Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Say goodbye, kittypet.”

Tiny felt his breath squeak helplessly out of his lungs as his assailant’s teeth dug into his skin. The massive brown tabby had his jaws clamped tight around Tiny’s neck, ready to snap it like a twig. And from the sounds of it, he was about to.

Tiny closed his eyes, unable to take another breath, fully prepared to never open them again…

“Stop, Tigerpaw!” the blue she-cat screeched. “That’s enough!”

The jaws finally lifted, though a giant brown paw planted itself firmly in the middle of Tiny’s chest, pinning him to the ground, threatening to crush him with its weight.

The tabby scowled up at the she-cat. “I was just defending our territory,” he grumbled.

“And you’ve done that,” the she-cat said, her voice filled with concern, yet steady and confident. “This kit has learned his lesson.”

The paw rose from Tiny’s chest. He scrambled to his paws, ears flat against his head, every muscle in his body ready to make a break for it. He looked up into the amber eyes of Tigerpaw, not a drop of remorse in them. If anything, he was disappointed to have to let the kit free.

Still, his lips were pulled back into a smiling snarl. “Yeah,” he growled. “You’ll never forget me.”

With that, Tigerpaw turned to his companions, and the three turned back into the forest where they came from. Tiny shivered, the feeling of those powerful jaws still burrowing into his skin, those long claws still stinging his face, the hot breath still clinging to every hair on his pelt.

He had to get out of here.

But where else could he go? The forest would be full of more of those bloodthirsty cats, and from what the tabby said, they were extremely defensive of their territory. If he went back home, the twolegs would find him, and throw him in the river, like Ruby said.

The claw-wound on his face began dripping blood. It ran down his cheek and along his lips, falling right into his mouth. The metallic tang bit back at him, shook him to his core.

He had no home, now.

He sighed, turning back to look towards his home one last time. There were so many fences, he forgot which one he came through. But as he looked, he saw a figure of another cat approaching him. The adrenaline returned to his body.

Every muscle told him to run, ached to bolt out away from the stranger. But he couldn’t move. His legs locked themselves into place.

“S-stay back!” he warned, his voice shaking so much he wasn’t sure the words made it out.

But the cat continued approaching.

A she-cat, definitely. Tall and lithe, but with trained muscle beneath her soft pelt. Her sharp face and long ears framed piercing amber eyes the color of sunshine. Her black fur nearly sparkled in the light, the errant white patches practically glowing. And behind her slithered a long, black tail.

“Wh-who are you?!” Tiny shouted. “What do you want from me?!”

The cat stopped in her tracks, tilting her head curiously, her expression blank and hollow. She blinked down at him, then continued walking past him, off down the line of fences towards the twolegplace.

Tiny’s legs finally started obeying him again. Weird, he thought, watching her walk off.

Before she got very far, however, she turned back to him and cocked her head again. Tiny paused, unsure of what to do. The cat smiled a bit, flicking her tail to summon him closer, then began walking again.

Does…she want me to follow? he thought.

With nowhere else to go, he swallowed hard and followed the stranger off into the twolegplace.

The two continued walking along the rows of fences, occasionally stopping to cross some obstacle or avoid another cat.

The stranger remained silent through their whole journey. Tiny did the same.

After a while of walking, the stranger turned to a hole in one of the fences. It was too small for her to follow, but just big enough for Tiny to slip through. She gestured again, urging him in.

Tiny hesitated. Who knows what could be on the other side? A dog? Twolegs? More of those bloodthirsty cats?

But the stranger’s eyes were kind, and something about her felt safe to Tiny. Though she had never spoken a word to him, he felt he could trust her. Tentatively, he peered through the hole in the fence.

No dogs or twolegs, thankfully. But there was a cat. A round orange tabby, his belly out to the sky, soaking in a puddle of sunlight. His round face pulled back in a drowsy smile, a collar around his neck, and one white paw curled up against him.

Tiny’s heart jumped, looking down at his own white paw.

He had heard his mother speak well of his father, the cat who had really given birth to him. And by all means, this cat matched toe-to-tip.

Tiny turned back to the stranger cat. “Thank-”

But she was gone. The ground where she stood wasn’t so much as disturbed, as though she were never there to begin with.

His heart sank. Had he been dreaming? Or hallucinating? Or did she just abandon him here in the hopes his father would accept him?

But his thoughts were interrupted yet again.

“Hello?” called a voice. “Is someone there?”

Tiny turned back to the yard to see the orange cat staring straight back at him with big, green eyes. But he looked kind. And he didn’t sound angry. Tiny took a breath for courage and stepped through the fence to greet this cat.

“H-hello, there,” he started. “C-could you help me?”

The orange cat rose to his paws, his eyes growing wide. “Who are you? What happened to you?” he began, rushing over. “You look like you’ve just lost a fight with a forest cat!”

Tiny’s gaze turned. He felt his ears getting hot, and pulled them down in shame. The orange cat blinked. “O-oh…” he said. “Are you alright? I’m sure my twolegs could--”

“Um,” Tiny interrupted. “Are you Jake?”

The orange cat jumped a little. “Ah, yes! Have…you heard of me?”

Tiny nodded. “My name’s Tiny, sir. My mama’s name is Quince. She says you’re my dad.”

Chapter Text

ALLEGIANCES

WindClan

Leader

Tallstar - tall black-and-white tom 

Deputy

Deadfoot - lean black tom with a twisted left forepaw 

Medicine Cat

Barkface - dark brown tom with a short tail 

Warriors

Moor Runners

Rushtail - skinny, creamy-brown tom 

Oatwhisker - creamy-brown tabby tom 

Larksplash - calico molly

Stagleap - huge dark brown tom

Pigeonflight - dark gray tom with white patches 

Rabbitear - pale brown molly with a fluffy white belly

Flytail - snowy-white tom 

Wrenflight - round brown molly

Onewhisker - lithe brown tabby tom 

Tunnelers

Darkfoot - dark blue-gray tom with a lighter underside 

Crowfur - black tom with patchy fur 

Mudclaw - wiry, dark brown mottled tabby tom 

Tornear - gray tabby tom with a shredded ear 

Ashfoot - broad-faced gray molly

Bristlebark - black tom 

Morningflower - tortoiseshell and white molly

Queens

Sorrelshine - gray and brown molly, mother of Flytail’s kits (Runningkit, Webkit, and Whitekit)

Elders

Plumclaw - small, dark gray molly

Appledawn - pale rosy-cream molly

Cloudrunner - pale gray tom with sleek fur 

Hareflight - light brown tom 

Lilywhisker - light brown molly with a twisted back leg 

Kits

Runningkit - light gray tabby molly

Webkit - dark gray tabby tom 

Whitekit - small pure white molly

ThunderClan

Leader

Bluestar - pale blue-gray molly

Deputy

Redtail - small tortoiseshell tom with a bushy ginger tail 

Medicine Cat

Spottedleaf - beautiful tortoiseshell molly with a dappled coat 

Warriors

Lionheart - golden tabby tom with thick fur like a lion's mane 

Whitestorm - big white tom 

Darkstripe - sleek black-and-gray tabby tom 

Runningwind - lithe light brown tabby tom 

Mousefur - small dusky brown molly

Brindleface - pale gray speckled tabby molly

Frostfur - beautiful white molly with blue eyes 

Speckletail - pale golden tabby molly

Patchpelt - small black-and-white tom 

Robinwing - small dusky brown molly with a ginger patch on her chest 

Tigerclaw - big brown dark tabby tom 

Rosetail - gray tabby molly with a pinkish-ginger tail 

Dappletail - pretty tortoiseshell molly with a lovely dappled coat 

Apprentices

Longpaw - pale tabby tom with dark stripes 

Queens

Goldenflower - pale ginger molly, mother to Tigerclaw's kits (Sandkit, Dustkit, and Ravenkit)

Willowpelt - pale gray molly with unusual blue eyes, mother to Graykit

Elders

Halftail - big dark brown tabby tom with half his tail missing 

Smallear - gray tom with small ears 

One-eye - pale gray molly, virtually blind and deaf 

Fuzzypelt - black tom with long, wild fur 

Poppydawn - long-haired, dark red tabby molly

Kits

Sandkit - pale ginger molly

Dustkit - dark brown tabby tom 

Ravenkit - small black tom with a white dash on his chest 

Graykit - long-haired gray tom 

ShadowClan

Leader

Brokenstar - long-haired dark brown tabby tom 

Deputy

Blackfoot - large black tom with growing white spots and huge, jet black paws

Medicine Cat

Yellowfang - old, dark gray molly with a broad, flat face 

Runningnose - small gray and white tom 

Warriors

Clawface - battle-scarred brown tom 

Stumpytail - brown tabby tom 

Cinderfur - thin gray tom

Brightflower - orange tabby molly with a broad, flat face 

Flintfang - gray tom 

Wolfstep - gray tom 

Brackenfoot - pale ginger tabby tom 

Rowanberry - cream and brown molly

Nutwhisker - brown tom with amber eyes 

Ashheart - pale gray molly with blue eyes

Deerfoot - light brown tom 

Tangleburr - gray and brown molly

Darkflower - black molly

Scorchwind - ginger tabby tom

Tallpoppy - long legged light brown tabby molly

Finchflight - black and white tom

Whitethroat - small black tom with a white chest and paws

Apprentices

Wetpaw - unusually small gray tabby tom

Littlepaw - unusually small brown tabby tom

Brownpaw - unusually small heavyset brown tom

Queens

Fernshade - slender tortoiseshell molly

Newtspeck - black and ginger tabby molly

Elders

NOTE: Elders have been removed from camp and can be found under "exile"

Kits

None.

SHADOWCLAN EXILE

Nightpelt - lean black tom

Hollyflower - dark gray and white molly

Crowtail - black tabby molly

Ashfur - thin gray tom

Archeye - gray tabby tom with thick black stripes

Featherstorm - dark brown tabby molly

Volepaw - unusually small light brown tom with a mangled back leg

Dawncloud - small, pale ginger molly

RiverClan

Leader

Crookedstar - huge, light brown tabby tom with a twisted jaw 

Deputy

Oakheart - dark, reddish-brown tom 

Medicine Cat

Mudfur - thick furred brown tom 

Warriors

Rippleclaw - silver and black tabby tom 

Ottersplash - pale ginger molly with white patches 

Owlfur - brown and white tom 

Softwing - small, snowy-white molly with tabby patches

Graypool - dark gray molly

Shimmerpelt - glossy, night-black molly

Piketooth - skinny, dark brown tabby tom 

Voleclaw - gray tom 

Petaldust - tortoiseshell molly

Beetlenose - sleek tom with crow-black fur 

Blackclaw - smoky-black tom 

Skyheart - pale brown tabby molly

Leopardfur - dappled golden tabby molly

Frogleap - muscular gray tabby tom 

Sedgecreek - brown tabby molly with a long tail 

Reedtail - pale gray tabby tom with a long, thin tail 

Loudbelly - dark brown tom 

Mallowtail - white molly with tortoiseshell-tabby patches

Dawnbright - ginger-and-white molly

Mistyfoot - pale blue molly

Stonefur - pale blue-gray tom 

Emberdawn - dark ginger molly

Vixenleap - black molly

Grasswhisker - brown tabby molly

Silverstream - silver and black tabby molly

Apprentices

Whitepaw - dark brown tom with white paws 

Queens

Mosspelt - soft tortoiseshell molly

Lilystem - pale gray tabby molly, mother to Loudbelly’s kits (Shadekit and Heavykit)

Elders

Cedarpelt - mottled brown tabby tom with a short tail 

Timberfur - big brown tom

Tanglewhisker - long-haired tabby tom

Kits

Shadekit - very dark gray molly

Heavykit - thick brown tabby tom

Cats Outside Clans

Tiny - sleek black tom with ice-blue eyes and one white paw 

Rusty - orange tabby tom 

Jake - orange tabby tom with one white paw 

Nutmeg - brown tabby molly

Quince - dusty gray molly with amber eyes

Ruby - pale gray molly

Socks - black-and-white tom

Tommy - stout brown and white tom

Filou - ginger tabby tom with green eyes

Luna - black and ginger molly

Princess - light brown tabby molly

Red - lean, dark ginger tabby molly

Boulder - pale gray tom with blue eyes

Sasha - pale cream molly with a darker face, paws, and tail

Smoke - soft, well-kept silver molly with blue eyes

Melody - brown tabby and white molly

Chapter Text

Tallstar chuckled to himself through a mouthful of rabbit. His younger siblings, Wrenflight and Bristlebark, sat either side of him, sharing news of the day and joking around.

“So, how’s your former apprentice doing?” Tallstar asked as Bristlebark took another bite of the shared rabbit.

Bristlbark chewed for a second, mulling over his words. He was always a quieter sort. “Ashfoot’s good,” he said eventually. “Been working on the tunnel to twolegplace.”

Wrenflight nodded. “It’d be great to get that back entrance to Thunderclan. We have a harder time getting in through the forested areas. We could pin them back against ShadowClan or lock them in their camp if we need to, then.”

Tallstar raised an eyebrow teasingly. “You almost sound like you want a war with the Thunderheads, Wrenflight! We’ve been at peace with them for seasons!”

Wrenflight flicked her tail. “Doesn’t mean we’ll always be,” she said. “You know ThunderClan. They could wake up tomorrow and decide Fourtrees is theirs and theirs alone!”

“We can’t get to RiverClan through the tunnels,” Bristlebark pointed out.

Tallstar nodded. “Yes, but only because of the gorge. Keeps us on even paws. If they wanted to start something, they would have to go through ThunderClan.”

“ShadowClan’s the real trouble,” Wrenflight mumbled. “Those fox-hearts would lead an army to our camp for a single mouse.”

“We’ve got fat mice,” said Bristlebark.

Tallstar sighed. Their relationship with ShadowClan had always been a rocky one, but since Brokenstar became leader, things had only gotten worse. At least leaders past had been willing to accept a retreat. Or let them speak at Gatherings, or even just give them a moment’s rest. Brokenstar seemed less like he was trying to teach them a lesson and more like he was trying to wipe them out. Not a season ago, they had lost Mistmouse to one of Brokenstar’s warriors in a border skirmish. And she was just another one of those felled at ShadowClan’s claws.

As his siblings spoke, Tallstar’s eyes drifted around camp. Lilywhisker and Hareflight sat in a patch of sun, sharing tongues and bickering. It was rough to see Hareflight in the elders’ den now, but Lilywhisker seemed happy to have her brother as company. Mudclaw and Ashfoot had just come back from tunnel work, Ashfoot with a lucky catch of a young rabbit in her jaws.

Deadfoot, Tallstar’s deputy, was working with Oatwhisker to repair a draft in the nursery, but they were having a tough time working around Flytail playing with his kits. He was pretending to be a huge badger breaking through the camp walls, but the three little ones seemed to be doing a good job of defending their camp from the intruder. Sorrelshine, the kits’ mother, sat in the entrance, chuckling at the scene and cheering on her kits.

Tallstar sighed again, leaning down to take another bite of the rabbit, hoping to get some of it in before Bristlebark wolfed it all down. Despite the knowledge of ShadowClan pressing their border, things seemed alright in WindClan for the moment. And he was determined to savor it.

A burst of energy interrupted his thoughts as one of his warriors burst through the tall grass outside the WindClan camp. All eyes turned to face a sleek brown tabby who looked as if he had just run across the entire territory without so much as pausing for breath.

Deadfoot took a few steps his way. “What’s wrong, Onewhisker?” he asked. “Fire on the moors?”

Onewhisker shook his head. “K-kittypets…on the ShadowClan border…Say they gotta speak with Tallstar.”

So he had run across the territory.

Wrenflight blinked. “Kittypets?” she echoed. “What do they want?” She turned to Tallstar. “You know anything about this?”

Tallstar shook his head. “Only one way to find out,” he said. He licked his lips clean, then rose to his paws and shook off his pelt. “Alright, Onewhisker,” he said, approaching the young warrior. “Take me to them.”

The first thing Tallstar saw cresting the rise was three cats. The first two, his own warriors; his younger sister, Rabbitear, and an old friend, Stagleap. The third was a stranger, yet oddly familiar. Approaching the group, he locked eyes with the sleek black cat, his angular face and bat-like ears showing little to no emotion, yet a curiosity shone in his ice-blue eyes. He was short, thin, yet every feature was long and spindly. Smooth black fur rippled against the waves of wind like the afternoon grass on the moors. All with a purple band around his throat, and offset by a stark-white right paw. A scar ran across his right eye, a chip in his left ear, all at a stature no taller than a newly-named apprentice.

Rabbitear and Stagleap turned to face the newcomers. “Ah!” Rabbitear exclaimed quietly. “Tallstar! You made it!”

Tallstar nodded. “Is this the kittypet Onewhisker was talking about?” he asked, sizing up the stranger.

“Two of them,” Stagleap corrected. “The little one’s hiding behind him.”

Sure enough, Tallstar caught a glimpse of movement in the grass behind the kittypet, who turned to wrap his tail around his companion. The kittypet gave Tallstar a quizzical look. “You must be Talltail,” he said, his voice light but raspy.

“Once,” Tallstar said. “Though it has been a while since anyone called me that. My full name is Tallstar. And you are?”

“Tiny,” said the kittypet. “And this-” He paused, reaching back to push the other kittypet forward. Tallstar stifled a gasp as the fiery orange pelt popped out, soft fur and round green eyes and all. Tiny turned back to Tallstar. “-is Rusty.”

Rusty was small. Absolutely a kit, around the same age as Flytail’s. His eyes shone wide with wonder as he looked up at Tallstar. “Hi,” the kit squeaked, a nervous enthusiasm keeping his voice quiet.

Tallstar paused. He’s a perfect copy! he thought. There’s no way he isn’t Jake’s.

Still, he cleared his throat. “Tiny, Rusty. What can I do for you two? Surely you wouldn’t have come all the way from twolegplace just to say hi.”

Tiny shook his head. “No, afraid not. You see, Rusty and I had heard of you. From our father.”

Our? So the two were brothers, then.

Tiny continued. “He said if we were ever in trouble, we should come find you. And…well…”

“I don’t wanna get thrown in the river!” Rusty shouted. “I can’t swim! And it’s nasty!”

Tallstar cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

Tiny sighed. “This is all to say, Jake sent us. I’d like to speak with you more about this…” he paused, turning to the other WindClan warriors. “...in private.”

Tallstar hesitated. He couldn’t just let these cats wander into WindClan territory, could he? But if Jake sent them…

He nodded. “Alright. If you’d be willing to come back to camp with me, we can talk there.” A nod from Tiny, and he turned to his warriors. “Rabbitear, Stagleap, finish up your patrol. Onewhisker, back to camp with us.”

It felt as though every cat in the clan was looking at them as the group walked into WindClan camp. Tallstar led the charge, with Tiny carrying Rusty with him, and Onewhisker at Tiny’s side. Tallstar stopped briefly in the middle of camp, giving Tiny time to set Rusty down. The kit clung to his brother, but his eyes were wide with excitement.

Tallstar stopped to dismiss Onewhisker, then led the visitors into his own den. Dark, and a little cramped for three cats, but still good and private. A bush in front of the entrance deterred evesdroppers.

“Now, then,” Tallstar said, keeping his voice down. “What is it you came here to tell me?”

Tiny paused, eyes fixed on Rusty. “You see, sir,” he started, “Papa - Jake - always told us about you. Always had stars in his eyes when he did. Said there’s no cat he’d trust more if we were in trouble.”

Tallstar sighed. “I’m flattered,” he said wistfully. “Downright honored. I’d say the same to him.” He paused. “But I’m guessing that means you need my help.”

Tiny nodded. “See, twolegs tend to take kits away from their families young. So Jake gave me and my littermates to an old friend, Quince, hoping we’d be safe from that. But my littermates got taken anyway, and I ran off back home with Papa. My little siblings are getting older now, and he didn’t want that to happen again, so…”

“So he sent you here to give the kit to me,” Tallstar finished. A pause. “But what about getting thrown in the river?”

“Oh, that.” Tiny looked down at his paws. “Well, er, Rusty heard me talk about being an unwanted kit when I was little, and that rumor that unwanted kits get thrown in the river.”

“That doesn’t really happen, though…does it?”

Tiny shrugged. “Happened to a friend’s litter not too long ago…I tried finding them on the river, but…”

Tallstar shook his head. “Twolegs. Vile creatures, really.”

Rusty stepped up. “Please, mister!” he squeaked. “Don’t let me get thrown in the river!”

“You’re not getting thrown in the river, Rusty,” Tiny said, wrapping his long tail around the kit. “That only happens to unwanted kittens, like me. Not cute kittens, like you.”

Still, Tallstar sighed. “But why here?” he asked. “If Jake wanted you to be safe, he wouldn’t have sent you here. Surely he knows the path of a warrior is a hard one.”

“He always said Rusty had a heart for adventure,” Tiny explained, looking down at his brother. Rusty smiled wide. “Always called him a ‘little warrior.’ Didn’t think he’d do well in the twolegplace at all. Besides…” Tiny looked back up, locking eyes with Tallstar. “...he wanted us to stay with family.”

Tallstar blinked. “Family?” he echoed. “What family? I thought--”

His own thoughts cut him off. He looked Tiny over again. Sharp features, slender build, short fur, black pelt…and, of course…a long thin tail.

The silence hung in the air for a few moments too long. Yes, it’s true he had gone to visit Jake a season or two ago, but…

Tallstar turned to Rusty, now. The sight of the ginger pelt, at first seeming inherited from Jake, now reminded him of the little ginger kit he met in StarClan, and knew as his only littermate. Rusty had to be around three moons old or so. If that was true…

Tallstar turned back to Tiny. “I…I see,” he muttered. “You would be…”

Tiny gave a small but slow nod. “He always told me our father was a great warrior, and one of the greatest cats he ever knew.” He paused. “We’ll pull our weight. Won’t eat more than our share. Won’t snore, won’t complain. We’d earn our share and put our hearts into our work. But it’s up to you whether we stay or not.”

Tallstar stared down at Rusty, then back to Tiny. “I’d gladly have you,” he said, his voice wavering a little. “But I worry you’re stepping into something you don’t fully understand. And I’m worried the others may not take kindly to outsiders joining their ranks.”

“Understandable,” said Tiny. “Papa said you’re trained up from birth. Without any training, I can see why the others would be upset with us.”

Tallstar chuckled. “Not quite from birth, no. We begin training at six moons, so Rusty wouldn’t be starting for a while, yet.”

A wave of relief seemed to flow through Tiny.

Tallstar continued. “Tell you what, Tiny. We can start your own training today, as an…informal apprentice. You’ll train until Rusty is ready to become an apprentice himself, then we’ll see about having you join properly. How does that sound?”

Tiny’s expression was hard to read, but he seemed to be smiling. “That would be wonderful, sir.”

Tallstar shook his head. “Please,” he said. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

Rusty jumped to his paws and bounded over to Tallstar. “Can we call you ‘Dad’?” he asked, his enthusiasm bubbling out, tail lashing excitedly.

Tallstar smiled. “‘Dad’ works just fine.”

Chapter Text

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Tallrock for a clan meeting!”

Tiny's eyes darted about the camp as the cats began to converge. Tallstar had waited until everyone was back in camp, and it only now hit Tiny just how many cats there really were in WindClan.A white tom ushered gray kittens back into a den on the edge of camp, a few pale brown cats poked their heads out from behind the rocks beside the entrance. A slender silver tortoiseshell jumped down from a small ledge, a dark blue tom in tow. Still more poured out from every crack in the camp, it seemed, and Tiny could feel Rusty's anxiety building.

He wrapped his tail around his brother, trying to quell the little kitten's shivering. And yet, he could not quite shake the nerves himself, feeling the fur beneath his collar beginning to stand on end as yet more eyes scanned him. A large black tom and a small brown molly. A tall silver cat with piercing blue eyes. Two scruffy tan toms...

They all converged in the middle of camp, some turning up at Tallstar, though it was fairly clear to Tiny that they were trying to avoid looking at him too much. Others were even less subtle, the kindest among them simply looking with curiosity at the little bundle of orange fur behind him. A few, less kind eyes fell right on his collar. Tiny took a breath, and waited for the meeting to begin.

“This past leafbare has been a harsh one,” Tallstar projected. “And not simply for the season's sake. But WindClan has survived worse, and we have survived this. And as a new season welcomes us, perhaps our fortune is beginning to turn, at last.” He gestured down to the newcomers. “These two are Tiny and Rusty. My sons. Here all the way from twolegplace. Through ThunderClan and ShadowClan territories, come to join us and train as warriors themselves.”

Tiny shuddered. ThunderClan? Why did the name make his stomach churn?

“Kittypets?!” a voice piped up as one of those cream-colored cats butted his way to the front of the crowd. “Have you forgotten what happened last time? You can't make warriors out of kittypets! May as well make a badger out of a mouse!”

“These are no mere kittypets,” Tallstar reiterated. “These are my kin , Rushtail. And they aren't here for a mere adventure.” Tallstar met eyes with Tiny, nodding towards the crowd.

Tiny blinked. Does...he want me to explain?

He cleared his throat, looking at the gathered cats. Rushtail's eyes were still boring holes into his pelt. “We are thankful for your hospitality,” he started, terribly aware of a slight shake in his voice. He hoped it was lost in his tone. “Rusty and I both. We can no longer live with the twolegs, as they intend to harm us should we stay. And so, we have come to join WindClan, though ultimately, it is your decision whether or not we stay. But I promise, with every hair on my body. We will earn our place here. And we will prove to you that we are no pampered kittens.”

“Y-yeah!” Rusty chirped, stepping over Tiny's tail and puffing his chest out. “We're gonna be real wild cats! Just like our dad!”

A light chuckle rippled through the crowd. Rusty turned back to Tiny, beaming. “Did...did I do it?” he asked, his voice shaking.

Tiny nodded. “You've done great. I'm sure they'll all love you.”

Tallstar continued. “Rusty will begin his training in three moons, along with Sorrelshine's kits. At that time, he and Tiny will make their own choice. Having seen what a warrior's life is like, and giving us time to assess their aptitude. Until then, Tiny will have his own informal training. I expect the rest of you to treat both of them with the kindness my family deserves.”

With that, Tallstar turned to jump down from the Tallrock, landing close to Tiny. The crowd didn't disperse right away, instead talking amongst themselves, whispering and muttering. Tiny tried not to think about it. They were just curious, was all. Right?

Tallstar flicked his tail, signaling for someone to join him. “You two did great!” he said with a smile. “I know change is hard for my clanmates. But I'm sure you'll fit in just fine!”

Tiny sighed, his breath wavering more than he liked. “Ah...thanks again for letting us stay.”

“Don't mention it. You two are always welcome in my home.”

As Tallstar spoke, a new cat trotted up to them. Black fur, shining green eyes, and a twisted left paw, all with a bright and charismatic smile. “You wanted to see me?” His voice was smooth and calming as he approached the three.

Tallstar nodded, then turned to Tiny. “This is Deadfoot, my deputy,” he said. “Second in command around here. Keeps WindClan spinning when I can't. He'll get you two settled. I've got some business to take care of, but feel free to come speak with me if you need to.”

With a final nod, Tallstar turned and walked off into camp.

Deadfoot flicked his tail. “Well then, let's see...you know the Tallrock, where Tallstar holds clan meetings. His den is set into the cliff behind it. Next up would be the camp entrance, then Hunting Stones. More or less just a big pile of rocks that get nice sun. Past that is the elders' den.”

“The old cats get their own den?” Rusty asked.

Deadfoot's whiskers twitched as a smile crept across his face. “Yup! You wanna go check it out? I'm sure Lilywhisker and Hareflight would love to meet you!”

Rusty's eyes sparkled as he began bouncing on his paws. “Yeah! Let's go! I wanna meet everybody!” With that, he took off, getting a few steps ahead before tripping and falling flat on his face.

Deadfoot chuckled. “Certainly got your paws full, eh, big bro?”

Tiny sighed. “Daddy's little warrior indeed.”

Those two pale brown cats were still sitting just outside the den. One a tom, stretching his long legs out in the sunlight. The other, a molly, curled up on her back and watching the group approach. She smiled sweetly as Rusty bounded towards her, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure Tiny and Deadfoot were following.

The tom blinked his eyes open after a wide yawn, looking down at them from the top of the incline. “Well well well!” he said. “If it isn't our newest recruits! Tiny and Rusty, was it?”

Tiny nodded. “Yes, sir. Very happy to meet you.”

The molly giggled to herself. “Such manners!” she said, righting herself to look at him. “No need to be so formal around here, dear. We're all family, after all!”

Rusty scrambled up the incline towards the den, puffing his chest out to the two when he got to the top. “My name's Rusty!” he declared. “I'm gonna be a warrior cat!”

The two had to bite their tongues to keep from laughing. “I'm sure you will, son,” said the tom. “The name's Hareflight. And this here's my sister, Lilywhisker.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Lilywhisker said with a dip of her head.

“A pleasure?” a new voice came from within the den. Tiny heard a scoff as a near pink tabby molly poked her head out the door. “A racket's more like. You're out here giving pleasantries to the kittypets while some of us are in here trying to sleep? Go sit on Hunting Stones if all you want to do is laze around in the sun and gossip.”

Lilywhisker rolled her eyes. “Haven't been able to get on Hunting Stones in moons, not with this bad leg acting up.” She kicked a back leg dismissively. Tiny couldn't help but notice the way the joint sat crooked in that leg, and a bend in the middle where there was definitely not supposed to be one.

“All you do is sleep in the sun,” the tabby griped. “No wonder your joints are stiff.”

“And all you do is complain, Appledawn,” Hareflight said back. “Not much to do around camp but those two things.”

Lilywhisker laughed. “No wonder Larksplash refuses to retire! Poor thing'd be bored stiff with us!”

“And near deaf from Appledawn and Cloudrunner's whinging,” said Hareflight with a nod.

Appledawn huffed, turning her back to them. “Well, at least try to keep it down a little. Plumclaw's not deaf yet, and I'd sure like for her to get some rest.”

As she disappeared into the den, Rusty turned to Lilywhisker. “What happened to your leg?” he asked, looking it over. “Did you get it in a fight? Did some big, scary monster get it?”

Lilywhisker shook her head. “Nothing that exciting, I'm afraid. A tunnel collapsed, and I tried to play hero and got crushed for it. Been stuck in the elders' den ever since.”

Tiny cocked his head. “Tunnel?” he echoed. “Like a cave system or something?”

“It's WindClan's secret weapon!” Deadfoot chimed in. “Most of the warriors are moor runners. Meaning cats who catch prey and mark borders above ground. Tallstar, Hareflight, Onewhisker, Rushtail and I, we're all moor runners. Or, at least, Hareflight was, before he retired.”

Lilywhisker nodded. “But not me. I was a tunneler. Cats who dig in a massive network of tunnels underground. The other clans don't know about it, so it's a huge advantage!”

Rusty's eyes grew wide. “You live underground? Like moles?”

Lilywhisker chuckled. “Not quite. We still act like warriors. Still hunt, fight, train apprentices, that sort of thing. But we also work digging the tunnels. It's a hard job, but it's one of WindClan's best resources! Rabbits who try and hide underground don't know what hit 'em! If we need to escape from an attack, we just slip away unseen! Makes a world of difference!”

Tiny turned to Deadfoot as Rusty kept asking questions. “I heard a few clan names before. Shadow and...Thunder? How many clans are there?”

“We're one of four,” Deadfoot explained. “WindClan lives on - and, well, under - the moors. ShadowClan has the marsh to the dawn side of here. We don't share a border with ThunderClan, but they have the forest bordering twolegplace. You must have walked through there to get here. The fourth is RiverClan. They're across the gorge from us, so we don't really have a border with them, either. But they swim and eat fish and stuff.”

“And you all live together in peace like that?”

“We're supposed to. But ShadowClan has really been pushing our border lately. Their new leader is...aggressive, to say the least.”

Tiny paused. “Who leads the other clans?” he mumbled.

Deadfoot blinked. “Well, Brokenstar's the leader of ShadowClan. Nasty fella, sooner take your whiskers than let you speak, just to show he's in charge. His deputy is Blackfoot, he's a brute with more muscles than brains. Basically just does what Brokenstar wants. RiverClan's got Crookedstar. He's a good one, good head on his shoulders. But definitely a tactician. He takes his opportunities whenever he sees them. His deputy is his brother, Oakheart. He's...decent. A little too showy, if you ask me. Sure, he can talk big, but all he's done in moons is badger ThunderClan about some sliver of land on the wrong side of the river. ThunderClan has Bluestar. She can lead a clan better than most. Keeps the balance in her territory even while squabbling with RiverClan. But still compassionate enough. Her deputy is Redtail. He's nice. I don't think he's leader material, but he's good at what he does. Can win a battle just as well as make peace. Friendly and approachable. But I think he stumbles over himself a bit too often to lead a full clan.”

Tiny closed his eyes. Bluestar of ThunderClan, huh? Maybe that's where he had heard it before.

“You okay?” Deadfoot asked. “Looking a little...ruffled. You feeling alright?”

Tiny opened his eyes and nodded. “I'm fine. Don't worry about it.”

Deadfoot paused, quirking an eyebrow. “If you say so. But let me know if that changes.”

“Tiny!” Rusty called, bounding back down the incline. “Let's go meet everybody else! I wanna get to know everybody!”

Tiny smiled, nodding. “Alright, then.” Turning to Deadfoot, he added “Lead on.”

“There's no designated warriors' den,” Deadfoot explained, tripping over the ginger kit weaving through his paws as he walked. “We sleep in the open, more or less. There's a big patch of long grass we sleep in, instead.”

“What about when it rains?” Tiny asked, cocking his head with a jingle of his collar. “Don't you get soaked sleeping like that?”

Deadfoot shrugged. “We make do. The grass usually keeps it dry enough if it's light, but when it really pours, we usually split up into the other dens.” He nodded towards the grass patch, pointing out the nests hidden underneath. “Back when Tallstar was a kit, moor runners and tunnellers usually slept apart. But his predecessor, Heatherstar, wanted to get rid of the tunnels. She hated them, thought they were dangerous, made every apprentice she could into a moor runner. By the time Tallstar reinstated them, everyone got so used to sleeping together, no one wanted to change.”

“Why'd she wanna get rid of the tunnels?” Rusty asked, stopping in his tracks. Deadfoot stumbled to keep himself from tripping over him. “Lilywhisker said they're a good thing. They sound cool!”

“They are,” Deadfoot said. “They've been a huge help ever since Shattered Ice, the first tunneler, started the practice. But everyone was too loyal to their roles, rather than their clan. It was like the clan was split down the middle. Moor runners didn't appreciate tunnelers. Tunnelers thought moor runners were too stuck up. They just didn't mix. Even Hareflight and Lilywhisker stopped speaking.” He shook his head. “Heatherstar was a moor runner until her dying day. Didn't understand why we needed the tunnels. But, I suppose, she did bring us together, in a strange way.”

“Tallstar was the one who brought us together.”

Tiny whipped around to see who had just joined the conversation. The dark blue tom, accompanied by a gray molly, laying in a patch of sun and glaring over his shoulder.

“Don't give Heatherstar so much credit for splitting us apart,” he huffed.

The molly's whiskers twitched. “Someone died , Darkfoot,” she said. “Tallstar's father died. Lilywhisker was gravely injured. She did what she thought was best. Not saying she was right, but she wasn't crazy, either.”

Darkfoot sighed and turned back to his companion. “I know, I know,” he said. “It just feels so rotten that we had to catch up on so much, when we could have learned tunneling from day one.”

“You two certainly seem talkative today,” Deadfoot said. “Why don't you introduce yourselves to our new friends?”

Darkfoot rose to his paws, stretching his back with a few pops. The molly followed suit, shaking off her pelt. She took a few steps towards Tiny and Rusty. “Sorry, that was rude of us,” she said. “I'm Ashfoot.” She flicked her tail towards Darkfoot. “This is Darkfoot. I know he's a bit prickly, but he's not so bad when you get to know him.”

“Hey!” Darkfoot said, giving her a playful shove. “I'm just rugged, is all.”

Tiny dipped his head. “A pleasure to meet you both,” he said.

Rusty bounced up to them. “You two look really strong!” he chirped. “Are you tunnelers? Like Lilywhisker?”

Darkfoot nodded, smiling. “Sure are! Good eye, kit.”

Rusty beamed. “What are the tunnels like? Are they dark? Are they scary?”

“Cold. But kinda nicely so. A bit dark, but you get used to it after a while. The real trick is keeping track of where you are.”

Ashfoot nodded. “It's confusing at first. You gotta constantly be thinking of where you would be topside. But once you get oriented, it's like the back of your paws.”

Rusty's eyes were wide. “It sounds really cool!” He whipped around, turning to Deadfoot. “Can we go see them?!”

Deadfoot chuckled. “Not until you're older, little one,” he said. “At your size, you could get lost and we'd never see you again.”

Rusty pouted, but Darkfoot took a step towards him. “You kidding? That bright orange fur...he practically glows!”

“He'd sure stick out,” Ashfoot added. “Sure more than the rest of you. You and Crowfur, and Bristlebark, too! You all disappear into the shadows before my eyes even have time to adjust! It'd be a nice change of pace working with someone I can see.”

Darkfoot shoved her again, the two laughing and prodding each other. Rusty turned to Tiny. “Can I be a tunneler?” he asked.

Tiny shrugged. “If that's really what you want to be, I don't see why not.”

Rusty's little face lit up as he began bouncing around again. “I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna be a tunneler!”

Deadfoot chuckled. “Sounds like you've made up your mind. But let's take things one step at a time. We've still got a few more cats to meet, remember?”

Rusty jumped. “Oh, yeah! I wanna meet the other kittens!”

Darkfoot waved, Ashfoot chuckling as the orange kit turned and began bouncing off again. “Hope to see you in the tunnels, Rusty!”

Chapter Text

“And this is the nursery!”

Deadfoot stepped to the side, presenting the thick gorse den. “This is where kits and nursing queens stay. So, I suppose, this is where you’ll be staying, at least for now.”

Rusty bounced right up to the entrance to the den, poking his head inside. It was dark, but warm and cozy. Looked like a good spot for a nap. He scanned the space, a few empty spots where nests would go, now cleared out for the time being. The gorse ceiling so thick no light or wind passed through the dense branches, but the sounds of the hawthorn tree above swaying in the wind could still be heard, just loud enough to coax a sleepy kit to drift off.

The sight made Rusty feel safe. The journey had been a rough one, as Tiny led him - or rather, carried him - through the dark woods of the wild cats territories. ThunderClan, they had said. Tiny was obviously uncomfortable through the whole trip, and hadn’t relaxed much even now. So Rusty stayed by his side, trying his best to cheer up his big brother. His antics usually worked when Tiny had another nightmare, or when he was in a bad mood.

But today, it seemed as though nothing helped. Tiny was just…on edge. Every step through the forest was taken with extreme caution, every beat of a bird’s wing or rustling bush in a gust of wind sent him into shock, like a mouse caught in the path of a hungry predator. What he was so afraid of, Rusty didn’t know. Tiny was the bravest cat he knew. Granted, he didn’t know very many, but-

“Hiya!”

Rusty’s head whipped around, landing barely a kitten whisker away from another cat. Piercing amber eyes and sharp teeth curled back in a ready smile, ears at attention, standing tall and proud, yet eager to move.

His paws moved faster than his body as he scrambled backwards, stumbling over himself and landing on his back with his paws in the air. He wormed his way to his paws, righting himself and quickly taking a defensive stance. He once again turned to face the source of his surprise.

A couple of mischievous giggles bubbled out from the two gray kits standing in front of him. One sleeker, one fluffy. Both laughing heartily.

“Really gotcha, didn’t I?” the fluffy one cackled. A tom, the one with the amber eyes, and though he was laughing at Rusty’s misfortune, a playful glint shone in them.

The other nodded. “He looks like a puffed-up sparrow!” the sleek one, a molly, agreed. She could barely get the words out between her laughs, and looked about like she was going to fall over herself.

Rusty tried to force his fur to lay flat. “Y-you startled me, is all!” he whined. “I-I-I…I just…”

The laughter only continued as his ears grew hot, his shoulders buckling, wishing with every hair on his pelt to disappear.

“Runningkit! Webkit!” The snap of a scolding mother came from within the nursery, and shortly afterwards, a tall brown and silver molly appeared over the two gray kittens. “Be nice to the new kit! He’s had a long day, I’m sure.”

Stepping through the entrance, she smiled down at Rusty. “Hello, little one,” she said, her voice much calmer. “You must be Rusty, yes?”

Rusty nodded, still feeling the heat on his pelt. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

Pawsteps approached behind him. “And I’m Tiny,” was the response.

The molly nodded. “Sorrelshine,” she said sweetly. “So nice to see some fresh faces around here. I’m sorry for the little ones’ behavior. I don’t know where they get their manners from.” She turned back to the two gray kittens, now standing just outside the nursery entrance. “You two, apologize,” she said curtly with a flick of her tail.

Runningkit blinked. “For what?” she asked. There was a bit of a sneer in her tone.

“For scaring Rusty,” Sorrelshine said. “He’s our visitor, and he may be a clanmate soon. So you’d best be kind to him.”

Webkit stepped up to Rusty, a bit of a bashful droop in his posture. “Sorry for startling you,” he said.

Sorrelshine’s ear twitched. “And…?”

Webkit blinked. “And for laughing. We were just trying to have some fun. But I’m sorry for what happened.”

Rusty paused a bit. Was he really sorry? But his eyes seemed kind, and he didn’t hurt him directly. Just scared him a little. Besides, if he wanted to fit in, it would do good to make some friends. Rusty nodded. “S’okay,” he said. “Happens.”

Sorrelshine turned to Runningkit. “Your turn,” she said.

Runningkit huffed. “Why? It’s not my fault he got hurt!”

“You were making fun of him, weren’t you?”

“It was funny!”

Sorrelshine’s eyes narrowed. She reached a paw back and pushed Runningkit forward. “Say you’re sorry.”

Runningkit looked at Rusty. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for laughing at you.”

Rusty nodded. “It’s okay,” he repeated, but something in her face told him she didn’t really mean it.

Webkit bounced back up to Rusty, his tail wiggling playfully. “C’mon, I’ll show you around the nursery!” he squeaked, rocking on his paws. “You still gotta meet Whitekit! And I’ll show you some of the games we play!”

Rusty smiled, then turned back over his shoulder to Tiny. “Can I?” he asked.

Tiny shrugged. “Don’t see why not,” he said.

Deadfoot nodded. “You get comfortable, Tiny and I can go grab some stuff to make you a nest in here, okay?”

Rusty beamed up at him. “‘Kay!”

Before he even turned around, Webkit was already pulling him into the nursery. Tiny chuckled to himself. “Best behavior, okay?”

Rusty nodded. “See ya later!” With that, he turned and scampered off after Webkit into the den.

Tiny looked down at his paws, watching them move as he walked. The rhythm was soothing, especially after such a long day. His head was spinning trying to keep all the names of the cats he had just met in order. Lilywhisker and Hareflight were elders, along with Appledawn and Plum…claw? There was another, Cloud-something, he hadn’t met but someone mentioned. Those two were Ashfoot and Darkpaw - or wait, ‘paw’ was for apprentices, right? Dark foot , like Deadfoot. Rushtail was the one who yelled at him at the gathering. And the queen, Squirrelshine? Or…Sorrel, that was it. Sorrelshine.

On top of all this, he was trying to keep those other clans in mind. Brokenstar led…RiverClan? Who was his deputy again? He felt like all his thoughts were tripping over each other.

One name, though. One name, one clan, he could pin for sure. Bluestar of ThunderClan. He knew her. He knew her face . Deadfoot had explained that some ranks got different name structures, and ‘star’ was for leaders. Meaning Bluestar was probably…he was sure.

That was Bluefur, the cat that had stopped Tigerpaw from killing him when he was a kitten.

Come to think of it, Tigerpaw probably had a full name now, too. There was a third cat, as well. Thistleclaw.

He knew these names better than his own. He heard them echo in his dreams. A reminder of the day his life changed, as constant as the jingling of the bell on his collar. Background noise. And yet, he could still recall them with little effort.

“Daydreaming again?”

Tiny jumped as Deadfoot called to him. The two had been out collecting moss and sheepswool and all sorts of things for nest building, along the way picking up two of the moor runners who had their paws empty. Oatwhisker and…Larksplash. Those were their names. Tiny looked to them, all observing him curiously.

He shook his head, as if the act would shake loose those thoughts stuck in his mind. “I’m fine,” he said.

Oatwhisker cocked his head. “See, that’s the thing,” he said. “You’ve said you’re fine, like, three times now. And each time, we believe you less.”

Tiny sighed. “It’s just…it’s been a long day.”

Larksplash nodded. “Well, we’ve probably got enough for a good night’s sleep, at least. We can head back, if you’d like.”

“Sun’s setting, anyway,” Deadfoot agreed, gazing up at the amber sky. “We should get back before-”

“ThunderClan!” Oatwhisker called out. His ears raised, he gestured for the others to join him.

Tiny’s pelt stood on end. ThunderClan. But as Deadfoot and Larksplash trotted up to meet Oatwhisker, he found his curiosity outweighing his fear, and took a few tentative steps towards the group, looking down from a small hill and following Oatwhisker’s gaze towards the ThunderClan cats.

A ways away still, but definitely with paws on the moor, four cats weaved through the tall grass. A dark tabby leading the charge, followed closely by a skinny pale tabby bounding after with a long tail held high. A bit further back, a tortoiseshell and a gray tabby lagged behind, speaking among themselves. Apart from the dark tabby, whose tail lashed every step of the way, the group seemed lax and undisturbed by the fact that they had just strayed into another clan’s territory.

Deadfoot smiled. “Let’s say hi!” he declared, before cresting the rise and starting down the hill. Oatwhisker was quick to follow after.

Tiny jumped in his fur. “Say hi?” he hissed. “Aren’t they trespassing?”

Larksplash shook her head. “They’re on their way to the moonstone, no doubt. See the lanky one? That’s Longpaw. Apprentices are supposed to make the trip before they become warriors. That’s probably why they’re here.” She turned to Tiny, taking note of something in his eyes. “If you don’t want to talk to them, you and I can stay up here and we can just…watch?”

Tiny nodded. “Yeah that…that sounds good.”

Larksplash led him a little further up the hill, before taking a seat in the grass and motioning for him to do the same. From his perch, he could barely hear the conversation, but he could see the cats well.

Deadfoot made the first approach, walking up to the tabby at the head of the charge. “Darkstripe!” he called.

The tabby turned his head, ears flat against his skull. “Deadfoot. And Oatwhisker.” His voice was low and coarse, an agitated mistrust staining his tone.

“Deadfoot?” Longpaw echoed. “You’re the WindClan deputy, aren’t you?” His face was calm, but his tail continued to snake curiously behind him.

Deadfoot nodded. “You must be Longpaw. Robinwing’s, yes? And on your way to the moonstone, I see.”

Longpaw smiled, but a quick jab from Darkstripe set him back into a professional stance. “Yes, sir. My assessment’s coming up soon, so Darkstripe insisted I make the trip this moon.”

Tiny turned to Larksplash. “What’s the moonstone?” he whispered.

“That’s the place we commune with StarClan, our warrior ancestors. It’s a massive stone laid in the earth underground, that shines in the moonlight. It’s a sight to behold, I’ll tell you.” Her voice drifted off wistfully as Tiny turned back to eavesdropping.

Darkstripe’s tail was lashing. “Look, we’re on a mission. We’ve got somewhere to be and I’d like to get there before-”

“Dappletail!” Oatwhisker cut him off as the tortoiseshell approached. “How are you? It’s good to see you! You were missed at the last Gathering!”

The tortoiseshell, Dappletail apparently, drooped her head. “It’s good to see you, too. I’ve been…holding on. It’s been a tough few moons. Cricketpaw…”

Oatwhisker shook his head sadly. “I heard. I’m so sorry. StarClan always takes the good ones young.”

Dappletail threw her chest out and swallowed hard, regaining her composure. “I figured it would do me some good to join in on the walk out here. It’s always beautiful this season.”

Tiny turned back to Larksplash. “Cricketpaw?”

She sighed. “One of Dappletail’s kits. Poor thing passed away this leafbare, along with a few others. Sickness hit ThunderClan hard.”

Tiny’s mind began racing again. Sickness? It made sense, all these cats living together out here. Sure, Deadfoot had told him about medicine cats, Barkface especially, but sickness was never a problem he had to face living with his housefolk. They always took care of him.

Besides that, these cats looked tough. He’d heard of the territory disputes, the fighting over prey…and now this…

Was he doing the right thing? Was Rusty safe here?

Or would it be better to just disappear, learning to fend for himself? Or he could find another housefolk to take them in, or…

StarClan always takes the good ones young.

Could he take that risk?

Darkstripe’s bitter tone cut back into his thoughts. “We really ought to be going if we’re going to make it before sundown,” he snapped.

Longpaw nodded. “It’s late already. We should go.”

The gray tabby blinked. “Oh?” she said, her voice a little too cheery for Tiny’s taste. “But I haven’t even gotten to tell them about Goldenflower, yet!”

Dappletail sighed. “There’ll be plenty of time for that at the next Gathering, Rosetail.” Her eye roll was palpable. “StarClan knows you’ll be there.”

“But the little ones!” Rosetail protested. “They’re getting so big! And Dustkit! He already looks so much like Tigerclaw! Little brown tabby, and these adorable little paws! Oh, you really should see him!”

Adrenaline shot through Tiny like a massive wave of ice water. Tiger claw. A brown tabby. That had to be him!

Tiny whipped around, shooting to his paws and facing Larksplash head on. “Take my collar off,” he hissed.

Larksplash’s eyes grew wild as the fur on the back of her neck stood on end. “What?” she whispered. “Why?”

“Just do it!” he barked. “Get it off of me before I do it myself!”

Larksplash hesitated, then reached up and grabbed the purple band in her teeth. She pulled, ripping the material one fiber at a time, and then all at once. The collar fell limp, the golden bell hitting the ground with a sad chime.

Tiny shook himself off, feeling the wind on his neck for the first time since as long as he could remember. He looked at the collar, then locked eyes with Larksplash. “Thank you,” he said, standing a little taller now.

Before she could ask any more questions, he turned and lept over the rise of the hill, flying down the grassy landscape faster than he ever had before, wind whistling through his ears. His heart was beating hard against his chest.

He was really doing this.

Larksplash’s concerns were only just barely audible as he hit the bottom of the hill, trotting up with newfound confidence towards the wild cats. Deadfoot and Oatwhisker’s eyes grew wide as he approached, but he kept his eyes firmly on the ThunderClan patrol.

He locked eyes with Longpaw first, his expression blank as he could manage to keep it, but it was clear he was fighting an urge of curiosity.

Darkstripe sneered at him, suspicion still readily evident on his face. “Who’s this, huh?” he snapped. “Never seen him around before.”

Dappletail blinked, then turned to Deadfoot. “Taking in loners, are we?” she said playfully.

Tiny shook his head. “Sorry, just thought I’d come introduce myself,” he said, keeping his voice cool, though his heart was still pounding in his ears. He turned to Deadfoot. “That alright?”

Deadfoot stood, a little in shock. “Uh…that’s fine, but…are you sure…?”

Tiny shrugged. “No good in backing out now, is there?” He turned to the ThunderClan cats, dipping his head respectfully. “Pleasure to meet you all. I’m Tallstar’s son. I’ve come a long way to rejoin my father, though I’m certainly happy to be back where I belong.”

Rosetail’s eyes shone. “Oh! Well, I can certainly see the resemblance! You’ve got his looks, that’s for sure!” She giggled to herself. “Lovely to meet you!”

Tiny smiled. “Likewise, miss…?”

“Rosetail.”

He dipped his head again, this time just to her. “Charmed.”

Dappletail shot him a curious smile. “I didn’t know Tallstar had a son,” she said.

He returned a polite smile. “A few, actually. Though my younger brother and I are the only ones who have returned to the clans.”

Longpaw blinked, then leaned in to whisper to Darkstripe. “I thought Tallstar didn’t have a mate?” he whispered. “Rosetail said he wasn’t into she-cats.”

Tiny chuckled. “It’s a long, long story. But family’s family, and home’s home. I’m just glad to have found mine again.”

Dappletail smiled. “Well, you’re certainly a little charmer.”

“We are late ,” Darkstripe said again. “You two gossip-hogs are going to have to explain to Bluestar when we don’t make it to Tigerclaw’s kits’ apprentice ceremony in a moon!”

Rosetail sighed. “Alright, alright. We’re going.” She turned back to Tiny. “It was lovely to meet you…ah, pardon. I didn’t catch your name?”

Tiny paused. He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

If he was going to sell that he was a part of WindClan, he’d need a warrior name. One to fit in with everybody, but one all his own. He searched his mind frantically, trying to find a good name quickly before they got suspicious again.

It came to him in a flash, in a voice not his own. Like someone else had leaned in and whispered it in his ear.

Perfect.

He smiled brightly. “Palecloud,” he said, puffing out his chest just a little.

Dappletail’s eyes flashed with something. Recognition? She smiled sweetly. “What a lovely name. It suits you beautifully.” She turned back to Deadfoot, nodding her goodbye. “Wonderful to see you all.”

Deadfoot blinked. “Nice to see you, too.” His voice trailed off as he watched the ThunderClan patrol walk off towards the moonstone.

Tiny let his fur lie flat, taking a few good breaths to reset his heart. “What a nice bunch,” he said, ignoring the incredulous stares from his companions. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a long day. What say we head back?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned back up the hill to collect his bundle of nest material. As he walked, he managed to catch just a sliver of a comment from Larksplash.

"Headfirst into trouble. He's certainly his dad's."

He didn't know why, but the comment made something in his chest warm with pride.

Chapter Text

“Alright, let’s try that again.”

That night was rough. Sleeping in a new place always is. But the next morning, Tallstar took Tiny out hunting, to get a good feel for his abilities. He wasn’t fond of the tunnels, but the wind…it flowed along his pelt in waves, whipped past his ears. His paws soared over the ground as if the wind at his sides could carry him off any second.

It occurred to him, in those moments, that he had never run like that before.

Sure, he had space enough in the twolegplace, back within the fences of his housefolk’s yard, but he could never just pick a direction and…

Fly.

“He runs like a rabbit,” he had overheard Tallstar say to Deadfoot. “No doubt in my mind. He’ll make a fine warrior.”

The words made him swell with pride. When Jake complimented him, it always felt like the sweet things a parent says about any kit. Whether it was true or not wasn’t the point. When Rusty said those things, it was easy to take it as him looking up to an older sibling. Anything he did was impressive in Rusty’s eyes.

“Keep moving! Don’t leave your blind spots open!”

But when it was Tallstar, and he was talking to Deadfoot, it felt like a genuine appraisal. Like he was excited to see that he didn’t have to lie to be proud.

He didn’t catch anything on that first patrol. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to see where he stood with no training. And according to Tallstar, he stood on solid paws.

The next time they went out, they focused on bringing something back. Some things were natural; you can’t outrun a bird, stay downwind, don’t leap before you know where you’ll land. But Tallstar helped guide him on the things that felt right, but weren’t all there. The hunting crouch ingrained in his body, seemingly built into him as a cat, was fine enough. But over generations, warriors of the wild had perfected the technique. You want to put your paws here, but you get more distance like this. You want to balance like that, but it’s better to put your weight here.

Tiny walked into camp later that day with a large blackbird held proudly in his jaws.

“Don’t let him get back up! Throw your weight around!”

It had only been about a quarter moon. But Tiny already felt like he was getting the hang of this. It helped that the things warriors did were so natural for cats. Hunting, patrolling, even helping Barkface with his herb stores made so much more sense to him than the fake mice and bland food pellets of his old life.

He felt right. Like he was at home.

Still, he always found himself missing Jake and the other kittens. He wondered what would become of them, if he should have brought even just one more along with him. And that urge to protect Rusty certainly didn’t die down with his training. If anything, it intensified. He wanted to be stronger, faster, smarter, all so he could protect the ones he cared about. Rusty always came first. But now he had a whole clan to be a part of. Kin to train to protect. Walls to barricade and a fresh-kill pile to keep topped off.

Somehow, all this was comforting. Intellectually, he knew he should feel worse with this responsibility on his shoulders. But his heart felt steady. Sure.

“You catch all that, Tiny?”

This wasn’t an insurmountable responsibility, one to crush him with its impossible weight. It gave him something he wasn’t aware he lacked.

“Tiny?”

Purpose.

“Tiny!”

A batting paw on the top of his head snapped him awake from his daydreaming. He blinked, locking eyes with Pigeonflight, an unimpressed look on the spotted tom’s face.

Tiny paused. “Sorry,” he said, his voice even. “Guess I wandered off.”

“He wasn’t even looking?!” Rabbitear pouted from her perch atop Flytail’s shoulders, pinning him to the earth. “C’mon, Tiny! That was my best one!”

Flytail wriggled out from under her, rising to his paws and shaking the dust and leaves from his pelt. “Wow, suddenly it’s like you didn’t need to kick me in the head so many times,” he grumbled, sorting his whiskers. “You play rougher than the kits do.”

“It’s not play!” Pigeonflight said, his nose high. “It’s battle training. And it’s important! Important to pay attention to…” He growled the last few words, turning back to Tiny.

Tiny rose to his paws, stretching his back out and giving a hearty yawn. “I don’t see how watching Rabbitear and Flytail squabble is going to win a war,” he said, stretching out that one weird kink in his back right leg. Must have slept on it wrong.

Pigeonflight rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’d like some paws-on training?” he suggested. “I’m sure Flytail’d be happy to trade places.”

Flytail nodded. “Yeah, see how long you can last with squirrel-brain over here!” He gave Rabbitear a shove. The intention seemed playful, but he was a little too mad to come off as anything but.

Tiny shrugged. “Alright, I’ll bite. Put me in.”

Rabbitear’s smile grew to her ears as Tiny trotted up to oppose her. “Let’s see what you’ve got!” she squeaked, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

Tiny gave a curt nod. It’ll be easier to take her on if she thinks I’m taking it easy, he thought, making conscious effort to keep his expression lax. He hoped the twitching of his muscles wasn’t visible under his dark pelt.

Pigeonflight stepped between them. “No claws,” he reminded them. “I don’t want to have to take anyone to the medicine den when we’re done.”

“A bit late for that,” Flytail groaned, laying out on his side in the midday sun. “Think she rattled something in my head.”

“Hush, you,” Pigeonflight snapped. “You’ll live.” He turned back to the combatants. “Anyway, no claws, no teeth, no blood. Got it?”

Rabbitear nodded. “Got it!”

Tiny gave his own small nod. Pigeonflight looked to both of them, then backed away from the clearing to give them space. “Show me what you’ve got!”

Tiny kept his movements controlled. From watching Rabbitear, he knew she could match pace with him easily. And though they were both rather thin, Rabbitear still had the size advantage on him, so he wouldn’t be able to brute force it.

He had a different idea.

He made the first move, jolting to attack her from the side. She caught the move fast and leapt out to stop him in his tracks. But he swerved at the last second, baiting her to move closer. As soon as she hit the ground, he lunged.

Past her.

He didn’t have the opening he needed.

Rabbitear pivoted on her paws to make the turn, not directly behind her but to her side, springing off the ground there and building up the momentum. She was a blur, and managed to close the distance faster than Tiny had made it.

That was his opening.

He couldn’t outspeed her, and he couldn’t outmatch her. His best chance was to outwit her, baiting her into moving faster than she could react. He put his side to her, making his body an easier target than his head.

If he could control the flow, he could control the battle.

Rabbitear took the bait, going for a body slam with her weight and speed. Tiny pivoted on his front legs and threw a swat into her, catching her on the back of the head as her paws crashed into the empty space he was in moments ago. She stumbled, trying to account for the difference in balance, managing to maintain enough momentum to throw herself into Tiny’s shoulders, knocking him back. He braced his back paws against her belly and pushed hard. Not to push her off, but to throw himself out from under her.

