Unintended ~ WFF Potluck ~ Part 8 9/8
Feb 4, 2019 4:46:20 GMT -5
phantomstar57, » ѕнαdσω ⚔️, and 3 more like this
Post by ~Sapphire~ on Feb 4, 2019 4:46:20 GMT -5
Welcome!
Hello, and welcome to Unintended, part of the WFF Potluck event! I'm really excited to share this story - I hope you enjoy it!
Set in the Old Forest sometime after DOTC, WindClan and RiverClan have been at war for seasons with no end in sight. When Mosspaw, a WindClan apprentice, is taken as a hostage to RiverClan, she strikes up a tentative friendship with a RiverClan apprentice, Birchpaw. But soon the time comes for Mosspaw to return to her own Clan, and the two she-cats must fight to stay together.
Unintended
[1]
The night they take her away, the sky over WindClan’s moor is wide and empty of stars.
Mosspaw sits quietly at the edge of the group of warriors, trying not to cry, as the details are discussed. Three moons, the RiverClan cats say. Mosspaw’s eight moons old now - in three moons time she’ll almost be warrior age, the whole of her first leaf-bare passed on the moor without her being there to see it. What’ll she even do while she’s in RiverClan? Will she have to learn how to swim, to fish?
Three moons, the WindClan cats agree. Three moons of peace. Three moons of no battles, no bloodshed, no deaths. Three moons’ respite from a war that has lasted seasons, and the only price an exchange of apprentices, a guarantee of their safety unless the truce is broken.
You can do that, can’t you Mosspaw?
She can’t. She doesn’t know how to say it, though, her voice strangled by the panic that’s been building up inside her since she reached for Tawnystar’s bundle of grass stems and drew out the shortest. Instead, she nods meekly, her whole mind full of the phrase three moons.
Will they keep her there so long that she forgets how to be a WindClan cat?
Mosspaw keeps her eyes fixed on the storm cloud filled sky as the RiverClan cats lead her across the moor, mostly ignoring their attempts to talk to her. The leader of the patrol introduces himself as Reedclaw, the RiverClan deputy. His Clanmate, an older she-cat with a fresh scar where her right ear should be, is called Batflight.
“I was Duckpaw’s mentor up until now,” Batflight tells Mosspaw as the three cats approach the border. Duckpaw is the apprentice that RiverClan gave up in this exchange. Mosspaw’s opposite number. “So I suppose I’m your mentor now. I’m not at all sure Troutstar knows what he’s doing with this exchange, but we’ll sort something out, I promise.”
Reedclaw says, “You’ll pick up the training in no time. Batflight mentored me, back in the day - she’s a brilliant teacher.”
“Even if you never did get your hunting crouch right,” Batflight says, turning to Mosspaw with a twinkle in her green eyes. Mosspaw doesn’t smile back.
“Will I be able to go to Gatherings?” she asks quietly.
Batflight exchanges a glance with her deputy. “I don’t see any reason why not. In fact, I’ll talk to Troutstar when we get back to camp.”
“Thanks,” Mosspaw says. This time, she does try to smile.
Batflight blinks at her sympathetically. “The other apprentices should be asleep when you get in,” the warrior says. “So you won’t need to worry about them disturbing you. There’s only two of them anyway, Birchpaw and Stonepaw.”
“Stonepaw’ll look out for you, won’t he?” Reedclaw says.
Batflight nods. “Yes, you’ll be safe with Stonepaw. Look, we’re almost at the river now,” she adds. “We’ll take the Twoleg bridge across, I think. Reedclaw, would you mind going ahead to let Troutstar know we’re coming?”
To Mosspaw’s slight surprise, the deputy obeys his warrior’s order without question. As he dives into the river and begins to swim with a fast, smooth stroke to the other side, Batflight turns to Mosspaw.
“I’ll make sure Troutstar takes you to the Gatherings, don’t worry. Is there anything else I can do?”
Let me go back to my family, Mosspaw thinks. To Batflight, she shrugs. “D-do I really have to learn how to swim?”
“I’m afraid you do,” Batflight replies. “It wouldn’t be safe to have you wandering the territory otherwise. And Mosspaw? Try to think of this as an adventure. I know it’s difficult for you right now, but what’s been decided has been decided. And after all, it’s only for three moons.”
[2]
The next morning, Mosspaw awakes to bright sunlight shining into the almost empty den.
She's overslept. Not surprising, since it was past moonhigh when the RiverClan cats finally got her settled into the apprentices' den. Apparently even RiverClan isn't mean enough to wake her up early on her first day here.
Blinking, she drags herself out of her new, mossy nest, taking in her surroundings. The RiverClan camp's noisier than WindClan, all the bustle and commotion of Clan life confined to the island rather than spread out on the moor. The river's constant churning fills any quiet moments. The den that Mosspaw's in has walls tightly woven out of dead reeds, with a few shells lodged into the weave. RiverClan scent is everywhere, of course, along with the muddy scent of the river and the pervasive smell of fish.
Mosspaw hates every detail.
Footsteps sound outside the den, loud and forceful, making Mosspaw startle. A young tabby she-cat, about Mosspaw's age, pushes her way into the den. Seeing Mosspaw there, she stops short, her amber gaze stormy.
"I forgot you were here."
Mosspaw isn't brave enough to stare down the she-cat, so settles for looking at the pattern of reed stems on the den floor. This must be one of the apprentices Batflight mentioned last night; Stonepaw, or -
"Are you Birchpaw?"
"That's me, yeah." Birchpaw doesn't seem too pleased about it. Turning away from Mosspaw, she crosses the den and plumps down into the nest across from Mosspaw, the one furthest from the den entrance.
Self-consciously, Mosspaw starts grooming the scraps of moss and reed out of her fur. Several minutes pass before she decides to break the silence. "I'm Mosspaw-"
Birchpaw cuts her off. "Yeah, I heard. Not many WindClan cats in the camp."
That figures. “Are you looking for someone?” Mosspaw asks.
“More like avoiding someone,” Birchpaw says. “Specifically, my mentor.”
“Are they… not good?”
“Eh, he’s okay. I guess. I just don’t want to train right now.”
“Fair enough,” Mosspaw says, not that she ever really skipped out on training in WindClan. She’s just relieved that Birchpaw’s no longer biting her head off. Emboldened, she asks, “So, um, what’s everyone like here?”
Birchpaw sighs. “Look,” she says, her voice tired. “Could you just get out of here? I’m not in the mood to kit-sit, alright?”
Mosspaw nods. "Um, where should I go now? Batflight and Reedclaw didn't tell me what I'm supposed to do today…”
"What am I, your mum? Go ask someone." Birchpaw's voice is muffled as she settles herself further into her nest.
Helpful, Mosspaw thinks. Cautiously, she pokes her head outside the den and emerges into a throng of RiverClan warriors. None of them pay any attention to her. She follows their gaze to the centre of the crowd, where Reedclaw is reeling off a list of names and patrols for the afternoon. Just yesterday, Mosspaw was back in WindClan's camp, listening to Breezetail assign the same patrols…
“There you are, Mosspaw.” Batflight swoops down on her, reminding Mosspaw inescapably of the warrior’s namesake. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Have you had the chance to talk to anyone yet?”
“Um,” Mosspaw hesitates. “Just one apprentice. Birchpaw?”
Batflight smiles at the look on Mosspaw’s face. “I wouldn’t worry about Birchpaw. Her bark’s worse than her bite, you’ll soon find out. Here, I’ll introduce you to Stonepaw and some of the warriors, then you can have your first swimming lesson.”
Mosspaw follows. Stonepaw turns out to be a tall, confident tom in his eleventh moon. He’s polite, even offering Mosspaw a tour of the camp - about the only good thing he has going for him.
“You must feel really lucky to come here,” he says as soon as Batwing leaves them alone. “I mean, our dens must feel like luxury to you. How’s it feel to have this much food?”
“Thanks for offering to show me around,” Mosspaw replies. “Maybe later? I - I think Batflight wants me for a swimming lesson now.”
