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Chapter Text

You know, if I had to think of the happiest moment in my life, it would have to be when I first found my daughter.

I don't know how old I was, but way back then, I was taking my morning stroll in the woods. Back then, there weren't many other cats living nearby. So I kept to myself, as all of us did.

One thing that caught my eye, however, was a small bundle of white, brown, and ginger, right in the open of a dirt path. Upon inspection, it was a kit, not very old, who was sleeping. Who would leave a child this young out in the woods? Did their mother not consider a badger would get them?

I had no idea what to do with this kit - I mean, I was single, but I didn't want to leave them out in the open...

Falling to temptation, I carried the kit by the scruff, and went back to my den. They didn't squeal much - I was surprised - but rather stayed quiet. Their mother didn't care for them much. No worry. I would raise them myself. It wasn't long before I figured out I found a she-kit, and after the plants I found her under, I named her Blossom. Yes, you can criticize me for my name choices. No, I don't care.

... Now as I look back on it, I wonder if I did the right thing. Was her mother intending to come back? Blossom didn't speak much of her mother, as if she forgot her completely. Admittedly, she was young at the time, so her memories, from what I could gather, seemed to blur.

Then again, she never questioned my choice. I wasn't expecting to grow so close to this kit, actually... I expected her to leave as soon as she was full grown. But she still helps her old pops! Ha! My age might be getting to me, but I can still fend for myself... somewhat... I mean I can't stay long in direct sunlight or else....

...actually, I'm pretty thankful I took her in. I raised myself a lovely daughter, and in turn she loves me. We had a peaceful life - even after we went to Clear Sky, damn his soul, we were still given hospitality. Even after
I moved to Thunder's camp, we still met often. I don't think she liked being with Clear Sky very much to begin with, but she was too scared to show any sort of rebellion... sure, I was disappointed in her behavior toward Mothflight - was Clear Sky trying to raise her as a war machine? - but I can expect better of her in the future. My daughter wouldn't disappoint me - I raised her myself!

Right?

Chapter Text

"Birchface is the father, right? He's my brother! Of course they're his!" 

The dark tabby, gazing from above, let out a sigh. He knew who their actual father was. Granted, said parent was an awful cat, but... he didn't feel like he could do much better. Didn't feel confident enough for that. But dear StarClan, Frecklewish, did they LOOK like they were his? None of them were even dark tabbies!

"You LIED to us, to all of us! Who do you think you are, littering our Clan with these half-Clan creatures!"

"Mapleshade, we cannot allow you and your children to live in our Clan no longer. Leave or die."

Birchface could not believe what mouse-dung was he seeing. It wasn't like she told them about their actual father! Didn't she have the right not to tell? Oh, wait, Ravenwing found out, damn that tom. Never mind that, Birchface didn't understand why it was the kits' fault. They were still young! But apparently EXISTING was somehow problematic, in Oakstar's eyes.

Watching, watching, watching. He saw the terror, that fierce terror that struck them all. Frecklewish did nothing but watch. Gee, could Birchface be any more disappointed?

He was tired, tired of all this. Padding away from his spot, Birchface was wandering aimlessly in StarClan, in the open plains.

There, he spotted three small kits; one light brown, one tortoiseshell, and one dark brown, all in a pile. So, these were Mapleshade's kits?

The tortoiseshell one leaped out of the pile, and stared up at the dark tabby. Oh no, he wasn't - yeah he was. The baby face. He couldn't resist; Patchkit was too darn cute.

"So, you three are missing your father, right?" He tried interrogating them for some information.

"Where's mama?" the light brown kit asked.

"..." Oh, how would he tell them that they were dead? He couldn't bring himself to do that, oh no.

"Oh, your mama... is somewhere else. You'll see her soon, though... I hope..." Hopefully when she died, Mapleshade would come to StarClan, to be with her kits again.

At least, that was what Birchface hoped. As soon as she died, things would improve, right?

She never came.

No worry, Birchface could take care of this, at least he hoped. Three kits, like that for time eternal, wouldn't be too much trouble. Proving themselves to be quite obedient, they weren't much work. More for Birchface's favor.

Time passed. It was clear Mapleshade wasn't coming to StarClan any time soon. But that was okay. Her kits were with a responsible cat. They would be safe under Birchface's watch. He thought that their mother would be proud.

Hopefully, anyway.

Chapter Text

Shivering Rose didn't know when it first happened, but she did know it happened while they were training.

"Eat THIS!" the yellow tabby-and-white cat sneered, kicking dust as she ran for the nearest tree. Shivering Rose stood there, admiring her, and what confidence she had that she did not.

Annoyed, Blue Whisker ran back. "Why didn't you go after me?"

The dark-furred cat did not give a reply. She nervously turned her head away.

"Are you serious?" Impatient, she stormed off back to ThunderClan camp. Good StarClan, Thunder would NOT be happy about this.

---
The next time it happened, it was when they were full-grown cats - she knew that for sure - while they were patrolling their borders.

Blue Whisker and Shivering Rose happened to be placed on the same patrol. Lightningtail ordered them to go check out the one they had near RiverClan. Seemed simple enough.

As they went on the dirt path, Shivering Rose wasn't as much focused on her objective, than she was at the other she-cat. Almost as if she was distracted. The awkward feeling came back, and now she was trying to hide that look on her face. Dear StarClan why.

"Shivering Rose," Snail Shell was leading the patrol, "please stay focused. We don't want RiverClan scum to attack us from behind, or something."

"I don't think R-River would allow that to happen." RiverClan's leader was rather mellow; it wasn't in his nature to be particularly violent.

"You sure?" he snorted.

"What did RiverClan ever do to you?" She tried to make it seem less obvious to Snail Shell that something was wrong.

"Nothing," he answered, "I just like being petty."

Sighing, Shivering Rose was glad that the feeling was gone - she largely ignored Blue Whisker. Now that it was over-

They reached the border at Sunningrocks, which was divided by a river. Blue Whisker, being the little fox she was, decided to dip her paws into the stream.

Shivering Rose felt the feeling increasing tenfold. It was so embarrassing, yet she could not look away.

A little while later, they returned to camp, but Shivering Rose was lucky that she never noticed her staring.

---
The third time, it was at the Gathering. Cats gathered from all Clans to hear the news delivered by their leaders, which also served a place to share pride. Actually, scratch that, at this point it mostly was a pride contest.

Pine Needle from RiverClan was puffing his chest in order to look more intimidating, while ShadowClan's Flower Foot was flexing her legs. Blue Whisker was among the young cats showing off, trying to look doubly strong. That ThunderClan pride never seemed to stop with her, but at least she had substance to her, unlike half the toms in the Clan. Shivering Rose never had interest in Snail Shell or the others, only preferring to look at Blue Whisker.

Bragging turned to arguments. Flower Foot, Pine Needle, and Blue Whisker were debating who was the worst out of the three, who was strongest, and who was most loved by their leader. She could feel her anxiety rising - oh StarClan no what if she got hurt-

"I already said that River loves me the most!" Pine Needle spat. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I don't know about that - my dad's the leader, so clearly he likes me most." Flower Foot snorted back.

"I don't think so-!" Blue Whisker tackled the SkyClan warrior and pinned her to the ground. It was happening, but Shivering Rose wouldn't have that. As Flower Foot was ready to kick her off, Shivering Rose tackled Blue Whisker, freeing Flower Foot from her grip.

"What do you think you're doing?" Blue Whisker squirmed out of Shivering Rose's grip, and shook her fur.

"I was trying to save you! I don't want you to get into a fight!" The words came out of her mouth in a jumbled mess, as if they were never meant to be stringed together in that particular sentence.

"Why?" Her face was cold.

It was only a matter of time before she'd figure out. Best to admit it now. "I-I kind of like you, to be frank. Always have."

For a few heartbeats Blue Whisker was silent. Then she pinned Shivering Rose to the ground, knocking her off her feet. But it wasn't aggressive at all.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Her body relaxed, and released her hold on Shivering Rose. "I was thinking the same thing!"

Well, that went better than expected. "I thought you'd only be interested in toms. I didn't think you'd like me back."

Still awkward, but things were going okay. "Pfft, as if! You know, we should hang out more often! That'd be great, right!" She left Pine Needle and Flower Foot, and headed for ThunderClan's group. Basically feeling what would be called flustered, Shivering Rose followed.

---
It didn't take long before they were an official couple. Their families were both happy their kits were happy - even Moth Flight, Blue Whisker's mother, was proud to see her daughter in a working relationship. Even a bit after, they would have, with a little help, their own kits! All seemed well.

Even if things did have a bit of a rocky start.

Chapter Text

Mama would come back soon, mama would make things right.

It was getting so cold in here. Cold and wet. Water came from everywhere. Filled up the den.

Mama said she'd come back for me. She wouldn't lie. Mama never lies.

I can't breathe. I feel dizzy. Mama should be back soon.

I don't know how long she's been gone. Everything's dark in here.

Mama said she'd be back, right? Mama, please come back. I'm scared.

I'm alone. I'm so scared. Mama, don't lie. You will be back, okay? I won't be mad.

I can't feel anything. It all feels like nothing. Mama? Mama?!

I don't know what to do. Mama's always right, right?

Chapter Text

If it weren't for the fact that he was bound by WindClan, he would've went with her.

A couple of days after his vigil, Hootwhisker readied himself for the more serious tasks of a warrior. Nightcloud was so proud of him! Nightcloud, his mentor! Despite whatever Crowfeather threw at her when he was feeling bored, she still managed to train an apprentice! Boy, was Hootwhisker proud to show him!

Hootwhisker looked in what could barely be called the warriors den, and couldn't even feel her presence. She wasn't in the middle of camp, either. Or in dirtplace - okay maybe that was embarrassing to talk about but it still counted. Where was she?

Now that he thought of it, Breezepelt, her son, wasn't around either... he probably went out to think. Probably. He'd leave camp without warning often, to contemplate pretty much everything in existence.

They were fine, probably. They would return to camp soon. They always did. If they didn't, Onestar would send a patrol to find them, wouldn't he?

---
Days passed. Sunrise after sunrise, they never came back. Rumor spread that they both ran off to live as rogues. Hootwhisker couldn't imagine those two running off. Why those two? To where were they heading?

No, they weren't gone, they'd be back soon.

---
Hootwhisker couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that familiar speck of black fur. Or those skinny shapes in general. Nightcloud and Breezepelt were long gone, lost to WindClan for time eternal. Yet he still believed that one day, they would come back. 

The others, however, gave up hope. It had been six moons. Six moons since those two disappeared without a trace of their existence. Six moons since Hootwhisker had became a warrior, and six moons since Nightcloud failed to show up. 