He twisted onto his paws and got some distance again, banking on the last attack taking the momentum from her. As soon as she saw him shoot away from her, she leapt out to catch him, but he managed to throw his weight into her while airborne.

The blow barely made a difference, and he quickly found himself pinned under brown paws.

“Say goodbye, kittypet.”

The voice wasn’t hers.

The massive brown paw pushed down into his chest, crushing the air out of him. Teeth as long as a dog’s wrapped around his throat, his brow stung as blood trickled down his face, obscuring his vision. Claws and teeth and hot breath cut through his fur, his skin, tearing at his collar, choking him.

The two gray cats watched from the side, neither lifting a claw to help. One watched in stunned terror, the other with a ghoulish pride twisting his lips back to reveal his own teeth. Hundreds of blood stained teeth, thin and prick-pointed as a hedgehog’s quills.

Tigerpaw’s amber eyes bore into his soul, eating through the walls he had built all those moons ago. His teeth dug hard into Tiny’s flesh, Piercing skin and threatening to snap his throat and spine in one swift movement with a sickly crunch.

Like a twig.

Like pigeon bones.

Like the fibers of his collar; one by one, then all at once. Choking, squeezing, breaking, bleeding.

Shadows crossed his vision. Birds, black and white, some in brilliant sunset hues, circled overhead above the scene of his death, as tree-trunk claws sank deeper and deeper past his skin and tore through his belly.

The teeth snapped down. The face he saw looking back was not Rabbitear’s. Nor Tigerclaw, nor any wild cat.

It was his own. Blood dripping from his mouth, claws as long as dog’s teeth, collar pierced through with shards of bone, ice blue eyes fiery with the vengeance he had long sought and finally captured.

His own fur was a tabby ginger, stained red with their shared blood.

I am Scourge, the reflection declared. I am Scourge!

No! he bit back. This isn’t me! This isn’t real!

It doesn’t have to be, that calm voice whispered. Scourge, Tiny, Palecloud. The choice is yours.

“Tiny!”

His eyes snapped back to reality. His throat intact, no blood spilt, no broken bones.

And no collar.

Feeling around for his wounds and finding none, his body breathed a sigh of relief that nearly sent his head spinning.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up, locking eyes with Rabbitear. And Flytail, and Pigeonflight. All looking at him with great concern.

He twisted, pulling himself to his paws.

“Who is Tigerclaw?” he asked.

Flytail blinked. “What? Did you hit your head or something?”

Tiny’s eyes grew wild. “Who is Tigerclaw?!” he repeated, venom on his tongue this time.

“A-a ThunderClan warrior?” Rabbitear stammered. “He has a mate, Goldenflower, and three kits…uh…”

“What does he look like?”

“Brown? Big brown tabby? Like.. big big. Bigger than Tornear. His fur’s kinda…wild? Not really long fur, but…with black stripes. And amber eyes.”

That was him.

“And the gray one? Gray tabby. White spots, black stripes.”

Pigeonflight shook his head. “What in StarClan’s name are you on about? We were in the middle of battle training and-”

“I know!” Tiny snapped. “I know, Rabbitear beat me. I need a name. ThunderClan warrior? Tigerclaw’s mentor, maybe? Warrior with Bluestar?”

Flytail flinched. The recognition in his gaze was uneasy. “Ah…Thistleclaw?”

The name rang like a bell in his mind. That was it. “What happened to him?”

“RiverClan,” Flytail continued. “He was killed in their Sunningrocks war. Died of…infected wound, I think. I dunno. You’d have to ask someone in ThunderClan.”

“He has a son, I think,” Rabbitear chimed in. “Whitestorm?”

Pigeonflight nodded. “And other family. Dappletail and Rosetail are his sisters. And Poppydawn, an elder, is his mother.”

Tiny paused. “I need to talk with my father,” he mumbled. “Something’s not right.”

“I’ll say,” Flytail said. “I’d rather have Barkface take a look at you.”

Rabbitear shuffled in place. “Didn’t mean to hit him so hard,” she said. “Sorry, Tiny.”

Tiny didn’t respond. His thoughts were elsewhere. All over the place, in fact.

Pigeonflight shook his head. “Alright, come on, then,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Let’s get you back to camp before you get all weird again.”

“...then that other cat, Bluefur, I think, told him to let me go. She said he had taught me a lesson.”

Tallstar sat across from Tiny in the medicine den, listening to the story with great interest. He nodded along quietly as Barkface checked Tiny over. He was certain there was no head injury, as he was walking and talking just fine.

“Psychological,” he had said. “Something about that fight with Rabbitear reminded you of something from the past. Something…traumatic?”

Tiny swallowed his pride and told Tallstar everything. It was probably for the best, but his voice shook more with every word.

Tallstar nodded, concern in his eyes. “And that was the last you saw of them?”

“Yes,” Tiny said, keeping his voice low. “But earlier, I was back. Back there, I saw their faces. I…” He could feel tears welling in his eyes as he choked on the words, dropping his gaze to his paws. “I wanted to kill them. I wanted to make them suffer.”

His eyes flicked back up to Tallstar. “That’s not right! That’s…not normal. There’s got to be something wrong with me.”

Tallstar paused. Tiny could tell he was mulling over his words, rolling them around in his head, getting them into shape, debating whether or not to say it at all.

Barkface was the one who eventually broke the silence. “Tell him,” he said, flashing Tallstar a scrutinizing glare from across the medicine den. “He’s your son. He should know.”

Tallstar nodded. “I know. It’s just…” He sighed. “I’m not proud of it.”

Before Tiny could ask, Tallstar rose to his paws, walking closer to Tiny and sitting down right next to him. Another awful pause hung between them for a moment.

“I know the feeling,” he said in a hushed rasp. “When I was young…my father died before I became a warrior.”

Tiny’s ears twitched. “How?”

“Natural disaster. It was an accident, no cat to blame. But still, I did blame someone. I hunted him down. I left my home and my clan to pursue a misplaced vengeance.”

A shiver ran down Tiny’s spine. Vengeance. That was the word that he - that Scourge - had used. He swallowed hard. “You killed someone?”

Tallstar shook his head. “In the end, Jake helped me come to my senses. I felt it wasn’t…what my father would have wanted.”

“So…I just…put it away?”

Tallstar paused. “What I’m trying to say is that it’s no reflection on you for feeling the way you do. Being hurt is natural. A better reflection is what you did. Realizing you shouldn’t act, and that you needed help. That’s what’s important.”

Tiny didn’t respond. Just stared at his paws. Not so much thinking as processing. Taking in the words, trying to connect with them.

But that dream wouldn’t leave his mind.

Was that what he would become?

Was that who he was supposed to be?

Tallstar stood again. “It took me a long time to really understand all this,” he said. “I’m just hoping I can help you understand it without the truly painful parts. Please, don’t be ashamed to talk to me about these things. If I can help, I will. You’re my son.”

“I think I just need some time,” Tiny said, not looking up from his paws. After a quiet pause, he added “Thank you for talking with me.”

Tallstar nodded with a smile. “Any time.”

Chapter Text

“You can stay for a bit, if you’d like,” Barkface offered. “It’s empty in here, anyway.”

Tiny blinked, looking up from his paws. Barkface turned to meet his gaze, looking away from his herb stores. “Since you said you needed quiet time,” he added.

Tiny nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good. Thanks.”

Barkface shrugged. “Of course, now that I’ve said that, something horrible’s going to happen and I’m going to be swamped,” he said playfully, turning back to his work.

Tiny paused. “Bet Tornear falls into the flooded tunnel again?” It had happened twice in the five days Tiny had been there.

Barkface chuckled. “I’m more worried about Crowfur starting a fight with a ShadowClan patrol again.”

“That happen a lot?”

“More than it should.” Barkface shook his head. “ShadowClan’s always looking for an excuse to fight. It started with Cedarstar. It was more for show than anything. But I lost my mother to his attacks.”

Tiny blinked. “I’m sorry.”

Barkface’s whiskers twitched. “After him was Raggedstar. Not as…direct. But still hard on us. Put all his effort into border skirmishes, yelled at us for small infractions. But it was…fine enough.”

“So what changed?” Tiny asked.

“His son. Brokenstar. Violent, greedy, bloodthirsty. He sees us as the weak link in the clans. Thinks we should be snuffed out, quashed. And we just aren’t defensively positioned enough to bite back.”

“What about the tunnels?” Tiny offered. “You could lead a counter offensive on him from behind. Go for the jugular when his back is turned. Use his assumption that you’re weak against him.”

Barkface shook his head. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered. “We would never win in an attack on their camp. And if we show him equal aggression, he’ll just come back stronger. He has an…awful tenacity. Our best bet is the other clans. Brokenstar thinks the whole forest belongs to him. But if he picks a fight with ThunderClan, we can organize together. He can’t defend both borders at once.”

“So you’re asking for Bluestar’s aid?”

Barkface nodded. “Tallstar and Deadfoot have been speaking to her in private. I’ve asked their medicine cat, Spottedleaf, to talk to her about it. She’s not against the idea, but she doesn’t want to take the first swing. Doesn’t want to start something that risky.”

“Hasn’t it already started, though?” Tiny snapped. “Didn’t you say this war with Brokenstar already had multiple casualties?”

“Yes, but Bluestar’s in a war of her own. A territory dispute with RiverClan over Sunningrocks.”

Tiny paused. “Flytail mentioned something about that. Has it been going on long?”

“Long as anyone can remember,” Barkface said, organizing the same pile of leaves for what Tiny was sure was the fourth time. “The stories about those two fighting over that damned pile of rocks go back to the founding of the clan, as far as anyone knows.”

“What even is it?”

“A good hunting spot. Lots of nooks and crannies for prey to hide in, a good vantage point over the river for fishing. In all honesty, though, RiverClan wants it because they think it’s theirs. And ThunderClan wants it because RiverClan wants it. Generations of bloodshed, and neither side would know what to do with the territory if they had it uncontested.”

Barkface sighed. “The point is, resources are stretched thin on all sides. And convincing ThunderClan to give up Sunningrocks for a moon to keep WindClan from dying is like trying to convince a dog to accept StarClan. There’s just no real easy option for us.”

Tiny paused. “Could I go to ThunderClan?” he asked. The question left his mouth before he had really thought it over.

Barkface turned around. “What for?” he asked. “Surely not to fix two whole wars!”

Tiny shook his head. “I’d like to talk to Bluestar, actually. Personally.”

Barkface paused, then nodded. “You want to ask her if she remembers you,” he offered.

“I want to ask her why she spared me,” he corrected. “And I want…I want to know what Tigerclaw is like. I want to see the cat he’s become. Show myself these feelings are old and outdated. Surely he’s not that cat, now.”

“Well, you don’t have to go all the way,” Barkface said. “You could join us for a full moon Gathering, if you really want to meet them.”

Tiny jumped a little. “Full moon Gathering?”

Barkface nodded. “All four clans gather at a spot near the center of the territories at the full moon. There’s a truce, no violence allowed. We mingle and catch up on clan news, there’s a lot of gossip, that sort of thing. I can talk to Tallstar about you going if you’d really like to meet everyone. But that might be a bigger commitment.”

Tiny paused. All four clans? Meeting face to face with more cats he’d never met? And worse yet, some he had. But, if it would help him put a cat to the names, it may do him some good. He could see Rosetail again, for one. Perhaps ask her about some things going on in ThunderClan. From what Darkstripe said, she would be more than happy to share.

Tiny nodded. “If you’d be able, I would appreciate it.”

Barkface smiled. “Sure thing! I’ll let him or Deadfoot know next time they drop by. Assuming I’m not busy, of course.”

“Barkface!” The scream from the camp entrance was guttural and wild. Tiny recognized the voice as Stagleap’s. “We need you!”

Barkface sighed. “What wonderful timing,” he grumbled, muttering to himself as he walked out the den entrance. “Always when I’m trying to have a conversation. Of course, there’s something more important than what Barkface has going on, always. No, no, it’s fine.”

Tiny followed him out. It sounded like things were about to get busy in there, and he decided to make himself scarce. Poking his head out of the entrance, however, his eyes met with a gruesome scene.

Deadfoot and Stagleap thundered into camp, both covered in blood that was not their own. Suspended between them, supported on their shoulders, was the limp body of another cat. Claw marks littered his pelt, and a nasty bite mark on his left hind leg preceded a tail mangled into unrecognition. It would be a miracle if Barkface managed to save it. The moor runner’s clouded gaze drifted in and out of focus, as a shiver ran up Tiny’s spine.

Rushtail .

Barkface examined him quickly, determining he was alive, even in as rough a shape as he was. He nodded to Deadfoot and Stagleap, leading them on through the camp towards the medicine den. Tiny slithered out of the way, giving the patrol room to get the injured warrior to safety. As they passed, Rushtail’s eyes looked up, fixing on Tiny for just a moment. The scent of blood and dirt and something else horrible clouded Tiny’s nostrils as he looked on in terror.

“Kittypet,” Rushtail managed to choke out.

Tiny swallowed hard as the group disappeared into the medicine den.

“A ShadowClan patrol?” someone asked. Morningflower, he remembered.

“Smells like a wet fox,” Bristlebark countered.

Fox! Tiny had never seen one himself. They usually shied away from the twolegplace. But he had heard the horror stories. The old cat at the end of the street used to tell him those things to keep him out of the forest. He had said foxes were bigger than any cat, and had a bite that could break bones. They always scared Tiny.

Pine was good at that.

As he grew older, he learned to stop listening to those things Pine used to tell him. They were just stories to keep him behaving well. But now, looking at Rushtail, slashed to mousedust, he wondered what else the mad old cat was right about.

After all, he was right about the warriors.

“A fox!” Cloudrunner balked. “On WindClan territory! Dumb animal!”

Hareflight sighed, rolling over onto the fresh moss bedding Tiny had brought in. “As if we didn’t have enough to deal with,” he groaned.

“Using a lot of ‘we’ for someone who lays around all day, aren’t you?” Lilywhisker teased.

Hareflight huffed. “I’m still WindClan, and we still need to deal with it!”

Tiny trotted towards the peach tabby sitting on the far side of the den by herself. “Is your nest in need of a change, Appledawn?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “I’d be plenty willing to do it, if you’d like.”

Appledawn’s whiskers twitched. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just waiting for the gossip patrol to stop talking nonsense so loud so I can get some rest.”

Tiny blinked. “You don’t believe it was a fox?”

Appledawn huffed. “Of course not! My son’s a mouse brain, but not enough of one to go try and take on a fox on his own! I’d like to think I raised him better than that.”

Tiny nodded. “It would be an odd move, for sure. And an ambush would be far more likely in the tunnels than in the open. Either a dumb cat or a dumb fox.”

“Exactly!” she chirped. “And I know that no son of mine, either him or Oatwhisker, is dumber than a fox.”

Tiny’s whiskers twitched in a smile. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your nap, then?”

Instead of responding, Appledawn rose to her paws. Her joints cracked with the movements, and her muscles twitched as she rose stiffly to equal Tiny. “Not going to get much luck in here, I’m afraid,” she said, starting towards the entrance. “I think I’ll go get something to eat, instead.” Turning back to Tiny, she added with a smile “Care to join me?”

Tiny paused. Appledawn hadn’t asked this of him before. “Ah, if you’d like some company,” he said, following behind.

The air in the camp was still tense, but the gears were slowly beginning to turn again. Warriors getting back to their duties, organizing patrols and shuffling off into their own little groups. Each one said it was for hunting, or tunnel work, or even to look for the supposed fox. But it was obvious, each and every one was looking to get away with their friends to talk doomsday about Rushtail. Conspiracy crafting about some ambush from ShadowClan, where a fox could be hiding, if another clan had discovered the tunnels.

It was all just a little dizzying.

Appledawn chose a prime spot on Hunting Stones, one usually occupied by Cloudrunner. He often acted like it was his and his alone, but with him complaining and bickering away in the elders’ den, the nice flat perch was free for Appledawn to claim.

Tiny made quick work of his task, fetching a good-sized lapwing from the fresh-kill pile, one he had seen Onewhisker bring back very soon after Rushtail’s return. Something good and fresh for the clan elder, he thought.

Appledawn’s eyes sparkled as he took his place next to her. The sun shone comfortably warm on his pelt, balanced out by a cool newleaf breeze.

“I was hoping you’d grab that one,” she chirped. “Who do we have to thank for this tasty catch?”

“Onewhisker,” he said, placing the lapwing down at her paws. “I thought I’d snag some of these feathers. I know Rusty likes playing with them.”

“What a good big brother you are,” she said with a smile more genuine than any Tiny had seen out of the elders’ den before.

Tiny sighed. “I sure hope so,” he muttered. “Seems to be just about the only thing I’m good at, recently.”

“Nonsense!” Appledawn snapped. “You had a bad day training. Everyone does. Especially fighting with Rabbitear. Flytail said he hoped the incident would reign her in a bit, even. Teach her not to tussle so hard in training.”

“Still,” he mumbled, swallowing a bite of the lapwing, “I’m not sure I’m really earning my keep. I promised Tallstar I would, but-”

“But nothing!” Appledawn cut in. “You’ve been here, what, five days? How much do you expect to have done? You’ve been hunting, taking care of the kits, Sorrelshine says she’s gotten her best sleep in moons now that you wear the little ones out so thoroughly! You’ve been cleaning our nests, no complaints, and even helped patch that nasty draft in the elders’ den! Barkface told me just yesterday he’s happy to have a pair of helping paws around that doesn’t whine about the herb smell. Why are you being so down on yourself?”

Tiny winced. “I…I just feel like I’m not…really one of you.”

Appledawn flicked an ear. “You’ve not even gotten a name yet! Where did standards this high even come from?”

Tiny could tell the look on his face told her the answer.

Her face morphed into a cross between shame and anger.

“It’s that coward son of mine, isn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, she sighed. “I’d thought I’d raised him better than that. There’s a line between clan pride and unwarranted prejudice, I’d said. I thought he understood that. Now he says the word “kittypet” like he’s coughing up blood. It’s always them . They did something wrong. They are the problem. Who “they” are is all that changes. ShadowClan, ThunderClan, kittypets, rogues…he’ll always find someone to blame, some problem to complain about. Clearly, I failed him.”

“It’s his problem,” Tiny said cleanly. “You didn’t make him the way he is, else his brother would be just the same, wouldn’t he? Yet Oatwhisker has no such qualms about working with me. It’s in his nature.”

Appledawn shook her head. “Perhaps it is. But I should have seen that, should have steered him away from being so… cold .” She turned, locking eyes with Tiny. “I do apologize for him, for his words. I’ll have a talk with him.”

Tiny paused, looking down at his paws and the lapwing in front of them. “I don’t care about how he treats me,” he said. “I know he’s stressed. He wants a safe place to call home, and he doesn’t know if he can trust an outsider to take up the responsibility. I’m just going to have to show him his biases are unfounded. I know he has a heart, and I know it’s not as cruel as his words are.”

Appledawn nodded. “He’s a good cat, when he has a purpose. Does what he can for others, seldom puts himself first. But he’s too headstrong. And, frankly, a little paranoid. His heart is in the right place, but I’ve no clue where his head is.”

Tiny sighed. “I’d like to have a talk with him, once he’s better,” he said, eyes drifting towards the medicine den. “I don’t want us to be at each other’s throats all the time. I think I’d like to speak with him, on his level.”

Appledawn smiled. “I think that’s a fine idea.”

In the end, the story came out.

When the flow of blood was staunched, and the wounds were bound, and a day’s rest dulled the initial wave of pain enough that he could speak, word of Rushtail’s story spread around camp like wildfire.

It was a fox.

On the edge of the territory, near Highstones, an old badger sett had lain dormant for moons and moons now. Many forms of life often took refuge in it. Rabbits were the most common.

Rushtail had gone to check if any had taken shelter there this season.

In short, no.

Though the sett was empty, the smell of fox was quite strong, and so Rushtail and his patrol had gone to close the entrance, forcing the fox to relocate somewhere medicine cats and apprentices were not frequently expected. The job was quick enough, though an angry fox returning to find cats smashing its den was not appreciated. The patrol split, trying to confuse the animal. Instead, it seemed to pick the brightest colored target to run down and attack. Deadfoot and Stagleap quickly leapt in and to the rescue, wounding the fox and chasing it off.

Unfortunately, Rushtail took a brunt of the attack before they managed to fight it off of him.

And worse still, there was now a fox loose on the territory.

Deadfoot organized patrols to look for the creature. Stagleap led a few himself, showing others where they had last seen it. The tunnelers started rounds of the tunnels in the area, searching for fox scent and hiding entrances with foliage. The kind with thorns, as an extra deterrent, though Mudclaw insisted most building materials of that nature were used to reinforce the camp walls, especially around the nursery. Those who had fought foxes before led battle training, showcasing the erratic fighting style of the animals.

And all the while, the ShadowClan border needed constant patrols.

The idea was thrown around, first scattering amongst the warriors as a quick thought, then growing into opinions. It was, ultimately, Crowfur’s idea; lead the fox into ShadowClan territory. Tallstar was quick to shut such talk down. The plan was risky, and undeniably an aggressive (and morally questionable) move on WindClan’s part.

Either way, step one was to find the thing. And that was proving tricky. It had left the territory, seemingly. But some swore the scent was fresh. As if it had come back, now more cautious of keeping its tracks covered.

Bad news for all.

A few days passed before Tiny got the chance to talk with Rushtail. His wounds had become infected, though not intensely so, and he had stayed in the medicine den longer than anticipated. Though he was well enough to talk, Tiny was concerned about confronting an injured warrior.

“His pride would have taken the hardest blow,” Appledawn had predicted. “Have your talk. I’ll see to it he answers for anything out of place.”

And so, Tiny swallowed his fears, making his way, cautiously, into the medicine den.

“Didja kill it?”

“How big was it?”

“Did it have big teeth?”

“Was it scary?”

It seems he wasn’t the first with the idea, as Tiny walked in on all four kits bombarding the poor injured warrior with questions. To his credit, he took it all in stride.

“It wasn’t super big,” he said with a smile. “And it was pretty scary. But nothing I couldn’t handle!”

“Didja kill it?” Webkit echoed, though this time the question was more of a whine.

Rushtail shook his head. “It got me good in the leg. See?” He stretched out his bad leg for the kits to inspect, even through the cobweb wrappings. “I couldn’t stand once it did that. But I managed to keep it at bay until Deadfoot and Stagleap came to help.

“You couldn’t do it on your own?” Runningkit asked. The lack of tact in the question was not lost on Rushtail, clearly.

His ears twitched. “Relying on your clanmates for help is one of the most important parts of being a warrior. No cat is an island.”

“Of course not!” Webkit squeaked. “That’s silly! We’re cats!”

Rushtail chuckled. “It’s an expression. It just means no cat can do everything on their own. Teamwork is what makes the clan run, after all!”

“What’s an island?” Rusty asked, cocking his head.

“Mouse-brain!” Runningkit snapped, before turning immediately towards Rushtail. “What’s an island?”

“Land surrounded on all sides by water,” he explained. “We don’t have any in our territories. But they exist elsewhere in the world.”

“Have you ever seen one?” Whitekit asked, half mumbling her words.

“Not myself. I’ve never left the territories. But we hear a lot about them in stories and such.”

His eyes scanned the group, then flicked up to Tiny. His expression shifted, though it was hard to read. “Looks like I’ve got a visitor,” he said coolly. He turned back to the kits. “You all run along, now. I’ll see you when I get out of here.”

“Aw!” Webkit protested. “But I wanted to hear more about the fox!”

“Not now,” he said, giving the young tom a gentle nudge with his paw. “I promise, I’ll tell you later, though.”

“Okay!” Webkit said, bounding to his paws and heading out the entrance, playfully pouncing after Runningkit as he did.

Whitekit looked up at him. “Get better soon, Rushtail!” she said in that sweet little songbird voice of hers.

Rusty nodded. “We’ll play more when you’re better, right?”

Rushtail smiled at the ginger kit. “Sure thing,” he chirped. “Thank you all for visiting.”

“Bye, Rushtail!” Whitekit and Rusty called out, making their own way out of the den.

As they passed, Rusty looked up to Tiny, beaming bright. Tiny shot him a gentle smile back. It was good to see him getting along with the others, even if they were turning into something of a troublesome pawfull.

“Cute kits,” Rushtail muttered.

Tiny nodded. “Glad they’re all getting along.”

A second’s pause. Then a second longer. The silence quickly became awkward.

“You wanted to see me?” Rushtail eventually offered.

Tiny’s whiskers twitched. “I wanted to ask something of you.”

Rushtail chuckled. “I’m not exactly in a position to be taking on chores.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, what in StarClan’s name would you want to ask me , of all cats?”

Tiny sighed. “You distrust me.”

Rushtail paused, breaking eye contact. “How could I not? You just pad on in, claim to be Tallstar’s son, of all things, and say you’re leaving everything you’ve ever had behind forever? Just how am I supposed to take all that? How am I supposed to trust someone I’ve never even heard of before in my life?”

“Can’t be easy,” Tiny said. “You’ve no clue if I’m who I claim to be. No clue if I’m a good cat, outside of that.”

Rushtail didn’t respond.

Tiny continued. There was something on his mind. “You said, when we first came here…you asked my father if he remembered what “happened last time”. What was that about?”

“Oh, that.” Rushtail’s gaze dropped. “We…had a couple kittypets try and join before. Melody and…Leo, I think were their names. There was an accident. Leo didn’t make it, and Melody returned to her twolegs.” After a pause, he turned to Tiny. “Did you ever meet them?” he asked.

Tiny thought for a second. The names sounded familiar. Or, at least, one of them. “Melody. She’s Bailey’s, yes? I didn’t talk with her much. She’s the lazy indoor sort, most days. When Papa-- er, when Jake told her I was headed to WindClan, she seemed…appalled. She said you killed her brother. Didn’t know how much of that I believed.”

“ ShadowClan killed Leo,” Rushtail corrected. “We did everything we could to save him. To prepare him before a fight, to help him during, and to save him after. And yet, he died.”

“I’d believe it.”

“We trained them. Both of them. And she hated every second of it. Always complained, wanted to go back and curl up in her little twoleg nest and eat her bland mouse droppings and sit inside that stuffy den all day. Hated hunting, and fighting, and doing any work. A kittypet, through and through.”

Tiny nodded. “I can imagine it’s tough working with a cat like that. And I know you think me the same.”

Rushtail turned to meet his gaze, something unsure bubbling behind his eyes. “I can’t say you’re not. And that’s what scares me.” He steadied his gaze. “You scare me, Tiny. Not because of who you are, but because I don’t know who you are. You aren’t a friend I’ve spent moons with. You aren’t a hardened warrior. You have no history here. I can’t just accept that with no questions.”

“I know.” Tiny’s voice was quiet. “I know your trust is something earned. You’re no gullible mouse that takes anything he’s given.”

“I’m certainly not! And I’ll have you remember that!”

“Of course. What I came to ask has nothing to do with me.”

Rushtail paused, his eyes asking the question stuck on his tongue.

“Don’t hold this against Rusty,” Tiny pleaded. “You can’t trust me yet, and that’s fine. I’ll have to earn it the hard way, and I’m willing to. What I need from you, what I wanted to ask of you, was that you let Rusty be himself. Let him be a kit. Moons from now, he’ll barely remember his life in twolegplace. I want WindClan to be his home. I want him to choose his own path. Don’t hold his birth against him. Don’t look at him with uneven eyes. Please.”

Rushtail’s eyes narrowed. “Of course!” he barked. “He’s a kit, isn’t he? Barely even a cat, yet. No use scrutinizing him for what clanborn kits his age haven’t yet learned.”

Tiny blinked. “You don’t consider him the same way you consider me?”

“Well…not really.” Rushtail’s eyes snapped away from Tiny, his ears falling to the side. He was embarrassed by the notion. “You grew up a kittypet. I can’t take that away from you. Rusty can grow up a warrior. I don’t care where he was born, or to whom. I care who he is. Right now, the answer is simple: he’s a kit. He’s small and rambunctious and has a love for life that will someday be taken away from him. For you, though? I don’t know the answer. You’re you, and right now, I have no clue what that means. That’s why I look at you differently.”

He sighed. “I know it’s unfair of me, but I can’t accept it. Not yet.”

A second hung between them as Tiny mulled over the words. After a second’s pause, he nodded. “I’ve heard the path a warrior walks is a hard one. I know you’ve walked it all your life. And I’ve just now set my paws on it. My claws have not yet been sharpened by the stones, but with time, I will show you. I will show you we walk the same path, and these claws will not stay dull forever.”

Rushtail didn’t answer.

Tiny didn’t need one.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tallstar asked.

The moor looked different at night. Rippling grass and shining heather now glowed a soft blue in the moonlight, as Tiny twisted his way through the tall grass alongside Tallstar. It was going to be a long night, he could tell.

Along with him came Deadfoot, obviously here to represent his clan alongside his leader. Behind them came Oatwhisker, Pigeonflight, Rabbitear, Wrenflight, Onewhisker, Darkfoot, Ashfoot, Mudclaw, Bristlebark and Tornear. Morningflower had been invited, as well, but decided to stay behind to help Barkface.

With Rushtail.

Of course.

Tiny gave a heavy sigh. “Not exactly,” he finally managed to answer the question. “But I’d like to know. Morbid curiosity, and all that.”

Tallstar nodded. “Probably best to get it out of the way early, then. See if you can handle it rather than letting it fester.” He paused. “May I ask you something, before we arrive?”

“What is it?” Tiny asked, flicking an ear.

Another pause, longer this time.

“Where did the name come from?”

Tiny felt a shiver run down his spine. When it was announced that he would be joining everyone at the Gathering, he had made a statement:

Don’t call me Tiny, he had requested. Call me Palecloud.

“To be honest, I’m not quite sure,” he admitted, looking down at his paws. “The ThunderClan cats asked for a name, and I panicked. It was the first thing I thought of.” He turned his gaze back to Tallstar. “Does it work?”

A moment of silence hung like a thick fog, quiet but intrusive, and near painful. “It does,” Tallstar said at last. “Though…are you sure no one gave it to you? It’s a little…on the nose.”

Tiny blinked. “How so?”

“No one told you the name?” The dodge of the question didn’t go unnoticed.

Tiny shook his head. “I was worried, to be honest. I wasn’t sure ‘pale’ was a word I could use.” He decided to prod again. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Tallstar turned away, breaking his gaze and focusing on the path before him with a face so deep in thought that Tiny was sure he was going to melt through his skull like fresh-fallen snow.

And though he turned away, the words he muttered still met Tiny’s ears.

“You look just like her.”

Before Tiny could ask, Tallstar’s head snapped up. “Look alive, WindClan!” he called out to the entourage behind him. “We’re almost to Fourtrees!”

A few steps more and Tiny crested the rise, looking down the odd slope onto Fourtrees. Before him, cats swarmed between the trees. Pelts of all colors swirled around in the moonlight, mingling like water droplets dancing on a window. Feline eyes shone in bright flashes as a few heads turned to him, then quickly fell away.

Tiny swallowed hard.

A bump on his flank nearly sent him jumping out of his skin as he flicked around to lock eyes with Oatwhisker. “Nervous?” he asked, that ever cheerful smile plastered on his face, though a genuine concern was there.

Tiny sighed, his breath shaking as it fell out of his mouth. “That obvious?”

Oatwhisker shrugged. “I remember I was nervous my first time, too. It’s intimidating.”

Something about these words clicked in Tiny’s head. Of course Oatwhisker had a first time. Tallstar had said no kits were allowed at these Gatherings. So obviously, every single cat there had a first time. Tallstar, Deadfoot, even cats like Appledawn. Tonight was just his.

It might even be others’, too.

Something about that calmed him. For this whole time, he had assumed himself to be the odd one out when it came to these new experiences. But others had to get their footing somehow.

He remembered his own words to Rushtail; these claws will not stay dull forever.  

It had somehow never occurred to him that Rushtail’s claws did not start as sharp.

He sighed, meeting Oatwhisker’s quizzical gaze. “What was your first time like?” he asked, if for nothing more than to bring the attention off of him.

“Weird,” Oatwhisker admitted. “Finding friends can be tricky, especially when the Gathering doesn’t last that long. But I ended up getting along really well with another cat my age. Runningwind, from ThunderClan. Well, back then he was Running paw , but still. It’s just about finding someone you can get along with. Lucky for you, you’re really good at making friends.”

That last comment rang a little too hollow for Tiny’s liking.

Still, find someone he could mingle with? He’d like to get to know a few particular ThunderClan cats. A few even seemed like they would be looking for him at the next Gathering.

“Who was the gossip-y one I met? Rosetail?”

Oatwhisker nodded. “She’d be a great start! Won’t hear her complain about making new friends ‘til the river runs dry and the moon falls down. And I’m sure she’ll introduce you to anyone else if you ask.” He paused, looking down into the clearing. “Looks like it’s RiverClan and ShadowClan at the moment, though. Thunderheads might be a bit late.”

Tiny looked down, trying to dissect what in StarClan’s name (Larksplash had made sure to get him caught up on all the important swears) he was looking at. All he could tell was there were cats, and a lot of them.

“Hope they do show up,” Tiny muttered, half to himself and half to Oatwhisker.

“They’re probably just a bit late,” Oatwhisker said. “But hey, if they don’t, or if Rosetail isn’t there, come find me and we can sit together, okay? Might even be able to introduce you to Runningwind, if he shows!”

Tiny nodded.

He wasn’t planning on it.

“Alright, let’s get going!” Deadfoot announced before following Tallstar down the slope into the clearing. Tiny waited for the patrol to pass, aiming to be the last in line. He wasn’t in any hurry to get down there.

Especially not when he approached, hearing the buzz of conversation around the trees growing louder and louder. WindClan entered the clearing single-file, but quickly began to peel off and mingle with others. The clan soon evaporated into the crowd, and Tiny found himself all alone on the edges of the clearing.

An oddly familiar feeling.

His eyes darted about for any sign of an easy target. A cat he had heard of? Someone sitting by themselves? But the crowd was busy, a cloud of activity. The only other cats he had heard of were the leaders, and he wasn’t about to get involved in that without an explicit invitation. RiverClan he knew to be decent allies, but according to…well, pretty much everyone in WindClan, ShadowClan could be aggressive if provoked. He didn’t want to start anything, especially on a night everyone had stressed to be for a truce.

He felt his legs shaking, the volume building. He’d lost track of his clan - where was Oatwhisker? He should have been keeping an eye on him, he was his backup! Tallstar and Deafoot both had disappeared, no one stood out, and-

“Don’t think I’ve seen your face around before.”

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the voice. He whipped around to see whose it was and came face to face with a cat. A sleek golden tabby, with ringlet spots scattered across her smooth pelt, long whiskers framing an angular face and sharp eyes that cut through the night. A molly, for sure, and judging by her slender frame, Tiny was willing to guess RiverClan.

He swallowed, letting his fur lie flat. “Hello,” he started. May as well try his professional approach. “My name is Palecloud. I’m…a little new.”

The tabby cocked her head. “New?” she echoed, her voice cold and haughty. “So, what, are you one of those rogues ShadowClan’s been talking about?”

Tiny shook his head. “WindClan. I’m Tallstar’s son.”

She blinked. “I didn’t know he had one of those,” she mumbled. Clearing her throat and sitting up a little straighter, she continued. “So, where are you from originally?”

Tiny’s heart froze. He could only hope it didn’t show in his face. Her face held strong, telling him she didn’t notice. He swallowed. “It’s…complicated,” he said quietly, dropping his eyes and ears down, silently praying his avoidance would keep her from prying deeper.

The last thing he wanted to do was advertise his kittypet origins to the other clans.

He only let himself breathe once she nodded. “Well, glad you’ve ended up back where you belong,” she said.

The comment was clearly meant as some sort of jab, but Tiny found it oddly comforting.

Back where you belong.

“I’m Leopardfur, by the way,” the tabby said, a pride glowing in her chest. “RiverClan warrior.”

Tiny smiled. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, dipping his head in greeting. Leopardfur did the same.

She paused. “Are you enjoying it? WindClan, I mean.”

“Much,” he said. “Everyone - well, most of them - have been welcoming. I’m steadily finding a niche, and though it’s a little rough at times, I’m just happy they’ve accepted us.”

Leopardfur’s eyes narrowed. “Us? Who’s us?”

Tiny froze. “Ah, my brother and I. Kit. He was why I left. I didn’t want…” His voice trailed off, remembering to keep his past quiet. “He was in trouble,” he said in correction.

“Other loners?”

Tiny shrugged. “Something like that,” he mumbled.

An awkward silence yawned open like a chasm between them. Leopardfur shuffled uncomfortably, the question nearly burning a hole in her tongue.

She opened her mouth to speak, and Tiny held his breath for the interrogation he was sure she was going to sling at him as she turned, a difficult expression on her face.

Instead of the question, the next words out of her mouth were “ThunderClan’s here,” in a low mumble.

Somehow that hurt even worse.

Tiny turned his head to see. Sure enough, an entourage of cats poured out of the forest, making their way up to the Fourtrees clearing.

His eyes grew wide as they landed on the first cat in the group.

A lean silver molly, with sleek fur that rippled like waves in the moonlight. Eyes like placid water scanned the crowd as her clan followed close behind.

Tiny held his breath. Bluestar.

She hadn’t aged a day.

Behind her were cats of all hues and builds, though they leaned far bulkier than any of the WindClan cats. The one that caught his eye first was a large golden tabby with fur like a lion’s mane. Two white cats followed after, chatting about something that clearly didn’t matter a lick. A speckled tabby, a dusky brown cat with a vibrant patch of ginger…Tiny’s eyes scanned them, one by one.

No sign of the brown tabby monster.

Leopardfur’s eyes turned back to him. “You want to go say hi?” she asked, her voice quiet, as if biting through some great pain.

Tiny nodded, almost in a daze. “I…have something to ask. Something important.” He turned back to her, blinking that haze out of his eyes. “You want to come with?”

“No.” The response was as curt as it was bitter. She cleared her throat. “No, thank you. I’m going to go…find someone else…to talk with.” She gave him a quiet nod. “Have a good one.”

Without waiting for his response, she began stalking away, ears flat against her head, tail raking the ground.

Sunningrocks , Tiny remembered. If anyone was going to shy away from ThunderClan, it would be a RiverClan warrior.

He sighed, shaking the thought loose from his mind and puffing out his chest, as if that would help him feign the confidence he needed to pull this off.

It took a second for his paws to begin moving. Straight to Bluestar? Or to one of her warriors, first? Maybe he could approach her after the Gathering?

The choice was made for him fairly quickly.

As he marched towards the group of cats, a pair caught his eye. Two tortoiseshells, near mirror images of each other, laughing together at some inside joke. Their fur soft and groomed, amber eyes both glowing like fire, they laughed with each other as they took up the rear of the patrol. One of them made a brief glance at Tiny, locking eyes for barely a heartbeat before turning back to their companion. Clearly to point him out, as they both turned to look at him, a pair of curious smiles on their mottled faces.

Before he had time to panic, they both changed course and trotted up to him.

His blood ran cold as he took a few steps back.

“Hey, you!” one of them said, in a voice sweet and warm like honey. “Aren’t you the new WindClan cat?”

The other nodded. “Palecloud, right?” The voice was more chipper, like birdsong.

Tiny froze as the two closed the distance. “Uh, y-yes? How did you know my name?”

The first one chuckled, making her way up to him with her companion tailing behind. “Rosetail told us. Wouldn’t shut up, to be honest.”

“Ugh, she was so upset when she didn’t get to join us tonight,” the other added. “Asked us to find you, and ask all the questions.”

Tiny blinked. “What kind of questions?”

The first one rolled her eyes. “The basic and the invasive, mostly. How old are you, where did you get the scars, how long have you been in WindClan, who’s the other parent, blah blah blah.” She sighed. “Frankly, I just said I’d ask so she would stop bugging me. I don’t know how Bluestar deals with her so often.”

The other shrugged. “They’ve been friends longer than we’ve been alive. Gotta get used to her at some point, yeah?” He turned back to Tiny, that curiosity shining in his eyes. “Name’s Redtail, by the way. ThunderClan deputy.” He flicked his tail to the molly with him. “This is my sister, and ThunderClan’s medicine cat!”

She smiled. “Spottedleaf. Nice to meet you.”

Tiny dipped his head politely, though his lungs felt full of ice. “Likewise,” he said, trying to keep his professional air about him. He sat down, wrapping his tail around his paws, if for no other reason than to keep himself from shuffling his weight around. “So, you said you wanted some questions answered?”

Redtail bobbed his head side to side. “Honestly, I’m just interested in the fact that Tallstar has kits.”

Spottedleaf shot her brother a playful glare. “Well, I for one have some questions.” Turning back to Tiny, she added “If you don’t mind.”

Tiny shrugged. “Can’t say I’ll answer everything you ask. But ask away.” He cast one more glance over her shoulder, to try and catch another look at Bluestar. She had already disappeared into the crowd. “I may have some questions, as well. If you don’t mind.”

Redtail smiled bright. “Of course! Happy to get acquainted with a new friend!”

Spottedleaf took a seat, motioning for Redtail to do the same. “I think the first question has to be where did you come from? Not many outsiders joining the clans these days. And even fewer with clan history.”

Tiny paused. How much should he give them? Anything he told them would get passed back to Rosetail, and then, evidently, spread like wildfire through ThunderClan. He should keep his moves close, if for nothing else than Tallstar’s reputation.

“It’s a long story,” he started, “and one I’ve not been told all the details on. But my father - my other father, I suppose - became close with Tallstar when they were young, and Tallstar left WindClan for a short time. They…stuck.”

“Are they still together?” Redtail asked, not sitting.

Tiny nodded. “I’m the first of two litters.” He paused. “Er, I suppose I should explain. See, my father, Jake, he’s--”

“Born a molly?” Redtail interrupted. Something coy sparkled in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I get it.”

Tiny cocked his head. “Really? Are you…?”

Spottedleaf gave her brother a playful shove. “Dad was upset to not get any toms in his second litter. Turns out he was just a late bloomer.”

Redtail shrugged. “I prefer the term ‘fashionably late’.”

Some part of Tiny relaxed, a muscle somewhere in his back he didn’t realize he had tensed so hard. Was that really bothering him that much? It was such a normal thing growing up, but a lot of things he thought were normal just weren’t in the clans. It was refreshing, seeing someone else like his father.

Almost like his world wasn’t entirely on its head.

Spottedleaf turned back to Tiny. “Okay, your turn. What do you want to know about?”

Tiny thought for a second. He couldn’t go for the big questions right off the bat. He had to ask the small ones. “What’s Bluestar actually…like?” is what he eventually decided on. “Deadfoot said she was fair and even, but not much about her personally. What’s she like?”

Redtail paused, then smiled. The stutter didn’t go unnoticed. “She’s nice, if a little…”

“...reserved?” Spottedleaf offered.

Redtail nodded. “I was going to say ‘cold’, but that didn’t feel right. ‘Reserved’ is better. She’s a good cat, but doesn’t like to show it. Wants to be seen as an efficient leader. Professional. But she has a heart, as much as she tries to hide it.”

Sounds awfully familiar, Tiny thought. We might just get along .

“Alright, my turn!” Redtail said. “What made you leave? If you grew up outside the clans, and just came here recently, what happened?”

“Twolegs,” Tiny growled. “They were going to hurt my brother. So I took him away, and we came here. Papa always said this was where we’d come if we were in trouble. And I couldn’t just drop the kit off and go back, could I?”

“You brought your brother?” Spottedleaf jumped when she realized what she said. “Sorry, that was another question, wasn’t it?”

Tiny couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s fine. Yeah, I’ve got quite a few siblings. But I only brought the little guy. Bouncy, wild…Dad says he’ll make a great warrior some day. Already looking for his mentor.”

Spottedleaf smiled. “How cute! I’d love to meet him some day!”

Redtail nodded. “Me, too! Alright, your go.”

Tiny took a breath. “I’ve met some ThunderClan cats before. When I was young. And, if it’s okay, can I ask about them?”

They paused, a little unsure. “Uh, go ahead?” Spottedleaf said. “Who do you want to know about?”

“Two cats. First off, Tiger…claw, I think his name is now? I met him when he was an apprentice.”

Redtail’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, yeah. Tigerclaw. He’s… a strong warrior. A little too strong.”

“I think the word you’re looking for this time is ‘stubborn’,” Spottedleaf said with a smirk. “He’s a meathead, thinks with his claws. Bit of a bully sometimes, too.”

Tiny felt his ears droop. “Is he that bad?”

Redtail shook his head. “He’s not the worst. But he’s argumentative. Likes to be in charge. He pushes others around a lot, nitpicks my decisions as deputy, that sort of thing. Saved my life, once, and held it over me for seasons, like I owed him something.”

Spottedleaf sighed, diverting her eyes from Tiny. “He’s got a mate and kits, now. I can’t help but worry for them.”

She took a deep breath, straightening her back as she did so. “Okay, next question. Where did the name come from?”

Tiny’s whiskers twitched. “Pardon?”

“Palecloud. Has to have some meaning, right?” She scanned him, up and down. “Your fur’s awfully dark for a Pale-something.”

Before Tiny could answer, Redtail turned to her. “Oh, you don’t know?” he asked. “He’s named after Tallstar’s mother. Aren’t you?” he said, turning back to Tiny.

Tiny froze. “Uh…yes, yes I am. I’m…surprised you recognized it.”

Redtail shrugged. “Never met her, myself. But I’ve heard good things about Palebird. Rabbitear mentions her from time to time.”

Tiny’s heart felt like it stopped and restarted to dislodge a massive rock. Palebird. Why did that name strike so deep? Like an old friend…the gears spun so hard in his head he could practically smell smoke.

A sharp yowl cut right through his thoughts. Redtail and Spottedleaf both turned to the Great Rock, seeing the leaders lined up on the top. “Gathering’s starting,” Redtail mumbled. He turned back to Spottedleaf. “I should go take my place.” He turned next to Tiny, giving a nod. “Lovely to meet you. And good hunting.”

With that, he took off, bounding straight to the base of the rock in the center of the clearing and taking his place below Bluestar to represent his clan.

This was it; the real heart of the Gathering.

“Cats of all Clans, welcome to the Gathering!” The first voice to speak out from the Great Rock was Tallstar’s. Tiny had seen him perched on Tallrock once or twice before, and each time he couldn’t help but feel pride. Tallstar always looked so commanding, so regal, just as a leader should. And now, standing with his head held high, chest puffed out, perfectly posed in the silver light of the moon, he looked more regal than ever.

To his left stood Bluestar, sitting quietly yet poised, watching Tallstar with a gentle interest. Beside her was a cat Tiny had never seen before. A stout dark brown tabby, fur matted to his skin in places, his tail twisted like a broken bone. Orange eyes glared at Tallstar, a heavy sneer on his flattened face. Yellowed teeth flashed out of his mouth occasionally as his whiskers twitched.

On Tallstar’s right sat another brown tabby, though this one lighter, like a hare. He sat quietly, humbly, as he watched Tallstar take his place. Thick dusty fur hid square shoulders and what Tiny was sure was an impressive amount of muscle. He simply couldn’t believe a cat could naturally be built that large. His stand out feature, aside from forest green eyes, deep and dark, was his jaw. Twisted unnaturally, sitting nearly sideways in his mouth. His tongue lolled out one side, peeking through the sharpened fangs and offset by a gnarled scar on the opposite side.

Though Tiny knew, intellectually, it looked a bit silly, something about the way he carried himself made the injury seem more like a sign of strength.

The other brown tabby seemed a bit of a shambles. Like a soaking wet kitten. But this one had the heart of a lion, and it glowed under his fur, seeped out into the night, and made him shine.

“Prey is running well in WindClan,” Tallstar continued, cutting Tiny’s assessment short. “Though this last leaf-bare was not particularly kind to us, we have survived, and will continue to do so.” He cast a nasty glare towards the matted tabby, the words plainly written on his face: no thanks to you.

The tabby smiled with crooked teeth. “If that’s all, Tallstar? Perhaps you’d like to hear of ShadowClan’s accomplishments? Unless you have something else to add, that is.” His voice was low and harsh, like the growl of a dog before leaping in for the kill.

Tallstar forced his eyes closed, using every muscle in his body to keep his claws sheathed. “Only that we have found evidence of a fox on our territory, near Mothermouth. Our warriors have chased it from its original den, though it is still at large. I advise those traveling to the moonstone take caution when doing so.”

The ShadowClan leader huffed. “My medicine cats on their own are stronger than a whole patrol of your weakling warriors.”

Bluestar nodded. “I will pass this to my clanmates,” she said, ignoring the insult. Her voice was cold and calculated, cutting like a frozen wind, and yet with a hidden warmth she was clearly suppressing. “Thank you for the warning, Tallstar. It is much appreciated.”

Tallstar gave a courteous nod, then stepped back, taking his place in line with the other leaders.

Without so much as a glance for a prompt, the ShadowClan leader stepped up next. “ShadowClan thrives this season!” he bellowed. “Fernshade has welcomed a newborn, and both she and the kit are doing well. The prey runs well as ever, and we have made wonderous strides in our battles!”

There was a hum of responses from the crowd as everyone turned to mutter something or other to the cats with them. Though the hisses from his WindClan companions and Tallstar’s bitter glare did not escape Tiny’s notice, the more interesting thing was how little fanfare the announcement seemed to have received. He would have expected ShadowClan to cheer out in pride as their accomplishments were announced.

Even Spottedleaf seemed to shuffle in her place next to him. “He’s talking about you, right?” she whispered to him through clenched teeth. “WindClan? And their border?”

Tiny nodded. “He’s bragging about his death toll at the Gathering,” he hissed back.

Spottedleaf’s ears twitched. “Something’s wrong with him. I don’t like it.”

“You’re telling me.”

Tallstar seemed agitated, as well. “Do you have any actual news to share, Brokenstar?” he snapped, almost involuntarily.

Brokenstar shot him a vile look. “I think our births and victories are far more important than your deaths and failures, no?”

Tiny could see his father’s face twist back for just a moment before tensing up again and taking his place once more, mumbling something to himself about the full moon truce.

Brokenstar flicked his battered tail with a painful sounding click that even made Bluestar flinch. “That is all. Crookedstar, your turn.”

Brokenstar took his place as Crookedstar’s massive frame creaked to life and he took his steps to the front. A quizzical glare was thrown at the ShadowClan leader before Crookedstar shook his head and took his stage.

“RiverClan is well,” he started. His voice boomed with a powerful radiance, as well as an awkward lisp. “We are pleased to welcome two new warriors to our ranks; Vixenleap and Grasswhisker!”

Tiny jumped in his fur as the crowd erupted into chants. “Vixenleap! Grasswhisker! Vixenleap! Grasswhisker!”

Spottedleaf joined in, a bright smile on her face.

Tiny blinked. “Do you do that for every new warrior?” he asked as the energy dissipated.

Spottedleaf shrugged. “Most of the time, yes. Like the naming ceremonies at camp. It’s just a little celebration of a cat’s accomplishments.”

“We have also had a birth,” Crookedstar continued. “Lilystem has brought us Heavykit and Shadekit, and they are all doing just fine.”

Spottedleaf sighed. “The war had been weighing on her,” she thought aloud. “I’m glad she’s doing well, despite the stress.”

Tiny turned to her. “You were worried about her?”

“A bit.” She shook her head. “Don’t tell my brother, but the war’s just a senseless, endless battle for battle’s sake. I’m tired of treating bloodied young warriors over such a meaningless pile of rocks.”

“Would you rather give the territory up?”

Spottedleaf’s eyes grew heavy and serious. “For my own life, I would give it to them. Maybe then both sides could get a good night’s sleep for once.”

Tiny didn’t know what to say. So, instead, he gave a solemn nod, and turned back to the leaders.

“And that will be all,” Crookedstar said. “I yield my time to you, Bluestar.”

The two exchanged a courteous nod before Crookedstar fell back with Tallstar, and Bluestar made her way to take his place.

“ThunderClan is healing well from this recent leaf-bare,” she said, that voice cutting back through the crowd. “We are happy to report no deaths since the season’s change. Battles and wounds, yes. But nothing we can’t handle.”

Brokenstar flashed his fangs in a malicious smile. “You mean you two still haven’t made up your minds about that old puddle?” he said, in a tone that stunk and dripped like oil. He shook his head. “Shame, that. You could be putting your paws to something that matters.”

Bluestar’s eyes narrowed. “Sunningrocks is important to ThunderClan, Brokenstar. And we will not roll over and accept defeat purely because you think it a waste.”

“Such needless bloodshed, though!” He slithered his way forward, not quite standing equal to her but getting close. “Good warriors dropping like flies. Such a shame.”

Tallstar huffed. “Since when were you opposed to needless bloodshed?”

“My battle is not needless!” Brokenstar barked. “I lead my warriors to battle for the sake of ShadowClan’s wellbeing!”

“And I for ThunderClan,” said Bluestar, keeping her voice even.

Crookedstar nodded. “And I for RiverClan, and Tallstar for WindClan. It is what we do, as warriors.”

“You cannot say your clan is above others,” Tallstar said, his tone almost baiting an answer out of the ShadowClan leader.

He took the bait. “And what if we are? Survival of the fittest! Only those strong enough to survive should survive!” He rolled his eyes, turning back to Bluestar. “Come now, don’t you see? The rabbit-chasers are clearly the weakest link! All they are is a drain on our resources, food and territory that could very well be spent on warriors like ours , warriors who deserve it!”

“Crowfood!” Tallstar spat. “Who are you to say we don’t deserve the ground we walk on? Or the territory we’ve held as long as the stars themselves remember? What would ShadowClan even do with the moors? StarClan knows you wouldn’t know a rabbit from a hare! Our kin are built for life on the moors!” He snapped his head towards the other leaders. “You don’t believe this load of badger droppings, do you?”

Badger droppings. That was a new one. Tiny would have to ask Larksplash.

Bluestar spun on him, lashing her tail. “This is not a place for an argument, either of you! StarClan is watching, as are your clanmates! So stop behaving like kits!”

“Like kits!” The fur on Tallstar’s neck began to rise. “This weasel-heart is talking about killing me and my clan, right in front of everyone, right to my face! And he’s asked you to join his little crusade on my home! And yet you call me a kit for having the spine to stand against him? I’ll tell you what! If he’s so confident that WindClan is the weakest, what do you suppose he’ll try to do once we’re gone? Once he slashes our throats one by one because you stood back and did nothing? I’ll tell you what: he’ll turn. He’ll turn right around and say ‘isn’t RiverClan looking lovely today?’ and he’ll want that , too! And once he’s done with them, you’re next up! He’s not going to stop until the whole forest is in his paws! You really think this stops with me? With WindClan? It’s not about WindClan! It’s not about ShadowClan! It’s about Brokenstar, and his need for power!”

“It’s about survival, Windhead!” Brokenstar retorted. “How do you expect us to make it another generation, and another, and another, with our supplies stretched thin as they are? Putting our energy into a lost cause like that! Leeches to our very existence should be quashed, not fed like helpless, mewling newborns! Too many seasons of hunger, starvation, sickness. And for what? For borders and tradition? For our ancestors’ sakes? What do we get from pandering to a loud minority that does nothing but take? Take and take and take, and if ever we had to defend ourselves? As one? What would you bring? Nothing, that’s what!”

A growl rose between them, though whose it was, Tiny couldn’t tell. Muscles bunched, claws slipped from their sheathes and scraped the rock below as the two leaders began to pace towards each other, haunches raised and ears flat against their heads.

Tiny froze. They’re going to kill each other!

“Quiet, both of you!” Crookedstar’s booming voice wedged between them. Tiny could feel the wind in his whiskers from his roar. “Look with your eyes, not with your hearts!” He tilted his head up, causing the others to do the same. Tiny turned to see where all the attention was brought.

High in the sky, right above the clearing, the moon was barely peeking out from behind the suffocating stranglehold of a dark storm cloud rolling in.

“StarClan is angry,” Spottedleaf muttered next to him. “The Gathering is a time of peace, and if those two are going to tear each other to shreds right here…”

“This Gathering is over!” Crookedstar declared. “RiverClan, we’re returning to camp!” With that, and without another word to his fellow leaders, he leapt from the short edge of the rock, landing on his paws and stalking away like a parent after breaking up an argument between bickering kittens. He flicked his tail and his deputy, a red-brown tom, followed close behind.

The air buzzed with voices of all sorts, each talking to those nearby about what just happened, some saying hasty goodbyes before turning to follow Crookedstar back to RiverClan territory.

As Tiny watched the group slowly split off, he caught the eye of a golden tabby, her pelt looking duller without the direct moonlight on it. There was something in her eyes, something vile and rotten.

Pity.

Leopardfur , Tiny thought. I have to remember that. Have to speak with her again. Something isn’t right.

Brokenstar huffed hard as he jumped to the ground with a dull thud and padded over to his deputy, a massive white tom. “ShadowClan, let’s go! And not a word to any of these traitors on your way out!”

ShadowClan began their own departure, though much more quietly than RiverClan. Conversations stopped dead, with only a cursory farewell here and there.

“It ends so quick?” Tiny remarked.

“It does when they fight,” Spottedleaf said in a tone that indicated this was uncomfortably common. She turned to Tiny. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Palecloud,” she said with a flick of her ginger tail. “Tell Barkface I said hi for me, okay?”

Tiny nodded. “Will do.”

With that she turned, heading off towards where the ThunderClan cats were gathering up to head home. Each one with a look of deep concern in their eyes. Bluestar’s gait was filled with a sharp annoyance, lashing her tail as she walked to join her clanmates.

Not tonight , he thought.

With everything wrapping up so messily, he figured it was time for him to head back with the WindClan patrol, briefly locking eyes with Tallstar. An angry pain still stained his gaze.

Tallstar turned to Deadfoot and the collecting cats, and Tiny rose to his paws to join them.

“Hey, wait! Palecloud!”

Redtail’s voice rang out in a bit of a rush as he split from the party. Tiny blinked, taking a step to meet him on his approach. “What is it?”

“You said you wanted to ask about a couple of cats,” Redtail said, though his words came out jumbled together. “You asked about one, who’s the other? I might be able to bring them next time.”

Tiny paused, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. I believe he passed away.”

Redtail shrugged. “Still, I’d like to know. What’s the name? I can fill you in next time I see you.”

Tiny sighed, though he tried to keep it to himself. “Thistleclaw,” he said. “It’s not that important, though,” he added, his ears perking up.

Something in Redtail’s expression shifted. He looked like a totally different cat, grizzled and worn by the elements of nature, hardened by battle, and scared too deep to fix. Redtail froze for a second, in some kind of haze, then shook his head slowly. “Don’t--” He bit his tongue before refocusing on the conversation. “Hey, do me a favor.” His voice was low and sure. It sent a chill up Tiny’s spine. “Don’t talk about him so much. It’s best he’s forgotten.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned tail to join his clan. Tiny watched as the patrol started their way out of the clearing, now joined by their deputy. But as they left, Redtail met Tiny’s eye, a more noble look on his face. He gave one solid nod as a goodbye, and a silent promise to meet again. Tiny returned it, and ThunderClan disappeared into the forest.

Chapter Text

A sky blue butterfly fluttered gently down into the flower tangle, giving its wings just a moment’s rest as it drank the sugary syrup from within the petals. Dark clouds were rolling in on the horizon, sure to be here in a few hours time. The little blue bug watched with growing concern as the heavy clouds marched towards the moors, ready to unleash a torrent when they arrived. The bug drank its fill, sitting as still as it could to avoid detection by any-

“Gotcha!”

The butterfly took off with just a hair of margin as ginger paws came crashing down on the flower with a thud. It beat its wings, trying to stay out of the predator’s reach.

Rusty opened his paws to see all he had managed to catch was a little white clover, now smothered in his paws. His head snapped up and his eyes began searching. He couldn’t let one little butterfly outdo him, could he?

His eyes landing on it, he gave chase, jumping and scrambling after it with all the grace of a beached fish. But his determination was plain to see, as he tracked the little creature down all throughout the WindClan camp. Occasionally it would stop, resting on a flower or leaf just out of his reach, requiring a mighty jump from his little legs to get to. And each time, even when he made it, the butterfly would just slip right between his paws.

