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Post by phantomstar57 on Jun 13, 2019 14:00:05 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 SmugGull on Jun 15, 2019 5:14:58 GMT -5
CHAPTER NINE
Firepaw spent most of his time these days avoiding Tigerclaw as much as possible. A pit seemed to open up in his stomach whenever he saw the great tabby warrior. Fortunately, his denmates seemed just as determined to keep Tigerclaw at a distance as he was – even Sandpaw.
Bluestar, though, was another matter.
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join together for a Clan meeting!”
“D’you think it’s about –?” Ravenpaw cut himself off as Tigerclaw slid out of the shadows on the other side of camp, his cold amber gaze sending a shiver down Firepaw’s spine.
“What else?” Firepaw answered gloomily.
Ravenpaw swallowed nervously. “I – well, if you just told the truth, then maybe –”
“And let Tigerclaw know?” Firepaw shook his head. “I didn’t tell him anything then, I’m definitely not going to tell him now.”
“Not the whole clan, then,” Ravenpaw amended. “But maybe... Bluestar? Or Redtail?”
Firepaw was silent as he weighed the possibilities. He didn’t trust Bluestar to believe him – or, if she did believe him, to stay sane afterwards. But maybe... maybe things would be different this time. She still had Lionheart, and Spottedleaf – and Redtail. Maybe that would be enough.
As for Redtail... everyone who had known him had spoken of him with kindness. He had been Dustpelt’s mentor, before Darkstripe, and Dustpelt – well, Dustpelt’s respect was hard-won. But Dustpelt had respected Redtail.
Maybe he should tell them. At least enough to get Tigerclaw out of ThunderClan (the odds were he’d go straight to ShadowClan after being exiled, just like he had last time – but he could deal with that, maybe Bluestar would even have an idea –)
Ravenpaw nudged him, jolting Firepaw out of his thoughts just as Bluestar began to speak.
“I’m sure most, if not all of you are aware of the miracle that took place only a few days ago,” she meowed. “One of our apprentices, young Firepaw, was found dead – murdered by rogues from the Twolegplace – and brought back to camp. His denmates sat vigil for him, but with the rising of the sun, Firepaw returned to life.”
Bluestar paused, waiting for someone to dispute her words. No one did – no one spoke at all.
“In light of this,” she meowed, “as well as his services to ThunderClan since he joined our ranks, and the rising tensions with RiverClan, I have seen fit to assign him a mentor. I shall take on Firepaw as my own apprentice.”
Several shocked meows cut through the crowd. “What an honor!” Greypaw hissed. “It’s been moons – you already know this, don’t you,” he added, seeing the dry expression on Firepaw’s face.
“Then he is to be rewarded?” Tigerclaw called out. “For dying at the claws of enemy cats?”
Dustpaw hissed angrily as murmurs swept through the assembled cats. Redtail’s voice rose above the rest. “Tigerclaw, what –”
Bluestar cut him off. “You yourself spoke of how bravely Firepaw fought, did you not?” she pointed out. (Firepaw must have missed this – also, since when did Tigerclaw pay him any compliments?) “He is a worthy apprentice and a worthy member of our clan.”
Tigerclaw dipped his head. “Of course. My apologies.”
Bluestar let the silence stretch for a few moments before addressing the clan as a whole. “There is still the matter of the rogues who attacked Firepaw,” she meowed. “Redtail, you followed their original trail. I want you to take a patrol to the Twolegplace and gather as much information on this group as you can. This will be your sole task for today – I will be expecting your return near sundown.”
Redtail dipped his head, glancing towards Tigerclaw. “Of course, Bluestar.”
“Furthermore,” she continued, “until the rogue threat has been dealt with, no cat is to leave the camp alone. That is all.”
Bluestar leaped down from the High Rock. The clan parted, dispersing into muttering groups. Firepaw was rooted to the spot.
“This is good, right?” Greypaw whispered. He nudged Firepaw reassuringly. “You’ve got a mentor now! A real mentor!”
“Right,” Firepaw murmured. “Of course.”
He should have known this was going to happen. He had known this was going to happen. He could deal with this.
(Maybe… maybe he could even tell Bluestar.)
Bluestar paused to exchange a few words with Tigerclaw. The massive tabby bowed his head, the picture of contrition, and Bluestar touched his flank reassuringly. Firepaw bit back a growl at the sight.
Lionheart called for Greypaw, who butted his shoulder reassuringly before padding after his mentor.
Firepaw watched him go, wishing he could follow. He tore his gaze away from Greypaw to see Bluestar standing in front of him.
“Come with me,” she meowed. “It is time we began your battle training properly.”
Firepaw followed her along the trail to the training hollow. This greenleaf was a drastically short one – it had only just begun, but Firepaw could already see a handful of leaves in the trees above beginning to turn color. The wind whipped about fiercely, tugging his pelt this way and that – Firepaw tasted the air every time it changed direction, but he caught no scents but his and Bluestar’s, and the occasional slow mouse.
“Tigerclaw is holding his training session in another part of the forest today,” Bluestar explained as she padded into the center of the hollow. “I want to concentrate on your fighting skills, and I want you to concentrate on them too – which means no distractions.”
Firepaw’s ears twitched. “Is Tigerclaw not part of Redtail’s patrol, then?”
Bluestar shook his head. “I believe Redtail is taking Whitestorm and Longtail with him.”
“Are Dustpaw and Sandpaw accompanying him?” Firepaw wanted to know.
“That is up to their mentors,” Bluestar meowed. “Now, you’ve had little occasion to fight since you’ve joined us, but I’ve seen you be quick against the fox and fierce in the battle against RiverClan and the fight with Longtail. You were clever in your training as well, and your mind is sharp.” She paused, then lowered her voice to an intense hiss. “But one day you will meet an opponent who is all of these things as well – quick and fierce and clever. It’s my duty to prepare you for that day.”
Firepaw nodded. She’d said the same thing last time.
Quick and fierce and clever, he thought, with no small trace of bitterness. You have no idea.
“Like Tigerclaw,” he suggested, keeping none of the bitterness out of his voice.
Bluestar nodded, apparently believing that his bitterness was levelled at the ‘rogues’ who had attacked him. “Indeed. Let’s see how you fight,” she meowed. “Attack me.”
Firepaw crouched, sweeping his gaze across Bluestar. She was larger than him by far (though not as large as Tigerclaw) – he couldn’t unbalance her by force alone.
He remembered Brightheart’s strategy, the way she wove back and forth to keep cats from slipping over to her blind side. Firepaw let his gaze fall towards Bluestar’s left side before swerving to the right, kicking out his hind legs to knock Bluestar’s front paws out from under her.
Bluestar hissed and staggered, but when Firepaw whirled around he saw her still on her feet. His heart sank a bit – he still wasn’t used to being so small and (at least comparatively) weak. Being younger might solve aching joints, but he also lost the sheer brawn and muscle of a full-grown cat.
“Good strategy,” she meowed, “but you don’t have the power to tackle me head-on. You’re strong, yes, but not that strong.”
Firepaw cursed inwardly. He should know that. Outwardly, he just nodded, sinking back into a crouch. A cat like Bluestar couldn’t be taken down with a single blow, not without the element of surprise (especially not by an apprentice). He tried the moves he’d used on Dustpaw during their first nighttime training session – he aimed a swipe at her head and, when she knocked it aside, hooked her other foreleg and slammed into her.
Bluestar staggered, scrambling to keep her footing. Firepaw gave her an extra shove and the ThunderClan leader went tumbling into the dirt with a hiss.
Firepaw took a few steps back and shook his head, panting. Apparently, he thought wryly, he wasn’t as well recovered as he’d thought.
Bluestar rose to her feet as a purr rumbled in her chest. “That was much better,” she meowed. “Now it’s my turn.”
She sprang at him, knocking him to the ground, then retreated and let him pick himself up before leaping again. Firepaw backed away, hissing – Bluestar advanced, matching him pawstep for pawstep. She leaped again – but this time, Firepaw wasn’t there when she landed. He shot forward like a hare, sliding under her belly and springing onto her back when she landed. She spat, dropping to her belly and rolling – Firepaw jumped free, aiming a swipe at her face before she could regain her feet.
He hissed when Bluestar’s hind legs kicked out, catching him in the chest, and backed away as she sprang to her feet, wheeling around to face. “Very good,” she praised. “But a downed warrior is not a helpless warrior.”
Firepaw nodded, rolling his shoulders to dispel the building aches in his muscles.
“I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be so experienced,” Bluestar meowed. “I expected you knew the basics, but I didn’t think you had such a grasp of the principles.”
Firepaw shrugged. “I had a good teacher,” he meowed, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice as he thought of his early moons – his true early moons when the first golden leaves had fallen and Bluestar had spent the entire day teaching him the ways of the ThunderClan warrior.
“Clearly,” Bluestar meowed, her eyes glowing with approval.
On the heels of those memories came ones of Bluestar’s last moons. He shook his head. “There’s always more to learn, though, isn’t there?”
Bluestar nodded. “Quite so. You’ve clearly mastered the basics – let’s see what else you know.”
They trained until the sun was high overhead. Bluestar kept pushing at Firepaw’s abilities, trying to find their limit, and Firepaw had a counter for nearly every attack she threw his way. Techniques and moves were all well and good, but adaptability was key. He’d tried to instill that in his denmates, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to focus on it before – well. Before they’d been… interrupted, to put it delicately.
Of course, nearly every attack wasn’t the same as every attack. Bluestar’s hind legs flashed out and caught Firepaw’s exposed side. Pain flashed through his body as he was flung backwards, and he crashed into the dirt with a hiss of pain. The growing aches in his muscles flared to roaring life and he lay winded, temporarily stunned into immobility and silence.
“Firepaw?” Bluestar’s worried face loomed over him. “Are you – ” She broke off, her eyes leaving his face to sweep over his body. “Your wounds. They’ve reopened.”
Firepaw lifted his head and saw that she was right – his pelt was stained with dark red patches from the numerous wounds Tigerclaw had inflicted on him days before. “Mouse dung,” he muttered, heaving himself to his feet with a wince. Ow. “It’ll probably stop in a moment – ”
“Don’t be absurd,” Bluestar said sharply. “You’re injured. Battle training can wait until you’re not bleeding all over the hollow.”
“‘m not bleeding all over the hollow,” Firepaw muttered, but he allowed Bluestar to support him with her shoulder and lead him back to camp. He shook her off as they neared, however – he was certainly not going to be carried into camp twice in a row. Bluestar huffed, but allowed it, calling out to Spottedleaf as they entered.
Greypaw bounded over immediately, yellow eyes wide and the fur on his spine beginning to bristle. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“It’s fine,” Firepaw assured him. “I just reopened a few scratches.” He frowned. “Weren’t you supposed to be training with Lionheart?”
Greypaw flicked his tail dismissively. “We went on sunhigh patrol, so now we’re eating. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked anxiously, nosing at Firepaw’s scruff.
Firepaw purred. “I’m fine, Greypaw,” he promised. “It’s nothing serious.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Spottedleaf meowed as she swept in, shooing Greypaw away and leading Firepaw and Bluestar into the medicine den.
Spottedleaf tsked as she looked him over. “Bluestar, I wouldn’t have thought I’d need to tell you that throwing a recently-healed apprentice into battle training is a bad idea, but apparently it needs to be said.”
Bluestar’s whiskers twitched. “He’s a fine fighter,” she meowed. “He’ll be a formidable warrior one day.”
“One day?” Firepaw blurted out, stung. “I was doing fine!”
“Until you were kicked halfway across the training hollow,” Bluestar pointed out dryly.
Spottedleaf meowed in exasperation as Firepaw huffed. “It’s not my fault the wounds decided to reopen,” he muttered.
Bluestar hummed. “Indeed,” she meowed. Something in her tone made Firepaw tense up. “Speaking of your wounds, I have some questions to ask you. I hope you won’t mind,” she added, obviously picking up on his tension. “It shouldn’t take long.”
Firepaw glanced at Spottedleaf, who was conveniently turned away, completely engrossed in her herb store. Traitor, he thought. “Of course, Bluestar. Ask away.”
Bluestar dipped her head and sat down next to him, wrapping her tail neatly over her paws. “How did you survive?” she meowed, watching him carefully. “When Tigerclaw brought you back to camp – ”
Firepaw flinched.
“ – even Spottedleaf believed you to be dead,” she finished. “And yet, here you stand – battered, but alive. How is that possible?”
Firepaw shuffled his paws awkwardly. “Er – StarClan works in mysterious ways…?”
Bluestar sighed. “Firepaw.”
Firepaw ducked his head, feeling like a kit caught sneaking out of the nursery. “Right, sorry. I…” He cast another look at Spottedleaf, but she was determinedly avoiding his gaze and he surrendered himself to the notion that she would be no help here. “I – well, I’ve been having these dreams. There’s a – a cat named Pinestar. And…”
Bluestar leaned forward. “Go on.”
Firepaw took a deep breath and eyed the opening of the den. “He brought me back from… well…”
“The dead?” Bluestar guessed, her tone understanding.
“No,” Firepaw admitted. “From, ah, the future.”
There was a sudden, soft thump as Spottedleaf dropped the herbs she was carrying in her jaws.
Bluestar blinked. “I… the future?”
Firepaw nodded. “The future,” he confirmed. “I was… I was a leader. StarClan granted me nine lives, and when Pinestar brought me back, they were… restored, somehow. I don’t think he was expecting it.”
“A leader,” Bluestar echoed.
Firepaw squirmed as Spottedleaf applied the last of the marigold and cobwebs – less from the sting of the herbs and more from the blank fixation of Bluestar’s gaze.
This was… so much bigger than Tigerclaw. What if he’d miscalculated? What if he’d only hastened her descent into decrepit insanity? What if –
“Thank you, Firepaw,” she meowed, and Firepaw nearly collapsed with relief. “I must think on what you’ve told me.”
With a jolt, Firepaw realized she still didn’t know about Tigerclaw. “Wait – ”
“Later, Firepaw,” Bluestar meowed firmly. “I must think.”
Firepaw faltered. “I… yes. Of course, Bluestar.”
Soon, he swore to her retreating back. I must tell you soon.
~~
Tigerclaw looked up from his fresh-kill, licking the last bits of sparrow from his lips as Bluestar approached.
“Tigerclaw,” she greeted, with the maternal warmth that had always turned his stomach. ThunderClan was made of warriors, not kits. Coddling would only get them killed when RiverClan finally grew bolder than Sunningrocks skirmishes.
“Bluestar,” he returned, trying to project enough warmth to match her own. “What can I do for you?”
Bluestar’s eyes clouded. Tigerclaw’s ears pricked up – anything that could get Bluestar worried was of interest to him. “That is an excellent question,” she murmured. “I need your advice on some… new developments. Yours and Lionheart’s,” she clarified, and Tigerclaw’s spirits dipped. The golden tabby warrior was almost as soft and idealistic as Bluestar – more so, in some cases. One only had to look at his apprentice Greypaw to see that.
Then again, he thought darkly, his thoughts turned to the skittish black shadow that had the audacity to call itself a clan cat, never mind his apprentice, perhaps one shouldn’t judge mentors by the quality of their apprentices.
He realized that Bluestar was waiting for a response and rose to his feet, dipping his head in acquiescence. “Of course,” he meowed. “I’m always happy to help.”
Bluestar’s eyes softened. “That’s what you do, isn’t it,” she murmured. “Help.”
Tigerclaw briefly contemplated just killing her on the spot but shook the impulse before it could form into anything more than a fleeting notion.
The moment passed. Bluestar flicked her tail. “Meet me in my den,” she meowed. “I will fetch Lionheart.”
And that was the job of an apprentice, not a senior warrior – much less a leader – but Tigerclaw just nodded again and padded towards the High Rock, slipping through the curtain of lichen into the leader’s den.
One day, this would be his place. The cats of ThunderClan would come here seeking his advice and strength, and the cats of other, lesser clans would crawl here on their bellies – if they lived long enough to beg for mercy, that is.
The lichen rustled behind him. Tigerclaw stepped aside as Bluestar entered, followed by Lionheart.
“Firepaw has informed me of some… rather disturbing news,” Bluestar meowed, circling around to settle into her nest.
Tigerclaw’s chest tightened, but he maintained a neutral expression. “Has he?”
“Indeed,” Bluestar meowed. “Both of you are, of course, aware of his miraculous recovery – you especially,” she added, nodding to Tigerclaw. “You sat vigil for him, did you not?”
Tigerclaw shrugged. Truthfully, he had wanted to ensure that the kittypet scrap stayed dead – he was surprisingly tenacious, and although he had confirmed that Tigerclaw was destined for leadership, the incident at Sunningrocks still unsettled him. More so, now – before, it had only been moments – the kittypet could have been stunned by the blows of the rocks. But now, it was certain: Firepaw lost lives the way leaders did. “It seemed like the right thing to do. He has no kin here.”
Bluestar inclined her head. “This is true,” she meowed. “And I believe he has revealed why.”
“Why?” Lionheart echoed. “We know why. He was a kittypet – a rogue, before that. He wasn’t clanborn.”
“He was sent to us,” Bluestar meowed. “By StarClan – by Pinestar.”
Tigerclaw couldn’t stop a growl from forcing its way out of his throat. “Pinestar?”
“Pinestar,” Bluestar confirmed, meeting his gaze steadily. “I’m well aware of your personal feelings, Tigerclaw. But if Firepaw was truly sent by StarClan – ”
“Who else could have done it?” Lionheart meowed. “Who else has that power?”
“The Dark Forest,” Tigerclaw rumbled.
Both Bluestar and Lionheart turned to him, shocked. Tigerclaw himself was a little surprised by this sudden stroke of genius – but what better way to discredit the loose end than to plant the idea that he was sent by StarClan’s antithesis?
“Think about it,” he meowed, warming to the theme. “He only returned once the stars had vanished – when StarClan’s eyes turned away from him.”
“That seems… far-fetched,” Lionheart meowed skeptically.
“So is a kittypet being sent by StarClan,” Tigerclaw shot back.
Bluestar looked troubled. Tigerclaw ruthlessly quashed the small flare of triumph in his chest. “You truly believe this?” she meowed.
“I didn’t want to,” Tigerclaw admitted. “But the same thing happened in the skirmish with RiverClan over Sunningrocks. He saved Oakheart’s life and was crushed by the rockfall in his stead.”
Bluestar’s ears pricked up. “He saved Oakheart’s life?”
Lionheart glanced at Tigerclaw. “It appears so.”
“The enemy,” Tigerclaw reminded her. She was entirely too soft on RiverClan. “He abandoned his post at Redtail’s side to do so.”
Bluestar wavered. “Yes, I… I suppose that’s true.” She shook herself. “Lionheart?”
The golden tabby shrugged. “I don’t believe StarClan would allow the Dark Forest to move so openly and so blatantly without sending so much as a sign,” he meowed. “And he’s a good cat – he’ll be a fine warrior. Hardly an instrument of evil.”
“Now, perhaps,” Tigerclaw pointed out. “But what about after he becomes a warrior? The cats of the Dark Forest seek the destruction of all the clans. I doubt there’s any cat there who wouldn’t trade their pelts for an agent in ThunderClan.”
“You forget that Pinestar is the one who sent him back,” Lionheart argued. “Pinestar was a fine leader and a good cat – ”
“He abandoned his clan,” Tigerclaw snapped back. “He turned his back on his duty and slunk off to live in the Twolegplace as a kittypet.” He sneered the last word. “Why would StarClan welcome him amongst their ranks?”
“One mistake is not enough to condemn cat,” Bluestar pointed out. “If it were, StarClan would be empty, and the Dark Forest would be full to bursting.”
“Abandoning one’s kin is hardly one mistake,” Tigerclaw said stiffly.
A troubled look flickered over Bluestar’s face. “Perhaps,” she murmured. “But perhaps not.” She flicked her tail. “Lionheart, you may go. I wish to speak to Tigerclaw further.”
Lionheart dipped his head and exited the den, leaving Tigerclaw alone with Bluestar.
“You don’t agree with me?” Tigerclaw asked.
Bluestar didn’t respond right away. “I think your feelings about your father are clouding your judgment,” she meowed. “But I also think you have this clan’s best interests at heart. Keep an eye on young Firepaw. If you are right, he is the deadliest threat we have ever faced. If you are wrong, there is something coming that not even StarClan can warn us of.”
Tigerclaw dipped his head. “Of course, Bluestar. You can count on me.”
 CHAPTER NOTES
Once again, it's all going straight down the drain. Firepaw is still a goober, Tigerclaw is still a trashman.
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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Post by SmugGull on Jun 20, 2019 16:08:08 GMT -5
Quick chapter 10 preview -
Hope y'all enjoyed the last chapter!
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 21, 2019 22:59:54 GMT -5
CHAPTER TEN
Firepaw was sharing a mouse with Greypaw when Redtail’s patrol returned to camp. It was just past sundown, and all five cats looked exhausted. Longtail headed straight for the warrior’s den, while Whitestorm picked a sparrow from the fresh-kill pile and joined Lionheart near the nettle patch where the senior warriors ate.
Sandpaw and Dustpaw flopped down next to Firepaw and Greypaw with a mouse apiece. “My paws are going to fall off,” Dustpaw moaned. “How do kittypets stand walking on that stuff?”
Firepaw mrrowed with amusement, his eyes following Redtail as the older cat ducked into Bluestar’s den. “Practice,” he meowed, thinking of Cherrytail’s tough grey pads and how much trouble he’d had clambering around SkyClan’s gorge. “Did you find anything?”
Sandpaw shook her head. “Just some old rogues complaining about how much better things were when Jay was around. Jay this Jay that – I don’t suppose that name means anything to you?”
Firepaw severely doubted it was a Jay related to his grandson (the thought sent a pang through his heart – he had a soft spot for foul-tempered medicine cats, it seemed, especially ones that scrunched up their faces like aging elders when they were two moons old) and shook his head. “No, nothing. It sounds like she was the leader of the Twolegplace cats, though.” A thought triggered in his head and he frowned. “Do you know how she died?” Did Scourge kill her?
Dustpaw shrugged. “Nobody said. They weren’t exactly talkative though.” He snorted. “Who knew Twolegplace cats had backbones?”
Firepaw regarded him silently for a moment before getting to his feet. “I think I’ll turn in early. Good night Greypaw, Ravenpaw. Good night Sandpaw.”
As he padded towards the apprentice den, he heard Dustpaw meowing in confusion behind him. He had almost slipped inside when he heard the meows of playful kits and stumbled back just in time to avoid trodding on two balls of fluff – one golden-brown and tabby-striped, the other dark gray and vibrating with energy.
