[TB] TWILIGHT -- Chapter 26 (Patreon)

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“Well?” Brackenfur wondered, stepping forward. He stared between Shadepool and Crowflight, who were still huddled over Emberstep's soaked and motionless body. When neither responded, he asked again, “What happened here?”

Shadepool couldn't speak. A terror beneath her pelt gripped her in its icy talons like a hawk carrying away its prey. She had expected Nightfrost to come and investigate what was going on, but she had never in her wildest dreams thought Brackenfur would be here, too. His presence could only mean one thing:

He knew about her and Crowflight.

“It was an accident.” Crowflight's voice sounded far away, as if he were shouting from the Gathering island and not mumbling in shock, so close to her that their pelts touched. “Emberstep, she...”

Shadepool heard him explain what had happened as if her head had been dunked underwater. Crowflight kept details sparse - that Shadepool had come to warn him of an oncoming danger and that Emberstep had taken the opportunity to attack, revealing herself to be that danger. She had no idea how he managed to sound so normal right now.

“Shadepool,” Brackenfur meowed carefully, “is this true?”

Shadepool trembled, trying to remember how to form words. “She... She slipped and fell into the Divide,” she managed to say, “while chasing me down.” Shadepool swallowed, looking down at Emberstep's soaked, stiff body. “She struck her head on a rock. I-I think she died before she hit the water.”

“StarClan!” muttered Nightfrost. There was a conflict in him, oscillating between sympathy for Crowflight, anger at Emberstep, and concern for Shadepool.

Brackenfur's eyes glittered with sorrow, and he dipped his head. “May her spirit find peace among her ancestors,” he murmured, “if they deem her worthy...”

Shadepool's ears rang hollow. Why wasn't Brackenfur scolding her, spitting fire and brimstone about how horrible it was for she and Crowflight to be together like this? Had Crowflight's explanation smoothed the situation over? Was Shadepool worried over nothing?

Nightfrost pressed his nose into her shoulder. He could feel her terror and knew it wasn't just because of Emberstep's attempt on her life. She could feel his reassurance that he had not revealed anything to Brackenfur - that he hadn't even known the medicine cat had followed him into the forest. It didn't help as much as he hoped it would.

Brackenfur's breath rattled as he spoke, his voice grave: “You know what this means, don't you, Crowflight?”

Crowflight froze, and Shadepool stiffened in response to the tension that suddenly gathered in her mate’s shoulders. What was Brackenfur talking about? She glanced at Nightfrost, who didn't seem to understand, either.

But Crowflight knew. His dark blue eyes went hard as polished stones. “I won't be able to stop Mudstar, now,” he said, his tone grave. “No matter what I say, it looks like ThunderClan cats killed Emberstep.”

Shadepool's pelt crawled. She immediately snapped, her voice hoarse and high-pitched, “But that's not what happened at all!”

“It doesn't matter.” Her sudden burst of fury didn't move Crowflight. He stared back at her, solid as a rock. “WindClan is spoiling for a fight. I could tell them a fish swallowed Emberstep, and they'd still blame ThunderClan for it.”

The grim reality crashed down onto Shadepool's shoulders. Crowflight was right - WindClan had been looking for an excuse to exact their justice this entire time, held back only by Crowflight’s attempts to buy time. This, what looked like another WindClan cat killed by ThunderClan claws, would be precisely the excuse they needed. How or why it happened didn't matter - their minds would fill in the blanks.

“It doesn't help that she washed up on our land,” Brackenfur admitted tersely, “and that she has a wound.”

Nightfrost shivered. “It does look like she got into a fight...” he agreed, his tone quiet. A wave of hopelessness washed over him. “Great StarClan,” he mumbled, “this can’t be for real...”

Shadepool's mouth was dry as bone. Helplessly, she stared at Crowflight. Was this a nightmare? She longed to blink open her eyes and be in Mothwing's den, her own nest, or even just by his side. Anywhere but here! This couldn't be real.

But it was.

