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Post by SmugGull on May 11, 2019 10:12:44 GMT -5
Ah thank you! I had some difficulty writing the second part so I was hoping that it would turn out okay.
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Post by scint on May 11, 2019 10:51:09 GMT -5
Ahh I really liked this chapter! I'm loving the dynamics between Firepaw, Graypaw, Dustpaw, and Ravenpaw so far, and I'm thinking that Firepaw might try to seek out Yellowfang or warn WindClan, probably the former.
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Post by phantomstar57 on May 11, 2019 22:09:49 GMT -5
Seek out Yellowfang, who as a medicine cat, may indeed believe him.
Great chapter b the way. I am enjoying this very much!
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Post by SmugGull on May 11, 2019 22:54:09 GMT -5
AHhh thank you both! I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
Looking for Yellowfang seems to be a popular decision - might be fun to see how that plays out. I'll be leaving the poll up for the rest of the weekend, but then I need to start writing the next chapter.
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Post by SmugGull on May 17, 2019 22:24:05 GMT -5
CHAPTER FIVE
“You’re absolutely useless,” Firestar snapped, pacing in front of an increasingly irritated Pinestar. “You didn’t know about Redtail and Tigerclaw, you can only give advice that an apprentice could figure out –”
“Even though you didn’t, the first time around,” Pinestar pointed out tartly.
“– and,” Firestar added, glaring at Pinestar, “most egregiously, you dragged me back here after I finally, finally –”
His voice broke and he looked away, staring into the darkness of the trees at the edge of Pinestar’s clearing.
When Pinestar spoke, his voice was cool. “Tigerstar’s death may have ended the threat of the Dark Forest, but the trust that holds the clans together was shattered. I lived eight of my lives in service to ThunderClan, and I will not see it fall to infighting and mistrust – not while I have the power to save it.”
“You don’t have the power,” Firestar snapped, wheeling back around to face Pinestar. “You spent eight lives in ThunderClan? I spent nine – and you dragged me back here to – what, fix your mistakes? Act as your vanguard? Your puppet?”
Pinestar’s expression hardened. “My puppet?” he snapped. “Don’t embarrass yourself, Firestar –”
“You’re doing a fine job of that without my help,” Firestar hissed.
The dream faded. Pinestar’s furious face lingered behind Firestar’s closed eyes.
~~ The morning brought suspicious looks from Tigerclaw, undisguised irritation from Redtail, and bemusement from Lionheart as Firepaw’s mentorship was one again shuffled over to the golden tabby warrior.
“How did it go?” Greypaw hissed on their way to the training hollow.
Firepaw mrrowed uncertainly. “Dustpaw and Ravenpaw believe me,” he murmured back. “We have...sort of a plan. I’ll tell you after training,” he promised.
“Um.” Greypaw blinked. “Okay? Is everything –”
“It’s fine,” Firepaw said automatically.
Everything was going to be fine.
There was a chill to his fur that he hadn’t been able to shake since he’d woken up, and the ever-growing knot of anxiety and – increasingly – anger in his stomach was ballooning so rapidly that Firepaw couldn’t be sure he could make it through the day without collapsing or exploding or bursting into tears –
But everything was fine.
“Firepaw?”
Firepaw jumped, realizing that they’d come to a halt and that Lionheart had been speaking for – how long? Long enough to ask a question, apparently.
“Um,” he managed, “what?”
The rest of the lesson went much the same. All of Firepaw’s focus had evaporated in the morning sunlight, leaving him twitchy and off-kilter. He only managed not to completely fumble Lionheart’s hunting lesson because he’d done it so many times before.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Lionheart asked, after Firepaw let the second squirrel escape in the space of half an hour.
“I’m fine.” Firepaw just managed to avoid snapping at the senior warrior.
He missed Greystripe – the one he’d left behind at the lake, not the apprentice from his first days in ThunderClan – and his gentle, reassuring presence. He missed Sandstorm, so badly it hurt – but she wasn’t here.
Not really.
~~ Firepaw had managed to finish feeding the elders without having to speak to Dustpaw and was about to forego the fresh-kill pile in favor of ending the day early and hoping tomorrow would be better when Greypaw bodily dragged him out of camp by the scruff of his neck.
Firepaw twisted out of his grip with a hiss. “What in StarClan’s name –”
“You’ve been jumpier than a mouse in a fox den all day,” Greypaw told him, padding in the direction of Fourtrees. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s –”
“If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to sit on you,” Greypaw warned. “You’ve been saying it all day and it hasn’t gotten any truer.” He hummed. “Actually, I think it’s gotten less true.”
Firepaw sighed, increasingly his stride to walk beside the other apprentice. “I – Greypaw, look –”
Greypaw butted his head against Firepaw’s shoulder. “I know I’m not the same Greypaw – or, Greystripe, I guess – that you knew from the future.” He wrinkled his nose. “That’s such a weird sentence. But it’s like you said – I’m always your best friend. So, you can tell me anything.”
Firepaw looked down at his paws – oversized and kit-like, with tufts of fur sticking out at untamable angles. “I shouldn’t have to confide in an apprentice,” he muttered. “I’m ninety moons older than you. I’ve been leading ThunderClan for – I can’t even figure out how many seasons.”
“Yeah, and you just had the ground pulled out from underneath your feet,” Greypaw pointed out. “You’ve trusted me this far, right?”
Firepaw took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed himself against Greypaw, burying his face in his friend’s broad shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Then he paused. “I think.”
“No, you should be,” Greypaw agreed. “I think. Actually, it doesn’t matter. What’s wrong? Is it Tigerclaw? I bet it’s weird seeing him again, after everything he’s done – or will do, I guess...”
Firepaw huffed. That was as good a place to start as any. “A little,” he confessed. “He’s just... been the villain we scare our kits with for so long, and now he’s a respected member of the clan again.”
“That is weird,” Greypaw mused. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, honestly. Everyone looks up to him, the idea of him killing anyone in ThunderClan is just so... weird.”
Firepaw tensed. “You said you believed me,” he said, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice.
“I do,” Greypaw assured him. “You’re a very believable cat. It’s just weird.” He leaned back against Firepaw. “That’s not the only thing that’s bugging you though, right? I mean, that’s been a thing ever since you showed up.”
Firepaw was silent for a long moment, wondering if he ought to tell Greypaw about –
You’ve trusted me this far, right?
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I, um. Did I ever tell you about Pinestar?”
“Pinestar?” Greypaw repeated. “He left the clan to be a kittypet when he was on his last life.”
“Of course he did,” Firepaw muttered. Curiosity, piqued, he asked, “What else do you know about him?”
The cold chill increased. Firepaw ignored it.
“Um, well, he’s Tigerclaw’s father – left the clan when Tigerclaw was just a kit, according to the elders –”
“He –” Firepaw’s breath caught in his throat. “He’s what?”
Greypaw faltered. “You... you didn’t know that either, did you.”
“I’m – no, I didn’t.” Firepaw’s ears pinned against his head. “I’m going to kill him – bringing me back to fix his own son’s mistakes –”
“Pinestar brought you back?”
“Of course he did,” Firepaw bit out.
Something akin to understanding dawned in Greypaw’s face. “Firepaw...have you been running on anger this whole time?”
~~ Greypaw dragged Firepaw back to camp less bodily than he’d dragged him away. Firepaw trailed along behind him, carrying a scrawny pair of mice that had just about tripped over his paws. He dropped them on the fresh-kill pile and allowed Greypaw to herd him towards the medicine den with only minimal protesting.
Spottedleaf looked up as they entered. “Did one of you step on a thorn while you were out hunting?” she asked, amusement in her voice.
“Nope,” Greypaw said cheerfully. “Just making sure this one doesn’t sneak off without coming to see you.”
Firepaw huffed. “Greypaw –”
“You absolutely would, don’t bothering denying it.” Greypaw waved his tail as he headed back into camp. “Don’t forget to use your words!”
Firepaw sighed. “You are a terrible friend.”
“No, I’m not!”
Spottedleaf purred in amusement and sat down, curling her tail around her paws neatly. “So, what brings you here?” She tilted her head. “Are your injuries from Sunningrocks bothering you?”
Firepaw shook his head. “No – no, nothing like that.” He struggled for a moment to find the right words. “I, er...well, I told Greypaw I was having some trouble adjusting, and he suggested that I talk to you.”
Spottedleaf blinked. “Did he? Well, I suppose medicine cats often fill the role of advisors as well.” She gestured to the herb stores. “Why don’t you help me sort out the herbs that have gone bad, and we can talk?”
Firepaw nodded.
Spottedleaf waved him over, showing him what to do and how to sort out the good herbs from the stale herbs from the bad herbs. Firepaw let himself fall into the rhythm of sorting as he and Spottedleaf talked. He told her what he could – about strange dreams and a cat named Pinestar, about the crawling sense of foreboding whenever he looked at Tigerclaw, about the way the world seemed to warp around Redtail like he wasn’t supposed to be there.
Spottedleaf listened, offering the occasional comment or piece of advice. She grew quieter as quieter as Firepaw spoke, never taking her eyes off of him.
“How long have you been dreaming of Pinestar?” she asked, carefully plucking a juniper branch clean of berries.
Firepaw paused in his sorting of the marigold, considering. “I think...” he started slowly, “I think they started the first night I spent in the clan.” He glanced up at Spottedleaf. “Is it true that he was Tigerclaw’s father?”
Spottedleaf nodded. “Did he tell you?”
“Greypaw mentioned it.” Firepaw growled in frustration. “Why do I always end up fixing other cats’ mistakes –”
“How do you mean?” Spottedleaf asked.
Mouse-dung. “When I was with BloodClan,” he started, “we had a – a leader, for our small group. She was brilliant, at first, but... her mind started to go, and she made some bad choices. And I was the one who had to run damage control.” He swept a few rotted petals aside. “Then we had to leave our homes, and when we thought we’d finally found somewhere to live all the old problems started up again.”
He sighed. “I know that fixing the problems of others is what a leader is supposed to do,” he began. “And I will never regret being their leader. But I thought – I thought that was all over, and now I’m here. In ThunderClan, with...all these cats –” All these cats I know, all these cats I watched die, “– and with these dreams, it feels like I’m supposed to lead again. But I mean – well, look at me.” He purred in amusement. “I’m barely an apprentice. How am I supposed to lead anyone with kitten fluff sticking out of my ears?”