She escapes to the riverbank, where her first swimming lesson goes about as well as she expected. It’s not like she came here to make friends. In three moons time she’ll be fighting these cats in battle.
Still, curled up in the apprentices’ den that night, Mosspaw’s loneliness, displaced by the confusion of new surroundings, comes rushing back to her. Batflight confirmed that Mosspaw can attend Gatherings, but what good will that do when there's still half a moon before Mosspaw sees her parents, her Clanmates, a friendly face? Mosspaw refuses to cry, not in front of Birchpaw and Stonepaw, but the tears escape anyway, splashing onto the moss of her unfamiliar, uncomfortable nest.
She's never felt so alone.
[3]
A quarter moon passes, and Mosspaw hates every minute of it.
She misses WindClan, more than she’d ever have expected. Her parents, her friends, her mentor, all of them continuing their lives without her. She wonders if they think the truce is worth it. She even misses the territory - stuck on RiverClan’s island until she learns to swim, Mosspaw wishes she’d never taken the quiet expanses of WindClan’s moor for granted.
Training’s a mess at first. As nobody’s sure whether teaching Mosspaw RiverClan hunting and fighting techniques is a good idea, it mostly involves swimming, which Batflight insists is a skill every cat needs to learn, even WindClan. “What would you do if someone fell into the gorge on your own territory?” the warrior asks at the start of another day of swimming lessons.
Mosspaw shrugs, keeping a wary eye on the river.
“You might be able to help out a Clanmate with this sort of knowledge, you never know. Now, Mosspaw, have another go at that stroke I showed you. You nearly had it yesterday.”
Mosspaw does not nearly have it, and both she and Batflight know that. Morosely, Mosspaw pushes off from the riverbank and wades out into the shallows, shivering as the icy water reaches her belly, then her chest. Batflight plunges in after her, supporting Mosspaw as she tries again and again to keep herself afloat. The sun inches across the glacial blue sky, halfway to sunhigh already, and Mosspaw’s swimming is still about as useful for keeping her afloat as a solid chunk of rock.
Batflight’s doing her best not to show her frustration, but her instructions have definitely become terser since the start of the lesson, her glances up at the sun more frequent. “You keep curling up, Mosspaw! Just relax. Of course you’re going to sink like a stone if you’re shaped like one.”
“I just don’t understand how,” Mosspaw says.
“I’ve told you how,” Batflight says. “Stay relaxed, stay horizontal, stay afloat. It’s not as hard as you’re making it.”
“It is hard for me,” Mosspaw says, all her frustration rising in her voice. “I’m just not cut out for swimming, okay?”
Batflight’s silent, like Mosspaw just slapped her. It’s probably the first time Mosspaw’s snapped since she got to RiverClan. Then Batflight’s expression clears into something more like sympathy.
“Sorry, Mosspaw. I get that you’re finding this hard, although honestly I think this is just a block you need to get through. How about we leave training for the morning?”
Mosspaw nods, feeling tears pressing at the corners of her eyes.
“I’ll meet you back at camp after sunhigh, then,” Batflight says. With a smooth, fast stroke, she sets off swimming in the direction of the shore. Mosspaw wades slowly back to the riverbank. The place Batflight chose for their lessons is a secluded backwater at the very tip of RiverClan’s island, too shallow for fishing and screened from the camp by the drooping, frosted branches of a weeping willow tree. If Mosspaw ignores the hum of voices coming from the camp, she can almost pretend she’s somewhere else entirely, somewhere closer to home.
One quarter moon down. Eleven quarter moons to go.
It’s then that Mosspaw realises that she isn’t alone. Sitting in the hollow made by the snaking, twisted willow roots and apparently engrossed in watching the river is Birchpaw, her tabby fur camouflaging her against the greys and browns of the riverbank. Pushing aside the temptation to ask why in StarClan Birchpaw was watching the lesson, Mosspaw sighs and begins the climb up towards the camp. Maybe the apprentices’ den will be empty instead.
“Wait,” Birchpaw says, and Mosspaw turns. “You can stay here with me. Join the I Hate RiverClan support group.”
Mosspaw narrows her eyes at Birchpaw, waiting for the punchline. Other than the odd greeting, the two apprentices haven’t spoken since Mosspaw’s first day. She doesn’t see why they’d start now.
As Mosspaw hesitates, Birchpaw pats the space next to her with a front paw. “You’ve got a free morning, don’t go back to camp.” And then, “Look, I don’t bite, okay?”
“Why are you being friendly now?” Mosspaw blurts.
“‘Cause I’m a nice cat deep down,” Birchpaw deadpans. “I’m sorry I was rude to you the other day. I was in a bad mood.”
“I kind of guessed,” Mosspaw says.
Birchpaw half-smiles. “Sorry. The only good thing about being me is that I don’t have to deal with me.”
“I dunno,” Mosspaw says. “You’re being nice right now.”
“Flatterer,” Birchpaw says, then looks away. “For StarClan’s sake, Mosspaw, sit down. You’re making me nervous with that hovering.”
Mosspaw sits. The two she-cats are quiet for a few minutes, both gazing out over the river. With the cold weather, a mist has risen over its waters, softening the horizon into a distant grey blur. Somewhere upstream is the gorge, and WindClan territory, but for once Mosspaw doesn’t try to look for it.
“So,” Birchpaw asks. “How about that support group?”
[4]
“Hey, it’s Mosspaw!”
“Mosspaw, how’re you doing? Those RiverClan cats better be treating you well.”
“We’ve all missed having you around camp, you know.”
Another quarter moon later, and it’s the Gathering night at last. Mosspaw tags along at the back of Troutstar’s patrol, excitement fizzing in her stomach at her first trip off RiverClan’s island in half a moon. The WindClan and RiverClan patrols meet just outside Fourtrees, and after the initial rush of everyone trying to talk to her at once, Mosspaw finds herself standing between her parents, pressed close to both of them like she’s a kit again. Everyone’s eager to tell her the latest news, ask her how she’s been. After half a moon, it’s such a relief to feel like she belongs somewhere again.
“We’ve missed you so much,” her father, Dustfang, tells her, green eyes warm and loving. “But we’re so proud of you.”
“Only two and a half more moons of this nonsense,” her mother, Leafglide, growls.
The main gossip at the Gathering is WindClan’s and RiverClan’s truce. Both Troutstar and Tawnystar report a prosperous moon for their Clans: more prey, less injuries, all the benefits of peacetime. Troutstar jokes that his medicine cat, Meadowpelt, has spent half the moon asleep, there’s so little need for her. ThunderClan’s and ShadowClan’s leaders express their relief that the other two Clans have finally found common ground.
Her parents’ eyes meet above Mosspaw’s head, and they smile down at her. Something uneasy shifts in Mosspaw’s chest; she looks away, across the bustling clearing, until her gaze catches on the one cat who doesn’t seem to be enjoying the Gathering.
She’s spoken to Birchpaw a few more times since the day by the willow tree. Mostly in passing - Birchpaw always seems to be in the apprentices’ den or lurking around the training areas, rarely in training like she’s supposed to be. Mosspaw’s not even sure who her mentor is.
Birchpaw always has a greeting for Mosspaw, though, which is more than a lot of RiverClan can manage even after half a moon.
Now, Birchpaw’s hovering at the edge of the main RiverClan group. She seems unsure where to go - her Clanmate Stonepaw has already joined a group of ShadowClan apprentices, while Mosspaw’s counterpart Duckpaw is talking earnestly to Batflight. Her expression is downcast, and she isn’t joining in any of the cheering.
“Is that someone you’re friends with?” Mosspaw’s mother asks. Mosspaw jumps and tears her gaze away, realising she’s been staring.
“I guess,” she mumbles. “I mean, we talk a bit.”
Mosspaw’s parents exchange another, more complicated glance. “There’s no harm in talking,” her father says.
Leafglide sighs. “I suppose not. Isn’t she Sunclaw’s old apprentice?”
“He was a good warrior,” Dustfang reflects. “I’m surprised his apprentice isn’t the talk of the Clans.”