It was taunting him.

He couldn’t be seen as such a lousy hunter that he couldn’t even catch one little butterfly! Runningkit would never let him hear the end of it. Never, ever, ever! But if he caught it, he could show off just how good he was, and impress the whole clan, even Tallstar! He had had plenty of practice chasing the feathers and fake mice back home. He wondered if Papa would be proud of him. A little hunter, he had always said.

But the butterfly was far trickier than the toy mice. For one, it could fly. Which wasn’t fair, to be honest. The butterfly should play nice and just let him catch it. It was cheating! But if he caught it even while it was cheating, wouldn’t that be even more impressive? The thought only served to harden his resolve, as his legs bunched in preparation to strike. He wavered for a second, getting his balance as the butterfly came to rest on another flower. His muscles tensed, ears pricked, eyes focused on his target, he released, springing forth with all the speed his tiny body could muster. The air around him whistled through his ears as he lunged, landing claws outstretched right on top with a satisfying thud.

But the creature just flitted away on the draft.

Rusty sighed. He’d never be a warrior at this rate! What would Runningkit and Webkit say? He could only hope they weren’t watching.

Come to think of it, where were they? Whitekit sat with the elders, enraptured in their tales of battles and victories of cats only they remembered. She sat quietly but with wide eyes, listening to Hareflight talking about some tale that was most likely half false. But the other two kits were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were in the nursery?

A quick check in, poking his head just past the entrance, said no. Tiny was there, sleeping as well as he could, having just gotten back from a dawn patrol, his sleep schedule already skewed from the Gathering a few nights prior.

That, and Rusty was sure he was having nightmares again recently.

He decided not to bother his brother, let him get some sleep. He needed it.

As he turned back to the center of camp, Rusty’s eye caught on a brief flash of tabby gray, disappearing into the apprentice den. Were they going to pick out nests? Runningkit had suggested it once or twice, but had never invited Rusty. Well! He wanted in, and there was nothing they could do to stop him. His legs took off, racing up to the thicket’s entrance.

Sure enough, two little gray kittens sat in the darkest corner. Talking. Whispering.

“Did anyone see you?” Runningkit asked as Webkit took his seat.

Webkit shook his head. “Don’t think so. I think we’re good.”

Runningkit’s eyes narrowed. “Remember, this doesn’t leave here. You won’t tell anyone, understand?”

Webkit blinked. “Not even Rusty?”

“Ec-specially not Rusty! He’ll ruin the whole thing!”

Rusty’s ears began to burn. Well, if they weren’t going to invite him, maybe he should just invite himself?

“What are you two doing in here?” he asked, making his voice extra chipper. The two jumped in place and spun around to meet his eyes, theirs wild, with fur beginning to stand on end. “Can I play?” he added, trotting on into the empty den.

“Shh!” Runningkit hissed, ears flat against her head. “Keep your voice down! This isn’t a game!”

Rusty cocked his head. “Then what is it?” He made sure to lower his voice a bit as he approached.

“None of your business, that’s what!” Runningkit’s voice was harsh as her little tail began to lash. “Now, get out of here! You practically glow! Everyone will see you, and our cover will be blown!”

“Cover?” he asked. “Cover for what? Is Whitekit covering for you? Are you doing something bad?”

Something clicked in his head, and he felt his eyes widen involuntarily. “Are you sneaking out of camp?” he whispered.

Runningkit didn’t relax. “Get lost, kittypet! We’re doing something important, and we don’t want you messing it all up!”

Kittypet. She used that word a lot. Rusty wasn’t sure what it meant, but the vitriol was evident.

He put on his best pouting face. “If you don’t let me join, I’ll tell Sorrelshine!” he huffed.

Runningkit pulled her lips back to reveal a row of pointed kitten teeth. “If you snitch, I’ll tell Tallstar it was your idea, and then he’ll kick you out! And your brother!”

“Hang on,” Webkit said, putting himself between the two. “Runningkit, he could be a lot of help.”

Rusty’s ears perked up. “Yeah!” he squeaked, having to consciously keep his volume down. “I can help a lot!”

Runningkit’s eyes narrowed, but her fur began to lie flat. “Help with what? You said it yourself, the more paws we have, the more trouble it’ll be.”

“I know, I know,” Webkit started. “But listen. Rusty’s from the outside. He’s seen the moors before.”

Runningkit huffed dismissively. “Only once.”

“Better than us. And you heard what Onewhisker said when they showed up, right? On the ShadowClan border? Rusty would know where it is! He could show us!”

Runningkit rolled her eyes, hard. “I know where the border is, mouse-brain. It’s the border that isn’t the gorge. Seriously think I’d get that lost that easily?”

Rusty blinked. “Do you think there’s just…like…a line ? Where the border is?”

“Isn’t there? What else would the border be?”

“It’s scent,” Rusty explained. “There’s nothing… there . You can’t touch the border. That’s why they have to scent it every day. So the smell’s still there.”

Runningkit narrowed her eyes at him, sitting down and turning her nose up. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Webkit turned back to her. “You don’t believe him? He’s actually seen it.”

“He’s just lying so we let him join.” She huffed, turning back to Rusty. “Look. We only let you play with us most days because Whitekit’s so quiet. No way I’m letting you in on an important mission like this.”

“Mission?” Rusty echoed. “What kinda mission?”

“The secret kind,” she hissed. “And I don’t need to carry around some bright-eyed little orange furball who wants to go play pretend when we’ve got actual work to do!”

“What kind of work could a coupl’a kittens do?”

Webkit sighed, sensing another deflection from his sister. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But you’ve gotta keep it a secret. Or else. ‘Kay?”

Runningkit glared at him. “Don’t tell him! He’s just going to snitch! Said so himself!”

“Not if we include him. Then he’d get in trouble, too.”

He turned to Rusty. “I’ll tell you. But then you’re in on it. Everything. And you can’t back out.”

Rusty paused, then nodded. He had to know, even if that meant getting roped into everything. He just had to.

Webkit leaned in closer, his eyes burning with sincerity. “We’re gonna lead the fox into ShadowClan.”

Rusty’s heart stopped briefly. “W-we’re gonna…”

Webkit gave one fierce nod. “Mudclaw and Bristlebark found it yesterday. Said it’s kinda near the falls. Like it’s hoping the water noise makes it easier to hide.”

Rusty swallowed hard. “I-I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”

Runningkit stood tall before him. “You said you’d do it. Don’t be a scaredy-mouse!”

“B-but Tallstar said -”

“Tallstar let you in,” Runningkit interrupted. “He just let you in cus you’re his kit. And I’ll bet you’re lying about that, too!”

Rusty’s ears began burning again. “I’m not! He’s my dad!”

“Then prove it!” Runningkit spat. “Show us you’re not a mouse-heart! Tallstar never was! And any kit of his would be a brave warrior, too! You don’t look a lick like him, maybe Tiny was lying to sneak a little roach into our clan!”

Rusty shrunk down. “I…I’m not…” he muttered.

“We’ll see.” She turned away from him, walking towards the far wall of the den and pulling back the heather tangle to reveal a hole. Just big enough for a kitten their size. “If you’re really his son, you’ll do everything you can for your clan. So…you in?”

Webkit looked at Rusty, his gaze enthusiastic, and motioned towards the opening. The breeze crept into the den, sunlight filtering in like a ray of hope.

ShadowClan had called for their deaths at the last Gathering.

They deserved it.

Didn’t they?

Rusty nodded, rising to shaky paws. “I’ll-” His voice cracked. He shook his pelt off, puffing out his chest and raising his head high. “I’ll do it,” he said, mustering all the confidence he could.

Runningkit smiled, a determined fire blazing in her leaf-green eyes. “That’s more like it. Come on, then.”

Rusty padded up to the hole. It wasn’t too long. He should be able to crawl in and out the other side fairly quickly. He took a steadying breath, ducked his head in, and began crawling through. Gorse needles raked his pelt, which, while uncomfortable, made him feel saver about the construction of the wall. No predator in their right mind would jump into a shrub of this stuff. His whiskers grazed the sides of the tunnel as he stepped carefully over errant branches and through the dense weave. Before he knew it, the sunlight hit his nose and he was out, back on the moor, the wide expanse yawning open before him.

It made his stomach curl.

But the wind, fresh air, smell of wildflowers, it was intoxicating. As he stepped forward onto the cold earth, he looked out into the field of long grass, flowing in waves in the chill wind that bit his face and ruffled his pelt.

No turning back now.

He looked over his shoulder, peeking through the hole to see Webkit staring back at him from the den. “Coast’s clear!” he called.

Webkit smiled bright, pushing past the entrance and making his own way through the gap and out to the wide world.

Rusty stepped back and made room for the gray kitten as he popped out the other side. He shook his pelt off, then looked out at the moors stretching before him.

“Woah,” he muttered, his eyes wide.

“Move your rump, sparrowbrain!” Runningkit called out behind him, pushing her way after.

Webkit stepped aside for his sister, giving her a moment for her own breathless “Wow.”

“It’s huge,” Webkit said.

“The grass goes deep, taller than Tallstar,” said Rusty. “We should stick close from here.”

Runningkit nodded. “And we need a plan before we get there.”

Rusty froze, his eyes growing wide in disbelief staring at her. He could see Webkit doing the same.

“You mean you didn’t have one yet?!” Webkit hissed.

Runningkit shrugged. “No use making one before we know what we’re dealing with. Didn’t even have a sense of scale before this.”

Webkit sighed, turning to Rusty. “Next time we’re doing something this mouse-brained, remind me not to let her do the thinking.”

Runningkit shot him a death glare. “And I suppose you have a better idea, genius?”

Webkit’s silence was deafening.

Runningkit’s whiskers twitched. “That’s what I thought. Now then. On with business.” She turned to Rusty, that mischievous smile on her face. “Directions. You’re the cat. Where’s our important points?”

Rusty paused. That’s right, he was supposed to be the one who knew the territory. He looked out at the moors. The easy stuff was all there. They could clearly see the gorge, and the falls wouldn’t be too hard to parse from there. Scanning the landscape, he saw Fourtrees, just as Tiny had described it. And past that, the thunderpath. Quiet today, but roaring to life on others. Just past Fourtrees, the path forked in two, and just before the second path was the ShadowClan border.

He said as much to his companions, guiding their gaze with a paw as he spoke.

Webkit cocked his head. “You sure?”

Runningkit rolled her eyes. “You were the one who wanted to trust him.”

Rusty felt the butterflies rising in his stomach, but swallowed them down. “I’m sure,” he said, mustering all the confidence in his tiny body. “We should make sure to get it across the second path. It’ll be less likely to come back into WindClan, then.”

Runningkit’s eyes scanned the territory. “And back that way’s the falls, yeah?” she said, pointing with her long tail.

Webkit nodded. “Looks like.”

Runningkit beamed. “Great! It’s not that long a trip, all things considered! Just cut across the short span of the territory, get it over the border before the thunderpath splits so we only have to cross once, and it’s all ShadowClan’s problem! No more mess, no more fuss! Two birds, one swipe, as Mama says.”

Something in Rusty’s chest swelled with pride. He was helping! He was doing something, making a difference! And it was going to work!

“So, what next?” Webkit asked.

Runningkit paused, mulling over her options for a second. A second too long, perhaps.

Webkit sighed, exasperated at her lack of an answer. “Nothing, as usual.”

Runningkit glared at him. “I’m thinking!”

Webkit mouthed the words exaggeratedly to Rusty, ears dropped back in annoyance. “Any ideas, new kit?” he asked, pretending not to notice Runningkit’s look of indignation.

Rusty paused. “Even if it’s a short trip, it’s long for us, since we’re little,” he thought aloud.

Runningkit scoffed. “We’re WindClan! We’ve got speed in our blood! ‘Running’ is in my name, for StarClan’s sake!”

We. Rusty couldn’t help but smile at the word. He was WindClan! There was no doubt now! Runningkit herself had said it!

His ears perked up, chest puffed out, he began again. “We’re built for shorter bursts of speed.” His confidence surprised even him. “And we’re not trained. But if we split the journey between the three of us…”

Webkit’s eyes lit up as he caught on. “Then we’d each only have to run one third the distance!” His smile grew wide. “Then we can focus on speed, and only one of us is actually in any danger at a time!”

“How do we do the pass?” Runningkit asked. “If it’s chasing one of us, it’s more likely to stick to what it’s chasing.”

Webkit shrugged. “Well, you and I look near identical. And you remember what Deadfoot said about it chasing bright colored targets? If you start, then duck into the tunnels, I can switch out and it won’t notice. Then, we can do the same with Rusty at the end.”

Rusty’s heart jumped. “B-but then…how do I get out? If it’s chasing me at the end, how do I get it to stop?”

Webkit paused. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Runningkit’s smile just grew wider. “I’ve got an idea. Hang on.”

Without another word, she slipped back through the weak point in the wall and into the WindClan camp.

Rusty and Webkit waited. Seconds ticked by like hours. Rusty couldn’t help but turn his gaze to the clouds rolling their direction. They had better get this done before the storm came in, or that rotten fox wouldn’t even follow them out of its den. And the tunnels would be unusable in a downpour.

“Do you like it here?”

Rusty jumped, spinning around to meet eyes with Webkit. “I…what?”

“Do you like it in WindClan?” he repeated. “Is it okay?”

Rusty paused, then nodded. “It’s…different. But nice. Good having new friends, a whole world to explore, new things to discover.”

Webkit blinked. “Do you miss your twolegs?”

Rusty shook his head. “The twolegs I don’t miss. Big and loud and really nosy. What I miss is my littermates. And Papa. But I’ve got my Dad! And Tiny!”

“You have littermates?”

Rusty nodded. “I’ve got two brothers, Tommy and Filou. They’re rowdy, but fun. Tommy’s a little mean, but Filou’s just funny. And my sisters, Princess and Luna. Luna’s loud, likes attention, really likes the twolegs. And Princess is sweet, real sweet. But kinda shy. Quiet. Like Whitekit.”

“Who am I most like?”

“Filou, definitely. He’s a jokester, like you. Bouncy and fun.”

Webkit smiled, a bit of emotion in his eyes. “You think I’m fun?” he asked, seeming genuinely touched by the notion.

Rusty nodded. “You’re lots of fun! I was worried I wasn’t going to have anyone else to play with if we left, but I’m glad I have friends here, too!”

The gorse rustled again, and out popped Runningkit. She dropped something on the ground as she shook herself off. “Glad you two didn’t run off without me,” she said, smoothing her fur out.

“Oh, believe me,” Webkit said. “If any of us have to start this thing, I do not want to be it.”

Rusty nodded his agreement, then looked at the brown shape Runningkit had dropped at her paws. Furry, but with a long, skinny tail. The smell was mouth watering. “Is that a mouse?” he asked.

Runningkit nodded. “I had to convince Cloudrunner we were going to actually eat it and weren’t using it for a game. But we’re not. See, Rusty, if you carry this, and then toss it over the border, the fox will go after the easier target, right? Plus, this smells a lot better to a fox.”

“How do you know how a fox thinks?” Webkit asked with a jab.

Runningkit ignored it. “Well, are we going to stand here all day or what? We’ve got work to do!”

The walk was long.

In the end, they didn’t even see the fox before everyone had to go get in position. They split up closer to the camp so they didn’t have to walk as far, but it was still a distance to go on little legs, carrying a fresh piece of prey and hoping no hawks or other predators got any funny ideas. The distance from the falls to the ShadowClan border wasn’t actually all that long. But to a little kit, especially one who had only seen the outside world once before, it was still huge. All that combined with the knot in his stomach from the sight of the approaching storm clouds, now looming uncomfortably close, and the slow and sickening realization that sweet StarClan, they were actually doing this, it was all Rusty could do to think of something, anything else.

His mind returned to the prior conversation, memories of his siblings.

His soft and cozy nest of fluffy blankets, curled up with his four littermates. The toms scrambling over each other, playing rough and reenacting scenes from stories Papa had told them. Luna whining on Papa’s heels, asking any question she could think of to just get a little more of his time. Any little silly thing at all.

As Tommy and Filou batted at each other, nearly ripping each other's ears off, Rusty laid curled up in his cozy spot in the sunshine, Princess purring sleepily beside him. She could sleep through a roaring house fire and wake up just in time for lunch, Rusty could bet. And above all this, sitting in the window and staring longingly out the glass, the sleek form of Tiny, quietly watching the days roll by, his mind always somewhere far beyond their little slice of the world.

His claws slid in and out of place as he watched birds fly by the window, choking down his food with an angry intent, every night spent tossing and turning, every morning jolted awake at the crack of dawn by some horrid nightmare, tears in his eyes and gasping for breath.

And yet, in those waking moments between the pain he didn’t dare put into words, he was a friend in all the best ways. Letting his little siblings chase his tail, batting balls and fake mice around, sitting with them as the sun slipped below the horizon, telling them stories to lull them to sleep. Listening to Rusty’s every concern, quietly offering his aid or, if nothing else, a shoulder to cry on. Always there the second Filou’s claws slipped while playing a little too rough, or when Luna tripped and bonked her chin, or when Tommy got tangled up in a ball of string. Always there in a heartbeat, whenever he was needed.

And Papa, sweet and caring. His tales of his adventures with his friends, the times he met some of his closest, and, of course, those escapades with that dashing wild cat, how he was the bravest cat Papa ever met. Strong and handsome, yet deeply loving, a little impulsive at times, with a heart sullied by losses, but who turned his tragedies into reasons to fight, to love, to do what was right.

A hero.

Rusty always wanted to be like that. A wild cat who did everything he could to change the world for the better.

And as he sat in the bush near Fourtrees, mouse at his paws, every muscle in his body ready to break into a sprint at the sight of Webkit, the thought crept into his mind, as dark and foreboding as the storm clouds overhead.

Would Papa be proud of him?

Did he deserve to be here, and not his siblings? Were they all okay? Tiny had promised they wouldn’t get tossed in the river. But could he trust that?

He bit his tongue. Of course he could trust Tiny. Tiny had done everything he could for others, every breath and every step an ode to someone else.

He was Rusty’s hero.

And one day, tales of their combined legends would reach back to twolegplace, where his siblings would look on, thinking fondly on their time together. Luna would gloat to every cat in twolegplace that she was his sister. Tommy would say he had the blood of a warrior. Princess would tell his stories to her kittens some day, inspiring them on.

And Papa. Papa would be so proud.

Dad would be, too. Looking on at his brave warriors, not just his sons but his clanmates, cats who had grown strong in the name of their clan, his clan, and rose to the occasion.

Rusty wanted that. He had such heroes in his life. He wanted to be someone else’s hero.

The shriek cut him out of his thinking. A gray kit, crashing across the territory, right towards him. He grabbed the mouse in his jaws and rose to his paws.

It was go time.

His muscles twitched in anticipation. Just a little closer, Webkit ran full force, followed close behind by the fox.

Rusty’s heart dropped as he realized two things.

First, the fox was huge. Twice the kit’s size and then some. Its skin stretched taught over protruding ribs, long legs making longer strides, with claws ripping earth as they tore across the moor, closing the distance between itself and its mark. A long snout bared gnarled teeth, stained yellow and red, bleeding at the gums and frothing with spittle. Eyes burning with a vile hatred, not merely a rabid hunger, trained on their target.

The second thing Rusty noticed was the kit the fox was chasing.

It was Runningkit, not Webkit.

Something had gone wrong with the plan.

And the fox was closing the distance faster than Runningkit was making it.

Rusty only had a few seconds to act. He had to get its attention away from her.

His body roaring to life and into the fray was punctuated by a sharp crack of thunder above.

Chapter Text

Bones cracked sharp as Tiny rose from his nest, stretching out in the warm air of the nursery. Dreamless sleep was rare these days, and he was intent on relishing the quiet when he had the chance. His mind was seldom empty, as was the nursery. Both at the same time was an opportunity he wasn’t about to squander.

Though, now that he thought about it, now that the thoughts came flooding back in once they had an excuse to, it was awfully quiet in here. The four little kittens were at the perfect age as to be unbearably restless, and yet without an outlet. Mossballs and hide-and-seek could only sate so much boredom, and they had become far too big for badger rides, though Flytail always tried his best. End of the day, they were fighting and hunting, though mostly fighting each other, and hunting…well, each other. A moon and a half, now, and they would be apprentices. Tiny only hoped they could survive that long and not tear each other to pieces or explode from sheer pent up energy.

As the rain fell in frigid sheets on the moor, thunder rumbling in the far off distance like a mother’s heartbeat, the world fell still and silent inside the nursery. Tiny knew the moors would be drenched by now, but the calming arrhythmia of the storm was always so soothing to his addled mind. Violent thoughts drowned out by the sweet lull of the raindrops hitting the branches overhead, dripping off the hawthorn tree and landing on the gorse tangle that shielded him from the outside world. 

Buzzing activity of the midday camp mitigated by the weather, forcing everyone to find an excuse to head inside. Once those first drops hit, and the petricor began to rise, suddenly Darkfoot wanted to have a talk with Plumclaw, Oatwhisker and Morningflower needed to go check on Rushtail, Mudclaw finally found the time to patch that hole in the nursery, Deadfoot had something urgent and secret for Tallstar, hunting patrols returned with however much they had, not a single cat in camp willing to chance the downpour.

A sudden movement caught his eye as Sorrelshine, a healthy-sized blackbird dangling from her jaws, hustled her way in through the nursery entrance, Flytail in tow.

The white tom caught Tiny’s gaze and smiled candidly. “Really coming down out there,” he said, a slight laugh in his voice. He took a step back from his mate before roughly shaking off his pelt, twitching his whiskers, and straightening his tail. “Hope you don’t mind me popping in and eating in here, Tiny?” Before Tiny could answer, Flytail jumped a little in place. “Or, is it Palecloud, now? I know you haven’t been officially given the name, but if you’d prefer…?”

Tiny shrugged. “Either or. And I’m fine with you eating in here. But thank you for asking.”

Flytail nodded. “I’ll stick with Palecloud, then, if that’s okay. I’d like to get used to it by the time you’re actually named.”

Sorrelshine chuckled, curling up on the nursery floor so as to not get her wet fur all over her nice, dry nest. “You’ve already decided he’s staying?” she asked as Flytail took his place next to her. “He still has time to make up his mind, you know. Quite a bit of time.”

Flytail paused. “I guess. But it just feels…feels like he’s always been here, y’know?” He turned to Tiny. Palecloud now, he supposed. “You’re family, after all. Kin. My brother’s son. Can’t imagine any of Wrenflight’s kits deciding to just…up and leave, like that.”

“Cus they’re all born here,” Sorrelshine said through a mouthful of blackbird. “Tiny has somewhere else he can be, at least. You’d know he’s safe, cared for, fed, sheltered. And with family, to boot. Choice doesn’t come down to kin, or blood, or anything. It comes down to him, how he feels, how he likes it here. Not something you can decide for him, yeah?”

Flytail shrugged. “I suppose.”

Sorrelshine turned to Tiny. “How are you liking it here, may I ask? I hope you’re not pretending to be alright for our sakes. You’re…hard to read.”

Tiny paused, turning and looking out the nursery entrance at the falling rain again. Barkface slipped into the medicine den, having been out collecting herbs with Ashfoot when the torrent started. The two looked soaked to the bone, and with only a few flower heads to show for it.

Tiny sighed. “It’s…strange. Everything’s different, everything’s weird. And yet, it makes sense. And somehow, that’s worse. If it were pure chaos, there’d be some…I don’t know…comfort? Solace? In that. That there was no sense to make, so don’t strain yourself by trying. But here, it’s like…like it’s somebody else’s familiar. Like this is normal to everyone but me. Like I’ve hit my head and forgotten how the world works, but it keeps going without me. I’m glad Rusty’s happy here. He’s getting the swing of things much faster than I am. But for me…I don’t know. It’s familiar and alien, at the same time. Home enough.”

He paused, looking now at his paws. “The quiet is unsettling. But the work is what I live for. Purpose, in a sense. It’s so quiet, so lazy, back in twolegplace. Days blur together. But here, there’s always a problem to fix, always an issue to address. That part…that I actually prefer. I like being useful. I like being part of a community that needs me. I like not sitting around as some fat old lump, eating the barest approximation of food and watching as the world spins by, day by day. I’m just…not used to it all, yet. And it’s rough. Feels like I’m too much of a kittypet for warrior life, too much of a warrior for kittypet life.” He turned back to the others, sitting and looking at him with curious and concerned eyes. “I’ll live, though,” he added.

Sorrelshine shook her head. “Sounds rough. I understand how tough the choice must be, with all that rattling around in your head.”

Flytail took a second, his eyes wandering mindlessly as his mind wandered without vision. “You asked about Tigerclaw, before. When we were doing training and you hit your head. What’s that about?”

Tiny blinked. “Why?”

Flytail shrugged. “Wanna know if you’ve met any wild cats before. Any warriors. You mentioned him, and Thistleclaw. You meet them?”

Tiny nodded. “That’s where the scars came from, actually. Met Tigerclaw back when he was Tigerpaw, and I was just a little kit, smaller than the little ones are now. He tried to kill me, roughed me up something awful. It never quite healed right. Still got this twitch in my eye if I move it wrong, to this day. Muscle just doesn’t do what it’s supposed to anymore, y’know?”

Sorrelshine gasped a little. “You poor thing! No wonder it stuck with you.”

Flytail didn’t respond right away, just kept staring right through the nursery walls. “If that’s your only introduction to clan life, then yeah. I can imagine it’d be quite a transition.”

Tiny paused. “Most of my stories from the outside either came from Papa or a friend of his, Pine. Well, his housefolk called him Gingerbread. But he always went by Pine. Said that was his name out in the wild, back before. Never quite believed him when he said those things, though. Fantastical stories of horrible things lurking in the woods. He always played it up to scare me away. Foxes and badgers the size of dogs, winding mazes of trees and thorns that strangle and grab, no food or water, sleeping out in the open, hoping no one swoops in to take what little you still have.” He shook his head. “Bet the fat ol’ bastard never even stepped foot outside his yard. Lies, the whole lot of it.”

Sorrelshine blinked. “Pine? What did he look like?”

“Fat, raggedy, his face all scarred. Red tabby, chipped ears. He used to sit on the top of the fence where his housefolk built him a little perch. He’d sit up there and talk to anyone who’d listen about his days in the forest.”

Sorrelshine and Flytail turned to each other, their eyes asking the question their mouths dare not ask. Flytail turned to Tiny. “Do…do you mean Pinestar? Big criss-cross scars across his chest? Green eyes, white muzzle?”

Tiny stopped. “Do you know him?”

Sorrelshine nodded, a bit of disbelief in her eyes. “He was leader of ThunderClan, once. And he’s Tigerclaw’s father. Or so Rosetail said.”

“Rosetail says a lot of things,” Tiny said with a shrug. But something in his heart didn’t believe his own dismissal.

Sorrelshine shook her head. “Rosetail’s a gossip and a blabbermouth, but she doesn’t say anything she doesn’t believe is true. You can always tell when something’s going on in ThunderClan because she doesn’t show up to the Gathering. She gives away too much.”

Tiny paused. She wasn’t at the last one, was she? He didn’t see her, and he was certainly looking. Come to think of it, Redtail did say something about her not getting to go.

Was something wrong?

The entrance to the nursery rustled a bit as Whitekit slunk her way inside. Her long fur clinging to her sides, showing off a sturdy frame that her pelt usually hid. The poor thing looked absolutely miserable, soaked from the rain.

And, Tiny could tell, making just a moment’s eye contact with her, guilty. About what, he had no clue. But something was up.

Sorrelshine rose to her paws. “Whitekit!” she exclaimed, keeping her voice warm and sweet. “What were you doing out in the rain? I could have sworn you were in the elders' den, weren’t you?”

Whitekit didn’t respond right away, dragging muddied paws along the ground toward her parents, not bearing to look up from the nursery floor. “Mama, I’m…cold…” she muttered, sounding on the verge of tears.

“Well, no wonder!” Sorrelshine hummed, approaching the miserable little ball of wet fur and wrapping her tail around her. She began to groom behind the ears, starting along the spine to help her dry off faster. But Whitekit pushed away.

“M’sorry.”

Sorrelshine sighed. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Come on in, get dried off. You’ll catch a cold if-”

“No!” Whitekit shrieked, squeezing her eyes tight and stumbling away from her mother’s touch. “I-I mean…I lied! And now they’re in trouble and it’s all my fault, cus I didn’t say anything, cus Runningkit said they’d never let me play with them again if I told anybody, so I kept quiet, but now it’s raining and they said they’d get back before it started raining but now they’re gone and I dunno what to do!”

There were more words in that one sentence than all the times Tiny had heard Whitekit speak combined. A little impressive.

Tears started streaming down the little kit’s face as Sorrelshine’s gaze grew worried. “Runningkit? And Webkit, too? Where are they?”

Whitekit sniffed, trying to control her voice. It didn’t work, and she could barely get the words out between her sobs and hiccups. “They…th-they left…th-throu-gh the…the tunnel a-and…”

“The what?” Flytail’s exclamation seemed to shock even him. “Are you saying they left camp? Out in this weather? Why?!”

Whitekit’s crying only worsened as Sorrelshine tried to calm her down. She was stuttering and sobbing and blubbering, far past the point of words. Flytail was getting restless, and Tiny could see, Sorrelshine was, too.

He made his way towards her, quietly, relaxing every muscle in his body and crouching down to her level, making as firm eye contact as he could, but doing his best to keep his face calm. He only had one shot to make this work. But he had the practice.

“Whitekit,” he started, smoothing out as much of that natural gravel in his voice as he could possibly manage. “We’re not mad, okay? We’re just worried. We’re going to help you, okay? But let’s start small. Can you take a deep breath?”

Whitekit tried to breathe deep, choking on herself as she did, harsh hiccups cutting through her already choppy breathing. She exhaled all at once, in a heavy sob.

Tiny nodded softly. “Good job. Can you do one more?”

The second one was a bit smoother, though still easily interrupted by her crying. Still, an improvement was made, and he could see it on her face as she turned to him, tears still burning hot down her face.

Tiny gave his warmest smile. The trick was to squint into it, even if it was little. “That’s it. See? Now, can you tell us what’s wrong? We promise, we won’t be mad.”

Whitekit sniffled, giving just one more deep breath, this time for her own sake. She looked at him, those big yellow eyes burning with shame and fear alike. “There’s…a hole, in the apprentice den. They snuck outta camp. All three, I think.”

Tiny felt his heart shoot solid ice through his veins.

“Out of camp?” Sorrelshine echoed. “In this weather?!”

Flytail’s eyes grew dark. “With the…the fox out there?” he muttered, seemingly unsure of whether or not to scare his mate any more.

Sorrelshine looked like she was going to faint.

Tiny froze, turning back to Whitekit. “Did they say where they were going, or what they were doing?” he asked, trying to stay calm and failing.

Whitekit shook her head. “They didn’t want me to know. Only told me to cover for them. I thought they were just going to play in the apprentice den, but when I went to go check on ‘em…” She sniffled again, that anxiety rising up in her voice once more. “There’s a hole in the wall. I think they went through there.”

Tiny nodded, rising to his paws. Sorrelshine had begun properly panicking, but Flytail stood by her side to comfort her. “It’s alright, dear,” he said, trying to hide his own anxiety. “We’ll find them. Okay? Here, you go get help. It’ll be easier with more paws. I’ll stay here with Whitekit. She needs one of us. And someone should stay in case they come back, at least.”

He turned to Tiny and nodded. “You go with her, okay? See if Deadfoot can get a patrol together.”

Tiny paused, then nodded back. “Alright. We’re on it.”

Flytail’s gaze fell dark again. “Keep them safe, okay? I’m counting on you, Palecloud.”

Tallstar wasn’t willing to risk the jump to the Tallrock in this weather, but his voice projected all the same. “Warriors, to me! We have an emergency on our paws!”

Cats began to flood the center of camp, flowing out from their various hiding places. Each and every one looking uncomfortable in the rain, but with stern gazes that heeded their leader’s emergency call. Not a soul unaccounted for. Even some elders, Hareflight and Appledawn foremost, and Rushtail, mangled back end and all.

“ShadowClan?” Mudclaw asked, his claws already unsheathed.

“Missing kits,” Tallstar corrected. “Could turn sour fast.”

It’s already sour , Tiny couldn’t help but think.

Crowfur rolled his eyes. “Kits? Really? This is what constitutes a clan-wide emergency under you?” He scoffed. “Here’s a suggestion, don’t let them wander off in the rain next time?”

A swipe knocked him square in the back of the head. “They’re in danger, mousebrain!” Pigeonflight snapped. “Even someone as dense as you should be able to see that! There’s a fox out there, in a torrent for StarClan’s sake! Now is not the time for parenting tips from someone who doesn’t even consider them cats yet!”

Tornear took a step forward, ignoring the scuffle. “Who’s all missing?” he asked in that deep voice that rattled bone.

“All but Whitekit,” Tiny said. “They slipped out through a hole in the wall.”

“Told you that kittypet kit would be trouble,” Cloudrunner grumbled. “Now look what’s happened!”

“Runningkit and Webkit are gone, too,” Lilywhisker pointed out. “I don’t think it’s a kittypet issue as much as a kit issue.”

“That half-cat kit probably came up with the harebrained idea, anyway! An’ he’s leading our kits off into the moors with a fox around! Open your eyes!”

“Runningkit and Webkit are out of camp for sure,” Deadfoot explained. “But we don’t know where Rusty is. He’s probably with them. Most likely followed on their adventure.”

“Feed it to the crows, tail-licker. I’m not risking my whiskers for Talltail’s little bastards. Have fun running around in the rain.” With that, the skinny gray tom disappeared back into the elders’ den.

Tiny sighed, but Sorrelshine stepped up beside him. “Please!” she pleaded. “We’re running out of time! They could be hurt! They could be lost! They could be…!”

“It’s alright, Sorrelshine,” Tallstar said. “We’ll get moving now.” He turned back to the crowd. “We need to check our danger points, first. They can handle themselves wet, but a fox is a problem and a half for such little ones.”

Bristlebark stood tall. “I’ll take a patrol back where we saw the fox,” he offered. “We can head up along the gorge from there.”

“I’ll lead one back to the old sett,” Stagleap said. “Another patrol can start at Fourtrees and meet us along the ShadowClan border.”

“I’ll take ShadowClan,” Onewhisker chimed in. “Something tells me, if they took Rusty, that’s why. He’s been to the border before.”

“My vote’s for the farm,” Mudclaw said. “A fox is one thing, but those dogs are another.”

Ashfoot stepped up next. “With rain this heavy, we’re going to need to check the tunnels, too!” she said. “I doubt they’d have gotten very far, but it’ll be rough for all of them if the tunnels flood.”

Deadfoot nodded. “Alright, then! Bristlebark, Tiny, Larksplash, you go for the fox’s last den. Onewhisker, take Pigeonflight and Rushtail. You’re my fastest three, at any sniff of a fight, bounce back and report to me. Stagleap, take Wrenflight and Oatwhisker. Rabbitear and I with Mudclaw. Tunnelers, pair off. Sorrelshine, you’re in the tunnels.”

“Leave me out of this!” Crowfur barked. “Last thing I want is to drown in a flash flood for some incompetent kits! I’ll stay here, thanks!”

Deadfoot was about to retort, but Tallstar pushed ahead. “I’ll take his place, then,” he declared. “Mudclaw, join the tunnelers. I can take the farm patrol.”

Mudclaw nodded. “I’ll head towards the fox’s den, then. Bristlebark, if it’s getting away, chase it down to me.”

“You’d really want to fight a fox in the tunnels?” Tornear asked incredulously.

Mudclaw shook his head. “Those tunnels are weak, over near the falls. One wrong move could cause a cave-in. In an emergency, we can use that. Hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, I’m the fastest one in the tunnels. I’ve got the best chance of making it out of there with my tail.”

“I’ll pair with you, then,” Morningflower offered. “I’m the smallest. If anyone can pull that off, it’s us.”

“Tornear and I can hit the ShadowClan side, then,” Ashfoot said. “Darkfoot and Sorrelshine, keep central. It’s not as big a danger uphill, with the water draining down. Those uphill tunnels might actually be the safest place they could be right now.”

Darkfoot nodded. “Stay safe, and don’t let ShadowClan see you,” he ordered, though Tiny could tell it came more from a place of worry than of authority.

“I’ll get my herbs ready in here,” Barkface said. “Lilywhisker, if you’d be able to help? I could use an extra set of paws.”

Lilywhisker nodded, pulling herself out from the elders’ den and towards the medicine den, her back leg looking stiffer than usual. “On my way. Let’s see just how much I really remember.”

Tiny looked around as everyone kicked off into motion. With a few exceptions, the whole clan began an organized search for a rowdy little pawful of kittens half of them weren’t even related to. Even the elders seemed intent on searching around camp, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of the little ones’ escape, or their return. A warm glow began humming in his chest. This certainly wasn’t the wild, unruly, lawless wilderness Pine had described. Watching everyone put down everything they were doing prior, even Rushtail, still recovering from his own incident, watching the camp stop and get ready to turn over every leaf and rock in the whole of WindClan for three little kits, to make sure they were safe and unharmed…

This never could have happened in twolegplace.

And it didn’t, as he was so reluctant to remember, when a violent twoleg had stolen Nutmeg’s kits, tossing them in the river. And Tiny was the only one who bothered to look for the poor things, the others consigned to the kittens’ fates. Even Jake said it was a lost cause, though his inaction was more grief than apathy.

And yet, here were these supposedly wild cats, with no honor or decorum, as everyone said, pulling together for the sake of a common cause. A desire to preserve that precious life, no matter the cost. To protect each other, as a family does. Mudclaw and Morningflower said they were willing to risk being buried alive for these kits. If that wasn’t honor, then there was no such thing.

In many ways, the clans were more organized than the kittypets were.

“Tiny!” Bristlebark called out. “Come on, you’re with me!”

Tiny put his thoughts aside, racing up to the entrance with Bristlebark and Larksplash. “Where too, boss?” Larksplash asked.

“The falls,” Bristlebark said. “It’s a bit of a distance, so we’re going to have to hustle. You ready?”

Tiny nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

Every muscle in Tiny’s body roared to life as he and his companions raced headfirst down the moors. Mud clung to his paws, rain biting at his face, the fog obscuring just enough of his vision to be dangerous. But the roaring of the river in the gorge guided his caution, followed by Bristlebark and Larksplash’s muscle memory of the territory. Mudclaw and Morningflower followed close for a while, before ducking down into the tunnels to begin their own search. The rain showed no sign of letting up as they approached what Bristlebark was sure was the fox’s den.

And yet, peeking in, no fox.

“Plenty of water, though,” Larksplash noted, pointing with her tail to the stagnant puddle of muddy water lying at the bottom of the den. “May have left for dryer ground.”

“Can only hope so,” said Bristlebark, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the rain and the falls seemingly fighting for dominance over the soundscape.

And yet, something in Tiny’s stomach twisted unnaturally.

“Come on,” Bristlebark said. “Let’s check upstream.”

Tiny felt Larksplash step away, but he didn’t dare move a muscle. Something sharp, on the tip of his nose, worming its way back onto his tongue and stinging like metal, like that day beyond the fence, the way his skin fell apart and snapped under pressure. Something familiar, though he silently wished, prayed to any god that would listen, that he was wrong.

But he wasn’t. And the crimson streaks diluted by rainwater and falling into the puddle in the depths of the den painted a bleak story he had heard before.

“Blood,” he murmured.

“Tiny?” Larksplash called. “Are you coming? We’ve got work to do!”

He turned, well aware of the horror on his face. “Blood!” he shouted out. “And it smells like WindClan!”

Bristlebark jumped. “What? Let me see! That…that can’t be…”

Tiny backed up from the entrance, letting Bristlebark get a good look, flicking towards the evidence with his tail. “Not a lot, though,” he said, trying to speak up. “I doubt it was lethal, though it’s fresh. They couldn’t have gotten too far.”

“Blood and a fox, thought?” Larksplash shook her head. “Not exactly a good sign.”

“Still, at least we know we’re on the trail.”

“At least we know there is a trail,” Bristlebark said, pulling his head from the den entrance. “Now, then. If I were a kit just attacked by a fox, where would I head to next?”

“Home, ideally,” Larksplash said, loud enough it was clear she intended to be heard.

Tiny froze. “What was it Crowfur said about the fox? Leading it to ShadowClan?”

Bristlebark’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t think they’d try something so crazy, do you?”

“Ask them yourself.” The voice was Mudclaw’s, slinking out of the tunnels, caked whiskers to tail in his namesake. He seemed annoyed, though the emotion was hard to parse through the competing sounds of water crashing all around them.

Behind him followed Morningflower, nearly unrecognizable with how dirty she was, guiding a four moon old kit along. Leaning on her for stability, a nasty gash from the right shoulder down to the sternum, cutting across the upper leg, leaked blood in a horrible cascade. It seemed there was a cursory attempt to clean it, but in this weather, it was a fool’s errand. Tiny felt the limping pain as the kit hobbled toward the group, seemingly having run out of tears left to cry, though heavy breaths and desperate sobs were still very much on the table. Shivering and soaking wet, the kit seemed ready to collapse in a miserable heap any second.

Tiny could only imagine the scolding Mudclaw had just given.

“Found him cowering for his life in the tunnels,” Mudclaw said. He was definitely annoyed. “Said they were trying to lead the fox over the border. And with the most harebrained plan I’ve ever heard!”

“We wanted to help.” Webkit’s shivering mumbles were drowned out in the rain, but his fear was evident even in his body language. “It was dumb. It was so, so dumb. But none of us wanted to back down. We didn’t want to be the mouse-heart that didn’t go.”

“What even happened?” Morningflower asked, her voice much more stable than Mudclaw’s, though it wasn’t hard. The tabby seemed like he was about to crack and take the kit’s ears any second, now.

“Runningkit started. We were supposed to switch off after a bit. Just so we could each put our energy into short bursts and focus on outrunning the thing. But it got her. Before she even left the den, it snapped her. She got away just long enough to try the switch, but it just…kept going after her. Even through the tunnels. I tried to get its attention on me, just…away from her. I didn’t care about the plan anymore. But it got me in the shoulder. And it hit me in the head. I blacked out, and when I woke up, I was soaking and in pain. So I ran ‘til my leg gave out. And I hid.”

“Mouse-brain!” Mudclaw snapped. “You’re lucky you escaped with your life! You saw what that thing did to Rushtail! He’s one of the fastest in the clan! What made you think you could do this?!”

Webkit’s ears drooped. “I dunno. Runningkit called me a mouse-heart. Said some real nasty things to Rusty, too. And Rusty said I was cool. Fun. Like his brother, and that he was happy to be friends with me. I kinda just…just wanted to be cool, you know? Didn’t think too much about what would happen.”

Larksplash rolled her eyes. “Understatement and a half, there.”

Bristlebark shook his head. “We should get you to Barkface,” he said, his voice unnaturally cool. “I’ll take you. Everyone else, look for the others. I’ll send the other patrols your way if I spot them.”

Tiny turned to Webkit. “Where were they headed?” he asked, hoping for just a little more direction.

Webkit pointed with his tail, back towards Fourtrees and across the ShadowClan border. “Just that way,” he said. “Rusty was going to take the last bit across the border. No clue where Runningkit ended up, but I’m guessing she’s not far.” He sighed heavily, looking with horror into Tiny’s eyes. “Please, please find them. And don’t be mad at them. If I hadn’t jumped in on it, neither of them would be in this mess.”

“We’ll talk about that later, once you’re all safe and sound,” Bristlebark said, offering his shoulder to lean on. “For now, there’s still work to do.”

Chapter Text

Teeth.

That was all Rusty saw.

As the creature’s snapping maw came down at him, all he saw was the rows of sharp, tangled teeth. Canines sticking out at odd angles, a few missing outright, seemingly rotted away, spittle foaming in the back of the throat that opened wide to snap jaws closed around Rusty’s throat and tear him to pieces like he had done to so many moss-balls. And now it was his time, to face the music and end up in the belly of the beast, ginger fur strewn across the rain soaked moor and dyed in vibrant scarlet hues by his own spilled blood.

Not how he’d imagined his life would end, but the time to choose was long, long over. Why had he said yes? Why had he fallen for such immature teasing like that? If he didn’t let it get to him, if he had done the right thing and told someone about how idiotic this plan really was, maybe they’d all be fine and safe, right now.

Sure, Runningkit would never play with him again. But after all this, he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to. Webkit would be a more tragic loss, but he was kind, spontaneous. This wound between them would have healed, in time. He may even have been thankful, once he came around to Rusty’s view.

But ah. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. No time to think about the past, or whatever future he may have had, had he done things differently. Because now is the present, and right now, sharp teeth in bleeding gums were crashing down around him. He closed his eyes tight, feeling the pain and hot breath and the stinging of the rain in fresh wounds and the wet earth slipping out from under his paws as he fell backwards, the combined weight of cat and fox stumbling down onto the mud below.

A dramatic yelp from the fox and its teeth slipped from Rusty’s face, still drenched in his blood. Runningkit must have gotten back into the fray. Mouse-brain. Still trying to be the hero. It was going to end up costing both of their lives, in the end.

Dizzy. He felt dizzy. And sick.

Wouldn’t be long, now.

Just a moment.

A second more.

“You’ve got to get up, little bird.”

Rusty’s attention was snapped more awake than he’d ever been as his eyes darted around. The moors were gone, replaced by an endless stream of stars. Neck deep in glistening water, running coolly over his pelt and, indeed, through him, he turned, trying to find the source of the voice. All he saw, for as far as his eyes would let him, was the night sky. Up, down, stretching to infinity and climbing up past an unseen horizon in beautiful swirls of color and shimmering starlight. A dazzling aurora of green light danced across the sky, colors cascading to the ground like rain, shooting stars that carried the weight of a soul each, landing with gentle pawsteps and laughing as they splashed on the water and skipped along the surface, gliding with impossible grace.

Faces, eyes, pelts, figures, all began to form in the starlight, and fade just as quickly. Cats, each and every one. None familiar, but all uncannily perfect. Yet warm. This was a place of love.

And yet, Rusty’s heart sank as he saw the wondrous display of light twirling and swirling and falling and flying before him. This was not a place for the living. This was StarClan, where warriors found themselves once their time was up.

Rusty sighed. He had tried his best and still failed. What would Tiny say? Tallstar? Jake? He could only hope they could go on without him. A small flicker in their lives that was snuffed out as soon as it was sparked. He let his body fall limp, ready to fade into whatever afterlife he had found himself in as his head fell back under the starry waters.

“No, no! None of that!”

There it was again. That voice! His ears perked up as his face breached the stream’s surface again, looking around for the source properly this time. “W-who’s there?” he called out, his voice trembling.

“A friend, don’t worry.”

Behind him. His head whipped around faster than ever, landing his eyes squarely on those of a fluffy gray and white tom, his pure yellow eyes piercing through the dreamlike haze of it all. His fur curled tight, but not matted, like a sheep’s pelt or a storm cloud. His gaze was friendly, warm, and with a comforting wisdom Rusty was sorely in need of.

The stranger smiled, leaning in to give him a nudge, helping him out of the water. “There you go, little one. You’re alright. You’re safe here.”

Rusty swallowed, moving up to steady ground on unsteady paws. His fur was dry, untouched by either the starry stream or the rain from the waking world. He dipped his head politely, the way Tiny seemed to do all the time. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

The stranger chuckled. “Ah, no need to thank me. Just trying to make sure you’re alright, is all. You’ve been through a lot recently. Haven’t you, sweetheart?”

Rusty blinked. “I’m…sorry. Do I know you?”

The stranger shook his head. “No, not quite. But I know you. Both of you. My name’s Woollytail. I was a WindClan warrior, once. I’m Tallstar’s…well, step-father, I suppose. Became mates with his mother after her first mate died. But that’s a longer story. For now, just know I’m a friend.”

Rusty nodded. “So you’re here to take me to StarClan because I died, I’m guessing?”

Woollytail blinked. “Ah, well, I can certainly see how you’d think that. But no. You’re surviving this, as are your friends.”

The sigh of relief that came from Rusty’s chest nearly sent his head spinning.

Another one of those endearing dad-laughs bubbled up from Woollytail. “They’ll all be fine. Well…relatively speaking. That mean old fox is getting chased off right now by a brave ThunderClan apprentice. Hope it’s some consolation that it means you’re the reason he’s getting his full name tonight. But yes. You’ll all survive…with damage. Nothing you can’t handle.”

Rusty paused. “So…why am I here? If I survive, why am I…?”

“In StarClan?” Woollytail finished. “Because you’re special, little bird! You are a second chance to someone who badly needed one. And…because I have a message for you. Something for your trouble, consider it.”

“Oh.” The word echoed in the hollow of Rusty’s chest. “What’s the message? Who’s it for?”

“A prophecy,” said Woollytail. “The weather was supposed to be an omen for Barkface. But eh, I suppose it’s a little vague. I’ll have to find something more… dramatic next time. A blood-stained sky, perhaps? I’ll ask Hawkheart. He’ll come up with something.”

Rusty blinked. “So…what’s the message?” he repeated.

Woollytail jumped a little. “Ah, right! The prophecy. Listen close: Only storms can catch the wind, for you cannot hunt with claws outstretched.”

A pause hung heavy between them. Rusty cocked his head. “So what does…what does that mean? ”

Woollytail shrugged. “Means what it needs to. It’s meant to guide your actions, not control them. It’ll make sense when it’s time for it to make sense. If you knew what it meant right now, if I just…explained it to you, you might try and change too much. Like if someone’s death causes a war, I can give you a riddle about preparing for battle. But if I tell you who’s going to die, you might try and save them. No telling what would happen, then. Gotta keep things linear. You understand, right?”

“Of course,” Rusty lied.

Woollytail nodded. “Good! And…one more thing. From me. I know you’re not my granddaughter. I know she wasn’t even my daughter. But you’re Palebird’s, and that’s enough for me. I love her. And she loves you. So, by some way, we’re family in the end. Right?”

Rusty couldn’t help but shoot the lost warrior a look. “Um…are you sure you have the right cat? I’m Rusty. I’m a tom.”

Woollytail nodded, then stopped. “Mousedung. I’m a little early, aren’t I?” He shrugged. “Oh, well. Consider it another prophecy. A personal one! Just a little something to figure out on your own, eh?”

A starry wink signaled a harsh wind to begin blowing, pulling Rusty’s form apart in brilliant strands of light, flying down, back out of StarClan and into the waking world once more. His heart leapt in his chest. “Wait!” he cried out, his voice almost lost in the gust. “Y-you can’t just-!”

Woollytail smiled as his spirit faded from Rusty’s vision, taking the ethereal landscape with him. “Give my regards to Tallstar, alright? And tell my kits I said hi!”

Rusty’s voice wouldn’t call out anymore. But as his vision faded to white, those words echoed in his head.

Only storms can catch the wind, for you cannot hunt with claws outstretched.

A sharp ringing bit at Rusty’s mind as his vision focused. Mud, green grass, red blood, and an absolute flood of water pouring from the clouds above. He couldn’t tell whether that dull roar was the thunder or the rain, or a monster roaring by, or even just some sound the headache in his brain was making as it pounded against his skull.

His eyesight didn’t clear. Not entirely, anyway. His left eye took longer than normal to focus, and his right stayed blacked out as hard as he tried to clear it.

His heart lurched, shooting him to his paws so fast the blood still inside him couldn’t keep up and he found himself seeing stars again, though in a much less literal sense. I have to get out of here , he thought, forcing his aching muscles into action, though his legs felt like twigs beneath him, threatening to give out any second. That fox could still be here! The others could be in trouble! I’ve got to-

“Steady, spitfire,” a new voice said. Higher pitched, but still with a good deal of weight in its tone. “Danger’s gone. You’re safe, now. We’re going to wait here for some help, okay?”

Rusty turned to see the new stranger. Lanky limbed, with pale fur and black stripes, a long, snake-like tail grazing the muddy earth below him. His blue-green eyes stormy and heavy, though a bright fire shone behind them. Rusty was sure - he could trust this cat. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew. This was the cat that saved his life. And on closer inspection on blood-soaked paws and muddied fur, the evidence was plain to see.

Rusty swallowed, now acutely aware of how hard he had been breathing and how dry it had made his tongue. His mouth tasted like adrenaline. He wanted to thank the stranger, pledge his allegiance to his savior. But the only words he could manage in that moment were “Where’s Runningkit?”

The striped cat jolted, seeing Rusty’s energy rising again. “Woah! Hold on, stay calm. The gray one you were with? They took off towards camp the second that fox turned on you. They looked hurt, but not as bad as you.” He shook his head. “Nasty creature just about ripped your face off. So we’re staying here. My sister’s gone to get help. Okay? I don’t want you running around with that much blood loss. So just…sit down, if you need to. You look like you’re about to black out again.”

Rusty would have nodded, but his head hurt so badly. Nearly ripped his face off? He’d believe it, with how bad he felt right now. He did what he was told, laying down in the mud and letting his legs breathe. This cat seemed to feel they were safe, at least. Besides, he didn’t think he could make a run for it in this condition. Best to play it safe. He closed his eyes, resting his aching head on his paws.

“Try and stay awake, if you can,” the stranger instructed. “But get your rest. You look like you need it.”

Rusty hummed, sighing a painful breath out. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “For helping me. I’m…sorry to have…been trouble.”

“No sorries, okay? Bad things happen. No use fretting right now.” The tabby paused. “I’m Longpaw, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Rusty.” His own voice seemed distant.

“Rusty?” Longpaw echoed. “So…you’re not a clan cat?” The skepticism in his voice was bordering on disgust.

Rusty shrugged, though immediately wished he didn’t as a new pain shot through his shoulders. “Not officially, yet. But Tallstar’s my father, if that helps. Just born outside.”

The tension in Longpaw’s body seemed to melt a bit. “Oh, that’s right. Palecloud’s your brother, yeah?”

“Yup. I’m still not old enough to be an apprentice, so I haven’t got a full name, yet.” He paused. “Are you from ThunderClan?” he asked, prying his one good eye open to see Longpaw sitting with him.

Longpaw nodded. “Born and raised. I’m the only apprentice right now. I’m hoping to be made a warrior before Goldenflower’s kits join me, but at this rate…I dunno. They’re a rough bunch, those three. Can’t ever agree on anything. Dustkit and Sandkit will take any excuse to argue, and Ravenkit’s afraid of his own shadow. Can’t imagine what it’s like in the nursery, right now. I understand why Frostfur doesn’t want to move in, yet. That and I’m pretty sure both she and Brindleface would explode if they go too long without working.” He chuckled to himself, but a small sound snapped his attention back to the forest. His ears perked up, and his eyes unclouded, his shoulders fell a hair with some sense of relief. “Mention a badger and it barges on in! Help’s here, Rusty! Just sit tight.”

Rusty turned his head gently as two cats burst out of the forest undergrowth. One of them, a small and soft tortoiseshell with a white muzzle carrying a bundle of supplies, immediately followed by a speckled gray tabby molly, who shot Longpaw a friendly yet teasing look as she approached, panting heavily. “Well, this badger wouldn’t mind some appreciation for the sprint I just made,” she jested. 

From the blood washing off her pelt in the rain and the large tear freshly carved in her left ear, Rusty could only guess that she was the sister Longpaw had mentioned, who helped him fight the fox and took off to get help. Shining green eyes the color of a sunny newleaf day, a voice like the scent of the apricot blooms from the tree in Jake’s backyard, a face that radiated comfort. His mind recalled that sky blue butterfly as his stomach lurched with something. Even with her dusty gray pelt the color of ash and grit, she shone in the darkness, her presence itself calming, in a way.

Longpaw chuckled, his relieved smile hard to hide, though he was certainly trying. “You’re a way better sight than any badger, Brin. Thank you so, so, so much, you’re a lifesaver!”

The gray tabby shrugged, before turning her gaze to Rusty. “I see our brave little fighter’s still holding on strong,” she said, her voice warm and sweet and with an audible smile, though her gaze was filled to bursting with worry.

“This is Rusty, Tallstar’s daughter, apparently,” Longpaw said with a flick of his tail.

Rusty’s ears fell back. “Son,” he corrected. Why did everyone keep doing that today?

The tortoiseshell, placing her bundle on the driest ground she could find, perked her ears up at this. “Ah! You must be Palecloud’s little brother, then!” she said, a chipper tone trying to mask her exhaustion. “It’s good to meet you, little one! I’m Spottedleaf, ThunderClan’s medicine cat. I’m going to patch you up, okay?”

Rusty sighed, a smile creeping onto his face. “Hi,” he muttered. “Thank you.”

Spottedleaf shook her head. “No need. Now, let’s get working. Brindleface, if you can start cleaning up the area around the wound? This works best on clean fur.”

Brindleface nodded, taking her place beside Rusty and laying down beside him. “I’ll be gentle, okay?” she cooed.

Rusty flashed a brighter smile, though he was painfully aware how wonky it looked. He lifted his head carefully, leaning into the ThunderClan cat’s touch. Warm, and safe. Rusty couldn’t help but wonder if she had a mate. He must be lucky. Her touch was so gentle, even with his wound so sensitive, like his nerves themselves were on fire. The quiet lapping of Brindleface’s tongue on his raw skin pulling blood and mud out of his fur was the most calming sensation he’d felt in what seemed like a lifetime, but was only about an hour or two. Her gentle purring at his side, clearly forced into her chest to help calm him, was doing an equally wonderful magic trick. His body ached so much he could hardly think before, but just the sound and feeling of her purring beside him seemingly numbed the pain. And the smell of her, like oak bark and holly leaves, somehow overpowering the scent of blood that stung so far back in his nose it stained his tongue.

His heart felt lighter, somehow, at the warmth of her flooding through his drenched fur, her gentle touch soothing frayed nerves, her quiet words spoken between licks lulling a violent mind back to the moment.

It took him a while to notice Longpaw and Spottedleaf arguing.

“But I can help!” Longpaw pleaded, almost sounding desperate. Suddenly that comment about Frostfur exploding if she didn’t get enough work sounded a little bit more like projection.

“You’ve done plenty!” Spottedleaf protested, sounding more irritable by the second. “I only need one set of helping paws, okay? You’re only going to get in the way at this point! And keep your paws to yourself! You’re messing up my herbs!”

Longpaw stuttered, grabbing for anything he could say. “I can’t just sit here! What do you want me to do? Say the word and I’ll do it!”

Brindleface sighed. “Go get a WindClan patrol, Longpaw. They should know he’s okay.”

Longpaw blinked at her, his mind whirring. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah! WindClan patrol, got it!”

Without another word, he was off, running into the WindClan territory without so much as a gust of wind for direction.

Spottedleaf sighed, deep and exasperated. “Thank StarClan, I thought he would never shut up.”

Brindleface rolled those pretty eyes. “He’s Mama’s son, that’s for sure.”

“You’re one to talk,” Spottedleaf said with a teasing smile. “Maybe if his big sisters would stop encouraging him…”

Brindleface scoffed, overdramatizing just how offended she really was. “Well, it’s certainly not my fault!” she said. “ThunderClan needs hard workers! Can you blame me for being one of them?”

Spottedleaf shook her head. “No talking sense into you lot, is there?”

She turned to approach Rusty, her herbs finally sorted and some poultice finally mixed. “Alright, let me see.” 

Brindleface leaned back, giving Spottedleaf room to work. The medicine cat seemed satisfied with how clean the wound was, giving it a good examination now that she was able to see it. Something in her face told Rusty it wasn’t particularly good news.

“Not as deep as I thought,” she muttered to herself, looking pensive enough to fold in on herself. “But a large affected area. Deep slashes in the ear, all the way down to the corner of the mouth. And that eye looks…”

She snapped her attention to Rusty proper. “Can you see? Out of this eye, I mean.”

“N-no,” he said, mumbling in something close to shame. Why was he afraid? He swallowed. “No, it’s all…”

“Fuzzy or black?”

“Black. Completely.”

Spottedleaf nodded solemnly. “Well, I’ll see what I can do.”