“You don’t have to,” Spottedleaf assured him, touching his flank with her tail. “You’re a part of ThunderClan now. We take care of our own.” She tilted her head. “Incidentally, have you considered speaking to Bluestar about these dreams of Pinestar?”
“No!” Firepaw blurted. “No, she can’t know.”
Spottedleaf sighed. “Firepaw, she’s our leader. If something’s threatening the clan –”
“I need you to trust me,” Firepaw said softly, looking into Spottedleaf’s eyes. “I know I’m new to the clan. I know you don’t know me – but please, trust me when I say that these dreams aren’t something Bluestar should know.”
Slowly, Spottedleaf nodded. “I’ll keep your secret, Firepaw,” she meowed. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You tell me about any other dreams you have.” Spottedleaf tilted her head up. “Any at all.”
~~ A quarter moon passed.
An uneasy truce seemed to have settled between Firepaw and the warriors of ThunderClan. Tigerclaw was still pretending he didn’t exist and Redtail was just short of cordial, but their duties (and a timely intervention from Dustpaw) kept them from traipsing off into the woods together. Lionheart, with some help from Whitestorm, was responsible for most of Firepaw’s training, but no mentor was assigned (as Firepaw recalled, it had taken two moons before he’d been given a mentor – he didn’t see why that should change now).
There had been no word from Pinestar, just an omnipresent chill that Firepaw could never shake and endless dreams of an empty glade with a dried-up pool.
“Perhaps he thought you were being selfish,” Spottedleaf suggested. Today’s chores had seen Firepaw helping her gather yarrow.
“I’m selfish?” Firepaw said incredulously. “He’s the one who abandoned ThunderClan when they needed him.” Not to mention his son. He couldn’t fathom leaving one of your children behind. Yes, Squirrelflight had driven him half out of his mind when she was a kit and had only gotten worse as an apprentice – and then there was the whole debacle with Leafpool and her kits (with Crowfeather of all cats). Even Cloudtail, who was the closest thing he had to a son, had been absolutely insufferable as an apprentice. But he had never even considered just... leaving them.
They were family.
Spottedleaf hummed. “You know, I once heard it said – it was by Whitestorm, I believe – that cats are often least tolerant of flaws in others that they themselves have.”
It took Firepaw a moment to untangle that, but he nodded. “Maybe that’s it,” he murmured. “So, you think he’s... what, extra sensitive to other cats being selfish?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Spottedleaf admitted. “You mentioned that he wants you to – how did you put it – fix his mistakes. Perhaps he regards leaving as one of those mistakes.”
“He should,” Firepaw muttered.
A warm breeze wafted across the clearing, lifting some of the chill from Firepaw’s shoulders.
~~ That night, Firestar woke up at the outskirts of Pinestar’s clearing. There was water in the pool again and the skies were clear, but there was no Pinestar in sight. Instead, there was a plump, soft-furred kittypet, a ginger tom with green eyes exactly three shades lighter than Squirrelflight’s.
Firestar’s hackles prickled, but there was something about this cat... “Who are you?”
The tom’s face lit up. “Rusty!” he yowled, bounding forward.
Firestar took a step back and the tom skidded to a halt. “That’s not your name,” he said. “And while we’re at it, it’s not mine either, so would you like to try that again?”
It was comical, really, how quickly the tom’s face fell. “You don’t... remember me?” He took a step back. “I guess you wouldn’t,” he murmured. Then he looked up, locking eyes with Firestar. “My name is Jake,” he said quietly. “I’m your father.”
Firestar stared. His...father?
“I don’t have a father,” he said, then cringed as he realized how stupid that sounded. Of course he had a father - cats didn't spring out of the ground like weeds. It was just that they’d never met.
Jake bowed his head. “I died not long after you were born,” he admitted. “Wandered too close to the Thunderpath.” He offered a small smile. “I knew Pine – Pinestar, I guess, to you. We were kittypets together. He introduced me and your mother, actually.” His head tilted. “Do you... remember her at all?”
“Only a little.” Firestar circled around the edge of the clearing until he was standing not far from the pool. “Why are you here?”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Jake said, “but Pine isn’t very good at showing emotions. Especially when admitting he’s made a mistake – I think you’ve noticed, but he has a habit of running away from his problems.”
“I noticed,” Firestar muttered.
“He’s not a bad cat,” Jake said earnestly. “He’s made some mistakes, but he has his clan’s best interests at heart.” Jake’s eyes softened. “He’s a lot like Tallstar in that regard.”
“Tallstar never abandoned his clan,” Firestar snapped.
“He did, actually,” Jake said. “That’s how we met. But he went back to his clan, just like Pine’s trying to do now. Except, you know, he’s dead. So he can’t really go back.”
“And now he’s living vicariously through me, I suppose.” Firestar sighed, not bothering to question the fact that his father had known Tallstar. “Look, I’m grateful for the opportunity to change things, to make them better. But I’m – I’m exhausted.” His voice broke on the last word.
His life had been dictated by prophecy after prophecy, and as the cracks in this new life began to form, the momentum that had carried him forward into this new life was crumbling beneath his paws and revealing only a dark, yawning chasm beneath. He knew too much and not enough and –
“Hey.”
Firestar jumped as Jake laid his tail across Firestar’s flank.
“It’s okay,” Jake said quietly. “I know this is all a lot to deal with. Especially since your first instinct is to keep secrets,” he added. “Now, I don’t know what Pinestar has planned, or what happened the first time around, but try to relax. At least until the next Gathering. There’s not much to be done until then, as I understand it.”
“I should find Yellowfang, at least,” Firestar argued weakly.
“She’s not even exiled yet,” Jake meowed.
Firestar was on a roll. “And what about Tigerclaw? I can’t just sit back and hope he doesn’t murder anyone –”
“Dustpaw’s looking out for him, remember?” Jake told him. “You have to put your faith in someone.”
“Dustpaw’s an apprentice.”
“A highly motivated apprentice,” Jake pointed out. “I’m not saying don’t do anything, but if you don’t take a moment to sit down, breathe, and work out all the knots you’ve tied yourself into, you’re not going to do anyone any good.”
“I –”
“You have to listen to me, I’m your dad.”
Firestar glanced at him. “So?”
Jake mrrowed in amusement. “You sound like Tallstar,” he said wistfully.
Tallstar. Firestar’s ears twitched. “Can you speak to him?” he asked. “I mean – like you can speak to me?” He wheeled around to face Jake head on. “Can you warn him about Brokenstar’s attack?”
Jake looked uncertain. “I... can try, I suppose,” he said weakly. “I’ve never tried to actually pass on message before. I think his medicine cat is the only one who actually knows if I’m around, and I don’t think he knows who I am.” He frowned. “Actually, I don’t think he can even see me. More like...sense my presence.”
“I’ve heard Pinestar speaking,” Firestar argued. “Surely there are other cats –”
“None that had been brought back from the future,” Jake pointed out. “At least, that’s how Pine explained it to me.”
That was a fair point. “Could you warn –” Firestar floundered for the name of WindClan’s current medicine cat. “Bark – Barkface? Is that his name?”
Jake shrugged helplessly. “Sounds familiar.”
“Could you tell him?” Firestar suggested.
Jake shrugged again. “Maybe, Firestar. I don’t know. I’m not big on dreams.”
“What’s this, then?” Firestar pointed out, gesturing to the clearing.
“An exception,” Jake said dryly. “As I mentioned before, you came back from the future. And,” he added softly, “you’re my son. Even if we never met while I was alive.”
Firestar huffed, not sure how to respond to that. “Try,” he pleaded. “WindClan doesn’t deserve this.”
Jake nodded. “I will.” He paused. “Can I ask you something?”
Firestar blinked. “Of course.”
“What happened last time?” Jake asked, his eyes wide with anxiety. “When ShadowClan attacked?”
Firestar ducked his head. “They were driven out of their own camp,” he said softly. “The survivors took shelter in a Thunderpath tunnel.”
“Did Tallstar make it?” Jake whispered.
Firestar bowed his head. “Through that and more.”
Jake sighed in relief. “Well, that’s something.”
Something clicked in Firestar’s head. “You love him, don’t you?”
Jake looked up, startled. Then he relaxed, a look of goopy fondness washing over his face that Firestar had only ever seen on Greystripe’s face when he was waxing poetic about Silverstream. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I do.”
“Does he love you?”
Jake hesitated. “I – I think so.” I hope so lingered in the air between them, unspoken.
Firestar dipped his head. “I wish you’d had more time together,” he said simply.
Jake looked at his paws. “So do I,” he agreed. Then he looked back up at Firestar. “Don’t worry too much about Sandstorm, by the way,” he said. “You’ll get there eventually. Just give it time.”
 CHAPTER NOTES
You know what else I haven't read? Tallstar's Revenge - which is an egregious oversight that I hope to correct very soon. And I know the poll says to find Yellowfang (because Yellowfang is awesome) but any time I tried to write Firestar into a course of action, he threw himself off a metaphorical cliff. So I figured he should have a little therapy first. Also I've been traveling this week (and probably next week too) so the next couple updates might be a bit shorter than usual. Sorry guys!
Hope you enjoyed! PLEASE leave me a comment below, I love hearing what my readers think. If you liked the chapter, check out my tumblr @smug-albatross where I make jokes and write for a bunch of fandoms. As always, Ouroboros is cross-posted on Ao3. |
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Non-binary
!Rowanfur
i love SEAGULLS and my GIRLFRIEND
Pronouns: they/them, he/him
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Post by !Rowanfur on May 17, 2019 22:52:30 GMT -5
god i'm always so straight up enchanted by your writing - you've breathed a lot of life into firestar, and everything feels like it's bouncing against itself really well! i've been looking forward to seeing each new chapter so far :3
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Post by SmugGull on May 17, 2019 23:03:21 GMT -5
Thank you so much! I'm really glad you like my Firestar — he's such an iconic character, I really want to do him justice.
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Non-binary
!Rowanfur
i love SEAGULLS and my GIRLFRIEND
Pronouns: they/them, he/him
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Post by !Rowanfur on May 17, 2019 23:36:30 GMT -5
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Post by SmugGull on May 18, 2019 13:52:48 GMT -5
aaaAAAAHHHHH it's amazing! I love it — I'll put it on the front page as soon as I get to my laptop.