Crowfeather received scowls wherever he went, with some Clanmates begging for his banishment. Some good number of WindClan cats suspected his treatment of his mate and kit was the cause of their departure; if he made cats leave, so should he.

Hootwhisker, however, did not want him to leave. Not because he liked him - StarClan no, he learned how awful he was from Nightcloud - but because if he was let free, he could easily harm Nightcloud and Breezepelt again. He didn't want that.

As much as he wanted them to come back, perhaps it would be best for them to stay away.

No other cat could believe the horrors he had imagined. Right?

Sometimes, he wish he left, too. He didn't want to be with Crowfeather, either. Tensions ran high in all four Clans. Onestar was proving an understandably harsh leader, but not one that would fit with Hootwhisker's life style. Of course, he couldn't change that, but it was uncomfortable to live with.

He wished he could've left with his mentor, too. Too late. Time's up, Hootwhisker.

She's gone, just like that.

Chapter Text

"StarClan isn't real!"

Sleekkit was squabbling about in the nursery; her siblings had gone out with Pinenose, and due to 'misbehavior', she was kitsat by Dawnpelt. At least she had some level of responsibility; she heard the really scary stories about how her brother fell into the lake! Sleekkit had no intention of turning into a cat icecube like Flametai.

"I wouldn't be surprised, actually," the cream she-cat snorted. "Then again, they did fight against the Dark Forest...."

Thanks, Dawnpelt, because a half-confirmation in passing was all that Sleekkit needed to start bouncing up and down.

"Please, settle down," she reprimanded, "I do not want to be in trouble for anything you end up doing, okay?"

The yellow tabby she-kit sat down.

"Maybe the Dark Forest is where we all go when we die! What if they made all those cats up?" Sleekkit never understood why her Clanmates would speak so highly of cats they couldn't even see. Nor did she get why they thought they would go up as stars, either. Despite practically being pawfed these teachings, she never saw much logic in them to begin with. So much coming from a kit no older than three moons.

"..." Well, Dawnpelt didn't expect the conversation to get this deep. 

"I think the Dark Forest is just making us practice stuff! Like, if we could all be good warriors!" Sleekkit continued.

"... I think that's enough, Sleekkit." Dawnpelt's expression read blank.

"What's wrong, Dawnpelt?" the yellow tabby kit mewed.

"I would just like to think my brother's still around, that's all," she sighed.

"Okay!" Sleekkit laid on her side, looking like a kitten sausage. "I'll go sleep now."

The cream she-cat looked back at Sleekkit. "Whatever makes your sticks float."

No matter what the other cats could try getting through her, Sleekkit wouldn't believe in the teachings of StarClan.

Even if she was too young to think of the proper language, attempts at converting her wouldn't work, not at all.

Chapter Text

From the moment he was able to walk, she was teaching him how to see the good in others. How even after everything, he would be able to make it through in the end.

From the moment her daughter was able to speak, she told her that she didn't belong to anyone, that she was in control of her own future, of her own fate.

Each and every one of them, she made sure to tell them that they were all worth something, that they could do something great!

They disappeared, one by one. Her Twolegs didn't care; they ran a business profiting on other Twolegs getting kits. Exploitation was common in this life - it was all she ever knew.

Yet, she wondered where they went.

Sometimes, she would get dreams, strange dreams, dreams of her children, doing great things in the world.

The flame-orange tabby would be leading other groups of cats, and they gave him such loud praise. She was proud of her son.

Several moments of his life were shown in a glimpse. Birth, death, life, rebirth. All common themes in these sort of dreams.

A brown-and-white tabby, her daughter, would have five kits of her own. The brother would take a white one back to his group. She didn't quite understand why, but it must have made sense in some way.

She grew old, yet was satisfied with her life. If she was happy, then so was her mother.

The other three kits of hers, she didn't know as well. A pale brown tabby ultimately lost his life to a monster. Such sorrow filled his mother. Whoever allowed this must also have been responsible for her miserable living condition.

The pale tortoiseshell-and-white cat was a frequent face in her dreams, too. She always saw her living peacefully with another she-cat. At least she was happy with her lover.

Lastly, a white cat with ginger patches was taken into a nest with many smaller dens inside. Some had other cats in there. Why was it like this, she did not understand.

The dens were filthy, and cats yowled their discontent. The Twolegs didn't care; exploitation was common in this life - it was all they ever knew.

The white cat was put in a den while the cat already inside, a gray-and-white tom, was yanked out. He screeched as he was relocated to another place in the nest. 

Then she heard a loud noise. She didn't understand.

Nutmeg woke up, startled.

Chapter Text

It was a dark and- no, all bad stories start off like that. I'll tell you from how I remember it.

Okay, it was dark, but not stormy. I was laying in my nest, trying to fall asleep. It was also in the middle of the day - us RiverClan cats usually scout at night, but that's not what I'm talking about.

Then, all of a sudden, Sunstrike came in, with no warning at all! I thought she died during the Dark Forest battle... but there she was!

Those patches of ginger and her white markings stood out against her otherwise dim pelt, and her eyes shined intensely, and as she was walking her muscles were rippling, which defined themselves from her otherwise slim build, and-

Oh, dear StarClan, I think I got carried away there. No worries!

So, she came up to me, and then she calls me by my name: Minnowtail! That felt... good to hear.

Sunstrike starts telling me about how awful it was for her to die. Grief filled me briefly for that one moment; the rest of the time, when we were talking about our Dark Forest days, I looked at her fondly.

For a moment, she stopped. She looked at me with watchful eyes, and a stiff posture. What happened?

She ended up going into another topic. Okay, then. "Minnowtail, I want you to know something."

I sat up, and I swear, if the hot feeling on my face was visible, then I would be bright red! "Y-yes?"

"Please, for StarClan's sake, try not to stay too long in the past."

I didn't understand; I asked Sunstrike to repeat again. Too long in the past? But I was trying not to think of her death! Okay, I wasn't over it completely, but I was still trying, right?

"I mean, even though I can't force you, I want you to move forward, you know?"

Even if I felt like I didn't know, deep down I did not deny I still missed her, still missed talking to her. I had to do it, though. Do it for her. Do what she couldn't do. Make her proud. 

"... I'll try, Sunstrike. But no promises," I told her shyly. "We're both just cats, after all. I'm working on it."

"As long as you understand, then I'm happy." Her figure slowly dimmed, and StarClan knew that I wanted to yowl out in protest. But I couldn't. I could, however, tell her something I wanted her to know, too.

"You know what! Here's something you don't know, too!" No going back. "I love you!"

Sunstrike didn't say anything back, and disappeared. The last I remembered of her was her face, which seemed to be forming a grim, before her figure faded.

Then, I woke up. It was all a dream, huh? But StarClan does visit cats in dreams.

I wonder if Sunstrike came for me, just to tell me that. I sure hope so. I love Sunstrike, if that wasn't obvious. But I don't know if she feels the same. The feeling of anticipation is killing me inside! Even though I'll never know, I'd like to think she likes me back! 

I hope so, anyway. I love her.

Chapter Text

Lilystem could hear their weak voices as they left her behind. One by one they left the bloodied battlegrounds, not bothering to look back for her.

"A shame she died," said a ginger-and-white she-cat. "She was always a resilient warrior."

She didn't look back for her, though. Just like the others.

Lilystem's body was matted with blood, sticking her to the ground like goop. A ThunderClan warrior knocked her out during the battle, and she didn't regain consciousness until after the fact.

Not like they cared, though. The silver tabby she-cat decided that she would return to RiverClan camp. Maybe her Clanmates would recognize her.

It was tiring - after all, she was in a battle, where everything was happening at once, with no breaks in between - but Lilystem trekked to her camp, crossing the river. Not only was she like a bright red berry, she was a matted, dirty, bright red berry. So much for being a RiverClan cat....

When she came back, there was no reaction. No cat noticed that someone else - someone clearly coated with blood and looking like a sentient fur lump - had strolled into their camp. Lilystem arrived without the slightest bit of attention - such disappointment filled her. Why did everyone forget her? Didn't they like her?

Time passed. Lilystem found two mates, had kits with one of them in place of the other's, and yet, only Brambleberry (and those two) noticed her. She was never assigned an apprentice, or put on any patrols.

It was as if she died.

Brambleberry tried to get Hailstar to listen, but he was too busy caught up in his other duties. Lilystem's mates often mentioned her to their Clanmates; yet besides those three, no other cats cared to notice her.

Oh, StarClan, did she hate it.

Even as she grew old, and her kits had kits of their own, she didn't get much more than her family and Brambleberry. Was this how it ended?

Forgotten by everyone except a few, doomed to fade early because she was purposely forgotten?

On her deathbed, she was visited by one of her surviving mates, and her living grandkits. No other cats came to watch her life slowly waste away.

Not like they would ever care, though. If they didn't care to notice her, then they surely wouldn't care to pay attention to her.

How awful. Lilystem couldn't do a thing, though. StarClan made a choice, and it was a poor one at that. Why, she wondered, would they ever condemn a cat who done no wrong to such fate?

Perhaps it was because they were selfish. Or cruel. Or both. But StarClan had no logic whatsoever, and it cost Lilystem's dignity and happiness, in the end.

The others did not care, and yet she tried to live with it. She carried the burden of being forgotten, only to suffer even after death.

What she didn't know, however, was that the others were suffering from the exact same thing.

Chapter Text

She never wanted to be with him. Nor did she want to raise his kits. Yet she had to - Pinestar was their leader, her leader. There was a sense of duty to having his kits. Even if she never wanted this to happen in the first place.

Even as her daughters slowly died, she still cared for them, tended to them. She wish she could do more for them. The fact their father left them when they weren't even a moon old wasn't helping others. Leopardfoot was left a single mother with three children, two who were on the verge of death. She still loved them, even if they were a disaster from the start.

Not their fault.

Even as her children died, she still grieved. At least, her Clanmates were also mourning. Yet her son was allegedly a doomed child. Not something that his mother should hear about.

Not his fault for being born evil, and not her fault for giving birth to him.

Even as her son slowly drifted away from her, more attracted to the idea of combat; the prospect of gaining respect from his Clanmates. Even as he got along more with Whitekit, and as he was prophecized by Goosefeather to become evil, she still looked out for him.

Not either of their faults.

When he became a warrior, he was much more brutal - whether it was due to his mentor's work or his personality was not clear - and clearly relentless. Yet, he still stuck by to the code, and his mother was proud, despite what Goosefeather would say.

It might've been his fault, but not hers.

Over the many, many moons, everything was changing; even Leopardfoot herself died. Yet, her son still trudged on, gaining great respect, like he wanted. Yet, he still killed Redtail, still tried to kill Bluestar, and still traumatized an apprentice. Just like what Goosefeather said.

Not her fault.