Mosspaw starts to form the word Was? but thinks better of it. There’s no cat in RiverClan called Sunclaw that she knows of. She files the name away in a list of questions to ask Birchpaw, or Batflight, or no-one.
Her mother swiftly changes the subject back to the latest spat between the tunnellers and the moor runners, and Mosspaw pushes Birchpaw's past to the back of her mind. She only has tonight, and she wants to see everyone from WindClan that she can manage, to soak up as much of her birth Clan as she possibly can.
[5]
Less than a moon into the exchange, and the nights are rapidly drawing in. Short, grey days give way to indecisive twilights only a few hours after the return of the noon patrols, and the RiverClan cats retreat to the island earlier each night to avoid the thick, blinding fog that rises over the river. Batflight restricts Mosspaw's swimming lessons to warmer days and starts her on fishing. Everything in camp is damp and cold - the dens, the nests, Mosspaw’s moor-soft fur.
The long nights and slack schedule also make it ridiculously easy for apprentices to sneak out of camp, which Birchpaw takes full advantage of.
“Where do you go?” Mosspaw asks one night, when Birchpaw slips into the apprentices’ den just before dawn. “You’re not swimming, are you? The river must be freezing.”
In answer, Birchpaw shakes out her pelt, scattering droplets to the den floor. “I keep to the shallows. It’s fun. Burns off energy.”
You’d burn off that energy if you just went to training, Mosspaw thinks, edging away from Birchpaw’s spray of water. It's ice-cold; surely even a RiverClan cat can't tolerate these temperatures for long.
Birchpaw continues, “You could come out with me some night, if you want.”
“Really?” Mosspaw asks skeptically. “And break how many rules?”
“What’s the worst they could do, send you back to RiverClan?”
Sometimes being with Birchpaw feels like a test, like Mosspaw has to prove she’s bold enough to be worthy of her attention. “Fine,” she says, before the rest of her brain can stop her.
Even in the darkness, Birchpaw’s voice makes her surprise clear. “Fine?”
“I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
“Promise?” Birchpaw says. She settles down into her nest in between Mosspaw and Stonepaw, who’s still snoring peacefully. “I’ll wake you up, then. Not that you seem to need it.”
“You’re not getting me to swim, though,” Mosspaw says, and she thinks she hears Birchpaw snicker.
Birchpaw’s right about one thing - there’s no waking up of Mosspaw the next night. Ever since she came to RiverClan, and especially since the nights started drawing in and Batflight eased off on the swimming lessons, Mosspaw’s found it hard to sleep. It’s no trouble at all for her to lie in her nest for an hour or so as the activity in the camp dies down, staring at the stars through a crack in the woven roof and wondering what the night ahead will bring. She’s less nervous than she thought. Maybe it’s Birchpaw's confidence that nothing will go wrong - or maybe it’s the hope she ignited with the words send you back to RiverClan.
Either way, when Birchpaw prods her, Mosspaw rolls out of her nest without hesitation and follows the older apprentice down to the riverbank. The river’s been on the rise for a few days now, its choppy waters swallowing more and more of the straggling grass at the island’s edge, whipped into peaks and troughs by the icy breeze. Thanks to the fog and the ragged clouds that are drifting over the crescent moon, Mosspaw can’t see more than a few fox-lengths offshore.
“You’re going swimming in this?”
Birchpaw doesn’t even hesitate. “Course I am. You joining me?”
“You’re joking,” Mosspaw says, but she hears her voice waver. What’ll she do if Birchpaw wades into the water and gets swept away? Mosspaw’s probably the worst swimmer on this island, and as for asking for help, she doesn’t know if she’s more scared of the senior warriors or Birchpaw. “You - you don’t need to impress me.”
“Yeah, ‘cause impressing you is what I’m worried about,” Birchpaw says, but she doesn’t move any closer to the water. Instead, she settles herself down a tail length from its edge.
Relieved, Mosspaw sits down beside her, shifting to get comfortable on the wet, uneven ground. Her fur’s going to be even wetter and muddier than usual after this, but she tries to push the thought out of her mind. For a moment, the only sound is the splashing of the river and the hiss of the wind through the willow branches above them. Birchpaw turns to Mosspaw, mouth open as if she’s about to speak, but closes it as another voice floats down to them from upriver, its tone young, high and desperate. Both she-cats turn towards the sound.
“Help! I can’t swim, can somebody please help me?”
[6]
To both of their surprise, Mosspaw’s the one who reacts first. The moment she hears the voice she jumps up, scanning the foggy darkness with desperate eyes. “Where’s that coming from? We need to do something.”
“I don’t know,” Birchpaw says, scrambling to her paws. “In this fog, it could be coming from anywhere.”
“We should go back to camp,” Mosspaw says. Two apprentices - one with less than a moon of swimming lessons - don’t make for the most promising rescue team. “If we wake up Batflight or someone…”
Birchpaw shakes her head. “No time, they’ll all be fast asleep.”
“Then what do we do? Can you swim in and look for them?”
“Not with the river like this,” Birchpaw blurts.
“We literally came out here so you could go swimming!”
Birchpaw sighs. “Mosspaw, I may have been messing with you about going swimming. I fell in last night, okay, and it seemed like a fun joke to pretend it was on purpose.”
“Brilliant,” Mosspaw mutters, although honestly, she’s mostly mad she didn’t see this coming. Night swimming in this weather - yeah right. “Let’s all tease the WindClan cat. So now what?”
To her credit, Birchpaw doesn’t try and apologise. “Um, we go to the bottom of the island, I guess. And hope we spot this cat as they go past.”
They run. Mosspaw, at this point just as familiar with RiverClan’s island as Birchpaw is, takes the lead, heading for the backwater where she and Birchpaw had their first conversation. Even in full daylight, the area is an obstacle course of loose pebbles, twisted willow roots, and debris washed up in previous leaf-bares’ floods. At night, and with the swollen river bubbling between the willow roots, it’s downright treacherous.
As Mosspaw and Birchpaw stumble and splash their way to the riverbank, the shouting redoubles. “Please, somebody!”
“We’re coming,” Birchpaw yells, the fog making her voice echoey and strange.
Mosspaw adds, “Tell us where you are.”
“I’m near the island,” the voice shouts back, not entirely helpfully. Then it adds, sounding surprised but relieved, “Hey, I think I’ve stopped.”
Relief rushes through Mosspaw, making her legs weak. She squints into the darkness and sees a small, pale-furred figure clinging to a dangling willow branch. If the cat hadn’t managed to grab onto the branch when they did, they’d have been swept right past the island and out of RiverClan territory.
She nudges Birchpaw, who nods impatiently and calls out, “Keep holding on.”
“No fear!”
Birchpaw turns to Mosspaw. “See that root there? I think we can follow it out to where they are. You first.”
“Me first?”
“So I can see if you fall off.”
Gingerly, Mosspaw places one paw on the wide, gnarled willow root, then another. Part of her wonders if this is just another trick, but she pushes the thought to the back of her mind. Even Birchpaw wouldn’t risk messing up something this important - right? Sinking her claws into the soft, waterlogged wood with every pawstep and glancing back at Birchpaw with every other one, she inches her way along the root.
“Okay, stop now,” Birchpaw orders, and dives into the water, splashing Mosspaw as she does so. She swims towards the cat with the swift, elegant stroke of a true RiverClan cat, and murmurs something to him that Mosspaw can’t catch; a moment later she swims back to Mosspaw, the other cat now balanced perilously on her narrow back.
“Help him up,” she tells Mosspaw, her breath coming in gasps.
Mosspaw sinks her teeth into the strange cat’s scruff and heaves him off Birchpaw and onto the willow root, where he clings on tightly, shivering so violently that his whole body shakes. It’s only now she’s so close to him that Mosspaw smells the WindClan scent on his sodden pelt, and recognises who he is.
“Sedgekit! What happened to you?”
“Sedgepaw,” he corrects. Mosspaw remembers Tawneystar’s announcement of new apprentices at the Gathering. “I w-was on night patrol, and I f-fell over the edge of the g-g-gorge.”