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Post by SmugGull on May 22, 2019 14:23:12 GMT -5
Okay so it took me four days but in my defense I've been on mobile the whole time. I still love the art - it looks like a book cover!
As an apology for taking so long, here's a small preview of the next chapter -
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Post by SmugGull on May 24, 2019 23:30:46 GMT -5
The playlist on the front page has finally been updated - let me know what you think!
The new chapter will be posted in the next few hours. |
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Post by SmugGull on May 25, 2019 0:50:39 GMT -5
CHAPTER SIX
Firepaw slept in, thanks to Lionheart being on moonhigh patrol the previous night, and moved through the hunting lesson (how to stalk a bird) with only a couple of comments.
“Abandoned twoleg nests, maybe?” Greypaw said, in answer to Lionheart’s question as to where sparrows could be found outside of ThunderClan territory.
“Those are better for mice,” Firepaw corrected. “And you have to look out for owl nests, too – at night they’re usually out hunting, so you should be okay unless they have chicks.”
Lionheart nodded. “Very good Firepaw. How did you know that?”
Firepaw shrugged self-consciously. “There was an abandoned nest near my old home,” he offered. “I went hunting there a lot.”
“I see,” Lionheart meowed. “And where did you go to find birds?”
“Um...” Firepaw scrambled for a moment. “The smaller trees,” he offered. “The branches are too small to climb, but you can catch them coming back to their nests.” Birds had never been Firepaw’s specialty – he’d always preferred mice.
Lionheart hummed. “That is one way to find them, but a more reliable method is to find seed-dropping trees. Those are the birds’ source of food.”
Firepaw cursed inwardly, the information surfacing in his mind as soon as Lionheart spoke. “Right. Sorry.”
“No need for apologies,” Lionheart said smoothly. “You’re an apprentice. You’re still learning.”
But I’m not. Firepaw glanced at Greypaw, who was wearing his best encouragement face. That’s the thing.
He remembered Jake’s words from the night before. Try to relax. Jake had wanted him to, essentially, cut himself some slack – something Firepaw wasn’t very good at.
He should be doing something.
“So, what’s up?” Greypaw asked as the pair tucked themselves in a secluded corner to share a plump sparrow. “Is it Pinestar again? Because if it is, I’ll climb into your dreams myself and sit on him.”
“It’s not Pinestar,” Firepaw assured him, touched. “And you couldn’t sit on him if you tried.”
“Bet I could,” Greypaw argued. “I’m very good at sitting. On cats!” he added. Then he frowned. “That didn’t help.”
Firepaw was too busy laughing to answer properly. “You really couldn’t,” he managed. “Pinestar’s huge. Bigger than Tigerclaw.”
“Impossible.”
“It’s true! What, you don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust your dreams, that’s not the same thing –”
“What dreams?”
Firepaw and Greypaw looked up to see Sandpaw standing crankily staring down at them.
Greypaw glanced nervously between Firepaw and Sandpaw. “I, uh – well –”
“It’s nothing,” Firepaw blurted out. “Sorry for interrupting your meal, Sandpaw.”
The silence stretched between the three of them, with Sandpaw and Firepaw staring each other down and Greypaw’s eyes flicking rapidly between the two.
Finally, Sandpaw huffed and turned around and stalked away.
“What are you doing?” Greypaw hissed. “You said you wanted to tell her!”
Firepaw groaned, burying his face in the ground. “I know,” he muttered. “I just... I don’t even know how to start.”
“Same way you told me,” Greypaw offered. “StarClan sent me –”
“Keep your voice down,” Firepaw hissed. His gaze darted frantically over to Sandpaw, who was now staring at him from some distance away – but not enough distance that Firepaw couldn’t be sure she hadn’t overheard Greypaw.
Wonderful.
“Kill me,” Firepaw muttered, burying his face in Greypaw’s thick, fluffy pelt.
“Um, no?” Greypaw nosed at Firepaw’s ears. “Hey, are you doing okay?”
Firepaw sighed, shifting himself so he was leaning against Greypaw but could still keep an eye on Sandpaw – who had moved further away and was now whispering to an increasingly alarmed Dustpaw, who kept shooting Firepaw looks that roughly translated to what in StarClan’s name?
“I’m...mostly fine,” he said. “I want to tell her, I do, but... it’s Sandstorm.”
“Well...” Greypaw shrugged. “It’s not really, it’s Sandpaw. And I’m assuming Sandstorm was her warrior name?”
“It was,” Firepaw murmured, thinking back to her warrior ceremony. He glanced at his friend. “Yours was Greystripe.”
Greypaw nodded. “That makes sense.” He shifted his gaze from Firepaw to Dustpaw. “What about the others?”
“Dustpelt,” Firepaw offered. “For how much of a mess he made of the training hollow, I assume.”
At the mention of the training hollow, an idea sparked in Firepaw’s mind – why he hadn’t thought of it before, he didn’t know. “Hey, Greypaw?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“What would you say if I offered to train you?”
~~
“You want to what?”
“It’s a good idea!” Greypaw said defensively, staring down an incredulous Dustpaw. “Firepaw has like, ninety moons of experience more than we do –”
“He’s –” Dustpaw made a strangled noise and started pacing. Again. “Has he even trained an apprentice before?”
Apparently, Dustpaw was having difficulty reconciling the notion of Firestar the experienced warrior with the appearance of Firepaw the fluffy apprentice. Firepaw didn’t blame him.
“Of course he has,” Greypaw scoffed. “You have to, to get made deputy – I bet he’s trained loads. Right, Firepaw?”
“A few,” Firepaw said, glossing over the fact that he hadn’t trained an apprentice before Bluestar had made him deputy.
“How many?” Dustpaw demanded.
Firepaw considered. “Four. Well, five, if you count Brackenfur.”
Dustpaw’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t Brackenfur count?”
“Technically, he wasn’t my apprentice,” Firepaw admitted. “But his mentor wasn’t around for most of his training, so I picked up the slack.”
Dustpaw blinked. “Oh. Well, um. Okay then.” He tilted his head curiously. “Who, uh. Who were the others?”
“Nobody you’d recognize,” Firepaw said dryly. “Cinderpelt was my first apprentice – she was Brackenfur’s littermate – then there was Cloudtail, and then Brambleclaw...” Firepaw trailed off.
“Firepaw?” Greypaw prompted. “Are you okay?”
Firepaw shook his head to clear it of thoughts of a younger, kinder pair cat with amber eyes and tabby fur than the one he shared a camp with now. “I’m fine,” he assured Greypaw. “I just realized... he’d be Bramblestar now. He was my deputy when...”
Ravenpaw spoke up for the first time. “You must have been really proud of him,” he said. “What – what was he like?”
Firepaw’s chest swelled at the thought of his third apprentice. “He was the best cat I ever trained,” he said. “Brave and caring in equal measure – one of the best fighters in the clan, and a natural leader. He saved my life,” he recalled. “He was utterly devoted to ThunderClan, and to his kin.”
The warmth and pride in Firepaw’s voice shone through, and the three other apprentices exchanged glances.
“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Ravenpaw offered weakly. “I’ll do it.”
“Me too,” Greypaw said immediately - as if there was ever any doubt.
“One more thing,” Dustpaw said. “I’m in!” he said hastily, as Ravenpaw turned to face him in obvious disbelief, “but you said there were five apprentices? Who was the fifth?”
Firepaw felt his eyes misting over. “Cherrytail,” he murmured. “She made a fine warrior, but she wasn’t of ThunderClan.” He cut off Dustpaw’s question with a motion of his tail. “It’s a story for another time, but she was far happier where she was.” At least, Firepaw thought, I’d like to think so. His thoughts had turned to SkyClan often, especially during the journey to the lake and the onslaught of the Dark Forest – how were they coping, was Leafstar a good leader, could they catch enough prey – had the rats come back? Firepaw doubted they had, but he had never been sure and some nights it had kept him from sleeping.
He had never quite been able to shake the feeling that he had abandoned them.
“You’re all in?” he checked, shaking off the melancholy that had settled over him like a shroud.
Greypaw, Dustpaw, and Ravenpaw all nodded.
Firepaw stood. “Then meet me at the training hollow halfway past moonrise,” he said. “We’ll begin tonight. For now – Dustpaw, I need to speak with you.”
“C’mon, Ravenpaw, let’s see if we can get Lionheart to show us that bird stalking technique again,” Greypaw suggested, shepherding the jumpy black apprentice towards the senior warriors.
Firepaw watched them leave. Ravenpaw wasn’t as jumpy as he remembered. Maybe it was because Redtail was still alive, or maybe it was a dozen other things – whatever it was, Firepaw was glad for it.
He turned back to Dustpaw. “You looked alarmed when Sandpaw confronted you, earlier. What happened?”
Dustpaw’s shoulders hunched.
“I’m not mad,” Firepaw assured him, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Of course not,” Dustpaw snapped. “I’m not Ravenpaw.” But there was a thread of tension that ran deeper and when Firepaw didn’t answer – simply stared at him – he sighed. “Sandpaw said that Greypaw had said something about StarClan sending you and that she was sure it was some kind of ShadowClan trick to destroy ThunderClan.”
Firepaw blinked. “That is... a truly impressive leap of logic, I must admit.”
“Yeah, she can be like that,” Dustpaw muttered. “Especially with outsiders.” He looked at Firepaw apologetically. “I mean, I know you’re not –”
“I was,” Firepaw told him. “I wasn’t born in ThunderClan last time either.”
Dustpaw stared. “You weren’t? But – I mean, where were you born? Is she right? Are you from ShadowClan?”
Firepaw purred in amusement. “Nothing like that.” He sobered. “I don’t... enjoy talking about it,” he admitted. “It was a mark of shame for a long time.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Dustpaw promised. “Not even Greypaw.”
Firepaw’s whiskers twitched. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Greypaw is very persuasive.”
“To you, maybe,” Dustpaw muttered. “So?”
Firepaw sighed, dropping his gaze from Dustpaw’s. “I was born a kittypet,” he said quietly. “My parents were both kittypets – although I don’t remember either of them. I have siblings, and they’re all kittypets.” He shrugged, still looking at the ground. “There’s not a drop of warrior blood in my veins.”
Dustpaw was silent for a long moment. “I don’t think,” he said slowly, “that you’d be here if that were true. You’ve got warrior blood somewhere in your family, I’m sure of it.”