Even as if, over time, he merged RiverClan with ShadowClan, was killed by a tiny rogue cat over a deal (the very same one he taunted at a young age,) yet again tried to exact revenge on Firestar, even after he started a war between both afterlives... even after he had been killed by Firestar himself. 

Leopardfoot could never get herself to hate him completely, though. 

However, it was her fault.

Chapter Text

Clawface didn't know where he was. It was cold, dark, and dreary. This place did not feel like home, not one bit.

Where to start. Was it the glowing mushrooms growing on the side of a rotting cedar? Or, maybe it was the damp mud puddle below his feet. No, it DEFINITELY had to be the lack of sunlight, period.

This wasn't StarClan, was it?

The brown tom looked around. No other cats were nearby. No problem. He could look for them himself - he was Clawface, after all, one of ShadowClan's most respected warriors! He would do fine, of course he would.

---
He didn't know how long it had been since he got here. No cats really were around, huh. No matter, he would be alright without any others. No worries!

Nightpelt and the others? They'd return. Even Brokenstar and the others, eventually one of them would bound to find him. It was a matter of time before he was rightfully saved.

Clawface would be free soon, and he was looking forward to his escape.

---
It was clear he wasn't getting out any time soon.

Maggots manifested in his belly, his legs were as if they were cut with branches, and heavy weight formed around his paws. Sure, it wasn't real - it couldn't quite possibly be real - but the pain felt like it.

He couldn't escape. The forest was lined with thick walls of thin trees, with paths that led to nowhere. The light, being too dim, was of no use.

Clawface, the great might of ShadowClan, was trembling. Was it out of exhaustion, or was it out of fear? Maybe it was both. His legs collapsed, and he lay in the clearing. 

Closing his eyes, he decided to reflect: What caused him to go here? Was it killing that Spottedleaf, that ThunderClan cat, that set him to this... this prison? Or maybe it was going with Brokenstar? He was, admittedly, pretty cruel... or maybe it was that Graystripe kid, that one who made him black out. Clawface was certain he fainted, anyway.

He didn't know. Maybe it was for the better. If only he could talk this out with some other cat. If only there were other cats... if only, if only....

He opened his eyes. Everything was rotting. Even he was rotting, internally, as he desperately looked for any other company.

Clawface found nobody. Like usual. With a cry for help, he made some screeching noises, in an attempt to attract attention. None was received. No other cat was in these rotting, twisted woods, except for him.

He could only scream.

Chapter Text

Fear is a powerful thing; in this case, it can freeze a cat's state in its entirety. Petaldust, an experienced RiverClan warrior, happened to be its unfortunate victim today.

The tortoiseshell she-cat was assigned on an inside job in ThunderClan territory. Timberfur didn't explain what their objective was other than 'to lure out Thistleclaw'. Thistleclaw, being one of ThunderClan's toughest and experienced warriors, would be difficult to take down. He should've been, anyways.

Now she saw him doused in his own blood. Oh, how the mighty had fallen!

Yet, she couldn't give much care to him. The order was given to retreat, and the patrol was running from Sunningrocks, back to their camp. 

Upon arrival, old Timberfur applauded them. Almost as if the death was a good thing. She could've stopped it, though - it didn't feel right to have to see another cat... flat out die.

"Good work, Rippleclaw," the brown tom said, facing the silver tabby warrior. It was clear his age was taking a toll on him, so Timberfur assigned him to one last mission.

"Anytime, Timberfur," he purred back.

Petaldust couldn't quite comprehend. Why were they being so casual about how Rippleclaw took part in taking down a cat defending his territory. They did barge in with no warning, after all... something was wrong.

The other cats weren't talking about it. Frogleap and Sunfish were discussing about the rising water levels. Voleclaw was lying in the sun. The others seemed to mind their own business.

What made her worried about how a cat died? Almost as if she felt guilty for not doing anything to stop it? Maybe that was it.

The guilt that she couldn't save him? That she let him die? Or that she had to witness a kill in the first place?

Yet, it was treated as if it was right.

Did the others not care? Or did the leader of ThunderClan not care? Her words of Thistleclaw were bitter, filled with bile. Such was common knowledge, if one went to a gathering.

Bluestar must've not cared if they had killed him. Maybe she was happy he was dead.

No wonder why they didn't get in trouble! Bluestar would be pleased to see one of her greatest enemies dead!

But right then, at that moment, he didn't do anything wrong! He was defending his own land, and RiverClan killed him! She could have done something!

It was all her fault. It had to be.

Chapter Text

The sunlight slowly cast its light through what little trees were near the border. Squirrelwhisker waited there for him, along with her kit.

Wasn't long before a gray shape emerged from the distance. As they neared it was clear it was her mate, Eaglestorm, a WindClan tom.

"Sorry, my leader wanted me to go on a patrol," he apologized.

"It's fine. So, how are we going to decide this...?" She recently had their son, Windkit, but didn't know whether she would keep him or hand him over to his father.

"Well, you birthed him, it would only be fair if you decided, after all."

"... you're still his father, though. You should take part, too."

The next few minutes was spent squabbling on who would choose, before both came to the conclusion that they would have to pitch in on this decision together. Windkit squealed loudly.

"... I guess he's yours. How would I explain to the others where I got him?" Eaglestorm sighed.

"No idea. Just say that you found him at the border, as a random loner kit?" Squirrelwhisker suggested.

"I don't think they would be oblivious enough to not notice that he looks like me," the gray tom fretted, "I mean, he has the same fur color as me!"

"Which could get lighter as he gets older, you know," the brown tabby she-cat sighed. "No problem. I'll take him back with me."

Windkit continued squealing, and his mother slowly padded away into the distance. Good StarClan, she messed up big time. She should've given Windkit to Eaglestorm... at the same time, she had heard stories about another cat whose kits looked like a tom from RiverClan, and was banished as a result.

She didn't want that to happen to her son. StarClan, no.

Maybe taking him away was for the better. She wasn't quite sure. Even as she reached camp, and headed straight for the nursery, she still didn't know how to feel about what went down. Did Eaglestorm hate her...?

At least Windkit was asleep. That was a comforting thought, at least. Since the sun was rising higher, perhaps it would be best if she had a nap.

Between her new son, what went down, and her mate, she wasn't sure how to feel about things in general anymore.

Chapter Text

"I'm leaving, momma," Brownpaw told his mother, Newtspeck. "Brokenstar is sooo mean! Stumpytail doesn't pay attention to me, either, and he's my mentor!"

The black-and-ginger she-cat sighed. "Well, what Brokenstar says around here is law. We can't do much about it, dear."

The small brown tom wouldn't take that. "Forget Brokenstar! I'm out of here!" He stormed off out of the marshy area, out of the camp, out of what he had once called home.

"Good StarClan, I just hope he knows where he's going with this," Newtspeck fretted. Despite being an apprentice, he was barely older than six moons - Brokenstar made him an early apprentice.

That was what Brownpaw hated most. He was so small compared to all the other apprentices from the other Clans (like his brothers, Wetpaw and Littlepaw,) and he felt secondhand embarrassment whenever he was taken - okay, well, he only went to Gatherings twice, but for Brownpaw, was enough to make proper judgment.

---
A quarter-moon passed. Brownpaw was barely managing living on his own. At least he knew how to catch his own prey - thank Stumpytail for that - but otherwise, he was a mess, for a six moon old apprentice. He didn't even have a place to live!

One day, he was sleeping in one of those Twoleg mini-dens with food that looked like it came straight out of the dirtplace. Brownpaw then heard someone call his name.

"Hey, you!" A dark ginger shape was calling to him. "What are you doing here?"

Confused, Brownpaw, only to see his old Clanmate, Russetfur. Brokenstar highly respected her. "Please don't tell!" he pleaded.

For a moment, Russetfur laughed. "Why would I? Look, even though I work for him, I'm not going that low. As long as you know what you're doing, you should be fine."

"Even if I'm only six moons old?" he asked, starry-eyed. One of ShadowClan's most important warriors - complimenting him on his survival skills!! Wow!!

"Well, maybe not so much, but I'll leave you alone. Brokenstar and I are up to some..." She paused for a moment, "... important business! Yes, important business. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'll be going back to him. He's going to be so mad when I get back late, I swear...."

The dark ginger she-cat turned around, and darted toward the distance, close to the Thunderpath. Brownpaw yelled for her to stay safe. He would like to think she called back to him, too.

To him, she was way more admirable than Stumpytail, or Brokenstar. She was so cool... he wished he could be just like her!!

Maybe, one day, he could follow in her footsteps! As long as he was in control of his actions, maybe that would be the case.

As much as he was naive, Brownpaw did had some level of proper judgment going on. Impressive for an apprentice six moons of age.

Chapter Text

She remembered when she agreed to take in Graystripe's kits, to raise them as her own, since their mother died. She agreed to it, because she knew it was the right thing to do. Greenflower was sick, so she took over for her - no worries - and she cared for them like her own children.

She remembered when they became apprentices - Stormpaw and Featherpaw - being taught by the mighty Stonefur and Mistyfoot themselves! Mosspelt couldn't help but admire that. Her own children - that's what they were - brought up by RiverClan's greatest!

Yet, over time, they didn't give much respect to what she had done - her children, yes, but the rest of the Clan? She was regarded as a typical RiverClan cat, not too plump but not lean either, with no interesting personality traits. Even Shadepelt, one lover of hers, found this upsetting. 

She remembered when her children went off, called by StarClan to do a great deed. They were gone for so long, and yet, the land slowly deteriorated around them. Before long, that group of cats came back.

Except one. Her daughter. Feathertail.

She wept for her loss, more than she could imagine. Then she lost another; Shadepelt decided to stay in the forest, and Mosspelt watched as her lover left her with such agony, being torn apart as such. Then, she lost one more; her son, Stormfur, although not dead, would be up in the mountains... well, at least he was with someone he loved.

Even as she got another mate, even as she had more kits, she could not forget what happened to her. What StarClan did to her. Since she wasn't their birth mother, for whatever reason her work was put for naught.

Time passed. Clan wars were fought, the dead came back to fight the living, and so on. Eventually, Mosspelt felt her age coming to her, and retired. Not like she was of any use to anyone...

One day, after that major storm, after that one gathering, Mosspelt had time to reflect. She was the only elder left, after all. She wondered, where did life go wrong for her?

Was it when she refused to join Shadepelt with the other elders (not that Shadepelt was particularly old, but rather ill,) in the old forest? Or was it when she could do nothing to stop her daughter's death? Or maybe even refusing to try out living in the mountains with her son?

Sure, she did have other children - and she loved them, and her new mate, just as much as the ones she had before - but she couldn't help but think at what she lost.