Firepaw purred. “Hello there, little apprentices. Did you have your ceremonies already?”
Cinderkit puffed up immediately. “Not yet!” she meowed. “Mama says we still have to wait another whole moon.”
“It’s the warrior code,” Brackenkit mumbled. “We gotta wait until six moons.”
Firepaw purred. “Very good. You’ll be fine warriors someday, as quick as you learn.”
Brackenkit puffed up almost as much as his sister.
“Brackenkit! Cinderkit!” Frostfur hurried over. “Come away from there, don’t bother the apprentices!” She shot an apologetic glance at Firepaw as she curled her tail around her kits.
“They’re wonderful kits,” Firepaw said warmly. “I’m sure they’ll be fine warriors.” I’ll make sure of it, he vowed, glancing at Cinderkit. I’ll make sure you have every chance in the world.
“Of course they will,” Frostfur agreed, but her gaze softened. “Thank you, Firepaw.”
“Of course,” Firepaw meowed easily. “Have you eaten yet, by the way?”
Frostfur blinked. “Oh – yes, Ravenpaw brought us some fresh-kill earlier. The elders as well.”
Firepaw dipped his head as Frostfur herded her kits back to the nursery. Firepaw’s gaze followed her, and he saw three more fuzzy faces peering out of the den – one white-and-ginger, one golden-brown, and one black-and-white.
Brightheart, he realized. Thornclaw. And…
His heart ached as the last face disappeared. Swiftpaw. Brave, fierce, eager Swiftpaw, gone too soon.
Not this time, he promised himself. This time, Swiftpaw was going to earn his warrior name and live a long, proud life – and Cinderpelt would never go near the Thunderpath. Brightheart would never hear the name Lostface.
If he could save no one else, he could save those kits. His friends.
~~
That night, he dreamed.
Firestar awoke in Pinestar’s clearing, annoyance already rising in his chest as the headache that had been pestering him since he spoke to Bluestar that afternoon grew steadily worse. “What is now?” he groaned, unable to keep the whine out of his voice.
“Don’t be cross with me,” Pinestar muttered, appearing at his shoulder. “I tried to talk them out of it, but I was out-voted.”
Firestar’s pelt prickled. “Talk them out of what?”
“It was agreed, Pinestar.” Heatherstar’s voice echoed out of the mist as she stepped forward. “You are too close to the issue at hand.”
“And what, exactly,” Firestar cut in frostily, “is the issue at hand?”
“You have not kept your promises.” Hailstar appeared next to her, his yellow eyes cold and cutting.
Firestar blinked. “Promises?” he echoed.
“Two RiverClan kits drowned in the last quarter-moon,” Hailstar meowed. “We could have sent a warning if we had been able to foresee it. You did nothing.”
“I didn’t – ”
“Didn’t what?” Raggedstar snapped from Heatherstar’s other side. “Didn’t know? That’s exactly the problem. You don’t know anything about the other clans.” He shook his massive head. “It’s a risk we can’t take.”
Firestar’s fur stood on end. He dropped into a defensive crouch and hissed – if StarClan wanted him gone, after bringing him here, they’d have to make a fight out of it –
Heatherstar raised her tail. “Peace, Firestar. We mean you no harm. But your knowledge of the future comes at too great a cost for the forest to bear. A WindClan apprentice was mauled by dogs because I could not send a warning. She will not survive. RiverClan lost two kits to the water. Even ShadowClan struggles under the onslaught of carrionplace rats.”
“There must be another way,” Pinestar protested. “He’s done so much good already – he’s saved Redtail and Oakheart, prepared ThunderClan’s apprentices for what lies ahead –”
“But at what cost?” Hailstar meowed, shaking his head. “No, Pinestar. There must be balance. Sunstar understands this.”
Pinestar swung his head around, shock widening his eyes, as Sunstar stepped out of the mists. “You –?”
“I did,” Sunstar agreed, eyes sorrowful. “I am sorry, Pinestar – but the forest needs four clans, not just ThunderClan.”
Firestar lashed his tail. “Don’t act like I’m not here,” he spat. “What are you planning? What have you done?”
“Your future memories are preventing us from seeing clearly,” Heatherstar meowed. She looked to Raggedstar.
The massive tom’s amber gaze bored into Firestar’s. “So we removed them.”
Before Firestar could yowl his protests, the trees closed in around him. The ground gave way beneath him and he fell, fell, fell…
Until the darkness claimed him.
~~
Firepaw woke up with a yowl, flailing desperately as his paws became tangled in the moss. “What did you do?” he wailed.
Something warm pressed into his side – someone was licking the top of his head, murmuring soothing words.
Slowly, he settled, still panting. “Greypaw?” he croaked weakly. His voice felt like it had been ripped out by foxes and his fur felt like it was on – well, on fire.
“It’s me,” Greypaw assured him.
Firepaw opened his jaws to respond, but before he could, Sandpaw’s hiss cut through the air.
“What in StarClan’s name is wrong with you?” she spat. As far as Firepaw could tell, she was curled up in the back of the den, somewhere out of sight. He reached for the memory of their life before, the first time around –
– and was met with a resounding blank.
They… they had daughters. He was almost certain they had daughters, and grandkits, but he couldn’t remember anything about them – there was a Jay (a Jayfeather, the medicine cat, he could remember remembering him), a gentle Leaf… something, a Lionblaze, a Squirrel...paw? He couldn’t remember a warrior name – and a Hollyleaf that had reminded him of Sand – Sandstorm. He remembered knowing this after he’d come back, but he couldn’t actually remember them.
“What’s happening to me?” he rasped, searching Greypaw’s gaze for answers.
Greypaw stared back. “Um,” he meowed uncertainly, “did you eat? Should I get you something?”
“Water,” Firepaw rasped.
“I’ll get Spottedleaf,” Ravenpaw meowed, darting out of the den.
Firepaw nodded gratefully and slumped back into his nest, closing his eyes as Greypaw continued to lap at his forehead.
“StarClan is full of fools,” Pinestar murmured in his ear. “I will do what I can. Be strong, Firestar.”
“Pinestar?” Firepaw rasped. “Wait –”
“Firepaw?”
Firepaw’s ears twitched as Spottedleaf’s voice drifted into the den, accompanied by the faint rustle of grass and Ravenpaw’s scent. “Still here,” he managed, trying to turn his head to greet Spottedleaf properly. But his neck had stiffened sometime during the night and he could barely turn it enough to see Ravenpaw, crouched in his nest next to Firepaw’s.
“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” Spottedleaf meowed, ushering Greypaw to the side. She sniffed at Firepaw. “You must be burning up,” she murmured sympathetically. “You have a nasty fever. Ravenpaw, could you fetch some moss soaked in water? There should be some moss in my den.”
Firepaw huffed a weak agreement as Ravenpaw darted off. “Feeling?” he asked, not sure what she was after.
“I need to know what’s hurting you,” Spottedleaf explained.
Oh. Well, that made sense. “My head,” he meowed. “And my neck. Throat. Both.”
Spottedleaf nodded and pressed a paw gently against his chest. “Can you cough for me?”
Firepaw coughed obediently. The action scraped his already-sore throat raw and he had to bite back a whimper. Suddenly, he wished Yellowfang was here – but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of why, or even who, exactly, Yellowfang was.
Spottedleaf hummed as she removed her paw. “Well, the good news is that you don’t have greencough.” A sigh of relief swept through the den. “I’ll fetch some borage and feverfew for you. Greypaw, could you help him to my den?”
Greypaw meowed an agreement just as a terrified yelp sounded from the camp. Firepaw immediately tried to climb to his paws, but it took Greypaw’s sturdy shoulder to keep him upright. “Ravenpaw –”
Spottedleaf had already disappeared into the clearing. As Greypaw helped Firepaw forwards, Firepaw saw her stalking towards Tigerclaw, who was towering over a petrified Ravenpaw.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, planting herself in front of the massive warrior. “Don’t you have better things to do than terrorize your apprentice in the middle of the night?”
“I’m disciplining him,” Tigerclaw responded icily. “We can’t have apprentices running off in the middle of the night. Or have you forgotten what happened last time?”
Firepaw flinched, pressing himself closer against Greypaw’s thick fur. Greypaw licked his ears. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured. “We’re almost there.”
“Hardly,” Spottedleaf meowed coolly. “But I have a sick patient. So, if you don’t mind, I sent Ravenpaw to collect some water from the river.”
Tigerclaw blinked. “A patient?” he echoed. “Who? One of the apprentices, I assume.” His gaze cut across to land squarely on Firepaw. “Ah. I see. Our newcomer.”
“Is your curiosity satisfied?” Spottedleaf meowed tartly. “Ravenpaw, go. Run swiftly.”
Ravenpaw darted off immediately, leaving Tigerclaw and Spottedleaf to stare each other down as Greypaw and Firepaw finally made it into the medicine den. Firepaw sank into the nearest nest with a sigh of relief.
Greypaw circled him anxiously. “Do you need anything?” he meowed worriedly. “I mean, aside from water. Fresh-kill?” he offered, bouncing nervously from one foot to another.
Firepaw shook his head. “Don’t think I could eat if I wanted to,” he murmured.
“Can’t eat?” Greypaw echoed, no small amount of alarm in his voice. “But –”
“Thank you, Greypaw.” Spottedleaf’s voice still held a twinge of irritation as she entered the den. “That will be all. Why don’t you return to your den?”
Greypaw startled, but, with one last glance at Firepaw, darted out of the den.
Spottedleaf sighed as she padded over to the herb stores. Within moments, she had returned with a mouthful of herbs and set them down in front of Firepaw. “Here,” she meowed. “Eat these. Borage and feverfew to bring down your fever and a poppy seed to help you rest and recover. The feverfew will also help with your headache.”
Firepaw sniffed at the herbs before chewing them obediently. Swallowing made him wince, but he managed it. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for doing my job,” Spottedleaf purred. “Have you experienced any other symptoms recently? Or can you think of what might have caused this?”
Firepaw blinked. “I – well, I had a headache yesterday, but I didn’t think much of it.” His breathing hitched. “And I can’t... did I tell you about my daughters?”
“From the future?” Spottedleaf guessed. “No. You never mentioned them to me.”
“My daughters,” Firepaw murmured. “I can’t... I can’t remember their names. I can’t remember anything about them. I know they exist, I remember that I used to remember them, but...”
Spottedleaf laid her tail over Firepaw’s shoulder. “I am sorry,” she murmured. “Do you know what’s causing this?”
“StarClan,” Firepaw rasped. “I had a dream – they said my memories were blocking their sight and –” He broke off as a wave of pain wracked his body. “They must have taken them.”
“I am sorry,” Spottedleaf repeated. “I am sure they had their reasons – StarClan works in mysterious ways –”
Firepaw snorted. “So mysterious that StarClan doesn’t even know what StarClan is doing.”
“Hey,” Pinestar meowed indignantly.
“Oh, shut up,” Firepaw murmured, drifting into a dreamless sleep.
~~
Firepaw’s fever raged for days. Greypaw fretted the entire time – Lionheart noticed because of course he did.
“I’m sure Firepaw will be fine,” he meowed, laying his tail over Greypaw’s flank. “He is young and strong, and Spottedleaf is a fine medicine cat.”
“But he didn’t even want to eat,” Greypaw meowed in distress. “How can a cat not want to eat?”
Lionheart hummed. “I’ve seen it happen,” he meowed. “It’s not unheard of for sick cats to lose their appetite.”
Greypaw wasn’t reassured. “What happened to the sick cats who didn’t eat?” He hesitated. “Did… did they die?”
“Some,” Lionheart admitted. “The very young and the elders, primarily. Firepaw is not so vulnerable as that. He’s a strong young apprentice, and Spottedleaf is a skilled medicine cat. I do not think StarClan will call him just yet.”
“Maybe,” Greypaw meowed doubtfully.
“Have faith,” Lionheart repeated, not unkindly. “But I believe that we’ve done enough training. Let’s return to camp – and don’t forget your sparrow,” he added, whiskers twitched. “You can see if Firepaw has an appetite again.”
At that, Greypaw brightened. He bounded ahead of Lionheart, making a beeline for the medicine den as soon as he got back to camp.
“Hi, Spottedleaf!” he meowed, trying not to trip over his paws as he nearly ran full-tilt into the medicine cat. “Is Firepaw awake?”
Spottedleaf nodded. “He is indeed.” She eyed the sparrow in his mouth. “Is that for him?”
Greypaw nodded. “I thought maybe his appetite would be better?”
Spottedleaf sighed. “No worse, at least, but I don’t think I’d call it better. He’s having trouble keeping food down.” Her eyes glimmered with worry. “If you don’t mind keeping him company, I need to gather more borage. His fever is still high.”
Greypaw’s ears flattened. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” he meowed quietly.
“I have my suspicions,” she admitted. “But I think it’s best not to share them yet.”
Greypaw tried not to shriek in frustration as Spottedleaf padded off, leaving him to duck into medicine den. It had been almost a quarter-moon since Firepaw had woken up sick and screaming. She had to know!
A horrible thought seized him. What if it was something really terrible and she couldn’t do anything about it?
Inside the medicine den, Firepaw lifted his head. “Greypaw?” he rasped. “Are you done with training already?”
Greypaw nodded, padding over to his friend and settling down next to him in the nest. Firepaw leaned back against him and Greypaw shifted himself around so his head was resting on Firepaw’s shoulder. His sparrow lay next to Firepaw’s head. “Spottedleaf said you still weren’t eating?”
Firepaw chuckled rustily. “I tried,” he assured Greypaw. “It didn’t take.”
Greypaw mrrowed unhappily. “Did you manage to keep anything down?”
“The herbs,” Firepaw admitted. “Some honey. I think most of the mouse was a lost cause, though.”
Tired silence stretched between them. Firepaw dozed on and off in short bursts, often waking up with a whimper or a cry.
“What do you see?” Greypaw asked. “When you dream, I mean.”
Firepaw nosed into Greypaw’s fur. “Cats, usually. I should know them, but… the only one I recognize is Pinestar. I think he’s trying to help, but,” Firepaw sighed. “It’s not working.”
Greypaw nodded and began grooming Firepaw’s fur absently. As he worked – at a loss for what else to do – he told Firepaw everything that Firepaw had told him when he’d first told Greypaw all about the future. He talked about Sandpaw’s weird theories from before she’d found out about the truth.
“You know she thought you were from RiverClan at first?” he meowed, trying to smooth down a particularly stubborn patch of fur on Firepaw’s flank.
Firepaw laughed. “Really?”
Then he tensed under Greypaw’s tongue. “Wait – Greypaw, where is Sandpaw now?”
Greypaw blinked. “Um… I’m not sure. Probably training with Whitestorm?”
“Right,” Firepaw murmured. “When she’s finished… could you ask her to come?”
Greypaw blinked again. “I – yeah, sure,” he meowed, deciding that it was probably a safer option than trying to figure out whatever Firepaw was thinking. “Do you need anything else?”
Firepaw shook his head. “Nothing comes to mind. Thanks for coming by.”
“Of course.” Greypaw rose to his feet, nudging the sparrow a little closer. “Try and eat something if you can, okay?” he meowed, not even trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
“I will,” Firepaw promised. He flicked his tail. “Get going. You still need to eat, and I bet Lionheart has way more training for you to do tomorrow.”
Greypaw purred. “I hope so! I’ve almost got the bird-hunting technique down.”
Firepaw purred back. “Looks like you’ve already got a handle on it,” he meowed, flicking an ear towards the sparrow Greypaw had brought. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course!” Greypaw meowed, then padded out of the den to go wait for Sandpaw.
He found Ravenpaw crouched over a mouse near the apprentices’ den, eyes darting about nervously.
“Hi,” Greypaw meowed, taking a seat next to him. “How was training?”
Ravenpaw shuffled his paws. “Oh, you know,” he meowed evasively, “same as usual. Tigerclaw sent me hunting near Thunderpath.”
Greypaw nodded. “Lionheart had me near Tallpines,” he meowed. “There was this huge blackbird...”
The pair swapped training stories as the sun fell towards the horizon. More than once, Greypaw found himself glancing towards the medicine den, wondering how Firepaw was doing. Spottedleaf had come back with a mouthful of herbs after only a short time and sent Dustpaw bounding out into the forest after he poked his head in.
Brackenkit had tried to sneak into the medicine den, only to be ushered away by Frostfur. Greypaw had been surprised to see Frostfur speaking with Spottedleaf a short while later, her kits winding around her ankles. Spottedleaf had nodded to whatever Frostfur was saying and with a meow from the white-furred queen they had darted off towards the fresh-kill pile and started squabbling over which mouse was the best. Personally, Greypaw thought Brackenkit had chosen the best one (and not just because Greypaw had been the one to catch it) but Cinderkit was the most vocal and overrode her siblings.
Carrying their trophy, the four kits raced off towards the medicine den. They must be visiting Firepaw, he realized with a jolt. He hadn’t realized his friend had made any real impression on the inhabitants of the clan’s nursery.
Ravenpaw had been watching them as well. “I think Frostfur likes him,” he meowed, finishing off his mouse and stealing a bite of Greypaw’s squirrel. “He was extra-nice to her kits the other day, and since he doesn’t have any kin in the clan...”
“Willowpelt always said Frostfur was the mothering type,” Greypaw agreed absently. His ears twitched as he instinctively looked around for his mother. He found her relaxing in the sun with a couple of other warriors, sharing tongues with Whitestorm. A thought struck him. “I wonder if Firepaw knew Frostfur’s kits last time?”
“He must have,” Ravenpaw murmured. “Wouldn’t he?”
Greypaw hummed in agreement, then blinked. If Whitestorm was here –
“Mouse dung!” he hissed. “I was supposed to talk to Sandpaw – quick, do you see her anywhere?”
Ravenpaw blinked up at him, startled. “I – um –”
Nerves made Greypaw fur fluff up. Hastily, he scanned the camp for Tigerclaw, fearing the worst (that he’d decided to do the same to her that he had to Firepaw), but to his relief, he spotted the massive warrior lounging in the shade, not far away from the medicine den.
Come to think of it, he’d spent a lot of time near the medicine den the past few days.
Greypaw shook himself. He could worry about that later – for now, he needed to find Sandpaw. If she wasn’t in camp, then...
He started for the entrance, already half-thinking of a reason to justify going out so close to sundown when Lionheart stopped him.
“Where are you going?” the golden warrior asked sternly, looking disapproving.
All of Greypaw’s excuses melted away like early morning dew. “I – um – I was going to go look for Sandpaw?”
“Sandpaw?” Lionheart tilted his head. “May I ask why?”
“It’s just –” Greypaw shuffled his paws, feeling a little embarrassed. “Well, Firepaw wanted to talk to here, and Whitestorm’s in camp, but I couldn’t find her, so –”
Lionheart, mercifully, cut him off with an approving purr. “I see,” he meowed. “Well, I believe Whitestorm sent her on a hunting assignment with Mousefur to oversee.”
“Mousefur?” Greypaw echoed. “But she’s barely a warrior!”
“She’s seen three leaf-bares,” Lionheart reminded him. “She’s ready for an apprentice of her own and Frostfur’s litter will be ready to be apprenticed soon. I believe Whitestorm thought it would be good practice.”
“I suppose,” Greypaw conceded, looking back up at Lionheart. Suddenly, he itched to confess everything – Firepaw’s sudden memory loss, his being sent back from the future, his suffering at Tigerclaw’s claws – all of it. And when he looked into Lionheart’s eyes, he almost imagined he could see the same longing reflected back at him.
The entrance to the camp rustled. Both cats looked over – it was Dustpaw, holding a mouthful of leaves. He paused, glancing between the two of them, before stepping around them and heading for the medicine den.
Greypaw turned back to the apprentice den, where Ravenpaw still sat and was now washing his paws clean. “I guess I’ll just talk to her when she gets back.”
“That would be best,” Lionheart agreed.
~~
Redtail watched as Lionheart’s apprentice padded despondently back into camp. Lionheart watched him go for a moment, then returned to Redtail’s side, taking a bite out of the rabbit they were sharing.
“So,” Redtail meowed, more for curiosity’s sake than anything else, “what was that about?”
Lionheart frowned. “Apparently, Firepaw wants to speak to Sandpaw.”
Redtail blinked. “Sandpaw? Did he say why?”
Lionheart shook his head. “No. But if he’s told her the truth – assuming what he says is the truth –”
Redtail was skeptical on that point. Bluestar had told him everything that had happened while his patrol was in the Twolegplace, searching for the rogues that had attacked Firepaw. But it was odd... the Twolegplace cats – rogues and kittypets alike – hadn’t known who Firepaw was (aside from a white-chested brown tabby who had called him ‘Rusty’), and the scents hadn’t matched the ones Redtail had found that night.
“– then perhaps, since Spottedleaf told us he’s losing his memories of the future, he’s hoping speaking to Sandpaw would bring them back,” Lionheart concluded. “Redtail?”
Redtail blinked. “What?”
Lionheart sighed. “I was saying –”
“No, I heard you,” Redtail assured him. “I was just... cloud-gathering. You think they knew each other?”
He knew it was a mouse-brained question as soon as he said it – Lionheart’s silent reproach thickened the air between them until the older warrior spoke again.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Lionheart meowed. “They’re roughly the same age, after all. They likely trained and patrolled together. I wouldn’t be entirely shocked if they became friendly.”
Friendly. A little, incredulous thread wormed its way into Redtail’s thoughts. Spottedleaf had told them that Firepaw had mentioned having daughters in the future. What if – no. No, absolutely not. He wasn’t going to think about it.
In a desperate attempt for another topic of discussion, Redtail let his thoughts fly around in his head before seizing on a promising one. “Not to change the subject,” he said, lying, “but has Bluestar spoken to you about what happened with the rogues?”
Lionheart shook his head. “No. Why?”
Redtail glanced across camp to where Tigerclaw was stretched out in the sun. He ended up staring longer than he meant to, entranced by the ripple of muscles under Tigerclaw’s pelt as the massive tabby shifted in place, but tore his gaze back to Lionheart within (he thought) a reasonable amount of time.
Lionheart’s visible amusement disagreed with him, but Redtail elected to ignore that little fact.
“The only cat who recognized Firepaw in the Twolegplace was a pampered kittypet,” he meowed. “She called him ‘Rusty’ – I think they were littermates, actually.” When Lionheart didn’t speak, he continued. “That’s not to say there weren’t rogues in the Twolegplace – there always are – but from what we gathered they recently lost their leader. Hardly in a place to go attacking clan cats.”
“Perhaps they blame Firepaw for their leader’s death,” Lionheart suggested.