And if I don’t? Firepaw thought.
To the cats of the ThunderClan he’d left behind, it wouldn’t matter. Daisy, Millie, Purdy, and their kin, had proven that.
But the ThunderClan of today still had a long way to go.
~~
Just as Firepaw had instructed, the three apprentices filed into the training hollow at halfway between moonrise and moonhigh.
Firepaw was already there, standing tall and proud in a beam of moonlight and looking so much like a cat out of legend that Greypaw couldn’t do anything but stand and stare.
“We’ll start with the basics,” Firepaw announced. “Am I right in assuming you’ve all been taught the basic moves?”
Greypaw nodded. Dustpaw and Ravenpaw followed suit.
“Good.” Firepaw’s tail lashed across the ground. “Then show me.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Dustpaw lunged forward, swiping at Firepaw’s head – but the blow never landed. It passed harmlessly over Firepaw’s ears as Firepaw hooked his paw around Dustpaw’s front leg and sent him tumbling to the ground with a yelp.
Firepaw pinned Dustpaw down with a paw at his throat.
Dustpaw froze, then nodded slowly as Firepaw stared down at him. Firepaw nodded in return and stepped back as Dustpaw scrambled back up.
“Can anyone tell me what Dustpaw did wrong?” Firepaw asked, turning to Greypaw and Ravenpaw.
Greypaw exchanged a glance with Ravenpaw, who shrugged. As far as he could tell, Dustpaw’s form had been just fine. Clearly, though, he was wrong – if Firepaw had been able to upset him so quickly, he had to have been doing something wrong.
Firepaw glanced back at Dustpaw. “When you’re fighting, keeping your balance is imperative,” he said. “Dustpaw, when you swipe, you lean too far forward – you put too much weight on your shoulders, and it makes you easy to tip over.” He looked back to Greypaw and Dustpaw. “Does that make sense?”
They nodded.
“Good.” Firepaw turned around to face Dustpaw. “Why don’t you try again?”
Dustpaw faced Firepaw and attacked again. Immediately, Greypaw could see the difference – there was no lurch to the swipe, but it looked like there was less weight behind it.
Firepaw darted out of the way, the same as he had before, and went for Dustpaw’s foreleg.
This time, Dustpaw stayed on his feet. He purred in delight as Firepaw congratulated him and turned back to face the others. “What differences did you notice?”
“Um...” Ravenpaw spoke up tentatively. “He was putting more weight on his back paws?”
Firepaw nodded. “That’s basically it – instead of leaning all your power into a strike, you need to conserve some of it in order to maintain balance. Battles aren’t one with a single blow.”
He paced in front of them. “A good warrior thinks about the next strike,” he said. “A great warrior thinks about the next five.”
For the rest of the lesson, Firepaw had them practicing basic moves over and over again, fighting not each other but open air until they could land a solid blow without Firepaw slinking up behind him and flipping them on their tail.
“You’re doing well,” he praised as the moon crept past its peak. “Ravenpaw, your greatest strength is your speed; you have good balance and it’ll serve you well. Greypaw, you’ve got a lot of raw power in your strikes – that’ll finish your battles quickly, but you need to be careful not to overbalance. Dustpaw, you’re somewhere in the middle, so you have greater flexibility with your fighting style; the ability to adapt to the situation is going to be your biggest asset.” He straightened up. “That’s enough for tonight. Your mentors are going to want us awake as early as ever.”
~~
After three nights in a row of Firepaw’s training, they were awoken at sunup by a way-too-cheerful Lionheart.
Much to Greypaw’s consternation, Firepaw was bright-eyed and alert. The rest of them were significantly less so.
Dustpaw was the worst – he was yawning near-constantly as he trailed out of camp after Redtail. Ravenpaw was alert through the power of anxiety as Tigerclaw snapped and snarled at Firepaw (why Bluestar though that combination was a good idea, Greypaw didn’t know).
Greypaw himself could barely keep his eyes open as Lionheart explained what they’d be doing today.
So, they’d have to make some adjustments.
~~
It took about a quarter moon to figure out a schedule that worked for everyone. The whole den (minus Sandpaw, who was growing increasingly suspicious – Greypaw was dreading the day when Firepaw finally broke down and told her the truth) met twice every quarter moon, and Firepaw would meet individually with each of them once every quarter moon to work on whatever they needed to work on.
“You’ll be sneaking out almost every quarter moon,” Greypaw protested. “Aren’t you going to be exhausted?”
Firepaw just shrugged. “Not especially. As long as we stop at moonhigh like we’ve been doing, I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Ravenpaw meowed. “I mean – if the warriors think you can’t keep up with training –”
Firepaw purred. “I’ve been here for almost a moon. If they were going to kick me out, they’d have done it by now.”
The conversation lulled as Sandpaw wandered by. Privately, Greypaw made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Firepaw and sit on him if he wasn’t sleeping enough.
“So, what happens at the Gathering?” Dustpaw asked as she headed towards the fresh-kill pile, leaning forward.
Firepaw shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. I didn’t attend and nothing that anyone told me about it stuck.”
Dustpaw’s face fell.
“Well, that’s good, right?” Ravenpaw offered weakly. “If you don’t remember anything, that means nothing important probably happened, right?”
Firepaw inclined his head. “That’s one way of looking at it,” he agreed. “But we still have training to do before then.”
~~
The next group session was two days before the Gathering. Firepaw slunk out of the camp with ease – force of long habit had him glancing up to check the edge of the quarry before he remembered that this camp wasn’t in a quarry.
Still, as he made his way through the forest towards the training hollow, his fur began to prickle. He tasted the air, but the wind was blowing the wrong way to catch the scent of any pursuers.
A twig snapped behind him. He turned, scanning the undergrowth – and sighed as a rabbit hopped into view.
Maybe he was getting paranoid in his old age.
He arrived in the training hollow late, taking a winding route in an attempt to shake any pursuers – but he couldn’t catch sight of anyone. He tasted the air and swallowed back a curse, the other apprentices were close enough that their scents would lead anyone following them to the training follow without Firepaw’s help. He prowled the edge of the clearing, trying to puzzle out the myriad of scents, but something...
Firepaw looked up into the trees and saw a flash of pale fur. Hissing angrily, he threw himself up into the branches, grimacing as he snagged his claw on the tree’s soft bark.
A yowl heralded the full weight of a cat slamming into Firepaw, knocking them both to the ground. Firepaw crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, wheezing as the breath was forced from his lungs. He gasped for air as he struggled to his paws – a familiar scent hit the back of his throat –
“Sandpaw?”
CHAPTER NOTES
And now the moment a lot of you have been waiting for - Sandpaw.
Hope you enjoyed! PLEASE leave me a comment below, I love hearing what my readers think. If you liked the chapter, check out my tumblr @smug-albatross where I make jokes and write for a bunch of fandoms. As always, Ouroboros is cross-posted on Ao3.
Also, in case you missed it - the Ouroboros playlist is finally up! Take a look and tell me what you think. |
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Non-binary
!Rowanfur
i love SEAGULLS and my GIRLFRIEND
Pronouns: they/them, he/him
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Post by !Rowanfur on May 25, 2019 10:59:28 GMT -5
BIG eyes emoji!!!!!!
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Post by phantomstar57 on May 25, 2019 13:14:19 GMT -5
I need to catch up- but caring for a very sick cat for my neighbor that I can't seem to get time to read lalely but I will when I can because this is a great fic.
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Post by SmugGull on May 25, 2019 14:30:23 GMT -5
Oh no, I hope your neighbor's cat feels better soon! They of course take priority.
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Post by copperfur on May 26, 2019 4:27:19 GMT -5
Sincere apologies for disappearing. Got busy and then chrome crashed on me and I lost the 40+ windows I had open. But I've caught up now and I wanna say your fic just keeps getting and better. Keep up the great work.  |
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Post by phantomstar57 on May 26, 2019 12:04:27 GMT -5
Oh no, I hope your neighbor's cat feels better soon! They of course take priority.
Poor guy needs hand feeding 3x a day and meds. This seemed to come on so fast. He didn't seem that jaundiced the last time I gave him his anxiety med a few days before. But hopefully slow and steady will win this race. . |
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Post by SmugGull on May 26, 2019 18:05:04 GMT -5
Yikes, that sounds serious. Like you said, hopefully slow and steady wins the race. In other news, we now have an official fanart gallery on the front page! Many thanks to !Rowanfur and ☾ѕησσzє☽ for their contributions! |
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Post by Wolfyy- on May 28, 2019 19:58:21 GMT -5
This is so good! Fan me! <3
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Post by SmugGull on May 28, 2019 20:03:12 GMT -5
Ahh thank you! You've been fanned!
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 1, 2019 5:01:54 GMT -5
CHAPTER SEVEN
Firepaw’s green eyes were wide as Sandpaw loomed over him. She bared her teeth – for a spy, he was cowardly if all it took was jumping out of a tree to frighten him.
“Who were you expecting?” she hissed. “You think I don’t notice when my denmates disappear every night?”
“It’s not –” Firepaw blinked. “Are you calling me your denmate?”
Sandpaw sneered. “Only by technicality.” He didn’t even really count, he hadn’t even been in ThunderClan for a full moon and already everything was changing for the worse – he’d upset Tigerclaw and Redtail, saved a RiverClan warrior, Brokenstar was training kits as warriors (and she was sure he hadn’t said anything, nevermind that she hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Whitestorm either), and now all her denmates were falling under his spell. If he wasn’t from ShadowClan, sent to destroy them, he was from the Dark Forest itself.
She lashed her tail and flexed her claws. “What are you doing out here?” she hissed.
“I could ask the same of you,” Firepaw meowed. Sandpaw blinked as the ginger tom seemed to...relax? Why was he relaxing? She tasted the air, but the only smells she could detect was stale vole and the scents of her denmates. “You’re as much an apprentice as we are, shouldn’t you be back in camp?” He tipped his head to the side – why was he this relaxed, he shouldn’t be this relaxed – and his ears rotated slowly. “Or telling a warrior?”
“I don’t need help to deal with a kittypet.” The tension that hung thick in the air snapped as Sandpaw threw herself forward with a yowl, claws extended. Firepaw went down with a grunt, yelping in pain as her teeth sank into the scruff of his neck.