What she was forgotten for? Her raising Graystripe's children. She received praise for that. But afterwards, she was pushed aside, not thought of as anything else, nothing.

She hated that, but she wished she could tell someone, anyone. But would she be too selfish, too needy?

She remembered what happened to her, and surely, it was unexpected.

Chapter Text

"We have a new apprentice among us."

Daisytoe couldn't comprehend what Doestar was talking about. They already had three new warriors! The kits were all too young to be made apprentices! What was she thinking?!

Then, it came: "Goosekit, come forward!"

Okay, Doestar was doing something unacceptable. Goosekit was only four moons old! Kits had to be six moons in order to be apprenticed. What made her darling son so special? She did love him dearly, yes, but Doestar took this to a whole new level! She couldn't take this. She could only look away in such disdain toward her leader, toward what little regard she had for the warrior code.

Once it was over, Daisytoe couldn't properly absorb what just happened. Her son ended up as Cloudberry's apprentice, and her response was that "it was the right thing to do"? What mockery was this?! Did they have any idea what this could do to her son? Unacceptable.

Nevertheless, she could not fight against it. Leader's word was law, after all. Didn't mean it couldn't be questioned, though. From what she could hear, other cats seemed to agree, too. At least she wasn't alone.

Maybe Rooktail could understand! Ah, yes, her mate... who was conveniently not here right now! Well, maybe he would be back from a patrol soon. Then, she could vent out her feelings.

Some time passed that day, and Daisytoe watched as cats came into camp, and left to do their duties. Finally, Rooktail returned from a small border patrol alongside a few other cats. At once she came toward him.

"Listen," Daisytoe told him, "we need to talk. Meet me outside of camp, if that's okay."

The dark-colored tom nodded, and after he was praised for his work, followed her.

"Okay, how do I put this..." Daisytoe struggled to find a way to put this to proper words. "... okay, Doestar has made our son an apprentice."

Normally, Rooktail wasn't very involved in the lives of his kits, but this was something else. "Isn't he too young? What was she thinking?"

"That's what I've been saying!" she blurted out. "Yet, I can't do anything about it."

"She is leader," he reminded, "yet she can make some awful decisions."

"Can't we just fight against it? This is obscene!"

"I'm not sure if she'd listen to reason, I'm afraid...."

Daisytoe sighed. Maybe he was right. Maybe they really couldn't do anything. Why bother, if Doestar allowed this choice in the first place? Her head drooped, and overall her body stiffened. She couldn't bear to see her son anymore, not like this. Whatever. The two soon went back to camp, with no hope of arguing against their leader.

Even as the moons went by, she watched her son transform into a wreck of a cat... all because of what those two did. Her greatest regret, however, was not speaking up when she had the chance. What chance did she have, though, fighting against those who easily controlled her?

Nothing. So, she did nothing, because that was all she could do.

Chapter Text

She watched as the tom, in a flash, sliced her brother's throat. She watched as he fell, frozen by fear. She could do nothing.

In spite of this, Thrushwing was filled with righteous fury, fury from the cats who were attacking her Clan. Yet, WindClan was not strong enough to defend themselves from ShadowClan. Oh, how she hated that.

"What's wrong?" asked one queen, as she watched the grey-brown tabby storm off. 

"You should know!" Thrushwing snapped. Bitterness filled her. If only she was strong enough to fight WindClan off!

---
Moons passed. Even after WindClan was brought back by that kid, Fireheart, Thrushwing still felt the memories come back; the sudden death of her brother, how that one ShadowClan she-cat injured her leg, everything. She was distracted by her past, reliving her memories daily. Yet, she could only silently scream, as she hid her pain among her Clanmates. Thrushwing tried working on patrols and the like, but even then the calls of the ShadowClan cats still came back, and suddenly she was focused on who would attack next.

Some cats mocked her for her behavior, telling her that she was making a big deal out of things, that she should move on and accept what happened.

She hated every minute of this! She wanted to forget! Yet, the memories kept flooding back whenever they got into a fight, when she had to so much as kill something! Even at Gatherings, the sight of ShadowClan cats was unnerving - especially at Blackstar, the tom who killed her brother. Her dear brother... and yet, she couldn't do anything to save him, which slowly bit at her.

---
Eventually, Thrushwing adopted two kits who were wandering onto WindClan territory one day - Willowkit and Dewkit. This was when they were now at the lake, and Thrushwing was growing old. Yet, she could not help but feel pity for these children, who had no parents to speak of, and were abandoned when they were little. They reminded her of... no, she mustn't think of that again.

Late at night, the gray-brown she-cat would be asleep, only to wake up in a sweat because one of her dreams went sour. One of her daughters, though, would be there to talk to her, to ask what happened. Her body relaxed, and the words came out smoother than expected. She didn't realize it, but it was comforting to talk out her feelings (as long as she didn't bring it out onto her children, which she actively tried not to do.)

Apprenticeship came, and Willowpaw was given to Tornear, while Dewspots was Ashfoot, two warriors Thrushwing was already well-aware of - she grew up hearing about their exploits as dependable WindClan warriors. At least they delivered, and soon her daughters were warriors, Willowclaw and Dewspots. She could not be prouder. 

There was one night, however, where she was most wary: their first vigil.

The two stood proud outside of camp, looking out for any intruders, but Thrushwing watched them closely.

"Mama, we're fine!" Willowclaw assured.

"I don't want you to get hurt," the gray-brown she-cat replied. "Once, when I was your age, I...."

The memories hit again, and the day of the ShadowClan invasion, the death of her brother... her brother... Thrushwing was on the ground, breaking down at the thought of what happened.

"Mama?" Dewspots turned around to see her mother in a sobbing mess. 

Willowclaw's throat tightening as she searched for the proper words for this. "They're not here right now, don't worry. Can I do anything for you?"

"No, no, it's my fault...." Thrushwing was lost in her memories, her eyes staring into the distance.

"Maybe we should bring you back into camp?" Dewspots suggested. Willowclaw nodded in agreement.

"... That'd be great, thank you." the gray-brown she-cat croaked. Sure, her kids were meant to be on vigil, but bringing their mother into her nest wouldn't be much of a problem, would it?

As they headed back in, Thrushwing was repeatedly hit by the memories of her trauma, all of the things that happened to her; being driven out of her home, losing her brother, losing her home again, having to deal with chaotic leadership, with nobody to express her feelings too... it felt too much.

"You two!" she blurted out. "I want you to know that I love you, and I don't want to lose you two like I lost him!"

The two gray cats stopped for a moment. "Mama, trust me, I won't die like he did!" Dewspots insisted.

"We did just become warriors, remember...." Willowclaw reminded.

"I know, I know, I just... it still hurts. I hate remembering this." Thrushwing was soon brought to her nest, and gently laid down by her daughters.

"Please, get some sleep, mama. You need it." Dewspots head drooped. "I hate seeing you sad like this. It makes me sad!"

"Don't worry about me," Thrushwing sighed. "I want you two to be safe, okay?"

Willowclaw said nothing, while Dewspots dipped her head in respect. Then, the two exited the warriors' den, back to their post outside.

The memories would, in the end, never leave her. Didn't mean she couldn't how to live with them, though.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Snowtuft!" Birchfur called. "I got a dare for you!"

"Yeah!" Brownnose chimed in. "Do what he says! He's the boss, after all." The brown tabby twitched his tail.

"Dude, did you forget me?" A ginger cat slid through the clearing. "Brownnose, I think you need to remember that no cat but I, Docktail, is going to boss you around."

The brown cat looked down at the smaller ginger tom. "Y-Yeah, right, sorry."

The three cats surrounded Snowtuft, the white tom who died in a freak accident. Naturally, what they were going to do was also another ridiculous stunt.

"Okay, here's the deets," Docktail went over. "You go into the Dark Forest. You come back out of there, filled with glory and all that. No big deal."

"I'm not sure about this." Snowtuft sighed, looking down. He basically shrunk in comparison to the others. No way could he jump off of gorges like Docktail, swim through rapids like Birchfur, or fall down from trees recklessly like Brownnose. Nope, not enough confidence for that.

"Do it, do it, do it, do it...." The chanting of his friends was too much to resist. The white tom noticed the misty border, dividing dark from light.

First, it was one paw. Then two. Slowly but surely, Snowtuft was moving forward, not looking back at his friends, still egging him on. He was sure of it. He was pretty sure he could hear Docktail's yells, Brownnose's urging, Birchfur's egging.

After a while, Snowtuft was in the Dark Forest. So many mushrooms grew around the trees, glowing eerily. Dim light came from the clouded shape above, and the trees were gnarled, rotten, and twisted. This had to be it... so dark....

Then, the white tom turned around - he already did the dare, didn't he? Just go back the way he went - that'd had no consequence, would it?

Except he couldn't get out. He kept on running, running, running, yet he found no escape. Every path he took seemed to loop itself. Was this his punishment, to live with the other souls of the damned?

Snowtuft felt like he would break down. He shouldn't have listened, he shouldn't have listened....

Then, he heard a husky voice: "Hey, kid, you lost?"

Snowtuft turned around to see a mottled grey-and-white tom with particularly spiky fur. He didn't look like any StarClan cat he knew....

"Well, sad news is, you're stuck here," he sighed. "Better make the most of your time here. Trust me, it's not as bad as you think." The spiky tom then walked off.

Snowtuft didn't understand; wasn't this place awful, where only bad warriors went? Was he bad, too, for taking up Docktail's challenge? 

Maybe the spiky tom was right. He would just try to see the positives of staying here. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad, yeah! He could make the most of this!

Docktail, however, would never know the fate of his friend, and he never would.

Chapter Text

Mama always told her son dearest to stick in groups. Groups would make up for the things he lacked. They would also make him feel better about himself.

Well, he'd be keeping to her word; at only two moons, thanks to a nasty bout of greencough, he was left an orphan cat. Terrified, the small dark tabby hid in the bushes, defenseless from the outside world. Only a lone queen and her single son rescued him. He came to know them as Meadowsweet and Madric. The name he told them was the one his mother gave him: Pasha.

Meadowsweet would sleep while Madric and Pasha would have the time of their lives. They would roll around in the dirt, run off to bother the dogs, and in general be nuisances. To Meadowsweet, however, they were her darling son and his unusually close friend. All seemed well, despite the chaotic nature of those two.

Unfortunately, not all good things were meant to last. One day, in the middle of newleaf, several twolegs came in one of their monsters, and laid out silver dens. Being the ignorant cats they were, Pasha and Madric ventured into one of them, and suddenly the entrance clanged shut. Too late. After they gobbled up what was there of the twoleg food, only then did they realize their mistake. Madric rammed into the cover with his head, only to be knocked back, right into Pasha. The two tabbies fell to the ground, dizzy. 