Rusty felt his paws shaking. “A-am I going to die?” he squeaked out.

“No,” Spottedleaf said plainly. “There’s a lot of blood, but that’s just because it’s a facial wound. It probably hurts worse, too.” She scooped something up in her paw, that poultice she had prepared before, and brought it close to Rusty’s face. “This might sting a bit, okay?”

Rusty nodded, before feeling that wet slime hit his face. At first, it didn’t feel that bad. But once the cool sensation faded, in came a sharp jab, as if…well, as if something very wet and chunky was just added to his fresh wound. With a vibrant sting so painful he could almost see Woollytail again, he squeezed his good eye shut and gritted his teeth, praying for it to pass quickly.

“Can you give him something for the pain?” Brindleface asked, her frown audible.

“Not here, I can’t,” said Spottedleaf. “If he’s going to walk back to camp, he’s going to need to be awake. And all I brought were poppy seeds. I thought it was going to be a lot worse, all things considered.”

The pain slowly began to numb again. Rusty felt his breathing coming heavy, and couldn’t help but press his face - the good side, at least - into Brindleface’s pelt, begging for more comfort as tears began to stream down the left side of his face.

Brindleface sighed, wrapping her tail around him and pulling him a little closer. “You’re alright,” she hummed, pressing her muzzle into the top of his head. “Shh, it’s okay. I know it hurts. But you’re being very brave.”

“Don’t mess it up!” Spottedleaf snapped. “If you do, I’ll have to start all over again! Just give me a second and I’ll wrap it for you, but don’t smudge it in the meantime.”

“He’s crying, Spottedleaf! Be nice. Poor little thing’s had a long day. Haven’t you?”

Rusty nodded. “Hurts. And I can’t stop thinking…”

Brindleface cocked her head. “About what?”

“My friends,” he said with a sniffle. “We snuck out of camp. We coulda died…we coulda…”

Brindleface shook her head, pressing into Rusty’s once again. “Now, now. A lesson learned, okay?”

Rusty shook his head. “They wouldn’t’ve gotten into this mess if I didn’t encourage them! They needed my help to pull it off, so I went with them. I…I wanted them to like me. I wanted to look cool. But Runningkit said some really mean things, and I felt like…like I had to prove myself. Now look where I am.” He blinked, looking up at Spottedleaf approaching with leaves and cobwebs prepared to bind his face. “I’m going to lose my eye, aren’t I?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Spottedleaf paused, looking down at her supplies, then nodded sadly. “It’s looking that way, yes. It’s severely damaged, and while you may not lose the eye completely…” She shook her head, reaching up to press a large flat leaf against the treated area and beginning to bind it to the face with cobwebs. “The vision, I’m afraid, would be harder to save. I’m going to keep you from bleeding out or getting an infection, but the rest is up to Barkface. And as good as he is, he’s no miracle worker.” She sighed, finishing up her work. “I’m sorry.”

Rusty’s heart sank. He was going to be blind - or half blind, at least - for the rest of his life. He had promised Tallstar that he would earn his stay when he was old enough to hunt. But now…would he end up in the elders’ den, like Lilywhisker? Would Tallstar kick him out for being-

“You’re not broken.”

It was Brindleface’s words again that snapped him out of it. She was good at that, like she had a lot of practice with over-thinkers.

“You’re still strong,” she continued. “If anything, this just proves it. And you’re going to recover, and you’re going to be a strong warrior, right?”

Rusty didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he could believe that.

Brindleface sighed. “Alright, let me tell you a story. Two kits, just like you, from RiverClan. Oakkit and Stormkit were their names. One day, they snuck out of camp, and Stormkit got badly hurt. His face was scarred, and his jaw was broken. Everyone thought he was a lost cause. But he survived, kept on moving, fighting hard as he needed to to be his best.”

Rusty blinked. “So? What happened to him? Did he die?”

Brindleface shook her head. “He’s leader of RiverClan, now. Crookedstar. And I’m sure he’ll go down as one of the best they’ve ever had.”

Rusty turned to Spottedleaf, heavy skepticism in his heart. “Is that true?” he asked.

The medicine cat nodded. “A short version of the story, yes. What did you think happened to his jaw?”

Rusty shrugged. “I dunno. I figured he got it in, like a battle or something. Did he really get it when he was my age?”

“Sure did,” said Brindleface. “But that’s what being a warrior is all about, right? Overcoming challenges, and helping each other. It’s what separates us from the loners and rogues that wander outside the territories. Do you think Deadfoot is any less of a great deputy because of his bad paw? Do you think Brokenstar’s tail makes him less of a leader? In ThunderClan, we have an elder who was born with a bad eye, who only agreed to retire once her hearing started going the same way. It’s all up to you.”

Spottedleaf rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if One-eye being stubborn as a badger is the best example of ThunderClan tenacity.”

“She’s certainly tenacious, though. You’ve got to give her that.”

Rusty paused. “Do…do I have to get a bad name?”

Brindleface blinked. “Pardon?”

“Crookedstar, Deadfoot, Brokenstar, and One-eye. They’ve all got…they’re all named after their injuries. Do I have to get a name like that?”

Brindleface shook her head. “Oh, honey, no. Most of them like their names, see it as a mark of honor for all they’ve gone through. But you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“If we named every cat for their failings, I could think of a few more fitting names for a few members of my clan,” Spottedleaf said flatly. “The reason they keep their names is that they don’t see it as a failure. They see it as proof of how strong they are. If you don’t want to be known for your injury, you don’t have to be.”

Brindleface chuckled. Rusty felt his heart lift again. “Tell us how you really feel, Spottedleaf!”

“Don’t encourage me. We could be here all day.”

Rusty finally found the strength to smile again. “Is she always like this?” he asked Brindleface.

“A bit,” she said, ignoring the sharp look from the tortoiseshell. “She doesn’t like to pretend, is all. She’s a lot nicer when she’s having a conversation with someone who isn’t a stubborn, over-working mom friend.”

“A stubborn, over-working mom friend who can’t keep her gossip out of the medicine den while I’m trying to treat wounded warriors!”

Brindleface gave a hearty laugh at Spottedleaf’s pouting face. “Oh, come on, Spotty. You know you love me!”

Spottedleaf sighed. “It would certainly be worse without you.”

Rusty smiled. It was nice to have a lighter air again. These two seemed like good friends, as much as they teased each other. Their body language was relaxed and flippant, and their energy contagious. He couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

Of course, those butterflies in his stomach didn’t want to die down any time soon, but at least the natural air was helping pass the time more quickly. Hopefully, Longpaw would return soon, and he would bring-

“Rusty!”

That screech was definitely Tiny’s.

Rusty tried pulling himself to his paws, only to find his muscles still too weak to give him the strength. He needed rest, and every bone and muscle in his body told him to lay back down, even while his heart reached for his brother crashing through the fog.

“Easy, now,” Brindleface said quietly, bracing herself against his body to steady him. “No rush. Take it slow.”

Tiny’s ice blue eyes pierced through the rain long before his silhouetted frame did as he approached the trio, his paws caked in mud and his fur drenched. His eyes looked wider than Rusty had ever seen them before, filled with a wild fear that only grew as they landed on his injury. He put that aside, however, and barreled in to press his face to Rusty’s.

“You’re alive!” he said, sounding relieved. “Thank StarClan, you’re alive. I…I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t.”

Rusty sighed, putting all his weight forward and collapsing into his brother’s fur. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry. I’ll never do anything so mouse-brained again, I promise. I’ll be good, every day from now on. No complaining, no rough play, no hare-brained schemes to go fight a fox, nothing.”

“You’d better keep to that promise!” The voice was Mudclaw’s, his figure following Tiny’s out of the fog. “You scared us all near to death, I’ll tell you! Got the whole clan searching every blade of grass in the territory for you!”

Longpaw hurried up to join him, followed shortly by Larksplash, then Morningflower, someone else’s blood staining her left shoulder. “How is he?” she asked, turning to Spottedleaf. “He’ll be okay, right?”

Spottedleaf nodded. “His face got the worst of it, it looks a lot worse than it actually is. I’m worried he may lose the eye, but better than a leg or a lung.”

“And he’ll be fine, we’re sure,” Brindleface chimed in, flashing him a warm smile. “He’s a strong little warrior. It’ll take more than a bad eye to stop him. Isn’t that right?”

Rusty nodded, smiling back at her. “I can take it. I can do it.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” said Mudclaw. “Even after such a nasty fight, you get right back up. No one can say you’re not WindClan, now.”

Rusty felt his smile grow a little more, his heart jumping up to puff his chest out without his effort. WindClan! He was WindClan! Mudclaw said it! Mudclaw! Not even Runningkit could argue now! If WindClan’s most diligent warrior accepted him, then he was in! And there was nothing anyone could do to change that.

“Where’s the fox now?” Tiny wondered aloud. “You didn’t kill it, did you?”

Longpaw shook his head. “It ran off, towards ShadowClan. Hoping it doesn’t have a taste for kits now, at least.”

“And Runningkit?” Larksplash asked.

“Took off towards camp once the fox got Rusty,” Brindleface said. “Didn’t look too hurt, but we only got a glance.”

Mudclaw nodded. “As long as she’s headed back to camp, that’s good news. Bristlebark was taking Webkit back, and Whitekit stayed behind and is with Flytail, now.”

“Not counting it until all four are back safe,” Tiny argued.

“Of course. But at least they’re not ‘somewhere on the territory’.” Mudclaw took a step aside, giving Longpaw a nudge with his shoulder. “You and Brindleface by yourself, eh? Just the two of you?”

Longpaw nodded. “Y-yes, sir. It wasn’t too bad a fight, to be honest. I think the kits managed to wear it out, and your warriors seemed to have done a good job of starving it.”

“Still, not an easy call,” Larksplash said. “A fox for another clan’s kit?”

“It’s part of the code, isn’t it? Every warrior’s duty to protect kits in need, no matter the clan.”

Mudclaw nodded. “He’s got that right. Very right.” He turned to Brindleface. “Thank you, earnestly. Both of you. Tell Bluestar that WindClan is grateful for your fine work today. And make sure she knows just how well this young apprentice did.”

Brindleface nodded politely. “I will. Take good care of the little ones.”

“Speaking of,” Tiny said, turning to Spottedleaf. “Thank you. So very much, Spottedleaf. You have no clue how worried I was. I’m grateful he was in good paws.”

Spottedleaf smiled. “And now I hope you know what being a clan cat is all about, Palecloud. Not about an easy life, but about carrying each other when life gets hard.”

Rusty couldn’t help but notice something click in Tiny’s gaze. Like he was trying to solve a riddle, and only just now was told the answer. Something he had been puzzling over for a while, guessing from the soft and genuine smile he gave Spottedleaf.

Woollytail’s words came back to him: It’ll make sense when it’s time for it to make sense.

Tiny sighed. “Alright, little warrior. Let’s get you back home.”

Rusty nodded, turning to follow the group back out into the fog. He turned over his shoulder, watching the ThunderClan cats disappear into the forest behind him. “Thank you!” he called out, hoping his voice was heard above the rain.

Brindleface turned back to him, shooting him one last warm smile.

Enough of an adventure for today.

Chapter Text

Rusty’s face lit up as Tiny pulled him into the medicine den. After such a long day, it was good to see a smile on his poor, beaten face.

“Webkit!” he exclaimed, quickening his pace a little to see his denmate. Webkit’s leg was heavily bandaged, his shoulder torn open down to his chest. But Barkface had bound it well, and so long as the little kit didn’t move too much, he would be fine.

Webkit’s muscles relaxed so hard when he heard Rusty’s voice that he looked like a totally different cat. “You’re alive!” he said with a sigh. “Thank StarClan. I thought…I thought I got you killed.”

Rusty immediately took his place, curled up in the nest against him. It was a little small for the two near-apprentices, but they looked better off leaning on each other for comfort. Rusty shook his head. “No, no. I should have thought better. I went along with it because I wanted you two to like me. If I didn’t care so much, neither of us would be…like this.”

Webkit scoffed. “I already like you, mouse-brain!” he said, giving Rusty a playful bat with his tail. “That’s why I did it! I wanted to be cool, like you!”

Rusty blinked. “Really? That’s…that’s…so nice of you to say.”

“And I’ll say it again! Not many kits - not many cats - can get mauled so thoroughly by a fox and live!”

Tiny sat just inside the entrance, watching the two get comfortable enough to rest and heal. Their bodies had a lot of healing to do, and the best medicine for that at this point was time. But their minds needed healing, and to that end, they needed each other. The support of a denmate in the same situation, whose life was changed as equally as yours by the trauma you shared.

Tiny knew this was going to be the first of many long nights of recovery.

The others dispersed rather quickly upon reaching camp. Morningflower and Larksplash took off to go find the other patrols and let them know the kits were found, and Mudclaw took it upon himself to fix that hole in the apprentices’ den, so that nothing like this could get by so easily again. Slowly, one by one, WindClan returned to camp, each exhausted and soaked to the bone.

Tiny made sure to thank each and every one of them as they passed through camp.

Even Rushtail, who managed to show up with an extra surprise, having intercepted a frantic Runningkit on his patrol.

She was dragged into the medicine den with the rest of them, even though her wounds were nothing more than a nick on the face that was pouring blood.

“Where’d you find her?” Barkface asked.

“Hiding in an old rabbit burrow,” Rushtail explained. “Had her head down in the dirt as far as it could go. Wouldn’t have noticed her if not for her tail sticking up out of the grass.”

Runningkit huffed. “I panicked, okay?” she protested, being herded into the den by a Flytail who was both very happy to see her back and very fed up with her attitude. “You try and fight a fox and come out alive! See how ‘dignified’ you are then!”

“I did ,” Rushtail reminded her, flicking his battered tail in her direction. “And from what I remember, both of my companions still have their eyes .”

Runningkit pouted, being shoved further in the den by her father. “Alright, enough of this,” Flytail said, ushering everyone inside. “Thank you, Rushtail, for finding her. And for bringing her back in one piece.”

Rushtail nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go help Mudclaw check the camp wall.”

Tiny gave a curt nod as Rushtail passed him. “Thank you,” he said.

Rushtail paused in place, shooting Tiny a skeptical look. “Why?” he asked. “I only found Runningkit. Rusty was your find.”

Tiny sighed. “Because you didn’t have to help at all. You had every excuse to not get involved. And yet you did. And you deserve my gratitude.”

Rushtail shrugged, turning his gaze downward. “Don’t mention it. Everyone did.”

“Crowfur didn’t. You could have been him.”

Rushtail laughed aloud. “Crowfur doesn’t think of anyone but himself. Not being Crowfur doesn’t net me praise, it’s the bare minimum.”

Tiny chuckled. “Still. Thank you for jumping in. It means a lot to see everyone working together like this.”

Rushtail paused, looking out at the rain. Tiny could see his mind begin to churn. “Hey, odd question.”

Tiny blinked. “Hm? What is it?”

“Do you think…do you think I have a shot with Morningflower?”

Tiny was a little taken aback. Where was this coming from? “I’ll be honest, I thought you two were already courting.”

“I wish.” Rushtail shook his head. “I try my best, but I don’t think she notices me.”

Tiny looked out the entryway into the camp. He caught sight of Morningflower, returning with Stagleap’s patrol, peering back into the den and smiling a little too big when she caught sight of Rushtail, then turning away, her ears drooping in embarrassment.

Uh huh. Didn’t notice him at all.

“What brought this on?” Tiny asked. “When you said odd question, I was expecting something a little more like ‘have you ever killed someone’, not ‘do you think she likes me’.” He paused. “I haven’t, by the way.”

Rushtail chuckled at the joke, then shook his head sadly. “Onewhisker. He spent the whole patrol berating me for trying to seduce his sister. Said she was too young for me, said I can’t have her because I’d have all the power.” He rolled his eyes. “She was a kit when I was an apprentice, for StarClan’s sake! How’s that for an age gap?”

“Don’t pay him much mind,” Tiny said. “He’s probably just upset that his sisters both found toms they like and he can’t even talk to a molly.”

“That and the only one he’s not related to is Larksplash, the cat who refuses to retire.”

Tiny couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe that’s why! Either way, he’s probably just projecting. Don’t take it so personally. It sounds like a Onewhisker problem. I say talk to her, tell her how you feel. I’m sure she’d appreciate the initiative.”

Rushtail sighed, then puffed out his chest and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’ll…I’ll talk to her. Later, though. Don’t exactly think these are…romantic circumstances.” He looked over his shoulder, back at the kits, their injuries being treated as he spoke. “When the weather clears up, I’ll ask if she wants to take a walk. That’s good, right? Just…one on one?”

Tiny nodded. “Sounds perfect. Good luck, Rushtail. Not that I think you’ll need it.”

Rushtail smiled back at him, a small, candid smile, catching sight of something in Tiny’s eyes that he himself couldn’t perceive. “You’re…not bad, Palecloud.”

Tiny couldn’t help but feel a warmth glowing inside as Rushtail slipped out of the den.

Palecloud.

It was beginning to feel like his.

The night fell heavy on sore muscles and broken skin as fur slowly dried and blood was washed off.

Tiny slept in the nursery, as he usually did, though it was painfully quiet now, without even the sound of Sorrelshine’s breathing in the background. She had decided to stay in the medicine den, keeping an eye on the kits while Barkface got some rest. Whitekit had joined her, curling up against Rusty and Webkit, the three falling asleep in a big pile, with Sorrelshine wrapped around a Runningkit who had barely been quiet enough to let the others sleep.

“It wasn’t my fault!” she insisted to anyone who would listen. It was Rusty’s fault for leading them out, it was Webkit’s fault for listening to her, it was Whitekit’s fault for not telling anyone, which she had, according to Runningkit, been instructed to do. Clearly, it was Crowfur’s fault for coming up with the hare-brained idea, and Tallstar’s fault for not having his warriors do it. Not to mention Flytail’s fault for letting them play in the apprentice den, Mudclaw’s fault for not patching the hole, Cloudrunner’s fault for giving them the mouse…anyone but her.

Her whining only stopped when Sorrelshine agreed to sleep in her nest, though she had mostly done it to keep the little troublemaker close enough to notice if anything was amiss.

Sorrelshine had invited Tiny to join, sleep in the medicine den for the night. Tiny declined, using the excuse of Barkface having enough guests for one night.

In reality, he didn’t want his sleep talking disturbing the kits.

When his nightmares got particularly vibrant, blending fact and fiction so horrifyingly as to be indistinguishable from reality, his body tended to react. Most nights, it was confined to a mumble or whine, but he had his fair share of days jolted awake by the sound of his own screaming. It tended to happen on nights after a long, tiring day, ones with a lot of excitement.

The kits could use a better night’s sleep than that.

Sure enough, the feeling of needle-point teeth pricking thousands of times into his throat and wringing him out like a piece of prey was broken by a sharp jab, and the calling of his name, as had happened so many times before.

“Tiny!”

His eyes snapped awake, back in the cozy air of the nursery. He sighed. “Sorry,” he began, even before making eye contact with the cat who roused him. “Bad dream.”

Darkfoot huffed. “Yeah, I could tell. You were screaming bloody murder in here.” He shot Tiny a look. “What could you even be dreaming about that scares you so bad?”

Tiny shrugged. “Something that happened a long, long time ago. I’ll be honest, I don’t know why it’s still so bad.”

Darkfoot shook his head. “I’ll never understand, I don’t think. Maybe you could talk to Barkface? He might have something for you.” He paused. “Speaking of, he asked me to come get you when you were awake. Apparently has a special mission, if you’re up for it.”

Tiny blinked. “Special mission?” he echoed. “What kind? Doesn’t involve finding that fox again, does it?”

“Thankfully not,” said Darkfoot. “He needs an escort for herbs. Apparently, his supplies are running a little low, or something. I volunteered to go with, but he asked if you’d want to come, too.”

“Sure,” said Tiny, rising to his paws. His muscles stretched painfully, shaking off sleep. “I’m up for a scavenger hunt.”

Darkfoot shook his head again. “Apparently, it’s not that kind of herb mission.”

Tiny cocked his head. “Then…what is it?”

Darkfoot shrugged. “Up for asking him yourself?”

Tiny thought for a second. Was he up for another long day? It seemed early for this, the sun just barely tinting the sky outside a pastel pink. Barkface must have wanted to get started early, to have enough time throughout the day to get his actual work done. But it could be an all-day project.

Eventually, he nodded. Couldn’t hurt to ask. And besides, if it was to help the kits, he was up for it.

Barkface stood outside the medicine den, waiting for Darkfoot. His eyes seemed heavy with a restless night. Apparently a big over-thinker, too. It made sense, Tiny thought. He was the one who had to solve these problems. Rusty’s eye and Webkit’s leg. If he could get any functionality back into them, he wanted to. But it was looking sour. For Rusty, at least.

His face lightened a bit as the two approached. “Good morning!” he called out, though a yawn trapped in the back of his throat told Tiny it wasn’t that good of a morning for the medicine cat. “You up for a walk?”

Tiny’s face twisted, that muscle in his eye twitching into a fit. “Where to?” he asked, ignoring the feeling.

“I need an herb that doesn’t grow in WindClan. Celandine. It’s good for the eyes, but I’m fresh out. And I also need to refresh my stock of herbs to fight infection. Spottedleaf used oak leaves to prevent infection for Rusty’s wound, and it’s done an admirable job. But I used a lot of mine for Rushtail, so I’d like to get something to help in case things do get infected.” He shrugged. “Lucky for me, celandine grows in ThunderClan and RiverClan, so I shouldn’t need to deal with ShadowClan at all. But it does mean a bit of a trip. If you’re up for it, I mean. Darkfoot and I can probably handle it. I just…figured you’d like to have something to occupy yourself with today.”

Darkfoot nodded. “Plus, we do enjoy your company.”

Tiny smiled. It was nice to hear that Barkface was thinking of him. “Sounds good,” he said. “Where to first?”

“ThunderClan,” Barkface said, picking up a few large dock leaves off the ground. “I’d like to talk to Spottedleaf, anyway, and hopefully, if she has what we need, we won’t have to head to RiverClan at all.”

Tiny nodded. “Well, I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

The walk was long, and fairly quiet. That is, aside from Darkfoot talking with Tiny.

He asked that same question; do you think I have a chance with Ashfoot? Onewhisker had, apparently, begun accosting him the second Rushtail was out of his sight.

Tiny’s advice was the same. Go for it.

“Is it normal for him to be so…confrontational?” he asked in return.

“Not at all,” said Darkfoot. “That’s why I’m so worried. He’s never like this. So, I figured, I must be doing something wrong. Really, really wrong.”

Tiny shook his head. “You’re not, I assure you.”

Darkfoot sighed. “Good. I really like her. And I don’t need another cat messing up my shot with her.” He turned his nose up. “I’ll ruin my chances on my own, thank you!”

Tiny couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll warn her you’re headed her way, then.”

The trio crossed at Fourtrees, careful not to enter ShadowClan territory for even a second. The trees grew dense soon after they exited the clearing, the sun quickly fading into dappled patches dancing on the forest floor. The ground beneath was still wet from the day before, and the trees still dripped with rain water. Tiny shivered as a droplet landed solidly on his nose, so hard it was audible to the others.

“Stick close,” Barkface instructed. “I don’t want anyone getting lost again.”

It was a deserved warning, though not one Tiny needed to hear aloud. The dense tangle of trees was so different to WindClan. It was near impossible to get lost on the moors, where the only obstacle to block your view was the grass and heather. Even the smallest sense of direction was enough to get back to camp. But here, Tiny knew, every tree in this forest had to be mentally mapped to avoid getting hopelessly lost, going in circles where everything looks the same.

He’d say he wasn’t sure how he navigated it before, when he came from twolegplace. But he was actually completely sure.

When it first happened, he wasn't certain he wasn’t hallucinating. But now, looking around and seeing how easy it would have been to lose himself, he was grateful for the ghostly figure that guided him through.

That cat. He had met her before.

Back behind the fenceline, after his encounter with Tigerpaw, bleeding and winded and crying uncontrollably, that figure, just barely there on the front of his consciousness, like the opposite of a dream. That tall, lithe molly, black and white like him, long legs and a longer tail, who once led him back to Jake, had led him through the maze of trees, dodging a patrol or two along the way, and led him, and Rusty, to Tallstar. That ethereal cat, just a tickle in his mind, that no one else seemed to see.

Like a guardian angel.

And now, in the dense woods of ThunderClan territory, the trees only getting thicker as they walked, he was grateful for that guidance.

“Look alive, Palecloud!” Darkfoot called. “We’re here.”

Tiny’s attention snapped up as he caught sight of a cat sitting outside the gorse wall. Oddly similar to WindClan’s, he thought. The cat was small, about on par with him, though much more sturdy in build. Soft, dusky brown fur framed eyes blue as clear water, with a skeptical look scanning the trio.

“Yeah, no,” she said, sneering at the group.

Barkface blinked. “No? What do you mean, no? We’re on a diplomatic mission!”

The cat shrugged. “Sure. Whatever you say. I’m here to guard the camp from anyone who isn’t ThunderClan. We’re cracking down.”

Barkface huffed. “I’m the WindClan medicine cat! I have to talk to Spottedleaf! So either bring her out here or let me in!”

The molly smiled mischievously. “Or?”

Barkface glared so hard Tiny was almost positive he was going to set the forest on fire. “Mousefur, I’m not leaving. So either bring out someone more reasonable or let me in! I need to speak to Spottedleaf about a very important medical matter!”

“WindClan can’t solve their own problems?” Mousefur teased. “Too bad. Guess your face will just have to stay like that.”

Barkface gritted his teeth. “Listen here, you-!”

His words were cut short by a rustling of the gorse tunnel behind Mousefur.

Tiny’s heart leapt into his throat as a massive brown tabby pushed his way through the entrance. Brown fur, black stripes, huge paws, no doubt hiding razor-sharp claws, a deep slash in one ear, and amber eyes the color of rage.

Those same eyes he saw in his dreams every night.

No doubt about it. It was him .

Barkface, however, sighed in relief. “Tigerclaw,” he said. “Finally, someone with some sense in their head.”

Tigerclaw’s gaze was heavy, serious. “Barkface,” he said, his voice deep and dark. “Good morning. I hope Mousefur here isn’t giving you a hard time.”

“Of course I’m not!” Mousefur said.

“Of course she is,” Barkface replied. “We’re here to talk to Spottedleaf, if that’s alright?”

Tigerclaw nodded, giving a small, professional smile. “Of course. I was just about to head out for a hunt, but I’m happy to let you in.”

He shot a glare Mousefur’s direction. Tiny could see her shrink away from the look, turning her gaze and dropping her ears.

Tiny couldn’t help but pity her.

But now he found himself in a position he never wanted to be in. Being let into the ThunderClan camp by Tigerclaw, of all cats. His heart beat harder and harder, hoping, praying, that Tigerclaw didn’t recognize him.

“You alright?” Darkfoot whispered to him. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

Tiny took a shaky breath. “H-he’s huge,” he muttered, barely audible, his voice being swallowed by the gorse around him.

Darkfoot chuckled. “I promise, he only bites RiverClan cats.”

Tiny knew that wasn’t true.

Somehow, he had forgotten that going to ThunderClan meant seeing him, the cat that kept him from closing his eyes at night.

You’ll never forget me.

Tiny could only hope he wasn’t that cat these days.

The light shone bright into his eyes as he exited the tunnel, leading out into the ancient riverbed that was the ThunderClan camp. Cats of all shapes and sizes were buzzing around, talking amongst themselves, getting ready for the day. Tiny noticed a few familiar faces, most from the Gathering. One of those white cats, playing around with a gray kitten a bit younger than Rusty. Reminded him of Flytail, as the white tom rolled on his back following a pounce on the side. A dilute tortoiseshell laughed from the nursery entrance, her face bright. Around her scrambled a few older kits. One black, one brown, one sandy-cream, all tabby. Tigerclaw’s face seemed to melt into a gentler look as he watched the three play fighting. Tiny blinked. The brown one had his eyes.

Elders sat around nearby, bickering like Cloudrunner and Appledawn. One gray, one brown, the brown one laughing as the gray one tried to argue over something minute. All around, warriors began falling off into groups. A black and white tom grabbed the attention of a tall and pretty tortoiseshell, asking a question she was happy to hear. Two golden tabbies spoke nearby, one clearly asking a favor. The other agreed, searching the clearing for who he could ask to aid him with his newly acquired chore. They must have been related. Siblings, Tiny guessed by their equal size.

And in the middle of the buzz, two familiar faces. One, a gray tabby molly with a striped red tail. The other, a tortoiseshell tom.

Tiny paused, turning to Barkface. “Do…you mind if I go say hi for a second?” he asked. “I don’t want to abandon you.”

Barkface shrugged, smiling through his cargo. “Go ahead. We won’t be here long, mind. But I can handle myself.”

Tiny nodded, turning to approach, when his movement was cut short by a figure in his path.

“Don’t wander,” Tigerclaw instructed, that heat building up in his eyes. “You’re not here on sight-seeing.”

Tiny froze, feeling the muscle in his eye begin to twitch again. The air began to swirl around him, everywhere but his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He was small, so small, and this cat…he was huge. Tigerclaw. Tigerpaw. The cat who tried to kill him. He felt himself begin to shake as the massive tabby stared him down. His mouth felt dry. Painfully dry. He felt like he was going to vomit.

Say goodbye, kittypet.

“Hey, hey!” A familiar, chirpy voice rang out from behind the giant warrior. “Tigerclaw! Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, but they’re just visitors!”

Tiny felt something small inside him relax. “Redtail!” he managed to call out, seeing the ThunderClan deputy appear at Tigerclaw’s side.

Redtail smiled bright, but was only met with a scowl. “They don’t belong here,” Tigerclaw argued. “They could be here scouting our camp, for all you know.”

Redtail sighed. “I mean, you’re right, of course. But I’m much, much more inclined to believe that if it were, say, RiverClan.” He shook his head. “I get you want to protect us. And I’m glad you’re so diligent about that. But relax a little, okay? You’re not going to do yourself any favors by getting yourself so high-strung over the WindClan medicine cat bringing an escort. Besides, Palecloud’s a friend.”

Tigerclaw’s stare held strong, but he nodded. “I’ll…let it slide. If you trust him. But don’t get too comfortable with outsiders, alright?” Comfortable with the compromise, Tigerclaw stalked off, back out towards the entrance where he came from.

Tiny sighed, laughing a little. “Thanks, Redtail. I thought…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. I know your warriors wouldn’t hurt me here, but…”

Redtail shrugged. “I get it. He’s pushy. He’s just kind of gotten a lot more…guarded since his kits arrived.”

“I understand,” Tiny said. “It must be helpful to have someone so dutiful and guarded during a war, though.”

“I suppose,” said Redtail, averting his gaze. There was clearly more on the subject.

“Palecloud!” Rosetail said next, bounding over between Tiny and Redtail. “Hi! Do you remember me? Rosetail, remember? Oh, I wish I got to see you at the last Gathering! Wish I got to go. Apparently your dad put on quite the show for everyone! Told Brokenstar off real good, didn’t he? Oh, I wish I could have seen it! But Bluefur said I couldn’t go this time. Acted like I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Can you believe that? You think she’d know me better, after all we’ve been through. It’s not like the Sunningrocks raids ever go that well, anyway. No reason to keep me from talking. But how have you been? I haven’t seen you at all! Is your brother adjusting well? How is he? How’s WindClan?”

Tiny blinked, processing what was just said. It all blended together into one long word. Redtail pushed his way forward, ushering her back. “For StarClan’s sake, Rosetail! Let the cat breathe! Or at least respond. You just asked him, like, twelve questions!”

Tiny chuckled. “Ah, it’s fine. I’m doing well, getting into the swing of things. As for Rusty…I’d say he’s doing better than I am, but right now, he’s…”

“Spottedleaf told us,” Redtail cut in. “Or, she told me , anyway. The fox got him good, yeah?”

Rosetail gasped. “Oh, poor thing! I heard about the fox, but not about Rusty! Is he alright?”

“He’ll be fine,” Tiny assured. “He’s strong, and it’ll take more than a bad eye to keep him down.”

Rosetail smiled. “Well, that’s good to hear,” she said.

“Speaking of,” Tiny continued, “I wanted to let Brindleface and Longpaw know he’s doing alright. Are they available?”

Redtail chuckled. “Well, I doubt you’ll be finding much of Longpaw, since I just dismissed him. Besides, he goes by Longtail, now.”

Tiny felt his eyes light up, though the action was involuntary. “Ah! Well, good to hear! Give him my congrats when you see him next, would you?”

“Will do!” Rosetail chirped. “I just got back from dawn patrol, so I’ll probably be here when he gets up. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know the little scamp made it back safe and sound!”

Redtail looked to Tiny, his eyes glistening with worry. “What even happened, in the end?” he asked. “I mean, what made them go out in such bad weather with a fox around in the first place? They had to have known how dangerous it was! They’re old enough to know that, at least. Right?”

Tiny sighed. “They got some silly idea about leading the fox to ShadowClan. One of the warriors had suggested it.” He shook his head. “I forget who,” he lied, knowing Crowfur would never hear the end of it if Rosetail got word, “but the idea really got to the kits. So they…made a bad choice. A really bad choice. And we’re all very grateful they made it out with only an eye as a casualty.”

Redtail nodded. “Yeah, kits pick up on their surrounding energy. A war turns a clan into a battleground, mentally.”

He turned, looking off at the kits wrestling in front of the nursery, his eyes stormy. The two bigger ones, the sandy one and the brown one, circled each other, backs arched and ready to strike.

“Keep your filthy paws off of our territory, Appledusk!” the brown tom barked, stalking around the other. “Sunningrocks belongs to ThunderClan, and it will until I draw my last breath!”

The sandy molly spat on the ground, her tail puffed up nearly to the size of her whole body. “Then today is that day, Birchface!” she yelled. “If you’re all that stands between us and our rightful territory, then you’re not leaving here alive!”

Tiny blinked, watching the two fall into a ball of uncoordinated flailing. The blows were fake, their claws sheathed and teeth unbared. But the molly seemed to be winning, overpowering her brother fairly easily. He turned back to Rosetail. “Do all of their play fights come with such rich backstory?”

“They’re playing out a story they’ve heard,” she explained. “Birchface was the brother of their grandfather. Appledusk was the RiverClan cat who killed him. Fascinating story, really! See, Appledusk ended up having an affair with a ThunderClan cat, Mapleshade, and-“

“Well, it was lovely to see you, Palecloud,” Redtail cut in. “But I’ve got work to do. Patrols to organize, prey to hunt, that sort of thing. A deputy’s work is never done! Tell your dad I said hi, though! And Rusty, too!”

Without so much as a glance to Rosetail, the deputy trotted off to go find someone - anyone - to go on patrol with.

Tiny got the sense this wasn’t a story he was fond of.

“Oh, come on!” Rosetail protested, shouting after Redtail. “That one’s the best! War, love, betrayal! All the good stuff!” She turned to Tiny, a fire burning deep in her chest. “You want to hear the rest, right?”

He had to admit, he was intrigued. But now, here he was, one-on-one with Rosetail. This was something he had wanted for a while, now.

It’s best he’s forgotten.

Those words rang back into Tiny’s mind. Redtail seemed serious. While this may have been his one chance to talk about it, it was also a rare chance to make a good impression.

He nodded. “I love a good story.”

Rosetail beamed wide. “Great! This one comes from my grandfather’s age, so I always loved it. Take a seat, it’s a wild one.”

Tiny did as he was told, sitting on the dew covered grass and wrapping his tail around his paws, still sore from yesterday.

“So, Birchface. He was a good cat, a good deputy, and son of the leader, Oakstar. He and his sister, Frecklewish, along with the medicine cat, Ravenwing, ran the clan well. But they were at war with RiverClan, and Birchface was killed by a RiverClan warrior named Appledusk. The clan mourned him for days. But there were rumors that he and a fellow ThunderClan warrior, Mapleshade, were courting. And what do you know, Mapleshade was pregnant! Everyone was so happy that Birchface’s kits would get to live on, even if it was without him. Frecklewish poured her heart into these little ones, and became something like a second mother to them. Everyone was in love with them. The pride and joy of ThunderClan, and a beautiful sign that the clan could heal from its great losses.

“But the truth came out, in the end. The father wasn’t Birchface. It was Appledusk, the cat who had killed him. So they were exiled. Frecklewish in particular was so furious she tried to kill Mapleshade herself, but couldn’t bring herself to harm these kits she had let herself love for so long. No one could. So Oakstar exiled them. But it was the middle of a storm, in the wet season. The river was flooded. Mapleshade couldn’t cross into RiverClan safely, but she couldn’t stay in ThunderClan. The kits died that night, and Mapleshade sought refuge in RiverClan. But they wouldn’t allow her. Appledusk lied, said the kits weren’t his, and that she was nothing more than a ThunderClan spy. After all, he had a new mate, Reedshine, and she was pregnant. So he couldn’t tell the clan of his affair.”

Tiny blinked, feeling his eyes growing wide. “They sentenced kits to death for their parentage?” he asked, his voice shaking a little.

Rosetail shook her head. “Frecklewish pleaded with her father to let the kits stay, but he hated them, couldn’t look at them without seeing his son’s murderer. So Frecklewish tried to save them, to show everyone they were strong. But she couldn’t. They were too little. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t save them.

“But Mapleshade lived, in exile. She swore her revenge on the cats who had hurt her. She killed Appledusk, hating him for his lie and for moving on. But before she could kill Reedshine, a brave young apprentice, Perchpaw, dove in, slashing Mapleshade’s throat! And she died, having been taunted into the darkness by her desire for vengeance.”

Tiny paused. Vengeance. There was that word again. Scourge had used it, in his dream. That cat that looked like him, spoke with his voice, glared with his eyes, but wasn’t him. And hadn’t been for a long time.

He swallowed. “Quite the story,” he murmured.

Rosetail nodded. “And every word of it true.”

“What became of them all?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Reedshine gave birth to healthy kits, who became RiverClan warriors. They had their kits, and they had theirs. One of them, now, is leader of that same clan, with his brother as deputy. They each have their own, and it sounds like one of them, Mistyfoot, may be on her own way to starting a family. Oakstar had another kit, Pinestar, who went on to father Tigerclaw, whose own kin-” she flicked her tail over towards the kits, still playing at the nursery entrance, “-still tell this story themselves.”

Pinestar. It was hard to think that was him, that fat old cat that sat on the fence every day and yelled at Tiny for daring to glance to the forest, his face slashed to ribbons, his pelt duller and growing more gray every day. And yet, their kin lived here, in ThunderClan. Now that he really looked, he could see it in their faces. The molly, in particular, had those signature green eyes.

“What about Frecklewish?” Tiny asked, turning back to Rosetail. “How did she manage?”

Rosetail sighed. “That’s where the story gets fuzzy. See, they found her at Snakerocks, having her eyes gouged out and succumbing to venom from snake bites. Everyone thought Mapleshade did it. But she refused to speak. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, and eventually died of the venom. My mother always said it was Mapleshade. But the way I see it, I don’t know if I could have lived like that, myself.”

Tiny blinked. “Blinded?” His heart ached for Rusty.

But Rosetail shook her head. “She loved those kits, like her own. She lost them, like she lost her brother. I’ve lost, too. My sister, my brothers, my father. And I know how hard survivor’s guilt preys on a mind.”

Tiny’s heart sank. “You think it was suicide?”

“It…makes sense, is all I’m saying. Different cats handle grief differently. Frecklewish turned her grief into love, but lost again. That guilt…it does things to you. I know it broke my brother.”

Tiny paused. Maybe he could get answers, after all. “Your brother? Thistleclaw?”

He tried not to let his vindication show as Rosetail nodded. “You’ve heard of him, I see. He lost his mate young. It…changed him, I think. We’ve had a lot of hardship in our family.” She chuckled, her laugh dripping with pain. “In some ways, I kind of relate to Frecklewish.” She flinched. “Not… that part, mind. I just meant I understand the thought process of losing so much and having to go on. I feel some cats would think it easier to give up.”

Tiny nodded. He couldn’t help but remember running down the river, chasing after Nutmeg’s kits, hoping against reality that he could do something for him. How would he have managed if they were his own siblings? If Rusty was tossed down that river, and he had still failed? What if the ThunderClan cats hadn’t saved him from the fox? What if something bad happened again?

“It must be hard. For her. For you.”

Rosetail shrugged. “We get by. I still have my mother, and Dappletail, and Whitestorm and his sons. I try to take that message of hers to heart, more than her death, to turn pain into love.”

That’s right. Whitestorm was Thistleclaw’s son, wasn’t he? Thinking back to the white warrior playing with the gray kitten, that must have been him. Whitestorm.

Tiny took a second before daring to ask the question. “How did you lose them, if I may ask. If it’s not too rough a topic of conversation.”

Rosetail smiled a pained smile. “It’s fine. Windflight was my father. We lost him to old age. Tawnyspots, my eldest brother, went similarly. We have…a condition. It runs in the family. It’s complicated, but it does mean I’ll probably have to retire early. And it means I can’t have kits. We thought Dappletail was the same way, for a long time.”

She cleared her throat, clearly cutting off a tangent before it sprouted. “Anyway, Thistleclaw was killed by RiverClan. We had a truce for a few moons, but they broke it with him. Dapletail’s lost her little ones. Featherkit, we don’t know what happened. But Cricketpaw was recent. She and our brother, Thrushpelt, both. Greencough got them. And Thrushpelt’s kits, too. But that was a long time ago. Taken by a badger, poor things. Sometimes I wonder if our family’s cursed.”

Tiny shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear all that. But it’s good to know you still have those you love.”

She shrugged. “I’m in ThunderClan, remember? We always have others to look out for. That’s what it means to be part of a clan. I don’t just have my kin, but my friends, too. Bluefur, for a start. And Brindleface, and Goldenflower, and Lionheart! They’re the reason I do what I do. I’m sure you know the feeling.”

Tiny couldn’t help but give a soft smile. “I’m glad to say I do.”

“Palecloud!” Barkface called out from across the clearing. Darkfoot was behind him, carrying Barkface’s supplies for him. “Time to go!”

Tiny dipped his head. “It was good to see you, Rosetail. Be well.”

Rosetail mirrored the movement. “And you, Palecloud. I hope we see each other at the next Gathering!”

Tiny turned, approaching Barkface. “Where to next?” he asked.

“RiverClan,” Barkface said. “Spottedleaf’s low on extras, but she said she’d grab some celandine next time she’s out and bring me some. I’d like to see if Mudfur has those extras I need.”

Tiny nodded. “RiverClan it is, then. Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

The violent thrum of the river assaulted Tiny’s ears. It roared, louder than he remembered, as the patrol neared the falls.

Last night was so chaotic, so harsh on his senses, he barely recalled the sound of the crashing water. But here it was, slamming into the rocks below and foaming up hard enough to splash at his paws as he crossed the wooden bridge, watching the snaking body of the river leading down from the hills, cutting deep through the cliffs of the gorge and through the territory, marking an unwavering end to the forest with its cascading waters. And though the flow slowed closer to the heart of RiverClan, it still commanded the respect of all, as fluid and flexible as an adder, yet twice as deadly. No fangs to bite, no venom to seep into the blood, but a danger that couldn’t be tamed. You couldn’t work against the river. Either avoid it, like WindClan, or harness it, like RiverClan. And though the two clans shared a border, most of it was taken up by that deep gash in the earth. Not a border easy to cross accidentally while not paying attention. And even if you did, the consequences would be too swift to spark controversy. Perhaps why the two clans were so peaceful.

In recent times, anyway, as Tallstar had recalled the story of Reedfeather to him.

Though this protection, this semi-permeable wall, was no reason to be lax. This soon became evident, as Barkface led the charge, with Darkfoot carrying his supplies, up to the end of the bridge, and face-to-face with two cats.

It seems the chokepoint was an efficient spot to station guards.

Two cats sat sentry on the RiverClan side, one to the left of the bridge and one to the right. One, a large brown tom, stepped up to meet Barkface’s approach, and though his body was stiff, ready to guard his territory, his face was lax.

“Barkface!” he called cheerfully, his short whiskers twitching in a smile. “What brings WindClan down to our corner, eh?”

Barkface gave a contented smile back. “Good morning, Loudbelly,” he said, motioning for Darkfoot to step up. “I’m in need of some herbs. I’m prepared for a trade, if you’d prefer.”

The other cat, a dusky ginger molly, perked her ears at this. “Oh? What kind of a trade?”

“Kitting herbs,”  Barkface explained. “Mudfur had told me he needed some at the half-moon meeting. So, I’ve come with a delivery, and could use his help, as well.”

The molly nodded, looking almost relieved. “Well, come on in, then,” she said with a smile. “I’ll escort you so no one else gives you trouble.”

“You don’t have to,” Barkface offered, even as she rose to her paws. “I know where the camp is, we can handle ourselves.”

Loudbelly shook his head. “I’d take the escort,” he said. “Last night’s storm swelled the river. Emberdawn can get you around the flooding. Besides, it’s about time to change guard anyway.” He nodded to Emberdawn. “Send someone my way when you get back to camp, alright?”

Emberdawn returned the nod. “Will do.”

Barkface chuckled. “If you insist, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

Tiny followed a short distance behind as Emberdawn led the three through the RiverClan territory, occasionally warning them about unstable ground where floodwaters had weakened the foundation of the earth in spots, and though most of the damage was near the river, it certainly didn’t stop as they made their way to the RiverClan camp.

But even as they approached, Tiny’s attention stayed fixed on the twolegplace in the distance and his mind began to wander again.

What had happened to Pine, in the end? One day he was there, sitting on the fence and badgering Tiny as he usually did. The next day, he was gone. Sickness, everyone had said. It happened sometimes. An illness, not contagious but still pervasive, that ate through a cat from the inside, taking their senses and ability to live a normal life, causing great pain until one day fading off with a sputter. Twolegs often caught it early, though, and had a tendency to take the sick cats away before it worsened.

The rumor was that this happened to Pine. But now, hearing about his siblings from Rosetail, he wondered if the other story was true. Not gossiped between housecats, but whispered between those living in the alleys, the cats that weren’t quite wild, but belonged to no housefolk. Their story, a more grizzly one, now swirled in Tiny’s head as an unasked question.

The strays said he was murdered. That a cat from the woods had tracked him down, killed him, all for some kind of sick revenge.

Wild cats. Savages. Feral and untamable.

Tiny knew now that they were civilized and organized. But that story, of revenge and hatred, of political turmoil…it weighed on his mind.

And Thistleclaw. Caught up in this deadly feud, his death used as little more than a statement, a declaration of war.

Perhaps he was over exaggerating his own pain. He hadn’t been targeted as a vendetta, or to end a truce, hadn’t lost his loved ones in a battle with respiratory failure, had his family culled down to a lone survivor by a war spanning generations. The thing that kept him up at night was an act of random violence, one he had walked away from with only a chip in the ear and an eye twitch. He hadn’t lost vision like Rusty, or severed a tendon like Webkit. He had one fight, and though it was a perilous one, it wasn’t nearly the end of the world, for anyone. The cats involved were either dead or had grown. Even Tigerclaw seemed to no longer be the violent youth he once was, instead putting his passion into work, protection, service.

Just like Tiny, come to think of it. Perhaps they weren’t so different.

Tigerclaw had grown.

Tiny should do the same.

He wasn’t a sniveling little kitten, anymore. He was a WindClan cat. Not a warrior, yet, but becoming one. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life crying over something that happened so long ago. The more he prodded the wound, the slower it would heal. He had to let it go. Others had it worse, after all. Mountains and molehills, and all that.

Grow up.

Easier said than done.

“Welcome to RiverClan!” Emberdawn announced, leading the group through the dense reed cover that surrounded their camp. Shallow water surrounded the camp, encircling it, and crossing through at points, though it was clearly flooded, like Emberdawn mentioned. Dens decorated with bright shells and rocks woven from reeds held cats, many cats, all sleek and shining, with well-kept bellies and perfectly groomed fur.

Emberdawn cast them a nod, then split from the group, immediately flagging down a pale brown tabby with chipped ears and asking about taking her place. A snicker told Tiny the answer was no. Emberdawn cast her a look, then sighed and turned off to melt in with the crowd.

A thick blue cat and a tortoiseshell threw fish on the fresh-kill pile, their whiskers still wet, turning to banter with a black cat with yellow eyes. A red-brown tabby approached, inspecting the new catch, and offering praise to the hunters. Two gray cats sat nearby, under the shade of the willow that hung overhead, sharing a good catch over pleasant conversation. A dark brown cat with white paws bounced happily alongside a gray tabby cat, cheerfully carrying a fish over towards-

There! That ring-spotted tabby! What was her name? Leopardfur, that was it. Easier to remember while looking at her. She looked well, seemingly just returned from a patrol, sitting down and dismissing a brown and white tabby with a flick of her tail. Her face, which seemed to default to a stoic and unimpressed look, lightened as she saw the apprentice approaching, carrying that fish with pride. The darker cat sat down beside her, dropping the fish at her paws, as the gray one swapped a few quick notes with her before bidding her a good day and walking off.

“Go on,” said Barkface.

Tiny blinked. “I didn’t even ask, this time,” he noted.

Barkface shrugged. “Go, make friends. Just don’t wander off too far.”

Tiny nodded, turning and making his way towards where Leopardfur sat, listening intently to the dark tabby beside her, a loving smile on her face.

“I think I’m getting better at fishing!” he said, proudly gazing at his catch. “I mean, I got lucky with this one, I think. But still! I’m doing it!”

Leopardfur’s smile grew a little wider. “You’re learning fast. I’m going to run out of things to teach you!”

Her smile dropped, less out of discontent and more to change the subject, noticing Tiny’s approach. Her whiskers twitched. “Palecloud? What are you doing in RiverClan?”

Tiny smiled with a little chuckle. “Good morning to you too, Leopardfur. I’m here on business. Important medicine cat business.”

Leopardfur cocked her head, a more amused smile on her face this time. “I didn’t know Barkface had taken on an apprentice,” she said, only somewhat jokingly. “He likes his solo work.”

“He hasn’t,” Tiny explained. “I’m acting as escort. He wanted to talk to Mudfur, deliver some herbs, ask for advice. I’m just here to keep the Thunderheads out of his fur.”

“Ah,” said Leopardfur. “Well, it’s certainly good to see you. We didn’t get to talk last time. How are you?”

Tiny shrugged. “Doing well enough. Keeping busy, at least. And you?”

“Same old, same old.” She paused, then turned to the tabby, flicking her tail towards Tiny. “This is Palecloud,” she said, her voice soft. “He’s a WindClan warrior. I met him at the last Gathering. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The tabby blinked, then turned to Tiny, shrinking down a little into his fur. His amber eyes wide, he flashed a shy smile. “Hi,” he mumbled. “I’m…uh…Whitepaw.”

Tiny smiled back. He was clearly young. “Nice to meet you,” he said, dipping his head. He cast a glance down at the fish laying before them. It was big, bigger than those he had seen before, although most of his experience came from the ones Shnuky’s twolegs kept. Still, even with his limited knowledge, he could tell it was a good catch, about the size of a blackbird. He motioned to it with his tail. “Did you catch that?” he asked. It was usually a good conversation starter with younger ones, asking about their abilities and accomplishments. He found it got shy ones talking rather quickly.

Sure enough, Whitepaw’s tension lessened a little. He nodded, still a little unsure, but now with a small smile creeping through. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I mean, Frogleap helped me. But I caught it.”

“Still better than me,” Tiny said. “I couldn’t catch a fish to save my life. Is it hard?” Simple questions. Ones about things the little ones were interested in. Just to get them rolling.

Whitepaw looked to his paws, his claws twitching in and out, not with aggression but just to fidget. “Kinda. There’s a lot to it. I’ve been practicing.”

“What kind is it?”

“A perch.” Whitepaw’s eyes were starting to drift back up. “They’re not super big. But this is a bigger one.”

Tiny nodded. “Are you enjoying training?”

Whitepaw shrugged. “It’s fine. There’s good parts and bad parts. I wish I didn’t have to do nest duties.”

Tiny chuckled. “Well, nobody likes it. What do you like, though? Hunting, battle moves?”

“Hunting’s better,” Whitepaw said, a little more confidence in his voice. “I can’t hunt land prey, though. It’s tricky.”

“Fishing sounds tricky, too,” Tiny noted. “The real pain is the air prey. If only cats could fly, we’d take over the whole world, I swear.”

Whitepaw’s laugh was small, but genuine. Tiny cheered a little inside. Getting the apprentice out of his shell fully would be a task spanning a few visits, but a good first impression was always worth the time.

Leopardfur gave him a curious look, though still smiling playfully. “You seem like an expert at this,” she said with a purr. “Must have had lots of practice with younger cats.”

“Plenty,” Tiny said. “My siblings, and my friends’ kits. They’re easier to talk to, honestly.”

“Wish I could do that,” she said, then gave a small but sad chuckle. “I’ve never been great at…parenting, I guess.”

“It’s a skill. One you have to practice at to get better. It comes more naturally to some, but it’s not a talent.”

“Like fishing?” Whitepaw asked.

Tiny nodded. “Just like fishing. Practice always makes the cat.”

Whitepaw smiled a little brighter, proud he got something right.

“Who’s your mentor, by the way?” Tiny asked.

“I am,” Leopardfur said, reaching a paw up to ruffle the fur on Whitepaw’s head. “A bit of a goof, this one. But he’s a smart kit.”

Whitepaw laughed, giving her a playful shove and backing away from the affection. “Mama, cmon! I just washed up!”

“Oh?” Leopardfur’s ears swiveled as she lunged forward, wrapping her paws around him in a soft grapple. “So I shouldn’t do…this?” As she spoke, she shoved him down, rolling him over and ruffling his fur even more.

Whitepaw started laughing, louder this time, trying in vain to push her away. “Noooo!” he whined through his giggling. “I’m ticklish! Come on!”

Tiny shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“Well, what have we here?”

That voice, a familiar boom in his ears. Tiny turned, his eyes landing on a light brown tabby. It was hard to tell due to his offset jaw, but he seemed to be smiling.

“Crookedstar!” Whitepaw called out, wriggling his way out of Leopardfur’s grasp.

Leopardfur blinked, turning up to look at her leader. “Visitors, from WindClan,” she said, standing up to greet him. Even as tall as she was - or maybe just looked, due to her build - her eyes still landed level with his shoulder. “This is Palecloud.”

Crookedstar turned to Tiny, putting in extra effort to flash a kind face. “Well met!” he said. “I’ve heard of you, you know. Word spreads fast. You’re Tallstar’s, aren’t you?”

Tiny nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, mustering as much decorum as he could. “Barkface wanted to meet with Mudfur, to exchange herbs. I figured I’d say hi to Leopardfur while I’m here. I…hope that’s not a problem.”

Crookedstar shook his head. “No worries. How is WindClan holding up?”

Tiny paused. Should he say? He decided it wouldn’t stay a secret for long, though maybe he ought not reveal everything.

“We…had a scare, last night,” he admitted. “A few kits snuck out of camp in the storm, and ended up hurt. They’re fine, they’ll recover, but it’s shaken us up, a little. We’re here to get some herbs to help.”

Leopardfur blinked. “You didn’t mention that.”

Tiny paused. “I…wasn’t sure I should.”

Crookedstar nodded, something sad in his gaze. “I’m glad to hear they’re alright,” he said. “Could have turned nasty, with that fox around.”

Tiny sighed. “ThunderClan found them in time, thank the stars.”

Leopardfur’s face soured at this. “ThunderClan?” she echoed. “What were they doing on your territory? You don’t even share a border with them.”

“They heard the scuffle,” Tiny explained, taking note of the fur on the back of her neck starting to rise. “An apprentice took the initiative. Saved my brother’s life, actually.”

Crookedstar turned to Leopardfur, the golden cat now bristling at the mention of the rival clan. “I think you’d find it hard to blame them, had a noble ShadowClan apprentice done the same for your son, Leopardfur. In the end, safety of our clans’ youth comes before borders or alliances, doesn’t it?”

Leopardfur gave a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl, grumbling something to herself before taking her place on the ground with Whitepaw. She took a large bite of the perch, desperate to sink her teeth into something, and hoping to keep herself from saying something stupid.

Crookedstar sighed. “My apologies, Palecloud. She’s been having a rough time lately. A few of her close friends were…lost in battle, recently. It’s been tense for all of us.”

Tiny nodded. “I understand, don’t worry. Things are tense in WindClan, as well.”

“Ah, yes, the ShadowClan issue. How have things been on that front since your joining?”

“Quiet enough. A few border arguments, a couple nicked ears, but nothing major. Thank StarClan.”

“They’re preparing for a larger attack,” Leopardfur mumbled through a mouthful of fish.

Tiny blinked. “Pardon?”

“They’re waiting until you let your guard down,” she continued. “Then they strike. It’s how they do it. They know you don’t have the numbers to recover as well as they can.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Tiny grumbled.

Crookedstar paused, turning away with an unreadable glint in his eyes. “Truth be told, I wish we could help,” he said, his voice falling quieter and more somber. “But my resources are stretched thin enough. Everyone’s already got their minds on Sunningrocks. We can’t have another war on our paws.”

The question nearly made Tiny sick with a desire to ask. He couldn’t let it stay. “I’m…sorry if this sounds rude,” he began. “I truly don’t mean to…insinuate anything. But why don’t you give the territory up?”

Crookedstar blinked, clearly seeing something a little tactless in the question, but letting it go for the sake of answering a genuine curiosity. “It’s a principle. We’ve had that territory for generations. Since the founding of our clan. It belongs to us.” He sighed. “Truth be told, things were better during the truce. Or, at least, they could have been. Bluestar and I were friends, once. She only became leader relatively recently, last newleaf. The first thing she did was come here and negotiate the territory as neutral ground. Since we don’t hunt land prey and they don’t fish, it was easy enough. But our warriors didn’t see it that way. They saw it as a weakness.” He flicked his tail, turning back to Leopardfur. “Well, not all of them.”

Leopardfur nodded. “It was only a season of peace. But we could have made it work.” She huffed, turning back to the half-eaten fish at her paws. “If only ThunderClan listened.”

Tiny blinked. Wasn't RiverClan the one that threw the first blow? With Thistleclaw’s death, the fragile truce was broken.

“Palecloud!”

Barkface! His time was up. But he was just getting somewhere!

Crookedstar dipped his head to Tiny. “Well, it was good to meet you, Palecloud. I’m sorry our meeting had to get so…political.”

Tiny nodded, hoping his anxiety didn’t show. “Likewise. Hopefully we can next meet in times of peace.”

Crookedstar chuckled. “StarClan willing. Safe travels, young warrior.”

Whitepaw perked his ears up. “Bye, Palecloud!” he called, raising his voice just enough to sound genuine. 

Tiny smiled back at him. “Bye, Whitepaw! Good luck with your training!” With that, he turned, making his way back toward Barkface, still speaking with a cat he assumed to be Mudfur, as well as a heavily pregnant tortoiseshell Tiny hadn’t seen before. The medicine cats seemed to be instructing her, easing worries and directing her on how to handle her challenges. She welcomed the advice, seemingly calmed by the idea that she was supported by not only her own clan, but another as well. Darkfoot sat nearby, speaking with Emberdawn, swapping complaints back and forth. Complaining seemed to be his idea of bonding, Tiny figured.

“Palecloud.”

Leopardfur cut in front of him, her eyes burning with something serious.

Tiny flinched. “Oh, uh…sorry, did I forget to say goodbye?”

Her face lightened a little. “You did. But that’s not what I’m here for.”

Tiny bit his tongue. “What’s wrong? Seems serious.”

She shook her head. “Not here,” she murmured, almost a whisper. “Meet me at Fourtrees at moonhigh tonight. I have to talk to you about something. Tell no cat, especially not Tallstar. It’s vital.”

A secret meeting? Vital? What was this about?

Tiny paused. The war. Sunningrocks. ThunderClan.

Thistleclaw.

He nodded solemnly. “Alright,” he said, keeping his own voice low. “I’ll be there.”

Slipping out of camp was the easy part.