Crowflight hung his head. “I did everything I could to stall my Clan,” he murmured softly, utterly defeated. “But there's nothing more I can do.”

Nightfrost leaned toward him. “Did you?” he asked quietly. His eyes showed an earnestness and a desire to know the whole truth. “Did you really try to stall Mudstar?”

Crowflight lifted his muzzle and stared Nightfrost in the eye. He murmured, “I did. I really did.”

“Noble,” Brackenfur commented, his tone soft, “but foolish.”

Crowflight winced at the truth in the old medicine cat's words. “That's why Emberstep was furious with me in the first place,” he said, his voice cracking. “I wanted the truth, that's all! I tried at every turn to keep WindClan warriors from antagonizing ThunderClan, but Mudstar's orders meant more than mine in most cases.” He shook his head again, slowly. “Even if it made me look weak, I never wanted anyone to be hurt.”

He lifted his muzzle, staring into Nightfrost's eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Nightfrost sucked in a breath between his teeth. Shadepool felt a wave of shame wash over her brother, hot and powerful. He had doubted Crowflight, and his actions at their last meeting nearly shattered his faith in this cat, his dear friend. Now, it was clear he had been wrong to feel that way. Shadepool brushed her tail against her brother's side.

Nightfrost stepped away from Shadepool and touched his nose to Crowflight's ear. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I know you did your best.”

Crowflight's legs trembled, and Shadepool thought he might collapse into Nightfrost's embrace. To his credit, he didn't - but Crowflight did rub his muzzle against Nightfrost's with a soft, rattling purr that lasted only a brief moment.

Shadepool felt a warmness from her brother. For a moment, the two of them were back in the Tribe of Rushing Water's mountain home, pelts brushing as Tinystar and Tallstar and all the Clans heralded them by their new warrior names. There was a joy in Nightfrost, raw and pure, that their friendship had been strained but not truly broken. Shadepool couldn't help but smile despite everything else going on around them.

Brackenfur's cough interrupted the moment: “Crowflight. What you did was honorable, though it skirted the boundaries of the warrior code to be sure. Now, however, the time has come. There can be no more delaying the inevitable.”

Crowflight's jaws parted as if to protest - but he nodded instead. “I know,” he rasped. He somberly placed a paw on Emberstep's body. “I must take her body home. I doubt that Mudstar will even wait to bury her before he descends on ThunderClan.”

“Were I him, I certainly wouldn't,” Brackenfur agreed grimly.

“Let me help you get her across, at least,” Nightfrost offered. He looked down at Emberstep’s body. “It’s cold, and she’s soaked through.”

Nightfrost took Emberstep's flank in his jaws. Shadepool thought that perhaps Crowflight might protest, but there was just no easy way to get the body across the tree-bridge - and, not only that, Shadepool caught the wisp of a morbid thought from Nightfrost: If Emberstep was going to play the part of being killed by a ThunderClan cat, she might as well smell like it.

The idea curdled Shadepool's belly, but she supposed there was some dark sense to it.

Crowflight took his Clanmate's scruff between his teeth, and Shadepool watched as, awkwardly, they managed to shimmy her across slowly, dangling her between them as they crossed. She prayed to StarClan that they didn't fall and that Emberstep's spirit had made it to where it truly belonged - the aggressive WindClan she-cat might have tried to kill her, but Shadepool guessed that Emberstep had been doing what she thought best for her Clan at the time.

At least, that was what Shadepool hoped. Perhaps that would be enough to let her walk with her ancestors, as any Clan cat should.

The rough grass crinkled beneath his paws as Brackenfur came to her side. She felt his fur brush against hers. He smelled of his nest, and herbs, but mainly like the juice of a juniper berry.

“I am not blind, you know,” he murmured.

Shadepool stiffened. A cold feeling trickled down her spine. “I... I'm not sure what you mean, Brackenfur.”

Brackenfur's breath was warm in her ear: “I am not some kitten born yesterday, Shadepool,” he repeated more firmly. “I know.”