Redtail shook his head. “If that were true, they’d know his name. Besides,” he added – and this was really the most damning part – “when I was tracking Firepaw that night, I didn’t smell any rogues. Or any other clan scents. It was just ThunderClan.”
Lionheart’s eyes narrowed. “Which cats?”
“Firepaw, naturally.” Redtail glanced towards the medicine den again. “And Tigerclaw.”
CHAPTER NOTES
Redtail does, in fact, have more than two brain cells to rub together.
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 21, 2019 23:27:30 GMT -5
oh my gooood im on the edge of my freakin seat!!!
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 22, 2019 0:06:44 GMT -5
Ehehehehehehe things are Happening and it's an absolute delight to write.
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Post by copperfur on Jun 24, 2019 22:04:24 GMT -5
Redtail, I'd stop right there. Go any further and something bad's gonna happen, I can feel it.
Great job yet again. Love this story to bits.
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 24, 2019 22:30:04 GMT -5
Aww, thank you so much!
Are you referring to his train of thought about Sandpaw or Tigerclaw? (:<
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Post by phantomstar57 on Jun 25, 2019 14:30:55 GMT -5
Finally got to catch up. Great job and I am hooked :-)
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Post by copperfur on Jun 25, 2019 20:28:24 GMT -5
Tigerclaw.
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 25, 2019 20:34:44 GMT -5
(:<
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Post by SmugGull on Jun 29, 2019 0:17:50 GMT -5
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hunting with Mousefur was exhausting – the lean she-cat was a stern taskmaster. Sandpaw felt like her paws were about to fall off. But she held her tail high as she trotted into camp carrying her bounty – two mice and a squirrel, with Mousefur carrying the two birds she’d caught. Also dangling from her mouth was a small but fat rabbit – her prize catch of the day.
“Not bad,” Mousefur meowed as she tossed the birds onto the fresh-kill pile. “Pick something out and take a break. If the queens and elders haven’t been fed, do that first.”
Sandpaw dipped her head, hiding a groan. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her nest and sleep until sunhigh tomorrow – but if the queens and elders needed feeding, then fine. It was part of her duties, after all.
She set her catches down on the pile, save for the squirrel she’d caught, and began to head towards the nursery, when she was cut off by a wall of grey tabby fur.
“Watch it!” she spat, nearly dropping her squirrel. “Greypaw, you mouse-brain –”
“Sorry,” Greypaw panted, shaking himself. “Firepaw –”
Sandpaw cut him off. “Is he alive?”
Greypaw blinked. “Um, yes –”
“Then I don’t care.” Fine, maybe Firepaw was from the future – but that didn’t mean she had to like it. And he wasn’t exactly being helpful, lying around moaning in the medicine den.
“Wait!” Greypaw yelped. “He wants to talk to you.”
“That’s nice,” Sandpaw tried to step around Greypaw, but found him blocking her path once again. She hissed. “What is your problem? I’m supposed to feed the queens!”
“I’ll do it,” Greypaw offered quickly. “Just – go talk to him? Please?”
Sandpaw paused. That… was an offer worth considering. And it would probably take less time to talk to Firepaw than to do her chores. “Elders too,” she meowed.
“Done,” Greypaw said immediately.
Sandpaw promptly dropped the squirrel at Greypaw feet and made a beeline for the medicine den. Greypaw mumbled something behind her. She ignored him completely – he’d made the bargain and now he was stuck with it.
She shouldered her way into the medicine den, padding over nest that was currently occupied by her ginger denmate. “Hey,” she meowed awkwardly.
Firepaw raised his head. Sandpaw was struck by how frail he looked – she hadn’t actually seen him since he’d woken up half the camp with his yowling and been dragged off by Spottedleaf. He hardly looked like a warrior at all – or even an apprentice. More like a particularly scrawny squirrel.
“Sandpaw,” he rasped. “Did Greypaw find you?”
She flicked her tail. “He’s doing my chores to make up for it.”
Firepaw coughed. Maybe it was supposed to be a laugh. “Sounds about right.” He pulled his front legs underneath him and rested his paws on his chin. “I’ve told you about the future, right? The one I come from?”
Sandpaw nodded.
Firepaw hesitated. “This is going to be… awkward to admit, but since I’ve gotten sick… something has been blocking my memories.”
Sandpaw blinked. “… something. Blocking your memories.”
Firepaw sounded peeved. “Apparently.” He flicked his ear. “But I can’t remember details. Greypaw told me you had theories on where I came from, before you found out. I was hoping you might have some theories on the future?”
Theories on the future. Well, okay. This was… interesting. She settled back on her haunches and tipped her head sideways. “What kind of theories?”
“Anything.”
Well okay then. What had he told her? He’d spoken about Tigerclaw’s treachery (which she was pretty sold on, especially after he’d disappeared and come back… well, dead) and his time as leader (which she was convinced of). Actually getting sent back by StarClan was still a sticking point – she wasn’t totally convinced that her warrior ancestors hadn’t just tossed him down into the forest with a bunch of prophecies crammed into his head – and why he’d kept his nine lives she didn’t even want to think about.
“Well,” she meowed slowly. “You talked about a lake a lot. Maybe you journey there at some point. Like a quest.”
“A quest,” Firepaw repeated. “I… maybe. It rings a bell, but I can’t remember any details.”
“Well, maybe it’s part of the reason you were sent back here,” Sandpaw offered, a little awkwardly. “Maybe you did it wrong.”
Firepaw laugh was interrupted by a coughing fit. “Well, I did something wrong, clearly. I –”
Whatever Firepaw had been about to say was lost in another fit of coughing that brought Spottedleaf sweeping over. Sandpaw was shooed out of the den as the pretty tortoiseshell medicine cat immediately began to fuss.
Sandpaw rolled her eyes as she looked around for Whitestorm. Maybe she should tell him – okay, not the whole truth (or the truth as Firepaw presented it) but. Some of it. He would know what to do – he was good at knowing things like that.
She padded over to the nettle patch where the senior warriors usually ate their fresh-kill, but paused as she grew closer. Whitestorm wasn’t by the nettle patch - Lionheart and Redtail were there, deep in discussion, but it took her a moment of looking around before she saw Whitestorm speaking to Bluestar near the leader’s den. She padded towards them, only to freeze when she heard what they were talking about.
“...worried about Firepaw,” Bluestar murmured. “I know Tigerclaw has his own biases regarding him, but what if he’s onto something? He’s been sick for days – even Spottedleaf doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. And Firepaw claims it’s StarClan’s doing.”
Sandpaw blinked. StarClan’s doing? He’d made it sound like he had no idea what was causing it, and all this time it was StarClan? And he’d known?
Why would he lie about that?
“Firepaw claims it?” Whitestorm tilted his head. “I don’t know why he’d lie about something like that. If anything, I expect he’d try and cover it up.”
He did! That sack of mouse-dung –
“My thoughts exactly,” Bluestar meowed. Her voice lowered, and Sandpaw had to strain her ears to hear. “Of course... we have to have to consider the alternative.”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Whitestorm murmured back. “He has done nothing to harm the clan, Bluestar.”
“You’re right,” Bluestar agreed. “But nonetheless – if it is the Dark Forest who sent him, I want to be prepared.”
Whitestorm nodded. “Have you considered transferring his mentorship?” he said tentatively. “If you think he’s dangerous –”
“Then I will handle him myself,” Bluestar interrupted. “I won’t ask my warriors to deal with a threat I won’t face myself.”
Whitestorm dipped his head. “Of course, Bluestar.”
Sandpaw retreated hastily, before either her leader or her mentor could see her. Her mind was reeling – they thought Firepaw could be from the Dark Forest? And – he’d lied about StarClan blocking his memories. Sandpaw didn’t believe he was from the actual Dark Forest – it wasn’t like he’d done anything against the clan, after all. The most questionable thing he’d done was teach the apprentices how to fight after dark.
...and save the RiverClan deputy, but. Saving lives wasn’t a crime.
Still, if he was lying about StarClan blocking his memories, what else was he lying about?
~~
As the moon rose in the sky, Spottedleaf watched Bluestar disappear into her den, troubled.
Bluestar had always been prone to suspicion, but suspecting Firepaw to be an agent of the Dark Forest? That was a new level. She was relieved that Bluestar didn’t believe it wholeheartedly, but now that the idea was there...she feared what might happen if it took root.
Fire will save the clan, she’d reminded Bluestar, and Bluestar had bowed her head. Of course, she’d murmured. StarClan knows best.
Spottedleaf turned away from the entrance of the den. The camp had settled down, only Tigerclaw remained awake – guarding the camp until moonhigh, when Runningwind would take over the duty.
Firepaw slept in his nest. His looked relaxed, even peaceful, but Spottedleaf knew he could still wake up crying out for Pinestar – or, sometimes, a cat named Jake.
She wondered who this Jake was and what he meant to Firepaw. Ah, well – mysteries for tomorrow, she supposed. For now, she could sleep, and pray to StarClan for guidance.
~~
When she woke, she wasn’t in her den, but in the silvery forests of StarClan. “Featherwhisker?” she called. “Are you there?”
“Always.” Featherwhisker’s warm voice came from her left. She turned to see silver-grey pelt materializing out of the trees, his amber eyes warm. “You have an interesting patient, Spottedleaf.”
She huffed, tossing her head in frustration. “I know. I can’t even tell what’s wrong with him – I’m treating him the best I can, but nothing seems to help. He’s growing weaker and weaker and I can’t think of anything else to do.” She looked over at her old mentor. “Is he telling the truth? Is StarClan truly responsible for this?”
Featherwhisker grimaced. “I don’t agree with it,” he meowed. “But yes. The leaders have decided that his knowledge is not worth the impact it’s having on the other clans. Whitepaw of WindClan was killed by dogs. RiverClan lost two kits to flooding. We could have sent warnings to them if we had known. But with Firepaw here, we cannot see.”
“But it’s not his fault,” she insisted. “You cannot punish him for trying to help!”
Featherwhisker sighed. “No,” he murmured. “I do not think we should. But he is dangerous, even to ThunderClan, and the leaders have decided.”
Spottedleaf shook her head. “Dangerous? How could he be dangerous to ThunderClan?”
But Featherwhisker was already fading. “You will wake soon,” he called. “If you are willing to face an uncertain future – work quickly.”
Spottedleaf woke with a gasp, her mind reeling. An uncertain future – uncertain how? The future was always uncertain, what made right now so special?
An urgent hiss from the shadows turned Spottedleaf’s head. She stumbled as she shot to her feet in shock – Firepaw lay in his nest, completely still except for the faint rise and fall of his ribs, and crouched over him was a massive starry warrior, his ears tattered and his reddish-brown fur scratched an unkempt. When he looked up, his green eyes bored into her soul.
Please, he meowed soundlessly. The word echoed in her head. Please.
Slowly, Spottedleaf nodded.
The tom faded and Spottedleaf snapped awake.
~~
Firepaw only had snatches of memory from the days that followed – Spottedleaf’s green eyes filled with worry, the tang of herbs, a fever so fierce his throat dried out and cracked like mud in a drought. His dreams blurred together with his waking hours – he saw Jake twice, licking his forehead to cool it; even Pinestar made an appearance, pacing the length between the pool in his clearing and the entrance of the ThunderClan medicine den.
Sandpaw didn’t visit – or if she did, Firepaw didn’t remember. Greypaw did, however – always with stories of training, or something the elders had said, or anything else. Firepaw couldn’t remember any of the details, but it was nice to hear his voice. He was vaguely surprised to see Redtail, but when he saw Pinestar looming over the deputy’s shoulder he figured he must be dreaming.
Right now, he was vaguely aware of Spottedleaf to his left, trying to coax yet more herbs into his mouth. Firepaw, though, didn’t have the strength to lift his head – much less eat anything.
Movement in the corner of the den caught his eye. His gaze darted towards it and his heart sank when he realized it was Pinestar, sitting solemnly as the stars in his fur winked in and out of existence.
The medicine den faded away. Spottedleaf’s voice died away to an echo.
Firestar was lying in Pinestar’s clearing.
“I lost another life,” he guessed. The words felt like fox teeth in his throat, but he managed them nonetheless.
“Not yet,” Pinestar told him. “But soon.”
“Why?” Firestar demanded. “What could StarClan find so thrice-damned important –”
“They’re not the ones responsible for this,” Pinestar said bluntly.
Firestar stared. “What?”
“I thought they were too,” Pinestar admitted. “They took most of what I remember as well, after all –”
“Of course they did,” Firestar muttered.
Pinestar snorted, but he sombered quickly. “They took our memories, yes, but they’re not the ones making you sick.”
“Then what –”
“It’s you,” Pinestar said gently.
Firestar stared. “Are – are you honestly blaming me for –”
“Of course not,” Pinestar snapped. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I do care about what happens to you.”
“Sure,” Firestar growled. “That’s why you dragged me back here. What do you want?”
Pinestar’s eyes flashed angrily. “Well, I thought I’d try to save your life, if that’s all right with you,” he bit back.
The two proud leaders – one dead, one dying – glared each other down.
~~
Firepaw, much to the shock of everyone (although, admittedly, they were significantly less shocked than they would have been, say a moon ago), picked himself up after two days of unconsciousness and asked for water.
“Did you lose a life?” Greypaw asked urgently, blinking at Firepaw as he devoured the squirrel Greypaw had brought.
Firepaw paused. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “I – I could be wrong, but I don’t think I did.”
“Well, I’m going to assume that you did,” Greypaw meowed. “Because you’re a mouse-brain and you’ll probably forget or something.”
Firepaw purred tiredly. “That’s a fair assessment,” he meowed. “Thanks, Greypaw.”
Spottedleaf insisted on keeping Firepaw for one more night, to ensure he wasn’t about to relapse, but at sunrise the next day he followed Bluestar on patrol. They were accompanied by Mousefur and Darkstripe, and the silence was only broken by the occasional attempt at an insult from the dark tabby tom who padded blindly after Tigerclaw.
(Firepaw wasn’t that blind. He didn’t really see the appeal of Tigerclaw, but apparently Darkstripe did. He almost – almost – felt bad that Tigerclaw didn’t return the favor.)
(...actually, no he didn’t. Darkstripe was objectively awful.)
As the patrol neared Tallpines and the Twolegplace, Firepaw slowed down, frowning. There was something about this place – something ominous. Something from the future, lurking in the shadows here. His frown deepened as he remembered the lies he’d told in his first days at ThunderClan – the mentions of BloodClan, how certain he’d felt that BloodClan was a real thing –
“Firepaw! Keep up!”
Bluestar’s voice snapped Firepaw out of his daze. He grimaced at the oncoming headache (Pinestar had warned him that trying to access the memories StarClan had taken would make him sick again) and bounded after the patrol, flicking his ears in embarrassment as he fell into step behind Bluestar.
Darkstripe sneered at him. “See someone you know, kittypet?”
Firepaw blinked back at him innocently. “No. Why, did you recognize someone?”
Darkstripe hissed.
Firepaw ignored him as the patrol drew to a close, cutting past Snakerocks on the way back to camp. He felt some of the tension he’d been carrying since the Twolegplace ease out of his shoulders as the strong scents of ThunderClan’s camp wafted towards them.
“Wait, Firepaw,” Bluestar called, motioning for Mousefur and Darkstripe to go on ahead. “Your training for the day is not over yet.”
Darkstripe sneered at Firepaw as he followed Mousefur into camp, already crowing about... something. Firepaw wasn’t exactly sure what there was to crow about, honestly. Patrol had (apart from his odd feeling about the Twolegplace) been largely uneventful.
Firepaw faced Bluestar. “What will we be doing for training?” he asked.
Bluestar waved her tail and he followed her away from camp – towards the training hollow, he realized. “I want to resume your battle training,” she meowed. “You need to get your strength back up after so long in the medicine den.” She paused, looking back at him with an unreadable expression. “How are you feeling? Have your memories returned?”
“Much better,” Firepaw said. “I’m afraid my memories haven’t come back yet, though.”
Bluestar hummed. “You mentioned StarClan was blocking your memories,” she said, continuing on towards the training hollow. “Do you know why?”
Firepaw missed a step on the trail and stumbled, muffling a curse behind his teeth. Bluestar’s ears twitched, but she didn’t stop. Didn’t I tell you this already? It felt like he’d said it a hundred times.
Little alarms began to ring in the back of Firepaw’s head and he narrowed his eyes. Something was going on here. This wasn’t mentorly concern – this was something else.
“No,” he lied, uneasiness settling like a heavy weight across his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Bluestar asked him no more questions.
CHAPTER NOTES
I'm exhausted so please forgive any typos - this chapter is shorter than my usual fare, I don't have much time to write this week. I'm visiting family.
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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Post by copperfur on Jul 3, 2019 1:45:05 GMT -5
Why do they suspect him of being a danger? I don't understand.
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 6, 2019 1:34:38 GMT -5
Firepaw's just...weird, especially to an outsider perspective, and Tigerclaw is manipulating the situation as much as possible.
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 6, 2019 1:50:46 GMT -5
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tigerclaw ground his teeth as stared across the den at Bluestar, cool and unflappable in her nest.
“Fire will save the clan,” she reminded him, parroting that thrice-cursed prophecy. “Are you doubting StarClan’s word?”
“Of course not,” Tigerclaw lied smoothly. “But I don’t suppose they thought to mention which clan?”
Bluestar’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“Whitestorm told you that Firepaw came from a – clan in the Twolegplace, did he not?” Tigerclaw couldn’t keep the distaste off his tongue. No proper clan would choose to live in the filth of the Twolegplace. “BloodClan, he called it. And didn’t Redtail’s report make mention of them? They seem to be in dire straits. Their leader is dead, and a tyrant rises in her place.”
Understanding dawned on Bluestar’s face. “You believe the sign was intended for this BloodClan.”
Tigerclaw didn’t particularly care one way or another, but he nodded. “It’s certainly worth considering.” Better to let Bluestar feel as though she’d reached the conclusion on her own – that way, Tigerclaw could be held blameless when Firepaw was finally exiled. (Or killed, but exile was less...messy.)
Bluestar looked troubled by the notion. “I will have to think on it. Thank you, Tigerclaw.”
Tigerclaw dipped his head, recognizing the dismissal, and exited the den.
He glanced around camp as he emerged, spotting Redtail and Lionheart deep in conversation. They had been spending an increasing amount of time together over the few days – ever since Firepaw had taken a turn for the worst, as a matter of fact. When Tigerclaw had first noticed, he’d been worried that the pang in his belly was jealousy – he liked Redtail well enough, but he didn’t think the relationship was worth getting jealous over. His main motivation for courting the ThunderClan deputy had been to take over the position himself (one way or another). Jealousy didn’t really factor into the plan – or at least, it shouldn’t.
Besides, it wasn’t like Lionheart preferred the company of toms. He had kits, for StarClan’s sake – although so did Redtail; when Sandpaw’s mother had expressed a desire for kits but been unwilling to take a mate, Redtail had sired them for her.
Either way, upon further inspection, however, the pang in his belly was caused not by jealousy, but by suspicion. Lionheart had taken to lingering at the corner of Tigerclaw’s sight ever since he’d started keeping Redtail’s company. Both toms greeted him coolly – Redtail less so, however; sometimes Tigerclaw would catch him staring admiringly across the clearing.
It was flattering, but also exasperating. With Lionheart in the picture and the added complication of Firepaw’s knowledge, Tigerclaw was less interested in winning back Redtail’s trust and more interested in ruining his credibility in Bluestar’s eyes.
How to go about doing so – that was another matter. Some kind of lover’s spat, perhaps, to convince Bluestar that Redtail’s opinions were irrevocably biased against Tigerclaw, that Tigerclaw was only trying to be objective, to help the clan –
He was distracted by movement at the entrance of the nursery. As he looked over, he saw Firepaw emerging from the den with Frostfur’s kits at her heels and Frostfur herself watching him warmly. While Firepaw gently disentangled himself from the kits, Tigerclaw spied Swiftkit bounding out of the nursery with Goldenflower’s voice trailing behind him.
...Goldenflower.
Hm.
~~
Firepaw glanced over his shoulder at Tigerclaw, who was speaking with Goldenflower, as Bluestar led him out of camp.
It was time for his first solo hunting assessment, according to Bluestar. He had a vague idea that he’d done this before, but (naturally) he couldn’t remember anything about it. Even focusing on the impression the memory had left made his head begin to ache and he forced himself to focus on the world around him.
Early morning sunlight streamed through the trees, which were now flush and full with bright green leaves and plentiful branches. Greenleaf had taken a firm hold on the forest, but the persistent headache made Firepaw suspect it wouldn’t last.
“I must return to lead the border patrol,” Bluestar meowed, “but I expect you will not disappoint me. Catch as much as you can between now and sunhigh. You may cover the entire territory.”
Firepaw dipped his head, bounding off into the undergrowth at Bluestar’s dismissal. He headed first for the stream along the RiverClan border – the voles and mice that made their burrows in the mud would be emerging into the warm sunlight about now and he expected they would be easy pickings.
He slowed as he neared the banks, pausing to sniff the earth and the cold, blind things that moved within it. A Twoleg had been here recently – more than one, if he had to guess – but they were no longer nearby. He was vaguely surprised at the lack of fox smell and then blinked, wondering why that was.
The persistent headache increased pointedly and Firepaw shook himself, forcing thoughts of absent smells from his mind and dropping into a hunting crouch as he filtered through the smells of the riverbank and the forest to catch the scent of water vole.
He followed his nose closer to the riverbank, where he spotted the plump brown body of his quarry darting back and forth as it harvested grass stalks. Slowly, Firepaw stalked forward, the tall grass of the banks tickling his belly fur as he slunk forward like a snake. Another moment...
There was a rustle in the ferns behind him. Firepaw launched himself forwards as the water vole darted for the safety of a fallen tree trunk, his claws snagging in the creature’s fur – but it disappeared into the dark hole with only a scratch.
Hackles rising, Firepaw turned around. Whoever – or whatever – had ruined his first attempted catch of the day needed to pay.
He tasted the air. It was definitely a who – and a ThunderClan who, at that. His first instinct was Tigerclaw – the feeling of thorn-sharp claws cutting through his fur was unlikely to leave him any time soon – but then sense reasserted itself. This cat was young – Firepaw’s age, at most – and far less skilled at silent moving than the terrifying tabby warrior.
Firepaw sniffed the air again and sighed. “Greypaw, you stalk like a lopsided badger.”
An offended yelp came from the undergrowth as Greypaw emerged. “Lopsided badger! That was my best stealth crouch!”
Firepaw snorted. “No wonder you can only catch hoary old squirrels. They’re the only ones deaf enough to not hear you coming!” Amusement softened his words. “Well, that and the one-winged thrushes.”