The nursery being near empty, now just with Flytail keeping Sorrelshine’s nest warm, it was simple enough to come up with an easy excuse to be out so late.

He’d need a good one to get past Ashfoot’s watchful eye, standing guard at the camp entrance.

“Where you going?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.

Tiny did his best to look unwell. “A walk,” he mumbled. “Can’t sleep again. I’m going hunting, get my mind off things. Might wear me out, too.”

Ashfoot nodded. “Steer clear of the ShadowClan border,” she warned. “They’ve been moving the scent line again.”

Tiny gave a small grumble of agreement, slinking out of the gorse tunnel and into the wide open air of the moors.

The tricky part would be Rushtail.

He had asked Morningflower out, like he said he would. They were out there, somewhere on the territory, watching the stars and talking about their feelings. And though Tiny sincerely hoped it was going well, it made navigation a little tedious, thinking about the two frolicking across the moors or laying below the grass line on their backs. His dark pelt blended well enough into the shadows, but if they caught a glimpse of him, it would be an interrogation.

Rushtail was just starting to trust him. He couldn’t break that trust.

But so was Leopardfur.

If he was caught, he may have to choose.

Luckily, he didn’t have to. As he spotted Rushtail crashing through the heather, loudly laughing and falling to the ground as Morningflower pounced on him, teasing and laughing along. Tiny shuddered, thinking of the ultra-cutesy things they must be doing.

He never understood the appeal. It was like friendship plus, right? What was the sense in all the wild romance?

Still, he was happy for them.

He eventually made his way down the territory, letting gravity pull him down the slope towards Fourtrees, his paws scrambling to catch up. Not the most dignified entrance, but he made it in time, it seemed, his eyes catching on a glint of gold in the light of the waning moon.

Leopardfur turned to him, eyes gleaming. “You actually came.”

He nodded. “Of course,” he said, trotting up to her, keeping his voice low almost instinctively. “You sounded serious.”

“I am,” she said, her own voice hushed.

“I have to assume this is about ThunderClan.”

She nodded. “I’ll just get to the point, then. You’ve heard of Thistleclaw?”

Tiny huffed. “A little too much, lately.”

“Then you’ll know what happened.”

He shrugged. “Vaguely. Rosetail told me. She said he was killed by a RiverClan patrol, and that broke the truce.”

Leopardfur rolled her eyes. “Ah yes. Rosetail. Figures she’d tell you her side of the story.”

Tiny cocked his head. “Her side? What’s the RiverClan side?”

“I don’t believe a lick of it,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits of amber hate. “We didn’t kill Thistleclaw. RiverClan didn’t wake up one day and decide to end the truce, make an example out of him or something.”

Tiny blinked. “But…he didn’t just drop dead.”

“Of course not! Someone killed him. Someone made an example out of him. RiverClan didn’t. It may have been a RiverClan cat, but it wasn’t all of us, like they say.”

Something clicked in his head. “You want to know who did it.”

She nodded. “If I can find who did it, there may be a chance to fix things.”

“But…why? Don’t you want the territory?”

Leopardfur paused, an uneasy waver in her gaze. “That cat didn’t just take territory from us. They took lives. Good cats.” She swallowed, trying to choke down something hard. “Always the good ones.”

“That’s right, Crookedstar mentioned. You lost some friends, didn’t you?”

“Not just friends!” she hissed, her eyes now burning less with hate, and more with pain, tears beginning to shimmer at the waterline. “Whitefang was bad enough. A friend, a teacher, a cat who helped me through the roughest times. And they killed him, for the sake of ThunderClan stealing our rightful territory! Before my own eyes, I saw him. Lionheart. They call him noble, a valiant cat, worthy of all praise. Maybe deputy someday. Maybe if he kills enough RiverClan warriors with good futures and loving families, maybe they’ll make him leader.”

She swallowed again, closing her eyes and letting those tears finally fall. “And Sunfish,” she muttered. “They had to take her. They...I can’t forgive them. For her alone.”

“She was special to you?”

“I think…” She paused, taking a breath and trying to compose herself, not to stop the tears, but to ready her heart for words she hadn’t allowed herself to say. “I think I loved her. More than a friend. But she had a mate, kits, a happy life. I couldn’t ruin that. She would never have felt the same, and her friendship was too important to me. So I didn’t tell her.” Her face pulled back as she began to sob. “And now I never can.”

It seemed odd, to Tiny, though he couldn’t quite understand why. His fathers were both toms, weren’t they? Two mollies wasn’t anything different. But as his mind churned, he realized it was the sentiment he couldn’t relate to. The romantic side. Maybe just having never felt it before? But how would he feel, he had to think, if something happened to a family member? If Rusty-

His stomach felt queasy at the thought.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly. “It must be hard.”

Leopardfur took a deep breath again, this time trying to stop herself from crying. “That’s why I have to do this,” she growled, her voice still thick with emotion. “Whoever killed Thistleclaw also killed Sunfish. I don’t care about him, or about the truce. Not anymore. Whatever clan, whoever did it, will fall to my claws. Maybe then I can rest. Maybe she can, as well.”

Tiny’s own words seemed to echo from the RiverClan warrior. It was revenge, again. Like him, like Tallstar, like Mapleshade. She wasn’t the first, and wouldn’t be the last, to ache for their claws in the flesh of those who hurt them.

And yet, it was for a good cause.

Wasn’t it?

To end the war, end the bloodshed. Perhaps, then, RiverClan could find the resources to fight ShadowClan. Or ThunderClan could help, pressing both borders. If Thistleclaw’s killer was exposed, it could be shown that neither side wanted the war. That it was a problem with one cat tipping the balance. Maybe then, they could broach a truce again, or decide in a time of peace who owned what. Tensions were high. Too high. If he could show who pulled it so taught, maybe he could set things straight again.

“You need this, too.” Leopardfur glared up at him as she spoke. “This has to end somewhere. And I’m taking matters into my own paws. Whether or not you join me is your choice. But you know it’s right.”

Tiny wasn’t sure it was.

And still, he nodded.

“I’m in.”

Chapter Text

No one realized it then, but that day would be the last dry one for the entire moon.

The crack of dawn the next morning was heralded by more rain. Softer than the storm before, no thunder or lightning or nightmarish winds, not even enough for the flash flood everyone had worried about. But still enough to coat all of WindClan territory, above and below, in a thick layer of mud.

Running was hard in this weather. As was tunneling. But things still had to get done. The fresh-kill pile still needed topping off, even when it was hidden beneath the earth, kept dry by the rocks that sheltered it. But prey was scarce in the rain. Birds didn’t make as many trips, and rabbits were almost never seen outside their burrows for fear of getting drenched.

To be honest, the weather wasn’t so bad for Tiny.

That storm was a violent torrent seemingly sent by an angry deity to punish a sinning populace. Even WindClan’s bravest and most hardened warriors wouldn’t have been caught dead out there, if not for the scare of the kits.

But the lighter rain was fine. Unlike some of his fluffier companions, the rain seemed to slide right off his thin pelt. If anything, it made him even faster. So he, along with a few others, had been taking on those smaller daily tasks, even in the rain. With his scent so new to the clans, he couldn’t mark the border properly, but he could hunt with the best of them, even as the rain kept falling.

The clouds had to dry up, sometime.

Not any time soon, it seemed. The first day was fine enough. But the second, the third, the fourth…it was starting to weigh on everyone. Even as it faded between harsh downpours and light sprinkling mists, it still rained. The dirt of the WindClan camp, packed tightly by countless generations of pawsteps, was coming loose, tracking mud everywhere, making the ground slick even within the camp walls.

When Tiny wasn’t out hunting what he could, he sat in the medicine den, talking with Rusty and Webkit as they healed up. Runningkit’s small scratches healed within a day or two, and she was quickly shuffled back to the nursery to let the others rest without her constant whining and blaming the toms for everything that went wrong with her perfect plan.

Everyone was pretty sick of her. Even Flytail was starting to get short with her.

But even though Tiny slept in the nursery most nights, he spent the quiet moments of his day in the medicine den with Rusty. Talking about the events of the day, dreaming about the day when they would all be warriors…it helped take their minds off what was bothering them.

Webkit’s leg was the first issue. He had torn it bad while running away from the fox. Barkface had him doing exercises to keep his muscles from getting too stagnant, to keep up his strength. But he couldn’t push it too far, else he might hurt himself again, and would never heal properly. It was a delicate balance, and Barkface liked to err on the side of caution. But whenever Tiny was in the den, Webkit would do small things, stretches to keep it moving. It seemed to be helping, though there was seemingly something in his leg that just wouldn’t set right. His leg was strong, yes, but a muscle or tendon out of place somewhere prevented him from using it properly.

Barkface assured him it would heal in time. The worst that would happen is a wonky shoulder, giving him an odd wobble in his stride. But it was still usable.

The same couldn’t be said for Rusty’s eye. Barkface had managed to keep it from getting infected, no small miracle given the circumstances. But the eye was a delicate thing. Whether or not he managed to save the eye itself, it would never heal enough to see out of. Not just a cataract, but a fully blinded eye.

All things considered, Rusty was taking it well.

“We’ll still be warriors,” he always said.

It warmed Tiny’s heart. After everything, after all the trouble, he was still so sure he wanted to be a warrior. Now more than ever.

The two brave little kits were fast asleep when the gorse tunnel rustled on the third day.

Tiny looked up to see a familiar face.

“Spottedleaf!” he said, beaming. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

Spottedleaf smiled back through a bundle of herbs, but something in her eyes was different.

She was tired. Not from the walk, but like she hadn’t slept in days.

“Likewise,” she said, putting down her herbs at her paws. The rain had let up enough to make the travel possible without soaking through her pelt, but the mud still clung to every hair on her paws. She sighed. “Good to see a friendly face. Not too many of those on either border, I’m afraid.”

Tiny nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you when I was in camp. I got caught up with Redtail and Rosetail.”

“It’s fine,” she said with a laugh. “I was too busy to talk, anyway.”

“Hey,” came a voice Tiny didn’t recognize. Though turning to its source, he saw a face he did. Soft gray fur with a speckled tabby pattern, a freshly chipped ear and green eyes, and a warm - if curious - smile. “I know you, don’t I? You were there when we found Rusty, right? Part of the patrol to pick him up?”

Tiny smiled. That’s where he had seen her! “Palecloud. Rusty’s brother. You’re…” he paused a second as the name came to him. Rusty had said it a thousand times, talking about how pretty she was. She just looked like another cat to Tiny.

The name clicked. “Brindleface! Right?”

The molly giggled a little. “Sure am! Nice to get to properly meet you. How’s the little scamp holding up?”

Tiny hesitated. “He’s recovering as well as he can,” he started. “His eye is…not healing. But his heart is. And that’s the important part.”

Brindleface seemed to lighten at this. “Good to hear. He was so scared when Spotty told him, I was worried he wouldn’t—“

“Who’s this?”

Tiny recognized the new cat in a heartbeat. A nearly black tabby tom, his face and pelt angular and sharp.

Darkstripe.

Brindleface’s expression was hard to read as he approached, but Spottedleaf’s turned sour fast. “Darkstripe, this is Palecloud. He’s a friend.”

Tiny nodded. “We met before, once. How have you been?”

If Brindleface’s expression was difficult, Darkstripe’s was unreadable. His yellow eyes scanned Tiny, like sizing up an opponent before battle. Skepticism laced every movement of his body as he glared right through him.

Tiny held fast. He wasn’t about to be intimidated by a hard look.

It seemed as though Darkstripe deemed him not to be a threat, as he quickly turned to Brindleface. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “This isn’t a Gathering. We’re not here to make friends.”

Brindleface bit her tongue. “I-I was just asking how Rusty was doing…”

“We are here to deliver the medicine and leave.” His tail was beginning to lash. “Is that so hard to understand?” He scoffed. “Frankly, I don’t understand the point in this, anyway. ThunderClan needs the medicine more, right now.”

Spottedleaf shot him a look. “It’s not for greencough. Herbs aren’t just a quantity, you know. These ones specifically are for damaged eyes. I have no use for these ones, at the moment. And WindClan needs them to help Rusty.” She huffed. “Why is helping others so alien to you?”

“He’s not even WindClan,” he retorted, turning to match her gaze. “What kind of a name is that for a clan kit? Besides, they said he was an outsider. At best, he’s the offspring of some random loner that Tallstar had a fling with. At worst, he’s a kittypet. And yet you ask me to walk all the way out here for his sake?”

“No one asked you to come,” Spottedleaf said, rolling her eyes. “You invited yourself.”

“And I’m glad I did!” he spat. “If I hadn’t, you’d be out here all day, in the rain for StarClan’s sake, letting my mate talk to another tom I’ve never even met before!”

And there it was. The factor that changed the situation. Brindleface was his mate.

Tiny pulled his tail over his paws. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he started.

Darkstripe shot him a look. “Not sorry enough not to do it, it seems,” he growled. “Whiskers in your own nest, understood?”

Tiny narrowed his eyes, puffing out his chest a little. “I happen to have heard something about greencough. Is that right?”

Darkstripe’s gaze didn’t waver. “What did I just say?”

But Spottedleaf pushed ahead of him. “Yes, that’s right. We had a bad scare last leaf-bare. Lost some good cats. And now that my stores are all depleted, it’s back. And with a vengeance. I told Darkstripe he needed to stay in camp and help out, since healthy cats are few and far between, these days. But he insisted that if I took Brindleface, I had to take him, too.” She sighed. “Right pain in the tail,” she added, muttering to herself just loud enough for both Darkstripe and Tiny to hear.

Tiny gave a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to hear about it,” he said, trying his best to ignore Darkstripe’s ever-narrowing glare. “Any way we could help?”

Spottedleaf paused, thinking for a second. But it was Darkstripe who answered for her.

“We don’t need your charity,” he barked. “Come on. Let’s go. We did what we came for. Now let’s get out of this weather, already!”

Without waiting, as if he was in charge, he turned and started out the entrance to the WindClan camp, only stopping to look back when it was clear the others weren’t following him.

Brindleface flinched. “Er, well, it was…nice to see you again, Palecloud,” she said hurriedly. “Tell Rusty I said hi and…hope to see him again.”

Tiny nodded. “Tell Longtail I said the same.”

With that, Brindleface turned to make her way with Darkstripe.

Spottedleaf paused, still thinking. When she did move, it was towards Tiny.

“Let’s make this quick,” she hissed, speaking fast enough that her words blurred together. “Were you a kittypet before you came here?”

Tiny blinked, a little taken aback. “I…was, yes. Why?”

“You might be able to help. I need an herb that grows in twolegplace. Catmint. Catnip, as kittypets call it. It grows in small patches in ThunderClan, but it’s most common in twoleg gardens. Darkstripe and the others in his little… posse won’t let me go to twolegplace anymore, but my usual spot is-”

“Spottedleaf!” Darkstripe yowled from across the camp. “We’re leaving, with or without you!”

“Let me ask a question, for StarClan’s sake!” she snapped back.

The fur on the back of Tiny’s neck stood on end, and his tail bristled. She certainly had some authority in her voice.

She cleared her throat, turning back. “Look, it’s got purple flowers, and feathery leaves, and--”

“I know it,” Tiny cut in, speeding through it himself. “I’ll get you some.”

Spottedleaf sighed. “You’re a lifesaver, Palecloud,” she said. With a nod, she turned around to follow her escort, seeing Darkstripe keeping his word and pushing through the gorse tunnel. “Stay safe!” she called back over her shoulder.

He beamed. “You too!”

“Catmint?”

Barkface was more than a little thrown off by the question. “What do you need it for? It’s not just for you to roll around in, is it? It’s an important herb around here.”

“I know,” said Tiny, watching as Barkface integrated the celandine into his herb stores. “Spottedleaf needs it. They’re dealing with an outbreak. And a shortage, for good measure.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m not sure how much I can help,” Barkface admitted. “If they’re dealing with greencough over there, I’ll need to keep a stock here in case it spreads.”

Tiny nodded. “Wise. But maybe there’s an alternative? It can’t be the only cure to something everyone has talked about so much.”

“There are other options, but none as potent.” Barkface paused. “I may be able to get away with tansy as a preventative, since we’re all in good condition, so far.” He shook his head. “I find it hard to believe the entire twolegplace is out of catmint, though. But without it, she’d be having to make do with the chickweed from Sunningrocks. Less than ideal on all sides.”

“They won’t let her go,” Tiny explained. “When we went, they were cracking down on outsiders, right? Seems they’re taking the same rhetoric to all of twolegplace.”

Barkface nodded. “That explains it. Well, at least we know it’s not a supply issue. If it was that scarce during an outbreak, I’d be a little more hesitant to help. Not completely against it, mind. But…”

“I get it. Things could get rough, if we’re not careful. You’ve got your paws full already.”

Barkface shrugged. “Between you keeping them company, and Lilywhisker helping me with the herbs, I’m not doing too bad. I suppose I could lend out one of my helpers for a ThunderClan mission.”

“Thanks,” said Tiny. “But I’d rather you come with. You’ve got the immunity, you can cross the border without trouble. Right?”

Barkface bobbed his head, thinking on this a second. “True. But if there is greencough, I’d like to get things here in order. Besides, the celandine is best when it’s fresh. I’ll have to be here when Rusty wakes up to administer it.” He paused again. “As far as I see it, you’ve got two options. First, take the tunnels. They’ll get you past the border without trouble, and I do believe there’s one that goes that far. It’s a dark and muddy walk, though. And you’d need a tunneler for an escort. I don’t need anyone getting drenched in the floodbreaks again. Tornear is bad enough when he does it.”

Tiny blinked. “The other option?”

“There’s another twolegplace, closer by. Just past our outer border. You know where the barn is, right?”

Tiny nodded. “The one with the dogs? I’d rather risk the tunnels.”

Barkface shook his head, chuckling slightly. “Don’t blame you a lick. But no, it’s past there. You shouldn’t have to deal with the dogs at all. Or ThunderClan, for that matter.”

Tiny thought for a second. “It may be safer. But I’ve never been. The whole reason Spottedleaf asked me was so I could use my knowledge. I know the one by ThunderClan like my own paws, but I’ve never even heard about this one.”

Barkface shrugged. “Your call. I’d recommend a friend either way.”

Friend. Did he have any of those, really? He and Flytail got along pretty well, though he didn’t know if he would consider him a friend, per se. A better call was Oatwhisker. Though neither would be particularly helpful in the tunnels.

The real question was, who could make the journey?

He was getting closer with Darkfoot as a friend, though he may not be up for walking all that way again after they had just finished up a trek to ThunderClan. Tornear was a good builder, but had the directional sense of an airborne mole. Mudclaw would do it no question, but wasn’t much of a companion. Argumentative and harsh, he may object to helping ThunderClan altogether. Though he did seem grateful to Longtail and Brindleface.

A definite ‘no’ was Crowfur. Rushtail wasn’t kidding when he called exceeding Crowfur the ‘bare minimum’. He’d never agree to it, anyway. Tiny could hear his argument now. “It’s best to keep the other clans weaker, in case they get any ideas. Besides, it may spread to ShadowClan. Then we’d be in real luck!”

Ugh. Insufferable.

Ashfoot…maybe. She was enamored with the tunnels, and a good soul. It would definitely turn the trip into a lesson on tunneling techniques, though. Like she was trying to pitch them to an unsympathetic leader.

Morningflower would spend the whole trip talking about Rushtail. Tiny could gag at the thought.

Sorrelshine was, for all intents and purposes, a tunneler. Just one on maternity leave, with two unruly little kittens and one cloud of anxiety to keep track of. She may need the walk. Then again, she was probably sick of Tiny by now.

And Bristlebark…quiet, reserved. It would be a walk and little else. A walk in the dark, dank, muddy, tight quarters of the tunnels with nothing but his own thoughts and the steady sloshing of pawsteps to keep him company.

Darkfoot it was, then.

Slipping out of the medicine den and bracing himself for the pelting of rain, his eyes scanned the camp. Onewhisker and Rabbitear had just gotten back from hunting, each with a decent sized bird in their jaws. Morningflower and Ashfoot were sitting under the cover of the hawthorn tree, eating an undersized rat and talking, Morningflower grooming behind Ashfoot’s ear as her sister babbled on about something.

Pidgeonflight was trying his best to shelter in the tall grass, and having only mild success with it. Mudclaw and Tornear were nearby, working on patching up the apprentices’ den, making sure no troublesome kits managed to slip out of camp and into danger again. The temporary patch was fine, but Mudclaw, ever the perfectionist, knew he could do better.

Crowfur sat at the top of the hollow, getting as much height as he could within the camp and sitting up, glaring out at the world around him, grumbling to himself about the rain and yet making no effort to dry off.

And-

There! A flash of dark blue-gray, just coming back into camp. Judging by his mud-filled pelt, he must have just gotten out of the tunnels, looking slightly exhausted, pulling an equally worn-out Bristlebark with him.

Tiny frowned. He couldn’t ask either of them on that trip, now. They looked like they were about to collapse.

Still, he trotted towards them. “How’s the tunneling?” he asked, trying his best to look sympathetic.

Darkfoot’s exasperated groan told him everything.

Tiny grimaced. “That good, eh?”

“The emergency camp entrance collapsed,” Darkfoot explained. “We didn’t even have time to put in floodbreaks before the rain started gunking up everything. It’s a nightmare.”

“We may have to relocate it,” Bristlebark noted. “The ground is too loose near the falls.”

Tiny felt Crowfur’s judgemental gaze shift their way. “We need that camp!” he snapped. “Restarting the project now would set us back too far! ShadowClan is already starting to press the border, again! What if we need to use it?”

“It’s unusable right now, anyway,” Darkfoot pointed out. “It’s too low down. The way it is, it may as well be a floodbreak, itself.”

“Where would you even relocate?” Tiny asked. He hadn’t heard much about this project, but the location near the falls seemed to be their best bet. At least, from what Tiny knew.

“Closer to Fourtrees,” said Darkfoot. “That’s where we wanted to put it in the first place. But we were worried about the structural integrity of hollowing out the ground beneath the Gathering. The traffic alone would compromise it.”

Tiny blinked. “Could you do one below this camp?” he asked. “It would be quicker to get to in an emergency.”

Darkfoot shook his head. “Same problem. Too much traffic.”

“You could go closer to the barn,” Mudclaw suggested, brushing twigs out of his fur as he stepped in to join the conversation. “Build it higher in the hill so it doesn’t flood. You’d lose the central position, but the uphill angle may be an advantage itself.”

Tiny nodded. “It would be further from the borders, too,” he pointed out. “Better defensively. Central is good for attack, harder for defense. Too many variables at play.”

“But we’d need a good attack to make a comeback!” Crowfur pointed out. “If we’re using the emergency camp at all, it means something’s gone wrong. Wouldn’t you rather go out with a roar than a whimper?”

“That’s not what a camp is for,” Tiny returned. “We don’t need to be constantly attacking. A camp is a safe place, a good and defendable spot. Besides, if you want a good spot for attack, wouldn’t it be better to have the higher ground?”

Crowfur paused. “Fair point, I suppose,” he said, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t too keen on admitting someone else was right. “Still, I don’t like the idea of throwing out all our hard work for a new spot,” he added.

“The collapse is filling most of it in, anyway,” Bristlebark said. “We’d have to start pretty much from scratch at this point, either way.”

Mudfur nodded. “The big issue will be the clay. The soil doesn’t drain well at all. We’d need good flood protection.”

“If you build it into the hill, it won’t be that bad,” Ashfoot added, seemingly detecting a conversation about the tunnels and wanting nothing more than to add her expertise. “The soil is only clay-heavy towards the gorge. If you built it further into the hill, you’d get the benefits of a tighter soil than the Fourtrees area, but there’s still a lot of sand in that loam. Pack it well, and it’ll drain nicely.”

“The clay could be good for reinforcement,” Morningflower said, coming in behind Ashfoot. “It’s a sturdy build, with good grit. Not a lot of roots to get in your way, either.”

Darkfoot sighed. “Anything that gets me out of that ThunderClan earth. Peat, anything to get out from under it.”

Bristlebark nodded. “Sounds like we’ve got a plan, then. I’ll tell Tallstar and Deadfoot about it, see what they think.”

“Sounds good,” said Mudfur. “I can pitch in as soon as we get the go-ahead.”

Tiny blinked. All the tunnelers were here, together. He could just ask, see who wanted to.

He cleared his throat. “Slight tangent,” he started. “I could use an escort, if anyone’s willing?”

Ashfoot cocked her head. “What’s this about?”

“Twolegplace,” he explained. Best to keep things vague, for now. “The one by ThunderClan. Could anyone take me?”

“I could!” Tornear offered.

Tiny shot him a look, hoping it came off as more playful than judgemental. “Anyone who won’t get us lost, I mean?”

Tornear chuckled. “Ah, well. I rescind the offer.”

“I’ll take you,” Morningflower said. “Could use a walk, anyway.”

Tiny hoped nothing nasty showed on his face. Great, he thought. We can spend the whole trip having this conversation.

But even with his hesitation, he couldn’t refuse. Not with good reason, at least.

He nodded. “I’d appreciate it,” he said, trying as hard as he could to keep his face and voice neutral. Thank the stars his pelt was dark enough to hide these things.

Morningflower smiled sweetly. “Well, shall we go, then? Burning daylight, as they say.”

Mud, mud, mud.

Tiny was sure before that he didn’t want to be a tunneler. But if he needed any convincing, the last few whiskers worth of doubt suffocated in the muddy trek across the entire length of the clan territories.

His paws squished when he walked.

Awful.

At least Morningflower’s cheerful demeanor was helping distract him.

“So!” she started. “What’s the occasion?”

Tiny shrugged. “ThunderClan’s got greencough,” he said. “I’m here for catmint. And…” He paused, trying to look down at his paws below but finding them impossible to see in the darkness. “...I’d like to tell Papa what happened to Rusty, if I see him.”

Morningflower nodded, but said nothing, clearly unsure of how to continue.

They walked for a few painful heartbeats more before she spoke again, changing the subject. “Ashfoot and Darkfoot had a talk,” she said.

“Yeah?” Tiny asked, trying to sound more interested than he really was. “How’d that go?”

Morningflower chuckled. “Darkfoot’s a hare-brain, is how. They both are, if you ask me. But it’s endearing.”

Tiny blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Darkfoot asked if she’d like to be his mate,” she explained. “And Ashfoot said she thought they already were. For, like, a moon.”

Tiny snickered. “I told him,” he said. “He was so nervous about asking her. I told him to just do it. Thank StarClan he listened.”

“Ashfoot had been talking to me, too,” Morningflower continued. “It sounded like she was way, way further settled than he was. Already talking about kits.”

“Kits!” Tiny exclaimed. He shook his head. “The idea of them having kits after all that is…quite frankly, a little ridiculous.”

Morningflower shrugged. “If you’ve seen those two circle each other for as long as the rest of us, it’s quite frankly a little more ridiculous that they’re only starting the talk now.”

Tiny paused. Did he want to get this started?

He’d find out about this sometime, he supposed.

“How are you and Rushtail?” he asked. “You two seem…happy.”

“Oh, we are.” He couldn’t see her face, but could very well hear the smile in her voice. “He’s such a charmer, I tell you. So sweet, so doting. All I could have asked for, honestly.”

“Good to hear.”

She clearly detected something in his voice he hadn’t meant to add, as her demeanor made a subtle shift. “I know you two don’t get along,” she said. “But could you at least try to get along?”

“We’re trying,” Tiny said, his voice low. “It’s…just a little awkward. Hard to break the ice with him. He said he didn’t know who I am, and I’m realizing…I don’t really know who he is, either. And it’s hard to get to know him when he’s avoiding me.”

Morningflower sighed. “I get it. It’s just…he talks a lot about you, you know?”

Tiny rolled his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“It’s strange. He’ll call you a snake and a lion in the same breath. In the morning he’ll get upset that you’re spending time with the kits. And by sunfall, he’ll talk about how you’re one of the best hunters in the clan.”

“Does he really talk about me that much?”

“A little too much, honestly.” Morningflower shook her head. “He still doesn’t know what to think of you. It’s like his heart is shifting, ready to accept you into the clan, but his mind is telling him you’re a threat. I…honestly think you two just need to spend more time together. You could really get along if you tried.”

Tiny paused. “Maybe,” he muttered. “I’ll try, at least.” If Rushtail lets me.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Tiny couldn’t help but gasp the second his whiskers hit fresh air. Those tunnels, so soggy and warm, like the clogged veins of the forest, still clinging to his pelt in a thick layer of mud.

He slipped out of the tunnel entrance as fast as he possibly could, shaking off his pelt to free himself from his earthen prison.

Morningflower laughed, following up behind him. “Not a fan of the dirt, eh?” she teased, still covered in the sludge herself.

Tiny huffed. “If I never have to go in there again, it’ll be far, far too soon.”

“Well, don’t get too lax about it. We’ve still got a return trip through there.”

“Not if we take this properly,” he noted.

She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting catmint for ThunderClan, remember? If we show up to their camp with herbs to give, they’ll be more likely to just…escort us back to the border when we’re done.”

Morningflower paused, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll bite.” She flicked her tail. “Well, then, you’re the one who knows this place. Lead the way.”

And so, with Morningflower trailing behind him, he led a way through the twolegplace, making sure to stay as close to the fenceline as he could. Quietly, counting the fences until he reached the one he was looking for, hoping that Morningflower would warn him of any approaching patrols as his mind was fixed on the fence.

It had been a while since he had seen it from this side.

And still, he managed.

“This is our stop,” he said, looking up at the top of the fence. That hole in the side had long since been patched, but the construction was sturdy enough to climb up onto, even from down here.

Morningflower blinked. “You sure? It looks the same as all these other twoleg walls.”

Tiny nodded. “Positive. This is it.”

Without waiting for a response, he leapt up, grabbing hold of the catch in the middle of the fence and pulling himself up enough to make the second jump. A little less than elegant, but he blamed it on the rain. He certainly wasn’t out of practice.

And gazing in, his eyes fell on a sight too familiar to call nostalgic, and yet his heart panged as he scanned the yard he had grown up in. He had counted every blade of grass and leaf and twig in his many moons here. And it hadn’t changed a day.

It occurred to him, in that moment, that it hadn’t been that long since he left. Only a moon and a quarter, though it had been eventful.

A bright flash of orange caught his eye in the window, and he felt his heart lift again. Jake!

The ginger tabby’s eyes slowly opened, scanning the garden himself, giving a brief glance to Tiny before closing again, then flashing open in a double take. Jake leapt to his paws, staring back at Tiny with wide eyes.

Tiny smiled bright in invitation, causing Jake to shoot over to the door and demand to be let out. A few noisy heartbeats later, the twoleg opened it a crack, causing Jake to explode out in a bolt of ginger fur.

Tiny waited for the twoleg to leave before hopping down from the fence with a wet thud.

“Papa!” he called out as Jake barreled towards him.

“Tiny!” Jake practically screeched. “You’re back so soon! Are you alright?”

Coming to a screeching halt, Jake scanned him with anxious eyes. “You look fine. I mean, you look dirty, but you’re not hurt or anything. Did they kick you out? Did they hurt you? Where’s Rusty? Is he okay?”

Tiny chuckled. “Good to see you too, Papa. Don’t worry, I was just in the area and thought I’d come say hi to my father. Is that so bad?”

Jake sighed, relaxing his shoulders. “Thank goodness. You have no idea how worried I’ve been. I’ve been having awful dreams…” He shuddered. “Well, it’s good to see you, anyhow. How have you been? Are you eating well? You look skinny.”

Tiny shrugged. “Been getting a lot of exercise. Topping up the fresh-kill pile, helping patrol borders, that sort of thing.”

Jake smiled. “Good to hear you’re keeping well.” He paused, turning to look as Morningflower landed in the grass beside Tiny. “Who’s this? A friend?”

“My escort,” Tiny explained.

Morningflower scoffed playfully. “And your cousin, flea-brain!” She gave him a quick bump with her shoulder before turning to Jake. “Morningflower, WindClan warrior. Nice to meet you.”

Jake gave one of those goofy smiles. “Oh, nice to meet you, too! Jake, housecat.” He turned back to Tiny. “So, how is warrior life? Win any battles? Catch any mice?”

“Losing practice fights,” Tiny said with a smirk. “But I’m getting there.”

Morningflower rolled her eyes. “You’re actually a pretty good fighter. It’s just that the only cat who wants to practice these days is Rabbitear, made of muscle with no boundaries.”

Tiny shrugged. “I’m doing better with hunting, though. Dad says I run like a rabbit.”

Jake’s eyes sparkled. “Dad! So, things have been going well on that front? What do you think of him?”

“He’s a great cat,” said Tiny. “He welcomed us so nicely, been making sure we’re well and fed…he even let me go to the Gathering! It was great, he almost traded blows with the leader of ShadowClan.”

“Wish I’d have seen it,” Morningflower said.

Tiny gave her a teasing look. “You were invited.”

She shrugged. “The Gatherings are never that interesting. But of course, the one time I skip it, something happens.”

“We’re not fully WindClan, yet, though,” Tiny continued. “Dad’s giving us a trial period, to see if we want to stay. They start training at six moons. Once the other kits are old enough, Rusty will be apprenticed with them, and we’ll get our names.”

“Ooh!” Jake’s eyes grew wide again. “Does he have them picked out?”

“Not sure what Rusty will be, but I’ve got mine. Palecloud.”

“Palecloud!” Jake chuckled. “Just like him to name you after his mother. I would’ve gone with Pale paw or something…but ‘paw’ is for apprentices, yeah? What else would he have done? Pale…step?”

“Palefoot, most likely,” Morningflower said. “Though probably for the best we don’t give him a reason to go with any more -foot names.”

“Is there a reason he does that?” Tiny asked. “Deadfoot, Darkfoot, Ashfoot…why so many?”

“Not a whole lot, honestly. We’ve got as many -flights and -whiskers. At least he doesn’t name them all -tail, like ThunderClan does. Redtail, Rosetail, Speckletail, Dappletail, Halftail, and now Longtail. Wouldn’t be surprised if we end up with a Raventail or Sandtail.”

“Fair,” said Tiny.

“Speaking of Rusty,” Jake piped in, “how is he? Is he adjusting well? Making friends? Is he excited? I know it’s a big change for a little thing, but I think he’ll be happier in the wild.”

Tiny paused, painfully aware of Morningflower shifting awkwardly beside him. Start with the good stuff. “He’s well,” he started. “He’s got friends. The other kits. Mostly Webkit, a kind of jokester kitten. Reminds me of Filou, a bit. I think he likes it in WindClan. He’s super excited about being a warrior, already decided he’s staying.”

Jake sighed, clearly relieved. “That’s good. I was so worried about him getting bullied or something.”

“To be fair, he kinda is,” Morningflower muttered, trying not to let Jake hear. Tiny gave her a sharp jab to shut her up.

Jake clearly heard. “What was that?” he asked, his anxiety returning.

Tiny sighed. “One of the kits, Runningkit. She’s a bully. Loud, obnoxious, troublesome…she’s apparently been pushing Rusty around quite a bit.” He paused. “Actually, that’s part of why I’m here. The three of them, Rusty, Webkit, and Runningkit…they…had an accident.”

The fur on Jake’s neck began to rise. “What… kind of accident? I-is he okay?!”

“He’ll be fine,” Tiny assured. “They got into a tangle with…a fox. But everyone’s okay.”

Morningflower’s gaze shifted. “Except Rusty’s eye.”

Tiny wanted to whack her upside the head.

Jake continued to bristle nervously. “His eye ? What happened to his eye?!”

“He…” Tiny bit his tongue. “He might lose it. And even if he doesn't, he'll be half blind from now on.”

Seeing Jake’s eyes widen, he continued on quickly. “But he’s recovering well! He’s in good paws. Barkface has been treating him, and he’s healing up really nicely. Hasn’t broken his resolve, either. If anything, it’s made him want to work harder. The other one, Webkit, tore a muscle in his leg. He’ll have a limp from now on, too. They’re sticking together, determined to come out stronger. And neither wants to get into that kind of trouble again.”

Jake swallowed. “Good. I suppose. Still, my poor little warrior! He got hurt so bad! What’s going to happen to him? Will they still let him be one?”

“Of course they will,” Tiny said. “Dad’s assured us all. He’s not going to be any less of a warrior with a bad eye.”

“Our deputy has a bad paw,” Morningflower added. “RiverClan’s leader has a bad jaw. A bad eye won’t keep the little thing down for long.”

Jake didn’t respond right away. Just…thought. Churning a thought around in his head as his mind wandered into territory he clearly wasn’t comfortable in. Tiny watched as his anxiety only seemed to rise, radiating an aura of concern.

“I knew it was dangerous, but…” he muttered.

Tiny shook his head. “What happened was a freak accident. Plenty of warriors live their whole lives without things like that happening. Besides, he’s learned quite the lesson. One I think he’d be hard pressed to forget.”

Jake closed his eyes. “Still…”

Tiny sighed. “I know you’re worried. You’re wondering if this was the right call. If I should bring him back. But Papa, please, please trust me when I say this is what he wants. He’s a warrior at heart. You know that. I know that. Dad knows that. All of WindClan can see it plain as day. He needs to be careful, yes. But he belongs out there. It’s all he wants. His heart is in the wild.”

Morningflower nodded. “And we’ll take care of him. He’s still with family, he’s being looked after. He survived a fox, for StarClan’s sake! He’s strong. That little kit is twice the warrior some full grown cats are. It’s dangerous, yes. But if any cat can handle it…it’s him.”

Jake squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter, then took a deep breath, puffing out his chest and letting his fur lie flat. “You’re right,” he said, though a slight shake in his voice still splintered cracks in his resolve. “This little corner of the world is too small for him. He’ll outgrow it fast.” He paused. “Still. If he wants to come home…if he changes his mind…I’ll always be here. That goes for you, too, Tiny. You always have a home here.”

Tiny paused. He didn’t have the heart to tell Jake he had outgrown this backyard a long time ago.

Instead, he nodded, smiling sweetly. “I know. I’ll tell him as much, too.”

Morningflower turned to him. “I…don’t mean to cut into the emotional moment, but we are here for something, aren’t we?”

Tiny took a steadying breath. “Ah, yes. Catnip. Socks and Ruby’s folks still have some, right?”

Jake nodded. “Should. Do…you need me to get some for you?”

Tiny shook his head. “I can go myself. Won’t do me a lot of good to sit around here.”

“Be careful, though,” Jake added. “There’s been trouble, lately. A coupla ruffians starting fights. Keep safe out there.”

Tiny nodded. “I will. It was good to see you, Papa. Take care.”

Jake sighed. “Good to see you, too. Hey, when Rusty gets his name, bring him back here. And Talltail, too. We can make a day of it!”

A purr escaped Tiny’s throat. “Sounds great.”

Jake turned. “It was good to meet you, Morningflower. Take care of my kits, alright?” he said, a playful smile on his face.

Morningflower nodded, smiling more sincerely. “We all will.”

Chapter Text

It was a little unsettling how well Tiny’s paws still knew these paths.

He didn’t want to feel like he was back home. Didn’t want to let his mind relax here. But it was hard not to, when the stones beneath his paws welcomed him like old friends, like the last moon was nothing but a dream he had just awoken from. Or, perhaps, this was the dream, blending his past and current lives into something he didn’t question, until he was snapped awake by Deadfoot calling him for dawn patrol.

Familiar faces now watched him from holes in fences and branches on finely pruned trees, tracking him like a dangerous stranger.

In some sense, that’s what he was now.

Wasn’t it?

In any case, if this was a dream, he could sense the moment approaching. That moment all his dreams had, when the shaky ground of a false reality gave way and he tumbled into the nightmare, and suddenly he would be back.

Back to where he started.

But this was real, and he could feel it in the way the ground bit into his paw pads, the way his breath caught in his chest, that what he was about to do was really, truly happening.

He wished Morningflower didn’t have to see him like this.

The walk was silent. At least, Tiny thought so. If Morningflower was asking him questions, he wasn’t hearing them. Too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

But eventually, they reached the fence. Solid, like all the others, yet this one white like snow. Tiny swallowed hard as he stared up at the top of the fence, feeling his stomach churn. The jump suddenly seemed far longer than he had remembered.

“Are you okay?” Morningflower’s words finally cut through the fog in his mind. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

Tiny sighed, his breath cutting ragged through his chest. “I don’t want to do this,” he muttered, half to her and half himself.

“What’s wrong?”

Tiny took a breath again. “It’s my siblings. Socks and Ruby. I…haven’t seen them in a while.”

Morningflower smiled. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you!”

Tiny shook his head. “I stopped talking to them for a reason. Honestly, I have no clue if they’ll let me get what I need.”

“Oh.”

A horrible silence hung for a few fragile heartbeats. He had to do this.

This was the secret to his answers.

He had to do this for ThunderClan. He had to see them again.

He had to talk to Bluestar.

And so, he took a breath, holding it steady for a moment.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Morningflower assured him.

Tiny nodded. It did help, even if just a little.

It took tremendous effort to get his legs to jump again. Clawing his way up the fence, peeking his head over to see if either of them were about. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if they were. But he had to check.

Cresting the top of the fence and letting himself fall was the easy part. Gravity took his body where his paws didn’t want to take him. He froze for a moment after his paws hit the ground, only moving again when he heard Morningflower land next to him.

She looked around. “I don’t see anybody.”

“Good,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe we can get in and out before anyone notices.”

Morningflower nodded. “Well, where’s the stuff?”

Tiny pointed with his tail towards the patch of purple flowers. “There. Looks like they’re still here, thank StarClan. Hate to come here for nothing.”

Morningflower started the move towards them, motioning for Tiny to follow. It was somehow easier that way, even as his eyes darted around.

He was more nervous now than he was in ThunderClan.

Why was that? He wasn’t in danger, surely. In fact, he was most likely in more danger in the ThunderClan camp than he was here. Surrounded by cats, each one trained from a young age to fight, to kill, to defend what they have with their very lives.

And yet, his heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“Oi! You two!”

Tiny’s blood ran cold enough to burn through his body.

He knew that voice. Terribly well.

Looking up, he met eyes with the figure standing on the fence, glaring down at him with a ferocity that rivaled Darkstripe. A pale gray molly, pink collar jingling around her neck. Behind her, a black and white tom pulled himself up to stand with her, only for her to jump down as soon as he got his bearings.

Tiny gulped. “Ruby! Socks!” He could tell his voice was shaking, but could do nothing to stop it. “Been a while! How are you?”

Ruby’s cold yellow eyes narrowed into slits. “Oh. It’s just you. We thought it was somebody important, for a moment.”

Tiny tensed. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind me taking some of this catnip, will you?”

Ruby didn’t respond, instead letting her eyes scan him. “You look horrible,” she noted. “All skinny and covered in mud. And what happened to your collar?”

Socks trotted up, sitting beside her with a harsh smirk. “Don’t tell me. The Twoleg finally got sick of you and kicked you out. Is that it? And now you’ve come whining to us to solve your problems?”

Tiny found his words caught in his throat. But Morningflower stepped in. “Palecloud, who are these cats?” she asked, raising her voice just a little. “Do you know them?”

Tiny blinked. What was she getting at? He had just told her who they were. Besides, she never called him Palecloud.

She was up to something, he was sure.

“Palecloud?” Ruby echoed, a sneer in her tone. “Oh, so he’s told you he’s one of those forest cats, now? Figures. Tiny’s always been a liar.”

Morningflower just stared. “I’m sorry, who…?”

“Ruby, and this is Socks. We’re Tiny’s littermates.”

Socks nodded. “The ones that aren’t mewling little runts, anyway.”

Morningflower smiled, ignoring the comment. “Well, then! That explains it. I’m Morningflower of WindClan.”

“WindClan!” Socks exclaimed, his eyes growing wide. “What’s a WindClan warrior doing all the way out here? With Tiny, of all cats?”

“We’re looking for herbs,” Morningflower explained. “Palecloud said he could help me find some. Said he knew just where to go! I’m surprised he remembers all this stuff!”

Ruby cocked her head. It was clear she didn’t quite believe the story. “Oh, yeah? And why are warrior cats hanging out with Tiny, anyhow? If he told you he’s a wild cat, he’s lying through his teeth. Just like always.”

“Oh, he joined no too long ago. He and Rusty, both, come to live with their father. Or your father, I suppose, if you’re littermates. Tallstar.”

Socks blinked. “You mean Talltail? You’ve met him?”

Morningflower nodded. “Of course! He’s leader of WindClan, after all! And my mother’s brother, as well.”

“Makes sense,” said Ruby, that awful, mischievous look on her face.

Morningflower just stared at her. “What makes sense?”

Ruby shrugged. “Makes sense that all you’d need to get in is a family connection. No reason to let Tiny in otherwise.” She laughed to herself. “Bet he’s just dead weight, laying around all day, picking fights and losing them.”

Socks smirked at her. “Bet all he does is complain about getting dirt in his fur and whine about not sleeping well out in the rain.”

Morningflower blinked. “I’m not sure what kind of cat you knew him as, but I find these things you’re saying rather hard to believe. Palecloud is an honest, hard-working cat who has put more effort into his new life than some clanborn cats I know.” She turned to him, a genuine smile on her face.

Tiny could feel his face staring to mirror hers. Even so, he knew this was merely bait.

She was definitely planning something. He could see it from the glint in her eye.

“He’s used to overworking,” Ruby cut in. “It’s the only way he could keep up with us. We’re the skilled ones.”

“Oh, he’s got skills,” Morningflower argued. “One of the best hunters in the four clans. Fast as the wind, a silent stalker, and intelligent, too! Tactical, practical, and I’m sure those raw skills will only get more and more honed as time goes on.” She turned back to the two of them. “What are your skills?”

Ruby scoffed. “Best hunter in the clans. Please. He couldn’t catch a mouse if it walked into his paws.”

Morningflower’s eyes narrowed as she flicked an ear. But her tail wouldn’t sit still. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t have anything?”

Ruby blinked, her face twisting back in an odd look between shock and anger. “Of course I do! I’m twice the hunter Tiny is, I’ll bet! And a better fighter, too!”

“Awfully confident for someone with no training.”

Socks shot her a look. “Yeah? And what training does Tiny have?” he argued, his tone mocking.

“A few feathers, I’ll bet,” Ruby said. “Maybe win a fight with his own tail once or twice?”

Socks laughed. “That training must be working! Last we saw him, he’d lose a fight to his shadow!”

Morningflower just stared. “You two are very unpleasant.”

Ruby paused, looking genuinely offended, if a little confused. “Excuse me?”

“You are some of the least enjoyable cats I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” Morningflower continued. She dipped her head and shook it. “I see why Palecloud left.”

Socks’s eyes were wide. “Because he’s a whiner!” he argued. “He couldn’t keep up with us, so he ran off like the runt he is!”

“And yet, it seems he’s still the bigger cat.” Morningflower’s voice was somber. She sighed. “A shame. I was looking forward to meeting more of my kin. But it seems we got the good ones. I’m sad to see the cats you’ve become. Palecloud gave me such high hopes.”

She shrugged. “Well, I’m glad I met you, anyway. Now I have the perfect answer for when Crowfur asks if Palecloud wants to go back to kittypet life. I’ll just tell him no cat would want to go back to living with you two. Great StarClan, I’ve only been talking to you for a few heartbeats and I already can’t stand you! I guess that must have been what made Palecloud so strong then, eh? Already used to taking a beating. No wonder he doesn’t complain about warrior life! Must be paradise compared to dealing with these two for more than a brief conversation.”

Ruby stared blankly, searching for words and finding none.

Socks looked more ashamed, though not like he had learned a lesson. More like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do and despised the confrontation. “We were just goofing around,” he said quietly.

“Y-yeah!” Ruby chimed in, getting her thoughts back in order. “Don’t take it so seriously! Do you not have siblings?”

“I do,” Morningflower responded plainly. “And yet, neither of them are as rude as you two. I mean, if this is how you talk about him in polite conversation with a total stranger, I can only imagine how cruel you would be in private. You talk like kits. I’m honestly shocked that Tallstar’s own kin would behave like this. To their littermate, no less. Well, I suppose there is a lesson in this, isn’t there? Blood doesn’t make the cat.”

She turned to Tiny. “We should go. We got what we came for, right? I’d like to get back before it gets dark, and I certainly don’t want to keep talking to these two any longer than I have to.”

Tiny blinked, a little speechless himself. “Oh, uh, yes,” he stammered. “Yes, I suppose we should go. The…the clan will be expecting us back…soon.”

Morningflower nodded, then turned back to Socks and Ruby as Tiny bent down to grab the sprigs of catmint between his teeth.

Morningflower gave the kittypets a sickly sweet smile. “Well, I hope we meet again someday. And I hope you’ve grown up by then.”

“That was brilliant!” Tiny chirped through his mouthful of herbs as he led Morningflower back out of Twolegplace. A spring in his step wouldn’t let up as the adrenaline still sizzled through his body.

Morningflower shrugged dismissively, but a prideful smile still adorned her face. “It was nothing,” she purred. “Nothing bullies hate more than being called out by someone they respect. All I had to do was convince them I knew what I was talking about.”

“But you shut them down so quick!” Tiny insisted. “I’ve never seen them react like that!”

Morningflower paused. “How long have they been like that?” she asked, something tender in her tone.

Tiny sighed. “Forever. I…don’t remember a time when they weren’t, honestly.”

She shook her head. “Sounds tough, dealing with cats like that.”

Tiny shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“But you shouldn’t be! It’s awful! They’re supposed to be your kin, and yet they talk about you like…like Crowfur talks about ShadowClan. Why?”

“That’s just who they are,” Tiny conceded. “Changing them would be like teaching hedgehogs to fly. It’s not going to work.”

Morningflower huffed. “It’s strange to me that Jake raised such good cats in you and your brother, and yet…”

“Jake didn’t raise them,” Tiny corrected. “He had given us to a friend, to try and protect us from his Twoleg. Quince was her name. She was a good cat. She tried to help me, but…again, when hedgehogs fly.”

“No wonder you’re so protective of Rusty,” she thought aloud. “And such a hard worker, too. Growing up with cats like that, who only see you as what you can do for them, and a target if you don’t meet their standards…it does something to you.”

Tiny blinked. “You…have experience?”

“Personally? No. Glad to say, things have been good for me. But I know it’s not good for everyone. I’m…sorry you had to deal with that for so long.”

Tiny paused. “Did you mean all that stuff you said?” he asked. “Me being a good hunter? Tactical and practical? Did you really mean it when you called me that?”

Morningflower nodded. “Every word.” She sighed. “Look. I know now that you’ve been taught to see yourself as inferior, like you’re the failure of the group. Those things they said…I can only imagine how bad it got.”

Tiny looked down at his paws.

“But they’re wrong about you,” Morningflower continued. “Everything they said was wrong. They called you lazy, a liar, a burden. You are none of those things. You’re a hard-working, honest, good-natured and skilled cat, and we’re glad to have you. Not just because you’re family. And though we would all still tell you nice things even if you weren’t good at this, you are good at what you do! Genuinely. Don’t let some lousy bullies tell you otherwise.”

Tiny paused. He wasn’t quite sure he could believe what he had just heard.

But he needed to hear it.

He nodded. “Thanks. That…makes me feel a little better, at least.”

“I know I can’t fix everything right now,” she said with a sigh. “But I hope someday you believe me.”

“You there! You’re trespassing on ThunderClan territory!”

Tiny’s paws had barely crossed into the forest when the sharp yowl cut through his senses like raking claws. A flash of brown tabby stripes, though paler than Tigerclaw’s, with moss green eyes and long, lanky limbs tensed to strike any moment. The fur on the back of the stranger’s neck stuck out almost to his ears, his tail puffed up and his back arched.

Tiny didn’t so much as flinch.

Morningflower sighed. “Well, hello to you too, Runningwind,” she said sarcastically. “Mind not jumping for our throats when we’re here on a delivery mission?”

“Delivery?” a new voice echoed. A thicker, golden tabby tom appeared from the shadows, his ears pricked less in alert and more with interest. “A delivery of what?”

“Herbs,” said Tiny. “Catmint, to be precise. ThunderClan has been helping with our medicine shortage, it’s only reasonable that we return the favor. Isn’t it?”

Runningwind’s fur started to settle. “Well! In that case…”

“We can take those off your paws,” the golden tabby offered. “We’re just about to head back to camp, anyway.”

Tiny’s heart lurched with something. “Ah! Wait!” The words left his mouth before he had time to think.

The golden cat blinked in surprise. “Is…there something wrong?”

Tiny froze. What was it he was trying to say? How would he ask this question in a way that wouldn’t sound suspect? “I-I need to talk to Bluestar about something. Is that alright? She’s not ill, is she?”

Runningwind turned to his companion. “Lionheart? I don’t know if I trust this.”

Lionheart shook his head. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure, myself. We could pass on a message for you, if you’d like, but…”

Come on, Tiny! Think!

You’re here on Tallstar’s behalf.

There it was again! That voice in his head that wasn’t his own! He was sure of it, this time.

And yet, he listened.

Tallstar has a message for Bluestar, urgent and private, and you’re the only cat he trusts with it.

Tiny swallowed, trying his hardest to look serious. “I’m here on Tallstar’s orders,” he declared. “He has a message for Bluestar. Her ears only.”

Morningflower nodded, getting the idea fast. “That’s right. But we figured we’d bring some catmint, while we were here, since we heard you could use it.”

Runningwind’s eyes narrowed. “How urgent?”

“Urgent,” Tiny pressed.

Mention RiverClan. That will get you in.

“It’s about RiverClan, if that helps.”

Lionheart’s face lifted a bit. “I see. Well, then. Come along.”

Tiny followed behind Runningwind as Lionheart led them into the forest, Morningflower by his side.

Easy enough.

But what is that voice? Tiny thought.

The ThunderClan camp was in worse shape than when Tiny last saw it. Not rough or broken down, but stuck. As if the working heartbeat of the clan had slowed. The cause was clear: sickness. Too many cats sat at the edges of the camp, some hacking and wheezing, others having their symptoms reduced to sniffles. The worst of them seemed sectioned off in the medicine den, and as Tiny poked his head into the crack in the rock face, he could see Spottedleaf. Not buzzing about, but clearly deeply stressed, tending to a thick-furred black cat who looked too weak to fight his own lungs.

“Special delivery!” Morningflower called out.

Spottedleaf’s head snapped up, her face tired enough that she looked like death.

“Out!” she barked. “I’ve got the cats in here quarantined, alright? I don’t need anyone else getting sick.”

Tiny smirked, placing the catmint down at his paws. “An awful strange ‘thank you’, isn’t it?”

Spottedleaf blinked, staring as if she hadn’t seen them in the first place. She shook her head to clear it. “Palecloud!” she called, bouncing up to greet him. “And Morningflower! Thank you, so much. I’m sorry for snapping, I’m just…” She gave a heavy sigh. “I’m so tired,” she growled, looking down at her paws.

Morningflower shot her a sympathetic look. “I can see why,” she said. “How bad are things?”

Spottedleaf swallowed. “Bad. We’ve…lost Poppydawn.”

Tiny’s heart sank. Rosetail and Dappletail’s mother? The two must be taking it hard. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner,” he mumbled.

Spottedleaf shook her head. “Not your fault, in the slightest. It’s the food. All the warriors who can hunt have been too sick to do so. The pile’s been low for days, and the rain isn’t helping in the slightest. Redtail’s doing his best keeping things running, but I can tell he’s sick, too.”

Tiny frowned. “I’m sorry things have been rough. I wish we could do more.”

“You’ve already done plenty,” Spottedleaf said with a smile. “You’re life savers, really. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I was wondering,” Morningflower said. “Have you thought of taking on an apprentice? Goldenflower’s should be around that age by now, yes?”

Spottedleaf shrugged, turning her gaze sadly. “True. I’m just…not sure I’m ready, yet. Sure, things are tough with only one set of paws. But it’s not been that long since we lost Featherwhisker. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a mentor. I barely feel like a medicine cat, myself! Besides, I don’t think any of the three of them - four, if you count Graykit - have an eye for medicine. I’ll see about Frostfur’s litter, though. In the meantime, it’ll just be me.”

“Then maybe you should get back to work.”

Darkstripe sure had a knack for interrupting a good moment.

Tiny turned to him. “Hello again,” he said, trying his best to sound obnoxiously chipper. “We seem to keep running into each other today.”

Darkstripe’s glare was vile, combined with a sneer. Behind him, a long, striped tail lashed. “What is your problem?” he asked sharply.

Tiny shrugged. “I help. It’s what I do.”

“Not that you’d be too familiar with that,” Spottedleaf quipped. “Why don’t you go make yourself useful? I’m sure Redtail would appreciate a hunting party going out.”

Darkstripe groaned. “Another hunting patrol? I’ve done enough of those to last a lifetime. It’s not my duty to feed the entire clan.”

Spottedleaf’s gaze was even sharper than his, laced with the fiery judgment of a cat far too tired to care for tact. “Loyalty at its finest, that’s Darkstripe for you. So selfless and hard-working. These two cats just made their way across the whole territory for us! Can’t you even thank them for all their effort?”

Darkstripe huffed. “You shouldn’t be taking their charity, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t need their charity if you’d let me do my job!” she snapped.

“If it helps, you can consider this return of a debt,” Tiny chimed in. “Spottedleaf has helped us with our own herb problems. It’s only fair we help her out in return. Isn’t it?”

Darkstripe cast him one last look before turning away, grumbling something to himself.

Spottedleaf sighed. “He’s a menace.”

“We can tell,” Morningflower said with a giggle. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Tiny blinked. “While I’d love to catch up, I do have something I need to speak to Bluestar about,” he noted. “Is she well enough?”

Spottedleaf nodded. “She had it early on, but she’s recovered since. She should be in her den at the moment, just got back from a patrol, herself. She’s in the cave in Highrock, just behind the lichen. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Tiny smiled. “Great. I’ll head her way, if that’s alright.”

“Should be.” Spottedleaf flashed him as bright a smile as she could manage. “Well, it was good to see you. And thank you again. Both of you. You’ve done a great service.”

“Don’t mention it,” Morningflower chirped. “You’ve done the same for us. Besides, you look like you could use the weight off your shoulders.”

Spottedleaf didn’t respond, but her smile did grow a little more honest. “Well, I’ve got work to do. Safe travels, and stay healthy.”

With that, she picked the herbs from where Tiny had placed them and trotted back into her den.

Tiny turned to Morningflower. “A good deed done,” he said.

Morningflower nodded. “Worth doing over. Now, then. About Bluestar…”

“I’ve got something to ask her. Something…a little more personal, if I’m honest.” He looked down at his paws. “I…would like to be alone with her, if that’s okay.”

Morningflower paused. “I figured. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll go see how Frostfur’s holding up, since we’re here. Meet me by the camp entrance when you’re done.”

He looked back up at her. “Thanks. And…again, thank you for coming with me.”

She gave him a sincere smile. “Anytime. Just ask.”

The ThunderClan leader’s den was dark. Warm. Not claustrophobic, like the tunnels, but small enough to be…’cozy’ was the word Tiny would have used.

He only poked his head in slightly, pulling the lichen curtain back with his black paw to peek in. The darkness fell away a bit as the light filtered in through the entrance.

Blue eyes opened as he approached. Cold blue eyes, nearly matching his. A silvery-blue pelt rippled like starlight as Bluestar turned up to look at him. Something flashed in her gaze.

“Come in,” she said, her voice a little tired, though not nearly as exhausted as Spottedleaf’s. Like limbs collapsing after a hard day’s work.

Tiny pushed his way through the entrance, painfully aware of how he was holding his breath. And yet, he couldn’t get his lungs to move.

“Ah, I’m sorry to intrude,” he finally managed to croak.

Bluestar’s eyes locked with his. “It’s you,” she muttered.

Tiny blinked. “Do…you know me?”

She nodded. “If my eyes don’t deceive. And I must admit, they may just be. But you…you’re that kit, from that day. Aren’t you?”

Tiny’s heart jumped, and he could feel his body react. He suddenly felt so small. “You…remember me?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice quiet yet solid. “I worried about you for moons. You were so small. I’m glad you’re alive.”