The terror that had calmed moments ago roared awake again. With ears ringing, Shadepool dared to look at her mentor. Brackenfur's face was so close she could see the gray hairs in his muzzle. More striking, though, was the sharp look in his eyes, which were like chips of ice reflecting the pinkish light of the coming dawn.

“I...” Shadepool could barely breathe. Suddenly, it felt like she was drowning, that Brackenfur had dunked her head into the lake and refused to let go. How had he found out? Did that even matter now?

What is he going to do? she wondered. Her heartbeat quickened. What am I going to do?

“We will discuss this later,” Brackenfur promised her, as if he could read her thoughts, his tone decidedly even. “ThunderClan needs us both to survive what is to come.” He set his jaw. “Hard decisions will need to be made.”

Shadepool was taken aback. He wouldn’t tear off her pelt and leave her out to dry? Take away her medicine cat name? Something in his voice was just as frightening as all that, perhaps even more so: Something he knew was keeping him from punishing her right then and there.

Before she could speak, Nightfrost was back - he leaped off the tree-bridge and landed on all fours. He shook out his pelt and looked over the Divide one more time. Shadepool followed his gaze - Crowflight stood there, Emberstep's scruff in his jaws, her back legs dragging limp in the grass.

His dark blue eyes blinked at her, a wordless farewell. Shadepool's heart clenched - would she ever see him again, she wondered, now that Brackenfur knew? Was this goodbye forever?

She watched his dark shape walk away through the woods and up into the hills. The dawn light lit the shape of his ears and shoulders until he was too far away to see. Shadepool's heart ached terribly. Part of her wanted to break away, leap across the tree-bridge, abandon the Clans, and take her dear Crowflight with her. They could build a life together in the hills beyond WindClan territory or go wherever their hearts took them, and they would be happy.

But that was a dream, and this was reality.

“We have to head back,” Nightfrost meowed, his voice grim. “There's not much time to prepare the Clan.”

“Agreed,” Brackenfur meowed curtly. “Let's go.”

———————————————————

Brackenfur managed to keep up with their mad dash through the forest, though even with his shorter legs, Nightfrost burst through the gorse tunnel and into the clearing before either of the medicine cats. The moon had long since disappeared, and the sun was just peeking up over the trees. The hollow was cast in a warm, quiet darkness immediately disturbed as their scents flooded the camp.

Nightfrost went instantly to the Highledge and Tinystar's den, while Shadepool and Brackenfur headed for the medicine cat's cave, their steps quiet and urgent, trying to disappear before some cat woke up and began asking questions.

Dustpelt, Whitewing, and Larchpaw rested peacefully in the soft shadows, each smelling fresh herbs and ointments from Mothwing’s generous donation. Shadepool breathed in their scents and resolved to find some way to pay her friend back.

Before any of that, we have to survive.

There was no time to reflect on her patients’ conditions any further. Shadepool immediately set to work, pulling out every herb they had from the storage cave and beginning to bundle them up in dock leaves with paws that shook slightly under the pressure.

Brackenfur woke each of their sleeping patients with a firm paw. Dustpelt snapped his teeth at being disturbed, while Whitewing looked terrified by Brackenfur's expression. Nose streaming, Larchpaw woke with a sneeze, his eyes bleary - Brackenfur had to speak loud and clear to ensure the half-deaf apprentice heard him:

“We must evacuate all of you,” he said firmly, “now!”

“W-What's going on?” Whitewing asked, her voice pitched in worry. She sat up slowly, her belly wound still a bright pink weal parting her snowy fur. When the medicine cat didn’t answer, she begged, “Brackenfur?”

Dustpelt slid out of his nest, lip curled. “Why do you smell like WindClan?” he growled. He moved his head stiffly, his throat caked with herbs. “What did those rabbit-tossers do this time?”

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!” Tinystar's voice was sharp and shrill, echoing into the medicine cat's cave. “Immediately!”

That made Dustpelt's ears prick. “What in StarClan's name...?”

“I've never heard him sound so urgent!” Whitewing whispered, her eyes wide to their whites.