Greypaw hissed playfully. “I’ll show you lopsided –”
Firepaw ducked out from under Greypaw’s leap but caught a hefty blow to the head that left him seeing stars. He huffed, shaking his to clear it, before lashing out at Greypaw with a quick flurry of strikes.
Greypaw yelped, beating a hasty retreat before suddenly switching tactics and bowling Firepaw over with his superior strength, pinning him to the ground. Firepaw put up a token resistance before allowing himself to go limp.
“You give up to easily!” Greypaw crowed, loosening his grip. As he did so, Firepaw sprang to his feet, throwing Greypaw into the undergrowth with a yelp of surprise.
Within a heartbeat, Firepaw was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. “‘Surprise is the warrior’s greatest weapons,’” he meowed, quoting one of Lionheart’s favorite phrases before stepping down and letting Greypaw to his feet.
Greypaw seemed unbothered by the defeat as he shook out his fur. “So, how’re you getting on with your task?”
Firepaw’s nose twitched. “I was doing fine until you came along,” he meowed. “You scared off my vole with your noisy trampling.”
Greypaw’s eyes went wide with contrition. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize –”
Firepaw waved off his apologies. “It’s fine. I’ll find more.” He tilted his head. “What are you doing out here already? The day’s barely started.”
“It’s started for you,” Greypaw pointed out. “Redtail wanted me to take a message to the border patrol. They should be near the WindClan border by now –”
Firepaw mrrowed in exasperation. “Well? Get going then! You don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Greypaw shrugged. “It wasn’t urgent. Besides, the WindClan hunting grounds aren’t too far from here. And I should help you make up for the vole you lost.”
“What you should do is follow orders,” Firepaw said dryly. “Go on. You don’t want to keep Bluestar waiting.”
Greypaw wavered visibly, but eventually he caved in and sighed. “I supposed you’re right,” he meowed reluctantly. “Still, if I see any prey I’ll be sure to catch it for you.”
“Don’t you dare,” Firepaw meowed without any heat. “It’s my first solo assignment. I’m going to do it properly.” He waved his tail towards the WindClan border. “Well? Shoo!”
“You must have been insufferable as leader,” Greypaw mumbled, but he darted off in the direction of the patrol.
Firepaw sighed fondly as he watched his friend’s bushy grey tail disappear into the undergrowth. He continued hunting along the riverbank, making short work of a mouse and a thrush before scenting another water vole. This time, without the interference of his friend, he caught and killed it neatly, burying it neatly next to the rest of his catches.
A flash of movement caught his eye and he whipped around to see a squirrel scuttling down a nearby tree. Immediately, Firepaw took off after it, racing over the springy woodland ground – only to skid to a halt as his quarry scampered up a slender birch, far too flimsy for Firepaw to climb after it. Even if it weren’t, no cat could beat a squirrel up a tree. They were just too fast.
Spitting in disappointment, Firepaw glanced around, taking stock of where he’d ended up. The acrid scent of the Thunderpath hit his nose and he hissed reflexively, hackles rising. He hadn’t realized he’d ventured so close to the ShadowClan border.
Cautiously, drawn by some unknown instinct (but one that made his head pound) he stepped out of cover onto the border of oily grass that lay between the trees and the Thunderpath. The smell made his throat itch.
He peered into the trees on the other side, searching for – something. He wasn’t sure what – but was that a pair of eyes he saw on the other side, looking back at him?
It didn’t matter, not really – as long as they both stayed on their side of the Thunderpath, everything would be fine. If they were a spy for Brokenstar – well, there wasn’t much they could learn about ThunderClan from the other side of the Thunderpath.
Firepaw turned around, tail twitching with nerves, and hurried back into the cover of the trees. He could have sworn he felt the stranger cat’s eyes burning into him as he retreated.
He began to head back towards the stream, planning on resuming his hunting there – the area was plentiful, especially in Greenleaf, and he expected that he’d be able to produce a decent haul to show to Bluestar come sunhigh.
A shift in the wind brought a strange scent across his nose. Firepaw bristled – ShadowClan scent – a she-cat, not young, tired, hungry, sick, foul mood –
– and with a lightning-fast movement, the growing sense of familiarity was shattered by a snarling ball of fur slamming into him, fastening her fangs into the back of his neck as thorn-sharp claws sank into his shoulders.
Firepaw’s screech of pain and fear was entirely genuine as, for a heartbeat, he was thrown back to a bloody, pain-filled night where his only company had been a massive tabby killer.
“Ah, a puny apprentice. Easy prey for Yellowfang!”
Firepaw’s instinctive offense at puny apprentice was washed away by the red-hot spike of pain that slammed into his skull at the name Yellowfang.
I know you, he realized. I knew you.
He struggled to shrug off the memories as the she-cat – Yellowfang – pinned him to the ground. Her teeth pricked into the skin of his neck once more and he twisted, kicking out with his powerful hind legs and sending Yellowfang flying backwards into a gorse bush.
“Not such easy prey,” Firepaw growled, leaping to his feet.
Yellowfang spat defiantly as she tore herself free of the gorse bush. Despite himself, Firepaw couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity for her when he saw how disheveled she looked. Her dark grey fur was matted into smelly clumps and her round orange eyes held far more pain than just physical. She was grieving, Firepaw realized with a start. What was she grieving?
Her kit.
The voice in Firepaw’s ear didn’t sound like Pinestar, but it carried a heavy weight of sorrow and guilt that made him hesitate.
There was something happening here. Something he didn’t understand – something he needed to understand, that StarClan wouldn’t let him understand –
Yellowfang threw herself at Firepaw once again, sensing his indecision. He barely dodged out of the way in time, her huge jaws closing with a snap on the still-warm air where his muzzle used to be. He lashed out with a backswipe, catching Yellowfang about the head and sending her stumbling sideways, shaking her head.
In the single heartbeat before the she-cat recovered, Firepaw saw his chance. He threw himself forward, crouching low, and clamped his jaws tight on Yellowfang’s back leg. The she-cat’s matted fur tasted like crowfood, but he hung on determinedly, biting down as hard as he could.
Yellowfang screeched in pain and outrage, whipping around to snap at Firepaw’s tail. Pain lanced up Firepaw’s spine as her teeth made contact. Anger surged through him – he was a warrior of ThunderClan, a leader, not some troublesome kit to be tossed about –
Yellowfang wrenched herself sideways and Firepaw lost his grip on her leg. The pair sprang apart and began circling each other warily, trading hisses and snarls.
It was Firepaw who broke the standoff, lashing out as Yellowfang with claws extended. She yowled in pain – unable to duck quickly enough, Firepaw’s blow had shredded her ear. She flung herself at him; Firepaw rolled with the momentum and they tumbled into a flurry of blows and snarls until they broke apart mere moments later, both panting for breath.
“Had enough?” Firepaw hissed at her. He was tiring fast, but he could sense that Yellowfang was tiring faster – her injured leg was trembling violently, and her flanks heaved with each inhale.
“Never!” Yellowfang spat back, but moments later her injured leg finally gave way, sending her tumbling to the ground.
Firepaw watched, the pity he’d felt earlier returning to the forefront, as Yellowfang tried to rise to her feet and failed, slumping down into the dirt with dull eyes. “If I weren’t so hungry and tired, I’d have shredded you into mouse-dust.” The she-cat’s mouth twisted in pain and defiance. “Finish me off. I won’t stop you.”
“I don’t think so,” Firepaw meowed, because first of all she was surrendering and second of all he wanted to know who she was. But by the smell of her, she wouldn’t see moonhigh without something to eat.
With a resigned groan usually reserved for older siblings and the mentors of cocky apprentices, Firepaw took a step back. “Wait here,” he meowed.
“Are you kidding?” Yellowfang demanded, her hackled smoothing out as she deflated. “I’m going nowhere.” She grunted as she limped towards a soft patch of heather and began licking her wounded leg.
Muttering several dire curses against StarClan in general and Sunstar in particular – he had been a leader of ThunderClan, why couldn’t he see that Firepaw was trying to help – Firepaw turned and padded into the forest, scenting the air to seek out fresh-kill for the starving warrior he’d left in his wake. Sun-warmed odors filled his nose as he moved silently through the ferns – a dead and rotting rat, insects under the tree bark, a nest of mice underground.
He was considering returning to the stream and digging up one of his previous kills when the scent of rabbit caught his attention. Instinctively, he dropped into a hunter’s crouch and glanced around for the source of the warm, meaty smell. He spotted the rabbit a tail-length-and-a-half away and moved forward carefully, winding his way behind it to keep the wind from carrying his scent to the rabbit’s sensitive nose.
The rabbit never saw him coming. He pounced on it and finished it off with an economical flick of his claws before picking up the fresh-kill in his jaws.
Yellowfang looked up tiredly as he approached. “Well, hello again, little apprentice! I thought you’d gone to fetch your little warrior friends.”
“That comes later.” Firepaw meowed dryly, shoving the rabbit towards her with his nose. “Look, if you don’t want this…”
“Ah – no,” Yellowfang meowed hastily. “I do want it.”
Firepaw watched the she-cat rip open the prey and start to swallow it down, washing the blood from his muzzle as he did so. “When you’ve finished, I’m bringing you to camp,” he told her. “Bluestar can decide what to do with you.”
Yellowfang paused. “Well, that’s a fairer hearing than I expected,” she muttered. Firepaw couldn’t tell if he was meant to hear that or not and elected not to respond.
As Yellowfang finished the rabbit, Firepaw sniffed the air, his hackles rising briefly before he identified the new cat-scents the wind had brought. Bluestar and Greypaw were the most easily identifiable, followed by Tigerclaw and Darkstripe and –
The last one took him a moment. Willowpelt. That was it.
He threw his head back and yowled.
Yellowfang hissed in alarm as the alert snapped through the air, rattling between the trees and definitely scaring off all the prey in the area. “So long,” she spat, rising to her feet and trying to limp away on three legs. “Nn-uh – blasted leg’s stiffened up –”
It was too late for her to run. Firepaw waited calmly as the border patrol slipped out of the shadows of the forest. It was the same cats that Firepaw had scented – Bluestar and Tigerclaw, followed closely by Darkstripe and less so by Willowpelt, with Greypaw trailing behind, his eyes wide.
Firepaw meowed a greeting, only to find that Greypaw was the only one to return it.
“Silence!” Tigerclaw hissed furiously.
Despite the fear-scent that was rolling off her in waves, Yellowfang spat angrily in response to Tigerclaw’s demand. Firepaw felt himself warming to her already.
“Firepaw?” Bluestar’s question was cool and measured. “What have we here? An enemy warrior – and recently fed, by the smell of you both.” Her eyes burned into him, and Firepaw raised his chin, determined to hold his ground.
“She was starving,” he meowed. “I doubt she’d have made it to sundown without food.” That was a slight exaggeration but considering the other lies he’d told to his clan in the past few moons, it barely even registered on his radar.
“And what about you?” Bluestar asked. “Was your hunger so bad that you had to feed yourself before you had gathered prey for your Clan?”
Firepaw bristled in indignation. “I haven’t taken a bite!” he snapped. “I hunted as I was ordered and fed a starving old cat. I thought warriors were supposed to show mercy to a defeated enemy?”
“Feeding our foes is not mercy,” Tigerclaw growled.
Bluestar ignored them both and looked to Yellowfang. She blinked, and Firepaw could smell the sharp spike of surprise. “Well, well, Firepaw! It seems you have captured us a ShadowClan cat. And one I know well. You are ShadowClan’s medicine cat, aren’t you?” she meowed to Yellowfang. “What are you doing so far into ThunderClan territory?”
“I was the ShadowClan medicine cat. Now I choose to travel alone,” hissed Yellowfang.
Firepaw blinked. The ShadowClan medicine cat? Did that mean ShadowClan could no longer treat it’s injured? Perhaps Brokenstar’s brutal training methods extended to other aspects of life as well – perhaps he believed that no cat who was injured in battle should seek help during recovery. It sounded like a Brokenstar thing to do.
“Yellowfang!” Tigerclaw sneered. “It looks like you have fallen on hard times if you can be beaten by an apprentice!”
Yellowfang hissed at him in response, her tail lashing, but wisely made no threat.
Then Darkstripe spoke. “This old cat is no use to us. Let’s kill her now. As for this kittypet, he has broken the warrior code by feeding an enemy warrior. He should be punished.”
“Keep your claws in, Darkstripe,” Bluestar meowed reproachfully. “All the Clans speak of Yellowfang’s bravery and wisdom.” She nodded decisively. “We’ll take her back to camp. Can you walk?” she asked Yellowfang. “Or do you need help?”
“I’ve still got three good legs,” the Yellowfang snapped, limping forward determinedly. Her eyes were glazed with pain, but her gait was steady (or as steady as it could be) and she hissed when Willowpelt offered her shoulder.
A look of respect flicker across Bluestar’s face before she turned and led the way through the trees. The other warriors took up positions on either side of Yellowfang, and the patrol moved off, carefully keeping pace with their lame prisoner.
Greypaw fell back to walk behind Firepaw, but Firepaw was too lost in thought to carry on a proper conversation.
~~
As the patrol passed the sentries, the rumor of Yellowfang’s capture spread like wildfire, reaching the camp before Bluestar had ever stepped foot back inside. Jeers echoed around the camp as the patrol padded towards Highrock. With every step, Firepaw could see Yellowfang growing more and more tense – from nerves or anger or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell. Yellowfang was a confusing jumble of smells that shifted and changed with each breath.
Bluestar nodded to the dusty earth in front of Highrock and Yellowfang sank down gratefully in front of it, beginning to lick her wounded leg. Spottedleaf appeared at the front of the crowd and made her way towards Yellowfang, only to be stopped cold with a hiss.
“I know how to take care of my own wounds,” Yellowfang spat. “I don’t need your help.”
Spottedleaf dipped her head respectfully and stepped back but remained nearby.
“What was that about?” Greypaw muttered. “You’d think she’d be grateful for a little help!”
“Too proud, I expect,” Firepaw murmured back.
Greypaw just grunted.
At that moment, Bluestar broke off her conference with the senior warriors and padded towards the fresh-kill pile, selecting a juicy-looking wood pigeon.
Firepaw longed to take a piece for himself and satisfy his rumbling belly, but he had a sneaking suspicion that feeding Yellowfang would result in him forfeiting his share. Finally, though, hunger – and Greypaw and Ravenpaw’s own approaches – drove him forward, only to find Tigerclaw standing in his way.
Trying to ignore how his heart skipped a beat in his chest, Firepaw met Tigerclaw’s harsh gaze and refused to flinch.
“Not you,” Tigerclaw growled. “You didn’t bring back any prey. Take your share to the queens.”
Resisting the urge to inform Tigerclaw that he’d caught plenty, thank you, it just happened to be buried near the RiverClan border, Firepaw dipped his head stiffly and stepped around Tigerclaw to pick up a pair of mice. He padded towards the nursery, irritation and nerves in equal measure making his fur prickle.
Goldenflower meowed her thanks as he set one of the mice down in front of her. “Were you injured in the fight with Yellowfang?” she meowed, her gaze traveling over Firepaw’s pelt.
Firepaw shrugged demurely. “Not badly. Just a few scratches.”
Frostfur spoke up. “You should have Spottedleaf look at them anyway,” she meowed. “Can’t have one of ThunderClan’s most promising apprentices dying of infection, can we?”
Firepaw purred in embarrassment, beating a hasty exit from the nursery just as Bluestar called a clan meeting. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey come forth for a Clan meeting!”
Firepaw approached the Highrock with some trepidation, taking a seat next to Greypaw and Ravenpaw.
“Has Bluestar mentioned your punishment yet?” Greypaw murmured.
Firepaw shook his head. Greypaw was in the middle of sympathetic noises when Bluestar began to speak.
“I’m sure you have all heard about the prisoner we brought back with us today,” Bluestar began, “but there is something else that requires your attention.” She glanced down at Yellowfang, still lying at the base of the Highrock. “Can you hear me from there?”
“I may be old, but I’m not deaf yet!” Yellowfang spat back.
Bluestar continued as if the exchange had never happened. “I’m afraid I have some very grave news. Today I traveled with a patrol into WindClan territory. The air was filled with the scent of ShadowClan. Many of the trees had been sprayed by ShadowClan warriors. And we met no WindClan cats until we had nearly reached their camp.”
“Do you mean ShadowClan has invaded WindClan’s territory?” called Smallear hesitantly. “Do they mean to occupy it?”
Bluestar dipped her head. “This is what the WindClan warriors we met told us. They have lost nearly half their territory to ShadowClan and believe Brokenstar to be massing for a second attack against them.”
Shocked yowls rose from the clan in fits and starts. Several cats turned towards Yellowfang with hisses and bared teeth. The ragged old medicine cat met each challenge with a snarl and unsheathed claws.
“How could WindClan be driven out?” One-eye called, her creaky voice cutting through the din. “ShadowClan may be fierce, but WindClan is many – and they have lived in the uplands for generations.” She shook her head, her whiskers trembling.
Bluestar shook her head. “I don’t know the answers to any of your questions.”
“Perhaps Yellowfang does!” Darkstripe yowled. “After all, she is of ShadowClan!”
“I am no traitor! Nothing would make me share the secrets of ShadowClan with a brute like you!” snarled Yellowfang, rising to her feet to meet Darkstripe’s unsheathed claws.
“Enough!” Bluestar yowled.
Darkstripe immediately halted in his tracks, even though Yellowfang goaded him on with blazing eyes and a ferocious hiss.
“This situation is too serious for us to be fighting among ourselves,” Bluestar continued. “ThunderClan must prepare itself. From this moonrise onward, warriors will travel in larger groups. Other Clan members will remain close to the camp. Patrols will travel the boundary edges more frequently, and all the kits must stay in the nursery.”
The cats below her nodded in agreement.
Bluestar continued. “Our need for warriors is our greatest obstacle. We shall get around this by speeding up the training of our apprentices. They need to be ready even sooner to fight for our Clan.”
Firepaw glanced nervously down the line at his fellow apprentices, wishing desperately that he had his memories back so he could continue their training. As he did so, he noticed a flash of apprehension on Yellowfang’s face.
Bluestar wasn’t finished, however. “Yellowfang will be allowed to stay here until she has recovered her strength. We are warriors, not savages. She is to be treated with respect and courtesy.”
Darkstripe’s voice rose in a whine. “But the Clan cannot support Yellowfang,” he protested. “We have too many mouths to feed already.”
Firepaw’s lip curled. “And some are bigger than others,” he snapped back. Darkstripe whipped around to face him, eyes blazing, and was met with Firepaw’s furious gaze.
“I don’t need anyone to care for me!” spat Yellowfang. “And I’ll split open anyone who tries!”
“Friendly, isn’t she?” Graypaw murmured.
Not far away, Dustpaw snorted.
“We shall kill two prey with one blow, as it were,” Bluestar meowed, her gaze pinning Firepaw in place. “Firepaw, as punishment for breaking the warrior code, it will be your responsibility to care for Yellowfang. You will hunt for her and tend her wounds. You will fetch fresh bedding and clear away her dirt.”
Firepaw sighed. Strangely, he didn’t feel terribly put-upon at the declaration. Perhaps this was another thing that had happened last time. “Yes, Bluestar.”
A mocking yowl rang out at the declaration. “I hope he’s good at cracking fleas!” Longtail sneered.
Bluestar ignored him with supreme disdain. “The meeting is over. I would like to speak to my senior warriors alone now.” With that, she jumped down from the Highrock and marched toward her den.
Redtail followed her, alongside Lionheart and Tigerclaw. Whitestorm hung back, as if uncertain, but followed after only a moment of hesitation.
Firepaw rose to his feet, intending to see to Yellowfang, but he was cut off by Longtail’s sneering muzzle. He did a lot of sneering, Firepaw realized. Well, I hope you’ll think twice about bringing strays back into the camp next time,” he jeered. “Like I said, outsiders always bring trouble.”
Firepaw regarded him coldly. “Not just outsiders.”
CHAPTER NOTES
Disclaimer - a good chunk of dialogue here is from Into the Wild chapters 6-8. This is one of those fixed events that doesn't change much, so I hope you'll all forgive me. I promise things will go back to their regularly scheduled chaos soon.
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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Post by mocatstar on Jul 8, 2019 15:15:15 GMT -5
This is amazing
M A K E M E A F A N
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 8, 2019 17:28:47 GMT -5
 !!! thank you so much! you've been added to the list. |
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 13, 2019 6:51:35 GMT -5
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Caring for Yellowfang was rather like caring for an angry fox. She and Firepaw traded spitting words for three days straight as Firepaw brought her fresh-kill, changed her bedding, and did his very best to get rid of the tick colony that had made its home in Yellowfang’s fur.
It was disgusting. Firepaw informed her as much.
Despite the constant snapping, Firepaw felt himself warming quickly to the old she-cat. In between barbed insults, there were quieter, more serious words exchanged. Firepaw apparently had spirit (he’d tried desperately to keep himself from laughing at that one – she really had no idea) and bad things happened to kits when she was around. At least, according to Yellowfang. Both of those conversations had felt frustratingly familiar, but he held his tongue.
The third night after Yellowfang’s arrival, Firepaw dreamed.
Pinestar was waiting for him in his clearing, looking somewhere between smug and triumphant.
“No Jake?” Firestar asked, by way of greeting.
Pinestar flicked his tail in annoyance. “That’s all you have to say to me? I have good news, you know. Also, a greeting would be polite.”
“Hello,” Firestar said. “No Jake?”
Pinestar sighed. “No Jake,” he meowed. “He spends most of his time with WindClan these days. They’re still in their camp,” he added, “but they’ve lost access to most of their territory. ShadowClan essentially has them pinned in.”
Firestar shuddered at the thought. “Brokenstar, I assume.”
Pinestar sighed. “Who else? Tigerclaw hasn’t left ThunderClan territory since the last Gathering.” His frown deepened. “Speaking of Tigerclaw, I’d keep an eye on Redtail and Lionheart if I were you. They’re plotting something, but I can’t tell what.”
Firestar hesitated, flipping through a few scenarios in his head. There was one guaranteed way to get into Redtail’s immediate good graces – to tell the truth of what had happened the night he’d gone missing – but with his memories gone, he wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. Still… he might not have a choice. He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Was that the good news?”
Pinestar shook his head. “Hardly.” The massive leader sounded downright gleeful. “Apparently, StarClan – or someone in StarClan – has been speaking to their prophets, trying to find a workaround for our memories that won’t block off their own foresight.
Firestar blinked. “I – wait, really?”
Pinestar nodded. “They think we should have our memories back by within a half-moon."