With the last words, he sounds like he’s about to cry. Mosspaw doesn’t blame him. Hurriedly, she guides him back along the root to solid ground. She’s so relieved to get him there that she stumbles on the last step, falling backwards into the water. The icy river soaks her fur in an instant, but before the current can drag her beyond the island she feels a warm presence beside her, guiding her back to the shore.
“I’ve got you,” says Birchpaw. Mosspaw clings onto her, and together the two she-cats swim back to shore, collapsing in a heap as soon as they reach more-or-less solid ground. Exhausted from their rescue attempt, neither of them wants to leave the safety of the other.
They’re still like that when the RiverClan cats arrive.
[7]
Much to her disappointment, they don’t send Mosspaw back to WindClan.
What Batflight does do is give Mosspaw a long, comprehensive telling-off, beginning with how foolish it was to sneak out, continuing through how reckless it was to try and rescue Sedgepaw on their own, and finishing with a general recap of the dangers associated with night-time, the river, and flooding. Then she praises Mosspaw’s bravery for going ahead with the rescue anyway, and promises that their next swimming lesson will include livesaving.
Mosspaw’s not sure if the last part is a reward or a punishment, honestly.
They don’t send Mosspaw back to WindClan, but she is allowed to help Batflight escort Sedgepaw back home later that morning, once Meadowpelt has checked over all three apprentices and pronounced them healthy. Probably just as a witness that RiverClan hadn’t tried to kidnap Sedgepaw, but still. Anticipation fizzes in her veins as the patrol climbs out of RiverClan's lush fields towards the uplands - and is heightened even further when her father and his fellow warrior Skygaze meet them at the border.
"State your purpose, tresspassers-" Dustfang begins, and stops as he sees the two WindClan apprentices in the group. "Sedgepaw, we were looking for you! And Mosspaw! What are you doing here?"
"Your daughter's a hero," Batflight says, stepping forward. Mosspaw’s not surprised she recognises him; if there's a cat in the Clans that Batflight doesn't know, Mosspaw’s yet to hear of them. "She rescued Sedgepaw from the river last night. RiverClan apologies for the delay in returning your apprentice, but Meadowpelt insisted that he needed to rest."
"I'm just grateful to have Sedgepaw back," Mosspaw’s father says. "Mosspaw, that's amazing! You're beginning to take to the river, then?"
Mosspaw wrinkles her nose. "No chance."
"Mosspaw’s making real progress in her swimming lessons," Batflight says, to Mosspaw’s surprise and embarrassment. "Maybe she'll be able to teach the rest of you when she gets back home."
"Maybe," Dustfang says. He and Batflight exchange tight, polite smiles. It's strange seeing them together. "How did you find Sedgepaw?"
Batflight explains, while Mosspaw's father draws Mosspaw close to him with his long tail, ruffling her fur like when she was a kit. She leans into his familiar touch. Except for, well, for that moment with Birchpaw last night, she hasn't been this close to another cat in what seems like a long time.
"Thanks for your help," Skygaze says, with a flick of her ears. "There's no need for you to journey further, though - we can take Sedgepaw home from here."
Batflight's eyes narrow. "Don't you want us to explain to Tawnystar what happened?"
Dustfang smiles awkwardly. "We can pass on the story ourselves."
"How considerate," Batflight says. "Fine, Mosspaw, time to head back. Let's see if we can't find someone for you to rescue before it gets dark."
Without further ado, she turns around and marches back across the border. Mosspaw's father releases her, but doesn't move away. She doesn't have to leave, Mosspaw thinks. If she stayed here, refused to go back with Batflight, maybe they'd take her back to camp. Maybe Batflight could take Sedgepaw to RiverClan instead.
Maybe, if Mosspaw had taken advantage of RiverClan's lax security to sneak back to the moor last night instead of join Birchpaw's ridiculous swimming expedition, she'd already be home.
Mosspaw sighs, and steps away from her father. Maybe it's a cowardly choice she's making, maybe it's brave - she doesn't know anymore. "Bye, Dad."
"See you at the Gathering," he replies. "We miss you!"
"Me too," Mosspaw says, and with one last glance over her shoulder, she treks after Batflight.
[8]
By the time they get back to the island the rain's started up again, so Mosspaw spends the rest of the daylight huddled on the riverbank as Batflight explains basic lifesaving. The rain's coming down in cold, drenching sheets, making the dry land almost indistinguishable from the river. Despite her usual precision, Batflight keeps repeating sentences and letting her gaze stray upstream towards WindClan territory. Mosspaw guesses she's thinking about the meeting at the border.
"What happened?" she asks, when Batflight pauses her instructions. "Back this morning, with Skygaze?"
"Oh, that," Batflight says. "An overreaction, that's all, on both sides. They didn't want me seeing your camp."
Mosspaw frowns. "But you were there last moon."
"Tawnystar's been ramping up her defences, then," Batflight says. "The paranoid fool, no offence to your leader. What's the point of messing you apprentices around if we can't even act like we're at peace?"
"Do - do you think Tawnystar's going to break the truce?"
Batflight shakes her head. "I think she'll keep the peace until you and Duckpaw are back where you belong. But after that... It's a crying shame that cats don't see the value of peace anymore."
Anymore, Mosspaw thinks. "Do you remember when the wars started?"
"I remember long before that," Batflight said. "WindClan and RiverClan used to be allies, you know. Fought together against some rogues that were giving us trouble."
"Really? When was that?"
"A long time ago," Batflight says, her gaze wandering up the river again. "Anyway, Mosspaw, you've avoided getting in the river long enough. In you go, four fox-lengths down the shore and back and then you can show me if you were listening."
Mosspaw wasn't actually trying to play for time, but all that talk of the war has reminded her of something else she wants to ask. "Batflight, did you ever know a cat called Sunclaw? My parents were talking about him at the Gathering."
Batflight's expression, dour at the best of times, is downright stony. "Mosspaw, water. Now. Don't push me."
"Sorry-" Mosspaw starts, but breaks off as both she-cats turn their heads towards a crashing sound in the undergrowth. Birchpaw, attending a training session for possibly the first time since Mosspaw came to RiverClan.
"Hey, Batflight," Birchpaw says. Mosspaw hopes desperately that the other apprentice didn't overhear her question about Sunclaw. "Reedclaw sent me over, said you needed someone for Mosspaw to haul out the river."
"He did?" Batflight asks. She takes a moment to rearrange her expression from surprised to mentorly, then adds, "Very well. Mosspaw was about to swim along the shore and back - I suggest you do the same, then we can start."
"Fine by me," Birchpaw says. Maybe she wasn't entirely lying when she said she liked swimming. As Mosspaw hesitates on the shore, Birchpaw dives into the water and swims a tail-length along the shoreline. She turns to grin at Mosspaw. "Looks like we're going swimming together after all."
Mosspaw rolls her eyes and steps into the river, which honestly is slightly warmer than standing in the rain, and struggles through the four fox-lengths of doggy-paddle before she has to cling to the riverbank again. Birchpaw swims effortlessly to meet her.
"Seems like you're the one who ought to be rescuing me," Mosspaw says. "Sorry you got dragged into this. Batflight's in a bit of a mood."
"You're telling me," Birchpaw says. "But don't worry, I volunteered for this. Since you judge me for skipping training."
"I don't judge you," Mosspaw protests. Sure, Birchpaw's in a good mood today, but she doesn't want to push it.
"You're polite about it," Birchpaw says. "But yeah, you do. But our bonding experience has made me into a better cat now."
Mosspaw rolls her eyes again. "Sure it did."
Batflight clears her throat from the riverbank. "Mosspaw, I'm glad you've made a friend but this is not the time."
The two apprentices swim back to Batflight, who directs Mosspaw in "rescuing" Birchpaw from the river. Since Birchpaw's taller than Mosspaw, and since Mosspaw’s swimming is basic at best, this goes significantly worse than Sedgepaw's rescue last night. Mosspaw falls in at least three times, and once Batflight has to intervene to stop the two of them from actually being swept away. As the three of them return to camp at dusk, dripping wet and weak with laughter, Mosspaw reflects that the afternoon was the most fun she's had in RiverClan.