The sky turned its marigold-yellow as the sun set, and by then Pasha and Madric were asleep. The twolegs came back, and took their silver den by one edge, putting it inside the monster. After some grumbling, the monster roared away. Then, it went dark.

The next thing they knew, they were seperated, divided by lines and barriers, ones that seemed unbreakable. In their own dens, they could see other cats lined up in rows beside them, and below them. Oh, the horror! Pasha watched as one cat, a small pale tortoiseshell, was moved into another den, and then carried off outside the entrance. Would he be next? 

---
It felt like forever, but he would fall victim, too. One day, Pasha noticed a tall, lanky twoleg open his den. He hissed, and flattened his ears. The twoleg must've mumbled something, something he didn't understand, because they were talking to him! Not like he'd care, though.

He was more content talking with Madric, who was conveniently right next to him. The two would go all day commenting on the lives of the cats around them, since they had nothing else to do. At first, anyway. Over time, it became a hobby, and Pasha felt something grow inside of him. He really liked talking to Madric, the brown tabby with the cold eyes, yet full of warmth. Almost like-

The twoleg reached for Pasha with one of their paws, and, with their toes - they seemed like toes, anyway - they grabbed him. The dark tabby tried clawing away as Madric cried for help. It was no use. Pasha was shoved into one of those dens that he saw on his first day there, and, like that pale tortoiseshell, he left the entrance.

Spite filled the young tom. Why him? What was so great about him? He was nothing like Madric, who was so much better than him. He was the definition of perfection! Sure, he got angry a lot (no wonder why he was called Madric,) and he had a hard time expressing his feelings, but he was a good cat. Nothing like Pasha. What could twolegs see in him? He was betraying his mother's word, for sure. She told him to stick in groups, not be by himself! It was all his fault, for sure... what a useless cat HE was....

---
The next time he woke up, Pasha was in a completely different location. The walls were lined with smaller, younger... images? - yes, images would work - of the twolegs beside him. Pasha himself was in a cozy red nest, lined with white fluff. At least he wasn't in the nests... but Madric....

Beside him was a smaller twoleg with dark brown eyes, who was making high-pitched squeaking noises in some pitiful attempt to communicate.

Not like he cared. He was nothing, and so was this twoleg. Whatever, they were a waste of his time....

... Wait! Waste of time! Maybe that's what he could do! Bother the twolegs, and, if he lucked out, other cats! Yes!

Pasha was fortunate to live near a gorge filled with cats. They called themselves 'SkyClan' - whatever lame name that was, since half of the cats were his neighbors - and boasted being 'warriors'. Nothing special to him. Madric was better than them in every way, with his rippling muscles and... Pasha felt sweaty thinking about him. Oh goodness, did he have it BAD. No problem. 

For now on, the only things that mattered were his ability to be annoying, and Madric. Not like he'd see him ever again, though. No problem! He would just do what he did best; barge into other cats' business, and be annoying as possible. Some other cats joined in, too - not like he minded, since they helped him out, did better than he ever could. Two wrongs wouldn't make a right, and he was living proof of this! He would just take pleasure in being annoying and awful.

To Pasha, that was all he was good at. Why bother trying, if he would just lose everything in the end? Not caring - or at least pretending not to - was his way to cope with his pain. Without emotional attachments to things, he wouldn't have to worry about losing things again! 

He wouldn't lose anyone or anything again. Not his mother, not Meadowsweet, not his home... yes, not even Madric.

There seemed to be no problem with this plan. Everything would work out fine. In Pasha's eyes, he didn't matter to others, because he didn't hurt anyone - he wasn't that interested in beating up other cats - but rather, he wasted their time. Which is what he wanted. 

Being annoying was all that Pasha was good at, and he was making an attempt to relish in this, despite his past suffering. Not like it mattered, though. Nothing mattered anymore - not after Madric.

The brown tabby tom, unable to move on from loss, coped by lashing out against the world, in a desperate attempt to feel like he was in a group again.

He got his wish, but at what cost?

Chapter Text

Duskfur wasn't quite sure when the night started scaring her. Maybe it was when the Dark Forest invaded, threatening her kits. Maybe it was when that brown tabby-and-white tom made his way toward the nursery, targeting Curlkit and Podkit. Maybe it was when Robinwing took the fatal blow meant for her, for her children. 

Either way, the night did not provide a sense of security, but rather one of bad vibes.

Whenever she was sent on a night patrol, she stayed close to the others. Be it walking next to Reedwhisker, or sticking around with Minnowtail, the presence of company gave Duskfur a feeling of security, that she was safe from those monster-like cats that were out for her.

At night, at least her kits were beside her, giving her a feeling of closeness. Even as they grew older, even as they became full-fledged warriors, at least Duskfur had the knowledge that they were nearby, ready to defend her in a heartbeat.

To alleviate her fear, she would sleep during the night, and do her work in the daytime. Since not many cats were around during that time, Duskfur reasoned that she could fill in for them. She would just watch out for anything suspicious, do her fair share of hunting, and guard camp.

Yet, she felt a little... alienated. 

The other cats didn't hate her for who she was - no, in fact, they respected her for her ability to work in the daytime, a time where most cats slept - but she was often excluded from their activities. Nope, she wouldn't be able to see Havenpaw become a warrior - she would be asleep then. Nope, she couldn't join on the apprentice ceremony, either. Too late for the day cat.

Admittedly, she hated herself for not being like the others... oh well.

The memories of the night still haunted her. Duskfur dreamt of bitter, spiteful cats who were desperate to cause ruin in the lives of other cats. Including her, probably. She deserved it, though, because she was scared of the dark. Cats were always out at night, like they were supposed to, but Duskfur was terrified of it.

The brown tabby tried going back to her old life. Tried. She stopped taking the morning shifts, stopped sleeping at night. Things felt out of whack, however. The thoughts, the fear, the anxious, queasy feelings - all came to tackle her mind while she was in the middle of her duties.

StarClan, why couldn't she just act like a normal Clan cat? Why was she plagued with these constant thoughts? Was it a curse of Robinwing?

Duskfur quickly gave up her attempts, and went back to her 'sleep at night, work at day' scheduling. At least that didn't give her intrusive thoughts, unlike the way she was used to before.

Perhaps, she could learn to live with the feelings of disturbance and discomfort. For now, though, this seemed to work for her.

While she would miss out on some important things, yes, her health was her major priority (along with her kits, of course.) She did not regret it.

In fact, Duskfur felt a bit happier.

Chapter Text

His name was Weaselkit! Not Happykit! Why did other kits call him that? That wasn't his name.

Well, he liked being with Mama. He liked how warm her belly was. Before the mean cat got him, anyway. Weaselkit didn't get why he got hurt.

But he never saw himself as happier than everyone else. Why did everyone call him that?

Weaselkit was scared. Did people forget his name? Maybe other kits felt the same, too.

The tiny ginger kit, who looked more like a bean, walked around a little in the starry heavens, then folded his legs beneath him.

Then, he saw two kits in the distance. Hey! Maybe they knew!

One of them came over, only to knock Weaselkit to the ground.

"What was that for?" Weaselkit frowned.

"I want to play!" the she-kit squeaked. "It's so boring here...."

"What's your name?" the ginger tabby kit asked.

"Oh, I'm Wishkit," she answered. "Over there is my sister, Hopekit!"

"...You have weird names, too?" Maybe he wasn't alone!

"Sometimes, the other kits make fun of us," Wishkit explained. "Our mama didn't give us these names; we got named by other cats!"

Weaselkit also felt compelled to tell them how he felt. "I'm Weaselkit, but everyone keeps on calling me Happykit."

Wishkit tilted her head. "Why?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "The other cats are weird."

"I know," the small kit snorted, "but who cares about them! Let's go!"

Wishkit was right; the other cats were just plain mean. Forger them! The three kits frolicked off into the distance, having no cares in the world. 

Weaselkit's case was more complex than he thought, but he was a very young kit when he died. It would not matter much to him at all, frankly.

Chapter Text

"You still miss Happykit?" Rippletail peeped into the nursery where Pinenose lay.

The black queen batted an eye, but otherwise did not respond to the white tom. Annoyed, he left her alone. To him, she was being a jerk - yet to her, it was the other way around.

Every time, it seemed to go like this: Some cat enters the nursery to check on Pinenose and her children, makes an insensitive comment about her son, and she would end up snapping at them, or ignore them completely. Every time, Pinenose grew tired. Every time, she had to remember the death of her son.

No surprise why she couldn't get close with her second litter. She had them with Spikefur, and while she did love the four of them - Lionkit, Birchkit, Slatekit, and Puddlekit - she couldn't bear reeling from losing one of them, too. Hence why she pretended not to care about them.

The concern was subtle; she would make sure Slatekit didn't bother Grassheart, or carry Lionkit by her scruff when she was sniffing catnip. Pinenose didn't make it overt, but she did care. She just couldn't get too attached.

One day, her mate slid into the nursery, trying to act cool, like usual. "What's up? It's your cat, Spikefur!"

Pinenose sighed. Sometimes, some of the things he said gave her secondhand embarrassment. "Misery. More misery." 

"Did something happen?" the brown tom asked. "Oh, it's about Weaselkit, isn't it?"

"At least you called him by his actual name!" she snorted. "They keep calling him 'Happykit'. Probably to mock him. I don't know with these cats, honestly."

The brown tom had no words. The patch of fur on his head drooped a little.

"I don't want to lose my kits," she went on, "but I don't want to go through that again."

Spikefur sighed. "I understand, you know. I mean, I came here with no parents to speak of, remember?"

"Right," Pinenose remembered how Spikefur and Grassheart entered ShadowClan; a pair of hungry kittypet kits who were looking for a place to stay. ShadowClan took them in to show that they could best ThunderClan in the whole 'kittypet adoption' business, nevermind that most of ShadowClan was descended from non-Clan cats themselves.

"I know how it's like to keep losing family like that. Look, at least you care about them, right?"

"Yeah. I just don't want to feel that same pain. I fake my indifference." Letting it out felt... nice?

"Uh, how am I gonna say this... oh! Well, we all deal with pain differently, right? For me, I like staying with my sister. For you, you like pretending you don't care, right?"

"Mmhmm." 

"We should keep that up. Loss is kinda hard to deal with. Like I said, I get you."

"...Thank you, Spikefur." 

"Anytime! Be sure to watch me jump off a tree, kits!" The brown tom winked, then left the nursery. Lionkit let out a squeal of protest, wanting to go with him. Pinenose let her, and watched the pale ginger she-kit scamper out, in pursuit of her father.

Out of all the cats she could have chosen as a second mate, Spikefur was arguably better than she expected.