Firestar nodded slowly, processing the information. Half a moon – half a moon and there would be no more headaches, no more frustrating echoes in the back of his mind. He could focus all his energy on protecting ThunderClan from Brokenstar and Tigerclaw’s machinations. But until then –
Speak to Redtail, one way or another – and try and figure out what, exactly, the situation with this ‘BloodClan’ was.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. That’s –”
Pinestar seemed to understand. He touched Firestar’s shoulder with the tip of his tail. “We’ll be all right,” he meowed. “Take care of yourself, or Jake will have my fur.”
Firestar snorted as the clearing faded from view.
He woke up as Firepaw, feeling small and gawky in his paws as he picked himself up and slipped out of the den, tail flicking from side to side in contemplation. He scanned the camp, searching for any sign of Redtail. He perked up when he saw the slight-framed deputy sitting near the High Rock, deep in conversation with Lionheart, and was about to head over to him when he saw Tigerclaw emerging from Bluestar’s den. He backtracked hastily, turning his paws towards Yellowfang and keeping Tigerclaw in the corner of his eye.
Yellowfang, who was already awake and watching him with bright orange eyes, noticed. “Don’t like that one, do you,” she rasped.
Firepaw glanced at her. Some part of him wanted to confide in her – the part that listened to the bone-deep ache in his skull – but she was still of ShadowClan. If he was going to talk to anyone, he needed to talk to Redtail.
“We have our issues,” he meowed eventually. “He’s a difficult cat to like.”
Yellowfang snorted, laying her head back down on her paws. “You’re not prone to overstating things, are you kitty?”
Firepaw bit back a sigh. Yellowfang had unearthed his kittypet heritage and hadn’t stopped calling him kitty since. And every time she did, he got a headache. “Not as a rule, no. Do you need anything, Yellowfang?”
Yellowfang grunted. “Mouse bile. I have a whole family of ticks at the base of my tail.”
Firepaw dipped his head, suppressing a shudder, and padded over to Spottedleaf’s den in search of Yellowfang’s mouse bile.
As he headed towards the fern tunnel, cats crossed the clearing around him, carrying sticks and twigs in their teeth. The camp had woken up while he was speaking to Yellowfang. It had been like this everyday since Bluestar had announced WindClan’s disappearance. The queens were weaving twigs and leaves into a dense green wall around the sides of the nursery, making sure that the narrow entrance was the only way in and out of the bramble patch. Other cats were working at the edges of the camp, filling in any spaces in the thick undergrowth.
Even the elders were busy, scraping out a hole in the ground. Warriors filed steadily past, piling pieces of fresh-kill beside them, ready to be stored inside the newly dug hole. There was an air of quiet concentration, a determination to make the Clan as secure and well supplied as possible.
If ShadowClan made a move on their territory, ThunderClan would shelter inside the camp. WindClan hadn’t been driven from their home, and neither would ThunderClan.
Darkstripe, Longtail, Willowpelt, and Dustpaw were waiting silently at the camp entrance. Firepaw passed near them on his way to Spottedleaf’s den, exchanging a nod with Dustpaw – and stopping dead in his tracks because he was such a mouse-brain.
Dustpaw was Redtail’s apprentice. If he wanted to talk to Redtail –
He couldn’t say anything now, because Darkstripe and Longtail were standing right there, but he and Dustpaw shared a den – it would be simplicity itself to catch a moment alone.
First, though, he needed to get the mouse-bile for Yellowfang.
Shaking his head, Firepaw pulled himself forward into the medicine den, Darkstripe’s mocking jeer on his heels. He rolled his eyes as he ducked inside. “Spottedleaf? Can I have some mouse-bile for Yellowfang’s ticks?”
“In a moment,” replied Spottedleaf, pawing two piles of herbs together and mixing the fragrant heap with one delicately extended claw.
“Busy?” Firepaw asked, settling down on a warm patch of earth.
“I want to be prepared for any casualties,” Spottedleaf murmured as she finished, rising to her paws. “What is it you wanted? Mouse bile?”
Firepaw dipped his head. “Please.”
Spottedleaf’s whiskers twitched. “That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen a cat to pick up mouse bile.” She bounded into her den and brought something out. She held it gingerly in her mouth. It was a small wad of moss dangling on the end of a thin strip of bark. She passed it to Firepaw, who accepted it with a grateful purr. He was in high spirits now that he had concrete, actionable plans – vague threats always made him paranoid and off-kilter, but having a plan? There was life in his paws once again. He was no longer going through the motions.
~~
Firepaw sighed in relief as he dipped his paws into the stream, licking at his ruffled fur. Yellowfang’s ticks had been successfully vanquished and Firepaw was now washing the evidence off of his paws before he went hunting. Halftail had instructed him not to come back to camp without prey, which worked out well – he’d intended to bring back food for Yellowfang anyway.
“Firepaw!” Greypaw yowled. “What are you doing in the water?”
Firepaw purred, bounding up the bank to greet his friends – Ravenpaw had appeared at Greypaw’s flank, his eyes darting from side to side as if he were expecting a ShadowClan warrior to jump out at him from behind every bush.
Then again, Firepaw had run into Yellowfang not far from here, so perhaps his fears weren’t entirely unfounded.
“Mouse bile,” Firepaw explained, shaking himself dry. “Don’t ask. What are you two doing here?”
Greypaw shrugged. “Lionheart and Tigerclaw went on patrol. We’re supposed to spend the rest of the day hunting.”
Firepaw flicked his tail. “Halftail said the same thing to me,” he meowed. “But I’m hoping to get back before Tigerclaw does. I want to talk to Redtail.” Or, he supposed, perhaps Lionheart – the golden warrior also seemed to be in Bluestar’s confidence, and judging by the amount of time Redtail was spending with him… either they were starting to become an item, or they were plotting something. Or trying to unravel other cats’ plots.
He hoped it was the latter. He’d been blindsided by a few too many relationships within the last couple of moons.
Greypaw’s ears pricked up. “What about Lionheart?” he meowed hopefully, confirming Firepaw’s idea. “I bet he could help too.”
Firepaw nodded. “Probably,” he agreed. “But first we have to catch some prey.”
~~
When Firepaw came back, he was greeted with high tails and a few friendly nuzzles. He brought most of the fresh-kill to the stores that were being dug, exchanging a few friendly words with Halftail before bringing a squirrel over to Yellowfang.
“I brought you food,” he meowed, dropping it in front of her.
“Yes, I can see that,” she meowed dryly. She sniffed it suspiciously and Firepaw rolled her eyes.
“If I was going to feed you deathberries, I wouldn’t do it right next to Bluestar’s den,” he meowed.
Yellowfang grunted, but took a bite out of the squirrel and chewed. “Not bad,” she meowed. “For a kittypet.”
“Not bad for a warrior, you mean,” Firepaw responded tartly. “If there’s nothing else, I have other duties to attend to.”
Yellowfang waved him off with her tail. “Go on,” she rasped. “If I need anything else – you’ll know!”
“I don’t doubt it,” Firepaw replied, bounding over to where Redtail was speaking to the elders. He waited politely as Redtail and Smallear discussed the stores and how much fresh-kill they could hold, trying not to fidget or look towards the camp entrance for fear he’d jinx himself and Tigerclaw would come strolling in.
When Redtail stepped back and turned away, he found Firepaw standing in front of him.
“I need to talk to you,” Firepaw said quietly. “About – about that night. Not now,” he added hastily, seeing a look of consternation flicker across Redtail’s face. “But – soon.”
Redtail, to his credit, didn’t ask questions. He just nodded. “I’ll make time after sundown,” he meowed. “Are you comfortable talking to Lionheart as well?”
Firepaw hesitated, but only for a moment. Apparently, he’d been right about Lionheart being a co-conspirator (or a co-anti-conspirator?) of Redtail’s. “Yes,” he meowed. “Yes, that’s okay.”
Redtail nodded. Sympathy washed over his face and he touched his tail-tip to Firepaw’s shoulder. “Thank you for speaking on it.”
Firepaw dipped his head in embarrassment and headed for the camp walls. He had to do something until sundown after all.
~~
Firepaw worked long past sundown on reinforcing the camp walls, making excuse after excuse to keep working until Redtail and Lionheart padded up.
“Good work,” Redtail remarked, before lowering his voice. “So. Without preamble, what happened?”
Firepaw took a deep breath. The words themselves were surprisingly hard to say – but they needed to be said. He couldn’t sit on this any longer – Pinestar’s revelation had put fire back in his bones and he was determined to regain the drive to change things that he’d had when he’d first arrived. “Tigerclaw happened.”
Redtail and Lionheart exchanged a look. Firepaw noted that they didn’t look shocked – horrified, disgusted, yes, but not shocked. “You… already knew?”
“Not for sure,” Redtail murmured. “But I suspected. His was the only scent on you after he brought you back, and no one in the Twolegplace knew who you were.”
Firepaw snorted softly. “Yeah, I know. I heard all about it.”
Redtail looked fond at the indirect mention of his apprentice. “Of course you did.” He glanced over to the leader’s den. “Will you tell Bluestar?”
Firepaw hesitated. Something niggled at the back of his mind – a reason to keep his mouth shut – but he ignored it, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I can.”
Redtail nodded. “All right,” he murmured. “Then we’ll confront her with the evidence tomorrow, all right? First thing in the morning.”
Firepaw nodded. “First thing in the morning,” he echoed.
CHAPTER NOTES
Disclaimer - credit to Into the Wild for a little bit of the lines. This is a super short chapter because I've been super busy and didn't start writing until like 3am so please be kind to my inevitable typos.
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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Post by phantomstar57 on Jul 13, 2019 11:35:25 GMT -5
Good chapter. I can't wait til Firepaw gets his memories back. . .
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 20, 2019 5:13:36 GMT -5
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tigerclaw waited until Redtail’s breathing slowed and deepened; then, once he was sure the deputy – and Lionheart, curled up nearby – was asleep, he rose silently to his paws and slipped out of the den.
He glanced towards the apprentice den, checking for any hint of ginger fur or any hint of green eyes, and saw nothing. Satisfied, he slid from the shadows of the warrior’s den and made a beeline for the den where Bluestar slept at the base of Highrock. He stopped at the curtain of lichen, considering – nobody had seen him. He could just slip inside and slash her throat and be gone before anyone was any wiser.
But he had no idea how many lives she had left, and even if she only had one life left – Redtail was still her deputy, despite Tigerclaw’s best efforts. And a ThunderClan under Redstar would only make Tigerclaw’s problems worse.
So, he cleared his throat. “Bluestar? Are you awake?”
Inside the den, he heard rustling as – presumably – Bluestar shifted her weight in her nest. “Tigerclaw?” Her voice was heavy with sleep. “Is something wrong?”
Tigerclaw hesitated just enough to sound embarrassed. “I’m sorry to come to you so late,” he meowed. “But I didn’t want to interrupt preparations and it’s...a bit of a sensitive matter.”
Silence from the den. Then –
“Come in, Tigerclaw.”
Tigerclaw pushed through the lichen curtain and into the leader’s den. “Thank you,” he said, dipping his head respectfully.
“Of course,” Bluestar murmured. “I am here for my clan.” Her whiskers twitched. “No matter the time of day. Or night.”
Tigerclaw purred apologetically. “As I said, it’s a sensitive matter. It’s about Firepaw.”
Immediately, Bluestar was more awake. “Firepaw? What about him?”
“I’m sure you remember the night he went missing,” Tigerclaw meowed, sitting down in the entrance to the den. “I noticed something when I was bringing him back to camp, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain.”
Bluestar sat up. “What did you notice?”
Tigerclaw took a deep breath. “There was the rogue scent, but it wasn’t the only scent I found on Firepaw. I also...”
Bluestar frowned. “Wait. What other scents did you find?”
Tigerclaw blinked. “I – er –”
This was, of course, the main information he wanted to reveal, but it was better if Bluestar thought it was her idea to make him tell her.
“Tigerclaw,” Bluestar said sternly. “Tell me.”
Tigerclaw dropped his head. “I smelled Lionheart,” he lied. “Under the smell of the rogues, and on Firepaw’s pelt.”
Bluestar frowned. “I didn’t smell anything of Lionheart when you brought him back.”
Tigerclaw grimaced. “Did you check? Or did you only get close after he woke up? After his denmates had been sharing tongues with him for half the night?”
It was a gamble, but an educated one. He’d been sitting there the entire time, after all, waiting on tenterhooks to make sure Firepaw wouldn’t wake back up. He’d thought the event at Sunningrocks was a fluke, that surely StarClan wouldn’t have given this kittypet kitten nine lives – but he’d had to see for himself.
And he had. Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to orchestrate a patsy for Firepaw’s murder. All that was left was to convince Bluestar of Lionheart and Redtail’s guilt (it was admirable, really, how far Redtail was willing to go to eliminate any potential threats to the clan, and Tigerclaw would be happy that Lionheart was so devoted to him if it hadn’t come to this).
Judging by the troubled look on Bluestar’s face, he was dealing with the fallout admirably. “This is a serious accusation,” she meowed. “You understand, Tigerclaw, that I cannot take solely your word on this?”
Tigerclaw nodded. “Of course, Bluestar,” he meowed smoothly. She wouldn’t need to. Darkstripe had seen Lionheart sneaking out of camp shortly after Redtail had left to look for the missing apprentices – which Tigerclaw had alerted him to, not that he knew it. It had been a simple matter to direct Bluestar’s attention to Sandpaw’s clumsy attempts to sneak out of camp.
“Thank you, Tigerclaw.” Bluestar lowered herself back into her nest. “Rest assured, I will think on what you’ve told me.”
Tigerclaw bowed his head and made to leave the den, then stopped as if something occurred to him. “There’s...something else,” he meowed hesitantly. “I wouldn’t have said anything, but… I saw Redtail and Lionheart speaking to Firepaw at the end of the day, and they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but Firepaw looked frightened when they confronted him.”
Bluestar’s gaze snapped up to meet Tigerclaw’s. “What are you saying?” she asked slowly.
Tigerclaw hesitated. “I don’t want to make assumptions –”
“Make assumptions,” Bluestar ordered. “I want to hear your thoughts. All of them.”
Tigerclaw didn’t trust himself to speak without giving away his glee. He dropped his head under the pretense of collecting his thoughts and allowed himself a tiny smile. When he raised his head again, his face was impassive. “I think,” he said slowly, “that Redtail is extremely devoted to ThunderClan, as a deputy. I think he would do whatever it took to eliminate something, or… someone that he saw as a threat to the clan.” He watched as Bluestar’s eyes began to narrow. “And I think… I think that Lionheart is far enough gone for Redtail that he’ll do whatever Redtail asks of him. And I think that they’re wanting to cover their tracks and keep Firepaw from speaking out.”
He’s just an apprentice, after all, he left unsaid, and a kittypet at that.
Bluestar seemed to hear it without Tigerclaw needing to say it, which was, frankly, ideal. “I see,” she said slowly. “You’ve done a lot of thinking on this. Thank you, Tigerclaw. You may go.”
Tigerclaw bowed his head and left the den, unable to keep the triumph out of his eyes.
All that was left now was Firepaw.
He headed back towards the warrior’s den but paused as he saw a pair of warm yellow eyes gazing at him. With a purr, he changed course to the nursery, greeting a slightly sleepy-looking Goldenflower by touching her nose with his own.
“Hello there,” she murmured, licking his cheek. “What are you so happy about?”
Tigerclaw considered his answer for a moment. “I think I’ve done a good thing tonight,” he told her, curling up at her side.
“Just tonight?” Goldenflower asked cheekily.
Tigerclaw flicked her ear with his tail playfully and she purred.
Burrowed against the fluff of Goldenflower’s belly fur, Swiftkit blinked open his eyes and looked around. He brightened when he saw Tigerclaw, struggling to his feet and yawning blearily. “Whuzzgoinon? Is ShadowClan attacking?”
Tigerclaw purred – he didn’t even have to force it, this time. Swiftkit was a fierce young cat – he’d be a fine warrior someday, Tigerclaw was sure of it. “Nothing so exciting,” he said. “Look at the size of you. How many moons are you now? It must be six, surely.”
“Two more days!” Swiftkit puffed himself up. “Then I can be an apprentice with Sandpaw ‘n Dustpaw ‘n Firepaw –”
Tigerclaw huffed at the mention of Firepaw, but luckily Swiftkit didn’t seem to notice. Goldenflower did, however, and her brow furrowed.
“– ‘n Ravenpaw ‘n Greypaw ‘n –” Swiftkit abruptly realized that he’d run out of apprentices and shut his jaws with a snap.
Tigerclaw smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be the best apprentice of them all.”
Swiftkit nodded vigorously. “I will!” he promised, bounding around Tigerclaw’s massive paws fearlessly, curling up against his broad shoulder. “I wish you were my real father,” he mumbled. “Not fussy old Patchpelt.”
“Swiftkit!” Goldenflower scolded.
Tigerclaw licked the kit’s head reassuringly. “You can think of me as such,” he told him, “if it helps.” Tigerclaw, of all cats, knew the pain of an embarrassing father.
Swiftkit beamed up at him.
“But for now,” Tigerclaw continued sternly, “I believe you’re supposed to be asleep.”
Swiftkit looked like he wanted to argue, but Goldenflower ushered him back into the nest and waited until he dozed off to sleep.
“Kits,” Tigerclaw meowed.
“Oh, don’t you start,” Goldenflower scolded. “You haven’t been stuck in the nursery for six moons.”
Tigerclaw purred. “Quite true. Speaking of… would you like to go for another walk?”
~~
Firepaw jumped awake as Lionheart prodded his ribs. “Firepaw. It’s time to talk to Bluestar.”
Immediately, Firepaw scrambled to his feet, giving himself a quick groom so he didn’t look like he’d just rolled out of a bramble patch. “Redtail?”
“Speaking to her already,” Lionheart told him. “Come on.”
Firepaw followed on Lionheart’s heels out of the den and across camp to where Redtail and Bluestar were exchanging heated whispers. As they got closer, Firepaw could make out what they were saying – and it made his heart sink.
“– not the time, Redtail,” Bluestar said testily.
“It’s important,” Redtail insisted. “Bluestar, you know me. You know I wouldn’t push on this if it wasn’t.”
“Enough,” Bluestar snapped. “We have enough to do preparing for the Gathering. If you have concerns, bring them to me after the Gathering.”
“I –” Redtail faltered under Bluestar’s frosty glare. “Very well. I’ll speak to you then.”
Bluestar nodded curtly and stepped away, heading towards the warrior’s den, glancing at Lionheart and Firepaw as she passed. Firepaw’s attention was distracted by Redtail padding over to them, frustration rolling off him in waves.
“Something’s wrong,” he murmured. “She won’t speak to me now. She’s insisting we wait until after the Gathering.”
Lionheart rumbled unhappily. “Then we’ll have to,” he said resignedly. “There’s no use in pushing the issue further.”
Redtail huffed. “You’re telling me,” he muttered. He turned to Firepaw. “I’ll find you after the Gathering. See to your duties.”
Firepaw nodded and split off from the two warriors, padding over to Yellowfang’s nest.
The thin drizzle of the previous night had soaked through the treetops and dripped down into camp, causing an uncomfortable night even for Firepaw, who had been tucked safely into the apprentice’s den.
Yellowfang stirred as he approached. “My bones ache this morning. Has it been raining all night?”
“Since just after moonhigh,” Firepaw replied, remembering being woken up by a steady drip from the branches above the apprentice’s den. He reached out and prodded her mossy nest cautiously. “Your bedding is soaking wet. Why don’t you move nearer to the nursery? It’s more sheltered there.”
Yellowfang hissed. “What? And be kept awake all night by those mewling kits! I’d rather get wet!”
Firepaw watched her circle stiffly on her mossy bed. “Then at least have some dry bedding,” he said, keen to drop the subject of kits if it upset the old she-cat so much.
“Thank you, Firepaw,” replied Yellowfang quietly, settling down again.
Firepaw blinked. “Are you feeling all right?”
Yellowfang snorted. “Don’t ask foolish questions. And don’t just stand there like a startled squirrel – go fetch some moss!”
Firepaw almost purred – that was more like Yellowfang. He nodded and sprinted off.
He almost crashed into Speckletail in the middle of the clearing. Yellowfang had snapped at her kit the other day, he recalled. What was the kit’s name – Mistkit? No – Mistlekit, that was it.
“Sorry, Speckletail,” Firepaw mewed. “Do you need something?”
“Actually, yes,” Speckletail meowed. “Bluestar wants to see you.”
Firepaw’s heart soared – maybe she’d changed her mind about hearing out Redtail and Lionheart! He hurried toward the Highrock and Bluestar’s den, frowning as he saw Whitestorm and Redtail leaving the camp with Sandpaw and Dustpaw. Perhaps she wanted to talk to him alone?
Bluestar was sitting outside, her head bobbing rhythmically as she licked the gray fur below her throat. She paused when she noticed Firepaw. “How is Yellowfang today?” she meowed.
“Her bedding is wet, so I was going to fetch her more,” Firepaw replied.
Bluestar shook her head dismissively. “I’ll ask one of the queens to see to that.” She eyed Firepaw carefully. “Is she fit enough to hunt for herself yet?”
Firepaw tilted his head as he considered the question. “I don’t think so,” he meowed, “but she can walk well enough now.”
“I see,” meowed Bluestar. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It is time for you to return to your training. You’ll be going out with Tigerclaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw this morning,” Bluestar continued. “ I’ve asked Tigerclaw to assess the warrior skills of all our apprentices. Don’t worry about Yellowfang; I’ll make sure someone sees to her while you are gone.”
Firepaw hesitated. “With... Tigerclaw?”
Bluestar regarded him curiously. “Yes, with Tigerclaw. Is something wrong?”
For a moment, Firepaw considered spilling everything that had happened to Bluestar then and there. But he had to assume that Redtail and Lionheart had a plan, that there was a reason they hadn’t come to Bluestar earlier. Instead, he dipped his head. “I’ll join the others.”
Graypaw and Ravenpaw were both waiting for him by their favorite tree stump. Graypaw looked stiff and uncomfortable, his long fur clumped by the dampness of the air, while Ravenpaw was pacing around the tree stump, lost in thought, the white tip of his tail twitching.
“So, you’re joining us today!” Graypaw called as Firepaw approached. “Some day, huh?” He shook himself roughly to get rid of the clinging wetness, sending a thick mist into the air.
Firepaw purred. “Some day,” he agreed. “Yellowfang’s bedding was soaked – I don’t envy whoever has to replace her bedding!”
“Come on! We should get going,” urged Ravenpaw. He had stopped pacing and now hovered beside them anxiously.