“Go,” Brackenfur insisted. His tail swept the stony earth impatiently. “Wait for us beside the warrior's den. Hurry!”

He all but pushed them out of the cave, with Whitewing and Larchpaw both startled by his tone while Dustpelt held a resolute look in his eye. When the three of them were gone, Brackenfur came to Shadepool's side and began to help her. He began to make leaf-wraps so fast and so furiously that he far outstripped the amount Shadepool had managed to make all this time, his paws working expertly without a hint of nervousness.

She might not have been able to sense Brackenfur's emotions the way she could Nightfrost's, but she didn't have to - his fur was fluffed out to its ends, electrified with a sort of focused panic that Shadepool envied. Despite his terror and the fear that edged his usual cloying smell, his breathing was even, and he seemed the picture of the calm and collected medicine cat that could handle any sort of situation.

“Brackenfur...” Shadepool murmured. “I... I'm sorry. About Crowflight.”

“No,” Brackenfur huffed harshly, “you're not.”

Shadepool swallowed.

Brackenfur shoved his completed herb bundles out of his way and started on another set. “I said we would talk about this later, Shadepool, and believe me, we will. Right now, we must ensure that the sick and injured are made safe!”

“But if I'm not a medicine cat anymore-”

Brackenfur hooked one of the herb bundles with a claw and then stuffed it into Shadepool’s mouth before she could finish her sentence. Stunned, Shadepool could only stare at her mentor, the bundle shifting awkwardly against her tongue. If she dropped it, she had a feeling he might claw her - he looked more like Yellowfang now than ever.

“There are far more important things going on,” he hissed, coming close to her face, “and you know that.”

Shadepool's pelt fluffed, and she spat out the herb bundle despite her fear. The fur along her neck rose. “How long have you known?” she demanded. She just couldn't believe that Brackenfur had let this grievous breach of the medicine cat code go on for longer than a heartbeat!

“Before you did, I'm sure,” Brackenfur growled, his striped tail lashing. “Do I approve? No! Not at all. And regardless of what you have done, you are a medicine cat!” His muzzle tightened. “StarClan has watched your every step, and not once have they intervened.”

Shadepool hesitated. He was right - though she had broken the code of the medicine cats, StarClan had not ceased communicating with her. Their messages only seemed to increase in intensity, in fact. Did that mean StarClan approved?

Brackenfur's whiskers twitched. “I need you. ThunderClan needs you. StarClan needs you.” He paused. “The Omen needs you.”

Shadepool swallowed. “The Omen...?”

“Go and get the injured and Sorreltail someplace safe,” Brackenfur told her. “I'll be right behind you.”

Shadepool wanted to talk to him more, but he was right - there was no time. WindClan would be breaking down the gorse barrier any moment now, howling for ThunderClan blood. She needed to be where she could help her Clanmates most, even if this might be the last time she could call herself their medicine cat.

On her way out, she nearly rammed right into Sootfur. The young gray warrior was alarmed and alert from ears to toes, his claws flexing. He seemed charged with nervous energy, a polarity opposite to Brackenfur's.

“Tinystar told me to help you,” he meowed.

“Brackenfur needs someone to carry herbs,” Shadepool told him, “and to help us get our patients to safety.”

Sootfur nodded, brushing past her. Such a task would typically be beneath him as a warrior, but he was not complaining. There simply wasn't room for it. WindClan was coming, and every paw was needed.

Shadepool ducked out of the cave and emerged to a camp in motion.

Every warrior was awake, alert, and doing something: Mousefur and Spiderpaw practiced quick battle moves with Ashfur. Graystripe and Cinderpelt were hastily weaving more sticks into the gorse barrier. Silverstream and Ferncloud were helping Sorreltail and Sun across the camp to join Dustpelt, Whitewing, and Larchpaw near the warrior's den.

Cloudtail and Swiftfoot were refreshing combat maneuvers with one another, Cloudtail barking orders and improvements over the sound of battle preparations. Brightheart and Longtail were practicing, too, and Longtail seemed just as confident as the young she-cat despite his total blindness. Snowstep and Rainwhisker blocked the fresh-kill pile with a tightly-woven bush, determined to keep WindClan out.