“What are you doing out here?” she growled through the fur. When he didn’t answer, she shook him. “Answer me!”
“Sandpaw!”
Sandpaw looked up to see Greypaw staring at her, horrified. Her heart twinged sympathetically – Firepaw had been his friend, the betrayal must sting –
“Let him go!” Greypaw yowled, flinging himself at her.
Sandpaw dropped Firepaw to the ground as Greypaw bowled her over. She twisted out of his grip and rolled to her feet, facing him with a hiss. “What are you doing?” she spat. “He’s a ShadowClan spy!”
“You have no idea what he is,” Greypaw hissed back.
“Enough!”
Greypaw froze as Firepaw leapt between them, pelt bristling. He cast a glare in Greypaw’s direction – the big apprentice deflated immediately, stepping back and sheathing his claws. Sandpaw had just enough presence of mind to sheath her own – she didn’t really want to fight Greypaw, and Firepaw hadn’t even resisted when she’d attacked him – as she boggled at him. Why was he so deferential to this cat?
Sandpaw’s tail lashed. “What in StarClan’s name is going on?”
Firepaw winced.
He winced.
Was he scared of her? Of course he should be scared of her, but why was he scared of her and not a cat like Tigerclaw? Or Whitestorm? Why her?
In a flash, Sandpaw remembered the way Firepaw tiptoed around Redtail – her father – and her hackles rose again.
“What are you even doing here?” she demanded. “You don’t belong – you’re a kittypet, or a ShadowClanner, or a rogue – everything but a ThunderClan warrior.” Sandpaw spat contemptuously into the dirt, and Firepaw looked away.
“Sandst – Sandpaw, I –”
Sandpaw’s ears pinned against her skull. “What were you about to call me?” she demanded, taking a pace forward.
“Sandpaw, stop!” Greypaw dove in front of Firepaw and standing nose-to-nose with her, his fur puffed out and his ears pinned back. “Just stop!”
“Not until someone explains!” Sandpaw yowled. “You’ve all been sneaking around behind my back and I’m sick of it! Tell me what’s going on!”
“Okay,” Firepaw blurted out.
Greypaw stared at Firepaw. “But – you said –”
Firepaw grimaced. “I’m aware. But I was wrong. She needs to know.”
“Know what?” Sandpaw demanded.
She was summarily ignored by both of them as they had a long staring contest and had to resist the urge to claw off their ears.
“Follow me,” Firepaw meowed, gesturing towards the Training Hollow with his tail. “I’ll explain on the way.”
~~
Explaining things to Sandpaw was difficult enough without having to dodge around the exact nature of her and Firepaw’s relationship. More than once, Firepaw caught himself beginning a tangent that would lead to his ears being clawed off and abruptly changed topics.
(Sandpaw definitely noticed but he always managed to distract her with some wild information about the future and his ears remained intact.)
“You expect me to believe this?” Sandpaw demanded, once Firepaw was finished. She turned to Greypaw. “You can’t seriously believe –”
“I do,” Greypaw said stubbornly. “He’s telling the truth – Ravenpaw and Dustpaw believe him too –”
“Oh do they –”
“Yeah, they do!” Greypaw bristled. “StarClan, why can’t you just see –”
Firepaw sighed. Had they fought this much as apprentices? Surely not. “Greypaw.”
Greypaw’s jaws clamped shut with a click of teeth. Sandpaw swung around to face him, incredulity written all over her face.
(It was so odd to see the hints of the cat she’d become, written into a flick of her ears or a turn of the head, but buried beneath layers of biting hate and kitten fluff – constant reminders that this was not his Sandstorm, but a stranger. One who hated him.)
“Let’s say,” he meowed, holding Sandpaw’s gaze, “for the sake of the argument, that you believe me. What do you want to know?”
“Why you?” Sandpaw demanded. “You’re – you’re not even part of ThunderClan, why would StarClan send you back?”
Firepaw sighed, all the frustrations of the past moon bubbling up under his pelt. “I don’t know,” he managed. “Maybe it’s because Tigerstar considered me his greatest enemy. Maybe it’s because they thought I had the best chance. Maybe they just wanted to spite me,” he added, unable to keep the sardonic purr out of his voice.
Judging by the way Sandpaw’s eyes narrowed, she didn’t see the humor.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway. What else do you want to know?”
“What are you doing sneaking out in the woods?”
Direct as ever. “Training.”
Sandpaw’s eyes narrowed even further, if that was even possible. “Training for what?”
“Very ominous, Firepaw,” Greypaw chimed in.
Firepaw winced. “Sorry,” he apologized. “We’re not training for anything specific – just to be warriors.” He flicked his tail. “You might be young, but –”
“You’re six moons old.”
Firepaw had honestly forgotten that Sandstorm was two moons older than he was. “Ninety-six, actually,” he corrected her, whiskers twitching as her eyes bugged out comically. “But I’m sure your two-moon advantage is so very impressive, so do continue.”
Sandpaw shut her muzzle and glared.
“Or not.” Firepaw shrugged. “As I was saying, you might be young, but that won’t matter to ShadowClan. I don’t want any of you to get hurt,” he meowed, remembering the crushing despair he’d felt upon learning Greystripe had been lost to the Twolegs and the fear that had seized his heart when Sandstorm had nearly died at Mapleshade’s claws.
Sandpaw was silent for a long moment. Then she turned to Greypaw. “You say Dustpaw believes him?”
Greypaw nodded.
Sandpaw huffed. “Fine. I don’t believe you,” she said flatly, staring hard at Firepaw. “But I’ll go along with this.” For now hovered in the air between them, unspoken.
Firepaw dipped his head. “That’s all I ask,” he said sincerely. “Just train with us. Brokenstar won’t stay out of our territory forever – besides, we have other problems.”
Sandpaw snorted at that but offered no comment. Firepaw suspected that she didn’t believe him about Tigerstar’s betrayals – he was still a respected member of ThunderClan, after all, and one of Bluestar’s most trusted warriors.
He had to be. He wouldn’t have gotten away with as much as he did otherwise.
Ravenpaw and Dustpaw were waiting in the Training Hollow with wide eyes.
“What happened?” Dustpaw demanded. “I thought I heard –”
“It’s all right,” Firepaw assured him. “Nobody minds Sandpaw joining us for tonight, right?”
Dustpaw flicked his tail. “Of course not,” he meowed, glancing at Sandpaw. Ravenpaw offered no comment, just shuffled to the side to make room.
Sandpaw stepped into line with Greypaw, her fur still bristling slightly as she glanced around at the others. Anxiety roiled in Firepaw’s stomach – he had to convince her that this was something worth doing. He had to.
“Okay,” he meowed, squaring his shoulders and hastily rewriting his lesson plan for the night. “So far, we’ve been working on keeping balanced in a fight and thinking a few steps ahead of your opponent. Tonight, we’re going to be testing what you’ve learned. Ravenpaw and Greypaw, I want you two to be sparring partners – Dustpaw, watch them and if you see something wrong, see if you can correct it.” He hoped that would work – Dustpaw was the best mentor of the five of them, and Firepaw hoped to nurture that talent even further now that he had the chance. “Sandpaw, you and I will work together.”
“I fight fine,” Sandpaw snapped.
“Fine enough to defeat a ShadowClan warrior?”
Sandpaw sneered, but as the other three grouped off together, she shuffled over to him. “Fine. What are we doing, then?”
Firepaw faced her, keeping light on his toes – he remembered how fast Sandstorm had been, even as an apprentice. “I need to assess your skills, first of all. Take a swipe at me.”
“With pleasure,” she muttered, and lashed out with a hiss.
Much like he had with Dustpaw, Firepaw slithered under her outstretched leg and rammed his shoulder up into her chest, throwing her to the side and sending her crashing to the ground with an undignified yelp.
Sandpaw scrambled to her feet, ears pinned back. “How –”
“The same way I did it to the others,” Firepaw told her, gesturing to their denmates with his tail – Ravenpaw had just sent Greypaw staggering back, shaking his head, and Dustpaw was purring encouragement. “You overbalance on your strikes – you all do, and I’d bet a moon of dawn patrols some of the warriors do it too.” His whiskers twitched. “Longtail, for instance.”
“Is that how you beat him?” Sandpaw’s tone was more curious and less hostile now, leaning forward to hang on every word. He felt a glow of pride in his chest – whatever she felt about him, she was always determined to be the best warrior ThunderClan could hope for.
And in his completely biased opinion, she was.
“More or less,” Firepaw admitted. “His strike didn’t land, and he didn’t react in time. It left his side open and,” he shrugged. “Well, you were there.”
“Would you have killed him?”
Firepaw blinked. “I – what?”
“Would you have killed him?” Sandpaw repeated. “If he hadn’t yielded, or if Bluestar hadn’t called you off.”
Firepaw stared at her. “Would I – of course not.” The fur along his spine prickled at the very thought. “He’s my clanmate. I could never hurt him.”
“He wasn’t then,” Sandpaw pointed out.
“Yes, he was.” Firepaw shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’ve lived beside him nearly my entire life. I shared a den with him, I assigned him two of his apprentices, I performed his elder’s ceremony, I was there when he died. He’s a good cat – patient and kind, dedicated to his clan and loyal to his friends.”
“He tried to rip your fur off,” Sandpaw pointed out.
Firepaw shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”
“Patient and kind,” Sandpaw muttered. “Under what moon – where were we?”
“I was about to tell you how not to get tossed on your tail every time you fight,” Firepaw reminded her.
“Right,” Sandpaw flexed her claws. “Get on with it.”
~~
Firepaw led the group back to camp in high spirits. Sandpaw still wasn’t wholly convinced, but she wasn’t running to Spottedleaf or Bluestar either, and she’d agreed to keep coming to the training sessions. Reluctantly, Firepaw had been forced to cut back individual sessions to once every quarter moon – he was good, but he wasn’t that good.
Ravenpaw was becoming a force to be reckoned with, his speed and agility making him difficult to pin down. Greypaw was still struggling with keeping his balance, but when he managed it, he turned into an immovable boulder. Dustpaw was somewhere in the middle – steady and reliable and straightlaced as he always was, already quick to offer a helping paw to the other apprentices.
Firepaw was so, so proud of them.
Perhaps it was because of his high spirits that he didn’t notice the pair of bright orange eyes that slunk in their wake, or the ginger tail that circled around their left flank. He didn’t notice any of this, nor did the others, until the ThunderClan deputy was sitting in front of them.