“Fine by me,” meowed Graypaw. “Hopefully some exercise will warm me up a bit!”
The three cats trotted through the gorse track and out of the camp. They hurried to the sandy hollow. Tigerclaw had not arrived, so they hung around in the shelter of a pine tree, their fur fluffed up against the chill.
“Ravenpaw,” Firepaw called over. “Are you okay?”
Ravenpaw glanced around nervously, stepping closer to Firepaw after scenting the air. “I think Tigerclaw’s planning something,” he murmured. “I saw him visiting Bluestar’s den last night.”
Firepaw frowned. “Did you see anything else?”
Ravenpaw shook his head. Before Firepaw could press him further, Tigerclaw slid out of the foliage and any chance of conversation was over.
Tigerclaw greeted them briskly and launched straight into the exercise details. “Your mentors have spent the last few weeks trying to teach you how to hunt decently,” he meowed. “Today you’ll have a chance to show me how much you have learned. Each of you will take a different route and hunt as much prey as possible. Whatever you catch will be added to the supplies in the camp.”
A quick glance revealed that Ravenpaw was practically twitching with nerves and that Greypaw looked oddly focused. As for Firepaw himself – his stomach was twisting itself up in knots, not at the challenge itself, but at the idea of being alone in the forest with Tigerclaw stalking him.
Again.
“Greypaw, you will take the route along the stream, as far as the Thunderpath,” Tigerclaw ordered.
“Great,” Greypaw muttered. “Wet paws for me.” Tigerclaw’s stare silenced him.
“Ravenpaw,” Tigerclaw continued, “You shall take the route through the Tallpines, past the Treecut place, to the woods beyond.”
Ravenpaw nodded jerkily.
“And Firepaw.” Tigerclaw turned to face him and Firepaw felt his fur ripple uneasily. “you will follow the trail beyond the Great Sycamore as far as Snakerocks.”
A chill ran through Firepaw’s marrow. Snakerocks. Was Tigerclaw trying to get him killed?
...well, yes. Yes, he was. Firepaw had rather empirical proof of that, actually. He swallowed and nodded.
“And remember,” Tigerclaw finished, fixing them all with his pale-eyed stare, “I shall be watching all of you.”
Ravenpaw darted off as soon as Tigerclaw had finished speaking.
“Good luck,” Greypaw told Firepaw fervently. “Snakerocks is crawling with adders. You’ll have to spend your entire time trying not to get bitten.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Firepaw said dryly, trying to sound surer of himself than he felt. “Good luck to you too.”
Greypaw shook his head. “Don’t wish me good luck, keep it for yourself!”
With that cheerful greeting, they split off in different directions, following the route that Tigerclaw had prescribed to them.
As Firepaw followed the trail towards the Grey Sycamore, a movement caught his eye – a mouse, scrabbling through the fallen leaves. Dropping into a hunter’s crouch, he stalked forward silently before pouncing on the unsuspecting creature, dispatching with a swift bite to the back of the neck.
He buried his prize and continued on, pausing to lap from a rainwater puddle on the edge of Snakerocks before leaping cautiously onto one of the boulders, crouching on the cool stone as he scanned the area for any signs of prey – or of adders.
Hunting was sparse here, but Firepaw made a few good catches – two mice, one too fat to get out of the way in time and the other wholly unaware of its dangers; and a thrush that had been entirely enthralled by a collection of seeds on the ground. He buried his catches near the mouse and turned back towards the Snakerocks in search of more prey when he felt a looming presence at his shoulder.
Slowly, he turned around to find none other than Tigerclaw.
“You’ve been hunting well so far,” Tigerclaw said neutrally, examining his claws.
“Thank you,” Firepaw meowed, at a loss for what else to say.
“Amazing, isn’t it,” Tigerclaw continued, as if Firepaw hadn’t spoken. “How quickly a life can be snuffed out.” He dropped his paw back to the ground and stared directly into Firepaw’s eyes. “If you breathe a word of what really happened that night, you will have a great deal of company in StarClan.”
Firepaw dropped his gaze, shrinking in on himself. He didn’t have to fake the tremble in his voice. “Of course, Tigerclaw,” he whispered. “Not a word.”
When he looked up, Tigerclaw was gone. He looked around, scented the air for any hint of where the massive tabby warrior had gone, but found nothing.
~~
Ravenpaw gaped at Firepaw as he trotted back to the training hollow, his head held high – partly out of pride, and partly to keep the massive adder he was carrying from tangling itself around his paws.
“You caught that?” he squeaked.
“I caught it,” Firepaw purred, depositing the scaley menace at Ravenpaw’s feet. “And that’s not all!”
A rustle in the grass made them both look over to where Greypaw emerged, holding a squirrel between his teeth. He spat it out, complaining about hairs in his teeth, and promptly stopped dead, staring at Firepaw.
“What in StarClan’s name?!” he demanded with a shriek.
Tigerclaw growled.
~~
Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw entered the camp, strolling behind Tigerclaw. Their impressive day’s catch hung from their mouths, although Ravenpaw kept tripping over his dead snake. As they emerged from the gorse into the camp, a group of young kits scrambled out of the nursery to watch them pass.
“Isn’t that the weirdo? Firepaw?” one of them whispered.
“Yeah! Look at his orange fur!”
“They say he’s a good hunter. He looks a bit like Lionheart – d’you think he’s as good as him?”
“No way! Nobody’s as good as Lionheart!”
“He caught an adder!”
Firepaw puffed up a little at the kit’s comments, depositing the adder on a nearby stump for the sole purpose of scaring the next cats to come into camp.
“I wonder if you can eat those?” Greypaw muttered, eyeing the snake speculatively.
Firepaw smacked him over the head with his tail. “Trust you to think of your stomach! I wouldn’t try it if I were you, it probably tastes worse than Yellowfang’s ticks.”
Ravenpaw purred with amusement at the horrified look on Greypaw’s face. “Do you know who’s going to the Gathering?” he meowed, looking inquisitively at Firepaw.
Firepaw shook his head. “I have no idea,” he confessed. “Maybe one of us – Sandpaw and Dustpaw have been twice already.”
“They’re still the eldest apprentices though,” Greypaw pointed out as they deposited their catches on the fresh-kill pile and took some food for themselves. “And this Gathering is important. ShadowClan’s invaded WindClan and this Gathering is the first time that all the clans will be together since then.”
“You are correct.”
Firepaw jumped as Bluestar spoke from behind him. He sat up in alarm, self-consciously licking flecks of chaffinch off his muzzle. “Bluestar!”
“Firepaw,” Bluestar returned. “I simply came to inform you that Tigerclaw tells me you hunted well, and that the three of you will be accompanying the clan to the Gathering. Congratulations.”
Greypaw yowled in delight as Bluestar took her leave. “Can you imagine the look on Sandpaw and Dustpaw’s faces?” he hissed, tail waving in delight. “Please let me be the one to tell them –”
“Be nice,” Firepaw meowed reproachfully, hiding a smirk of his own.
Greypaw rolled his eyes but subsided with a grumble of ‘wet nester’.
However, within moments they were all talking again, alternating wildly between hunting stories and speculating on the events of the Gathering. Firepaw’s fur prickled with excitement every time it was brought up. He was going to a Gathering – a Gathering he understood!
CHAPTER NOTES
Disclaimer - credit to Into the Wild chapters 10-11 for some of the lines (particularly pertaining to Yellowfang and parts of the hunting assessment).
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 to Ao3.
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Post by phantomstar57 on Jul 20, 2019 13:47:54 GMT -5
Great chapter as usual , but I do have one pet peeve. He should have spilled his guts to Bluestar and told her Tigerstar did it. His fear is letting this drag on. I know you probably have your reasons for having him clam up, but that is one thing in stories and even real life that bugs me is when people do not spill the truth when they get that great opportunity.
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 27, 2019 5:16:11 GMT -5
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The beats of the Gathering fell easily into place, slotting into Firepaw’s memories as if they’d never left. It was both worrying and reassuring to find that the future had not been altered to the point where he could no longer recognize it. Still, the sense of déjà vu was not exactly pleasant – it left him feeling feverish and with a pounding headache, barely able to concentrate on what Brokenstar was saying. He was demanding hunting rights from the other Clans, threatening to invade their territories as he’d done to WindClan.
WindClan, who had been – not driven out, but penned in like Twoleg pets, crowded back against the far borders of their territory. The realization was like a breath of fresh air, and he thought he heard a sigh of relief in his ear – but when he turned, it was only Greypaw, staring worriedly at the Great Rock.
“Crookedstar’s giving up hunting rights to ShadowClan?” he whispered. “There’s no way. RiverClan is still strong –”
“Shh!” Ravenpaw hissed from Greypaw’s other side. “We’re at a Gathering still! Other clans can hear you!”
Greypaw snapped his muzzle shut.
“And what of ThunderClan?” Smallear croaked. “Bluestar? Have you, too, agreed to this outrageous demand?”
Bluestar met the old cat’s gaze. “I have made no agreement with Brokenstar except that I shall discuss his proposal with my Clan after the Gathering.”
Greypaw let out a breath. “Well, at least there’s that.”
Ravenpaw meowed in agreement.
Brokenstar spoke up again, his arrogant tones rolling across the clearing. “I also bring news that is important to the safety of your kits. A ShadowClan cat has turned rogue and spurned the warrior code. We chased her out of our camp, but we do not know where she is now. She looks like a mangy old creature, but she has a bite like TigerClan.”
Murmurs swept through the ThunderClan cats, a few of them turning to look at Firepaw. Brokenstar noticed, his gaze fixing on Firepaw before he spoke, his eyes narrowing speculatively. “She is dangerous. I warn you – do not offer shelter to her. And –” Brokenstar paused dramatically, “– until she is caught and killed, I urge you to keep a close eye on your kits.”
Firepaw bristled. “As if ShadowClan isn’t the real risk to kits,” he hissed to Greypaw, who lashed his tail in agreement.
“You remember that?” Greypaw asked in an undertone.
“I remember telling Sandpaw about it,” Firepaw whispered back, shooting a glare back at Brokenstar, who was still staring directly at Firepaw.
“Brokenstar,” Bluestar snapped. “If you’ve nothing more to say –”
Brokenstar tossed his head. “Hardly,” he scoffed. “This Gathering is over. ShadowClan! We return home.”
As he bounded down from the Great Rock, the ShadowClan cats began to push their way through the assembled cats, heading back to the marshlands of their territory.
“What now?” Ravenpaw hissed, gaze swinging wildly between Greypaw and Firepaw. “If he’s talking about –”
“Do you know any other ShadowClan exiles?” Greypaw hissed.
Firepaw didn’t answer. He was too busy listening to the increasing snarls and mutters of ThunderClan. Tigerclaw and Darkstripe were the loudest, of course, but he was surprised to hear Speckletail’s voice joining them. Then he realized that of course a threat to the kits – real or otherwise – would have the old queen up in arms.
“Firepaw –”
“I have to warn Yellowfang,” Firepaw murmured, turning back to Ravenpaw and Greypaw. “They’ll –”
“I’ll go,” Ravenpaw volunteered immediately.
Firepaw blinked. “I can’t ask you to –”
“I’m volunteering,” Ravenpaw told him, sounding very scared and very determined. “I’m better at sneaking around then you, and Tigerclaw will have an eye out for you, and Redtail and Lionheart and probably Bluestar. Nobody will even look for me.”
“Ravenpaw, you can’t –” Greypaw protested.
Ravenpaw slapped his tail over Greypaw’s mouth and stared at Firepaw beseechingly.
“I can do it,” he promised.
Firepaw shook his head. “Will she even listen to you?”
“She might,” Ravenpaw said hopefully. “Especially if I tell her you sent me.”
Nerves twisting in his stomach, Firepaw nodded. “Go,” he meowed. “And be careful.”
~~
Ravenpaw bolted from the Gathering, slithering up the bank like an adder and rushing through the trees. There were two things he knew he could do, and do well – move quickly, and move quietly – and tonight he was doing both.
He was panting by the time he reached the edge of the ravine. He stopped, scenting the air – he was still alone – before descending into camp and slinking over to where Yellowfang made her nest. The old medicine cat was fast asleep, her nose tucked under one foreleg. Ravenpaw wrinkled his nest as he got close – Firepaw hadn’t been exaggerating when he complained about her smell.
“Yellowfang!” he hissed. “Wake up! Firepaw sent me – it’s important.”
Yellowfang’s eyes blinked open. “I wasn’t sleeping,” she meowed, raising her head. She sniffed. “Tcch. You came from the Gathering?”
Ravenpaw nodded.
“And Firepaw sent you,” Yellowfang mused. “Brokenstar must have kept his promise. What did he say about me? That I am a monster, a slayer of kits?”
Ravenpaw blinked, staring at the old medicine cat who seemed to know more than he did. “Um –”
Yellowfang grunted, dropping her head back onto her paws. “I know the truth, and so does StarClan. That will have to do.”
“You don’t understand,” Ravenpaw meowed, distressed. “Tigerclaw and Darkstripe – they’re coming for you –”
“Tigerclaw!” Yellowfang spat. “If only he had as much sense as his claws are long!”
The yowls of angry cats could be heard in the distance – Ravenpaw glanced nervously over his shoulder. “You should go,” he meowed. “They’re coming –”
Yellowfang rose to her feet. “I will not run,” she meowed. “I trust Bluestar to give me a fair hearing. But, one thing, apprentice – why did you warn me?”
Ravenpaw hesitated. “Firepaw wanted to,” he whispered. “But – he would have been missed.”
“Ah,” Yellowfang mused. “For Firepaw, then.”
Rustling in the undergrowth, just past the camp boundary, signaled the imminent arrival of the Gathering party. Yellowfang flicked her tail. “Rejoin your companions,” she meowed. “I am not going anywhere.”
Ravenpaw backed away, before the snap of a branch made him jump. He rushed to the side, out of view, just as the Gathering cats – led by Bluestar, with Redtail and Tigerclaw at her side – burst into the camp. Frostfur rushed to the nursery as soon as she squeezed past Lionheart’s broad shoulders, rushing to the nursery with Firepaw on her heels, his green eyes flicking anxiously around camp.
Ravenpaw bounded over to join him immediately. “She won’t leave,” he hissed, lashing his tail. “She says she trusts Bluestar to give her a fair trial – but –”
“It’s okay, Ravenpaw,” Firepaw meowed immediately, resting his tail on Ravenpaw’s shoulder. “You did your best.”
Ravenpaw nodded gratefully.
The rest of the clan had awoken, streaming out of their dens to join the others in the center of camp. “What happened?” called one voice, and Ravenpaw recognized it as Runningwind.
“ShadowClan has demanded hunting rights in our territory!” Longtail yowled, his voice full of outrage.
“And he warned of a rogue who would harm our kits!” Willowpelt added. “It must be Yellowfang –”
“It could be anyone!” Firepaw called out, despite Ravenpaw’s frantic hiss to keep quiet. “Yellowfang was sleeping when we arrived, and the kits are unhurt –”
“How do you know?” Darkstripe challenged, taking a pace forward.
Firepaw’s lip curled as he faced the dark warrior. “Use your head, Darkstripe,” he snapped. “Can you smell any blood in camp? Brindleface and Goldenflower were in the nursery the entire time – do you think any cat could have gotten past them?”
“But how do you know what Yellowfang was doing?!” Longtail shouted. “Unless you rushed ahead to warn her!”
Ravenpaw startled. Firepaw snorted. “Her nest is right out in the open, mouse-brain!” he yowled back. “I shredded your ear, not your head!”
Any retort from either Longtail or Darkstripe was drowned out by a yowl from Bluestar. “Silence!”
Instinctively, the clan settled, turning to the High Rock where Bluestar was standing, staring down at the clan with hard blue eyes.
A loud screech made every cat turn their head toward the fallen tree where the elders slept. Tigerclaw was dragging Yellowfang roughly from her nest. She shrieked furiously as he hauled her into the clearing and dumped her in front of the Highrock.
Firepaw hissed, but Greypaw nudged him sharply. “Wait,” he hissed. “Let Bluestar handle this.”
Firepaw nodded grudgingly. Ravenpaw couldn’t help but be relieved – listening to Firepaw trade insults with grown warriors was bad enough, but an actual fight? Ravenpaw didn’t think he could take it.
“What is going on?” demanded Bluestar, jumping down from the Highrock and glaring at Tigerclaw. “I gave no order to attack our prisoner.”
Tigerclaw dropped Yellowfang to the ground, where she crouched, hissing and spitting. “We may have returned in time now,” he growled, “but who’s to say we won’t be too late next time? We must throw her out – or kill her now!”
Bluestar fixed her piercing blue eyes on Tigerclaw’s stormy face. “And what has she done?” she asked with icy calm.
Ravenpaw held his breath. Next to him, Firepaw was bristling, but merifully he stayed quiet.
Darkstripe spoke up first. “You were at the Gathering! Brokenstar said she –”
“Brokenstar said only that there is a rogue somewhere in the woods,” Bluestar interrupted, her tone dangerous, holding the same calm as the sky before a storm. “He did not mention Yellowfang by name. The kits are safe. For as long as she is in my Clan, Yellowfang will not be harmed in any way.”
Bluestar’s words were met with silence, and Firepaw heaved a sigh of relief as Tigerclaw took a reluctant step back, his eyes downcast to avoid meeting the intensity of Bluestar’s gaze.
Yellowfang rose to her feet, bowing her head to Bluestar respectfully. “I will leave now, if you wish it, Bluestar.”
Bluestar shook her head. “There is no need,” she replied. “You have done nothing wrong. You will be safe here.”
The ThunderClan leader lifted her gaze to the crowd of cats that surrounded Yellowfang and meowed, “It is time we discussed the real threat to our Clan: Brokenstar. We have already begun to prepare for an attack by ShadowClan,” Bluestar began. “We’ll carry on with those preparations, and patrol our borders more frequently. WindClan has gone. RiverClan has given hunting rights to ShadowClan warriors. ThunderClanstands alone against Brokenstar.” A murmur of defiance rippled through the cats, and Firepaw felt his fur prickle with anticipation.
“Then we’re not going to agree to Brokenstar’s demands?” meowed Tigerclaw.
“Clans have never shared hunting rights before,” Bluestar answered. “They have always managed to support themselves in their own territories. There is no reason why this should change.”
Tigerclaw nodded approvingly.
“But can we defend ourselves against a ShadowClan attack?” asked Smallear’s tremulous voice.“WindClan didn’t manage it! RiverClan won’t even try!”
Bluestar met the old elder’s gaze. “We are not WindClan,” she meowed. “And we are not RiverClan. We will hold our ancient territory against Brokenstar’s invasion – but first, there is another matter we must discuss.” She leapt back onto the High Rock, settling herself on her haunches and curling her tail around her paws. “Redtail and Tigerclaw, please step forward.”
~~
Firepaw held his breath as Redtail padded forward to stand level with Tigerclaw. The pair traded narrow-eyed looks as confused murmurs swept through the clan, tails lashing – with nerves or anger, or a combination of both, Firepaw couldn’t say.
“Last night,” Bluestar began. “Tigerclaw brought me new information regarding the attack by rogues on one of our apprentices, Firepaw, that happened a moon ago. He told me that when he recovered Firepaw, he found the scent of another ThunderClan cat alongside those of the rogues.”
Confused murmurs swept through the camp. Longtail hissed. Darkstripe’s tail lashed. Runningwind and Mousefur exchanged uncertain looks. Firepaw held his breath – there had been a cat there that night, but it had been Tigerclaw – so what was the tabby warrior’s game?
“Lionheart,” Bluestar called. “Can you account for your whereabouts that night, after moon-high?”
Shocked cries rose from the assembled cats. Lionheart looked thunderstruck, staring up at Bluestar uncomprehendingly. Redtail’s indignant yowl rose above all the others. “Bluestar, this is nonsense –”
Bluestar raised her tail for silence. A hush fell over the camp. “Lionheart?”
“I – I was in camp,” Lionheart stammered. “I never left!”
“Clearly, you did,” Tigerclaw growled. He fell silent at a sharp reprimand from Bluestar, but continued to stare balefully at Lionheart.
Lionheart hissed angrily. “I tell you, I never left the camp that night!”
Patchpelt’s voice rose tremulously from the crowd. “Lionheart, I… I’m sorry, but I saw you leave the den. You went into the dirtplace, but I never saw you come out.”
At Firepaw’s side, Greypaw was trembling. “He didn’t – he didn’t!” he hissed fiercely. “Firepaw, you have to tell them –”
But Firepaw was struck dumb with shock. Lionheart? Of all cats, Tigerclaw was accusing Lionheart?
“I was getting a drink!” Lionheart snapped. “Is that a crime, now?”
“Peace,” Bluestar ordered. “Did any cat go with you, Lionheart?”
Lionheart shook his head. “I – no. I was only gone for a few moments, I swear –”
Whitestorm spoke up. “I can vouch for that,” he called. “I woke up when Lionheart left, and I was still awake when he returned. He was not gone long.”
Firepaw jumped as Sandpaw let out a sigh of relief to his left. “What?” she hissed. “You thought I was gonna sleep through this?”
“Where’s Dustpaw?” Firepaw whispered back.
Sandpaw jerked her head towards Redtail’s right; in the shadows, Firepaw saw Dustpaw crouching near his mentor, eyes fixed on Tigerclaw.
“Long enough to leave his scent near the Twolegplace,” Tigerclaw countered. “And on the fur of a near-dead apprentice, no less!”
Finally, Firepaw found his voice. “Did anyone else smell him?” he called out, fixing his eyes on Tigerclaw, “Or do we only have your word?”
Tigerclaw whipped around to glower at Firepaw. Firepaw glared right back.
Greypaw spoke up immediately. “I didn’t smell Lionheart!” he shouted. “I was there when Tigerclaw brought his body back, and the only scent I found on his pelt was Tigerclaw’s!”
Tigerclaw hissed. “You are Lionheart’s apprentice,” he spat contemptuously. “Of course you’d want to defend your mentor –”
“I didn’t smell Lionheart either!” Dustpaw yowled. “You think we would have kept quiet about something like that?”
“You would if your mentor ordered it!” Tigerclaw hissed.
Hisses swept through the clan at the implications – Redtail was not only the deputy, but a well-loved member of ThunderClan and a loyal warrior. Accusing him of murder? It was unthinkable.
To anyone but Tigerclaw.
“Enough of this!” Bluestar snapped. “Tigerclaw, you have accused Lionheart of murdering, or arranging for the murder, of Firepaw on Redtail’s behalf. The evidence you offer is the scent of Lionheart on Firepaw’s pelt and the growing partnership between the both of them. Furthermore, you believe you saw Redtail and Lionheart intimidating Firepaw into holding his silence. However – we have disputes over whether Lionheart’s scent was actually present on Firepaw’s fur. Are there any other witnesses who can speak to this?” she asked, casting her gaze over the clan.