To tell the truth, Tiny wasn’t sure how he would react when he got to this moment. A talk with Bluestar. Would he have stood tall, proud of the cat he had become? Would she have rejected him? But in no version of this did he expect her to remember him.

And in no version was he about to cry.

And yet, here he was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Surely you can’t have risked a journey to the heart of ThunderClan just to speak with me.”

In all honesty, he would have.

“My…name is…” He swallowed hard. “My name is Tiny. My father, Jake…he always told me about the warrior clans. Said I was the son of a great warrior. And in this past moon, I’ve come to join the clans with my brother, Rusty.”

Bluestar nodded. “Ah, I see. Yes, Rosetail told me about you. You go by Palecloud now, yes?” She shook her head, though she still smiled. “To think, all those moons ago, that little kit that had wandered beyond Twolegplace was Tallstar’s own son. Small world, I suppose.”

She blinked, looking up at him again. “You’ve certainly grown. How are you, these days? I hope you’re well.”

“I’m…surviving. The transition has been rough, I’ll admit. But…I do feel like I could be happy here.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She paused. “You have more on your mind, though. A question. You’ve come here to ask me yourself.”

Tiny took a breath. It did nothing to steady him. “Yes. I’ve come to ask about one of the cats that was with you that day. Thistleclaw.”

Bluestar’s pelt began to bristle a bit. Still, her face remained stoic. “Thistleclaw? Yes, he was there, wasn’t he? He was the one…” She shook her head. “What do you want to know?”

“Who was he?”

Bluestar sighed. “That’s a little question with a big answer. Though I’m sure you of all cats are aware of who he really was. A violent cat, though a strong warrior. He had a vile hatred of outsiders that I’m sorry to say you were on the receiving end of. Though you were far from his only target, you were the only one I could…save.”

“He has a son, right? Whitestorm?”

Another nod. “His mate - Thistleclaw’s - was my sister. Snowfur. They had a single kit, Whitestorm. He’s about your age, actually. But Snowfur…died. In an accident. Thistleclaw and I blamed each other. I can’t say I can give you an unbiased look, but I’m not sure many cats could. And so I will be the first to tell you.” Her gaze grew dark. “Thistleclaw was exactly the cat you think he is.”

Tiny paused. “But Whitestorm…he’s a good cat, isn’t he?”

“One of my best. A great father and mate, a noble warrior…I’ll be giving him an apprentice, this moon. One of Tigerclaw’s kits.”

Tiny looked down at his paws. He couldn’t ask the question directly, but he had to know. “Do you know what happened to him, in the end?” he asked. “I’ve heard he was killed by RiverClan, and that broke the Sunningrocks truce.”

Bluestar thought for a second. “Are you asking for my thoughts as a leader, or as a cat who knew him?”

“Both.”

She sighed. “As leader, my official statement is that RiverClan killed a good warrior. But as a cat…”

Tiny looked up. “Are you suspicious of something?”

“If I’m suspicious of anything, it’s Thistleclaw. My assessment of events is that Thistleclaw started something. He attacked RiverClan, without warning, on his own. He went out alone to do so, insisting that no one follow him. I remember that day, when he slunk out of camp and didn’t come back. He was angry about something. Something he wanted to do. He left camp that day with unsheathed claws, and died as he lived, angry and spiteful.”

Interesting. “Was he angry about something particular?” he asked.

“Not that I know,” Bluestar thought aloud. “He had had an argument earlier that day, though. A heated one. With Lionheart.”

“What about?”

“Darkstripe. He’s Whitestorm’s son, see. He had caused some trouble while out on a patrol, and Lionheart chastised him. Thistleclaw was angry with Lionheart for scolding his grandson, especially for something that Thistleclaw himself encouraged. Darkstripe took Thistleclaw’s side, Whitestorm took Lionheart’s, and eventually we had to separate them.” She shook her head. “That was the last time that Whitestorm ever spoke to his father.”

Tiny paused. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just…I know you’d want to put it to rest, but I…”

“I understand,” she said. “You need it resolved, for your own sake. I don’t blame you. But Thistleclaw’s death was just the natural end to who he was. He sure would have had no lingering feelings about his death, especially when it sparked a war. And that war will be his legacy. The rest of him, though? If you ask me…it’s best he’s forgotten.”

Those words again.

Tiny was starting to believe them.

He nodded. “Thank you. For speaking with me. I’m…sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Don’t be,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad to see you again. And I hope you’ll find your peace.”

Chapter Text

Sandkit’s paws twitched impatiently, waiting at the nursery entrance, perched at the starting line and waiting for the call to strike. She took a few deep breaths, hoping to calm the rush of blood through her ears as her heart pounded.

It did nothing to help.

Her pelt still burned, her tail lashed back and forth, scanning the flow of the ThunderClan camp with restless eyes, hoping for something to grab to keep her mind occupied. But it was a slow day. Slower than usual, even. Like the whole camp was unaware of what a special day it was, the excited and nervous air confined solely to the nursery.

Where was Bluestar? Was she preparing? What would she even be preparing? It’s not like this hadn’t been on her mind, right? Was she really deciding last minute? Or had something else come up?

But what could be more important than this, she wondered. StarClan themselves could put their business and feuds on hold. Today was the day!

“Hold still!”

The sounds of a struggle still projected from within the nursery as Dustkit whined and moaned and Goldenflower tried her best to hold him down. Sandkit sighed.

“But mama!” he cried. “I’m already clean!”

“Clean, yes. But presentable? Not nearly.” Goldenflower sighed. “You look like you were dragged backwards through the bracken!”

Dustkit huffed. “I like it that way! I’m scrappy!”

Dustkit certainly lived up to his name, Sandkit thought, remembering the joke that Lionheart teased him with.

“When you were first born, you and your sister looked identical,” he had claimed. “But you’ve been too dirty to clean ever since.”

Lionheart had been spending more time around the nursery, recently, doting over Frostfur every chance he got and taking the kits when he could. To give both her and his sister some rest. With Frostfur too pregnant to walk properly, these days, he was always there, ready to take over the second she felt unwell. So excited for his kits, to start new lives with his mate. Everyone knew he would be a great father.

“You’ll have some tough competition for the ‘best dad’ title,” Willowpelt had told Whitestorm. It only made the white warrior want to do even better. And so he had been spending undue time with his son. Between the two of them, little Graykit was being absolutely spoiled rotten. And he sure acted like it, convinced he was invited to any game the bigger kits were playing, whining and asking every question he could think of, just to get a little more attention.

Even now, on Sandkit’s special day, the day she started her life, he was demanding his mother’s attention, asking why he couldn’t go out with the others.

“I’m big enough!” he protested, his shrill voice grating on Sandkit’s ears. She promised then and there to never have kits of her own.

“But you’re not old enough,” Willowpelt reminded him. “You’ll get your turn. It’s only fair.”

It’s only fair.

Sandkit scoffed at the idea.

If things were fair, how come Tigerclaw never played like that with her? Never spent his days making sure his own kin was growing up as big and strong as him? He hadn’t set a single paw in the nursery since they were born. All of Sandkit’s memories of him were of tales from others, of his accomplishments as a warrior. His discussions with Goldenflower always took place outside the nursery, his talks with his kits fleeting and few. Always busy.

Did he not have enough time for her and her brothers?

Were they not worth the time?

Sandkit would show him.

She, at least, was worth it.

She couldn’t speak to Dustkit, who couldn’t so much as clean his own tail without batting at it like a moss-ball. He had a lot of growing up to do before Tigerclaw paid much mind to him. Perhaps that’s why Redtail had requested to be his mentor specifically. A little extra attention from the clan deputy might be the pressure he needed to get his act together. But Sandkit knew it would all just go to his head.

It already had, in all honesty.

Ravenkit was more promising. But he would have his own growing to do. A quiet little thing, never one to speak up unless asked. Getting him out of his shell was a task for his mentor that Sandkit didn’t envy. But he could do it. He just had to be a little braver.

Until then, she’d make her own way.

Bravery was something Sandkit had in spades. Never afraid of the future, never fearing the world outside. She looked forward to it. The wind on her whiskers, memorizing every tree in the forest, her little corner of the world. She would be the best warrior ThunderClan had ever seen, or she would die trying.

Hunting was the thing she needed to improve on. She already had a knack for fights, as Lionheart had told her. Dustkit couldn’t stand a chance any time they played. She was even winning scuffles with Whitestorm, now! A warrior in the making. But it wasn’t just borders and battles that were part of a warrior’s duties, which Goldenflower reminded her of any time the topic was brought up.. It was about taking care of the clan. She would spend most of her time hunting. The clan had to eat, after all, and there were plenty of clan members who couldn’t hunt for themselves. Not just Graykit and Frostfur and Willowpelt, but the elders, as well. She listened to their stories of great triumph so many times, she would have to repay them in her efforts. One-eye, especially. She had always taken the time to tell Sandkit any story she wanted to hear, even those she had been told a million times over. One-eye never said no to a million and one.

The first thing Sandkit caught. It went straight to her.

She hadn’t been the same since they lost Poppydawn.

“Sandkit?”

She jumped a little, turning to see her brother trotting out of the depths of the nursery to sit beside her in the entrance. She sighed, letting her fur lie flat. “Hey, Ravenkit. Excited?” she asked, acutely aware of her ears and whiskers twitching as she spoke. “Today’s the day, after all!”

Ravenkit only shrugged, looking down at his paws. “I guess,” he mumbled. “I’m just…a bit nervous.”

Sandkit nodded. “I get it. Big day. Lots of changes.”

“Do you think…” He swallowed hard. “Do you think I’ll make a good warrior? I don’t want to be…I don’t want to bring the clan down. You know. Be a burden.”

“You won’t be,” Sandkit assured him, scooting a little closer to wrap her fluffy tail around him. “We’re gonna do great, you and I. I’m sure. Work hard, work together, and we’ll take over the forest!”

The comment didn’t yield the reaction she was hoping for, as he just continued to stare down at his paws. “What if I’m not good at this?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Then you practice. You get better.”

“But what if I don’t? What if something happens? What if-”

A yowl cut between them like a frigid wind.

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath the Highrock for a clan meeting!”

Sandkit shot up to her paws. It was time!

“C’mon!” she called out, turning first to Ravenkit and then starting her way down towards the center of camp. All that energy, the electricity still arcing through every hair on her pelt, all exploded at once as she launched herself toward the center of camp and-!

“ Walk .”

A slight pain twinged in her as teeth grabbed the scruff of her neck. The voice was her mother’s, she was sure.

“Come on !” Dustkit whined. “It’s finally time! How can we be patient?”

“I won’t have you lot making fools of yourselves on your first day as apprentices,” Goldenflower chided. “You will walk, like civilized cats, not run up like squirrels.”

Like squirrels! Sandkit bit her tongue. Not even given her apprentice name yet and she’d already messed it up!

She nodded. “Yes, mama,” she muttered. “I’ll walk.”

“Good,” Goldenflower cooed, letting her go and giving a few quick licks to smooth down the fur she had ruffled. “There. Now, you’re all set.” She leaned in at the last second, touching noses with Sandkit. “Take care of your brothers, alright?” she said, her voice hushed enough for only Sandkit to hear.

“I will.”

With a final flick of the tail, she turned, walking down side-by-side with Ravenkit, her head held high as she made her way through the gathered cats, taking note of Dustkit pushing his way ahead despite Goldenflower’s warning.

Sandkit looked around at the assembled warriors. Clanmates. Familiar faces, one and all, each one looking on with pride.

But her heart still dropped. Where was Tigerclaw?

By the time she reached her place near the front of the crowd, she hadn’t seen him.

Still, she sat, her chest full and shoulders squared as she took her place between her brothers and looked up to Bluestar. The leader’s pelt flashed silver light through the camp, shining like a star sent from Silverpelt itself to lead them. Her blue eyes shimmered in the sun, every whisker and hair radiating an ethereal glow that spoke to a natural sense of authority.

Sandkit wondered what it would look like from up there, addressing the clan as her own.

Sandstar.

It had a nice ring to it.

Bluestar’s voice rang out once more. “Today, three kits have reached the age of six moons and are ready to become apprentices to our Warrior Code.” She looked down with that icy stare of hers, a smile of pride on her face. “Dustkit.”

At the mention of his name, he bounded forward. Sandkit couldn’t help but notice he had messed his fur in the few seconds he was out of Goldenflower’s sight. He beamed up at his leader, eagerly awaiting the words he knew were coming. No surprises whose apprentice he was going to be.

Bluestar continued. “From this day forth until you recieve your warrior name, you shall be known as Dustpaw.” She turned again, locking eyes with her deputy sitting in the crowd. “Redtail. You have been my deputy for many moons, now. You are one of my most skilled warriors and one of my closest friends. You have done an admirable job training Mousefur in the past. And now I hope you will train Dustpaw to your caliber.”

As she spoke, Redtail walked forward into the center of the crowd, taking his place beside Dustpaw and touching noses with him. The two exchanged brief words and smiles, though Sandkit couldn’t hear any of it.

“Ravenkit.”

Sandkit felt him go tense as stone next to her. He didn’t budge a whisker, even as he looked up at Bluestar’s expecting gaze.

A few chuckles and whispers began to bubble from the assembled crowd.

Bluestar cleared her throat. “Ravenkit. Step forward, please.”

“Go!” Sandkit hissed in his ear. “Everyone’s watching!”

Ravenkit managed to pull himself to shaky limbs, stumbling forward and trying not to think about the dozens of eyes on him.

Sandkit noticed a snicker from Dustpaw.

Once Ravenkit had gotten in place, Bluestar gave a nod. “Thank you. From this day forth until you receive your warrior name, you shall be known as Ravenpaw.” Her eyes locked on another member of the crowd. “Dappletail.”

The tortoiseshell began to make her own move through the crowd, her face kept purposely blank. Sandkit’s heart lifted as Dappletail trotted quietly past her. Perfect! Dappletail hadn’t been herself since Cricketpaw and Thrushpelt. And Ravenkit - Raven paw , now - could certainly use a mentor as patient and noble as her.

As she sat beside him, Sandkit saw him continuing to shake, but Dappletail quickly wrapped her tail around him. Something about the gesture seemed to calm them both.

“This young apprentice needs a kind and just mentor,” Bluestar continued. “I can think of no better cat to help him grow and learn than you.”

“Thank you, Bluestar,” Dappletail said, that strange ice that had lingered in her voice for far too long suddenly absent. “I promise to teach him everything I know.” As she spoke, she turned to touch her nose to Ravenpaw’s, his eyes sparkling with a comforted relief.

It was the first time in about a moon that Sandkit had seen him smile so genuinely.

“Sandkit.”

That rush again. Her heartbeat kicked her to her paws, stepping in rhythm with the violent drum inside her chest. Did she stand up too fast? Did anyone notice? They were all looking at her, watching her every move.

Tigerclaw was among them. He must have been.

But looking now would look foolish at best, and desperate at worst. This was the moment! She had to go in with her head held high, every step pointed towards her leader, echoing great respect.

Sandkit. Time to say goodbye to that name.

Everything was about to change.

Bluestar’s words seemed distant in her ears.

“From this day forth until you receive your warrior name, you shall be known as Sandpaw.”

The pause was horrible. It only lasted as long as her brothers’ had. And consciously, she knew it. But the agony. The suspense.

If her heart beat one time too many, the pressure may just pop her.

“Whitestorm.”

Sandpaw had to do a double take. Whitestorm? Him? Graykit’s father, Willowpelt’s mate?

No. Not just that.

Bluestar’s only kin. Her kits were gone, her mate was gone. Her sister, her parents, even her father’s second litter…all gone.

Whitestorm was a great warrior. There was no doubting it. But he was also a legacy.

And, Sandpaw had to admit…the idea of stealing him away from Graykit excited her.

Maybe she didn’t need Tigerclaw.

She turned to face Whitestorm as he approached, sitting beside her and looking up at Bluestar with determined eyes that could pierce the soul.

Bluestar’s voice was clearer the second time. “Whitestorm. You have been a strong warrior for many moons. I am proud of the cat you’ve become, a wise and strong-willed warrior. I have every faith in your ability to mentor this young apprentice.”

Whitestorm nodded. “Thank you, Bluestar,” he said, his voice, normally so quiet and calming in the nursery walls, now boomed loud through the camp. “She is in good paws.”

He turned to Sandpaw, a gentle confidence shining in his yellow eyes. She leaned up, touching her nose to his.

The adrenaline in her body all moved at once, threatening to send her flying with excitement.

“Ready for adventure?” Whitestorm asked, pulling back to give her a sharper look.

She nodded. “Born ready.”

“Dustpaw! Ravenpaw! Sandpaw!”

The calls from her clanmates rang out like a song in her ears.

She could hear Goldenflower’s voice above the rest.

The crowd thinned fairly quickly after Bluestar left her perch, but she didn’t go back to her duties right away, instead approaching the new apprentices and their mentors with a warm smile. “Always a good day when new apprentices are named,” she said with a purr. “Do hope I didn’t make you wait too long. I was waiting on Tigerclaw. I thought he’d want to see this.”

Whitestorm nodded. “I remember Darkstripe’s ceremony. Can’t imagine if I missed it.”

“Speaking of,” Dappletail started, “where is the big brute? He wouldn’t miss this, would he?”

“Not for the world.”

Sandpaw’s heart leapt into her throat again as Tigerclaw’s words cut through the air. He was here! She could feel an eager smile on her face, wanting nothing more than to run over and press her face into his tabby fur.

But she didn’t want to look desperate. He’d be proud of her, but showing him how much she’d grown would be her best chance to make an impression.

His paws nearly thundering on the forest floor, he made his way to Redtail and Dustpaw, pressing his nose to his son’s head. “Look how big you’ve gotten,” he said wistfully. “Make me proud, alright?”

Dustpaw nodded. “We will, papa!”

“Do you want to come out on our first outing?” Sandpaw asked, hoping her tone sounded more hopeful than desperate. “It’s our first time on the territory, after all!” She hoped the intent came through, thinking of the recent scare from those WindClan kits getting free and running loose on the moors. Compared to that, she and her brothers were very well behaved. Tigerclaw should be eager to see this! The once-in-a-lifetime moment for not only them, but him, as well! His own kits, and even if he and Goldenflower had more some day, they would always be his first.

Sandpaw was the firstborn, as well.

She was his first.

But he shook his head. “I’m afraid I just got back. I could use a rest. You all go on without me.”

Sandpaw’s disappointment was immeasurable. But she tried not to let it show.

Whitestorm clearly noticed, giving her a bump with his shoulder as Tigerclaw walked off. “So. What do you want to do first?”

“Battle training!” Dustpaw interjected. “Teach me how to fight! I wanna be there next time you fight off those fish-breath mouse-hearts!” As he spoke, he threw a few mock blows in the air, flashing his claws in an uncoordinated flurry.

Redtail chuckled. “Alright, quick-paws. Calm down. We’re not putting you in a war just yet. You’ve at least got to see the territory, right?”

Dustpaw almost looked upset.

Weirdo.

Dappletail nodded. “Well, let’s be off, then. Lots to see! Wet your whiskers, as they say.”

The territory was big.

In Sandpaw’s wildest dreams, she hadn’t imagined it looking like this. Winding roots that carved narrow paths through the trees, massive trunks leading up to tangling branches that obscured the sun from most angles, snagging brambles, rustling leaves, soil looser than in camp, where it was packed tight like rock from generations of pawsteps drumming on the camp floor…

Not to mention the sounds. Tiny chittering and scurrying. Bird song ringing in sweet melodies through the newleaf air. Even the rustle of leaves. And the smell! So strong she could taste it, a thousand different flowers and leaves and scent-markers and prey-scent, all swirling around in her head.

It was a lot.

“So?” Whitestorm asked, giving her a small nudge. “What do you think?”

“It’s huge,” she said breathlessly.

Whitestorm chuckled. “It sure is. And all of this, every leaf and twig, is ThunderClan.”

“Won’t we get lost?” Ravenpaw asked, his voice shaking a little.

“Not if you stick close,” said Dappletail.

The jab was clearly meant for Dustpaw, who had already run off three times by now. Redtail was already struggling to keep up, and didn’t seem too happy about it.

Still, Sandpaw took the note to heart.

“You’ll get the hang of the territory, eventually,” Whitestorm assured her. “Your paws will learn these paths, and it will be like second nature. For now, we go together.”

Ravenpaw blinked. “Where are we going, today?” he asked. “Are we going to see the whole territory?” He almost looked scared.

Dappletail shook her head, a light smile on her face. “Not today. We’ll head to the ShadowClan border, show you the Great Sycamore and Snakerocks, and then…”

“Battle training?” Dustpaw chimed in, his face lighting up.

“Hunting,” Redtail said. “It’s a skill you’ve got to get good at, so we’re going to start off early.”

Dustpaw huffed. “But I wanna be a warrior! And warriors fight! And they win! I wanna be the strongest cat in the territories!”

Sandpaw’s eyes narrowed. “Warriors also hunt,” she pointed out. “They hunt more often than they fight, actually. Just because you never hear stories about great hunters doesn’t mean it’s not a big part of clan life.”

“Very true!” Whitestorm said. “Feeding the clan is one of the most noble duties a warrior has. Making sure no one goes hungry is a massive part of clan life.”

That warm feeling rose in Sandpaw’s chest again as Whitestorm smiled at her. She did it! She got it right! Whitestorm was proud of her!

“It sounds boring,” Dustpaw argued. “I wanna be one of those great warriors they tell stories about, not some stupid mouse-chasing nobody.”

Dappletail shot him a look. “Warrior life isn’t about glamor and stories. It’s about survival, and ensuring a good life for your clanmates. That means marking borders, fetching moss, cleaning nests, fixing dens, pulling ticks, and yes, hunting. Do you really think the heroes of those stories you were told never hunted for their elders or changed the moss in the nursery? Being a clan cat is about far, far more than blood and battles.”

Redtail nodded. “Life is about living, not just beginning and end.”

Ravenpaw’s face lightened a little. “Can we hunt voles?” he asked. “Frostfur said they’re her favorite. I want to get her one!”

Sandpaw nodded. “I want to catch something for One-eye! She’s been so sad lately. I want to cheer her up!”

“And Rosetail!” Ravenpaw added. “I want to get her something, too!”

Dappletail couldn’t help but laugh. Sandpaw smiled. It was nice to see her laughing again.

The air in camp had been so somber lately.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Dappletail said. “For now, let’s check out that border. It’s best you know where it is.”

“And I expect you all to behave yourselves,” Redtail said, glaring at Dustpaw. “The Thunderpath is dangerous, and so is Snakerocks. No running off ahead of everyone. I’m fully prepared to take you back to camp if you can’t handle a simple walk out to the border.”

Dustpaw pouted, but said nothing.

They came across the Great Sycamore first.

The trunk was thicker than Runningwind was long, nose to tail tip, whiskers included. It stretched high into the sky, breaking past the woven canopy above and reaching sturdy branches out in all directions, reaching higher up than some birds flew.

Dizzying. That was the word. As Sandpaw looked up from the base of the trunk towards the top, reaching out towards the sky, she felt her legs shake and her balance waver.

Stand strong. Don’t show them weakness.

“Look how tall it is!” Dustpaw said, bouncing around on his paws.

‘Tall’ didn’t do it justice.

‘Absolutely massive’ may have come closer.

“Bet you could see clear across RiverClan from up there,” Ravenpaw said.

Sandpaw’s stomach flipped. He wasn’t scared a bit! He sounded in awe of the behemoth, stretching all the way to StarClan with its mighty branches.

The thought of sitting at the top made her feel sick.

“C’mon!” Dustpaw chirped, running ahead of the group again. “Bet I can go higher than you, Sandpaw!”

“Climb it?” she asked, trying not to sound utterly bewildered. “What if you fall? You’d snap your neck clean off your body!”

“A lot of apprentices learned to climb on this very tree,” Redtail noted, making no effort to stop his rowdy apprentice this time. “The branches are far more stable than any other tree in the forest. The ones at the base are thick enough to take the weight of twenty cats. I’m fine with you three trying it out a little.”

Ravenpaw beamed, stepping up. “Wait for me, Dustpaw!” he called, picking up his pace. “I wanna climb, too!”

“Don’t go too far!” Dappletail called out after him. “It’s your first time, I don’t want you falling!”

Sandpaw didn’t budge a whisker.

Whitestorm turned to her. “You want to try?”

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on Ravenpaw as he began his scramble up under Dappletail’s instruction. “It’s too big. I don’t…I don’t want to.”

“That’s fine,” he said, his tone gentle as he sat beside her.

She gulped. “But I don’t want to be a mouse-heart, scared of a tree.”

Whitestorm shrugged. “It’s intimidating. And it’s your first time out. No cat will blame you if you don’t want to join.”

“Dustpaw will.”

He chuckled. “Ah, well. I suppose that’s his problem, then. But…just in case, we can tell him you just wanted to watch, save your energy for hunting. Alright?”

She turned to look at him, a warm smile creeping up to his eyes.

She sighed. “Yeah. Thank you, Whitestorm.”

He paused, turning back to the tree, watching as Ravenpaw surpassed Dustpaw in their little climbing contest. “What are you most looking forward to?” he asked. “Hunting seemed to catch your eye.”

Sandpaw nodded. “I’ll be honest, I’m excited about battle training, too. It’s something we’ve been talking about for moons. But mostly, I just…” She paused, looking at the ground beneath her. “I want to be good at something, you know? I want to be a good warrior. Whatever that means, I want it.”

“You’ll do great,” Whitestorm assured her. “No one doubts that. I’m just trying to find us the path to get there.”

Sandpaw didn’t reply.

If no one doubted her…then where was Tigerclaw?

“Alright, you two!” Redtail called out. “Come on down, we’ve got more ground to cover!”

Sandpaw looked to see Dustpaw three branches up, trying to keep up as Ravenpaw made his way to a fourth. He blinked, looking down at Redtail before his eyes caught on Sandpaw’s. He beamed. “Sandpaw! Look how high up I am!” he yelled, walking out from the trunk and further along the branch.

Sandpaw could feel her fur standing on end as the branch wobbled slightly. “C’mon, get down!” Her voice shook a little.

Dustpaw snickered. “You scared?” he teased. “What if I do…this?” As he spoke, he bounced forward, putting his weight on an unsteady part of an already thin branch.

He laughed, seeing something in her face. “You scaredy-mouse! It’s not even that high up!”

Sandpaw huffed. “Just get back down so we can go to Snakerocks, already!” she barked, putting more courage and anger into her voice than she really had, hoping it would cover her fear. “You’re playing around like kits!”

Dustpaw shrugged, unbothered by the comment. But Sandpaw couldn’t help but notice Ravenpaw’s eyes flash for a moment.

She froze. Did she hurt him?

She tried to give an apologetic look, but it was clear he didn’t see it, making his way down the tree with his tail between his legs.

That feeling in her stomach was one of the worst. She despised it with every hair on her pelt.

Failure.

What she’d give to never feel it again.

“Come along,” Dappletail said, motioning the group with her tail. “Snakerocks is just down here.”

“No running ahead,” Redtail ordered. “This isn’t a safe place to be on your own.”

Following the mentors down the slope, Sandpaw tried to catch Ravenpaw’s eye, show him she was sorry.

But he didn’t look at her, just kept his gaze fixed forward and his head held low.

She felt awful.

“ This is Snakerocks?” Dustpaw asked, a harsh twist in his tone. “It’s just a bunch of rocks. What’s all the fuss about?”

“Snakes,” Redtail said plainly. “Adders, ones with harsh venom that can kill. Keep close, alright?”

Sandpaw’s eyes scanned the clearing. Stones piled against each other like rolling hills, with cracks between them leading into darkness. A cat could never fit in those. But snakes? A perfect spot.

She wanted to ask why they were there. But she had failed enough today.

Dustpaw crept forward, looking down into one of the cracks. “Is there prey down in these?” he asked.

Dappletail’s pelt bristled. “Don’t stick your nose in there!” she yelped, pushing him back. “Prey comes out sometimes, but most often, it’s a snake! And I’m not letting you get bitten on your first outing!”

“Can you eat them?” Ravenpaw asked, his voice back down to its usual volume. “The snakes, I mean. Are they edible?”

“Redtail just said they’re poisonous, mouse-brain!” Dustpaw snapped. “Can’t you listen? They’ll kill you! You wouldn’t last a day on your own!”

Ravenpaw looked like he was about to cry.

But Whitestorm cut in. “Venom and poison aren’t the same thing,” he said. “The snakes are venomous, meaning a bite could kill you. But they aren’t poisonous. They’re safe to eat. They’re hard to hunt, though. You’ve got to keep your wits about you and your senses sharp. A snake is faster than a cat, and unlike most prey, they can fight back. It takes a skilled hunter to catch one.”

“And you really don’t want to mess it up,” Redtail added. “A failed pounce could mean a bite. So always come with a patrol, or at least a partner, when you’re out here. Understand?”

Sandpaw nodded, seeing Ravenpaw do the same. Dustpaw just stared through him.

“Let’s get out of here, then” Dappletail suggested. “No reason to linger where the snakes lie.”

Redtail nodded. “To the Thunderpath, then. Again, I don’t want anyone running off.”

Sandpaw waited a moment, hoping to fall in beside Ravenpaw. But as the patrol started off, something caught her eye.

A flash of gold in the midday sun.

She turned to see something. A shape.

A cat.

Their back was to her, poking at the ground with a single paw as a speckled golden tail swayed like water behind them.

Sandpaw’s heart jumped. She didn’t recognize that cat.

Either way, they were in danger.

“Hey!” she called out. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“Sandpaw?” Whitestorm said, turning over his shoulder as the patrol carried on. “Is something wrong?”

She turned to him. “There’s a cat!” she said, pointing with a paw.

Whitestorm followed her direction. “Where?” he asked. “I don’t see anyone.”

Sandpaw blinked, turning back. Sure enough, the cat was gone.

“Th-they were right there!” she insisted.

“Probably a ShadowClan cat,” Whitestorm decided. “Most likely high-tailed it out when they heard you.”

“ShadowClan?” Dappletail echoed, having followed Redtail up a little further. “Where?”

“Sandpaw saw someone,” Whitestorm explained. “Seems they’re gone now. But keep an eye out.”

Dappletail blinked. “Are you sure? What did they look like?”

Dustpaw scoffed. “She’s probably just lying for attention.”

Sandpaw huffed. Little weasel!

“They were gold colored,” Sandpaw insisted. “Kinda spotty-speckled, like Brindleface or Speckletail. But it wasn’t them.”

“Don’t know any ShadowClan warriors like that,” said Redtail. “Still, probably best to stay alert for trespassers. It may have been someone else.”

“RiverClan?” Ravenpaw asked.

Redtail shook his head. “I find it hard to believe that a RiverClan warrior would be all the way out here. At Snakerocks, of all things. And without us noticing until now.”

“Could have been a kittypet,” Dappletail thought aloud. “Or a loner. It’s uncommon out here, but not unheard of.”

Whitestorm nodded. “Maybe. We’ll let Bluestar know when we get back to camp, yes?”

“Sounds good,” said Redtail. “For now, we’ve got a border to check and some prey to hunt.”

Chapter Text

The fresh-kill pile was a little low today.

Not in danger, but it was clear more cats had been eating than had been hunting. But the rain was drying up, and gradually, more cats were willing to risk the rain for the sake of the clan.

Still, Rusty was hungry. No amount of picking over the pile was going to change that. But a rustle of the gorse at the camp entrance told him that all would change soon enough.

He looked up to see Rushtail, a young weasel and a healthy looking rat in his jaws, followed shortly by Tallstar, carrying his own two catches, a couple of brightly colored birds. A great haul for the day, and their bright faces told Rusty things were looking up on the moors.

Rushtail gave an extra nod to Rusty as he approached, leaving his catches on the pile. Rusty smiled back. “Good hunting?” he asked.

“Very,” said Rushtail, his voice light. He was in a good mood. “With the warmer weather, prey’s coming back to the moors. Also, it's just nice to get out and get my claws to work again, after being cooped up so long. I’m sure you know the feeling.”

Tallstar gave a purr, adding his own efforts to the pile. “Speaking of! Good to see you out and about, Rusty. You feeling better?”

Rusty nodded. “Kinda just felt like I needed some fresh air. Don’t worry. No more…adventures. I’ve had my fill.”

Tallstar chuckled. “I’m sure you have.” He paused, flicking his tail towards Rushtail. “Great work out there today. Go rest up. You’ve earned it.”

Rushtail gave a curt nod. “Think I will. I’ll go take a nap, but tell Deadfoot I’m up for dusk patrol if he needs an extra set of paws.”

With a last smile and twitch of the whiskers to Rusty, the pale warrior padded off towards the long grass that served as the warriors’ den, off to see if his usual patch of clovers was available that day.

Tallstar turned his attention to Rusty. “Have you eaten? I’m going to have something, myself. Care to join me? We can sit and talk, if you’d like.”

Rusty beamed. “I’d love to!” Tallstar was always too busy to stop by, recently. But a talk in this rare quiet moment sounded nice.

“Well, pick something out, then. I’m going to get this lapwing over to the elders’ den, I know they’re Plumclaw’s favorite. Grab something and find a spot, alright?”

Rusty gave a nod and a hum of agreement, watching as Tallstar took one of the birds he had just caught, one with shimmering green feathers, and trotted over to the elders’ den.

Rusty looked back at the pile. What was good? He liked the birds, but they all tasted a little different. Wrenflight had explained it. Something about their diets? Nuts versus berries or bugs or fish…

That big round bird that Tallstar just brought in looked nice, though. A bit big, but not massive, perfect for two hungry cats to share, he thought. Besides, the feathers were certainly striking. And so he picked it up, tasting the fresh air of the moors still clinging to its plumage, and carried it with him, settling in a dry spot beneath the heather tree that hung over the nursery.

True to his word, Tallstar joined him shortly, taking his spot and tucking his paws beneath him.

“I see you snagged that partridge,” he said with a purr. “Quite proud of that catch, if I’m honest. Not as young as I used to be, but I’ve still got my eye for hunting.”

Rusty blinked. How old was Tallstar? Tiny was Rusty’s senior by a while, but…he couldn’t have been that old. Certainly not elder age, yet. Senior warrior? Rusty wasn’t sure how to ask.

Tallstar turned to him, ripping feathers off the partridge with his claws. “How are you?” he asked. “I feel like I haven’t gotten to speak with you much.”

Rusty shrugged. “Fine enough. Lots of treatments, lots of resting. But Barkface says I’m recovering well. Says my eye can stay, at least.”

Tallstar nodded. “Good to hear.” He paused, looking down at the bird in front of him. “Do you like it here? I’d understand if you’d want to go back to your Twolegs after everything that happened, but…”

Rusty shook his head. “I want to stay,” he said, his voice sure. “I can tell this is…where I belong. Out here, with all of you. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

Tallstar gave a warm smile. “I’m glad. It’s great to have you both here.”

An awkward pause hung between them as the topic quickly ran dry.

Rusty took a bite of the partridge. It was a little different from the other birds he’d eaten, though he wouldn’t be able to explain why.

Tallstar cleared his throat. “Tiny said you asked to be a tunneler,” he said. “Is that still what you’re thinking?”

Rusty swallowed before speaking. “I think so,” he said. “It sounds a lot more interesting to me. The running is fine, but tunnel work sounds more…involved, if that makes sense? I dunno. Is that…okay?”

“Of course,” Tallstar said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re taking an interest. I’m more than happy to have you in the tunnels, if that’s where you want to be.” His gaze shifted. “My parents were tunnelers, you know.”

Rusty blinked. “Really? But you were a moor-runner, weren’t you?”

Tallstar nodded. “Still am. My predecessor, Heatherstar…she decided to close the tunnels. I saw my clanmates struggle as the niches they felt best in disappeared overnight. I wanted to give that back to my clan. And I think it’s been a good change, a change worth making.”

Rusty paused. “Palebird,” he mumbled.

Tallstar froze, jolting a little in his place. “What was that?”

“Palebird,” Rusty said again, louder this time. “That was her name, wasn’t it? Your mother?”

Tallstar almost seemed to look right through him. “Yes, that was her. Who told you?”

Rusty looked down at his paws, sighing heavily. “It’s…a bit weird. But I promise it’s true. You’ll believe me, won’t you?”

Though he wasn’t looking at Tallstar, he could hear the serious look on his face. “Of course. I just want to know.”

Rusty swallowed. “I think I died.”

He could feel Tallstar bristle beside him.

And yet he continued. “When the fox got me…I woke up in a field of stars. I think that was StarClan. And I spoke to someone. He…said he was an old friend of yours. He told me it wasn’t my time, and…a lot of other weird stuff.”

A tense air hung for a moment. “You spoke with StarClan?” Tallstar asked, his voice quiet and a little breathless. Regaining his composure, he asked the question on his tongue. “Who did you see?”

“Real curly cat, gray and white and fluffy like a sheep. He said his name was Woollytail.” Rusty turned to look at Tallstar, noticing the bewilderment in his eyes. “He said he was your mother’s second mate, after your father died. He’s Flytail and Wrenflight and Rabbitear and Bristlebark’s father…isn’t he?”

Tallstar nodded a little, though his gaze was wandering. “Yes. That’s him. Woollytail was…a good warrior. I feel a little ashamed that I didn’t respect him enough while he was alive.” He gave a sad laugh, then turned to Rusty. “What did he have to say?”

“He told me to give you his regards. But he didn’t say too much about you. He seemed pretty scatterbrained, concerned more with this…prophecy he gave me.”

Tallstar’s eyes lit up. “A prophecy!” he echoed. “One from Woollytail, at that! Aren’t you special?”

Though the question went unasked, Rusty knew Tallstar was thinking it.

“He told me ‘Only storms can catch the wind, for you cannot hunt with claws outstretched’. Does that…mean anything to you?”

Tallstar thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t say it does. But StarClan works in mysterious ways. It is interesting to be given a prophecy about wind, though. And storms? Catch the wind…with claws outstretched…” His gaze wandered again as his voice trailed off.

Rusty shrugged. “He said it’d make sense when it’s time for it to make sense. But it’s still really confusing. Just can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Understandable,” Tallstar said, turning back to him with a more focused look. “You certainly got a puzzler. Try not to fret too much on it, but hold on to it. Prophecies like that often mean you’ll need their wisdom.”

Rusty paused. “He also said some weird stuff. Like…he called me a ‘second chance to someone who needed one’. And he called me a molly, I think. Do you know what any of that was about?”

Something flashed in Tallstar’s eyes. And yet, he turned away. “I’m not sure,” he said.

Rusty knew that was a lie.

When Tallstar turned back to him, that spark still lingered. “A bit of a jump in topic, but…have you given any thought to your name?”

Rusty blinked. “My name? What about it?”

“Well, you’re going to be an apprentice pretty soon, aren’t you?” His whiskers twitched a little. “You’ll be a -paw before you know it. Tiny’s picked his own name. What about yours?”

Rusty paused. “Honestly, I haven’t thought too much about it. I thought you’d just pick something.”

Tallstar shrugged. “Not many cats get to choose their own name, though I’d certainly let them if they asked. So I thought I’d give you the chance, if you wanted it. Would you want to be Rustypaw? Or…Rustpaw, I suppose?”

Rusty looked at the ground. “I…really don’t want to, if I’m honest,” he admitted. “Rusty is my housecat name. I want to be a warrior, like you. Leave Rusty behind, you know?”

Tallstar nodded. “I do indeed. How about something more…vivid? ‘Fire’ could suit you well.”

Rusty chuckled a bit. “As long as it’s not ‘Fox’ or something like that. ‘Foxscar’ or ‘Deadeye’ or…nothing like that.”

“Gotcha,” Tallstar said with a nod. He paused for a moment, his mind churning. “What about ‘Finch’?”

Rusty blinked. “Finch? Like…like the bird?”

“Like the bird. Beautiful red feathers, twittering birdsong, small but tenacious…” He flashed a bright smile. “What do you think? Finchpaw?”

Finchpaw. Something about it struck a chord in him.

Past him.

An old name, from an old friend.

Cozy. Familiar.

He nodded without thinking. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I like that. Finchpaw.”

“Then it’s yours.” Tallstar chuckled a little. “Soon, though. Not today. Little birds still have lots of growing to do.”

Little bird.

Woollytail called him that.

Palebird called her that.

“We have to find a better place to meet.”

Tiny gave a coy smirk. “Good to see you, too, Leopardfur. So good to know you’ve been concerned about me. WindClan is well, my brother’s healing nicely. I’m sure it kept you up at night.”

Leopardfur huffed, flicking water off her whiskers. “It’s hard enough sneaking out with Rippleclaw on watch, of all cats. He’d sooner have my tail than let me out alone. I can’t cross the bridge, either, no matter who’s on it. The only place I could be going is here. So I have to cut through ThunderClan territory to get here. You’ve got it easy.”

“I figured this was the only place we could meet,” Tiny pointed out. “Neutral territory, and whatnot.”

“Still doesn’t mean we’re supposed to. We’re flaunting the Code to be here.”

Tiny shrugged. “If you want a better meeting spot, I’ve got a bad idea.”

“Oh, do tell.” Though her words were teasing and her tone harsh, her face betrayed a playful intrigue that flashed like fangs in the night.

“How easy is it for you to get to the Treecut Place?”

Leopardfur blinked, her face shifting. “Uh…not nearly as bad. There’s a bridge that could take me there, but it’s outside of clan territory so we don’t guard it.” She paused. “I’ll be honest, though, I have no clue as to how in StarClan’s name you’d even manage it. It’s across not just all of WindClan but all of ThunderClan, as well. Unless you’re betting on your charm to save you there?”

Tiny chuckled. “I told you it was a bad idea. We’ll meet there next time, four days from now.”

Leopardfur just stared at him for a moment, trying to guess what he was talking about. He could feel that coy smile creeping back onto his face.

Eventually, she relented. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I am not.”

A laugh bubbled up from her, but she quickly covered it with a practiced serious face. “Alright, enough of that. Down to business. Sure hope you’ve got something good, because I’ve only got more info on the basics.”

“The basics are important,” Tiny noted. “You could have the clue that saves this whole operation.”

Leopardfur shrugged. “I suppose. I asked Mudfur. He didn’t ask too many questions when I asked. I think he knows me well enough to know I’d never tell him.”

“You’re friends?”

“He’s my father.”

Not the answer Tiny expected. He hoped his face didn’t give too much away.

He cleared his throat. “What did he tell you?”

“The basics, as I said. Thistleclaw’s body was found at Sunningrocks, with his throat slashed. A lot of other wounds on his body, but the throat is what did him in.”

“Could it have been an accident, then?”

Leopardfur shook her head. “A lot of stuff to say otherwise. For one, no fur in his claws. Almost like they had been picked clean. Secondly, he was at the very edge of the water, so he fell in the shallow part of the water after his death. With no signs of him being moved, he had to have been lured to the water’s edge to end up like that. And he was a big cat, so there would have been signs. He was found in a patch of watermint, which grows right up on the river’s edge like that. It’s possible he could have been lured there to seek out those herbs, is my only thought.”

Tiny paused. “What’s watermint used for?”

Leopardfur shrugged, averting her gaze. “I wouldn’t know. I really can’t keep all that in my head. And I didn’t ask Mudfur. Should have, but I didn’t.”

“Don’t worry too much,” he assured her. “May be worth looking into, though.” He paused, flashing another smile. “Speaking of, I may have a lead.”

Leopardfur’s ears pricked up at this. “Well, let’s hear it!”

“Morningflower and I ran an errand for Spottedleaf, recently. And while I was in ThunderClan, I spoke to Bluestar about Thistleclaw. She had a few…choice words.”

Leopardfur’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell her what we’re doing, did you?” The fear in her voice shook her entire body.

But Tiny shook his head. “Bluestar and I actually have some…history. I met her and Thistleclaw when I was younger. Me asking about him made a lot of sense, from that perspective.”

Leopardfur let her pelt lie flat. “Good. Of all cats, I don’t want her in on this.”

Tiny nodded. “Understandable. But she did have some valuable information. For one, she wasn’t all that fond of Thistleclaw. As a leader, of course, she blamed RiverClan. But her personal opinion was that Thistleclaw was asking for it. A violent cat, always willing to start a fight. If he was killed by a RiverClan patrol, it’s because he started a fight he couldn’t win. Her words, not mine.”

Leopardfur’s gaze narrowed. “Not a lot of kind things to say about her own warrior?” she asked, venom in her words.

“I get the impression that they had a bad past. Thistleclaw’s mate was apparently Bluestar’s sister. After her death, the two of them blamed each other.”

A spark of something flashed in Leopardfur’s eyes. “Interesting.”

Tiny blinked. “You don’t suspect Bluestar, do you?” he asked, a little bewildered. The thought churned his stomach.

Leopardfur shrugged, a nasty smile on her face. It only made Tiny feel worse. “Who knows? Maybe she was sick of the truce, and decided to take two minnows in the same swipe.”

Tiny swallowed hard. “The truce was Bluestar’s idea, though. Wasn’t it? The first thing she did as leader.”

Leopardfur sneered at this. “Thundercats are all the same. She could have just as easily decided she wanted the land all to herself.”

Tiny paused, mulling this over. Was it possible? Did he just…not want to believe it?

Still, he had more to report. And so he shook his head clear of the thoughts and continued.

“Anyway. According to Bluestar, Thistleclaw wasn’t in too good of a mood that day. Had a massive argument earlier.”

Leopardfur blinked. “Who with? What about?”

“Lionheart and…Whitestorm, I believe. His son. About some trouble Darkstripe had caused on patrol. Apparently, they had to be split up, it got so heated. And later on, he slipped out of camp alone, angry to his ears. Insisted that no one follow him. And didn’t come back alive.”

“A heated debate,” Leopardfur thought aloud. “About…nothing pressing?”

Tiny shook his head. “Not that I could tell. Darkstripe had done something to stir trouble, Thistleclaw encouraged it, but Lionheart yelled at Darkstripe for it. Thistleclaw took Darkstripe’s side, Whitestorm took Lionheart’s side, and it got so bad they had to be separated. Bluestar says that’s the last time Whitestorm and Thistleclaw spoke.”

Leopardfur didn’t respond, clearly lost in thought.

Tiny looked down at his paws. “I’ve heard a lot of…not too pleasant things about him lately. Thistleclaw, I mean.”

Leopardfur’s eyes snapped back into focus. “What kinds of not-too-pleasant things?”

“Aggressive. It’s best he’s forgotten,” Tiny mumbled. “That’s what everyone says, at least. No one wants me to pry. And I feel like there’s something to this story I don’t understand.”

“Snowfur, likely,” Leopardfur said.

Tiny paused. “You know about her?”

Leopardfur shrugged. “Enough. She was killed in an accident on the Thunderpath. Chasing ShadowClan or…something like that. I never heard the full story, if I’m honest.”

Something clicked in Tiny’s head. “Wouldn’t that make a little sense, though? For the river, I mean.”

Leopardfur blinked. “Pardon?”

“If a ThunderClan cat wanted to kill him, it would have been easier to do so on the Thunderpath. Lure him out there, make it look like an accident. But if his mate died there, he’d be more cautious of it. Maybe luring him to Sunningrocks saying there was trouble with RiverClan would be easier from a ThunderClan perspective.”

Leopardfur’s eyes flashed again. “You’ve got a point! Of course, it would be easier to kill him at Sunningrocks from a RiverClan perspective, too. But if it was a ThunderClan issue, they may have been betting on his aggression to lure him out in the first place!”

“So it may not have been about Sunningrocks at all!” Tiny finished the thought.

Leopardfur nodded. “Oh, this is perfect! A better idea of the who and the why, just what we needed!”

“And the how, thanks to your efforts,” Tiny reminded her. “I think we’ve got the next steps set up well, then. I’ll ask Barkface about the watermint, and have a talk about the methods with my…fighting expert,” he said, thinking of Rabbitear. “You see if you can get more on potential motives. Not just those who wanted the truce over with, but anyone with a reason to hurt Thistleclaw or those connected to him.”

Leopardfur nodded. “For the first reason, I do have some names. Worth adding to the pile, at least.”

Tiny nodded. “Hit me.”

“Rippleclaw comes to mind first. He hated the truce, called Crookedstar a coward for letting it happen in the first place. Our very own RiverClan Thistleclaw, if you ask me. Beetlenose, as well, I can’t help but be mindful of. There’s just…something off about him regarding this whole deal. And…Blackclaw. If I had to bet the whole salmon on anyone, it’s him. Sleazy and spiteful. Wouldn’t be surprised a lick to find blood on his paws.”

Tiny nodded. “Any ThunderClan cats catch your eye?”

“Lionheart, of course,” she said with an eye roll. “But I may be a bit biased on that front. There’s other Thundercats that seem happy to be without the truce. Tigerclaw. I’m sure you’ve met him. Darkstripe himself…Mousefur seems more than happy about it, but she would have been an apprentice at the time, so I doubt it. Her brother, as well, for that matter.”

She thought for a second. “Whitepaw, Vixenleap, Grasswhisker, and Silverstream. All would have been too young. Whitepaw wouldn’t have been born yet when it happened, I don’t think.”

“Anyone who’s passed away since?”

“Ah. Thrushpelt, a ThunderClan warrior, I know. Him and…oh, the old medicine cat. Spottedleaf’s mentor…Featherwhisker! That was his name. Both fairly recent. I don’t know too much about them, though. And we’d have…Whitefang and Sunfish. It wouldn’t be them. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, we’ve got work to do. A list to get through, at least.”

“Better than nothing.” Leopardfur gave a determined nod. “Alright. I’ll look into the motive, and you ask about herbs. We’ll meet back in four days.”

“At Treecut Place,” Tiny reminded her.

Leopardfur shot him a curious smile, rising to her paws to head back to RiverClan territory. “For the life of me, I don’t know what you’re getting at. I’ll go with it, but this had better be a really good bad idea.”

Chapter Text

“Up and at ‘em, sleepy head!”

That all-too-familiar voice shot a ringing into Silverstream’s ears, snapping her awake out of a pleasant dream.

StarClan curse whoever invented the dawn patrol.

She grumbled, blinking herself awake, her groggy eyes landing on Sedgecreek’s bright face. She huffed, turning back over in her nest. “Not today,” she protested. “Tell Oakheart I died in my sleep.”

Sedgecreek snickered. “Nope! You’ve dodged it too many times! We’re going on patrol, whether you come willingly or I have to drag you along. Now, up, up, up!”

Heavy paws crashed hard into Silverstream’s side, shaking her violently in her nest. She groaned, turning to kick the tabby warrior off of her. “Fine!” She snapped. “Fine, I’m getting up. And we’ll check the outer border and you’ll talk the whole way, and I’ll come back here and fall asleep again. Like usual.”

Even still half asleep, she could feel a red-hot glare burning into her pelt from the other side of the den. “You’re a warrior now,” Rippleclaw retorted, barely awake himself. “Act like it. You can’t sleep in all day, like some lazy kittypet. Get your tail to work like the rest of us, for StarClan’s sake.”

Silverstream huffed, turning to him. “Oh, yeah? And why aren’t you going on patrol before the sun comes up, oh great leader?”

Rippleclaw’s gaze narrowed. “I just got back from watch, staying up all night to make sure ungrateful cats like you aren’t attacked in your sleep by all of ThunderClan. We all have a part to play in the care of this clan. Least you could do is go check the border once in a while.”

Silverstream sneered at him as he turned over in his nest, flicking his tail at her dismissively.

Sedgecreek snickered. “Come on, then. Let’s not keep Blackclaw waiting. You know how he can be.”

Silverstream rolled her eyes. Of course she had to do dawn patrol with Blackclaw and Sedgecreek. Of all the cats in the clan, she was stuck with the two of them. She’d rather listen to Rippleclaw’s whining all day.

“Fine, fine. I’m getting up,” she mumbled, rising to her paws and shaking out her fur, as if that would wake her up. Following Sedgecreek out into the cold morning air, they padded along to the reed-covered edge of the island camp, where Blackclaw was waiting, his eyes narrowed into cutting slits.

“Well, look who finally decided to roll out of her nest!” he barked. “I was about to leave without you! Both of you!”

Silverstream shot him a look, hoping it came off as adequately sharp. “If you’re so insistent, I’m more than happy to let you slither off on your own. Honestly, I’ve no clue why you’d need three cats to do the work of one if RiverClan’s very own excitable Windhead is so willing to get up at the crack of dawn to go tromp around the tail end of the territory for no good reason!” As she spoke, she turned to Sedgecreek, spitting words in her direction.

But Sedgecreek laughed it off. “You’d expect me to do all that by myself? I need an extra pair of eyes to keep a watch out for trespassers, which is what Blackclaw’s here for. You’re just here so you don’t grow lichen in your nest, sleeping away your youth.”

The fur on the back of Silverstream’s neck rose to meet her temper. “Say that again!” she dared, sliding her claws out and tensing her muscles.

“Knock it off!” Blackclaw snapped. “You’d really rather waste your time bickering and throwing a temper tantrum than doing your duties? Maybe you’d be better off sleeping in the apprentice den, after all!”

He clearly clocked the insulted look in her eyes before continuing. “Let’s get a move on, you two. At this rate, we’ll be lagging behind the dusk patrol.”

Trudging through the mud was the second worst way to spend a morning. The worst was trudging through the mud with Sedgecreek bouncing around about every leaf and twig she saw. Add Blackclaw badgering and nagging her about every little thing she was doing wrong, and it was a unique type of torture she wouldn’t even wish on ThunderClan.

It would take all day to get this mud out of her fur. It would no doubt dull that natural sheen in it, weighing down her soft and fluffy silver pelt, not even complimenting her physique the way the water did when it clung to her after a swim. She kept her tail high, even in the sour mood she was in, purely to keep it from dragging in the sludge at her paws. An issue Sedgecreek clearly wasn’t thinking of, caked to her whiskers in the stuff. No wonder her fur was a mess. It probably had things living in it. And she dared to say that Silverstream would grow lichen?

She groaned as the slimy mess of damp earth seeped into her fur of her paws, squished between her toes, clung to her skin in a disgusting film of filth.

She couldn’t help herself from gagging.

Blackclaw scoffed. “What a fearless warrior she is. Afraid of a little mud, are you?”

Silverstream shot him a look. “This is awful!” she protested. “This stuff will be staining my fur for days, I swear! I wish I’d stayed in my nest.”

“I think it’s kinda fun!” Sedgecreek chirped. “Getting all messy on the job, splashing through the ground! You just gotta lean into it!”

Silverstream rolled her eyes.

“We’re not here to play around like kits!” Blackclaw argued. “We’re here to check the border and refresh the scent markers.”

“Why bother?” Silverstream asked. “Not like any rogues or kittypets will bother trudging through this slop to cross the border.”

Blackclaw sighed, exasperated. “It’s part of the Code! Borders must be checked and marked daily! Don’t you bother learning what you’re supposed to enforce?”

Silverstream shrugged. “Why bother, when cats like you are just going to complain about it, anyway?”

Blackclaw turned away, grumbling to himself, his ears flat against his head and his tail lashing in the mud. “Spoiled brat.”

Silverstream huffed. “If you don’t want me here, I’m going back to camp. No point in sticking around if I’m just going to be following you through mud that goes up to my chest and listening to you whinge all day. I’d rather go fishing.”

Blackclaw bristled, but said nothing as she turned back, still slowed by the sludge at her paws.

Waste of time, as always.

But Sedgecreek bounded up to her. “You can’t just leave!” she whined. “We’re on patrol!”

“Oh, yeah?” Silverstream said with a smirk. “And who’s gonna stop me? You? You’re going to tell Crookedstar that his daughter didn’t want to wade through an entire territory’s length of flooded earth before the sun came up to check the outside border with two other cats who were already doing a fine job on their own?” She scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. Get back to work. As you said, you’ve got a job to do.”

No more objections came from either warrior as she continued back towards camp.

Though a quick dip in the river loosed most of the mud from her pelt, it still stuck to her skin. And the smell! Like rotten fish. Awful in every way imaginable.

But she had at least made herself presentable by the time she returned to camp alone.

Oakheart and Dawnbright stood in the middle of camp, right in everyone’s way, as he gave her orders on how she should spend her time that day.

“Would you happen to be up for a fishing trip?” he prodded.

Dawnbright gave a cheerful nod. “Sure thing! I’ll grab someone and see what we can rustle up.”

He looked thankful, but his expression changed when he met eyes with Silverstream. “Back already?” he asked, worry in his tone. “Where’s Sedgecreek and Blackclaw? Weren’t they with you?”

She shrugged. “It’s awful out there. Mud up to my ears and freezing over. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Are the others still out there?” Dawnbright asked.

Silverstream shot her a look. “Why do you care?” she asked with a sneer.

Dawnbright blinked. “They’re my clanmates. I want to know they’re alright.”

“And we still need to check the border,” Oakheart reminded her.

“They’re still out there, sloshing away in the mud. Don’t worry about them.”

As she spoke, she cast a glance to the fresh-kill pile. A little low, but Dawnbright was just about to head out, wasn’t she? Only a few small fry remained, not worth the time it would take to grab them.

Still, she hadn’t eaten yet. Might as well get something in her belly. And so she changed course, scooping up the least stale loach among the stragglers.

“Hey!”

Oakheart trotted back up to her, that awful authority in his tone. “You can’t just take from the pile! Elders and kits eat first! If you want a fish, go fishing and bring something back like you’re supposed to! Or finish up that patrol you were supposed to be on, for that matter!”

Silverstream didn’t even bother to turn to him. “I’m hungry,” she said, as if she were explaining basic rules to an unruly apprentice. “I just walked a whole lot. In the mud, for that matter. Can’t spare a single loach for a hungry warrior doing her best to keep your clan afloat?”

“ Our clan,” Oakheart snapped. “We all need to do our best for the clan. And that means taking patrols we don’t want, letting the elders eat first, and doing what we can to help the clan thrive, not just survive! Every single one of us has a duty to fulfill to keep the clan happy and healthy. And that includes you! We’re in the middle of a war , in case you’d forgotten!”

“I don’t see how me slogging through the mud and then not eating a single loach will help us triumph over ThunderClan.”

Oakheart’s face began twisting. “You’re a warrior, whether you like it or not! If you eat that loach, you’ll be breaking the Code you’ve sworn to your own father to uphold! The Code is all that differentiates us from the rogues and loners we mark that border to keep away. If you’d rather be on the other side of that border, be my guest.”

Silverstream’s eyes widened dramatically. “What, are you going to kick me out? Abandon your brother’s only kit for one measly scrap of prey? Are you really willing to sink that low?”

Oakheart met her gaze, seeing her intent to disobey him, and huffed. “Fine. But you’d best pick up a hunting patrol later in the day, and you’d best come back with four times what you’ve taken. And in the future, I’d expect better behavior from Crookedstar’s own daughter. You represent RiverClan to a lot of us. You’d do well to remember that and make us proud.”

With one last flick of his whiskers, he turned away to flag down and bother someone else.

What a pain.

Silverstream made quick work of the loach, then made her way back to her nest. It had chilled quite a bit since she got up. She’d have Sedgecreek’s ears for that. It took quite a while for her to get settled again, kneading the moss back into shape and pushing it to conform to her body.

But finally, she was back in her cozy little spot of the world, untethered by the nagging of others or some so-called “duty”.

She had barely closed her eyes when Dawnbright reentered, stepping clumsily over her to reach someone else.

“Hey,” the ginger warrior hissed, prodding a sleeping cat nearby. A little too loud for Silverstream’s taste.

The other warrior roused roughly, jolting awake at the slightest touch. “Wha- who-” Piketooth blubbered aloud, as if he had just been pulled from some dream of battle.

“I need a spotter. Want to go fishing?” Dawnbright’s smile was audible, and obnoxious as could be.

Piketooth paused, blinking himself awake. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll head out with you.” He pulled himself to his paws, looking around the den for a moment before catching Silverstream’s eye. “Hey! You want to come with?” he asked.

Silverstream turned, covering her ears with her paws. “I just got back. Leave me alone.”