Only the memory of her conversation with Batflight spoils her mood. Are WindClan really preparing for war again, and if so what does that mean for Mosspaw? And just what happened to the mysterious Sunclaw?
Hello, and welcome to Unintended, part of the WFF Potluck event! I'm really excited to share this story - I hope you enjoy it!
Set in the Old Forest sometime after DOTC, WindClan and RiverClan have been at war for seasons with no end in sight. When Mosspaw, a WindClan apprentice, is taken as a hostage to RiverClan, she strikes up a tentative friendship with a RiverClan apprentice, Birchpaw. But soon the time comes for Mosspaw to return to her own Clan, and the two she-cats must fight to stay together.
Unintended
[1]
The night they take her away, the sky over WindClan’s moor is wide and empty of stars.
Mosspaw sits quietly at the edge of the group of warriors, trying not to cry, as the details are discussed. Three moons, the RiverClan cats say. Mosspaw’s eight moons old now - in three moons time she’ll almost be warrior age, the whole of her first leaf-bare passed on the moor without her being there to see it. What’ll she even do while she’s in RiverClan? Will she have to learn how to swim, to fish?
Three moons, the WindClan cats agree. Three moons of peace. Three moons of no battles, no bloodshed, no deaths. Three moons’ respite from a war that has lasted seasons, and the only price an exchange of apprentices, a guarantee of their safety unless the truce is broken.
You can do that, can’t you Mosspaw?
She can’t. She doesn’t know how to say it, though, her voice strangled by the panic that’s been building up inside her since she reached for Tawnystar’s bundle of grass stems and drew out the shortest. Instead, she nods meekly, her whole mind full of the phrase three moons.
Will they keep her there so long that she forgets how to be a WindClan cat?
Mosspaw keeps her eyes fixed on the storm cloud filled sky as the RiverClan cats lead her across the moor, mostly ignoring their attempts to talk to her. The leader of the patrol introduces himself as Reedclaw, the RiverClan deputy. His Clanmate, an older she-cat with a fresh scar where her right ear should be, is called Batflight.
“I was Duckpaw’s mentor up until now,” Batflight tells Mosspaw as the three cats approach the border. Duckpaw is the apprentice that RiverClan gave up in this exchange. Mosspaw’s opposite number. “So I suppose I’m your mentor now. I’m not at all sure Troutstar knows what he’s doing with this exchange, but we’ll sort something out, I promise.”
Reedclaw says, “You’ll pick up the training in no time. Batflight mentored me, back in the day - she’s a brilliant teacher.”
“Even if you never did get your hunting crouch right,” Batflight says, turning to Mosspaw with a twinkle in her green eyes. Mosspaw doesn’t smile back.
“Will I be able to go to Gatherings?” she asks quietly.
Batflight exchanges a glance with her deputy. “I don’t see any reason why not. In fact, I’ll talk to Troutstar when we get back to camp.”
“Thanks,” Mosspaw says. This time, she does try to smile.
Batflight blinks at her sympathetically. “The other apprentices should be asleep when you get in,” the warrior says. “So you won’t need to worry about them disturbing you. There’s only two of them anyway, Birchpaw and Stonepaw.”
“Stonepaw’ll look out for you, won’t he?” Reedclaw says.
Batflight nods. “Yes, you’ll be safe with Stonepaw. Look, we’re almost at the river now,” she adds. “We’ll take the Twoleg bridge across, I think. Reedclaw, would you mind going ahead to let Troutstar know we’re coming?”
To Mosspaw’s slight surprise, the deputy obeys his warrior’s order without question. As he dives into the river and begins to swim with a fast, smooth stroke to the other side, Batflight turns to Mosspaw.
“I’ll make sure Troutstar takes you to the Gatherings, don’t worry. Is there anything else I can do?”
Let me go back to my family, Mosspaw thinks. To Batflight, she shrugs. “D-do I really have to learn how to swim?”
“I’m afraid you do,” Batflight replies. “It wouldn’t be safe to have you wandering the territory otherwise. And Mosspaw? Try to think of this as an adventure. I know it’s difficult for you right now, but what’s been decided has been decided. And after all, it’s only for three moons.”
[2]
The next morning, Mosspaw awakes to bright sunlight shining into the almost empty den.
She's overslept. Not surprising, since it was past moonhigh when the RiverClan cats finally got her settled into the apprentices' den. Apparently even RiverClan isn't mean enough to wake her up early on her first day here.
Blinking, she drags herself out of her new, mossy nest, taking in her surroundings. The RiverClan camp's noisier than WindClan, all the bustle and commotion of Clan life confined to the island rather than spread out on the moor. The river's constant churning fills any quiet moments. The den that Mosspaw's in has walls tightly woven out of dead reeds, with a few shells lodged into the weave. RiverClan scent is everywhere, of course, along with the muddy scent of the river and the pervasive smell of fish.
Mosspaw hates every detail.
Footsteps sound outside the den, loud and forceful, making Mosspaw startle. A young tabby she-cat, about Mosspaw's age, pushes her way into the den. Seeing Mosspaw there, she stops short, her amber gaze stormy.
"I forgot you were here."
Mosspaw isn't brave enough to stare down the she-cat, so settles for looking at the pattern of reed stems on the den floor. This must be one of the apprentices Batflight mentioned last night; Stonepaw, or -
"Are you Birchpaw?"
"That's me, yeah." Birchpaw doesn't seem too pleased about it. Turning away from Mosspaw, she crosses the den and plumps down into the nest across from Mosspaw, the one furthest from the den entrance.
Self-consciously, Mosspaw starts grooming the scraps of moss and reed out of her fur. Several minutes pass before she decides to break the silence. "I'm Mosspaw-"
Birchpaw cuts her off. "Yeah, I heard. Not many WindClan cats in the camp."
That figures. “Are you looking for someone?” Mosspaw asks.
“More like avoiding someone,” Birchpaw says. “Specifically, my mentor.”
“Are they… not good?”
“Eh, he’s okay. I guess. I just don’t want to train right now.”
“Fair enough,” Mosspaw says, not that she ever really skipped out on training in WindClan. She’s just relieved that Birchpaw’s no longer biting her head off. Emboldened, she asks, “So, um, what’s everyone like here?”
Birchpaw sighs. “Look,” she says, her voice tired. “Could you just get out of here? I’m not in the mood to kit-sit, alright?”
Mosspaw nods. "Um, where should I go now? Batflight and Reedclaw didn't tell me what I'm supposed to do today…”
"What am I, your mum? Go ask someone." Birchpaw's voice is muffled as she settles herself further into her nest.
Helpful, Mosspaw thinks. Cautiously, she pokes her head outside the den and emerges into a throng of RiverClan warriors. None of them pay any attention to her. She follows their gaze to the centre of the crowd, where Reedclaw is reeling off a list of names and patrols for the afternoon. Just yesterday, Mosspaw was back in WindClan's camp, listening to Breezetail assign the same patrols…
“There you are, Mosspaw.” Batflight swoops down on her, reminding Mosspaw inescapably of the warrior’s namesake. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Have you had the chance to talk to anyone yet?”
“Um,” Mosspaw hesitates. “Just one apprentice. Birchpaw?”
Batflight smiles at the look on Mosspaw’s face. “I wouldn’t worry about Birchpaw. Her bark’s worse than her bite, you’ll soon find out. Here, I’ll introduce you to Stonepaw and some of the warriors, then you can have your first swimming lesson.”
Mosspaw follows. Stonepaw turns out to be a tall, confident tom in his eleventh moon. He’s polite, even offering Mosspaw a tour of the camp - about the only good thing he has going for him.
“You must feel really lucky to come here,” he says as soon as Batwing leaves them alone. “I mean, our dens must feel like luxury to you. How’s it feel to have this much food?”
“Thanks for offering to show me around,” Mosspaw replies. “Maybe later? I - I think Batflight wants me for a swimming lesson now.”
She escapes to the riverbank, where her first swimming lesson goes about as well as she expected. It’s not like she came here to make friends. In three moons time she’ll be fighting these cats in battle.