Chapter Text

Out of all the cats he thought of adopting, Blossomfall would be one of the last ones to cross his mind. Maybe it was because Graystripe didn't pay much attention to her?

Then again, being a flat-out pariah was something he thought he'd never do, either.

It started a little while after she was in that tunnels incident. Thornclaw was hanging around the edge of camp, minding his own business, when the spotted tortoiseshell she-cat came up to him.

"Hey, Thornclaw?" she asked.

"Yeah?" the golden brown tabby replied, stretching his legs.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Well...." The rest was history: she was training in this Dark Forest place with a bunch of shady figures, but was told not to give it away easily to her Clanmates. Doing so would be treasonous. Thornclaw, however, was an older cat ignored by half the Clan; he could care less.

"...Okay. Just stay safe, that's all I ask." He turned his head the other direction, and shut his eyes.

---
A moon or so later, Blossomfall called for his help. When Thornclaw came over, he saw Blossomfall laying in the brambles with a sprained paw.

"What happened?" The senior warrior was concerned.

"I hurt myself the other night," she explained. "Beetlewhisker knocked me over badly, and I haven't been able to walk well since then."

"Oh, dear," The golden brown tabby would be sweating nervously if he could. "Try not to wiggle; you could make it worse. I'll go get some help. Just wait a moment, okay?"

"Shhh. Someone else might hear us!" she warned him.

As he ran off, he noticed Lionblaze was watching them. What was his deal? Hopefully he didn't hear anything....

---
"See, look at him! Thornclaw trained in there along with the others!"

Out of all of the things he expected to come out of the Dark Forest thing, he did not expect what felt like an all-out war. Nor did he expect to be labelled as a traitor by one of the chosen cats, either.

Would he be able to question it? Well, he WAS chosen, so his authority was very respected; as much as he wanted to argue against Lionblaze, maybe it wasn't worth it.

After the Clan discussion was over, after that swarm of cats asking, questioning, begging to know WHY such a senior warrior like Thornclaw would do such things, Blossomfall came up to him again.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Yet, the answer was obvious.

He wanted to pretend he WAS there, to protect the cats who actually DID go in. Lionblaze forgot Blossomfall. So, rather than saying anything, Thornclaw took her blame.

"You don't deserve the shunning," he admitted. "I mean, your own parents don't care for you, so what am I to do?"

For a second, she was speechless. Then, she answered rather awkwardly, "Well, that was thoughtful... I guess...." 

"You know, over the short few moons I kept this secret, I started seeing you as my own daughter," Best to tell her the truth. "I mean, Millie doesn't care. Graystripe doesn't care. Who else is going to look after you?"

He was met with silence. Not cold silence, but one of understanding.

"I don't want you to suffer because they don't give you attention. You don't deserve that. You have Ivypool, right? But who else?"

"..."

"Forget Graystripe! You have me, okay? If you need to vent, talk, whatever, I'm here. Don't worry about it."

A few minutes passed before she gave a small nod of understanding, and turned around. He could accept that.

Although he had no child of his own, Blossomfall was the closest he could have. Thornclaw had no regrets.

If her own parents didn't give her the attention she needed, he would.

Chapter Text

The white she-kit watched them praise her sister, Sedgekit and Swallowkit. They would often say, "You have a promising future, Sedgekit!" or, "Swallowkit is bound to be a great warrior!"

Yet, what they didn't know would make their hopes crushed, their dreams broken, corrupted: The three of them were the result of a half-Clan union, between their parent, Gorsetail, and a RiverClan tom, Beechfur. Their parent told them of how they got together, had them, and left each other on a mutual breakup. Didn't mean they hated each other though - no, in fact, they were on good terms - but it did mean Beechfur would not visit his kits. The guilt haunted Thistlekit from a young age. How could she be here if the others would look down on her?

After the tunnels incident, it grew even further. How she fell asleep in the tunnels, as it was flooding... and she was only a moon or two old! Such self-hatred filled itself in the heart of the kit. She could've killed so many cats!

What made her Clanmates still like her? While she couldn't word it at this age, she didn't like herself, not one bit.

---
Then, she was an apprentice, Thistlepaw. Her mentor was Dewspots, a younger warrior who was the daughter of a survivor of the ShadowClan invasion, Thrushwing. While she was a patient mentor, she would end up having to pause their sessions to help her mother, still traumatized by what happened on the day of the invasion.

Thistlepaw couldn't imagine how awful it must've been; oh dear StarClan, what if she said something insensitive? She could almost see the scenario play out in her head; Dewspots snapping, her mother enraged, the whole Clan ashamed... she hated it, hated it, hated it!

Half-Clan cats would always mess up, in Thistlepaw's mind, and since she was one, she would always mess up. The secret proved to be unbearable; nevertheless, she still kept her mouth sealed. Even as Gorsetail told her not to worry, even as Sedgepaw and Swallowpaw continued with their progress, she was left behind, worrying about being... not wanted. Not relevant, not needed. She didn't understand the others, because she was born too late. She wasn't supposed to exist, because her father was from another Clan. Despite her siblings showing indifference to the fact, Thistlepaw could not get the thoughts out of her head.

Eventually, it proved too much. One day, a few days shy of her final assessment, Thistlepaw ran away. She ran, ran, ran far away from the moor, until she could no longer see it in the distance. There, in the outskirts of the tall trees, she fended for herself, with what skills Dewspots brought onto her. 

---
Thistlepaw didn't know how long it had been. Well, she had grown bigger, and she watched the seasons pass. New cats came in, but otherwise things stayed the same. One day, she heard rumors from two kittypets, Polly and Mikey.

"Didn't you hear?" said Polly. "There's going to be a big cat fight in a few days!"

"No way!" Mikey responded. "If only we could watch it... I mean, our Twolegs would get worried, and there's dead cats in there-"

Dead cats. They couldn't be talking about... no. It sounded impossible. StarClan? Coming to their plane of being? Seemed unlikely. Suspicious, Thistlepaw headed back to WindClan, the way she came from moons ago.

---
By the time she got back, WindClan was in a state of chaos. Cats nipped at each others ears, clawed at each other's bellies. A few bodies lay on the cold flooring, but otherwise it seemed like the entire Clan was fighting for their lives. What did she miss... ?

Oh no. No, no, no, no... from a distance, one of the bodies of the dead seemed to be... Thistlepaw was drawn closer to the lifeless body. She had to know, even if it hurt. Even if she would deny it.

Yes, it was Swallowtail's body, laying on the ground, with claw marks around her throat. StarClan, no... no... no!!

"Swallowpaw? Swallowpaw!" Thistlepaw shook her sister's body.

"..." It took a moment for the gray she-cat to register Thistlepaw as her sister. "You... came back?" 

"I'm so sorry...." The white she-cat's words came out in sobs. "I knew I wasn't supposed to exist! Don't you see?! If I didn't run away... if I didn't... if I... if I just stayed in camp...."

Swallowtail stared for a moment. Time was running out, at least on her end. 

"I accept your apology," she croaked. "Sedgewhisker wouldn't hate you... I, Swallowtail, don't hate you... and I don't think Gorsetail would, either. Or even Dad."

Guilt filled her. Thistlepaw looked down. Surprisingly, it seemed as if the fighting was nowhere near their area. Yet, she still felt like a useless asset, even if she did just come back....

"Thistlepaw, listen," Swallowtail drew her last breath, "fight for me. For all of us. Please. I beg you." 

Then, she lay still. Thistlepaw grit her teeth. She was AWFUL! AWFUL! IT WAS ALL HER FAULT! IF SHE DIDN'T RUN AWAY, SHE WOULDN'T HAVE DIED! WHAT WOULD THEY ALL THINK OF YOU?

No matter. As much as her thoughts intruded her every action, she had to keep going. Suddenly a dark ginger tabby she-cat slid in, and raised her back.

"That was your sister, wasn't it?" she snarled.

"Fuck off," Thistlepaw spat. Swallowtail only died moments ago, yet she still had to fight.

"Make me!" The dark ginger tabby leaped onto the white she-cat, and so the two foght. Claws on flesh, the living versus the dead. Their yowls echoed in the night.

Yet, in the end, Thistlepaw's luck ran out. The dark tabby knocked her down, got her belly, and slashed at it. She tried getting up, only to collapse as blood quickly ebbed from the wound.

"No! Not you, too!" Sedgewhisker jumped in out of nowhere, only to tackle the dark ginger she-cat to the ground. As they fought, it seemed as if everything started to fade.

The dark ginger tabby soon was defeated, and, embarrassed, ran off. Sedgewhisker turned to Thistlepaw.

"You came back!" she said, relieved. "We were looking for you, everywhere! We gave up on you, but then you just come back!"

Then, the brown tabby she-cat noticed her sister's gaping wound.

"No!" she yowled in pain.

"It's okay," Thistlepaw assured her. "I wasn't supposed to exist, so it was only a matter of time."

"No, it's not okay! You deserve to exist!" Upset was an understatement; if she could bawl, then Sedgewhisker would.

"We're half-Clan kits! WindClan hates half-Clan kits! Don't you know how awful it feels to keep it all in?"

Time was ticking, and Sedgewhisker stayed silent.

"I ran away because of those feelings! I hate myself for being me!"

Slowly, Sedgewhisker scooted closer to her sister. Then, she started licking her fur, in an attempt to comfort her.

"I know it's not going to help much, but... I think you're fine, just the way you are. I know you're a good cat, Thistlepaw! I just know that!"

She felt like it was lies, yet, she believed in her sister's words. She needed that comfort, that solace, however questionably worded it was.

"I want you to do one thing for me," Thistlepaw said, "before I die."

"Yes?"

"Tell Onestar to give me a warrior name. Uh, Thistleheart. Yeah, that works. Could you tell him that?"

"I'll make sure to." 

"Thank you...." Thistlepaw shut her eyes, and then she too lay still.

---
Six moons later, Blackstar named off most of the cats who died in the Great Battle.

One of those names was Thistleheart, a WindClan warrior.

Onestar did take her final wish into consideration, after all. Now, she knew what made them think she was so special; she would fight, 'til the very end.

As much as she regretted her life choices, she did not regret fighting for her family. Not one bit.

Chapter Text

Mistlekit woke up in the middle of nowhere. It was bright out. Around her were lots of cats with messy fur.

"Brokenstar, you sure this was the one?" asked a shaggy brown tom, with lots of scars.

"I think so? Who cares. Any kit would've worked." replied a dark brown tabby, with a really flat face.

Being a young kit, however, Mistlekit had no idea of their actual intentions.

"Boss, don't you think you're going a little... overboard?" complained one ginger tabby. She didn't look very happy about this.

"Russetfur, are you asking to die?" snorted the brown tom. Then, he said rather nervously, "Clearly, the boss knows what he's doing."

