[TB] TWILIGHT -- Chapter 28 (Patreon)

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From atop the Highledge, Shadepool watched her Clan in the aftermath of the battle.

Up so high, she could see the tremendous damage WindClan had done: the gorse barrier was bent and broken in several places, and the entrance tunnel had been entirely blown open. The softening earth had been churned by paws and claws alike, with big, ugly clods strewn about the camp.

Blood was drying into a dark reddish-brown, streaks and splashes patterning the ground. Tufts of torn fur, both WindClan and ThunderClan colors, clustered in the corners and tumbled in a breeze that had turned blustering, bringing heavy gray clouds that trapped the hair within the stone walls of the camp.

Shadepool's Clanmates were slowly returning to their senses. Adrenaline was falling, and their terror and heightened emotions were fading slowly. Fear-scent still clouded the stone hollow, cloying and sour above the coppery tang of blood.

Graystripe and Silverstream had carefully arranged Sootfur's body in the center of the clearing. Sorreltail and Rainwhisker were curled around him, their muzzles buried deep into their littermate's fur. Though a formal vigil had yet to begin, the Clan was gathered around their fallen friend as if observing one anyway - all but Shadepool, Brackenfur, Tinystar, and, of course, Russetstar and Leopardstar.

The five of them were clustered on the lip of the Highledge. Russetstar and Leopardstar's battle parties had been ordered to wait outside the camp, offering no help in any rebuilding efforts but thankfully providing some privacy for the mourning Clan. Though Shadepool was sure ThunderClan was grateful for their timely help - she certainly was - the air was still thick with tension.

Shadepool shivered. Any eyes that weren't fixed on Sootfur were glaring up at the Highledge, waiting to hear what Russetstar and Leopardstar had stuck around to say.

“What is it?” Tinystar's voice drew Shadepool out of her thoughts. She turned her muzzle back to the conversation, ears pricked to listen, though she had an inkling what this might be about.

Russetstar wasted no time. The ginger she-cat raised her chin and mewed, her voice sharp as always, “RiverClan and ShadowClan backed you in this battle today, Tinystar, because we do believe that no one Clan should be driven out by another without proven reason. StarClan knows we oughtn’t repeat that mistake again. However, with ThunderClan as it is now, it becomes harder and harder to justify helping you.”

Tinystar's eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, though Shadepool was sure her father knew the answer already.

Leopardstar's whiskers twitched. “Your power structure is imbalanced,” she rasped. “You have gone for seasons without a deputy.”

“Sandstorm is ThunderClan's deputy,” Tinystar countered quickly, curling his lip.

Shadepool glanced worriedly at Leopardstar. Unaffected by Tinystar's tone, the dappled she-cat swept ahead: “Sandstorm is gone, Tinystar.”

“Just because you were so quick to replace Tawnypelt when she went missing doesn't mean I'm giving up on Sandstorm as easily,” Tinystar growled.

Shadepool saw the fur along Leopardstar's spine lift. “Tawnypelt came back,” Leopardstar hissed.

“Sandstorm will, too.”

Leopardstar growled low in her throat with frustration, but before she could retort, Russetstar intervened, her green eyes sharp as claws: “The warrior code states that a deputy must be replaced before dawn, dead or not - you have always bent the warrior code to suit your needs, Tinystar, and we were willing to accept that out of respect for you; but this is something that we cannot ignore any longer.”

In a more even tone, Russetstar went on, “If Mudstar had taken your last life today, who would lead ThunderClan? What would happen to the cats that Sandstorm risked herself to save in the first place? Mudstar would have won right then and there - and so long as ThunderClan stands without a deputy, that risk will always hang over your head.”

Tinystar's tail lashed furiously. Shadepool's heart caught in her throat, and she glanced at Brackenfur. The golden-brown tom's eyes were pained, but from how he looked at Tinystar, she knew he thought Russetstar was right. Shameful as it felt to go against her father, Shadepool did, too.