“I didn’t smell it,” Sandpaw said immediately. “I was grooming Firepaw’s fur most of the night and I never caught any whiff of Lionheart.”
“N-neither did I,” Ravenpaw spoke up nervously, shifting his weight from paw to paw. He ducked behind Firepaw as Tigerclaw switched his glare from Dustpaw to Ravenpaw.
“What’s that you were saying about apprentices obeying their mentor’s orders?” Whitestorm remarked, voice cool.
“They’re apprentices!” Longtail protested. “Surely we can’t take their word over that of a warrior –”
“Firepaw’s our denmate,” Sandpaw spat. “Just because you don’t have a loyal bone in your body –”
“Sandpaw!”
Sandpaw ducked her head at Whitestorm’s reprimand.
Bluestar nodded gratefully at Whitestorm. “There is more,” she meowed. “As we returned to the Gathering, Redtail made a case of his own to me – as some of you will recall, it was Redtail who led the patrol to find Firepaw that night.”
“Convenient,” Darkstripe grumbled.
Bluestar ignored him. “He informed me that even after visiting the borders of the Twolegplace, he found no sign of Firepaw, nor any rogues. When he followed Firepaw’s scent trail, however, he found another scent – Tigerclaw’s.”
Darkstripe screeched in outrage. “Of course he did! Tigerclaw’s the one who found Firepaw and brought him back!”
“Like you care,” Greypaw growled.
But Firepaw was done with this. He’d had enough – Redtail had laid the groundwork by talking to Bluestar, the false accusation of Lionheart had broken the clan’s confidence in its senior warriors, and now Firepaw stepped forward, head held high. “Of course he found Tigerclaw’s scent!” he called, shouting loudly enough to be heard over the din. “He’s the one who tried to murder me!”
The silence that fell over the camp was deafening.
Bluestar took a long breath. “Firepaw,” she meowed. “Is this your official statement?”
Firepaw nodded. “Yes, Bluestar. It is. I was attacked by Tigerclaw and tortured for information about my past.”
Frostfur made a horrified noise.
“When I refused to tell him,” Firepaw continued, clamping down on the wellspring of emotions that had suddenly rushed to the surface, threatening to strangle him – panic, fear, pain – what if what if what if – help me – “He tried to kill me – or did kill me, I’m still not sure which – and brought me back to ThunderClan, claiming it was the work of rogues.” Firepaw swallowed, his throat suddenly bone-dry. “He lied. It was all his doing.”
With a roar of outrage, Tigerclaw lunged across the clearing at Firepaw, claws extended and gleaming in the moonlight.
Training, and instincts Firepaw hadn’t realized he still had, took over. He shot forward, underneath Tigerclaw’s outstretched paws, and spun around in time to see Tigerclaw crash awkwardly into the ground. Immediately, Sandpaw and Greypaw leapt on top of him, sinking their claws into his fur.
Bluestar’s voice rang out over the camp. “Restrain him.”
Whitestorm, Lionheart, and Redtail descended upon the former warrior, pinning him effortlessly as the apprentices scrambled away. Dustpaw crept forward as Redtail’s second shadow, ready to join the fray if Redtail was in the slightest bit of danger – but Tigerclaw was all but immobilized beneath the weight of the three warriors.
“Tigerclaw,” Bluestar said, “do you have anything to say in your defense?”
Tigerclaw hissed furiously. “Defend myself? To you? You gutless excuse for a leader – you sit here in your camp, building up your walls and stores, instead of leading the clan out to fight, like real warriors – you and your deputy –” he spat, twisting to glare at Redtail, whose face was like stone, “you let RiverClan take Sunningrocks from us, time and time again, and what do you do about it? Nothing! You bring in kittypets and hide behind your medicine cat, bring enemies into the heart of our camp – I would never show such softness. I would have led this clan back to the days of TigerClan!”
“And how many cats would have died for it?” Bluestar murmured. “If you have nothing else to say, then I sentence you to exile,” she announced. Much of the cold implacability she had shown only shortly before was gone, replaced by bone-deep tiredness and a deep-seated reluctance to exile one of her best warriors – even for crimes as heinous as this. “You will leave ThunderClan territory now, and if any cat sees you here after sunrise tomorrow, they have my permission to kill you.”
“Kill me?” Tigerclaw sneered. “I’d like to see any of them try. As for you –” he turned his baleful gaze on Firepaw. “Cross my path again, you kittypet filth, and you won’t live to see another dawn.”
“You keep saying that,” Firepaw meowed, “and yet here I am.”
“Enough,” Bluestar meowed. “Tigerclaw, leave our sight.”
Redtail, Lionheart, and Whitestorm stepped back, allowing Tigerclaw to climb to his feet. He looked around, scanning the crowd of cats with hackles raised. “Don’t think I’m finished,” he growled. “I’ll be a leader yet, and no cat – alive or dead –” he spared a venomous glare for Firepaw, who was quickly becoming immune, “is going to stop me. Any cat who comes with me will be well looked after. Darkstripe?”
Firepaw looked over his shoulder to Tigerclaw’s second in all but name, expecting the sleek tabby to jump at the chance to follow his idol. He felt a wave of disappointment when Darkstripe remained in place.
“I trusted you, Tigerclaw,” he meowed. “I thought… I thought you were the finest warrior in the forest. But you did – you did all this, and you didn’t even tell me?” He shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t trust you anymore.”
Tigerclaw huffed. “Longtail?”
Longtail gave a nervous start. “Come with you?” he echoed, stepping back. “Into exile? I – no. You – you tried to kill an apprentice. I can’t. I’m loyal to ThunderClan!”
And a coward, Firepaw thought, but he appreciated that he got a passing mention.
Uncertainty rippled across Tigerclaw’s face, but it was gone in the space of a heartbeat. He drew himself up to his full height, eyes blazing with cold fury. “Then I’ll leave. But I’ll be back; you can be sure of that.” He stalked for the camp entrance, tail lashing. He stopped at the tunnel entrance, looking back over his shoulder at Redtail and Firepaw. “As for you two…” he hissed, “keep your eyes open. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking over your shoulder all you like – it won’t matter. One day I’ll find you, and you’ll be crowfood.”
“Get out,” Redtail hissed.
Tigerclaw spat. He padded forward. The gorse tunnel swallowed him – and he was gone.
In the nursery, Goldenflower let out a quiet sob of despair.
CHAPTER NOTES
Disclaimer - credit to Into the Wild chapters 12-13 for some of the lines (particularly pertaining to the post-Gathering meeting about Yellowfang) and to chapter 29 of Forest of Secrets for most of the dialogue when Tigerclaw is (finally) exiled.
Don't run off just yet - Tigerclaw may be exiled, but he's not dead.
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 to Ao3.
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Post by phantomstar57 on Jul 27, 2019 11:08:28 GMT -5
Excellent chapter and FINALLY the truth comes out! I am loving this story. . . .
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 27, 2019 14:55:40 GMT -5
Thank you! Firepaw can definitely breathe a little easier now that Tigerclaw's out of the clan.
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Post by ᴄᴏɴɪ﹣ғᴇʀᴏᴜs on Jul 28, 2019 6:58:52 GMT -5
Ohhh snap we got some revelations!
I love this AU, it's so unique, and the turns and twists on the various plots based on the first series are great!
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Post by copperfur on Jul 30, 2019 21:27:49 GMT -5
I finally caught up. You are an excellent writer, can I just say? Though, I personally would've had Tigerclaw killed.
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Post by SmugGull on Jul 30, 2019 23:05:23 GMT -5
Ahh! Thank you both!! I did actually consider killing off Tigerclaw, but since Firepaw is still alive and Tigerclaw was also exiled at the end of Book 3, after conspiring with Brokentail to attack ThunderClan and kill Bluestar, I figured he probably wouldn't be executed here either. At least, not on Bluestar's orders. We really don't see any evidence of the death penalty in Clan culture - it doesn't really seem to be a concept, even. Even Brokenstar didn't execute Yellowfang after framing her for murder so I don't think it's something that the clans even consider, at least in canon. Maybe that changes in the newer series though, I still haven't read past The Last Hope. |
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Post by SmugGull on Aug 3, 2019 4:36:55 GMT -5
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Pinestar was waiting when Firestar finally fell asleep, only to awaken in the now-familiar meadow. Jake was at his side, bouncing on his toes.
The old leader bowed his head respectfully as Firestar rose to his feet. “You’ve done it,” he murmured. “You’ve cast my son out from ThunderClan, never to return.”
Firestar dipped his head in response. “Let’s hope.”
Pinestar shook his head. “What’s done cannot be undone – ThunderClan won’t take him back, no matter what he does. He may still be a threat in days to come, but he is hidden no longer. Bluestar will have her guard up.”
“I hope you’re right,” Firestar murmured. There was an unsettling weight in his stomach, one that warned him that things might not be so easy. “But you think he’ll come back?”
Pinestar sighed. “I hope I’m wrong,” he meowed. “But, yes. Tigerclaw’s threats are never empty.”
Firestar grunted.
“But he’s out of the way for now, at least,” Jake jumped in. “Brokenstar’s your main problem now. WindClan is still under attack – they’re trapped in their camp, barely able to sneak out to hunt. Thank StarClan some of the old tunnels are still intact –”
Firestar’s ears pricked up. “Tunnels?”
“Tunnels,” Jake repeated. “I’ve never seen them use them, but they’re still there.”
Pinestar nodded. “Heatherstar discontinued tunneling in WindClan long ago – when Tallstar was still young.” He looked over to Jake. “But you say WindClan is using them?”
Jake nodded. “They’re sending hunting parties through them, but they’re too dangerous for the elders, queens, and kits. Tallstar send warriors to RiverClan to ask for aid, but they were turned away.”
Firestar frowned, pacing the ground in front of the two older toms. “Why haven’t they approached ThunderClan?” he asked, trying to picture the situation WindClan found themselves in. ShadowClan was large, but they didn’t have the numbers to hold the entire territory – so they had to cut off WindClan at a chokepoint – the entrance to their camp, presumably.
“Tallstar’s injured,” Jake said, his voice wobbling slightly with worry. “His deputy – um, Deadfoot?”
Pinestar nodded.
“Deadfoot,” Jake repeated, more confidently. “He doesn’t think ThunderClan will help any more than RiverClan did.”
Firestar growled in frustration. “Then he’s a fool – of course we’d help! Every clan in the forest has its place; WindClan is no different.”
“You know that, and I know that,” Pinestar pointed out, “but not every cat does. ThunderClan’s border is further than RiverClan’s, and with ShadowClan patrolling WindClan’s territory, he’s likely decided it’s not worth the risk.”
Jake shook his head. “Perhaps he’ll change his mind,” he offered, not sounding particularly hopeful. “Or Tallstar will send for ThunderClan once he recovers.”
Firestar dipped his head. “We can hope,” he meowed tiredly. “Is there anything else?”
Pinestar shook his head. “Nothing I have seen, but I cannot see everything.”
“Nothing new there,” Firestar muttered. “Jake?”
Jake shook his head reluctantly. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”
~~
“Spottedleaf?” Firepaw called, nosing his way into the medicine den. He hoped he wasn’t waking her up – he’d jolted awake before sunrise, haunted by jumbled visions of blood and fur and claws flashing in the sunlight. “Do you have any poppy seeds? Yellowfang’s leg is bothering her and – oh. Sorry, Bluestar.”
Bluestar, standing next to Spottedleaf as the young medicine cat sorted herbs, looked up. “Hello, Firepaw,” she meowed. “How is Yellowfang? Aside from the obvious.”
Firepaw dipped his head respectfully. “She’s doing well enough. Darkstripe is giving her a wide berth.”
Spottedleaf snorted, bringing the poppy seeds over to Firepaw. “Warn her not to take too many. I’m sure she knows, but it doesn’t hurt to remind her.”
Firepaw grinned. “It might hurt me.”
Bluestar snorted softly. “Do try to escape a clawing, if you would, Firepaw. I’ll be visiting the Moonstone and I’d like you to accompany me.”
Firepaw straightened, his pelt prickling. The Moonstone? “Of course, Bluestar,” he meowed. “Will... will anyone else be going?”
“Greypaw and Ravenpaw,” Bluestar answered. “It is customary for all apprentices to make the journey, after all – and Lionheart as well. Once you’ve tended to Yellowfang, please inform them. We leave as soon as the sun rises.”
Firepaw nodded enthusiastically, bounding out of the den and trotting over to Yellowfang,
“What are you so pleased about?” she growled, snatching the poppy seeds from him.
“Bluestar’s going to the Moonstone,” he meowed, swishing his tail happily. “I’m to accompany her.”
Yellowfang grunted. “Your first time, I take it. Congratulations.” She didn’t sound terribly impressed. “The first dream from StarClan is always a memorable one.”
Firepaw snorted. “I don’t even remember my first dream from StarClan,” he muttered.
Yellowfang’s ears twitched. “You don’t?”
Firepaw shook his head. “I wish I did – oh, actually, I need to go gather the others for the trip to the Moonstone. Have a good day, Yellowfang!”
He felt Yellowfang’s eyes on him as he padded towards the apprentice’s den. He – probably shouldn’t have told her as much as he did, but he trusted her, the same way he’d trusted Sandpaw and Greypaw without a moment’s hesitation. He almost felt liked he owed her an explanation.
Maybe when his memories came back – and he was sure they would, just as Pinestar had said. A small part of him grumbled that it was another lie from StarClan, but he pushed it aside. StarClan did a lot of things – but they didn’t lie.
As far as he knew, at least.
“Greypaw,” he called softly. “Ravenpaw. Wake up.”
A pair of sleep-heavy green eyes appeared instantly in Ravenpaw’s pitch-dark silhouette. Greypaw woke a little slower, stretching and yawning as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Whassgoinon?”
“We’re going to the Moonstone with Bluestar and Lionheart,” Firepaw told them, nudging Greypaw with his foot. “We’re leaving at dawn.”
Greypaw flailed, somehow managing to end up on his feet. Ravenpaw ducked out of the way, circling warily around the edge of the den to stand next to Firepaw. “We’re going to the Moonstone?” he asked.
Firepaw nodded. “Unless Bluestar was having me on, yeah.”
Greypaw barged out of the apprentice’s den, practically bouncing with energy. “C’mon, we gotta get our herbs from Spottedleaf – wait, you said Lionheart was coming too? Is he up already?”
Firepaw shook his head. “I was about to go wake him.”
“I’ll do it,” Greypaw volunteered immediately, spinning on his heels. “See you in the medicine den –”
Firepaw huffed in soft amusement as his friend pranced off towards the warrior’s den. “Best of luck to him. At least Tigerclaw’s not there anymore,” he offered, glancing over to Ravenpaw.
Ravenpaw purred. “That’s a relief,” he meowed. “I... I kept waiting for him to come after me next. I don’t know why he did.”
“Maybe he was spooked,” Firepaw suggested. “Worried you wouldn’t stay dead like you should.”
“Maybe,” Ravenpaw murmured. “I think you scared him. Still do, even.”
Firepaw laughed. “I’m flattered,” he meowed as they ducked into Spottedleaf’s den.
Spottedleaf immediately pushed bundles of herbs towards them. “Well, half of you are here, at least.”
Bluestar spoke up from her place in the corner of the den. “Where are Greypaw and Lionheart?” she asked.
“On their way,” Firepaw promised, grimacing at the bitter taste of the traveling herbs. “Greypaw offered to go wake Lionheart.”
Bluestar nodded.
Greypaw and Lionheart approached not soon after. Greypaw was still bouncing about excitedly, weaving around Lionheart’s front paws, nearly tripping the older warrior twice in the time it took them to approach Spottedleaf. As soon as they’d eaten their herbs, Bluestar was ushering them out of camp, pausing only for a moment to exchange a few quiet words with Redtail, who nodded and wished them well.
The group, with Bluestar in the lead, Firepaw at her flank, and Lionheart bringing up the rear, retracted their route to Fourtrees from the previous night, aiming to cut through the edge of WindClan territory before crossing the Thunderpath to reach Highstones.
As they climbed out of the Fourtrees hollow, the scents of the Gathering still lingering in their noses, the ground turned from soft soil into craggy boulders, before giving way to a steep cliff face leading to the wide plateau that made up most of WindClan territory.
What WindClan scent was present was stale – the scent markings of ShadowClan, however, were fresh and pungent.
Greypaw wrinkled his nose. “Ugh! They smell like crowfood!”
Firepaw snorted softly. “I doubt we smell much better to them.” He frowned, opening his jaws to taste that. “I smell a patrol –”
“They’re upwind,” Bluestar meowed. “They won’t know we’re here if we keep moving.”
They moved on quickly, leaping over the rocks, pushing their way through the sweet-smelling heather. Every few steps, Firepaw tasted the air, glancing over his shoulder to see if the ShadowClan patrol – or Tigerclaw, offered his lingering paranoia – was stalking them.
“No sign of them,” Lionheart murmured, after the third time. He made no comments after that, much to Firepaw’s relief.
The odor grew fainter and fainter, eventually disappearing in the background of ShadowClan’s boundary markers as they neared the edge of the uplands.
Bluestar stopped suddenly. “Lionheart –”
“Bluestar?”
Firepaw started as a new voice emerged from the undergrowth ahead. Onestar – no, that can’t be right –
“Onewhisker.” Bluestar nodded politely. “How fares WindClan? We missed you at the Gathering.”
I know you. How do I know you?
Onewhisker snorted. “That should tell you all you need to know. ShadowClan has hemmed in from all sides – we can barely sneak out to hunt enough food for the queens and kits.” He glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “Deadfoot won’t send word to ThunderClan.”
“Deadfoot?” Lionheart echoed. “Is Tallstar not still the leader of WindClan?”
Onewhisker nodded. “He is, but he was injured in the most recent attack by ShadowClan. Deadfoot’s in charge until he recovers.” There was a slight waver in the young warrior’s voice – Firepaw couldn’t tell if he feared Tallstar losing a life, or if he feared Deadfoot’s rule.
The tabby warrior continued, “He doesn’t think you’ll help – but I – we can’t beat ShadowClan on our own. We need another clan’s help.” His amber eyes were wide and guileless. “Not even the whole clan. Just – something.”
Firepaw stepped up next to Bluestar. “Every clan has a place in the forest,” he murmured. “StarClan placed us here for a reason.” He wasn’t sure if they had, frankly – but the clans belonged together, and WindClan was no exception.
Bluestar waved her tail in acknowledgement. “I will remember that,” she told Onewhisker. “But for now, I must go to the Moonstone. Hunt well.”
Onewhisker nodded, taking a step back. “Safe travels,” he meowed, before turning and vanishing into the undergrowth.
“That was troubling,” Lionheart remarked quietly.
Bluestar nodded. “One more question for StarClan,” she murmured.
They continued on in silence. Greypaw and Ravenpaw exchanged looks, having some kind of silent conversation as they walked – Firepaw was so focused on them that he nearly walked directly into Bluestar, who had stopped at the edge of WindClan’s territory.
“Be careful,” she warned. “We’re approaching a Twoleg nest. It keeps dogs here – they’re often tied up, but keep your wits about you.”
Firepaw nodded, his pelt prickling at the thought of dealing with dogs. He shivered, old, hidden feelings of fear crawling up his spine and making his head throb.
Something with dogs – he hoped it wasn’t related to their trip to the Moonstone.
“We’ll be there by moonrise if we keep this pace,” Bluestar assured them, bounding forward. “Follow me.”
Hugging the line of hedges, the group walked on. Once or twice Firepaw could smell prey-scent from the bushes, but the herbs had taken the edge of his hunger and he ignored it.
Even in the shadows of the hedges, the greenleaf sun beat down on Firepaw’s back, making his fur almost uncomfortably hot. The Twoleg nest itself stood on a wide expanse of hard white stone, surrounded around the edges by smaller nests. Firepaw followed Bluestar as she slunk, low to the ground, past the fence that surrounded the Twoleg nest.
A sudden barrage of barking and snarling made them spin around. Firepaw’s hackles rose and he hissed, claws sliding out as his heart skipped a beat. Dogs!
Lionheart peered through the fence. “It’s all right,” he hissed. “They’re tied up.”
Firepaw stared at the growling, barking creatures straining at their ties, lips drawn back to reveal huge, lethal-looking teeth. For how much longer?
Bluestar led them onward – by the time they’d reached the Thunderpath, the sun was starting to set.
“We’ll go one at a time,” she meowed. “I’ll go first – apprentices, take note and see how it’s done.”
Firepaw nodded. He kept his eyes fixed on Bluestar as she padded to the edge of the Thunderpath, her gaze flicking up and down the vast expanse of black stone. She waited calmly as one monster after another flew past, ruffling her fur. Then, when the earsplitting roar paused for a moment, she raced across to the other side.
“Firepaw,” Lionheart meowed, “you next.”
Firepaw crouched at the edge, squinting his eyes as grit and dust were kicked into his face by the monsters’ massive paws. The roar dimmed, then vanished.
“Go!” Lionheart hissed, but Firepaw had already lunged forward, pelting across the road as fast as he could.
He skidded to a halt on the other side of the Thunderpath, panting as a monster flew past only a whisker-length away from his tail.
Greypaw was lucky – a long lull let him cross safely, with Ravenpaw on his heels.
Then it was Lionheart’s turn.
He waited at the edge of the Thunderpath, his eyes fixed on an approaching monster. Suddenly, the monster veered off the Thunderpath – heading straight for Lionheart!
Greypaw yelped in fear as Lionheart backwards – the monster veered back onto the Thunderpath and for a moment, Lionheart’s form was lost in the confusion.
“Lionheart!” Greypaw yowled. “Lionheart!”
Lionheart stumbled out of the dust cloud and onto the Thunderpath, panting heavily. He sprinted across, panting heavily.
“I thought you were crowfood!” Greypaw cried as his mentor landed safely on the hard-packed earth.
Lionheart nodded. “So did I, for a moment,” he answered wryly. “I’m all right. Bluestar, shall we?”
Bluestar nodded, concern plain on her face, but she turned and lead them onward.
The earth was darker on this side of the Thunderpath and the grass felt coarser underfoot. As they approached the edge of Highstones, the grass gave way to bare, rocky soil, dotted with patches of heather. The land sloped up now, towards the sky. Craggy rocks topped the slope, turned blazing orange in the setting sun.
Bluestar stopped once more. She chose a sun-warmed rock to sit on, flat and wide enough for all five cats to rest side by side. “Look,” she meowed, tilting her muzzle towards the dark cavern before them. “Mothermouth.”