“You didn’t even do anything!” Dawnbright countered. “You abandoned the patrol as soon as you got mud on your paws!”

“Let me sleep,” Silverstream retorted, a little louder this time.

A nearby crack of tired bones alerted her to another participant in the conversation. “What’s going on?” Petaldust asked groggily. “Why are we talking so loud?”

“Fishing,” Piketooth explained. “Want to join?”

Petaldust paused, then nodded. “Sure. I could use a walk to wake me up.”

“There’s also apparently a two-cat border patrol stuck in the mud about now if you’d rather,” Dawnbright added. “Silverstream ditched the group for a little extra shut-eye.”

Shut up. Just shut up!

“I can take a border patrol,” Stonefur piped up, rising from his own nest, his voice deep enough to rattle in Silverstream’s skull, as hard as she tried to block him out. “I know Petaldust isn’t exactly fond of the mud. But I’ll pick it up.”

“I’m sure Blackclaw will be grateful,” Dawnbright said. “He and Sedgecreek should still be out there now.”

Stonefur nodded, starting his way out. “I’ll go see if I can find them. Make sure Blackclaw hasn’t slit her throat just yet. Good luck with the fishing!”

Leopardfur rose next from her nest in the back of the den. “I should go get Whitepaw,” she decided. “Battle practice today, I’d promised. Anyone want to spar with us? Show him the ThunderClan battle moves, and all that.” She sounded a little more tired than usual, Silverstream couldn’t help but notice. Probably all that try-hard showboating finally going to her head.

“I’ll come,” Mallowtail offered. “Haven’t had a training day in a bit. It would do me some good to keep my skills sharp.”

“I’ll come, too!” Grasswhisker added, a little too enthusiastically.

Leopardfur chuckled. “Only need one set of helping paws, today. Thanks, though.”

Grasswhisker looked disappointed, but returned to her nest without fuss.

And as the entirety of RiverClan filtered out of the warriors’ den, Silverstream shut her eyes tight to block them all out.

Minnow-brains. Every last one.

The trees above rustled in a gentle breeze that seemed to whisper the name.

Silverstar.

After all this time, all the blood and tears spilt over territory, all the restless days and sleepless nights, all of RiverClan finally took a breath, basking in the glow of their new leader.

Water lapped at the boulder beneath her paws as she looked out at her clanmates, each and every one waiting on her instruction with wide eyes.

She noted many familiar faces, though with the absence of a few, the loss of whom the clan would never truly forget. And yet, new faces, bright and shining with youth, stared up at her, their eyes twinkling like the stars above her as she stood where her father once had so many moons ago.

She froze, not just in the chill, but as the incongruity of the moment suddenly hit her.

What was this? A dream?

“More than a dream.”

The voice made her jump, nearly sending her toppling off the rock as she swiveled her head to see the source of the voice she didn’t recognize. Warm and soft like a mother’s, yet laced with an ice that betrayed a real pain hiding behind her tone. Soft, pale-gray fur greeted the young leader. A tall and leggy build, but with trained muscle beneath a pelt that rippled like water and eyes that shone with a beautiful green-blue.

She smelled like flowers.

And yet something about her was uncanny. A little too perfect in her posture and tone. A little too tall for a cat of her build. Her ears a little too long. Her eyes a little too big.

Silverstream swallowed hard. “Who are you?” she whispered. “What’s going on?”

The stranger smiled, her features shifting unnaturally in place. “My dear. This is a vision of your future.”

Silverstream felt her heart skip a beat. “My future?” she asked, turning out to see those smiling faces of her clanmates, all looking to her for light and direction, to guide RiverClan as their leader.

“Destiny,” the stranger said with a purr, her whiskers brushing Silverstream’s ear.

She blinked. “Are you a spirit? From--”

“Hush, love,” the stranger cooed, wrapping her long tail (a little too long) around Silverstream. “No need to say it. Yes, I am an echo of someone from the past, all that remains of one that fate cruelly took.”

She paused, looking out with those eyes that shone like shafts of light through the water. Her smile faded as she spoke, long teeth flashing past her lips. “I will say now that the future is uncertain, thanks to the meddling of a soul from the past. A fate was changed, and so all of fate was thrown into an imbalance that we have not yet recovered from. But this, what you see before you, is what would have been, had the spirits of old left well enough alone.”

Silverstream looked breathlessly out at her clanmates, her heart pulsing in her ears, the wind rustling the willow trees that flanked the camp.

But those trees were gone. The one her mother and her sisters had been buried beneath, now nowhere to be seen. In its place stood a new tree, one from the other side of the river, with leaves shaped like paws and tiny flowers budding on its branches. The imposing figure towered high, casting a dark shadow on the RiverClan camp. Brilliant white zephyr lilies reached for the sky at its roots, growing tall and nearly glowing in the light that filtered through the leaves of the tree above.

And in the dark of the branches, large birds sat with piercing amper eyes trained on her, their silver feathers shimmering as they sat unnaturally still.

Waiting for something she couldn’t see.

She felt a shiver under the gaze of a dozen predators.

The stranger turned her gaze to follow, spotting the new audience. “Oh, be patient,” she instructed, though it was clear to Silverstream that the words were not meant for her. “You’ll get your chance to meet her. I know you’re very eager, but this is not the time.”

Silverstream turned to her. “Who are they?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.

The stranger cast her a warm smile. “Just some friends. Other spirits, like me. I’ve told them not to interrupt. But I can’t blame them for being impatient. You’re a very important cat.”

Something inside her swelled with pride. She knew it! Even if her clanmates couldn’t see it, StarClan themselves could! And that was all that mattered, in the end.

The stranger saw the glint in her eye and nodded. “Of course we see you, dearest. You’re the heart of the clan, and your destiny is to lead it to greatness. But with meddlers in our midst, we must rise to meet the challenge. And so, we are here to prepare you.”

“Prepare?” she asked. “How so?”

“You cannot lead this clan while the war rages on,” the stranger explained. “And we will help you win it. Set the balance back where it belongs, let the water rinse the blood from the stones, and clear a path for a bright new star to rise.”

The words clicked in her head. “Sunningrocks,” Silverstream said, her tone somber.

The stranger nodded. “It belongs to us. To RiverClan. You know this, as do we. And you, my dear, are the one to reclaim it. It is your destiny to be the hero of our clan.”

Silverstream’s heart lifted in her chest.

Silverstar.

She would be a cat worthy of the name.

Tee-tee-tee-tee!

An alarmed bird call cut into her thoughts, sending cracks through her dream like ice. But it wasn’t broken yet, as the gleams of light began to bounce off the stranger’s shining pelt in odd sparks that seemed to crack through her very frame. Her eyes darted around, looking for the source of the call.

“That damned thing is back!” she cried, her voice cutting harsher and more vile as the cracks grew deeper.

Silverstream looked around through the shards of her dream, trying to catch a glimpse of the shape darting around past her vision.

There!

A small brown bird, zipping through the air in circles around her.

Looking in her eyes. Pleading.

It gave the call again, begging for her to understand.

But at the sound, the raptors in the tree took off, all racing after the tiny thing with a predatory intent. The brown bird changed course, flying up as fast as its little wings could take it, leading a dozen larger birds in a pursuit, still casting off one last call even as it disappeared into the sky above.

The cracks didn’t fade as the bird vanished, instead growing deeper and longer, threatening to pull the dream apart as the ice gave way to freezing water.

The stranger at her side growled a curse, then turned back to her. “Listen. This is very important, and I’m running out of time. I need you to trust me, and pledge that you will do the right thing. Will you?”

Those cracks still splintered across her face, distorting it into something nightmarish.

Whatever that bird did, it was destructive.

Silverstream nodded. “I want to fix this!” she said, pleading with the stranger as her paws began to fall through the ice. “I want to make it all right again. But how?”

“We will show you,” the stranger declared, reaching out to touch her muzzle to Silverstream’s head. “I’ll find you again, don’t worry. I’ll always find my way back.”

As the ice finally gave way and the water rushed in, all Silverstream saw were those eyes, piercing deep into her very soul.

Calling her name.

Silverstar.

Chapter Text

Light pawsteps.

That was the trick.

Sandpaw was horribly aware of her weight as she crept towards her mark, feeling as though she was crashing through the underbrush.

Her tail was the tricky part. Keeping it low enough so it didn’t catch the wind, but high enough that it didn’t scrape the ground.

The mouse wouldn’t know any better, of course. It certainly wouldn’t be giving her any critiques. But this was a binary. Either she caught it or she didn’t.

And she was determined to succeed.

Steady, now. Downwind, just as she liked it. Her bright fur made it harder for her to blend into the background, making sighted prey harder to catch. Dustpaw and Ravenpaw could just disappear into the shadows. She couldn't. But the mouse was preoccupied with a nut or some other scrap of food in the tangle of roots at its paws.

Could she do it from here? She could probably make the jump, but would it be worth it to risk a few extra steps?

The mouse paused, looking up and around, alert for any danger but not yet aware of her.

She was running out of time.

And so she took her chance.

She was a blur of claws and teeth, trained hard on the mouse with intent to kill. The mouse’s ears pricked up and it pivoted fast, scrambling out of the way of pale sandy paws crashing down with claws as long as it was tall.

It darted away, slipping into a crack in the roots faster than Sandpaw could react.

Thistles and thorns!

The feeling of failure wasn’t helped by the sound of laughter from the shadows.

“Dumb mouse outsmarted you!” Dustpaw cackled, his teeth bared in a wicked grin.

Sandpaw sneered at him. “I’d like to see you do better, Mr. ‘I don’t need to learn how to hunt’! It’s not half as easy as it looks! Besides, which one of us has actually caught something, again?”

That mole she had caught on their first day out was lucky. But, she had to admit, it was an easy catch.

Still, she was fully prepared to laud it over Dustpaw until he started pulling his weight on these hunts.

He scoffed. “I don’t need to try, mouse-brain! That’s why I don’t care!”

“Prove it!” she spat.

“Alright, enough!” The booming voice of Whitestorm cut in as he thundered out of the darkness. Beside him, Robinwing stepped out, scanning the scene with eyes and ears.

Redtail was busy today. So Robinwing had stepped in to help with his unruly apprentice. It didn’t seem to matter too much to her that she was the smallest cat on the patrol.

“Hunting takes practice,” she explained. “No cat knows all day one. There’s a lot of nuance to it.”

“And you were close,” Whitestorm said, giving Sandpaw a nod. “Mice can be a little skittery. They’re always more alert than you think.”

Sandpaw could almost hear Dustpaw’s eyes rolling in his skull. “It’s just a dumb mouse,” he said again.

Whitestorm huffed. But before he could speak, Robinwing stepped up. “Perhaps Sandpaw has a point?” she asked, her tail swishing behind her as she thought. “Maybe we should see what the tiger cub has to show us?”

Tiger cub! Sandpaw had to hold her breath to keep herself from blurting out an objection. She’s only saying that because he looks like him.

I’m still his only daughter.

Whitestorm thought on the offer for a second, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s try it out. Dustpaw, you lead the hunt. What can you smell?”

Dustpaw froze a little, then shrugged it off. He sniffed the air. Sandpaw could tell, his whiffs were too harsh. He was only getting sticks and mud like that. “I smell a mouse,” he said.

“The ‘dumb mouse’ that just got away from me?” Sandpaw asked.

Dustpaw huffed. “Give me a second!”

Ugh.

Whitestorm chuckled. “Sandpaw, why don’t you try?”

Sandpaw paused. “Oh. Uh…sure.”

She shuffled on her paws, then opened her mouth just a whisker. The mouth and nose were connected, as Whitestorm had told her. Easier to smell if you can taste it.

As she tasted the air, she parsed what she could, training herself on the smell of the forest to block it out in her mind. The mouse, yes, but something else. Something musty.

“Um…something…” she said meekly.

Robinwing gave a cursory whiff of her own. “Smells like shrew, to me.”

Sandpaw’s eyes fell to the ground. “S-sorry..” she muttered.

Robinwing blinked. “Why?”

Sandpaw’s pelt grew hot. She didn’t have an answer.

“It’s over here,” Whitestorm announced, turning to track the scent. “Alright, then. Dustpaw, stay quiet and follow me.”

Dustpaw fell in beside Whitestorm, following as the white warrior led the patrol to the source of the scent. Sandpaw followed shortly after, with Robinwing bringing up the rear.

“Look,” Whitestorm whispered, motioning the apprentices with his tail. “Do you see it?”

Sandpaw had to shuffle up a little to get a good look, trying to ignore Dustpaw moving to block her.

There, in the underbrush, a tiny bundle of brown sniffing through the leaf litter. Sandpaw noted how small it was, and yet how small its eyes were compared to its head.

“Is it blind?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” Whitestorm said, nearly whispering. “But they can hear and smell very well. That’s why it’s important to keep quiet.”

“Alright!” said Dustpaw, a little too loud for Sandpaw’s tastes. “I’m going in!”

“Stay low,” Whitestorm instructed. “Light on your paws, and make sure your tail doesn’t scrape the ground.”

“I’ve got it!” he insisted. “I don’t need help!”

Sandpaw hoped he could hear her eyes rolling.

She watched as Dustpaw approached. He snuck in with a crouch, eyes locked on the small creature. Its nose twitched a bit and it froze.

It smelled him.

And yet he jumped, shooting out with innate speed and leaping out for the kill.

He came close enough, but didn’t land quite right, his front legs slipping out from under him and sending him crashing down.

He didn’t give up, though, turning to attack the shrew head-on, swiping his claws out at the creature and-

“Augh!”

He jumped, pulling his paw back towards him and scrambling away.

The shrew held on, its teeth sunk hard into his paw, even as he thrashed it around.

“Get it off!” he yowled.

Sandpaw couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of Dustpaw flailing around, bitten by his own prey.

“Stay still!” Robinwing called out. “I’ll get it.”

Dustpaw continued to struggle until she was right beside him, pulling the piece of prey off with her teeth. It squealed as she sank her teeth in, snapping its neck in a quick killing bite.

Dustpaw shot Sandpaw a glare. “Stop laughing! It really hurts!”

“I’ll bet it does,” Whitestorm chided. “Shrews have venom just like snakes do, you know! Not nearly strong enough to kill a cat, but enough to sting you bad.”

Sandpaw’s heart jumped. “Venom?!”

Whitestorm nodded. “Again, not dangerous to cats. But they use it to stun smaller creatures, like lizards, which they eat.”

Dustpaw pouted, nursing his poor foot. “Stupid things,” he mumbled to himself.

Sandpaw turned to Whitestorm. “You know a lot about prey,” she said.

“There’s a lot to learn!” he said with a smile. “Knowing your enemy is half the battle.”

“Speaking of learning,” Robinwing cut in, “I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson about respecting your fellow living beings. Let’s get you back to camp and see if Spottedleaf has anything for shrew bites. And toss this little one on the pile while we’re at it. Alright?”

“Yeah,” Dustpaw mumbled. “Dumb shrew ruined my catch. Told you hunting was stupid.”

Sandpaw sighed. He hadn’t learned anything.

“I’ll take him,” Whitestorm offered. “I’d like to ask Redtail about something, as well.” He nudged Dustpaw with his shoulder. “Come on, champ. Let’s go.”

Dustpaw hobbled along after Whitestorm, shrew dangling from his jaws and his paw held up. Sandpaw had never seen him look so defeated.

Robinwing sighed, shaking her head. “What’s gotten into that one, I wonder,” she thought aloud.

Sandpaw blinked, shuffling uncomfortably in place as the silence grew stale. “Um…are we done?” she asked.

Robinwing turned to her, her face blank. “We can be, if you want. Or we can get some more practice in. Up to you.”

Sandpaw paused. “I’d like to catch something, at least. One shrew isn’t much for the trouble.”

Robinwing nodded, a slight smile on her face. “Well, come on, then! I know a good spot.”

Sandpaw’s heart sank as she saw the spot.

She’d never been, herself. But she knew the name.

“Sunningrocks?” She tried not to let her fear overtake her, but a tremble in her paws was already starting.

Don’t be a mouse-heart.

Robinwing nodded, her smile mischievously bright. “It’s ThunderClan’s right now, after all! Contested or not, we own it!”

Sandpaw’s eyes were wide as she turned to Robinwing. “Isn’t it dangerous to be here?”

But the dusky warrior shrugged. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” With a flick of the tail, she started towards the rocks.

Sandpaw swallowed hard. “I don’t even know any fighting moves!” she protested, picking up her pace to catch up. “What if RiverClan sees us and decides to attack?”

“Then you run,” Robinwing instructed, her tone serious. But something playful still danced in her eyes. “You’re going to end up in a battle around here sooner or later. I’d rather get you comfortable with the space before then. And if Whitestorm or any other cat has any complaints, I’ll take the heat for you. Alright? Don’t worry too much.”

Sandpaw still wasn’t sure.

“Besides,” Robinwing continued. “It’ll do you some good to flaunt the rules.”

Sandpaw blinked. “What?”

Robinwing shrugged. “Every apprentice deserves the chance for a little mischief. You ended up with a bit of a stickler for a mentor, I’ve got to say. So while you’re under my watch, we’re bending the rules.”

Sandpaw felt her mouth hanging open. Was a warrior - a senior warrior, at that - really encouraging her to get in trouble? She snapped her jaws closed. “Why?”

“You’re too stiff, Sandpaw!” Robinwing declared, a warm smile on her face. “You’re so concerned about doing things right and how you’re perceived. Did it ever occur to you that this is the time in your life where you’re supposed to mess up?”

“Supposed to mess up?” Sandpaw echoed, a little bewildered.

Robinwing nodded. “You’re an apprentice. You’re supposed to be learning and growing. Failure, practice, hard lessons…they’re all a part of that. You’re far too young to be this rigid.”

Sandpaw paused, looking down at the ground beneath her. Was Robinwing right? Her logic tracked, but…

Scaredy-mouse!

She could practically hear Dustpaw’s taunting in her head.

Scaredy-mouse! Scaredy-mouse!

She sighed. “Alright,” she said, still a little unsure. “Let’s go.”

Robinwing nodded with a smile. “Come on, you’ll feel better when we get moving.”

Sandpaw followed close as Robinwing led her into the heart of Sunningrocks, the stones beneath her paws cold and smooth, like ice, sending shivers down her spine. The river nearby crashed against the shore, though not with serious force. Dappletail had explained; the less space the water has to go, the harsher it is. Near Sunningrocks, it spread out, making for calmer waters.

The gorge was the dangerous area.

Sandpaw sighed as she watched this tiny corner of the world ebb and flow. Plants swaying in the breeze, water trickling between the stones, the shadows of tiny fish darting beneath the glittering surface of the water, dancing in the midday sun.

Maybe Robinwing was right. Maybe she had been a little tense.

Maybe an adventure outside her comfort zone would do her some good.

This place almost seemed to have a healing effect, after all. She could see why it was so contested.

“Nice, right?” Robinwing said, her voice radiating comfort. “It’s a shame it’s such a bloody battleground, most nights. When the moonlight catches the water and the stars light up the sky, this place is magical. Fuzzypelt and I became mates on a night just like that.”

Her tone grew more somber as she spoke, and Sandpaw understood why. Fuzzypelt wasn’t well, and it was understandable that Robinwing was struggling with the idea of losing her mate. Their last kit had just become a warrior.

Sandpaw had to wonder, did Robinwing think this was the end?

Sandpaw may have seen it that way, if she were in Robinwing’s paws.

Still, there was much to look forward to.

“You excited to meet Frostfur’s kits?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

It seemed to work, as Robinwing’s face lit up at the mention of her daughter. Her grandkits. They would be born any day, now. “Oh, I’m so excited! Spottedleaf said it’s going to be a big litter, and they’ve already been discussing names. Lionheart suggested a ‘Poppy’, but Frostfur wasn’t too keen on naming them after others. Like she was afraid to curse her kits with a dead cat’s name.”

Sandpaw nodded. “I know Frostfur’s been struggling with the pregnancy. Feels like she can’t even breathe, some days. I hope it’s soon.”

Robinwing nudged her with her shoulder. “Hey, you’d best become a warrior fast, then. Maybe you could mentor one of them?”

A laugh bubbled up from Sandpaw’s chest. “Maybe not that fast. But Brindleface and Darkstripe have been talking, haven’t they? Maybe I’ll mentor one of their kits.”

The mention of Brindleface and Darkstripe almost seemed to deflate Robinwing. Still, she held a smile. “Maybe. I’m sure you’ll make a great mentor, either way.”

Sandpaw blinked, her heart sinking again. “I’m sorry, did I…say something wrong?”

Robinwing shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just…” She sighed. A heavy, tense sigh. “I’m not sure about Darkstripe. He’s a fine warrior but…a mate? I’m not sure.” She closed her eyes. “But that’s Brindleface’s choice, not mine. It’s her life. She’s not a tiny kit rolling around the nursery floor, anymore. She’s a full-grown warrior. And if he makes her happy…who am I to stop her?”

Sandpaw’s stomach curled. Did Robinwing really disapprove of Darkstripe that much? He was Bluestar’s kin, after all. She should be proud of her daughter!

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of scuttling paws. Tiny rodent paws, pittering along the rocks below them. She pricked her ears up, turning to scan the base of the rocks.

There. A brown shape, pulling itself out of the water and into a patch of plants, scrambling at the dirt to loose the roots of the plant. Nibbling on the greens, it hadn’t yet spotted the cats watching it with trained eyes.

It was bigger than Sandpaw had expected.

Robinwing’s pelt twitched in anticipation. “Water vole,” she whispered. “You want to take it?”

Sandpaw nodded, moving herself into a hunting crouch. The angle would be skewed. Tackling it from above instead of head-on was an interesting challenge. But an easy enough mark that she would be a fool not to try.

“You can be less gentle, here,” Robinwing instructed, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over Sandpaw’s heartbeat. “It won’t feel your pawsteps. Be more careful about your balance, since you can afford to.”

Sandpaw shifted her weight a little, testing how steady the ground was. Not very, was the answer. The water on the rocks would make the jump a little tricky. But a few steps forward, claws sheathed so as to not scratch the stones, and she was primed to pounce.

Ready the back legs.

Leap with your whole weight.

Lead with your claws, not with your jaws.

Shoulders squared, haunches tensed, tail balancing her on her paws and…

Strike!

The vole didn’t even have time to look up before her claws were in its flesh, sinking to the bone. All of her weight came crashing down on the little creature, forcing all air from its tiny lungs. Before her back legs had even caught up with her, Sandpaw leaned in to bite the vole at the base of the skull, ending its life before it even knew what predator it had just fallen prey to.

Her back paws came down steady as she pulled her weight back on all fours.

“Dead on!” Robinwing cheered, leaping down from the rock to join her. “Cleanest catch I’ve seen in moons! Nicely done!”

Sandpaw shrugged. “I dunno. It was an easy kill.”

Inside, she was glowing.

Robinwing shook her head. “Don’t be so humble! It’s a fine catch, and leaping off those rocks isn’t as easy as you made it look! Many more experienced warriors have done much worse.”

Sandpaw gave a shy smile.

Robinwing scanned the vole, assessing its condition. “It’s a big one, too! Smallear and Halftail might not even have to fight over it.”

“If it’s big enough to share, then Smallear’s just going to give it all to Speckletail,” Sandpaw joked.

Robinwing snickered at the remark. “Well, perhaps we should catch something else, for Halftail, then. You know how they get.”

Sandpaw nodded, looking down at her catch.

Her first catch was an easy one, a blind little mole.

This was a good and sturdy meal, enough for a few cats to share.

The clan would be better, even just for the day, because of her efforts.

She smiled to herself, closing her eyes. “Thank you, StarClan,” she started under her breath. “Thank you for this fresh-kill that has given its life to us.”

Sandpaw held her head high, the large water vole dangling from her mouth as she pushed her way through the camp entrance. Robinwing followed not far behind, holding a few mice by the tails. Sandpaw was definitely improving.

But there was a tense air in the camp. Paws pacing, eyes watching, whispers flying like bees.

Something was definitely going on.

But Redtail was the first to greet them. “Good hunting, you two?” he asked, his voice chipper as always.

Sandpaw couldn’t help but smile as Tigerclaw trotted up behind him, his amber eyes stoic as ever, but his tail held high in a silent greeting.

He was in a good mood.

Robinwing nodded, turning to Sandpaw. “She’s a natural. Caught all this by herself.”

Tigerclaw’s gaze shifted a little, though he was still hard to read. “Even the vole?” he asked. Sandpaw tried not to think too much about the doubt in his voice.

“Sure did!” Robinwing assured him. “We were up on the rocks, and it was down by the water. A clear shot, but a tricky launch. She managed beautifully! Don’t think I could do any better.”

Tigerclaw’s gaze narrowed. “By the water?” His eyes flashed to Sandpaw, his fur bristling. “Don’t tell me you went to Sunningrocks! That’s contested territory! What were you thinking?!”

Sandpaw felt herself shrink. Of all things, she thought Tigerclaw would be proud of her for this. A tricky catch of a large piece of prey. Fresh, fat, and without any help other than a few pointers from the expert. And yet he wasn’t. At first doubting that she had even done it, then scolding her for it.

She felt sick.

But Robinwing stepped in. “It was my call, Tigerclaw. Sunningrocks belongs to ThunderClan. What’s the point in having the land if we don’t use it?”

Redtail’s face twisted as he thought. He turned to Sandpaw. “Was it really her idea?”

Sandpaw swallowed hard, placing the vole at her paws. “Y-yessir. I thought…well, Robinwing said--”

“You didn’t think, you just followed what someone else told you,” Tigerclaw argued. “You went into dangerous territory, and you’ve never even had a day of battle training! Where’s your head at?!”

Redtail cast him a look, halfway between disappointed and fed up. “Go easy on her,” he chided. “She’s not even been training for a moon. Wouldn’t you rather she listen to her seniors?”

Robinwing nodded. “Besides, it all turned out fine. We brought back good prey, and didn’t even so much as see a RiverClan patrol.”

Sandpaw swallowed. Why was she shaking?

Tigerclaw glared at her. Even as big as she was for her age, he still towered over her. “Next time someone gives you such a mouse-brained idea, you say no. Got it?”

Sandpaw nodded, trying to hold back her tears.

He gave her a rough nod, then turned to walk off, his face sour as she felt.

Redtail sighed. “Leave it to Tigerclaw to ruin a good hunt,” he said, shaking his head sadly.

“No good deed,” agreed Robinwing.

Redtail turned to Sandpaw. “You did great. Don’t let him tell you otherwise. Just…Robinwing, try not to take the apprentices into a battleground until they can defend themselves at least a little. Alright?”

Robinwing rolled her eyes. “Oh, we were fine, worry-whiskers. Let her breathe.”

“It’s not her I’m upset with,” he returned. His tone was playful, yet something harsh in his demeanor gave the issue weight. “You’re encouraging dangerous behavior. And with your daughter giving birth as we speak, I’d expect you to be a little more--”

“Frostfur?!” Robinwing blurted out, dropping the mice.

Redtail huffed. “Who else?”

He had barely gotten the words out when she took off for the nursery.

“Hey!” Redtail called after her. “Don’t bug them! Spottedleaf’s busy in there with all the- oh, nevermind.” He hung his head, shaking it sadly. “Herding kits. That’s all I do.”

Sandpaw shuffled in her place, looking down at her vole.

She was so proud of it, and had expected the others to be, as well.

And yet, it had just sparked an argument and gotten her in trouble.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Her thoughts bit back at her, stinging like that shrew bite must have.

Can’t even catch prey right! Even when you’re right, you’re wrong!

“Hey.”

Redtail’s voice was warmer as he pulled up beside her. The tip of his ears only met her brow, but she still felt like a little kit under his gaze.

“It’s a fine catch, really. I’m sure you’ll be a great hunter. You’ve already got a knack for it, it seems.”

She didn’t respond, not daring to look up in her shame.

Redtail sighed. “Come on. Let’s get these all over to the pile. I can think of a few elders who would appreciate this more than Tigerclaw does.”

Sandpaw didn’t want to move.

What she wanted was to disappear.

Chapter Text

The frigid air that hung at the crack of dawn always did wonders to shock Tiny awake, filling his lungs with pure conviction.

And as the early morning air hit his tongue and his pelt shone under the warm apricot hues of the sky, the birdsong ringing so sweetly in his ears, the cold dew falling on his whiskers…something else called out to him.

“Mornin’, Tiny!”

He turned to face Deadfoot, flashing the deputy a kind smile. “Good morning, indeed! Some of the best weather we’ve had in a while,” he noted, turning to gaze at the sky, only a few puffy wisps of clouds hanging on.

Deadfoot gave his own smile. “Ah, isn’t it lovely? You know, on the rainy days, some part of me wishes we lived under the trees. At least then we’d have the chance to dry off after a long day. But waking up to this beautiful view? I’d suffer moons of rain for one day as pretty as this.”

Tiny chuckled. “So I suppose we have you to thank for asking StarClan for our recent weather?” he said with a grin.

Deadfoot rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t flatter me so much. If StarClan listened to my prayers that closely, you really think they’d let ShadowClan get as far down our throats as they have?”

He had a point.

Tiny sighed. “I assume you haven’t come to chat about the weather or politics with your favorite kittypet, though. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, yes,” said Deadfoot. “Dawn patrol. ShadowClan border, to be specific. Could you take it?”

Tiny paused. He normally avoided border patrols. His scent was so new to the clans, after all, and with ShadowClan at large…

It just hadn’t seemed like he was wanted.

“If you’re sure,” he started, hoping Deadfoot picked up on his uncertainty.

Deadfoot nodded. “I trust your judgment. Certainly don’t expect you to do it alone. Get a patrol together and check the border, that’s all I’m asking. And no fewer than three cats. Safety in numbers, and all that.”

“Who should I take?” Tiny asked.

Deadfoot shrugged. “Whoever’s up for it. Usually the moor-runners do that stuff, but if any tunnelers are willing to pitch in, I’ve got no objections. Our numbers are worn so thin, lately. I don’t mind breaking tradition for the sake of work ethic.”

Tiny paused. He was looking for some place to start, some idea of who he should go with. But, he was used to pulling strings by now. This wasn’t much different.

He nodded. “I’ll see who wants to join, then.”

Deadfoot smiled. “Great! Let me know who you’re taking before you set off, okay? I’d like to know who all’s where.”

“Will do.”

Tiny started his way towards the warriors’ den, scanning the group of cats to see who looked the most amenable to a patrol. Oatwhisker was last night’s guard, he knew, so the easy answer wasn’t an option. He’d rather face down with an angry badger than wake Larksplash before the sun came up, and no adventure with Crowfur could be anything but a nightmare.

He paused, looking over the group.

There was a cat he wanted to speak to.

Or, rather, had been asked to speak to.

He sighed, making his way to the patch of clovers by the camp wall.

Morningflower was out, clearly, as Rushtail rarely slept alone these days. He almost looked sad, laying there. Cold and alone.

Tiny wasn’t too fond of this idea. But Morningflower had asked the two to talk. May as well start now.

He gave the cream-colored warrior a gentle prod, nudging his shoulder with his white paw.

“Mrph,” Rushtail grumbled in protest, covering his face with his paws. “Ryestalk, give me a break. Heatherstar said I had the day off.”

Tiny couldn’t help but smirk. “It’s me, Rushtail. Tallstar’s bastard son? Remember me?”

Rushtail’s ears flicked as he lifted his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. They landed on Tiny, still groggy but quickly coming to. He paused. “Oh. Right,” he said with a flick of his shredded tail. His eyes shifted slightly, as if he remembered he was supposed to be bitter towards the outsider but not being quite awake enough to manage it.

Instead, he just twitched his whiskers. “Need something?” he asked, trying to lace his voice with a bit more hostility than the words warranted.

“Dawn patrol,” Tiny said plainly. “ShadowClan border, and I need a few extra paws. You up for it?”

Rushtail paused, seemingly calculating something. Eventually, he relented. “Sure,” he said with a sigh. “Give me a bit to get my legs moving.”

Tiny nodded, taking a step back as those long legs unfolded, taking Rushtail back up to his full height. Even with clovers sticking out of his tousled fur and his whiskers uneven, he still looked like a razor-sharp threat.

Maybe even more so, now that Tiny thought about it.

“Who else is coming?” Rushtail asked, stretching his legs out in front of him far enough that his claws unsheathed involuntarily.

Tiny shrugged. “Just you and I, at the moment. Anyone else you’d want to bring?”

Rushtail rocked forward, stretching his back legs, now. He then pulled his legs back in and shook out his fur, sending clover heads flying.

“Onewhisker’s usually good for morning work,” he thought aloud. Without so much as looking at Tiny, he turned to a lump of brown fur nearby. “Yo, Onsker!” he called out, roughly shaking the poor warrior awake.

Onewhisker scrambled to his paws, his fur on end and his eyes wild. “Wh-What- Who-?”

“Border patrol,” Rushtail said, his tone a little harsh for Tiny’s liking. “Get your day whiskers on. We’re checking the Thunderpath.”

Tiny couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t a question.

Onewhisker groggily ran a paw over his face. “It’s not with Rabbitear, is it?” he grumbled.

Rushtail shook his head. “Me, you, Palecloud. Deadfoot says he’s in charge for the day.”

Onewhisker’s eyes finally met Rushtail’s. “Alright, I’m coming.”

Tiny nodded. “Let’s shake a leg then, shall we?” he said with a professional smile. “Lots of ground to cover. And the tide waits for no cat.”

Rushtail returned the nod, almost dragging Onewhisker behind him. “Let’s see where the shadow-hearts moved the border, this time.”

Tiny had gotten used to the walk.

Spending time out here in the fresh air of the moors. His paws were beginning to know this ground, his whiskers were beginning to remember this air.

And yet, the world still had new things to show him.

“A good day for a walk, at least,” Rushtail said with a yawn.

Onewhisker nodded. “The grass seems to be perking back up, now that it can breathe. I was afraid the rain would smother it all.”

“And with green grass comes fat rabbits,” said Tiny.

“And with fat rabbits come lazy hawks,” Rushtail noted. “Best hope we don’t get complacent, as well.”

Tiny shook his head. “I think it’d be hard to forget your duties with a war breathing down your neck.”

Rushtail shrugged. “Fair enough. And hopefully such a nice newleaf brings kits.”

“I hear Darkfoot and Ashfoot are talking,” Tiny said, cocking an eyebrow.

Rushtail smirked. “Yup. Wouldn’t be surprised if we got a litter of ‘paws to help out come leaf-bare. I’m happy for them. They seem to be doing better, with their minds on something besides work for once.”

“Speaking of,” Tiny started. “How’s it going with Morningflower? You two are official now, yeah?”

Rushtail’s face lightened, his entire countenance softer than Tiny had ever seen it before as he looked off into the distance with a sigh. “When I tell you she’s perfect…I mean, I have no clue what she sees in me, but…she’s everything. Smart, kind, funny…”

Onewhisker’s gaze only soured. “I have no clue what she sees in you, either,” he muttered, trying to keep it to himself and failing.

If Rushtail heard it, he didn’t pay it any mind.

But Tiny couldn’t help but shoot him a look.

The tabby warrior’s ears fell in shame as he looked away, caught between some angry thought and the idea of judgment.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Tiny said, turning back to Rushtail.

Rushtail tried to hide it, but the genuine smile didn’t escape Tiny’s notice.

But he felt something shift as Onewhisker tensed beside him.

He turned, trying to meet his gaze but only finding the back of his head as Onewhisker looked out over the border, stopping in his tracks.

Tiny slowed to stay with him, motioning for Rushtail to do the same. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Onewhisker pointed up to the Thunderpath. “What is that?” he asked, his ears pricked up like a rabbit under the eyes of a hawk.

Tiny blinked, following the motion to a shape on the black stone. Wild fur matted to the earth in a pool of blood, mangled into a state that hardly resembled a living being.

Rushtail squared his shoulders, tensing against himself. It was easy to see why.

“Is that the fox?” Tiny asked. The size and scarlet fur sure made it seem that way.

Rushtail nodded. “That’s the one. I’d know the rabid that tore me up like the back of my paws. Can’t say I’m sorry for it.”

“Never thought I’d be grateful to a monster,” Tiny thought aloud. “Enemy of my enemy, I suppose.”

But something in his mind was stirring. Maybe it was just his thoughts of Thistleclaw, recently.

But Rushtail felt it, too.

“What if it’s a sign?” The thought left Rushtail’s mouth first.

Onewhisker turned to him, his eyes wide. Though, to be fair, they usually were. “A sign?” he echoed. “Like from StarClan?”

“Like from ShadowClan,” Tiny corrected.

“It’s some sort of…show of strength,” Rushtail explained. “Think about it. A fox nearly kills us, then they kill the fox. Then they put it out here, showing it off like some morbid honorific. Showing us that they’re stronger than us without even having the decency to look us in the eye.”

“Oh,” said Onewhisker, turning back to the fox.

The three sat in silence for a moment.

What should they do? Should they turn back and report this? It was just as likely that the fox had been killed by a monster. Should they continue the patrol, marking the border like nothing happened?

Tiny thought through the options. If only he could tell what really happened, then he could make the clear call.

It was Sunningrocks all over again.

At least this time, there was a wrong answer. Monster or not, symbol or not, the last thing Tiny wanted any of them to do was—

“I’ll go check it out!” Onewhisker called behind him, jolting ahead up the slope to the Thunderpath before Tiny even had the time to turn and face him.

Rushtail shot out after him. “Get back here, mouse-brain!” he screeched. “It’s a-!”

Trap.

And it was plenty sprung.

Two ShadowClan cats flung themselves from the bushes beside the Thunderpath, claws unsheathed as they dove for Onewhisker. A lanky gray cat threw a swipe at his muzzle, throwing him far enough off balance that a dusty tortoiseshell could sink her long teeth into his flank, pulling him back down the slope with a yowl.

The two tumbled for a second, the tortoiseshell in no hurry to let go. Onewhisker scrambled to right himself. He kicked and batted at the tortoiseshell, clawing her ears and muzzle. But she held firm.

Her pale green eyes darted up to her clanmate, now making his way down the slope. He launched himself into the air, using the height to his advantage, clearly aiming to grasp and kill Onewhisker like a piece of prey.

His cold, unfeeling stare was what caught Tiny the most off-guard. He’d been on the receiving end of murderous glares before. But none quite so hollow.

This wasn’t a thrill or a sick pleasure or even a necessary evil.

This was mundane. This was business.

But pale paws crashing into his side sent the airborne warrior off his mark as Rushtail threw all his weight against the attacker. The two made their own tumble back down into the ground, landing with a sound halfway between a thud and a splash, right into the mud.

Tiny’s adrenaline finally caught up with him as his paws began to move.

Onewhisker was in the most trouble. His options were limited, and Rushtail’s attack would likely have dazed the ShadowClan warrior. And so he threw himself into the fray, launching in with as much speed as he could manage and reaching out to sink his claws into the tortoiseshell’s unkempt pelt.

He felt some bizarre surge of power as his claws bit into her shoulder.

He hadn’t drawn blood from a cat before.

Something about it felt familiar, in a sickening sort of way. Like recalling a nightmare.

The tortoiseshell reeled, recoiling from the blow and spinning to face Tiny, slashing her claws across his muzzle in a wild strike that wasn’t focused enough to do real damage, but still enough to draw blood from Tiny’s nose.

But she had released Onewhisker. And turned her back on him.

And as dense as he could be sometimes, no one could say that Onewhisker didn’t have the fastest claws in the clan.

He shot out in a blur of brown fur, amber eyes blazing like fire as his claws caught her in the side. He slashed a large swath through her fur, even though it was clear he had to cut through a few mats on his way.

The hiss that the tortoiseshell let out could have cut through glass.

Tiny readied his shoulders, preparing for another round.

Rushtail was winning his own fight. Or, at least, that’s how it seemed from the cursory glance that Tiny could manage.

Let it never be said that WindClan goes down without a fight!

But pain knocked him out of his cheering. A dull thud to the back of his head, sending him spinning to the ground, his vision blacked out.

His head clouded, like swimming in mud, he scrambled for a hold in the daze. Some purchase in his senses as his vision failed him, his ears rang loud, and all he had was the pain that felt a little too much like that concussion Rabbitear may have given him for him to like the direction this was headed.

The daze only lasted a heartbeat or two before his eyes refocused and the ringing abated. He was on the ground, as he would have assumed, his peripherals flanked by paws.

Massive brown paws.

Tiny whirled onto his back, nearly blacking out again from the vertigo that followed. He locked eyes with a sturdy brown cat, his face slashed in all directions with scars from battles long past, his shoulders thick as the trunk of a mighty oak, his eyes narrow slits of amber hate as he pressed a paw down to force the air from Tiny’s chest with his weight.

Yellowed teeth were bared in a twisted grin.

“Say goodbye, WindClan.”

Tiny knew this moment. The moment the claws pressed into his throat and the teeth came down to snap his windpipe. He had the same wicked smile. The same burning glare.

But Tiny had relived this moment thousands of times. He had gone over what he could have done differently so often that it seemed like muscle memory at this point.

He only had one shot.

One more than he ever thought he’d get.

His claws flew through the air with a nightmarish precision.

The eyes were the most sensitive part of the body, he knew.

A violent, sky-shattering yowl bellowed out from the ShadowClan warrior. He hadn’t caught the eye itself, thank StarClan, but close enough to send the body staggering backwards away from the pain. The brown paws lifted from Tiny as the ShadowClan warrior stumbled off of him, his lower lid already starting to bleed.

Tiny pulled himself to his paws, thanking every star in the sky that the blow to his head seemed not to have done any lasting damage.

The ShadowClan warrior growled with an unmatched fury. “You’ll pay for that, Wind-head!” he spat, dragging his claws through the dirt beneath his paws.

Tiny readied his muscles, seeing the wind-up.

On even ground. Just how he liked it.

The brown cat made the first move, blinded by rage and pain. He barreled towards Tiny with a feral intent, claws swiping wildly in his direction.

It was an easy dodge, but didn’t leave much of an opening. But Tiny had options.

He cut left, banking on the enemy favoring that side after his other eye was injured. An overshot. That’s all Tiny needed to make his move.

And he got it, as long and sturdy claws flashed down after him, leaning into the momentum of the turn for a more powerful hit. It would be devastating to wind up on the receiving end of that attack. So Tiny’s dodge couldn’t have been more well timed as he felt those badger claws graze his whiskers.

But the claws kept going, fast and powerful, missing the swipe and finding no purchase in the dead air where Tiny was a moment ago.

He darted in, lunging for the leg that now supported the full weight of those titanic shoulders. His teeth sank into the elbow, bending it with the force granted by his speed and the shock of the pain.

Blood rushed into his mouth.

Its foul, metallic tang stung like claws across his muzzle.

But he had to keep moving, kicking off of his opponent to let him collapse in the mud below with a sickening yowl.

“Clawface!” the tortoiseshell called out, her eyes wild.

It was enough of a distraction for Onewhisker to get in a cheap shot to the side of the head.

The outburst seemed to have no effect on the gray cat, still locked in a duel of blows with Rushtail. The two were evenly matched, perhaps even a little too well as the only progress they seemed to be making was wearing each other out.

But the balance was beginning to tip. And not in Rushtail’s favor.

Suddenly finding his paws free as his opponent lay wounded in the mud, Tiny dashed in to assist.

They didn’t have to kill. They didn’t have to make a decisive victory. Just throw their stone into the pond with enough force to ripple out. Make a statement.

WindClan is not weak.

WindClan is not a burden.

WindClan will survive.

The words echoed through Tiny’s mind as he leapt for the gray warrior, sinking his claws into the attacker’s shoulders deep enough to scrape bone.

The gray warrior screamed in agony, bucking backwards to throw Tiny off. He fell easily, his claws ripping out of the skin with little resistance. But the sound alone told him it was the right play, even as he flew back into the earth, blood arching out to follow his unsheathed claws.

He spun to land on his shoulder, using the momentum to duck into a roll, landing him back on his paws quickly enough to dodge a swipe aimed squarely for his neck.

Or, at least, it would have been on a taller cat.

The gray warrior almost seemed shocked to find someone of Tiny’s stature with his blood on their paws. Was that a flicker of fear Tiny saw behind those eyes?

Or…perhaps…something more sinister?

Whatever it was, it didn’t last long, quickly cut short with a wince as Rushtail’s claws raked his flank. He turned the flinch into action, pulling back away and facing the two WindClan cats, now standing side by side.

The gray cat’s face twisted unnaturally. “The moors belong to ShadowClan!” he hissed in a sleazy baritone.

Tiny felt his face pull back into a sneering grin. “Then why does StarClan guide our claws?” For once, the ice in his voice served him well.

He could almost hear the restraint it took from Rushtail not to undercut the comment with a cheap insult. Instead, he channeled the feeling into his face, baring his teeth and training his eyes on the opponent with a vengeful intent, like a guard dog waiting to be let loose.

As the gray cat’s eyes scanned them with a mix of horror and awe, Tiny saw it. The moment to strike.

He relaxed.

The unfeeling gaze he had seen earlier was a weapon. One he was sure he could make good use of. As if this was no more than a practice battle for him, he put the caution aside. Not because it wasn’t warranted, but because acting like he didn’t need to try would echo an authority that he knew cats like this were prone to.

Pulling his posture up like a leader addressing their clan, his gaze softening like a mentor appraising their apprentice, his smile turned more subtle, almost polite, every fur on his body smoothing down to his skin.

“Give Brokenstar my regards,” he said, keeping his voice cold as ever.

Those cold green eyes went wide, the fur on the back of the ShadowClan warrior’s neck standing up like a bird acting big. His mind was clearly scrambling.

His confidence was melting.

And so he huffed, spitting blood into the dirt with a nasty sneer that Tiny could only guess was his attempt at maintaining some level of dignity.

“ShadowClan! We’re out of here!” he called, turning to face his companions.

The tortoiseshell almost looked upset to be told to retreat. But the bigger cat - Clawface, as Tiny recalled - was already making his exit from the scene, hobbling back over the border with his leg wounded almost as badly as his pride.

The gray cat shot one more bitter look to Tiny. “Sleep with one eye open, rabbit-chaser,” he hissed. “No cat lives forever. Best check that ego before it costs you everything.”

Tiny smirked. “Tell your leader I said the same.”

The gray cat spent a heartbeat too long looking for a response, but ended up turning off in a huff. He rushed up the slope to the Thunderpath, not bothering to give a second look to the tortoiseshell as she scrambled to free herself from the mud she had fallen into.

Tiny waited for the trio to disappear over the hill before letting his spine relax.

Rushtail’s panting quickly morphed into cackling, his relief bubbling out in scattered gasps of laughter. “Woo!” he cheered, his smile overpowering his face. “Talk about a wake-up! No better way to start the day, eh fellas?”

Tiny nearly burst out laughing. “Can’t say I’m eager to make a habit of it,” he said, only now realizing how out of breath he really was.

Onewhisker practically peeled himself off the ground, muddied and bloodied and worn down to the bone. “Toad-breath scum!” he shouted, seemingly to no one. “Every last one of them can rot in the Place of No Stars!”

“Ha!” Rushtail leaned in to help Onewhisker up, though neither cat was looking particularly stable. “You’re telling me! Anybody lose an eye or a tail, this time?”

The joke landed a little hollow.

Still, Tiny just shook his head. “I’m fine, I think. Maybe a glancing blow from the little hedgehog one, and maybe another concussion. But I’m used to those by now.”

“Maybe you’ll build an immunity?” Onewhisker suggested. He turned, inspecting his pelt. “Speaking of, she bit me bad in the back leg. I think I’ll be fine, but I certainly don’t want it to fester.”

Rushtail nodded. “Who knows what Tangleburr puts in her mouth, let alone the rest of ShadowClan? Could have rabies, for all we know.”

Tangleburr, eh? Awfully fitting.

“Can you walk?” Tiny asked, turning to Onewhisker. “How bad is it?”

Onewhisker blinked. “Oh, ah, I should be fine. May limp a little, but it’s honestly not that bad. I just don’t want it getting worse, y’know?”

Tiny nodded. “We can pay Barkface a visit when we get back to camp, then. You’ll last the trip back, right?”

Rushtail turned to him, his face blank. “Are we cutting the patrol here?” he asked.

Tiny paused. “Well…yes. Deadfoot should know what happened, and I don’t feel safe knowing ShadowClan has started pushing ambush tactics. We got lucky, and we’re not lasting another one of those battles with our whiskers still on.”

Rushtail took a moment to respond, then gave a nod. “Probably for the best,” he said, though it was clear his heart and his mind weren’t in agreement about it. He gave Onewhisker a nudge. “Alright, sparrow-legs. Let’s get you back to your nest.”

Onewhisker pulled himself to his paws, giving Rushtail an odd look. “I’m no injured bird, badger-brain,” he said, nudging him back, a little harder. “I can walk.”

Rushtail rolled his eyes as Onewhisker began to make his way out of the ditch.

Tiny turned to Rushtail. “You alright?” he asked, giving his clanmate a quick once-over. Blood stained his pelt, though it was hard to tell whose blood it was.

Rushtail paused, then shrugged, flashing a charismatic smile. “A few scrapes and bruises. Spit and mud, at the worst. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m going to worry,” Tiny said, the scoff in his tone surprising himself. “You act like you didn’t just face down someone with intent to end your life!”

“And you just put him in his place with a glare!” Rushtail returned. He bumped Tiny with his shoulder. “Lighten up a little, would you? Clawface and Wolfstep are a lot of things, but they’re not pushovers. How’d you manage to walk away looking as handsome as ever, huh? Not like you sat back and kept your claws clean, either! Toe-to-toe with two of ShadowClan’s nastiest and all you’ve got to show for it is some mild head trauma.”

Tiny shrugged, trying not to let the glow of pride radiate too hard from his face. “Ah, Rabbitear’s lessons really paid off. Say what you want about her, but she knows what she’s talking about. A few lucky shots certainly didn’t hurt, either.”

“Clawface is a hulking monster, though!” Onewhisker piped up. “A few lucky shots don’t explain taking down a wall of muscle thicker than I am tall!”

“He could’ve killed you with one swipe!” Rushtail agreed.

Tiny thought for a moment. “I guess it’s size advantage,” he said at last. “Speed and dexterity coupled with the opponent not being used to fighting someone my size. My anatomy just isn’t in the same place.”

As he spoke, something clicked.

A small cat. Untouchable by a larger one, even one with moons of ruthless battle knowledge burned into them.

The bigger the size difference, the harder it would be to keep up with the attack.

Of course, muscle would play a big role. Weakening the opponent would be the only option, tearing down their defenses one claw swipe at a time.

It was that or an ambush. But as the gray cat  had displayed, knocking a smaller cat off after a surprise attack was easier than it should have been.

It was a gamble. Face to face or the coward’s way out?

A sudden jab in the ribs brought Tiny back to reality.

“Head in the clouds, fluffball?” Rushtail teased.

Tiny’s ears dropped. “Sorry. Lost in thought, I guess.”

“What about?” Onewhisker asked. “You looked angry. Is something wrong.”

Tiny sighed. “I don’t know. Just…all this. What that gray cat said. He seemed to really believe it.”

“Beh,” said Rushtaill. “Wolfstep’s got the bite but no backbone. He’s just one of Brokenstar’s weird little cronies, nothing more. You scared the daylights out of him, though! Nearly fell out of his pelt!”

Onewhisker nodded. “I got shivers just watching it! You’ve got a glare that could kill, I tell you.”

“Oh, that ‘why does StarClan guide our claws?’ bit?” Rushtail chuckled. “You should have seen ol’ Wolfy’s face, Onsker! You’d think he just had his throat slit or something!”

Onewhisker beamed. “I wasn’t looking at him at all, to be honest. Did you see Palecloud get all cold and scary? I don’t blame Wolfstep for slinking back to the swamp after that!”

“‘Tell your leader to check his ego!’” Rushtail dropped his voice to a graveled hiss in his best impression of Tiny. He gave a single hearty laugh to the sky. “That’s the kind of line they tell stories about!”

Tiny snickered. “To be fair, that’s not how I said it. He told me to check mine and I just passed the compliment to Brokenstar.”

“Still!” Rushtail insisted. “Betcha the big brutes see you in a different light, now! No meek little mewling kits here! No sir! Not when Palecloud’s in charge!”

The energy of the conversation was contagious.

They were speaking so candidly about it all, and only had good things to say.

In all honesty, it was pretty messy. Freezing up at the beginning, getting knocked out by a single blow, letting himself get thrown onto his back with no resistance?

So many points that needed polishing.

And the loss of control. The immaturity of his reaction to Clawface pinning him to the ground sending him into that idealized world where he was the hero that day behind the fence.

But he seemed to have found a niche.

Outsmarting his opponent. Either with a quick maneuver or a quick smile, getting into their heads was the easy part. The way his brain worked. Picking apart tells and leading actions.

Manipulation.

He always despised the word. Like he was some caricature of a villain that made others do whatever he wanted, putting them under some sort of spell. But his mind had weak points. And others had their own. Finding those weak points, pushing the claws into the pressure point to make the muscle recoil.

Like taking Clawface’s leg.

That was his niche. Finding the pattern and exploiting it.

It certainly seemed to be working.

Maybe he could live with being that cat.

A small smile grew on his face.

Rushtail shot him one twice its size. “Nice work today, hotshot,” he said, cocking his brow. “And it’s not even sunhigh! Let yourself feel good about this. You’ve earned a little praise.”

He had to admit, the compliments were feeding him.

“Thanks, you two. We make a good team,” said Palecloud.

Chapter Text

Blood red leaves let no light through, black trunks reaching towards an unseen sky, as gravel earth wove a path through the unfamiliar foliage.

Suffocating. That was the word Silverstream would have used. She didn’t know how ThunderClan could stand it, tangled up in an endless web of trees and brambles, scrounging around in the dark for the tiniest traces of prey.

No wonder they wanted Sunningrocks so badly. It was probably the only place in the whole territory they could go to see the sky.

She’d almost forgive the impulse, if that was the case. She felt like she was being choked by the trees closing in, watched by shadows that flitted at the corners of her vision, and followed by pawsteps she was almost certain weren’t hers. The dead air cooled no nerves as the trees stayed stagnant as sentries to the darkness, blocking her view and yet, beckoning her onward.

The only sound she was sure she could hear was her own heart beating hard in her chest. No croaking frogs, no twittering birdsong, no gentle flow of the river…

This place felt empty.

Dead.

And it smelled…sharp.

“You made it.”

Silverstream whirled around to see who spoke, nearly feeling her heart bursting out of her chest, every hair on her pelt bristling at the sound of a voice in the dark.

She only calmed at the sight of green-blue eyes rippling like pools of water against pale fur.

“It’s you,” Silverstream nearly sighed.

The specter chuckled, flashing fangs into her smile. “Were you expecting someone else?” she asked. She began to walk further into the forest, motioning for Silverstream to follow.

“Where even are we?” Silverstream asked, scrambling a little to catch up. “Who are you? What-“

The spirit turned to her, her face blank. “So many questions. Though I suppose I can’t fault you for being curious. Not everyone gets this opportunity.”

“What opportunity?”

The cat smiled, turning back to the forest ahead of her. “I believe my friends can explain better than I.”

Silverstream huffed, earning a playful bat from the stranger. “None of that, now. You’ll get your answers in just a moment, love.”

Silverstream’s eyes narrowed. “Can you at least tell me your name?” she asked. “You know a lot about me, seems like. Least you could do is introduce yourself.”

The snapping of a twig and shifting of shadows in the forest ahead interrupted any curiosity she had. The pale cat smiled, turning to face the shadows with her head high.

“Right on time,” she purred.

Silverstream tried her hardest not to react as the shadows began to pour out of the thicket, moving seemingly without form or weight before coalescing into a cat before her very eyes. Even in the dim light of the forest, a gray pelt shone to life, near-black stripes cast into wiry fur that clung to a frame rippling with muscle toned from moons of hard labor. Golden hazel eyes centered in a square face scanned the duo, eyeing Silverstream with a suspicion she wasn’t sure was warranted.

Even as the cat stepped closer, long claws slipped out of their sheaths.

The cat twitched a shredded ear, narrowing those eyes to a sharp glare. But with a huff, they turned to the pale cat. “So. This is her?” he growled, sounding unimpressed. “Awful soft for a trainee, isn’t she?”

The pale cat’s gaze sharpened to meet his. “She will do just as well as any other, if not better. I am sure of it. She is my blood.”

“Fat lot of good that blood’s done us so far.”

An even sharper look crept onto the pale cat’s face, distorting her features like those of a rabid dog. “I’d advise you to watch that tongue of yours, Silverhawk . Remember, it was not I who requested her in specific. If you have your complaints, I’d recommend you take it up with her .”

Silverhawk nearly shrunk, but turned the movement into a sneer at the last moment. Quite deftly, if Silverstream was to judge.

Still, first impressions were everything. She began with a full chest and a head held high.

“Good evening,” she started, her demeanor practiced and sure. “My name is--”

“I know,” Silverhawk cut her off. “Silverstream, right? Daughter of Crookedstar, and all that?” He huffed. “Rainflower’s been talking you up like you’re the next Riverstar. All because you’re her granddaughter.” He stepped back, rolling his eyes and turning away from the duo. “Blood. All that matters to these cats. Only blood that really matters is what’s spilled. But we’ll see what the Thundermother thinks of you.”

As he spoke, he turned back the way he came, pulling back the brambles to reveal a small path through the thicket. Gesturing inside, he turned to Rainflower. “After you, your haughtiness.”

Rainflower shook her head. “You will lead, and we will follow.”

“Don’t trust me?”

“Not a hair.”

Silverhawk shrugged, pushing on through the brambles, his fur catching at every opportunity.

Rainflower turned to Silverstream. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you,” she said, that warmth returning to her voice.

Silverstream swallowed hard, but did as she was told, slipping into the tangle.

A few tense seconds passed before she dared to speak again. “Rainflower?” she asked, though the tight walls of the bracken tunnel made the question directionless. “Isn’t that…my father’s mother?”

The name had only come up a few times. It seemed neither he nor Oakheart liked to talk about her much, and the rest of the clan echoed their silence. But, from the scarce whispers she had heard, Rainflower was a strong warrior, one who had died defending her clan. Silverstream had always wished she had gotten the chance to meet her.

She had never guessed it would have been like this.

“The very same,” Rainflower purred behind her. “I’m sorry to not have introduced myself sooner. Have to keep a little quiet about such things.”

“We weren’t sure you’d even come back,” Silverhawk added. “Rushtooth and Sparrowfeather had a bet going. But we had to be careful, in case you didn’t. Can’t have loose lips running around, now can we?”

Silverstream shook her head. “I’d never pass up an opportunity like this! But I understand why you’d be so cautious.”

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could almost feel Silverhawk’s smile in the air. “Good to hear it,” he said, his voice low. “Keep up that determination. It’ll get you far in these woods.”

As he spoke, the light shifted, almost seeming darker as he pulled out of the tunnel and into a wooded clearing, waiting for Silverstream to follow.

Poking her head out, she looked around with a mix of awe and worry.

The trees surrounding the clearing stretched high, higher than any tree she had seen before, putting Fourtrees to shame. And yet, their canopy was solid, impenetrable, not allowing for even the slightest sliver of that sacred starlight through. Those paw-shaped leaves painted the sky a vibrant scarlet hue, cascading down in a dome of thorns and branches. Twisted trunks sat sentinel around the clearing, their exposed roots providing cracks and crevices for cats of all shapes and sizes, each with their eyes on her.

A lithe black tom looked up from his grooming, his long legs stretched out before him, dripping with water even darker than his pelt. Two brown tabbies sat nearby, pausing what seemed to be a playful row to watch her. The smaller of the two got an awfully smug look on her face, turning to her companion who only sneered, long fangs flashing beneath curled lips.

A snow white tom slunk out of the shadows like a snake at the sound of a mouse, his pale yellow eyes and feathered ears trained on her. From beneath him, a weathered old tabby roused from some dark place beneath the tree, casting a dismissive glance her way before curling back up in whatever hole he had risen from.

Each one of these cats looked battered and wartorn, with eyes echoing moons of pain and sorrow.