“You may have changed the warrior code, Tinystar,” Leopardstar meowed, “but you are no exception to it. If ThunderClan does not have a deputy by the coming Gathering, ShadowClan and RiverClan will not answer your next call for aid.”

And that was it. Russetstar and Leopardstar left, each picking their way down the Highledge's rocky steps one after the other. They walked around the grieving crowd of ThunderClan cats, pausing only to receive a quiet thanks from Ferncloud when she offered it on their way out.

When they were gone, Shadepool looked back to Tinystar. She expected him to be full of fury and anger, but he wasn't. He looked tired, so tired, with his head held low and his eyes shut tight. Grief and sorrow tore at Shadepool, seeing him this way - she would rather he be at his most terrifying than like this.

She took a half-step toward him. “Father...”

Tinystar shook his head, and Shadepool froze in place. The small black tom sucked in a deep, deep breath and then exhaled, loud and blustering, as if to shock his system awake. He got to his paws.

“We have a vigil to perform,” he said simply. “Come.”

Shadepool watched as her father padded down the Highledge. Worry clawed at her nerves, and she looked again to Brackenfur. “What do we do?” she asked, praying to StarClan he had the answer.

He didn't. “We follow,” he rasped.

Shadepool helped him down the stones to the clearing below. Brackenfur's quick scramble up and out of the hollow to help Sorreltail had seen him jam his leg badly, and though he insisted that it would right itself with time, Shadepool had a sinking feeling that her mentor's old injury had just gotten worse.

She guided Brackenfur to Sootfur's body, where he flopped onto his haunches with a pained gasp. Shadepool touched her nose to his flank, feeling the heat building in his haunch. He had definitely damaged the muscle, but if she asked him to step aside now and rest, she knew he'd refuse.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” Brackenfur began, “we gather here to mourn and remember the life of Sootfur.” He paused to collect himself, taking in a quick breath. “He was young, and he was brave, and we must never let him leave our hearts.”

He bent down and touched his nose to Sootfur's stiff shoulder. “StarClan welcomes you, Sootfur,” he breathed. “You will have good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.”

The prayer was taken up and passed through the Clan like a ripple in a still pond. Even as Shadepool repeated it herself, though, her paws trembled. What if Sootfur hadn't made it to StarClan? What if his spirit had been taken by those horrendous shadow-cats, like Onewhisker and Barkface?

Slowly, each cat got up and said their goodbyes. Those closest to Sootfur each sat beside his body, touching him with a paw or their nose - Cloudtail, who had been his mentor; Ashfur and Snowstep, his friends; and finally, Sorreltail and Rainwhisker, his littermates.

Rippling out from each of them were the cats that hadn't been so close but wished to ease the grief of those hurt most - Mistyfoot, Mousefur, Sun, and Nightfrost divided themselves so they could sit close to Rainwhisker and Sorreltail. Graystripe, Silverstream, Swiftfoot, Brightheart, and Whitewing all clustered behind Cloudtail. Ferncloud, Larchpaw, Spiderpaw, Cinderpelt, and Dustpelt lingered beside Ashfur and Snowstep. It was a web of love and grief stretching across the clearing, beautiful, sad, and quiet.

When it was Shadepool's turn, she touched her nose to Sootfur's side. You gave your life to protect so many cats, and me, too, she thought. Her heart ached, clenched with tight claws. I will never forget that.

Tinystar was last. Shadepool's heart almost broke at his expression - he looked down at Sootfur as if he had lost a cat as dear to him as a son. Positioned between Sorreltail and Rainwhisker, Tinystar put his white paw on Sootfur's shoulder.

“Your fathers were the bravest cats I ever knew, and you made them proud today, Sootfur,” Tinystar meowed, his voice choked with grief. “Willowpelt, too. You are in good company in StarClan.”

Tinystar lowered his muzzle, and the clearing fell silent.

Brackenfur nudged Shadepool, and she sighed softly, nodding in understanding. A medicine cat's work was never done, and tonight, it would have to be done quietly.