"Well said, Clawface," the dark tabby praised. "Okay, now, watch me."

He raised his claws at her. What did she even do... ?

"When one of those Clan cats corners you, you'd want to aim at the throat," he explained, motioning his paws toward the tabby kit's throat. "That's how you get them down. One of the others finishes up the job."

Brokenstar shifted his position. Mistlekit watched in curiosity. Did they know she was awake?

"Then, when someone else comes, they should aim like this-"

Mistlekit squealed in terror as Brokenstar was about to land a blow at her throat. She rolled over right before it hit.

"I asked for a dead kit! Dammit!" he hissed, stomping his paws on the ground. "Which one of you brought me a live one?"

Silence. Then, a big white tom with black paws motioned toward Clawface.

"It wasn't me, I swear!" he protested. "Didn't you ask Boulder to get her?"

"Well, yeah, but then he went off somewhere, so I asked you. Whatever. Take her back, and get me a dead kit. There's no use practicing on a live cat, anyway."

"Alright," Clawface grabbed the kit by the scruff. Mistlekit didn't protest. He didn't want to hurt her. Not like that big mean tabby.

He didn't know where to bring her. He thought her mom would think she was dead. So, what he did was go into Twolegplace, the one near the forest. Yes, because that's what a smart tom would do.

The brown tom left her in front of a Twoleg den. "Since I don't know how to bring you back without there being a big commotion, I'm leaving you here, okay? Hope you like your Twolegs, kid." Then, he went off.

Mistlekit sat there. The dark tabby she-kit squeaked in distress. Where was she? Why did the brown cat leave her here? Before she knew it, a Twoleg came outside - it had to be one, like the ones in Speckletail's stories - and picked her up, making some noises Mistlekit didn't understand. 

After a while, she fell asleep, and when she woke up, she was met by a brown tabby tom.

"Oh, you're new here, aren't you?" he purred.

"Where am I?" she squeaked.

"You're just in my Twolegs' den, that's all. Name's Henry. This place is pretty big, so feel free to make yourself at home here."

Even though she didn't fully understand his words, at least someone else was there. To Mistlekit, that was all she needed, really. She only had him; she was far away from home, from mama.

She'd just make the most of this, she guessed. Okay! Things would be better, for sure! No more kidnappings! Henry would save her, surely. She'd be okay!

No more meanie Brokenstar. Now, she was safe! Speckletail would be happy to see her safe, right?

Chapter Text

The dark gray she-cat still remembered the thud as his body fell. She still remembered at the gathering, where it was ruled that cats from different Clans could not be mates without issue.

She still remembered shuddering at the thought of having other cats suffer because of her. All her fault, right?

Cloudberry thought she heard the moans, the sighs, the overall agony of the cats who had lovers in other Clans. Guilt washed over her; if only she didn't meet Ryewhisker....

When she did have her kits, she got these looks from many of her Clanmates. Ones of disappointment, frustration, even anger. It wasn't her fault she was interested in a cat not in her own Clan! Some of the queens were sympathetic, but otherwise most of the Clan was spiteful or indifferent to the matter entirely.

At least, her father, Emberstar, did not judge her kits - they proved to be no harm to the Clan. If anything, he saw them as an asset; with the speed of WindClan cats, and the swimming prowess of RiverClan cats, perhaps they would be a benefit to the Clan. 

When they became apprentices, she remembered the blame on her returning. She would often hear, "They shouldn't have been born!" or perhaps, "They were a mistake." If she was really lucky, it would be, "Emberstar should have exiled them."

She grit her teeth, yet held her words back. Cloudberry felt like her inner rage was waiting to come out.

Time passed, and soon, Emberstar fell ill. His deputy, who despised Cloudberry, took advantage of his crumbling state. They would put Cloudberry last on patrols, refrain her from eating at the same time as the others, and in general mistreat her. 

By the time it got worse, Emberstar lost his last life. The deputy, whose name Cloudberry never wished to say again, became leader, and the first thing they did was attempt to exile her.

"She didn't do anything!" protested one warrior.

"Yeah, but she still had kits with a tom from WindClan!" they spat.

Enough was enough. She was together with Ryewhisker before the rule was put in place! Cloudberry's fuse ran out.

The first thing she did was try to attack the leader. Aiming for their throat, she lunged toward them, only to be stopped by another warrior.

"Take her away," they ordered, "unless she wants her kits killed, too."

"No!" Yet, she could do nothing. The bulky warrior carried her by her scruff - like as if she was a newborn kit! - and tossed her outside of RiverClan's camp, on Sunningrocks.

"I'm sorry it has to come to this," they sighed, "but I don't know what would happen if I didn't listen." 

Cloudberry watched as they walked away, then dived into the river and swam across. Whatever. Her kits would be fine - they would fight for her.

RiverClan was dead to Cloudberry. Who cares? She could just go to ThunderClan, anyway. Maybe they would be more accepting.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

The tunnels were a great source of pride for WindClan; they had been around since before the Clan's creation, they were the only Clan to use them, and they used them well. 

For Leafshine, maintaining them was an honor. 

Digging with her forepaws, the tabby she-cat would forge pathways within hours, often working with individuals such as Sandgorse and Hickorynose. Just working in them alone gave her great pride. They had been doing this for generations! She was part of it!

From the moment she was born, she was taught to cherish and appreciate the tunnels - one day, she would be working in there! - and she would often play in the hollow caverns, until some older cat had to fetch her. As an apprentice, she worked with her mentor to have the networks memorized. Every system, every segment, every tunnel - all of those memorized in her head! She would do anything to make WindClan proud.

One day, Leafshine was sent into the tunnels to perform maintenance - among others joining her were Lilywhisker, Hickorynose, and Mistmouse. The four of them would be able to be productive in their work together.

"Say, don't you think something's... wrong about this place?" Lilywhisker asked. 

Now that she mentioned it, Leafshine looked around. The walls did look a bit shaky. No matter! She would be able to fix this herself!

Leafshine slammed her paws onto the cave walls, and smoothed them out with up-and-down motions. There we go-

Suddenly, bits of soil trickled down the walls, before they started to crumble.

"Get out!" Sandgorse was calling for the others to leave the tunnels. Mistmouse and Hickorynose hurried along, while Lilywhisker straggled along behind them.

She couldn't watch a cat die! Especially not in the line of duty! Leafshine darted toward the brown she-cat with a burst of speed, and pushed her just as a mound of dirt fell in her place.
---

By the time the others escaped, Hickorynose pointed out that neither Lilywhisker nor Leafshine were with them. Turning around, they headed back to the tunnel cavern from which they came.

All they could find was Lilywhisker, alive, but with a crushed leg. Leafshine, however, was nowhere to be found.

Declared dead, Leafshine was a reminder of a darker side to the tunnels that aided WindClan. Perhaps, if they took too much from them, in turn they would take lives of their tunnelers. 

Essentially, a price to pay for selfishness. Leafshine was one victim of said selfishness. Ironically, despite not wanting to have a cat die while working, she died on the line of duty.

Chapter Text

Tigerstar's death was a shocker to pretty much all cats in the forest - Scourge ripped open his belly! - yet there wasn't much time to completely take it all in. After his death, Jaggedtooth felt no choice but to join BloodClan. He and Tigerstar got along fairly well, and he didn't have much attachment to the other ShadowClan cats. He wouldn't miss any of them.

Even then, he was chased off by Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw - Tigerstar's own children - at that battle between BloodClan and the others. He ran while being chased by a swarm of apprentices, ready to avenge the deaths of their Clanmates. None of the sentiments Jaggedtooth had for any group he had been in - he had no attachment to them.

Eventually, he settled down inside of a log, tired of fighting, tired of running. He noticed a couple of scratches on his flank, and started to lick those. He didn't have interest in searching for cobwebs at the moment.

---
The next morning had rain pouring down. The ginger tom decided to stay in the log; given that he was distant from any Clan or rogue group, he wouldn't have any help if, for instance, he got a cold. So, he slept.

He slept, and slept, and slept, bombarded by dreams of everything that happened the past few days; Tigerstar's death, Scourge's attempt of control, the struggle between staying to Tigerstar's word or to follow Scourge, how he joined Tigerstar in the first place... all just because he thought Tigerstar was a hunk... boy....

So much for being a cat with taste. Jaggedtooth still remembered when he was called Snag - he could've sworn he wasn't always named that, though... but oh well. Jaggedtooth was the name Tigerstar gave him, so Jaggedtooth it was.

At one point in his dreams, he landed in a place with cold hues but sparkling with stars. Around him were cats - some partly faded, but all had sparkles in their fur - gathering around him.

"He doesn't believe in us," said one cat, a tortoiseshell with a bushy red tail. "Maybe we should just leave him alone?

"We can only save him if we convert him!" insisted a ginger tom with yellow eyes. "Otherwise, he's dead to us."

"Sunstar, that's not fair," the tortoiseshell protested. "We shouldn't force ourselves on cats that didn't have faith in us to begin with...."

A few awkward moments passed. "Fair point. I guess we can leave him alone."

"Sorry about that," the tortoiseshell apologized to Jaggedtooth. "Sometimes, Sunstar bothers cats who don't believe in StarClan in their dreams. It's something he does when he's bored. Nothing personal."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but apology accepted." the ginger tom replied. What was going on... ?

"He thinks that cats can get better if they believe in us," he went on, "but I don't think StarClan's for everyone, really. I mean, it's up to you if you want to be a better cat, not your beliefs."

His mind spun; what the... ? The tortoiseshell did say something smart. Sure, maybe he could not go to the Clans, but not go to BloodClan, either, and do his own thing. Yeah! Maybe he could-

Then, Jaggedtooth woke up. The rain stopped pouring, yet his mind still felt muddy. What in the world happened? Something about starry cats and tortoiseshells with squirrel-like tails... all just a dream, it seemed. Yet, that idea of not subscribing to neither Clans or BloodClan... that sounded appealing, honestly. Enough was enough. He had enough of 'clans' in his life. Yes, even Tigerstar... as hot as he was, he had no chance, given he had not one, but two mates. Also, he was dead. He didn't have much reason to go back to the Clans, but at the same time, Scourge was also probably dead, so it wasn't worth going back to BloodClan, either.

So, a wild loner's life was what he wanted, and so he lived the rest of his days as a loner, not to engage in combat unless necessary. He preferred it like this - it was simple, yet he didn't have to fight anyone, and he didn't have to hurt anyone. He could live in peace!

Chapter Text

Whitekit was the sole surviving kit of Brownclaw and Duskfur. Born to two senior warriors, his other brothers were stillborn, so from the start he was expected to be great, like his parents.