“Well, well,” Redtail meowed. “This must be some kind of record. I don’t think we’ve ever had all the apprentices sneak out of camp at once.”
“Redtail, we weren’t –” Dustpaw blurted out, casting a panicked glance at Firepaw.
Redtail silenced him with a wave of his tail. “You can explain yourselves to Bluestar,” he meowed. “And then to your mentors.”
Firepaw, who did not have a mentor, kept his mouth firmly shut.
“Except for you,” Redtail added, switching his gaze to Firepaw. “I expect Bluestar will want to deal with you personally.”
“It was my idea,” Greypaw blurted out. His fluffy grey tail was twitching nervously, brushing erratically against Firepaw’s flank. “I, er, I thought we could do some extra battle training together and –”
Redtail waved his tail again and Greypaw fell silent. “Tell Bluestar,” he meowed. “She’s the one who noticed Sandpaw leaving.”
As one, three sets of eyes whipped around to glare at Sandpaw, who hissed defensively. Firepaw kept his gaze trained on Redtail. The shadows around the small tom seemed to crawl around his frame in a way that made Firepaw’s skin crawl.
In the darkness over Redtail’s shoulder, amber eyes gleamed.
Next to Firepaw, Dustpaw stiffened, and Firepaw knew he saw them too.
Redtail turned. The eyes vanished.
He tasted the air, looking unsettled, but the wind was blowing the wrong way to catch any scent but that of the apprentices gathered in front of them.
“Back to camp,” he said curtly.
Dustpaw followed immediately, casting a wide-eyed look back at Firepaw. Sandpaw hurried after him, followed by Sandpaw. Firepaw and Greypaw brought up the rear.
“Thanks,” Firepaw murmured to Greypaw, taking care not to let his words reach Redtail’s ears.
Greypaw nodded. “How’s Sandpaw?” he whispered back.
“She’s fine.” Firepaw’s ears twitched. Were those pawsteps, or was he imagining things? It could have been leaves falling from the trees (in newleaf?) or prey scuttling about (at this hour?) –
Or it could be Tigerclaw, slinking through the trees and watching them.
How long had he been following them? How much did he know?
Greypaw sped up. Firepaw, who had slowed to look over his shoulder, scanning the undergrowth for a glint of amber or a flash of tabby fur, hadn’t realized that they’d fallen behind.
Redtail hadn’t realized either, but Sandpaw was glancing over her shoulder at him. She tilted her head quizzically as Greypaw caught up, meowing something that Firepaw didn’t catch. Their ears brushed as they carried out a whispered conversation, casting furtive glances ahead of them.
Firepaw made to chase after them, but before he could go more than two pawsteps, a heavy weight slammed into his side, knocking him off his paws and sending him skidding into the underbrush and knocking the air from his chest.
“Firepaw!” Greypaw called. “Firepaw! Where are you?”
Strong paws pinned him down before he could get his breath back, but Firepaw felt his muscles lock up as a familiar, dreaded voice hissed in his ear.
“Not a sound, kittypet,” rumbled the deep, throaty baritone of Tigerclaw. “Or they’ll never even find what’s left of you.”
Firepaw stayed quiet as Redtail’s voice joined Greypaw’s. “This is no time for games, Firepaw!” the deputy called. “We must return to camp immediately.”
Tigerclaw’s claws talons pricked Firepaw’s pelt, but he held his tongue.
“Firepaw!” Greypaw yowled, desperation plain in his voice.
Dustpaw’s meows joined the chorus. “Firepaw! Where are you?”
Tigerclaw stayed silent and motionless.
“Back to camp.” Redtail’s voice snapped through the tension that was thick in the air. “Now.”
“What about Firepaw?” Greypaw wailed. “What if something’s happened to him?”
“I will take some warriors and look for Firepaw. You need to remain in camp…”
Redtail’s voice trailed off. Pawsteps faded into the distance, then fell silent.
They were alone.
Tigerclaw fastened his teeth into Firepaw’s scruff and dragged him away from the trail. Firepaw struggled as soon as Tigerclaw’s weight lifted, but a sharp shake of Tigerclaw’s head cracked Firepaw’s skull against the trunk of a tree and he fell limp as stars danced across his vision.
When Tigerclaw stopped, Firepaw was thoroughly disoriented. He thought he recognized this part of the territory, but he didn’t know how Tigerclaw could have gotten there so quickly, and the shadows of the trees looked warped and wrong in the moonlight.
Tigerclaw dropped him unceremoniously to the ground. Firepaw tried to scramble to his paws, but Tigerclaw pinned him down before he could get his feet underneath him.
“Now,” Tigerclaw rumbled. “You’re going to tell me everything.”
~~
As the moon began to descend below the horizon, Tigerclaw pushed his way to ThunderClan camp carrying a small scrap of ginger fur in his jaws.
Greypaw’s wail of despair was piercing and immediate – the clan roused as one, from elders rising to aching feet to kits peering around their mothers’ legs. Alone among them was Bluestar, standing solitary vigil as she awaited the return of her beloved deputy and the wayward apprentice he was chasing.
Tigerclaw laid the battered body of that self-same apprentice at Bluestar’s feet. His pelt had been rent open by cruel claws and his fur was caked with blood. One ear had been nearly severed, and the stark white of bone could be seen through a gash in his flank.
“I found him near the Twolegplace,” Tigerclaw rumbled. “He’d been cornered by a gang of rogues. They made a sport of him – I chased them off, and killed their leader, but I was too late to save him.”
Bluestar pressed her nose into the bloody ginger fur. Bitterness flashed across her face and she closed her eyes.
“He would have been a fine warrior,” she meowed. “May StarClan welcome him.”
“May StarClan welcome him,” Tigerclaw echoed.
Greypaw threw himself forward and buried his muzzle in Firepaw’s fur. Slowly, Dustpaw came up to his side and began to lick Firepaw’s pelt clean. After a moment’s hesitation, Ravenpaw slunk up next to Bluestar and began to do the same, washing Firepaw’s bloodied flank carefully.
Sandpaw came next, cleaning the blood from his head. The rest of the clan kept their distance as Bluestar lifted her head and swept her gaze across the gathered cats.
“We will sit vigil for Firepaw,” she said firmly. “He was a cat of ThunderClan, and a worthy apprentice, despite having no warrior blood of his own. Our clan is lesser for his loss.”
Sandpaw glanced up at Bluestar as she spoke, but did not break the rhythm of her grooming. Darkstripe snorted and turned back to the warrior’s den with a contemptuous sneer. Longtail gazed down at Firepaw’s body, looking torn, but eventually followed the dark warrior back into the den.
Slowly, the rest of the clan returned to their dens, with the exception of the apprentices – and Tigerclaw, who loomed over them all like a specter.
The ginger apprentice’s last words, choked out in bloody gasps as Tigerclaw ripped him apart, were running through his head in a never-ending loop.
I've seen you die nine times, Firepaw had said, and I lived out my life while your ghost lurked in solitude and despair. And when you decide to break those barriers, and return to this plane, I'll kill you myself.
Tigerclaw flexed his claws as he swept his gaze over Firepaw’s body.
I've done it before, Tigerclaw.
I can do it again.
Nine times, the kittypet had said. Nine deaths, nine lives.
The nine lives of a leader.
Tigerclaw’s heart soared. Whatever the kittypet had seen, whatever gifts Pinestar had given him (it was Pinestar, of course it was – the young tom had choked out his name as he lay dying, and who else would he call for?), the rule of ThunderClan was Tigerclaw’s by right.
His head turned towards the den where Bluestar slept.
And he would take it, he vowed.
As the dawn crested over the horizon, the sun’s rays shone down upon Firepaw’s body, turning his ragged pelt into shining flame. For a moment, his wounds seem to vanish in the crackling flame.
Firepaw’s green eyes opened.
CHAPTER NOTES
It's 3 am I'm going to SLEEP. Hope y'all enjoy I'll be awake at like. Noon.
Hope you enjoyed! PLEASE leave me a comment below, I love hearing what my readers think. If you liked the chapter, check out my tumblr @smug-albatross where I make jokes and write for a bunch of fandoms. As always, Ouroboros is cross-posted on Ao3. <iframe style="position: absolute; width: 13px; height: 2.12px; z-index: -9999; border-style: none; left: 184px; top: 7681px;" id="MoatPxIOPT0_60756012" scrolling="no" width="13" height="2.1200000000000045"></iframe> <iframe style="position: absolute; width: 13px; height: 2.12px; z-index: -9999; border-style: none; left: 770px; top: 7681px;" id="MoatPxIOPT0_52923547" scrolling="no" width="13" height="2.1200000000000045"></iframe> <iframe style="position: absolute; width: 13px; height: 2.12px; z-index: -9999; border-style: none; left: 184px; top: 7734px;" id="MoatPxIOPT0_66528013" scrolling="no" width="13" height="2.1200000000000045"></iframe> <iframe style="position: absolute; width: 13px; height: 2.12px; z-index: -9999; border-style: none; left: 770px; top: 7734px;" id="MoatPxIOPT0_75153556" scrolling="no" width="13" height="2.1200000000000045"></iframe> |
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 1, 2019 14:49:19 GMT -5
3 am misnaming of poor Longtail has been fixed.
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Non-binary
!Rowanfur
i love SEAGULLS and my GIRLFRIEND
Pronouns: they/them, he/him
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Post by !Rowanfur on Jun 1, 2019 14:52:53 GMT -5
god every time you post a chapter i get so excited!!!!!!! it's like christmas
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Post by copperfur on Jun 1, 2019 18:21:24 GMT -5
OMG. That was fantastically written. How will they stop Tigerclaw now?
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 1, 2019 20:37:44 GMT -5
Ahhhh thank you guys!!
As for what happens next...I have PlansTM
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 8, 2019 4:32:57 GMT -5
CHAPTER EIGHT
Firestar awoke to silver light and echoing hisses swirling around him.
His body ached in ways he hadn’t even thought possible, the fur around his eyes was crusted with pain-tears – his head was killing him –
The hisses got louder, a few voices rising into yowls. Firestar whimpered involuntarily and the cats quieted again. Warm fur pressed into his side and he slumped into the gentle contact as a careful tongue lapped away the blood that had sunk into the fur on his head.
