“Oh, shut up!” Hootwhisker spat, his dark grey pelt bristling. “That only applies to kits and elders!”

“Whatever! Just get something else from the pile!” Slightfoot growled.

“Both of you, enough!” Harestar ordered, with a shrilled tone. However, the two young cats didn’t listen. They simply continued to yell at one another, bickering. 

“Enough! Enough, I said!” Harestar growled, bleating. He felt his fur bristling. Why won’t they listen to me?

Some of the watching cats looked over at Harestar, pleadingly. However, the young tom didn’t know what to do.

“Both of you, stop this nonsense.” Crowfeather shouldered past Harestar, with bent ears and narrowed ice-blue eyes. Slightfoot and Hootwhisker looked over at the deputy in an instant, fear in their gazes.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Crowfeather began, with a sigh. “You’re warriors, not apprentices. In fact, I think that this rabbit should go to someone else. I forbid either of you to eat this rabbit.”

“B-But-“ Hootwhisker began, only to back away as Crowfeather gave him a warning glance. Hootwhisker dipped his head and padded off to the warriors den. Slightfoot, meanwhile, padded to one of the spare dens in defeat. The clan began to disperse, going on with their day.

Harestar looked over at Crowfeather, feeling embarrassed. His own clanmates hadn’t listened to him, yet they followed Crowfeather’s words in an instant. Was it because he was older? Stronger? Overall better? 

Or was it because Harestar was a coward? Harestar had betrayed his clan twice in his life; the first time was when he trained in the dark forest as a warrior, and the second was when he followed the teachings of Ashfur. But Harestar didn’t understand why; he was stupid! He was young! Surely he’d atoned enough?

Harestar stared down at his paws. Was he always going to be a symbol of the weaklings that the dark forest had churned out? After-all, hadn’t Onestar chosen him as that symbol? 

Was Harestar worth anything at all?