And yet, none of that is what made Silverstream’s heart lurch.

What caused her to shrink was the massive black stone in the middle of the clearing, its angles sharp and untouched by wind or water, reflective like moonlit ice and with a subtle purple tint. Atop it sat a cat.

Thick ginger and black fur cast an imposing silhouette, sitting above the clearing with shifting yellow eyes. A white tail twitched in anticipation, whiskers pulled back for an elegant profile and ears pricked at attention. Scars of battles past littered what Silverstream was sure was a sturdy frame, with the demeanor of a practiced warrior and the face of both a mother and a leader.

Silverstream recalled the name Silverhawk had said.

Thundermother.

Rainflower slipped out of the tunnel just in time to see the ginger cat leap from the rock with an intimidating presence. And yet, as the stranger approached them with what seemed like predatory intent, Rainflower only nodded.

“Seems we’ve made it on time,” she mused, wrapping her tail around Silverstream in some sort of calming gesture. “Don’t be scared, dear,” she added.

“Yeah,” Silverhawk chimed in. “She can smell your fear.”

Neither comment had the calming effect they were hoping for.

The ginger cat’s face didn’t waver as she approached, walking with the sharpened pace of a warlord. Though, as she approached, something in her gaze turned soft.

“Welcome,” she started, her voice smooth and steady. “You must be the prodigal Silverstream I’ve heard so much about. Rainflower’s been just raving about you.”

Silverstream blinked. Prodigal? “Y-yes, ma’am.” No matter what she did, she couldn’t calm the quiver in her voice. “It’s…ah…a pleasure to meet you.”

The ginger cat chuckled. “Such poise! A welcome change from the types I see around these woods.” As she spoke, she turned a playful glance towards Silverhawk, who only rolled his eyes. She turned back to Silverstream. “My name is Mapleshade. I’ve been eager to meet you. We have much work to do, and too little time left. I assume Rainflower told you why you’re here?”

Silverstream nodded. “Enough. She told me I was destined to lead, and that we must win back Sunningrocks.”

“And that we must,” Mapleshade said. “This war has torn generations apart. A treaty sounds best but…when warriors speak with claws, the only way out is through.”

“A decisive victory must be won,” Rainflower agreed. “To end the pain, one side must give in.”

“And it will not be RiverClan,” Silverhawk finished.

Silverstream paused. “So, am I right to assume that you’ll be training me?”

Mapleshade nodded. “Indeed.” She turned, gesturing with her tail for Silverstream to look out at the clearing, the shadowy figures all stepping a little closer now, deeply intrigued with her arrival. “Here, in these darkened woods, generations of warriors come to hone skills that the living have such a finite time to learn, perfecting techniques over lifetimes of practice. We have seen failures innumerable, tragedies and atrocities passed down through moons, and have remained here, to sharpen our claws and teach the warriors of today, the leaders of tomorrow, how to survive in our broken world.”

“We cannot fix what is broken,” Rainflower said. “Nor can we regain what was lost. But we can rise stronger from the ashes we find ourselves in.”

“Well put,” Mapleshade said with a smile, though it quickly faded. “Of course, everything takes time, and we are running out.”

“Meddlers?” Silverstream asked. “Rainflower had mentioned something like that.”

Mapleshade nodded sadly. “Lives were changed. A vital ally was turned from his destiny by someone who couldn’t see the strength his pain would forge. And so, with the balance disrupted, a new destiny must be carved.”

Silverstream’s eyes began to sparkle. “Mine,” she said softly.

“Yours,” Rainflower agreed.

With a smile that radiated moons of wisdom, Mapleshade turned to the crowd around her, holding her head high. “Everyone! May I introduce to you, the future leader of RiverClan, rewriter of fate, Silverstream! The new pride and joy of the Forest of Secrets!”

Sandpaw tossed about in her nest, begging for some level of comfort she couldn’t find.

Why did her own father make her feel so vile?

And yet she watched him encourage Dustpaw, congratulating him on his improvements. She watched him speak to Dappletail, asking after Ravenpaw and seeing his progress.

Was she a failure by nature? Or did she have promise she wasn’t living up to?

The question had a strangling hold on her brain, twisting it in knots she didn’t have the fortitude to untie herself from.

She thought back to that vole. Big in some eyes, but miniscule in the grand scheme of things.

A pebble in a rockslide. A drop of water in the river.

A grain of sand in a storm.

Her stomach turned unnaturally. She could no longer tell the difference between hunger and sickness.

Her body pulled her to her paws, almost as if by a will not her own. Like some other cat had a grasp on her body as she stumbled out of her bedding, head hanging low and tail between her legs.

A walk. Maybe that would help.

She cast a quick glance to her brothers, envying their restful sleep. Dustpaw was sprawled out, taking up the room of a cat twice his size, right in the warmest spot of the den. Ravenpaw had been moved closer to the entrance, wrapped into the tightest ball he could possibly manage. Still, his ears and eyes twitched in a dream, one he was clearly enjoying. Was he basking in the praise of their father in his dreams? Or did he dream of the success that was clearly just a bit too far out of her reach?

She sighed, lumbering out of the den and into the cold night air. She didn’t want to think about it.

The camp had calmed down after the activity of the day. Four kits. Four! As much as she was struggling, Sandpaw was grateful to be out of the nursery before the litter arrived. Frostfur and Lionheart must be happy. She wondered idly if that vole she had caught had gone to the new parents. It wasn’t on the pile anymore, judging by the quick glance at it. Though neither was the shrew that bit Dustpaw.

Still, voles were Frostfur’s favorite. A habit she seemed to have picked up from her mentor, Bluestar. Sandpaw wondered if Lionheart would have grabbed that vole for her, to feed the little ones her body was no doubt struggling to keep up with.

Maybe it had gone to Rosetail, grabbing it to share with Bluestar while the two spoke about the newborns. Though the thought of them talking about Tigerclaw’s scolding made her feel even worse, somehow.

Had Spottedleaf taken it? She’d had a rough day, herself, dealing with the delivery, not to mention a certain unruly apprentice getting a shot of paralyzing venom to his dominant paw. Add to that her trying to keep up with Fuzzypelt’s failing lungs…

The greencough had ripped through him, it seemed. After moons of service to clan and kin, his body no longer had the strength to fight off the disease, even with the aid of the herbs those WindClan cats had brought in.

Robinwing may have shared it with him, telling him about the day he had been too sick to enjoy with her.

Though, that may have been wishful thinking. If Robinwing was sharing any thoughts with Fuzzypelt, they certainly weren’t about Sandpaw. Not with their daughter having just given birth to their first ever litter of grandkits. Sandpaw remembered Robinwing’s first litter being mentioned a few times. Neither made it to their warrior ceremony. Though, thinking about it now, no one had ever told Sandpaw what actually happened to them.

A wandering mind wasn’t doing her much good. She should put her paws to something. Go hunting? Gather moss? She hadn’t exactly had any battle training she could focus on, though she’d bet if she found a warrior up this late, they’d be willing to teach her a few things.

Then again, a RiverClan battle had been mentioned before. She’d be lucky to find anyone still in camp.

Scanning the camp, only a couple faces scattered the clearing. Runningwind was on guard at the entrance, tonight, a duty she was sure he wasn’t enjoying. Still, she couldn’t exactly pull him from his post. Maybe she could take over for him?

Brindleface sat in the roots of a tree that had grown into the cliffside of the walls of the ThunderClan camp. She sat grooming herself idly, enjoying the peace and quiet of a lonely moment after a day no doubt spent worrying about her sister. Would it be rude to bother her?

But a warmer face caught Sandpaw’s eye, just slipping out of the warriors’ den with bright eyes, clearly lost in their own unwarranted thoughts.

Speckletail.

Sandpaw’s heart lifted as the senior warrior turned to give her a smile, trotting over with her tail held high in greeting.

“Can’t sleep?” Speckletail asked, her voice as cozy as ever.

Sandpaw stepped up to meet her, trying to give an equally warm smile even as she gave a noncommittal shrug. “Just can’t stop thinking.”

Speckletail gave a nod, a small purr rising in her throat as she rasped her tongue over Sandpaw’s head in a rough lick between the ears. Just like when she was small.

Since Tigerclaw had refused to set a paw in the nursery, Speckletail was often the one to take over for care of the trio when Goldenflower needed a moment to herself. At least, before Willowpelt joined them. But Speckletail did always make her time to come visit her grandkits, telling them how her day was and sharing news of the clan outside the nursery walls.

Sandpaw couldn’t help but lean into the gesture.

“Poor kitten,” Speckletail cooed. “I remember your mother had the same problem at your age. Mind always wandering off where it shouldn’t.” She chuckled to herself. “Suppose it’s my fault, passing on my father’s bad habits.”

Though Sandpaw knew, logically, that it would stand to be insulted by her grandmother treating her like a kit, something in it was soothing. A pure gesture of love. In all honesty, Sandpaw was grateful to receive it after the day she’d had.

Speckletail’s eyes filled with a somber concern. “What’s got you so upset?”

Sandpaw laughed a bit. “Do I look that bad?”

It was a joke, but Speckletail’s sincere nod made her smile wilt.

She sighed, looking away. “Tigerclaw yelled at me.” She didn’t care to share the details of her mistake.

Still, Speckletail’s gaze hardened. “He yelled at you?” she asked. “What for?”

Sandpaw shrugged again. “I messed up on a patrol. I brought back this big vole, and I thought he’d be proud of me, but…”

Speckletail’s ears perked up at this. “You caught that? The big water vole?”

Sandpaw nodded.

“All by yourself?”

Sandpaw blinked, looking back up at her. “Yes?” Why was she so nervous about this? It wasn’t like Speckletail was about to yell at her, too.

Was she?

Oh StarClan, was she about to get another scolding?

But Speckletail’s eyes were full of pride, a bright smile glowing on her face. “I was wondering who we had to thank for that! It was good to see Frostfur get a good meal after the day she had.”

Sandpaw’s heart lifted, and she was sure it showed on her face. So it had gone to Frostfur! She couldn’t help but notice the small chuckle that Speckletail gave at her reaction.

But the snap of a twig at the camp entrance brought her attention elsewhere.

She turned, Speckletail following in kind, to see a figure lumbering out of the shadows, bloodied and battered.

Her heart sank, seeing Tigerclaw’s face dripping with red, though clearly with blood not his own.

More cats followed, each one looking more tired than the last, some with wounds they wouldn’t soon forget.

Patchpelt and Dappletail brought up the rear, being watched closely by Redtail as they carried an unmoving form into camp.

Limp, soaked in blood, a wound sliced into the throat that had stopped pouring before they had even gotten back to camp. A cursory attempt was made to staunch the flow, but it was clear what they were pulling between them wasn’t a cat.

Not anymore.

Sandpaw felt sick.

“Redtail!” Bluestar’s voice cut through the tension of the moment. Redtail turned to her, his face somber and broken as his leader rushed up to him. “What-”

“We won,” Tigerclaw growled. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’d hardly call this a victory,” Patchpelt cut in.

He and Dappletail stepped forward, gently lowering the corpse to the ground.

Even through the torrent of blood, Sandpaw could still just barely make out the flash of ginger on the dusky brown fur.

“Robinwing,” Speckletail said breathlessly.

Bluestar’s eyes scanned the body for a moment, processing what she was seeing.

Sandpaw could have sworn she saw a glimmer of fear in her leader’s eyes.

But she swallowed it down quickly, replacing it with sincerity as she turned to Redtail. “Who did this?” she asked, her voice little more than a furious rumble in her throat.

“One of the younger warriors,” said Redtail. “I’m not all that familiar with the face.”

“I am.” Rosetail pulled through the crowd, squaring herself against Bluestar’s gaze with one that rivaled the leader in ferocity. “Bluefur, you need to talk with him.”

Bluestar blinked. Only Rosetail still called her by her warrior name, but Sandpaw was sure it stung every time. Especially now. “With who?” Bluestar asked, reading the lash in her friend’s tail with caution.

Rosetail’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the only one he’ll listen to. You need to tell that fish-brained leader of theirs to get his daughter in line before this happens again.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t too long a walk back to WindClan camp. Even still, Tiny’s patrol was exhausted by the time they returned.

Deadfoot’s eyes widened seeing them enter, far too early to have run the whole perimeter and dripping with blood. Tiny gave him a nod, turning to his companions.

“I’ll talk to him,” he declared. “Rushtail, get Onewhisker to Barkface.”

Before Rushtail could so much as nod in response, Onewhisker cut in with a scoff. “I’m fine!” he spat. “I walked across the whole territory! I can make it to the medicine den.”

“You walked here limping and complaining, and leaning your whole weight on me,” Rushtail pointed out. Seeing a glare from the tabby warrior, he shrugged. “But fine. Your funeral.”

Onewhisker bared his teeth in something halfway between a threat and a wince before turning to hobble off towards the medicine den, grumbling the whole way.

Rushtail chuckled. “Someone’s in a bad mood.”

“Can’t exactly blame him,” Tiny mumbled.

Deadfoot brought a conversation with Bristlebark to a hurried end before rushing over to Tiny. “What in StarClan’s name happened to you?!” he nearly shrieked.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” Rushtail said coyly. “You won’t need two of ‘em.”

Tiny shook his head. “ShadowClan. They set a trap and ambushed us.”

“On the border?”

Rushtail nodded. “That fox ended up on the Thunderpath. We tried to investigate, but the shadow-hearts were ahead of us.”

Tiny blinked. It was Onewhisker that charged ahead. But the way that Rushtail said it cut the blame between the three of them. Not only that, but he had downplayed the situation.

Odd.

“Who all ambushed you?” Deadfoot asked.

Tiny paused, trying to remember the names. “Clawface, Tangleburr and…”

“Wolfstep,” Rushtail finished. “They used the slope to drop down on us. Looked like they had Clawface in the back to pin us in, too.”

Deadfoot nodded sadly. “I’m assuming you retreated?”

Tiny was nearly knocked off his balance as Rushtail butted up against him. “Nope! Not with the new cat in charge!” Rushtail declared. “Showed those ol’ toad-breaths what you get when you mess with WindClan!”

Deadfoot blinked, a little taken aback. He turned to Tiny. “You fought back?”

Tiny shrugged, averting his gaze. “We didn’t really have a choice,” he said. “They had us pinned against the Thunderpath. And Tangleburr had Onewhisker in a death grip. I wasn't exactly going to abandon him there. By the time either side got an opening to leave, ShadowClan took it.”

“It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” Rushtail continued. “Tangleburr had Onewhisker pinned, and Wolfstep was going for the killing blow, so I cut in and-”

“ Killing blow? ” Deadfoot echoed, now fully bewildered.

“He jumped off the Thunderpath!” Rushtail explained. “Only one way I could interpret it. A full fox-length, like he was leaping for a bird in flight. But I shoved him out of the way, and then Palecloud jumped in to help get Onewhisker out, but Clawface knocked him down, so he clipped him in the face and took out his leg, then ran to help me, then he grabbed Wolfstep, and Wolfstep threw him off, and he said something stupid about ShadowClan killing all of us, but Palecloud said ‘then why do the stars guide our claws’ like it was nothing! Ice cold, I tell you! Scared him clear out of his flea-ridden pelt! And Palecloud stared him down! And they turned tail and ran back without another word! It was incredible!”

Tiny felt out of breath just hearing that.

He could tell Deadfoot was a little overwhelmed at the barrage of information.

“What’s important is that they ambushed us,” Tiny said coolly. “It may be a good idea to stagger border patrols away from the usual times, so they can’t trap us as easily.”

Deadfoot paused, then nodded. “Fair. A little unorthodox, but fair. I’ll send another patrol out a little later, once the sun comes up, so we can finish the border. How far did you get?”

“About halfway,” Rushtail said. “Not too far from the oak tree. Shouldn’t be too long a job.”

“I’ll go with,” Tiny offered. “I know we’re short on paws at the moment, and I’d like to be able to keep an eye out for any similar trouble.”

But Deadfoot shook his head. “I can have tunnelers on the border. I need you two hunting. If you’re up for it, of course. Didn’t get too hurt?”

“A few scratches, but we’re fine,” said Rushtail. Tiny was glad he neglected to mention him getting hit in the head again. “Onewhisker got the worst of it, and it didn’t look too bad. Barkface has him now. We should be good to go.”

Deadfoot nodded. “Well, then. Get a bit of rest, clean yourselves up, whatever you need. I’d just like to get some prey on the pile by sunhigh.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Tiny said with a purr.

“I’d appreciate the help.” He paused, looking past Rushtail for a moment before continuing. “Looks like you’ve got some company. I’ll let you get back to it.”

With a dry smile and a quick nod, he turned and headed off on his own way.

Rushtail blinked, turning over his shoulder to see what he had meant. “Wha-”

“What happened to you?!” The voice was Morningflower. No doubt about it. And by the time Tiny had turned to face her, she had already collided with Rushtail, fussing over his pelt with wild eyes.

Rushtail jolted under the attention. “Ah! H-hey, I’m alright! I’m fine, I’ll be-”

“ Fine?! ” Morningflower protested. “Look at you! You’re covered in blood and dirt! StarClan, what did you get yourself into? I thought you were just going on border patrol! You look worse than when the fox got you!”

Rushtail chuckled nervously. “Ah, well, see-”

“It’s not his,” Tiny interjected.

Rushtail almost seemed embarrassed to know Tiny was looking at him.

Still, Morningflower paused, already trying to clean Rushtail like a mother after an unruly kit. “What? What happened?”

Tiny gave an uneasy smile, hoping her instinct to help would extend to him and grant him some leniency in his words. “It’s mostly ShadowClan, I believe. We had a fight with them at the border - one they started, mind. He may have some cuts, but most of that should be Wolfstep’s.”

Morningflower’s gaze shifted unreadably. “You fought Wolfstep?”

Rushtail nodded, a bit of pride flushing his face.

But Morningflower’s face twisted. “On your own?!”

Rushtail stammered. “Ah, we- I mean-”

“He did,” Tiny said. “It was quite a sight, too. He jumped in to save Onewhisker when we were ambushed. His quick thinking is the only reason we’re all back in our respective pieces. I really owe him one.” He smirked a bit. “And I’m sure Onewhisker would say the same, if his pride didn’t get in the way.”

Morningflower chuckled, seemingly forgetting her worry. “Ah, I see. So my hare-brained little brother got himself into trouble again, did he?”

Rushtail shrugged. “A bit. Not going to let Deadfoot yell at him for it, but I’m definitely going to tease him about it later.Besides, it’s not like the clan won’t be buzzing about all this. Palecloud made some nasty work of those fox-hearts.”

Morningflower gave Rushtail an odd look, finally letting him slip from her grasp. “You’re calling him Palecloud now,” she noted.

Rushtail paused, looking a little surprised at himself. “I guess so,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have to,” Tiny offered.

Rushtail scoffed, giving him a playful bat to the shoulder. “Hey, kittypet. After today, you’ve definitely earned it.”

Tiny couldn’t help but remember how much vitriol that word had come with the first time Rushtail called him that, spat out like blood and meant as an unashamed insult.

It felt different now. Warmer, with fewer thorns.

Maybe just that the cat saying it was no longer a stranger. Certainly not a friend yet, but a colleague?

Tiny smiled a bit at the thought.

“Well, I appreciate it,” he said, trying to hide a small purr that rose in his throat. “Coming from you, it means quite a bit.”

“Takes a lot to get compliments out of me,” Rushtail said, puffing out his chest.

Tiny gave a smirk. “Oh, really? You seemed to have quite a few compliments for Morningflower on that patrol-”

“Hey, hey!” Rushtail interrupted, giving Tiny a shove. “Not in front of her, fox-tongue!” he hissed, though the gesture was clearly playful.

Tiny chuckled, giving a half-hearted shove back.

“Palebird!” a voice called out from behind him. Tiny turned around to see Plumclaw, one of WindClan’s elders, making her way towards him with the brightest of smiles on her face.

 “Where have you been?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with an unexpected familiarity. “You’ve been out for days! Hickorynose said you were dead, but I knew better!”

Before Tiny could speak, a flash of midnight-black fur cut in front of him, rushing up to meet Plumclaw before she got too far.

“Ma, please,” Darkfoot begged her, trying to nudge her back towards the elders’ den. “You’re sick.”

Plumclaw only pressed back, gently pushing him out of the way with her shoulder. “You worry too much, Darkpaw,” she purred. “I don’t feel sick. I feel fine! Right as rain! Palebird’s back, after all!” 

She beamed, turning back to Tiny with joy sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, you’ve missed so much! Where’ve you been hiding all this time?”

Tiny winced a little, but tried to keep a brave face. “Ah…I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Palecloud, Tallstar’s son. Remember? We’ve spoken a few times.”

Plumclaw’s eyes shifted curiously. “Pale…cloud? That’s what you’re going by these days?”

Tiny shook his head. “I’m sorry, Plumclaw, but I’m not Palebird.”

She paused, looking him over as she tried to remember. It seemed she was aware that she should have the answer, but simply didn’t.

“You are awful small,” she said at last. “Palebird I knew was tall as the heather. And you’re dark, too. Where have you come from? What are you doing in WindClan?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you have Palebird’s face?”

“Ah…Tiny, I’m so sorry about all this,” Darkfoot said. “Her mind’s not…where it used to be.”

He sighed, turning back to the elder. “Come on, Ma. Let’s get you back to your nest.”

Plumclaw turned to him, looking a bit puzzled. “Oh? But didn’t Reedfeather just say we needed a hunting patrol? No use in sitting around here like a lump, is there?”

Tiny gave her a warm smile. “I’ve got it, don’t worry,” he offered. “It’s lapwing season, after all. Prey should be running well enough.”

At this, something clicked in Plumclaw’s head. “Oh! Lapwings! Those were always my favorite.”

I knew that, Tiny thought. 

Why did I know that?

“Tallpaw used to bring me lapwings,” Plumclaw continued. “His parents may be tunnelers, but he’s got the fastest paws in the clan, I tell you! One of these days, he’ll take off so fast he’ll leave his tail behind, I swear! Oh, Sandgorse was red to his ears when Heatherstar gave his only son to Dawnstripe, but I think the little thing’s really come into his own on the moors!”

Tiny chuckled. “I’ll see if I can grab you one.”

“Ah, watch out for ShadowClan, though!” she warned. “They’ve been getting worse, haven’t they? Cedarstar was bad enough, but the new one…Raggedstar? He’s a menace and a half!”

Darkfoot looked haunted at the state of the conversation. He gave her another nudge, a little more forceful this time. “Please, Ma. I’m sure Tiny-” He froze, turning back to Tiny. “Are you going by Palecloud now? Sorry, should have asked before.”

Tiny shrugged. “Either one is fine.”

Darkfoot nodded, returning to Plumclaw. “I’m sure Palecloud can handle himself. He’s a smart cat. Besides, ground’s still too wet for tunnel work today.”

Plumclaw paused. “Well, I suppose I can take a break,” she relented, turning back to follow him into the elders’ den. “I’m sure my sons can keep an eye on the clan while I’m resting.”

“That’s right,” Darkfoot agreed. “No use pushing yourself when the moor runners have it under control. ShadowClan sure won’t expect our strongest still in camp on a warm day like this, will they?”

Finally, after much fussing, the elder turned back into the den, Darkfoot looking back over his shoulder to give a thankful nod.

“Sons?” Tiny muttered, mostly to himself.

“Darkfoot and Crowfur,” Rushtail leaned in to explain.

Tiny felt his eyes grow wide. “They’re brothers?” 

Rushtail nodded. “Littermates, even. They hate saying it, though. Hate the thought of being related to each other.”

Morningflower’s whiskers twitched. “They even hate working with each other. Darkfoot once rerouted an escape tunnel so he could avoid running into Crowfur on the job.” She chuckled a little. “Mudclaw made us fill it in ourselves when he found out. Darkfoot worked his tail off for moons before any of us let him forget it.”

“Wish he’d gone through with his plan to be a moor runner,” Crowfur hissed, butting in so abruptly that even Rushtail jumped at the sound of his voice. “Then I could work in peace, at least.”

Rushtail let the fur on the back of his neck settle. “You were the one who told him to be a moor runner,” he argued. “He’s happy in the tunnels.”

“And he does better work than you,” Morningflower added, casting Crowfur something between a sneer and a smirk. “Nearly knocked down a tunnel on poor Tornear just a few days ago, didn’t you? He may not know direction, but at least he knows structure. Seriously, if you’re so hungry for blood, you’d do better on the moors yourself.”

Tiny nodded. “Could be up here hunting ShadowClan with Rushtail and I. Put some bite to your bark.”

Crowfur huffed. “I became a tunneler for the strategy. Darkfoot did it because he was too scared to show his face above ground.”

Morningflower rolled her eyes. “And I did it to gossip with my sister all day. Your point? We’re not the apprentices we started as.”

Crowfur squared his shoulders, angling his posture to stand above her. “My point is that he’s weak. A sparrow amongst ravens. Even now, he spends his days lazing about, still mewling after mother, playing in the heather with some pretty molly in the middle of a war, making friends with the kittypet bastards instead of reinforcing our borders and making WindClan strong. He’s the reason Brokenstar thinks he can walk all over us.”

Morningflower didn’t so much as twitch under his gaze, simply looking unimpressed with his display. “Would it kill you to have a little respect for your clanmates? Even if you don’t have any for your littermate.”

“I’ll respect them when they’ve earned it,” he hissed, inching closer to try and intimidate her once more.

“Well, the ‘kittypet bastard’ just sent Clawface to the mud with some new scars to remember him by,” Rushtail pointed out, flicking his tail dismissively. “Think you could spare a ‘thank you’ for putting on that strong face you’ve been asking for?”

Crowfur’s eyes narrowed, turning to Tiny with undue scrutiny. “You won a single fight with ShadowClan. Good job. Do it twenty more times and we’ll see if you’re worth the prey you gorge yourself on.”

Tiny blinked. “The prey I catch?”

“The prey you steal from more deserving cats by feeding it to a couple of foolish kits who waste our time and energy with wild fox chases and grievous wounds.”

Tiny’s heart sank. “Enacting your plan, if you recall.”

Crowfur sneered. “Like idiots. If we had done what I had asked in the first place, with trained warriors and a good strategy, your brother wouldn’t be stuck as a cautionary tale. Now he’ll retire the moment he’s apprenticed. Typical kittypet. Shows up, eats our food, and provides nothing but problems to the clan he’s supposed to be supporting.”

Tiny felt a vile fury bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “He’s not retiring,” he growled. “He’ll be a tunneler.”

And he’ll be a great one , he thought.

“Great!” Crowfur snapped, rolling his eyes. “More dead weight to carry around. With any luck, he’ll be Darkfoot’s apprentice, and we’ll have to deal with two of him .”

Morningflower huffed, lashing her tail at the bickering toms. “Do you have anything more productive to do than complain?” she asked, the question aimed solely at Crowfur.

Rushtail nodded. “You’re bumming me out,” he agreed.

Crowfur turned to them, ears pinned back to his head. He flashed his teeth at them before turning back to Tiny. “Don’t you?”

“We just got back from a patrol,” Tiny explained, trying to keep his voice low and cool. “One I’m sure Deadfoot would love some help finishing, if you have nothing better to do than whine about my brother’s life not meeting your standards of efficiency. Look at you. Talking about wasting effort on the future of our clan while you’re not even willing to spend effort on its present.”

“Find something to do,” Morningflower offered. “Preferably something that needs your mouth shut.”

“Go eat bees,” Rushtail said plainly.

Crowfur whipped around to face him, his eyes full of fire. Rushtail didn’t even flinch. Tiny saw that fire in Crowfur’s eyes churn, scanning for any weakness to exploit, but coming up empty. Instead, he gave a great huff of annoyance and turned to walk away, his tail still puffed up and lashing even as he grumbled off without another word.

Rushtail sighed, releasing a tense posture that Tiny didn’t realize he was holding. “Yikes. I’d rather fight Wolfstep again.”

Tiny nodded. “I’d take Clawface in a heartbeat. Has he always been so unpleasant?”

“Afraid so,” said Darkfoot, making his way towards the group, his expression glum. “Never had a conversation with him I didn’t regret. He’s been even worse after Pa’s death.”

Tiny noticed how his eyes stayed on Crowfur, even as his brother slunk away. He stared with a nostalgic sadness - one Tiny was painfully familiar with.

“He reminds me of my littermates.”

Darkfoot’s ears pricked at the comment. “Really now?”

Morningflower shot Tiny an apologetic look. “I remember. You introduced me. Ruby and Socks, right?”

Rushtail blinked. “How many kits does Tallstar have running around?” he asked, halfway between joking and bewildered.

Tiny paused. “Three in the first litter, five in the second. Eight in total.”

Rushtail’s eyes grew wide in shock.

“And your littermates are the only ones as bitter as mine?” asked Darkfoot teasingly, though his gaze was still grim.

Tiny nodded. “The others are sweet. Too sweet for warrior life, I’m afraid. But Rusty’s got a heart of fire. He’ll be quite the warrior one day, I’m sure of it.”

Darkfoot’s face finally managed a smile. “So sure you’re staying? I mean, I reckon you’d have a hard time pulling Rusty out of here now that he’s got a battle with a fox to his name. But you? You’re sticking around?”

Tiny paused. Could he really stay here?

Furthermore, could he ever go back?

He gave a smirk up at Darkfoot. “Yeah. I think I need to be here.”

Darkfoot chuckled, giving Tiny a playful shove with his shoulder. “Good to hear it. You’re good company.”

Rushtail shrugged a little. “Well, I guess we can make some more room in the grass for you. It’s not gonna be quite as cozy as the Nursery, hope you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Tiny said, rolling his eyes. “Pigeonflight never shuts up about it.”

Morningflower giggled. “‘Oh, why don’t we have a nice and cozy den? Why do the apprentices get one and I don’t?’” she mocked, doing a rather convincing impression of her clanmate’s monotone complaining.

Rushtail laughed with her. “‘ShadowClan has one, and they eat frogs!’” he continued, his impression slightly worse. “‘Frogs and crowfood! You telling me I can’t have a roof over my head but the frog-eaters can?’”

Darkfoot’s demeanor began to soften, laughing along at the jokes. “Oh, and then Deadfoot’s all ‘It’s a privilege to sleep under the stars! Strengthens our bonds with our ancestors!’”

“‘If our ancestors favored us so much, you’d think they’d send storms to ShadowClan for their cruelty, not out here to soak honest warriors to the bone!’” Morningflower continued.

Tiny found himself chuckling with the group, imagining Pigeonflight’s face of indignation as his brother gave him the old ‘Windstar managed just fine on these moors in her time’ spiel. His heart felt lighter as his laughter came easy, no thoughts of war and bloodshed to weigh him down, no concerns for a wild fox or encroaching rival clan.

Finally, something in him began to feel at home.

Take a left.

Tiny knew that the voice in his head was strangely talkative today. He normally couldn’t get it to answer him when he asked, but as soon as he set a paw in the tunnels, it couldn’t help but pipe up.

It . That felt like the wrong word. The voice was so feminine, warm yet stern like a mother’s guiding words, that he had always called it her . She helped him through, she sorted his thoughts when his mind ran wild.

And it was her voice guiding him through the darkness.

Of course, when asked if she was okay with being addressed as such, she never responded. Simply disappeared like she was never there to begin with.

He would have considered her a hallucination, but so much of what she had to say was something he didn’t know.

Not least of which being the layout of the tunnels. Like she knew them like the back of her paws.

Right at this fork, then out through the first opening you see. You’ll come out where Morningflower took you last time.

Close enough to the Treecut Place.

And so he managed, slipping out in the dead of night without needing a tunneler escort, this time. Though it was certainly a lonely walk, and about twice the distance, it was a much safer one than the journey to Fourtrees had been.

He made his way out of the tunnels, thanking every star in the night sky that Tallstar had let him be a moor runner, and slunk into the shadows, keeping close to the fenceline as to not be seen by any stray ThunderClan warriors.

Though he couldn’t imagine anyone patrolling at this hour.

Finally, though, the scent of freshly cut wood met his nose, and he looked up to see the Tallpines stretching towards the sky.

Leopardfur had surely beaten him here, and he wasn’t keen on making her wait any longer.

Slipping between the croaking old slats of the fence, he weaved his way in, being sure to avoid the sleeping monsters on his way.

At least he was sure they wouldn’t be randomly discovered. Cats didn’t tend to wander this way alone.

His eyes scanned the darkness, eventually catching on a telltale glint of golden fur in the moonlight. He made his way over, giving a contented trill of a greeting.

Leopardfur turned to him with a curious smile. “Took you long enough,” she jested.

“It’s a long walk,” Tiny pointed out.

“I still don’t know how in StarClan’s name you managed to get past the Thunderheads without getting caught.”

Tiny smirked. “Want to know the truth? There’s a massive network of underground tunnels that WindClan has been maintaining since the founding of the clans. The ghost that’s been following me ever since I was a kit led me through them to find you undetected.”

Leopardfur’s face dropped. “Okay, smart-ears. If you’re not willing to tell me, just say so. Don’t bother lying to my face like that.”

Tiny chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. But we’ve got business, don’t we?”

Leopardfur nodded curtly. “We do. And I have some news, at least. Turns out watermint - that herb Thistleclaw was found in - is for exactly that purpose. It’s for hiding the scent of death.”

“The scent of death?” Tiny echoed, cocking his head. “So the watermint covered the scent of his corpse?”

“That’s it. My guess is they wanted to make sure the corpse got found by a patrol, not a predator. And if that’s the case, it did its job well. Means we’re searching for a ruthless killer.”

Tiny paused. “Not my first thought,” he mumbled.

Leopardfur blinked. “Oh? Then what’s your take?”

“Seems like whoever did this has some decent herb knowledge,” he pointed out. “At least enough to know-”

“Tiny!”

A chipper voice cut through his thoughts like claws. He wheeled around, eyes wild, looking around for the source of the voice.

On top of the fence sat a cat, proud and lean, a green band wrapped around her cream neck, sky-blue eyes peering out from deep brown fur as she smiled down at him, so brightly he could almost hear it.

A wave of adrenaline shot through him as she started making her way towards the pair.

“Sasha?” he called back, trying not to tense up too much as the kittypet approached.

He could feel that Leopardfur wasn’t granting the same courtesy.

Sasha beamed at him, her tail swaying gently behind her. “It’s been a while! Where have you been? How’s Jake and the little ones?”

Leopardfur bristled behind him. “ Tiny? ” she nearly hissed. “Palecloud, do you know this cat?”

Tiny swallowed, trying to greet his old friend with warmth even as his new friend grew colder beside him. “Long story,” he started. “Papa’s doing well. I just visited him not too long ago. You should stop by if you have the time. He seems a little lonely these days, now that all the kits are gone and I’m out of the house.”

Sasha blinked a little in surprise. “Oh? You’re not living with him anymore?”

Tiny shook his head. “Not anymore. I’ve joined WindClan, as has Rusty. With our father, Tallstar.”

“A Clan!” Sasha squeaked. “Like those horrid wild cats that fight to survive and eat living animals and sleep out in the rain? Those ones?”

Tiny couldn’t help but chuckle. “The very same. Though I’d be careful what company you say those words in,” he said, flicking his tail back to Leopardfur.

The RiverClan warrior sneered at the comment. “Horrid wild cats? What sort of stories do you kittypets tell about us?”

Sasha’s eyes grew wide, now looking over at Leopardfur. She shrank down, almost seeming afraid of the muscular wild cat she now found herself speaking to. “O-oh! I’m so sorry, ma’am, it’s just…yes, the stories. They aren’t…pleasant. They say you’re all feral murderers and…”

She cleared her throat and let out an awkward laugh, her gaze falling away. “Erm, please forgive me. All I’ve heard on the subject came from Pine.”

“Pine?” Leopardfur asked, clearly addressing Tiny.

“Pinestar, of ThunderClan, in his kittypet days,” he explained. Turning back to Sasha, he continued. “You’ll be happy to know his stories were…inflated. The clans are actually civilized groups, with rules and roles, and many cats who work hard every day to make life easier for each other. Pine was just trying to scare you, that’s all.”

Leopardfur gave a skeptical nod. “We sleep in dens and hunt for our food to feed those who cannot feed themselves. There are consequences for those who hurt others, and though we do have our fair share of territory disputes, we are all civilized . The clans are there so that no one goes hungry or sleeps alone.”

Sasha managed to relax, her eyes sparkling a little at the depiction of the clans. “Wow. I…do apologize for what I said. I fear we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m Sasha, a friend of Tiny’s father.”

“I’m Leopardfur, RiverClan warrior. I take it you’ve never met a warrior before?”

Sasha shook her head. “Not in my life! Well…outside a chance meeting, but that’s all.”

Tiny blinked. “Really? You met someone? Who?”

Sasha shrugged. “It was a brief meeting, a while ago. When the snow was still harsh but the ice wasn’t so thick. I was out one day. Around here, actually. When this pretty little thing came walking beside the river covered in blood! I asked what happened, as she seemed pretty shaken, but she just said it wasn’t hers!” She shuddered recalling the day. “She looked like death.”

Leopardfur’s gaze grew a touch less cautious. “I can see why you’d be so hesitant to lend me your trust.”

But something stirred in Tiny’s mind. “A few moons ago?” he asked. “In leaf-bare? What did she look like?”

“I didn’t get a good look at her,” Sasha admitted. “But she had dark fur, I remember that. And she was wet. Not just bloody, but like she had just gone for a swim or…or fallen in the river or something. And her voice was shaking like a leaf! No wonder, since it was so cold out. I asked her if she needed help but she just kind of huffed and said she was busy and walked off. I can’t imagine what kind of nightmare the poor thing had been dealing with. So I…try not to mess with the wild cats.”

Tiny thought on this for a moment. Perhaps a moment too long, as Leopardfur soon turned to him. “You don’t think that could be our killer, do you?”

“The timeline matches up well,” he muttered. “A dark-furred molly, though. That’s an interesting point.”

Sasha froze. “A killer?! And you’re looking for her?”

Tiny sighed. “It’s…incredibly complicated. But it’s a cold case we’re trying to piece together.” He smiled up at her, trying not to look too grim. “You’ve been extremely helpful, you have no idea.”

“Which way did she head when she left?” Leopardfur asked.

“Ah, I don’t remember. She just ducked away into a bush, really.” Sasha shook her head. “And I never saw her again.”

Leopardfur's face pulled back in a pensive pout. “Could be either clan, still.”

“But we have a description,” Tiny pointed out. “Who matches?”

Leopardfur paused. “Shimmerpelt and Petaldust. Those would really be the only ones. Vixenleap would fit, but she’s too young. ThunderClan would be…”

“Mousefur, Brindleface, Dappletail, or Spottedleaf,” Tiny offered.

“Or…” Leopardfur mulled her thoughts for a moment. “Bluestar? She’s dark enough, right?” She almost sounded enticed by the idea.

But Tiny shook his head. “She shines like the moon. Sasha would have noticed.”

“No, she was dark,” said Sasha. “Shadow dark.”

“Probably not Brindleface or Dappletail, then. They’re light enough not to-”

“Shadow dark?” Tiny cut in.

“Yeah. And slipped in and out faster than I could think.”

Tiny’s mind whirred again. “Thank you for all this, Sasha. You’ve been a big help.”

Sasha seemed to get the hint. “Oh, of course!” she chirped, turning to leave. “Good luck with your hunt, you two! And Leopardfur…I’m sorry, again. It was nice to meet you.”

Something odd shone in Leopardfur’s gaze. “Likewise.”

With that, Sasha made her way back to the fence, jumping up with a grace that always made Tiny think she would have made a fine warrior herself. But Tiny knew her heart wasn’t meant for the wild.

Leopardfur turned to him. “You’ve got that look again. What are you thinking?”

There was an unsettling familiarity with which she made that comment.

Tiny ignored it. “Who would ShadowClan have?”

“I’m sorry? Sunningrocks is our contested point! It doesn’t make sense for ShadowClan to step in!”

“I know. But what if that was the purpose? What if someone from ShadowClan or WindClan did this?”

She now looked well and truly bewildered. “What? And risk getting caught like that? Why? What could be worth that? ”

“What if the point was to stretch resources too thin?” he asked. “What if ShadowClan sparked a war so ThunderClan couldn’t help WindClan?” 

“You really think they’d go through the trouble?”

He shrugged. “Just an idea I’m playing with. Not really sure it has any meat.”

Leopardfur paused. “Alright. What does that change our pool to?”

“We’re short on mollies at the moment. But…there are some candidates. Morningflower, Wrenflight, Sorrelshine, Plumclaw…but I’ll be honest, I don’t see any of them with a whiff of a motive.”

“ShadowClan would add a good half dozen cats, though,” Leopardfur offered. “Yellowfang, Darkflower, Fernshade, Hollyflower, Featherstorm, Crowtail…and, uh…Ashfur, maybe? He’s dark, too.”

Tiny blinked. “He’s not a molly though, is he?”

“No, but he’s sun-hearted.”

“Sun-hearted?”

“Toms who were born mollies,” Leopardfur explained. “Don’t have them where you come from?”

“We do,” said Tiny, noting the way she phrased the question to be…a little alienating. “I’ve just never heard the term.”

She shrugged. “Well, in any case, it’s reasonable that she would’ve heard his voice and thought he was a molly, is my point. Since it doesn’t sound like they had enough of a chat to get to know each other. It’s worth looking into.”

Tiny nodded. “Alright, then. Means. Who’s got herb knowledge?”

“Anyone, if they ask the right questions,” Leopardfur started. “Spottedleaf and Yellowfang are medicine cats. But Yellowfang has always hated war. Became a medicine cat to get away from it. Or so they say. They do also say she eats kits.”

“Spottedleaf had told me a few times that she shares a similar opinion on the war. So…the lead might not get us much.”

Leopardfur sighed. “Back to an empty pile.”

Tiny took a second. “Alright, let’s meet again after the next Gathering. It’ll give us time to shake suspicion, and maybe we can gather more info on ShadowClan cats. We’ve got some ideas to work with, at least.”

Leopardfur nodded, not looking particularly hopeful. “Alright. Next Gathering, back here. See you then, I suppose.”

Tiny finally managed to breach the surface back in WindClan, gasping for air the very second his whiskers felt wind-

And locked eyes with Rushtail.

The glare the pale warrior gave him could have cut to the bone.

“I knew it,” he growled, unsheathing his claws, his muscles tensed and ready to pounce. “You fox-hearted, snake-tongued-”

“I-I can explain,” Tiny stuttered, slipping out of the tunnels and stepping back onto more even ground. If he had to defend himself, he’d rather do it up here than down there.

“Explain fast,” Rushtail hissed.

At least he seemed to come alone.

Tiny swallowed. “I’m trying to solve a cold case. Leopardfur and I have been-”

Rushtail’s eyes narrowed. “Leopardfur?!” he snapped. “So that’s who you’ve been sneaking off to see?”

“She needed my help,” Tiny continued. “When Barkface brought me to RiverClan as his escort, I met briefly with Crookedstar. He said he would help us against ShadowClan if he weren’t in a war of his own. Sunningrocks takes up all of his resources, and-”

Rushtail huffed, pinning his ears back to his head. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“Because I can help!” Tiny explained, trying not to raise his voice. He didn’t want any cat who may have been out tonight to overhear. “Listen, the Sunningrocks truce was broken with Thistleclaw’s death. But it wasn’t a combined effort from RiverClan to break the truce. Someone, somewhere, killed a ThunderClan cat and pinned the blame on RiverClan and sparked a war. If we can find out who, there may be a chance to repair things. And then RiverClan and ThunderClan may be more amicable to helping us .”

He took a steadying breath, feeling smaller than he ever had before in his life. “And now that I’ve seen how bad it is…how dirty ShadowClan fights, and how entitled they feel to WindClan’s territory…I know I’m doing the right thing. If there’s even a chance that this ends with us getting allies, then I’m willing to do it.”

Rushtail’s whiskers twitched. “You can’t think I’ll just let you get away with it, can you? You’re making a mockery of the Code! The Code I’ve trained my whole life to uphold! And you just walk in here, some pampered little kittypet, thinking a drop of warrior’s blood makes you the hero who will save us all? You think rules don’t apply to you? Like you’re some prophesied savior who can do whatever you want?”

He bared his teeth. “This is all a game to you, isn’t it? You’re just a little kittypet on the adventure of a lifetime, having fun in the wild like those stories your daddy used to tell you, frolicking in the heather and living free from rules and reason? Is that all this is to you?!”

“No!” Tiny called back. “It’s life and death! A dog-eat-dog world of claws and teeth! That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing!”

“Oh, really?” Rushtail scoffed. “So that’s why I find you out here, sneaking around with some pretty RiverClan molly, one who rumor can’t help but notice just so happens to be unspoken for, and around your age? That’s why you’re running off to go meet her in the dead of night on neutral territory without so much as a whisper to your own clan and kin?!”

Something cold shocked through Tiny. “You think I’m… courting her?!”

Rushtail sneered. “Wouldn’t be the first time cats have done something so hare-brained. Stars above, you’re only here because Tallstar couldn’t keep his paws off some little kittypet himself! Twice over, may I remind you. Unless you want to tell me all eight of you are littermates?”

Tiny couldn’t think of anything to do but shake his head. “I…I’m not out there for that! ” He bit his tongue. “Honestly, it hadn’t even crossed my mind that it could be seen that way.”

“Really?!” Rushtail barked. “Not once did you think how bad this looks?!”

Tiny’s gaze dropped to his paws.

He could almost hear something in Rushtail relax. Not like he was letting his guard down, but like he was genuinely surprised. “Really?” he nearly whispered, completely incredulous.

Tiny nodded. “I just…” He sighed, but it did nothing to quell the tension in his body. “I knew it was against the Code. I knew I wasn’t supposed to. But the only reason I ever would have considered it is if I thought I was doing the right thing. After those stories about Reedfeather and…quite frankly, how you’ve been treating me, I never had half an idea that crossing borders for… that… was anything short of a mistake. But Thistleclaw’s murder is important to me. It’s something I’m willing to cross borders and boundaries for, even if it makes me…” He took a shaky breath, turning back to look at Rushtail. “Even if it’s not what I’m supposed to do, I feel it’s the right thing to do. Not for a molly or for fun.”

Rushtail didn’t respond. He simply stared, almost through him, weighing his options and words.

Tiny frowned. “But I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a selfish reason for this,” he muttered.

Rushtail’s ears pricked up. “And what’s that?”

Tiny shook his head. “You ever seen a kittypet with scars like mine? You ever seen a kittypet that screams in his sleep?”

Another pause. “Can’t say that I have.”

“I was young. Younger than Rusty is now. I slipped out of the fence, trying to run off into the forest on my own. To get away from my littermates. And I found ThunderClan. Thistleclaw and his apprentice, Tigerpaw. He ordered Tigerpaw to kill me, to make an example of me. He almost looked disappointed to be told to let me live. If it were up to him, I never…”

Rushtail blinked. “He tried to kill you.”

“If he had seriously tried, he would have succeeded. There were teeth in my windpipe. Tigerpaw only let up because Bluefur was there. If she weren’t, I’d have died right then and there.”

Rushtail’s eyes narrowed. “So then why do you want to avenge him? Sounds like he was pretty cruel to you.”

“I don’t,” Tiny corrected. “I want to know what happened. I want to know that he didn’t die randomly, as just some casualty in a war.” He gritted his teeth so hard he felt they might shatter. “I want to find who did that, and I want to ask why. I want to know that he was a cat worth hating as much as I do. I don’t wake up screaming because I’m back there. Every night I dream of him. Of some vile cat with my pelt and my face ripping him open, making him suffer and cry for all the pain he caused me. I see a version of myself I can’t stand, a cat who isn’t worth a second chance, and I wonder…if I became that cat, would he have been right to kill me then and there, before that’s who I became? Before I had a chance to be the worst version of myself?”

He felt something stir beneath his pelt. “I want some…vindication. Some idea that he’s not the hero of this story. I want to see who saw him as worthy of murder, and I want to know if they can live with themselves. Because if they can…then maybe there’s a world where I can, too.”

A look of horror was plastered on Rushtail’s face. “You would have killed him?” he asked breathlessly.

“Not me,” Tiny said, his voice barely louder than the breeze that rolled through the grass. “Everything I do, every day, is to remember that I’m not that cat. Because that version of myself…he’s the one who torments me. Not Thistleclaw, not Tigerpaw, just him. Scourge. I hate him. I hate the way he makes me feel like I can do these horrible things. I hate how often he’s shown me how it feels to kill. I hate the visions I see of slitting my brother’s throat, of watching his corpse hit the ground, and I hate how real it feels. It makes me sick to think that my own mind is doing these things to me. I can’t look at my own reflection without seeing the kind of cruel and senseless monster I know in my heart I could have been! I have to find them! I have to know that I’m not him! I have to know how they sleep at night, knowing they’ve done something like that! I have to-”

Tiny’s voice stopped working as a painful lump rose in his throat, his ears and cheeks burning red hot under all the pressure he had built up over all this time. All of it crashing out, making his body shake with exertion and a fear of himself that he couldn’t outgrow.

“I hate that I have claws,” he managed to choke. “What good are they for, if not death?”

Rushtail stood, his shoulders tensely squared and his eyes now avoidant, like he understood all the things Tiny had just said and had no clue how to respond. He looked down at his paws, flexing out his claws to look at them, his tail twitching nervously.

A long silence stretched between them as Tiny found he couldn’t do anything but cry, and Rushtail’s mind suddenly ran out of words to say.

Finally, he spoke up. “You really have to do this, huh?” he asked, his voice low.

Tiny could only manage to nod.

Rushtail gave a noncommittal one back. “Okay. Fine. Just…keep your nose out of trouble. Don’t do anything stupid. I won’t tell anyone, but I’ll-“ He cut himself off, taking a deep breath and trying to regain his composure and edge. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Tiny swallowed, finding his mouth terribly dry. “I won’t mess this up,” he croaked. “I can't. It’s my only chance.”

Chapter Text

Fire.

Cold and deep and suffocating and strangling.

A squeezing force ripped through Sandpaw as she sat, staring into the lifeless face of her fallen clanmate.

Those eyes. Those amber eyes, so lively and vibrant just this morning, with an unwavering fury behind them. A zest for life that hadn’t faltered even as the moons wore on. Now, they sat, lifeless, half-lidded, staring coldly at an unseen horizon, unblinking and dull. The dead air of the ThunderClan camp didn’t so much as ruffle her pelt, doing nothing to hide her unmoving chest. Her mouth hung open, blood steadily drying on her teeth and lips as the wound in her neck stopped gushing long ago.

Sandpaw couldn’t move.

She could barely breathe. Her chest felt so heavy, like it was full of rocks. The corners of her vision clouded, darkening, stretching, her senses both heightened and dulled, like the world froze in an instant and yet kept moving faster than she could keep up with.

Her body ached. She was shaking, she could tell. But there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Robinwing.

You’re far too young to be this rigid.

A warmth pressed against her, slowly pulling her senses back. She couldn’t move, couldn’t turn to see its source, but found herself painfully aware of it.

“Breathe.”

She was trying.

“Kitten, you’re okay.”

That voice…right. Speckletail. The scent was familiar, now. A long golden tail curled around her, soft fur pressed against her body, trying to pull her back, or keep her steady, or…

Something.

“Listen to me,” her grandmother murmured, her voice warm but firm, steady in the uneasy waver of the stillness. “You’re okay. You’re here, and I’m right here with you.”

Why was Speckletail comforting her? Robinwing was dead, for StarClan’s sake! Go help Brindleface, or Longtail, or-

Frostfur.

Her body tensed even further, her teeth chattering in her mouth. Begging for…something. To bite? To speak? She couldn’t tell.

“No, no. Come on. It’s alright.” Speckletail paused, shifting to put more pressure on her. “Can you look at me?”

Sandpaw shook her head.

“Okay, alright. That’s okay. Can you look at something else?”

She could try. Prying her eyes from the corpse that just this morning had a name and a life and a family on the verge of doubling, she let them flick through the crowd. Brindleface was sobbing, burying her face into Longtail’s fur as he tried to put on a brave face. Spottedleaf pushed through the crowd and snapped a few unkind words to a warrior - Mousefur, maybe? - who had tried to pull her attention to their own wounds. Fuzzypelt…

Oh, StarClan.

The poor, unkempt elder practically dragged himself out of the medicine den, his eyes hollow and distraught at the sight of his mate’s fallen body, lifeless on the dry earth. He wasn’t even strong enough to cry, simply pulling himself towards her and falling into her, as if his love and grief could bring her back. He fell, unmoving, before curling beside her, much to the dismay of a medicine cat currently trying to assess the body.

Everywhere Sandpaw looked were cats. Grieving, panicking, crying…

Tigerclaw met her gaze, his eyes burning with something vile behind them. They moved across her, seemingly through her, burning a hole in her chest she couldn’t stop from growing outward into a full panic that arched across her like lightning.

Her thoughts came back to her for one untethered moment of clarity.

You did this.

The words bit at the corners of her mind, making her chest ache and her stomach flip.

It felt like the words Tigerclaw meant to say.

You let her take you to Sunningrocks. You let her get the wild idea to play around in enemy territory. If you had just told her no, maybe she would have had the sense of caution.

Sandpaw’s head began swirling. Her breath came faster, harder, colder, each burning her from the inside.

It’s your fault.

Adrenaline shot her to her paws.

It’s your fault.

Speckletail’s protests were lost in a cloud of anxiety.

It’s your fault.

She had to run. Get away. Every moment she spent in camp was torture.

It’s your fault.

Run.

It’s your fault.

Get out.

It’s your fault.

Go anywhere but here.

It’s my fault.

One night, quiet and warm and still, just like this, these rocks ran red.

Moons ago, now. How many? She had lost count. At first she counted days, then moons, then seasons.

Was it the counting that sent her insane? The useless monotony of counting endless grains of sand as they slowly buried her under their unstoppable tide, the stream of time that waits for no cat? Or was it the beginning that spelled her end? The venom that shot through her, coursed through her veins, permeated every hair on her pelt with its acidic sting and acrid smell. A taste on her tongue she couldn’t place, that no longer tasted like blood.

Time can turn any cat insane.

And she’d spent her time. Here. Alone, as she always should have. No other fate would fit, and there was no cat more deserving of the crushing loneliness of watching the world turn without you. Watching everyone you had ever known and loved grow and change to fill the void you left behind. Watching them recover from a scar you know you gave them.

How long did they grieve her? How long did her nest stay cold, empty, until someone finally pulled her final echo from the den and threw it to the wind?

At the very least, she had time to think.

Time to remember what she had done wrong, the faces of those she had hurt, the way she broke their hearts and meant it .

And that’s the part that stung the most. Knowing she meant it.

But time passed without her. Days turned to moons. Kits became apprentices, were told the stories of how they should never come to these rocks alone, lest they meet the same fate she had long ago. The name of a friend turned to the name of a colleague, then a stranger, and gradually, all she became was a cautionary tale.

She could feel it in her bones, every time her name was muttered, spat out like dirt, sung like a victory cheer. Every time the story was altered, just slightly. Just enough to not matter.

But soon, the changes mattered.

Was she a martyr? A hero who stood against a storm? Did she fight for the side of tradition, or for the side of love? Was it an accident that killed her? Or something more harrowing? She could feel the stories shift and change, even as she stood, keeper of an unsavory truth.

Her fault. All of it. She pushed away what she didn’t have the heart to understand. And knowing her loss was considered a tragic one, a tale of someone who tried to do the right thing and simply couldn’t…

It hurt worse than the fangs.

Slowly, she would see them. Mentors walking by, showing the little ones she didn’t recognize, born moons after her death, what a horrid place this was. Vile and cold and unforgiving. Nothing here but snakes.

It’s where she belonged, wasn’t it?

The time marched on. One moon, she saw a young cat, his face eerily familiar. His eyes her own, the ones she had lost. Moons passed, and he grew, his face growing older and heavier, scarred and worn. He always scanned the rocks with pity, a yearning she knew he couldn’t understand.

One day, he came to say goodbye. The only cat who ever did, one who had never met her but knew she lingered. Turned his tail and left for something over the horizon. She wished him the best.

Moons later, she saw his face again, on a younger, more intense cat. He was weak when she first saw him. Small and unassuming. But as the moons flew by, he grew stronger, louder, angrier. Until she was sure he was her kin.

He never visited like the one before. Only ever saw the place as a field of death. His only solo excursion was met with an explosion of anger from his mentor, and his gaze never wandered her way again.

She took some cold comfort in knowing he at least understood the weight of this place.

She stayed, alone. No one dared cross the threshold on their own, for fear of the creatures she now called friends. The ones that had killed her. The cats came in pairs, at best. Three, four, five at a time, never letting each other out of their sight. It was smart, she knew, to not go it alone. Even the cats that crossed the border weren’t stupid enough to be caught out here without another pair of eyes to watch their back.

Then there were six. Three mentors, three apprentices. The kits bickered and spat and gave each other glares and curses. She could see a whisper of her face - her father’s face - in all of them.

Only the molly, with fur as light as the sand that suffocated her, bothered to look with emerald eyes and find her.

Like her brother had before.

She hoped it would be enough to convince the apprentice to return.

Don’t look back, just run.

Air burned like fire in Sandpaw’s chest.

She wasn’t even sure where she was headed, but as her senses clouded enough to block out the sounds of protests from her clanmates, all she knew was that she had to get out of there. Away from any eyes that could see her or hearts that could judge her. Away from the angry glare of her father and the broken sobs of her clan.

Her paws seemed to be taking her somewhere, at least. She wasn’t aware enough to tell where, her thoughts still filled with the image of Robinwing’s body lying cold on the ground.

Just pick a direction and go .

It was her fault. Somehow, some way, Sandpaw was responsible. If she hadn’t agreed to that stupid hunting spot, then-!

If she came out of this haze on the far side of WindClan territory, then so be it. All she needed was to run.

Something in her was aware of how Speckletail called after her, how Goldenflower had followed for as long as she could before losing the apprentice in the trees, how Bluestar had given the command that she not be left unattended.

It all fell on deaf ears.

Sandpaw wanted to be alone. She needed to be alone, before her heart gave out and she fell into unconsciousness. She could already feel the darkness creeping in against her. Not like falling asleep, but like drowning. Or, at least, what she imagined drowning to be like. 

The light so close, yet just out of reach as some force greater than any cat pulled her senses from her one by one. Her muscles roared as she crashed against the world, her ears useless in the senseless void, her eyes slowly swimming in blackness that spread like blood. The pain she felt as her pelt tore on thorns and branches was the only thing reminding her that she was still alive.

An ache in her chest and a storm in her stomach and the water level slowly rising in her mind as she was dragged deeper and deeper into a sea of her own thoughts.

Is this what dying felt like?

Is this what Robinwing saw?

The cacophony in her head kept thundering, pounding against her mind, her heart beating hard about halfway up her neck, now. She felt she might burst if she—

The earth came crashing into her all at once, knocking her teeth together in her jaw and shooting up to her nose. She could feel the chatter in her bones behind her eyes.

Her paws seemed to just give out. It was less that she had tripped, and more that her body had stopped being able to carry her. The ground below cradled her roughly, with sharp stones digging in at odd angles where her joints touched the earth, the smell of dust and gravel pulling some part of her mind back to reality.

She stayed, panting, exhausted, for what seemed like an eternity.

It was quiet out here. Deathly quiet, with only the occasional roar of the monsters on the Thunderpath to punctuate a mind she now found empty. Her heartbeat crashing in her ears, breath coming short in her chest, muscles burning like fire.

Quiet. Breathe. Don’t let it hurt.

“Long way from home, little one.”

Sandpaw’s eyes snapped up at the sound of a voice, a shot of adrenaline racing through her again. The voice was calm. Dangerously so, like the wind dropping out before a storm tore the sky apart. It echoed in her mind, bypassing her ears and seemingly coming from inside her skull.

She could feel it in her teeth.

Her eyes scanned the clearing in front of her. Neither hair nor whisker of a cat to be found, and yet-

Her heart dropped. How had she not noticed where she was?

Snakerocks.