“It’s okay,” someone murmured. “You’re safe now – you’ve been so brave, Firestar, and it’s over now.”
“Jake?” Firestar rasped. He tried to raise his head and regretted it immediately. “What…?”
“You lost another life,” Jake said. “Tigerclaw, he…”
Firestar flinched at the memory. He’d never been that helpless – not even when Hawkfrost had tricked him into the fox trap at the edge of the lake. At least then, Brambleclaw had been by his side. There had been hope amidst the pain.
Trapped in the depths of the forest, there had only been Tigerclaw’s mercy. And he was famously merciless.
“Firestar?” Jake nosed his scruff gently. “How are you feeling?”
Firestar thought of the cold grass and the freezing water drying on his pelt – Tigerclaw must have dragged him through a stream to reach his destination, but he could have sworn they were near Tallpines – and shuddered.
Apparently, that was answer enough for Jake. “You’re healing,” he promised. “StarClan, though – some of them don’t want to send you back.”
Firestar jerked upright, ignoring his body’s protests. “What?” he blurted out, ignoring Jake’s distressed meow. “I have to go back – I can’t leave them, not like this – ”
“Be calm, Firestar.” A new voice cut through the rising din, cutting the arguments down to mutters and the occasional hiss. Firestar turned to see a large, bright ginger tom with a torn ear emerging from the swirl of sunlight, followed by a very irate-looking Pinestar.
Firestar glanced back at Jake. “If you’re anybody’s parent, please tell me now instead of letting me run in circles.”
The tom’s whiskers twitched. “I have no a mate, nor kits,” he promised. “Neither have ever interested me.” He dipped his head. “My name is Sunstar. I led ThunderClan before Bluestar did.”
“She was your deputy,” Firestar recalled, glancing to Pinestar. “And you were Pinestar’s?”
“He was much more agreeable back then,” Pinestar complained.
“I was shorted a life because of your selfishness,” Sunstar snapped. “If you had at least had the dignity to throw yourself into a fox’s teeth – ”
Pinestar hissed. Sunstar snarled.
“Oh, save it!” Firestar snapped. “Thunderstar’s sake, I’d almost forgotten how petty the dead can be.” He focused his gaze on Sunstar, ignoring Pinestar’s derisive snort. “Jake tells me you don’t want me to return to ThunderClan.”
“Jake speaks too freely,” Sunstar meowed, casting a stern glance over Firestar’s shoulder. Firestar bristled, stepping sideways to block his gaze. “But he also speaks truthfully. You are not supposed to be here, Firestar – your presence has consequences even we cannot foresee.”
“Since when have you ever foreseen anything useful?” Firestar muttered.
Someone in the crowd snorted.
Sunstar did not. “It is the duty of StarClan to watch over this forest,” he meowed, yellow eyes hard. “We cannot protect it from what we cannot see.”
“Then let me spare you the trouble,” Firestar snapped. “Tigerstar is a threat to the forest while he lives, and he’ll be a threat to StarClan after he dies. ShadowClan is rising under Brokenstar’s leadership – although I notice you never said anything about that, even as he trains kits to throw into battle as fodder for your ranks –”
An outraged hiss came from the starry ranks. Firestar ignored it.
“If you can’t see what’s happening, then stay out of my way and let me handle it,” Firestar continued. “I’ll take care of the clans while you squabble amongst yourselves about prophecies.”
“And what of ShadowClan?” someone yowled. Firestar turned to see a large dark brown tabby tom pushing his way through the ranks, his ragged fur bristling. “Do you expect me to believe that you’ll watch over ShadowClan once you’ve driven out Brokenstar?”
Firestar thought of Tawnypelt, Brambleclaw’s beloved sister and a fierce warrior in her own right, and of her kits; he thought of Russetfur, brave and loyal and fierce, every inch of what a warrior should be. He thought of Yellowfang, born and raised in ShadowClan, and of Nightstar, who had tried desperately to save his clan despite all odds – and even of Blackstar, who Firestar had never liked but had grown to respect.
He met the tom’s gaze. “Yes.”
“And RiverClan?” called another cat – this one a huge, thick-furred grey tom. “My clan clashes often with yours, Firestar. What guarantee do we have that you will not seek to tip the scales in your favor?”
Firestar’s tail lashed in irritation. “I saved your deputy, did I not?” he shot back. “Oakheart would have died at Sunningrocks without my intervention.”
The grey tom flicked his tail dismissively. “Oakheart is not without his ties to ThunderClan –”
“Are you doubting his loyalty?” Firestar challenged.
The grey tom bristled, but before he could retort, a third voice cut through the air.
“Peace, Hailstar,” a sleek lilac she-cat meowed, weaving through the crowd to regard the grey tom – Hailstar – with cool blue eyes. “And you, Raggedstar,” she added, switching her gaze to the dark brown tabby, who snorted but sheathed his claws.
Raggedstar. Firestar blinked. You’re Brokenstar’s father, he realized. Yellowfang’s mate.
“Heatherstar,” Hailstar meowed evenly. “You have something to say?”
Heatherstar inclined her head. “I do,” she meowed. “How many here are aware that Firestar attempted to send a warning to WindClan of Brokenstar’s intentions to drive them from their home?”
“Is that supposed to reassure me?” Raggedstar retorted.
“They’ll go on like this for a while,” Pinestar muttered to Firestar. “Might as well get some rest until they’re done bickering amongst themselves.”
Firestar snorted but remained standing.
“– doesn’t prove anything,” Raggedstar said dismissively. “It’s well-known that his kittypet father was a close friend of Tallstar’s –”
“They were in love, Raggedstar, you might as well say it,” Hailstar meowed crossly. “The point is that Firestar has no connection to either of our clans, so how can we believe that he will not use his knowledge of the future to drive us out of our territories?”
Firestar couldn’t stay silent. “Like you did to SkyClan?”
Silence fell over the clearing.
“When SkyClan’s ancestors called for my help, I answered,” Firestar spoke into the stillness. “I have no SkyClan blood, no SkyClan friendships. I had a cat I did not know ask me for help, and do you know what I did?”
No one answered.
“I answered.” Firestar swept his gaze over the assembled cats. “I found the camp of a clan that had been destroyed by rats and I found the cats of SkyClan blood that lived on as kittypets or rogues and I dragged SkyClan back to life – because there were five clans in the forest, once, and I will give every last life in my bones to ensure that one day, there will be again.”
Pinestar stepped forward. “My friends...”
“Oh, here we go,” Hailstar muttered. Raggedstar swatted him with his tail. Heatherstar rolled her eyes.
Firestar sighed internally. Clan politics.
“If I may,” Pinestar meowed, his tone frosting slightly at Hailstar’s interruption, “we may have lost the ability to see the broad strokes of the world, but the little things in life remain visible to us, do they not? Lilywhisker warned Barkface of the dogs less than a moon ago, and Brambleberry even spoke to Crookedstar last night.”
Hailstar grunted.
“Our role as sentries has not changed,” Pinestar pointed out. “Only now our prophecies come from a more reliable source than we have ever had before.” He turned to Firestar. “From one who has lived them.”
“That still leaves one question,” Sunstar called. “Who brought him here?”
Pinestar blinked. “Why, I did.”
“You what?” Raggedstar yowled. “Pinestar, are you mouse-brained?”
“You have not seen what I have!” Pinestar spat back. “No, not even you! Your son does not an army of our most vicious dead, your son does not slay StarClan cats, your son does not turn blood against blood and nearly rip the clans apart!”
“Is Tigerclaw really so dangerous?” Sunstar meowed. “After all, he has Bluestar’s trust –”
“Were none of you paying attention?” Firestar demanded. “Didn’t you see how I died?”
Pinestar snorted. “Bold of you, to assume they were paying attention.”
“You were murdered.” Raggedstar sounded unimpressed. “How, and by whom, is not our concern.”
“It was Tigerstar,” Firestar meowed. “Or Tigerclaw, to you.”
Pinestar spoke into the silence that followed. “I was there.” He looked around at the gathered cats as mutterings began to spread. “The clans have not known a villain like him since we came to the forest.”
“We beat him before,” Hailstar pointed out. “Your protégé’s presence is proof enough of that.”
“The cost,” Pinestar said coldly, “was too high.”
Firestar opened his mouth to contribute, but his vision swam and he staggered. Jake caught him. “What’s wrong?” he meowed.
“He has stayed too long,” Sunstar murmured. “He must return.”
“Quite so,” Pinestar agreed, as Firestar’s vision faded. “Be careful, Firestar. My son’s cunning knows no bounds.”
~~
Firepaw opened his eyes into the blinding light of dawn and winced.
Then he winced again at Greypaw’s tear-choked cry. “Firepaw!”
“How…?”
Sandstorm. Firepaw turned blindly towards her voice, still squinting into the light. His vision cleared, slowly but surely, and he saw Sandpaw hovering over him, eyes wide – and behind her was Tigerclaw, who appeared equally shocked.
Suspicion, apparently, didn’t count as belief – especially if it had taken Firepaw as long to come back as he thought it had.
“Um,” he muttered, struggling to his feet. He swayed on the spot and Greypaw (bless him) immediately offered Firepaw his shoulder to lean on. Firepaw accepted it gratefully, slumping against him as he waited for his limbs to get the message that he wasn’t actually dead. “Ow.”
“What happened?” Greypaw demanded. “You just disappeared – it was like an owl had swooped down out of the sky or something –”
Firepaw glanced nervously at Tigerclaw – not all of his wounds had healed, and the fresh scar on his neck burned anew whenever the massive tabby was nearby. He tried to say it was Tigerclaw but the words stuck in his throat when the warrior’s gaze caught his.
“Disappeared?” he echoed, leaning harder on Greypaw. “Huh. That’s – huh.” He glanced around. “Where’s Redtail?”
“Out looking for you.” Dustpaw’s tail was lashing back and forth, and if the way he was bouncing on his feet was any indication, he was about to explode from worry and nerves. “He left with Runningwind and Mousefur as soon as we got back to camp.”
Firepaw blinked. “And he’s not...back...yet...?”
“Firepaw!”
“StarClan save me,” Firepaw muttered as Spottedleaf and Bluestar closed in on him from opposite sides.
“It appears they already have,” Bluestar meowed, her eyes full of wonder.
Spottedleaf sniffed at his injuries, tsking here and there. “Pinestar?” she murmured.