Still, curled up in the apprentices’ den that night, Mosspaw’s loneliness, displaced by the confusion of new surroundings, comes rushing back to her. Batflight confirmed that Mosspaw can attend Gatherings, but what good will that do when there's still half a moon before Mosspaw sees her parents, her Clanmates, a friendly face? Mosspaw refuses to cry, not in front of Birchpaw and Stonepaw, but the tears escape anyway, splashing onto the moss of her unfamiliar, uncomfortable nest.
She's never felt so alone.
[3]
A quarter moon passes, and Mosspaw hates every minute of it.
She misses WindClan, more than she’d ever have expected. Her parents, her friends, her mentor, all of them continuing their lives without her. She wonders if they think the truce is worth it. She even misses the territory - stuck on RiverClan’s island until she learns to swim, Mosspaw wishes she’d never taken the quiet expanses of WindClan’s moor for granted.
Training’s a mess at first. As nobody’s sure whether teaching Mosspaw RiverClan hunting and fighting techniques is a good idea, it mostly involves swimming, which Batflight insists is a skill every cat needs to learn, even WindClan. “What would you do if someone fell into the gorge on your own territory?” the warrior asks at the start of another day of swimming lessons.
Mosspaw shrugs, keeping a wary eye on the river.
“You might be able to help out a Clanmate with this sort of knowledge, you never know. Now, Mosspaw, have another go at that stroke I showed you. You nearly had it yesterday.”
Mosspaw does not nearly have it, and both she and Batflight know that. Morosely, Mosspaw pushes off from the riverbank and wades out into the shallows, shivering as the icy water reaches her belly, then her chest. Batflight plunges in after her, supporting Mosspaw as she tries again and again to keep herself afloat. The sun inches across the glacial blue sky, halfway to sunhigh already, and Mosspaw’s swimming is still about as useful for keeping her afloat as a solid chunk of rock.
Batflight’s doing her best not to show her frustration, but her instructions have definitely become terser since the start of the lesson, her glances up at the sun more frequent. “You keep curling up, Mosspaw! Just relax. Of course you’re going to sink like a stone if you’re shaped like one.”
“I just don’t understand how,” Mosspaw says.
“I’ve told you how,” Batflight says. “Stay relaxed, stay horizontal, stay afloat. It’s not as hard as you’re making it.”
“It is hard for me,” Mosspaw says, all her frustration rising in her voice. “I’m just not cut out for swimming, okay?”
Batflight’s silent, like Mosspaw just slapped her. It’s probably the first time Mosspaw’s snapped since she got to RiverClan. Then Batflight’s expression clears into something more like sympathy.
“Sorry, Mosspaw. I get that you’re finding this hard, although honestly I think this is just a block you need to get through. How about we leave training for the morning?”
Mosspaw nods, feeling tears pressing at the corners of her eyes.
“I’ll meet you back at camp after sunhigh, then,” Batflight says. With a smooth, fast stroke, she sets off swimming in the direction of the shore. Mosspaw wades slowly back to the riverbank. The place Batflight chose for their lessons is a secluded backwater at the very tip of RiverClan’s island, too shallow for fishing and screened from the camp by the drooping, frosted branches of a weeping willow tree. If Mosspaw ignores the hum of voices coming from the camp, she can almost pretend she’s somewhere else entirely, somewhere closer to home.
One quarter moon down. Eleven quarter moons to go.
It’s then that Mosspaw realises that she isn’t alone. Sitting in the hollow made by the snaking, twisted willow roots and apparently engrossed in watching the river is Birchpaw, her tabby fur camouflaging her against the greys and browns of the riverbank. Pushing aside the temptation to ask why in StarClan Birchpaw was watching the lesson, Mosspaw sighs and begins the climb up towards the camp. Maybe the apprentices’ den will be empty instead.
“Wait,” Birchpaw says, and Mosspaw turns. “You can stay here with me. Join the I Hate RiverClan support group.”
Mosspaw narrows her eyes at Birchpaw, waiting for the punchline. Other than the odd greeting, the two apprentices haven’t spoken since Mosspaw’s first day. She doesn’t see why they’d start now.
As Mosspaw hesitates, Birchpaw pats the space next to her with a front paw. “You’ve got a free morning, don’t go back to camp.” And then, “Look, I don’t bite, okay?”
“Why are you being friendly now?” Mosspaw blurts.
“‘Cause I’m a nice cat deep down,” Birchpaw deadpans. “I’m sorry I was rude to you the other day. I was in a bad mood.”
“I kind of guessed,” Mosspaw says.
Birchpaw half-smiles. “Sorry. The only good thing about being me is that I don’t have to deal with me.”
“I dunno,” Mosspaw says. “You’re being nice right now.”
“Flatterer,” Birchpaw says, then looks away. “For StarClan’s sake, Mosspaw, sit down. You’re making me nervous with that hovering.”
Mosspaw sits. The two she-cats are quiet for a few minutes, both gazing out over the river. With the cold weather, a mist has risen over its waters, softening the horizon into a distant grey blur. Somewhere upstream is the gorge, and WindClan territory, but for once Mosspaw doesn’t try to look for it.
“So,” Birchpaw asks. “How about that support group?”
[4]
“Hey, it’s Mosspaw!”
“Mosspaw, how’re you doing? Those RiverClan cats better be treating you well.”
“We’ve all missed having you around camp, you know.”
Another quarter moon later, and it’s the Gathering night at last. Mosspaw tags along at the back of Troutstar’s patrol, excitement fizzing in her stomach at her first trip off RiverClan’s island in half a moon. The WindClan and RiverClan patrols meet just outside Fourtrees, and after the initial rush of everyone trying to talk to her at once, Mosspaw finds herself standing between her parents, pressed close to both of them like she’s a kit again. Everyone’s eager to tell her the latest news, ask her how she’s been. After half a moon, it’s such a relief to feel like she belongs somewhere again.
“We’ve missed you so much,” her father, Dustfang, tells her, green eyes warm and loving. “But we’re so proud of you.”
“Only two and a half more moons of this nonsense,” her mother, Leafglide, growls.
The main gossip at the Gathering is WindClan’s and RiverClan’s truce. Both Troutstar and Tawnystar report a prosperous moon for their Clans: more prey, less injuries, all the benefits of peacetime. Troutstar jokes that his medicine cat, Meadowpelt, has spent half the moon asleep, there’s so little need for her. ThunderClan’s and ShadowClan’s leaders express their relief that the other two Clans have finally found common ground.
Her parents’ eyes meet above Mosspaw’s head, and they smile down at her. Something uneasy shifts in Mosspaw’s chest; she looks away, across the bustling clearing, until her gaze catches on the one cat who doesn’t seem to be enjoying the Gathering.
She’s spoken to Birchpaw a few more times since the day by the willow tree. Mostly in passing - Birchpaw always seems to be in the apprentices’ den or lurking around the training areas, rarely in training like she’s supposed to be. Mosspaw’s not even sure who her mentor is.
Birchpaw always has a greeting for Mosspaw, though, which is more than a lot of RiverClan can manage even after half a moon.
Now, Birchpaw’s hovering at the edge of the main RiverClan group. She seems unsure where to go - her Clanmate Stonepaw has already joined a group of ShadowClan apprentices, while Mosspaw’s counterpart Duckpaw is talking earnestly to Batflight. Her expression is downcast, and she isn’t joining in any of the cheering.
“Is that someone you’re friends with?” Mosspaw’s mother asks. Mosspaw jumps and tears her gaze away, realising she’s been staring.
“I guess,” she mumbles. “I mean, we talk a bit.”
Mosspaw’s parents exchange another, more complicated glance. “There’s no harm in talking,” her father says.
Leafglide sighs. “I suppose not. Isn’t she Sunclaw’s old apprentice?”
“He was a good warrior,” Dustfang reflects. “I’m surprised his apprentice isn’t the talk of the Clans.”
Mosspaw starts to form the word Was? but thinks better of it. There’s no cat in RiverClan called Sunclaw that she knows of. She files the name away in a list of questions to ask Birchpaw, or Batflight, or no-one.