Shadepool's limbs felt electrified, a feeling that she knew came from her brother - the feeling of a warrior preparing to do battle, fear and excitement mingling into a type of anticipation that frightened Shadepool with its fizzling intensity. She searched for Nightfrost and found that he was talking with Tinystar and Mistyfoot just below the Highledge, their heads bent tightly together.

She joined them, catching their conversation over the commotion of the camp:

“...we need their help,” Tinystar was saying. “Nightfrost, you have to go.”

Go where? Shadepool wondered. Her pelt prickled with worry.

“We had no clear answer from Russetstar,” Mistyfoot meowed, her tone worried, “and Leopardstar didn't exactly say yes, either. It's risky to send him away alone when we need every paw here to defend us!”

Oh. Shadepool realized what was happening - Tinystar was planning to send Nightfrost to ask for help from RiverClan and ShadowClan. That made her heart leap into her throat. It was a clear admission from her father that ThunderClan might not make it out of this battle alone. She trembled. With so many cats already hurt and unable to fight, they were on a far more even footing with WindClan than it seemed.

“We risk everything by not trying,” Tinystar insisted, flattening his ears. He turned to his son, ice-blue eyes blazing. “Nightfrost, you have to leave now.”

Nightfrost nodded. There was no time for protest, and he knew it. He spared Shadepool a glance before shooting off, streaking through the camp on swift legs, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. He disappeared into the gorse tunnel and was gone, though Shadepool could feel him heading for ShadowClan territory as quickly as his paws would take him.

Mistyfoot stared after Nightfrost, her blue eyes wavering. Shadepool rested her tail along Mistyfoot’s shoulder, hoping to comfort the older warrior, touched that she was so worried for her Nightfrost’s safety.

“If any cat can convince them to help, it's Nightfrost,” she assured quietly.

“I know,” Mistyfoot whispered. Her gaze was unwavering, though, and Shadepool imagined she was worried about losing another cat she cared dearly for.

“Shadepool,” Tinystar meowed quickly, “are you and Brackenfur prepared?”

Shadepool turned to her father. Truthfully, she knew that they would never be fully prepared - but Tinystar was not looking for an answer like that. She dipped her head in confirmation.

“We'll be hiding just outside of camp with herbs to treat others,” Shadepool told him. She gestured with her tail to the fallen rock pile near the warrior's den. “We'll go up into the forest through there and find someplace out of sight.”

Tinystar stared at the path, grimacing. For a moment, Shadepool wondered if he would protest its use - it wasn't exactly the safest route. But the only other way out of camp was the gorse tunnel, and that would risk running right into WindClan's battle party. Tinystar knew well enough that they couldn't risk that.

“We'll be sure to send any injured your way if they can make it,” Tinystar said, nodding. “If not, they may have to shelter in the nursery.” He looked at her, then, his gaze soft and wavering. “Sootfur will stay with you for your protection. I would offer more, but every warrior will be needed here.”

Shadepool nodded in understanding. She touched her nose to her father's ear and knew he was afraid to lose both his kits more than anything. Perhaps that was another reason why he had sent Nightfrost away, not someone else.

I am not so helpless, myself, Shadepool insisted. Her training might've been moons ago, but she still had claws. By StarClan, she would use them if she had to, even if it terrified her.

“Nightfrost told me some of what happened this morning,” Tinystar meowed. He leveled his eyes on Shadepool, his icy gaze fierce. His lips curled over his teeth. “I will make WindClan pay for thinking they can try to kill any one of my Clanmates - let alone my own daughter!”

Shadepool wondered just what Nightfrost had managed to tell Tinystar. It couldn't have been more than the barest of details, perhaps leaving out Crowflight's involvement altogether. Nightfrost was too far away to ask.

Before she could wonder any further, Cinderpelt's yowl raked through the camp like the cry of an eagle:

“WindClan is here!”