Firepaw nodded.
Bluestar’s eyes narrowed – and behind him, a growl rumbled in Tigerclaw’s throat.
~~
Spottedleaf didn’t speak as she treated his wounds. Firepaw was grateful – he was still exhausted from...everything.
“There will be questions,” Spottedleaf murmured. “I hope you’re prepared to answer them.”
Firepaw didn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You’ll have to.” Spottedleaf’s voice was gentle but firm as she applied cobwebs to the last of his wounds. “Would it help if you talked to me first?”
Tigerclaw did this. He opened his mouth, but the sentence twisted into a choked, wordless noise and he turned his head away in shame.
Spottedleaf sighed. “I do not think that will satisfy Bluestar.”
Firepaw slumped. He needed to get Tigerclaw out of ThunderClan as soon as possible, but... Bluestar. It’ll destroy her.
Maybe with Redtail here it would be different.
“Is Redtail’s patrol back yet?” he rasped.
Spottedleaf opened her mouth to respond, but a yowl from the front entrance cut off her answer.
“Spottedleaf, we need you!”
Mousefur. Firepaw immediately tried to rise to his feet, but Spottedleaf snapped at him and he collapsed back into the nest. Best not to anger the medicine cat. He let his eyes drift shut – dying hardly counted as sleep –
“Redtail!”
Dustpaw’s frantic wail cut through him like – like, well, Tigerclaw’s claws. He shivered, burrowing a little deeper into the nest, but his eyes were fixed on the entrance to the den.
Within moments, Redtail came limping into the medicine den, leaning on Dustpaw as Spottedleaf swept inside behind them. “Set him down over there,” she meowed, gesturing to the nest beside Firepaw.
Redtail sagged in relief as he laid eyes on Firepaw. “You’re alive,” he murmured, as Dustpaw eased him into the nest.
Firepaw couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “You look terrible.”
He didn’t look as bad as Firepaw felt, but it was a near thing. He had scratches down his flanks that were steadily trickling blood, there was a deep nick in one ear, and his hind leg looked like someone had tried to rip it off. They’d been unsuccessful (thank StarClan) but the tooth-marks were deep, painful, and bleeding freely.
Redtail snorted. “You look worse.”
“Quiet, both of you,” Spottedleaf scolded. “How do you expect to get any rest with all this talking going on?”
“Is he going to be okay?” Dustpaw blurted out.
“He’ll be fine,” Spottedleaf assured him, carefully pasting a poultice of marigold on his leg and pushing a few poppy seeds towards Redtail. “You, though – you and your friends need some rest. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t slept all night.”
“We were sitting vigil,” Dustpaw protested.
“And now you’re not,” Spottedleaf pointed out, right as Redtail (just about to eat the poppy seeds) asked “What vigil?”
A few seconds of awkward looks passed before Spottedleaf pressed a pawful of cobwebs to Redtail’s leg. “When Tigerclaw brought Firepaw back to camp, we believed he was dead,” she said cautiously. “His denmates sat vigil for him, along with Tigerclaw. He only woke up once the sun rose.”
Redtail’s ears twitched. “You...believed he was dead.” The words were flatly incredulous. “How did you make that mistake, exactly.”
Dustpaw glanced at Firepaw, who shook his head.
Spottedleaf caught the exchange out of the corner of her eye and sighed. “StarClan’s intervention, I’m sure. He was neither breathing nor bleeding by the time Tigerclaw returned, and now?” She flicked her tail. “Well, he won’t be winning any battles, but he’s awake.”
Redtail was silent for a long moment. “Get some sleep, Dustpaw.”
“But –”
“Dustpaw!” Redtail snapped.
Dustpaw turned to Firepaw appealingly. “Firepaw –”
“He’s right,” Firepaw said. “All of you need to sleep. We’ll be fine.”
Dustpaw hesitated for a moment longer before turning and disappearing out of the den.
“You’ve become quite close,” Redtail remarked cautiously. “It’s...surprising.”
“He’s a good cat,” Firepaw said, trying to keep his voice neutral. “He’ll be a fine warrior.”
Redtail hummed what sounded like an agreement. “You may well be right,” he meowed.
Spottedleaf muttered something and Redtail snorted, but he lapped up the poppy seeds and soon he had dozed off.
“None for me?” Firepaw meowed as Spottedleaf began reorganizing her herb store.
Spottedleaf shook her head. “I’m sorry Firepaw. I know you must be in a lot of pain right now, but considering your circumstances it wouldn’t be safe to give you poppy seeds. Especially not with the head injuries you’ve sustained.”
Well, that was...new. He nodded and slumped back into his nest, trying to recall if he’d ever heard Yellowfang or Leafpool or Jayfeather mention anything of the sort (he loved Cinderpelt like a little sister, but she had never quite matched her mentor – or her apprentice). He didn’t think so, admittedly.
His vision grew dim as exhaustion claimed him, and he fell asleep without even realizing it.
~~
Spottedleaf released Redtail to return to camp duties that same evening, but Firepaw was confined to the den for three more days before he was allowed to leave. Greypaw spent most of his free time keeping him company, but Lionheart (and apparently all the mentors – save Tigerclaw, for reasons Firepaw was sure he couldn’t fathom) was working him to the bone with training.
He told Firepaw all about the Gathering – apparently, WindClan and ShadowClan almost came to blows over ShadowClan incursions on WindClan’s territory and Crookedstar had seemed on edge the entire time. Bluestar had warned the clans of rogue incursions near the Twolegplace but made no mention of Firepaw.
“Nice of her,” Firepaw muttered. “Anything else interesting?”
“I heard Oakheart asking about you,” Greypaw meowed. “Any idea why?”
Firepaw shrugged. “He was at Sunningrocks,” he meowed. “That might have something to do with it.” He sat up, washing his fur carefully. Greypaw moved to help him. “How’s Redtail?”
“He’s doing fine,” Greypaw assured him. “Dustpaw isn’t letting him out of his sight.” He dropped his voice. “Tigerclaw’s still trying to get him alone.” He hesitated. “Firepaw...was he the one who –”
“Don’t,” Firepaw rasped.
“Okay,” Greypaw meowed hastily, pressing against him. “Hey, it’s okay.”
Firepaw pressed his face into Greypaw’s fur. “I still see him,” he whispered. “Every time I close my eyes, I can feel him tearing at my pelt –”
Greypaw brushed his tail comfortingly down Firepaw’s back. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “It’s over, you’re safe.”
Firepaw didn’t answer, just pressed himself closer against his friend. Tears turned their pelts wet, but Greypaw didn’t seem to mind.
The nightmares weren’t so bad that night.
Spottedleaf let him leave the next day, with the stipulation that he was to check in with her every evening before going to sleep so she could check his wounds and make sure they were healing. Firepaw nodded agreeably and, as soon as she shooed him out, made a beeline for the opposite end of camp.
“Firepaw!” Redtail greeted him with a warm meow. “The miracle cat. I see Spottedleaf has finally freed you.”
Firepaw purred. “Thank StarClan. Another day in that den and I’d have flung myself into the claws of the next unfriendly cat I saw.”
“Speaking of unfriendly cats,” Redtail continued, and Firepaw’s heart sank, “I was hoping to ask you something.”
Firepaw’s tail twitched. “Oh? What is it?”
Redtail curled his tail around his paws. “After you disappeared, I took a patrol and followed your scent. Tigerclaw tells me you were set upon by rogues, but we found no rogue scents until we reached the Twolegplace.” He tilted his head. “The only scents I found were yours and Tigerclaw’s – from when he brought you back, I assume.”
Firepaw flinched, breaking eye contact. Redtail’s voice softened. “Firepaw, you are not in trouble. Far from it. I want to make sure that any threats to ThunderClan are dealt with, and swiftly. The rogues that attacked us were vicious, and if they pose a threat to our territory as a whole...”
When Firepaw didn’t respond, Redtail sighed. “Firepaw, if BloodClan is looking for you – if you are still in contact with them –”
“No!” Firepaw blurted out. “No – never,” he continued, more calmly. “I want nothing to do with them.”
Redtail nodded. “I believe you,” he meowed soothingly. “But then, how did you get all the way to Tallpines before you were attacked? Why leave the group at all?”
Other questions hung in the air between them, unspoken. Who attacked you? Why did you answer when we called?
Why are you still alive?
Firepaw stepped back. “I can’t help you,” he meowed, summoning up all his experience from moons that had yet to pass. “I’m sorry. Don’t – don’t go looking for BloodClan. They’re –”
Images flashed in front of his eyes, of Whitestorm’s dead eyes and Cloudtail’s tattered fur and Tigerstar bleeding out nine times over, and he shuddered. All four clans had united, and still, it had barely been enough.
“Firepaw?” Redtail prompted.
Firepaw’s gaze snapped back to Redtail’s, Scourge’s sharp claws and blue eyes taunting him across time.
“He’s worse than Brokenstar.”
CHAPTER NOTES
Whichever of the Erins was responsible for the series timeline is cordially invited to duel me in a Denny's parking lot.
Hope you enjoyed! PLEASE leave me a comment below, I love hearing what my readers think. If you liked the chapter, check out my tumblr @smug-albatross where I make jokes and write for a bunch of fandoms. As always, Ouroboros is cross-posted on Ao3. |
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Non-binary
!Rowanfur
i love SEAGULLS and my GIRLFRIEND
Pronouns: they/them, he/him
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Post by !Rowanfur on Jun 8, 2019 13:41:25 GMT -5
you had me laughing at a few points! gosh, i know i say it every time, but your writing is just so vivid, and marvelous, and i'm always looking forward to the next chapter! keep it up!
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Post by copperfur on Jun 10, 2019 20:49:52 GMT -5
As usual with your chapters, I absolutely loved it. You're doing great. |
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 10, 2019 20:51:54 GMT -5
Thank you guys so much! I'm really enjoying this story - it's got a lot of twists and turns I didn't see while I was outlining it.
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Post by phantomstar57 on Jun 13, 2019 13:58:31 GMT -5
Finally got the chance to read and catch up on one of my favorite fan fics. You are staying true to canon, yet bringing new life and view into this, which as I can attest, is a difficult task. I am loving every word of it.
I await Chapter Nine. . .
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Nov 21, 2024 15:09:07 GMT -5
Nov 21, 2024 15:09:07 GMT -5