Her mother swiftly changes the subject back to the latest spat between the tunnellers and the moor runners, and Mosspaw pushes Birchpaw's past to the back of her mind. She only has tonight, and she wants to see everyone from WindClan that she can manage, to soak up as much of her birth Clan as she possibly can.
[5]
Less than a moon into the exchange, and the nights are rapidly drawing in. Short, grey days give way to indecisive twilights only a few hours after the return of the noon patrols, and the RiverClan cats retreat to the island earlier each night to avoid the thick, blinding fog that rises over the river. Batflight restricts Mosspaw's swimming lessons to warmer days and starts her on fishing. Everything in camp is damp and cold - the dens, the nests, Mosspaw’s moor-soft fur.
The long nights and slack schedule also make it ridiculously easy for apprentices to sneak out of camp, which Birchpaw takes full advantage of.
“Where do you go?” Mosspaw asks one night, when Birchpaw slips into the apprentices’ den just before dawn. “You’re not swimming, are you? The river must be freezing.”
In answer, Birchpaw shakes out her pelt, scattering droplets to the den floor. “I keep to the shallows. It’s fun. Burns off energy.”
You’d burn off that energy if you just went to training, Mosspaw thinks, edging away from Birchpaw’s spray of water. It's ice-cold; surely even a RiverClan cat can't tolerate these temperatures for long.
Birchpaw continues, “You could come out with me some night, if you want.”
“Really?” Mosspaw asks skeptically. “And break how many rules?”
“What’s the worst they could do, send you back to RiverClan?”
Sometimes being with Birchpaw feels like a test, like Mosspaw has to prove she’s bold enough to be worthy of her attention. “Fine,” she says, before the rest of her brain can stop her.
Even in the darkness, Birchpaw’s voice makes her surprise clear. “Fine?”
“I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
“Promise?” Birchpaw says. She settles down into her nest in between Mosspaw and Stonepaw, who’s still snoring peacefully. “I’ll wake you up, then. Not that you seem to need it.”
“You’re not getting me to swim, though,” Mosspaw says, and she thinks she hears Birchpaw snicker.
Birchpaw’s right about one thing - there’s no waking up of Mosspaw the next night. Ever since she came to RiverClan, and especially since the nights started drawing in and Batflight eased off on the swimming lessons, Mosspaw’s found it hard to sleep. It’s no trouble at all for her to lie in her nest for an hour or so as the activity in the camp dies down, staring at the stars through a crack in the woven roof and wondering what the night ahead will bring. She’s less nervous than she thought. Maybe it’s Birchpaw's confidence that nothing will go wrong - or maybe it’s the hope she ignited with the words send you back to RiverClan.
Either way, when Birchpaw prods her, Mosspaw rolls out of her nest without hesitation and follows the older apprentice down to the riverbank. The river’s been on the rise for a few days now, its choppy waters swallowing more and more of the straggling grass at the island’s edge, whipped into peaks and troughs by the icy breeze. Thanks to the fog and the ragged clouds that are drifting over the crescent moon, Mosspaw can’t see more than a few fox-lengths offshore.
“You’re going swimming in this?”
Birchpaw doesn’t even hesitate. “Course I am. You joining me?”
“You’re joking,” Mosspaw says, but she hears her voice waver. What’ll she do if Birchpaw wades into the water and gets swept away? Mosspaw’s probably the worst swimmer on this island, and as for asking for help, she doesn’t know if she’s more scared of the senior warriors or Birchpaw. “You - you don’t need to impress me.”
“Yeah, ‘cause impressing you is what I’m worried about,” Birchpaw says, but she doesn’t move any closer to the water. Instead, she settles herself down a tail length from its edge.
Relieved, Mosspaw sits down beside her, shifting to get comfortable on the wet, uneven ground. Her fur’s going to be even wetter and muddier than usual after this, but she tries to push the thought out of her mind. For a moment, the only sound is the splashing of the river and the hiss of the wind through the willow branches above them. Birchpaw turns to Mosspaw, mouth open as if she’s about to speak, but closes it as another voice floats down to them from upriver, its tone young, high and desperate. Both she-cats turn towards the sound.
“Help! I can’t swim, can somebody please help me?”
[6]
To both of their surprise, Mosspaw’s the one who reacts first. The moment she hears the voice she jumps up, scanning the foggy darkness with desperate eyes. “Where’s that coming from? We need to do something.”
“I don’t know,” Birchpaw says, scrambling to her paws. “In this fog, it could be coming from anywhere.”
“We should go back to camp,” Mosspaw says. Two apprentices - one with less than a moon of swimming lessons - don’t make for the most promising rescue team. “If we wake up Batflight or someone…”
Birchpaw shakes her head. “No time, they’ll all be fast asleep.”
“Then what do we do? Can you swim in and look for them?”
“Not with the river like this,” Birchpaw blurts.
“We literally came out here so you could go swimming!”
Birchpaw sighs. “Mosspaw, I may have been messing with you about going swimming. I fell in last night, okay, and it seemed like a fun joke to pretend it was on purpose.”
“Brilliant,” Mosspaw mutters, although honestly, she’s mostly mad she didn’t see this coming. Night swimming in this weather - yeah right. “Let’s all tease the WindClan cat. So now what?”
To her credit, Birchpaw doesn’t try and apologise. “Um, we go to the bottom of the island, I guess. And hope we spot this cat as they go past.”
They run. Mosspaw, at this point just as familiar with RiverClan’s island as Birchpaw is, takes the lead, heading for the backwater where she and Birchpaw had their first conversation. Even in full daylight, the area is an obstacle course of loose pebbles, twisted willow roots, and debris washed up in previous leaf-bares’ floods. At night, and with the swollen river bubbling between the willow roots, it’s downright treacherous.
As Mosspaw and Birchpaw stumble and splash their way to the riverbank, the shouting redoubles. “Please, somebody!”
“We’re coming,” Birchpaw yells, the fog making her voice echoey and strange.
Mosspaw adds, “Tell us where you are.”
“I’m near the island,” the voice shouts back, not entirely helpfully. Then it adds, sounding surprised but relieved, “Hey, I think I’ve stopped.”
Relief rushes through Mosspaw, making her legs weak. She squints into the darkness and sees a small, pale-furred figure clinging to a dangling willow branch. If the cat hadn’t managed to grab onto the branch when they did, they’d have been swept right past the island and out of RiverClan territory.
She nudges Birchpaw, who nods impatiently and calls out, “Keep holding on.”
“No fear!”
Birchpaw turns to Mosspaw. “See that root there? I think we can follow it out to where they are. You first.”
“Me first?”
“So I can see if you fall off.”
Gingerly, Mosspaw places one paw on the wide, gnarled willow root, then another. Part of her wonders if this is just another trick, but she pushes the thought to the back of her mind. Even Birchpaw wouldn’t risk messing up something this important - right? Sinking her claws into the soft, waterlogged wood with every pawstep and glancing back at Birchpaw with every other one, she inches her way along the root.
“Okay, stop now,” Birchpaw orders, and dives into the water, splashing Mosspaw as she does so. She swims towards the cat with the swift, elegant stroke of a true RiverClan cat, and murmurs something to him that Mosspaw can’t catch; a moment later she swims back to Mosspaw, the other cat now balanced perilously on her narrow back.
“Help him up,” she tells Mosspaw, her breath coming in gasps.
Mosspaw sinks her teeth into the strange cat’s scruff and heaves him off Birchpaw and onto the willow root, where he clings on tightly, shivering so violently that his whole body shakes. It’s only now she’s so close to him that Mosspaw smells the WindClan scent on his sodden pelt, and recognises who he is.
“Sedgekit! What happened to you?”
“Sedgepaw,” he corrects. Mosspaw remembers Tawneystar’s announcement of new apprentices at the Gathering. “I w-was on night patrol, and I f-fell over the edge of the g-g-gorge.”
With the last words, he sounds like he’s about to cry. Mosspaw doesn’t blame him. Hurriedly, she guides him back along the root to solid ground. She’s so relieved to get him there that she stumbles on the last step, falling backwards into the water. The icy river soaks her fur in an instant, but before the current can drag her beyond the island she feels a warm presence beside her, guiding her back to the shore.