He felt the pressure crack down on him whenever he heard other cats talk about how his father had slain one of the ThunderClan leader's children (this was back in the time where killing warriors was not condemned by the code,) while he listened to stories about how his mother, Brownclaw, took on three ShadowClan cats at once, and won. While the stories sounded far-fetched, Whitekit was only a kit, so he took them as definite word of his parents' feats. Would he ever match up to them?

---
Apprenticeship came, and Whitepaw was now the apprentice of Mapletail, the WindClan deputy. Mapletail was a cat filled with spite, and took it out on her apprentice. Nevertheless the white tom still remained fairly optimistic - he did tell the leader when Mapletail was being particularly nasty - if a bit disheartened thanks to Mapletail's words. Comments criticizing his skill level always made him feel bad about himself. It didn't matter though - he'd be great like his parents, for sure!

---
Soon came warriorhood, and Whitepaw was now Whitetail. Some objected his name deriving from his mentor's, like his parents, but otherwise were fine with the choice the leader gave him. He could fight for his Clan now! Be like Brownclaw and Duskfur! He'd make them proud!

Fighting for his Clan consisted of nearly getting his throat ripped opened, close calls, lots of blood... so much to take in. He watched several Clanmates die in front of his eyes - even his own father! - and fall to ThunderClan. ThunderClan! That Clan full of... dad killers... they'd get what was coming for them!

One day, Whitetail camped outside of ThunderClan's camp, near the ravine. He crouched, and twitched his tail a little in anticipation.

A small grey tabby she-cat popped out of the ravine - none other than ThunderClan's deputy, Thistlefang, that cat who killed his father!

"My name is Whitetail, and you killed my father. Prepare to die!" he declared proudly.

The white tom immediately lunged at her, biting her neck, just like how Mapletail taught him. Thistlefang let out a low yowl, then lay still.

What he didn't see was another cat come out - a bulky tortoiseshell, who screamed before heading back. That was... ThunderClan's leader, Dapplestar! Quickly, Whitetail fled the area, returning to the WindClan moors.

It wasn't long before Dapplestar stormed over to WindClan's camp. The WindClan leader was startled, but nevertheless composed.

"What is it, Dapplestar?" they asked.

"One of your warriors killed my deputy!" she snarled. "That white tom with the bendy tail, over there!" 

She motioned toward Whitetail. His mouth was still tainted with blood!

"Whitetail!" Brownclaw stared at him with sheer shock.

"He's nothing like either of his parents!" snorted the WindClan leader. "He's dead to this entire Clan. While nothing says it is against the code to kill a warrior, it never said it wasn't against the code to kill a deputy."

"Exactly," Dapplestar agreed. "Please deal with this... living maggot!"

Hatred, bitterness... spite. Such emotions filled Whitetail to his very core. How dare they kick him out! Deputies were just special warriors! They were no different from them!

"Whitetail, despite your complete loyalty to WindClan throughout these years, your poor judgment has resulted in your exile. Leave, unless you wish for one of our own warriors to kill you."

"I'll show you! I'll show all of you!" If cats could cry, then Whitetail would be a sniveling, whimpering mess. The white tom left the hollow, stomping his feet to let out his anger.

He didn't need them! He'd be fine on his own! First, he had to change his name... Maggottail, that would work. Dapplestar called him a maggot, and now he thought of it, he did have white fur and a strange tail. Since he wasn't part of a Clan anymore, he didn't need to follow traditional naming conventions, either. Who cared?

Maggottail went on to become one of the most reviled menaces of the early Clans. He would shift between mere annoyances, invading the camps of the Clan cats for fun, to actual threats, like killing cats or spreading rumors. His pettiness would earn him a spot in the Dark Forest... even in the modern day, when he was barely anything more than an outline, he was still present.

His story was used as a lesson to kits, one to not take revenge kills to an extreme.

This revenge kill, however, did nothing to stop the countless deaths, and it would continue like this for several generations. Maggottail was just the first textbook example of it.

Chapter Text

"Bow, Honey Pelt," commanded a she-cat with tan stripes.

The yellow tabby tom did as told, and rested on one leg.

"Now, what do you have to report about ThunderClan today?" she snorted. Being the daughter of Sky, she was entitled to be the next SkyClan leader - her sister, Dew Petal, worked alongside her as her deputy.

"Well, Owlstar decided he would send some of his warriors over here to hunt," he explained. "He says that they would be off our land before high noon, though."

The stocky she-cat leapt off of the tree stump. "So, that's how shitty ThunderClan toms play this game, huh? Well, I'll see about that!"

---
High noon. Flowerstar arrived to see a few ThunderClan warriors in the bushes, climbing trees, or just lying around.

"Oh, I'm sooo scared of weak ol' SkyClan," taunted a dappled gray tom. 

"Snail Shell, you're going to get screwed over by Honey Pelt over there," commented a black she-cat with thick fur.

"Like he won't kick my ass first!" boasted a gold-and-white tabby.

"Blue Whisker, are you asking for death?" the black she-cat fretted.

"No worries, Shivering Rose," Blue Whisker assured her. "Honey Pelt's my brother; he'll be a piece of fresh-kill to us!"

Flowerstar was accompanied by not only Honey Pelt, but also Birch and Sparrow Fur.

"What are you three doing here?" she demanded.

"Well, Owlstar told us to come here," Snail Shell explained, "Didn't Honey Pelt tell you?"

"Right, but would you like it if I sent some of my warriors onto your land?" she questioned. "If we took some of your prey? Owlstar would appreciate that, wouldn't he?"

Snail Shell hanged his head in shame. "... True. I guess we'll leave you alone."

Turning to the two she-cats, he said, "C'mon, guys. Let's go home."

The trio of ThunderClan cats turned around, and headed back into the bushes, until they were no longer able to be seen.

"Well, that takes care of them!" Flowerstar said triumphantly. The day was saved yet again thanks to SkyClan's leader.

---
When she returned, several of her warriors burst out of the dens, in awe of their leader.

"Anyone missed me?" Looking at the crowd, she added, "Of course!"

"All hail Flowerstar!" Honey Pelt shouted, bowing down in respect. So did Sparrow Fur, and Birch.

Eventually most of the cats in the Clan were bowing, with the exceptions of Acorn Fur, the medicine cat, and Dew Petal.

"Don't you think you're taking this leader thing a little too far?" Acorn Fur asked nervously.

"Sky wasn't the greatest of cats... my father did so much wrong. It's up to me to fix his mistakes," Flowerstar reasoned. "It was between me and Dew Petal, and my sister said that she couldn't imagine paying for what he did."

"I'm... right here?" Dew Petal was annoyed briefly, then chimed in on the conversation. "Anyway, yeah, that would be too much for me. Flowerstar, you sure do put up with a lot."

"Should I even get started?" the tan-striped she-cat sighed. "Quick Water's stories about her lover? Sparrow Fur wanting to be a leader? Birch also wanting to be a leader? Pink Eyes and his whole load of problems? How would my father have dealt with these things?"

"Well, it wouldn't have been smooth, that's for sure," her sister snarked. Sky died a few moons ago, killed by a WindClan warrior in a border skirmish. After his death, Star Flower retired to the elder's den.

Flowerstar snorted. "Better having shaky agreements than any fights at all."

Pride swelled in her - she was already doing better than her late father - yet, she couldn't help but worry. What if she did mess up? What if she too caused unnecessary battles? Would she be as awful as him? Hopefully not. She had an entire Clan of cats willing to live and die for her.

Flowerstar thought she would do fine. Of course she would, she was a leader's daughter - although a controversial one - so the skills were in her blood! She could do it!

She only had to try, and try she did.

Chapter Text

Hawk Swoop basked in the sunlight on a flat rock, in midst of the plain. Gray Wing ordered her to survey the general area, and report back any sign of rogue cats. She hadn't seen anyone yet, though - the day was fairly lazy, with nothing in particular to note of.

Well, except maybe one. Three gray cats were squabbling nearby. Well, if Gray Wing wanted stuff on rogue cats, then... if only Quick Water were here to see this!

"I told you to stay off our land!" snorted a thin gray she-cat. A dark gray she-cat with spiky, matted fur was right next to her.

"My kits are coming any day!" complained a paler gray she-cat. Her belly was plump, filled with kits. 

"You can go somewhere else, then!" the dark gray cat said, annoyed.

"Uh, excuse me," Hawk Swoop slid in between the three cats, "what's going on?"

"Oh great, it's one of those mountain cats," the thin gray cat muttered. "Anyway, this lady over here is going onto our land! We don't like that! Get it?"

"Thorn, we don't know that," the matted dark gray cat pointed out. "For all we know, she could live far away from here!"

"Nah, Dew," Thorn replied, "She smells like a mountain cat, looks like a mountain cat. She's gotta be one."

Dew sighed as Thorn continued with her explanation. "So, what we're trying to do is to get this cat to leave."

"Can't I take her somewhere else?" Hawk Swoop suggested. These guys were adamant on this, it seemed.

"Sure, why the heck not?" Thorn said. Dew nodded her head in agreement. Then, the two turned around, and ran to the distance - having spotted a rabbit.

Hawk Swoop was left with the expecting pale gray she-cat. "Okay, any ideas in mind?"

"I got nothing."

"... Okay. I can still... work with that!" Making stuff up on the spot wasn't exactly one of her greatest talents... oh well....

"Do you like some place warm, or some place with lots of shade?"

"... A place where I can be covered?"

"Okay! Got it! Think you can make a nest yourself, or do you need help?"

"I think I'll be fine, thanks."

A cavern in the tunnels proved to be ideal; thanks to Shattered Ice, the moor cats had a whole network of them to use. Not like they used all of the empty rooms, though.

"Thank you!" the gray cat said. She started digging a little to make an opening for her to sit. "It's not much, but it'll do for now."

"No problem," the ginger she-cat said. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Tansy."

"Mine's Hawk Swoop. I hope we get to see each other again!"

"Here's to another good meeting!" Tansy said.

Hawk Swoop exited the tunnels, satisfied with her work.

---
When she got back, Gray Wing expected the report.

"There were three cats arguing on the moor," she explained. "I got two of them to leave by promising to take the other somewhere else, since she was expecting kits. The third one is in a cavern in the tunnels."

The dark gray tom nodded respectfully. "Well done," he complimented. "If those two ever bother us, we'll be sure to reason something with them."

"Right," Hawk Swoop agreed. "I'm pretty sure they won't, though. Just two cats who are a little aggressive, that's all!"

"I can only hope so." Gray Wing gave the signal that the report was over, and dismissed the ginger she-cat. Now, she could go back to her kits.

She still thought about Tansy, that cat who she took to to the tunnels. Was she safe? Or Dew and Thorn, that couple of rogues who were bothering them. What was their problem?

Despite feeling optimistic about the future, she couldn't help but wonder about the uncertain future.