Firepaw peered into it. It seemed – familiar. Not like a home, but like a sanctuary; an ancient place that would abide no petty quarrels or small-minded scheming. A place of peace, if not necessarily of comfort.
The cats waited in silence, soaking up the last rays of the run.
“We’ll wait here until the moon is higher,” meowed Bluestar. “Lionheart, you should hunt if you are hungry – Firepaw, Greypaw, Ravenpaw, you will be presented before StarClan as apprentices of ThunderClan and thus may not eat until after we emerge.”
Lionheart nodded. “I am fine, Bluestar. I will wait for you.”
Bluestar dipped her head. “Very well.”
They waited side by side until the warmth had seeped out of the rock on which they lay, the cold black shadows reaching up on all sides like claws. Only then did Bluestar call out, “Come. It is time.”
Bluestar stood and began to pad towards Mothermouth, Firepaw on her heels. Greypaw followed after a moment’s hesitation.
“Come on, Ravenpaw!” he called. Ravenpaw, who had been staring up at Mothermouth in awe, startled and raced after them.
“I will know the way,” Bluestar promised as they descended into the darkness. “Just follow my scent.”
Inside the cave, Firepaw could see nothing. The complete and utter blackness felt strange, but... comforting, in a way. There was no harm to be found here.
The cold, damp air reached through his fur and into his bones, stiffening his muscles – even the chill of the coldest nights couldn’t compare to the frosty bite of the air here. The rock beneath his paws was smooth as ice – freezing air filled his lungs with each breath, making him light-headed.
He followed Bluestar through the darkness, occasionally feeling Ravenpaw or Greypaw’s pelts brush against him. Ravenpaw was coiled more tightly than a startled adder, but Greypaw’s scent was filled with curiosity.
On and on they went. How far have we come? Firepaw wondered. Then his nose twitched – the air was fresher here. He sniffed again, relief trickling through his pelt as he caught the familiar scents of the world above: peat and prey, heather and crushed grass.
“We have entered the cavern of the Moonstone,” Bluestar murmured. “Wait here. It will be moonhigh soon.”
Firepaw folded his legs under him on the chilly stone floor and waited, feeling the press of Greypaw’s pelt against his and the weight of Ravenpaw’s cheek against his shoulder.
Suddenly, in a blinding flash, the cave was lit up. Firepaw yelped as his eyes – wide open from the blackness of the tunnel – were painfully overwhelmed with cold, white light.
When he finally pried his eyes back open, he saw a gleaming rock, glittering as if it were constructed from countless dewdrops. The Moonstone.
He stared in awe – the light from the Moonstone was bright enough to illuminate the shadowy edges of the high-roofed cavern from where it stood, rising up from the middle of the floor, three tail-lengths high. Bluestar was staring upward, her fur bleached white in the glow of the Moonstone – even Ravenpaw’s dark pelt shone silver.
“Approach the Moonstone,” Bluestar said softly. “Touch your nose to it and let the spirits of our warrior ancestors speak to you.”
For a moment, none of them moved. Then Firepaw, overwhelmed with curiosity – will Pinestar be there? – crept forward, lying down in front of the Moonstone and touching his nose to the cold rock.
Immediately, he fell into a slumber – a dream that felt like falling, tumbling through impenetrable darkness as the light of the Moonstone rose above him until it was as impossibly high as the stars themselves – and then there were more stars, appearing in the sky as trees, heavy with leaves, formed out of the shadows and solid, grassy ground rose up to meet his paws. He gasped, wheezing in a great breath, and stared around.
This was not Pinestar’s clearing – but the gentle shine of starlight and the warm, welcoming press of air was unmistakable, even if it were possible that he was anywhere else.
This was StarClan.
“Firestar.”
He turned, distantly aware of an old ache in his shoulders – he was taller now as well – and saw Sunstar sitting behind him, his yellow eyes fixed on Firestar.
“Sunstar,” Firestar greeted, dipping his head.
“Firestar,” Sunstar intoned, his voice echoing into the forest to sound like a chorus of a thousand cats. “What do you remember?”
Firestar opened his mouth. “I –”
And suddenly, with a blinding stab of agony –
He remembered everything.
CHAPTER NOTES
Disclaimer - credit to Into the Wild chapter 14 for some of the lines.
HALLELUJAH, he's BACK! Really, properly back - although this might cause more problems than it solves, considering the circumstances.
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 to Ao3.
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Post by phantomstar57 on Aug 5, 2019 20:03:38 GMT -5
YES!!!!
He REMEMBERS!!!!! Can't wait for the next chapter.
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Post by SmugGull on Aug 10, 2019 1:04:42 GMT -5
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bluestar watched in horror as the ShadowClan warriors swarmed over ThunderClan’s walls, cruel claws flashing in the sunlight. Beside her, Moonflower looked grim.
“You must move quickly,” Moonflower said. “I do not -”
Her words were cut off as the world around them was slammed into darkness, the vision of the attack swallowed by a lightless void. Moonflower vanished in a shimmer of silver, leaving Bluestar alone.
“Moonflower?” she called out, staring around wildly, unable to see her own muzzle. “Moonflower!”
A chorus of unfamiliar voices rose around her, one clearer than the rest. “I was there when Ashfur died, and his death was my fault… I saw Ashfur besides the stream…”
“What happened was a tragic accident,” a new voice snapped out, angry and insistent.
“Firepaw!” Bluestar called. But this cat sounded older, angrier - exhausted. Not Firepaw, but... Firestar?
“What’s done is done,” Firestar continued. “It’s going to be hard for you now…”
The voices of Firestar and the she-cat faded into the chorus.
Greypaw’s voice echoed through the darkness. “We must be mad.”
“What else could we do? Let them starve?” There was Firepaw again - not old and weary, but young. Desperate.
“No! But we’ll have to be careful. We’ll be crowfood if Bluestar finds out.”
As the voices of the apprentices died away, Bluestar heard her own voice cutting through the darkness, cold and angry. “How long have you been visiting Twolegplace?”
Firepaw sounded nervous. “Not long, just since leaf-bare began. But only to see my sister. My loyalty still lies with ThunderClan.”
“Loyalty?” Darkstripe’s yowl rang out. “And yet you bring a kittypet here?”
“Isn’t having one kittypet in the Clan enough?” croaked an elderly voice - it sounded like One-eye. “Trust a kittypet to find another kittypet!”
Once again the voices faded, only for new ones to rise out of the tin - Firepaw, again, but older - not as old as the first (were they memories? Prophecies? Both) but mature, adult. A warrior.
“Smudge, is it okay if I stay with you tonight?”
A new voice - another one Bluestar didn’t recognize, but the smell of kittypet wafted through her nose. “Of course. But will it be okay with...with the other cats in your Clan?”
“They’ll be fine, I promise. I just think this will help me figure out, you know, what we were talking about earlier.”
“Oh, I see. But I’m not sure how easy it’ll be getting you inside the nest.”
Bluestar hissed aloud. What would Firepaw - Fireheart - whatever his warrior name would be - what would he want with the inside of a Twoleg nest?
Abruptly, the din vanished, leaving behind a single, echoing thought.
“There are some things that are too big to be contained in the warrior code.”
Bluestar stared in dismay at the image of Firepaw - a full-grown, sleek-furred warrior - curled up and sleeping peacefully in the garden of a Twoleg nest.
~~ Ravenpaw stumbled as his paws slammed into the forest floor. He stared around wildly - he didn’t recognize this place, but there was something familiar about it nonetheless, something that made his fur stand on end.
“Hello?” he called out. “Is - is anyone there?”
“Ravenpaw?”
Ravenpaw spun around, his heart soaring to see the dark, ragged silhouette of his father standing in the trees. “Fuzzypelt!”
Fuzzypelt purred as Ravenpaw launched himself forward, licking his head. “You’re filthy,” Fuzzypelt murmured. “Why we keep the Moonstone so far underground -”
His words were cut off mid-sentence as a crashing wave of darkness knocked Ravenpaw off his feet. He yowled soundlessly, struggling for purchase as Fuzzypelt and the forest were ripped away, lost and drowned in the unrelenting black current. A choir of yowls rose up around him, too dim to make out the words -
“Has it been worth it, Tigerstar?”
Ravenpaw flattened his ears, dropping into a crouch as he was finally deposited onto solid ground - but there was nothing to see, only the ever-present darkness.
“All the hate? All the death?” That was Firepaw’s voice - but he sounded old, tired, angry -
A deep snarl ripped through the air - Tigerclaw’s. “Every moment. The moment Bluestar found you, I became nothing! I have waited all this time to have my revenge! And when you’re dead - when you’re dead, I can rule the Clans or kill them.”
Ravenpaw’s yowl of denial was lost in the wailing chorus as the voices faded away, only to be replaced by a screech. “Spottedleaf! Don’t go!”
Firepaw - but he was crying, sobbing - “Please don’t go! You promised you’d be there to welcome me!”
Ravenpaw shivered as Firepaw’s wails of sorrow faded into the background, only to be replaced by a snarl of outrage. “Then it’s the will of StarClan that I just ignore these cats? Don’t you care that they’re suffering?”
Another voice responded, to faint for Ravenpaw to make it out, but a flash of anger cut through the darkness like a flash of lightning, leaving Ravenpaw reeling and terrified in its wake. “Are you mouse-brained? Are you telling me SkyClan had to leave because there weren’t enough trees?”
Firepaw’s roar echoed as it faded. Ravenpaw crouched in the middle of the maelstrom, blind and shivering with fear. What was this? Why was it happening?
“Get rid of him? You mean kill him?” That was Greypaw - horrified, but as clear as a songbird in his ear.
“You saw the way Frostfur went for Ravenpaw today?” Firepaw’s voice was angry and bitter, leaving a bad taste in Ravenpaw’s mouth as it faded away.
Then, suddenly, the chorus of yowling stopped, leaving a single, echoing voice behind - and the image of Firepaw, chillingly calm and staring directly at Ravenpaw as the pouring rain soaked through his fur.
“I will tell him you are dead.”
~~ Greypaw had asked his mother, Willowpelt, about StarClan many times - what it was like, who you could see there, if StarClan would ever speak to him. Her answers had always been vague, but he hadn’t been expecting impenetrable darkness.
Or a chorus of yowling rising from around him.
“You didn’t trust me! You thought I would betray ThunderClan!”
Greypaw stiffened. That was - his voice -
“I just wanted to save you from having to make a choice!” Firepaw’s voice spat. “Although it’s true that I’m not sure where your loyalties lie right now.”
Hurt and betrayal shot through Greypaw’s heart. How could Firepaw doubt him? Firepaw was his best friend - to hear Firepaw tell it, they’d always been best friends -
Had Firepaw lied to him?
“Silverstream!” It was his voice again, panicky and uneven.
“Good-bye, Greystripe,” another voice whispered, so faint he could barely hear it - there was more, but whoever was speaking was too weak to be heard.
“No, Silverstream - no! Don’t leave me! Silverstream! Silverstream!”
At the last wail, the tumult of yowling cats suddenly fell silent, letting his double’s last wail echo eerily in the darkness, followed by Darkstripe’s snarl as Greypaw stared at the sight - frozen in midair as if suspended from a spider’s web - of him and Firepaw, locked in combat with claws unsheathed.
"Traitors and kittypets! Is there no decent cat left in this Clan?"
~~ Firestar couldn’t hold back a cry of pain as nine lives of memories poured into him all at once, filling him up and overflowing like a tidal wave. Jumbled images of blood and battle uncurled and slotted into place, old sorrows and grudges ripped themselves open again only to scar over once more. Grief mixed with joy, rage mixed with love -
“We don’t want him in the Clan! He’s a traitor!”
“I say these words before the body of Whitestorm, that his spirit may hear and approve my choice. Greystripe will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”
“Thank you, Firestar. I never imagined…”
“Squirrelpaw! Where have you been?”
“Keep still Firestar, I’ll have you out of this in a heartbeat -”
“From this day until you receive your warrior name, you will be Hollypaw.”
“You think you know us, but everything you have been told about us is a lie! We are not the kits of Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight!”
“We will find the water! The Clans must survive!”
“Firestar! Firestar!”
“You lived like a rogue. You can die like a rogue.”
Firestar stared at Sunstar. “What -”
“StarClan has reached a decision,” the ginger leader said. “Our sight has been cleared, our judgement rendered. We will guide the clans as we always have. The rest is up to you.”
The rest is up to you.
He was back.
He was back.
Firestar threw his head back and yowled his triumph for all of StarClan to hear.
~~ Lionheart was waiting for them when they emerged from Mothermouth. The others were quiet - Bluestar was hurrying them along (the attack on camp, Firepaw realized with a jolt) and both Ravenpaw and Greypaw appeared to be lost in thought - but Firepaw’s pelt was prickling with the remnants of the surge of power that had filled him up with memories like a rainstorm filling a hollow tree.
“Is everything -” Lionheart began.
Bluestar cut him off. “We must return to camp immediately.”
Firepaw could see the question in Lionheart’s eyes, but he dipped his head, falling into step with her as they hurried back the way they had come.
The moon had disappeared behind the clouds - but at least the Thunderpath was quiet, allowing them to all cross at once. As they loped down WindClan territory, heading for Barley’s farm and, past that, Fourtrees, Firepaw noticed that Ravenpaw was flagging.
He dropped back to walk next to Ravenpaw. “Are you all right?”
Ravenpaw jumped. “I’m fine,” he meowed hastily, not meeting Firepaw’s gaze. “Just a little tired is all.”
Ahead, Bluestar and Lionheart had leapt through the fence, out of the cornfield, followed by Greypaw. Ravenpaw darted after them, leaving Firepaw to trail behind, squeezing under the fence onto an earth track.
As he caught up to the others, he saw Bluestar and Lionheart speaking to a black-and-white tom -
He blanked. The name -
The stranger was a stout black-and-white tom, shorter than the warriors, but well muscled.
“This is Barley,” Bluestar explained to the apprentices as they caught up. “He lives near this Twoleg nest.”
“Hi!” meowed the cat. “I haven’t seen any of your Clan for some moons. How are you, Bluestar?”
“Barley!” Firepaw blurted out, as the memory resurfaced out of the fog that seemed to have settled over his memories. It had been moons upon moons since he’d last seen the sturdy, good-natured tom.
Barley broke off his conversation to stare. “I - do I know you?”
Mouse-dung. Firepaw shook out his fur. “From the Twolegplace,” he improvised. “I doubt you remember me, but I remember seeing you and -”
He blanked again, frowning as he tried to remember what Barley had told him. Did things used to be this hard to remember? “Your sister, I think,” he finished. “I don’t - I don’t remember her name? Or maybe I never heard it.”
“The Twolegplace,” Barley repeated carefully. “You’re not clan-born?”
Firepaw shook his head. “No. I grew up in BloodClan.”
Barley bristled. “I don’t know -”
“It’s all right, Barley,” Bluestar interrupted calmly. “Firepaw is no longer among their number. He joined ThunderClan on his own initiative.”
Firepaw watched, inwardly cursing himself, as Barley forced his fur to lie flat. “Of course. I’m sorry, Bluestar - I came to warn you that there are two dogs here now. You’ll be safer going back into the cornfield instead of past the yard.”
Bluestar dipped her head. “We are grateful to you for the warning,” she meowed. “Thank you, Barley. Until next time…”
Barley flicked his tail. “Have a safe journey,” he meowed, bounding away up the track.
“Come,” ordered Bluestar, heading off the track. She pushed her way through the long grass between the path and the fence that led back into the cornfield. Lionheart, Greypaw, and Firepaw followed, but Ravenpaw hesitated, watching Barley disappear down the trail.
“Ravenpaw?” Firepaw called.
Ravenpaw startled - “Coming!” - and rushed after them, his ears pinned back against his head as he slunk past Firepaw.
Lionheart purred in amusement, dropping back to walk next to Firepaw. “Bluestar told me what happened. Did StarClan restore your memories, then?”
Firepaw glanced over his shoulder, but Barley was long out of sight. “Yes,” he admitted. “Barley was a friend.”
Lionheart nodded.
The sun rose in the sky as they continued their trek across the cornfields - the hedgerows were still wet with dew, however, sparkling in the morning light and promising another warm day.
Firepaw slowed, frowning as he saw a ditch come into view - a deep, steep-sided gully, filled with nettles. He sniffed the air -
“Rats!” he called ahead. “There’s a swarm of them in the ditch.”
Bluestar halted sharply, turning around to look at Firepaw. “You’re certain?”
Firepaw nodded, reaching for the memory.
An earsplitting squeal made Firepaw whip around. Ravenpaw was struggling and clawing at the earth. Something had hold of his leg and was dragging him down into the ditch.
“Rats!” spat Tigerclaw. “Barley has sent us into a trap!”
“They… attacked us,” he said slowly, watching the events play out before his eyes, seeing the furry swarm encircle their patrol, grimacing as he felt the echoes of the fiery sting of rat’s teeth in his pelt. He recited the beats of the battle as they played out, his voice flat as he focused on conveying every detail.
Bluestar’s eyes were open but glazed, and her gray body lay motionless. She didn’t even appear to be breathing.
“You lost a life,” Firepaw finished. “I don’t know which one.” Fifth, said one voice. Seventh, said another.
Greypaw gasped. Bluestar stared at him, then - eventually - she nodded, turning away to lead them around the ditch.
Firepaw followed, a faint hiss of disappointment reaching his ears.
~~ Sunhigh neared as the cats made their way through WindClan territory. There was very little speaking – Lionheart was the most talkative of the party (although that wasn't saying much, occasionally asking Firepaw questions about what he remembered or what StarClan had told him. Firepaw struggled to answer, feeling awkward and unsure around Lionheart and more intent on getting back to camp as soon as possible.
The camp was in danger, but Firepaw couldn’t quite reach the specifics, not without delving into the foggy bank of memories and bringing himself to a standstill.
Lionheart stopped to scent the air as they neared the WindClan border.
“Don’t worry about ShadowClan warriors,” Bluestar told him, not slowing her pace. “You won’t find any here today.”
Firepaw blinked. You won’t find any here today –
“They’re attacking the camp?” he guessed, looking to Bluestar for confirmation.
“What?” Greypaw wailed. “But there’s kits there – and elders –”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Ravenpaw pointed out quietly. “Just look what happened to WindClan.”
Bluestar nodded curtly. “We must hurry.”
Their pace increased as sunhigh passed, moving more confidently as they passed Fourtrees and joined the familiar trail that led home. The scent of mouse trailed across his nose and his mouth watered – the traveling herbs were wearing off and Firepaw’s stomach was starting to rumble.
Greypaw stopped, frowning. “Do you smell –?”
“ShadowClan,” Lionheart hissed.
Bluestar broke into a run. The rest of them followed her, hearts sinking when they heard a warning screech from the lookout and the shrill squeals of terrified kits.
Lionheart and Firepaw rushed forward side by side, Greypaw and Ravenpaw following behind, their tails bristling.
The stench of ShadowClan filled Firepaw’s nostrils as he burst through the camp entrance on Bluestar’s heels. He was met with a frenzy of fighting – ThunderClan cats battling furiously with ShadowClan warriors, the kits out of sight (safely hidden in the nursery, or so he hoped).
There was no time to take stock of the situation before a tabby warrior lunged at Firepaw, snarling angrily. He dodged out of the way, scoring his claws down her flank as she flew past him. She landed with a yowl, whipping around to face him only to be pounced upon by Lionheart.
Bluestar was locked in combat with another tabby, clawing him so fiercely that Firepaw knew he would scar for moons to come – perhaps permanently.
He sprung towards the nursery, where Blackfoot was fighting one of the elders – Rosetail, his mind supplied helpfully – sinking his teeth into Blackfoot’s tail and yanking him backwards. The ShadowClan deputy rounded on him with a hiss, but no sooner had he turned his back on the wounded Rosetail than Yellowfang had appeared, spitting and yowling, and bowled Blackfoot over entirely.
Seeing that Yellowfang had Blackfoot handled – at least for the moment – Firepaw dragged Rosetail into the nursery until the pale tortoiseshell elder shook him off, regaining her feet. “I’m not that old yet,” she rasped, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Firepaw dipped his head, turning away from her to check on the kits. They were huddled against the back wall, trying to hide in the moss of their mothers’ nest.
A yowl of pain from outside the den signaled Blackfoot’s retreat. A moment later, Yellowfang stuck her head into the nursery, looked around – her face was spattered with blood and one eye looked painfully swollen – then vanished again.
“Go!” Rosetail snapped, shoving Firepaw towards the camp outside.
Obediently, Firepaw ducked out of the nursery, shoulder-checking a scrawny tortoiseshell who was trying to sneak past the embattled queens. She lashed out at him with a hiss – he ducked, but one of her claws still caught the tip of his ear and blood began to flow.
He lashed out in retaliation, feinting towards her head before diving for her paws. His outstretched claws caught the she-cat – crouching to avoid his feint – square in the face and she fled with blood streaming from her eyes, her high-pitched wails echoing behind her.
By now, there were only a few ShadowClan cats left in the camp – the quick return of Bluestar and Lionheart had apparently demoralized the attackers, as had the swift defeat of their deputy. Firepaw spotted Ravenpaw and Greypaw fighting side by side against a black tom who fled with a howl and a heavy limp. The last two invaders were chased off by Whitestorm and Darkstripe – and then it was over.
Firepaw sagged in relief, weaving through the cats in search of familiar faces. A quick glance told him there had been no casualties in the elder’s den, and all the queens appeared to be safe. Greypaw and Ravenpaw appeared unhurt, and there was Lionheart, blood-spattered but upright, guiding a battered Runningwind to the medicine den.
The camp itself, however, was devastated. Blood was splashed all around the clearing, mixed with tufts of fur and kicked-up dust. Their barrier wall had been ripped open by the invading ShadowClan warriors, leaving pieces of it scattered across nearly half the camp.
He looked around, searching for any sign of Sandpaw, or Dustpaw, or Redtail. With each passing moment, he grew more agitated – where were they?
“Firepaw.”
Firepaw turned, sagging in relief as he saw Sandpaw padding towards him. She was unhurt, save for a set of shallow scratches on her tail, but her face was dull with grief.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.
“Spottedleaf’s with Dustpaw,” she said quietly. “He was fighting with Redtail, at the front of the battle – it looks bad.”
CHAPTER NOTES
Disclaimer - credit to Into the Wild chapters 16-17 for some of the words.
Firepaw has his memories back and everything remains a problem. : )
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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Nov 21, 2024 15:09:07 GMT -5
Nov 21, 2024 15:09:07 GMT -5