“I’ve got you,” says Birchpaw. Mosspaw clings onto her, and together the two she-cats swim back to shore, collapsing in a heap as soon as they reach more-or-less solid ground. Exhausted from their rescue attempt, neither of them wants to leave the safety of the other.
They’re still like that when the RiverClan cats arrive.
[7]
Much to her disappointment, they don’t send Mosspaw back to WindClan.
What Batflight does do is give Mosspaw a long, comprehensive telling-off, beginning with how foolish it was to sneak out, continuing through how reckless it was to try and rescue Sedgepaw on their own, and finishing with a general recap of the dangers associated with night-time, the river, and flooding. Then she praises Mosspaw’s bravery for going ahead with the rescue anyway, and promises that their next swimming lesson will include livesaving.
Mosspaw’s not sure if the last part is a reward or a punishment, honestly.
They don’t send Mosspaw back to WindClan, but she is allowed to help Batflight escort Sedgepaw back home later that morning, once Meadowpelt has checked over all three apprentices and pronounced them healthy. Probably just as a witness that RiverClan hadn’t tried to kidnap Sedgepaw, but still. Anticipation fizzes in her veins as the patrol climbs out of RiverClan's lush fields towards the uplands - and is heightened even further when her father and his fellow warrior Skygaze meet them at the border.
"State your purpose, tresspassers-" Dustfang begins, and stops as he sees the two WindClan apprentices in the group. "Sedgepaw, we were looking for you! And Mosspaw! What are you doing here?"
"Your daughter's a hero," Batflight says, stepping forward. Mosspaw’s not surprised she recognises him; if there's a cat in the Clans that Batflight doesn't know, Mosspaw’s yet to hear of them. "She rescued Sedgepaw from the river last night. RiverClan apologies for the delay in returning your apprentice, but Meadowpelt insisted that he needed to rest."
"I'm just grateful to have Sedgepaw back," Mosspaw’s father says. "Mosspaw, that's amazing! You're beginning to take to the river, then?"
Mosspaw wrinkles her nose. "No chance."
"Mosspaw’s making real progress in her swimming lessons," Batflight says, to Mosspaw’s surprise and embarrassment. "Maybe she'll be able to teach the rest of you when she gets back home."
"Maybe," Dustfang says. He and Batflight exchange tight, polite smiles. It's strange seeing them together. "How did you find Sedgepaw?"
Batflight explains, while Mosspaw's father draws Mosspaw close to him with his long tail, ruffling her fur like when she was a kit. She leans into his familiar touch. Except for, well, for that moment with Birchpaw last night, she hasn't been this close to another cat in what seems like a long time.
"Thanks for your help," Skygaze says, with a flick of her ears. "There's no need for you to journey further, though - we can take Sedgepaw home from here."
Batflight's eyes narrow. "Don't you want us to explain to Tawnystar what happened?"
Dustfang smiles awkwardly. "We can pass on the story ourselves."
"How considerate," Batflight says. "Fine, Mosspaw, time to head back. Let's see if we can't find someone for you to rescue before it gets dark."
Without further ado, she turns around and marches back across the border. Mosspaw's father releases her, but doesn't move away. She doesn't have to leave, Mosspaw thinks. If she stayed here, refused to go back with Batflight, maybe they'd take her back to camp. Maybe Batflight could take Sedgepaw to RiverClan instead.
Maybe, if Mosspaw had taken advantage of RiverClan's lax security to sneak back to the moor last night instead of join Birchpaw's ridiculous swimming expedition, she'd already be home.
Mosspaw sighs, and steps away from her father. Maybe it's a cowardly choice she's making, maybe it's brave - she doesn't know anymore. "Bye, Dad."
"See you at the Gathering," he replies. "We miss you!"
"Me too," Mosspaw says, and with one last glance over her shoulder, she treks after Batflight.
[8]
By the time they get back to the island the rain's started up again, so Mosspaw spends the rest of the daylight huddled on the riverbank as Batflight explains basic lifesaving. The rain's coming down in cold, drenching sheets, making the dry land almost indistinguishable from the river. Despite her usual precision, Batflight keeps repeating sentences and letting her gaze stray upstream towards WindClan territory. Mosspaw guesses she's thinking about the meeting at the border.
"What happened?" she asks, when Batflight pauses her instructions. "Back this morning, with Skygaze?"
"Oh, that," Batflight says. "An overreaction, that's all, on both sides. They didn't want me seeing your camp."
Mosspaw frowns. "But you were there last moon."
"Tawnystar's been ramping up her defences, then," Batflight says. "The paranoid fool, no offence to your leader. What's the point of messing you apprentices around if we can't even act like we're at peace?"
"Do - do you think Tawnystar's going to break the truce?"
Batflight shakes her head. "I think she'll keep the peace until you and Duckpaw are back where you belong. But after that... It's a crying shame that cats don't see the value of peace anymore."
Anymore, Mosspaw thinks. "Do you remember when the wars started?"
"I remember long before that," Batflight said. "WindClan and RiverClan used to be allies, you know. Fought together against some rogues that were giving us trouble."
"Really? When was that?"
"A long time ago," Batflight says, her gaze wandering up the river again. "Anyway, Mosspaw, you've avoided getting in the river long enough. In you go, four fox-lengths down the shore and back and then you can show me if you were listening."
Mosspaw wasn't actually trying to play for time, but all that talk of the war has reminded her of something else she wants to ask. "Batflight, did you ever know a cat called Sunclaw? My parents were talking about him at the Gathering."
Batflight's expression, dour at the best of times, is downright stony. "Mosspaw, water. Now. Don't push me."
"Sorry-" Mosspaw starts, but breaks off as both she-cats turn their heads towards a crashing sound in the undergrowth. Birchpaw, attending a training session for possibly the first time since Mosspaw came to RiverClan.
"Hey, Batflight," Birchpaw says. Mosspaw hopes desperately that the other apprentice didn't overhear her question about Sunclaw. "Reedclaw sent me over, said you needed someone for Mosspaw to haul out the river."
"He did?" Batflight asks. She takes a moment to rearrange her expression from surprised to mentorly, then adds, "Very well. Mosspaw was about to swim along the shore and back - I suggest you do the same, then we can start."
"Fine by me," Birchpaw says. Maybe she wasn't entirely lying when she said she liked swimming. As Mosspaw hesitates on the shore, Birchpaw dives into the water and swims a tail-length along the shoreline. She turns to grin at Mosspaw. "Looks like we're going swimming together after all."
Mosspaw rolls her eyes and steps into the river, which honestly is slightly warmer than standing in the rain, and struggles through the four fox-lengths of doggy-paddle before she has to cling to the riverbank again. Birchpaw swims effortlessly to meet her.
"Seems like you're the one who ought to be rescuing me," Mosspaw says. "Sorry you got dragged into this. Batflight's in a bit of a mood."
"You're telling me," Birchpaw says. "But don't worry, I volunteered for this. Since you judge me for skipping training."
"I don't judge you," Mosspaw protests. Sure, Birchpaw's in a good mood today, but she doesn't want to push it.
"You're polite about it," Birchpaw says. "But yeah, you do. But our bonding experience has made me into a better cat now."
Mosspaw rolls her eyes again. "Sure it did."
Batflight clears her throat from the riverbank. "Mosspaw, I'm glad you've made a friend but this is not the time."
The two apprentices swim back to Batflight, who directs Mosspaw in "rescuing" Birchpaw from the river. Since Birchpaw's taller than Mosspaw, and since Mosspaw’s swimming is basic at best, this goes significantly worse than Sedgepaw's rescue last night. Mosspaw falls in at least three times, and once Batflight has to intervene to stop the two of them from actually being swept away. As the three of them return to camp at dusk, dripping wet and weak with laughter, Mosspaw reflects that the afternoon was the most fun she's had in RiverClan.
Only the memory of her conversation with Batflight spoils her mood. Are WindClan really preparing for war again, and if so what does that mean for Mosspaw? And just what happened to the mysterious Sunclaw?