Shadepool mainly worked on her own. Brackenfur struggled to move beyond the main cluster of cats, so Shadepool took a few of the prepared herb packets and began on those lying on the outskirts. The cats kept quiet but pliant, observing their vigil despite the scratches and bites that no doubt caused them so much pain. Not one of them even hissed as Shadepool applied poultice after poultice - so many she thought her paws would turn permanently green.

As she worked, she couldn't help but think about the heaviness of the past few moons - the deaths, the sorrow, the turmoil - not even thinking of Crowflight, and her love for him, eased the burden. When she blinked, she saw the terrified face of Emberstep or the dull look in Sootfur's eye. She imagined Onewhisker and Barkface's last expressions, wondering what they might've been.

Shadepool wished she had been able to prevent this.

When she was done, she returned to Brackenfur. The winds had died to an ominous stillness, and now the sky was covered in dark, deep gray clouds, blotting out the sun. The air smelled warm and wet. Shadepool hoped the coming rain would wash away the stink of blood in the camp.

Brackenfur was with Tinystar in the shadow of the Highledge. He was trying to coax Tinystar to take at least a poppy seed for the pain, but the small black tom was refusing, a defiant look in his eye.

“I'm tired of dulling my pain, Brackenfur,” Tinystar hissed, pushing away Brackenfur's paw with his own. “That was never the solution, and it cost me greatly today.” He looked Brackenfur up and down and added, his voice softer, “Keep it for yourself, my friend.”

Brackenfur pulled back, his muzzle tightening. He didn't take the poppy seed, instead tucking it back into its leaf-wrap so it wouldn't be lost. To Shadepool, he asked, “How are they?”

Shadepool frowned. “No cat escaped without a scratch,” she said. “Mousefur's back is giving her a lot of pain, and Longtail took several heavy blows.” She felt a lump form in her throat - it seemed like WindClan warriors had ganged up on the blind tom despite Brightheart's attempts to help him. “Everyone else will heal in time, but infection is always a danger, especially in the deeper wounds.”

Brackenfur nodded in understanding. “We'll have to keep an eye on Sorreltail, too,” he remarked. “Her pregnancy was already straining, and the stress of the battle and losing Sootfur will cause more complications.”

Tinystar dug his claws into the earth, curling his lip around his teeth. “I'm such a fool,” he hissed.

Shadepool touched her tail to her father's narrow shoulder. “None of this was your fault, Tinystar,” she soothed.

It's mine, she thought dismally. It's Falcontail's. It's Mudstar's.

The sky above rumbled softly. The smell of rain grew stronger, and Shadepool glanced at Brackenfur. Even her mentor seemed far away, filled with sorrow and fear for the future.

“What now?” Shadepool wondered.

“I choose a deputy,” Tinystar rasped. “Russetstar was right. I put ThunderClan at risk all these moons. But how? Who?”

Shadepool frowned. She looked over her shoulder at her mourning Clanmates. Any one of them would make a good deputy, she was sure - except for, perhaps, younger warriors like Whitewing or Rainwhisker. So many of them had proven themselves over and over, not just to their peers but to Tinystar, too.

“Everything is so dire and uncertain,” Tinystar groaned. “I feel like I'm wandering in a fog with no way out. I’ve felt that way since Sandstorm was taken.” His gaze grew cloud and unfocused. He rasped quietly, “I don’t know where I’m going. She was always beside me, always pushing me...”

Shadepool touched her nose to her father's ear. It was a small comfort, she was sure - this was a tough decision, made more challenging because he was forced to make it before he was truly ready.

He feels he's replacing Mother, Shadepool thought with a heavy heart. That doing this is leaving her behind forever. Tinystar had already left so much behind and lost so many. Sandstorm had been his anchor for so long, his light in the darkness.

“A fog...” Brackenfur murmured. He blinked, his gaze growing contemplative. Shadepool wondered what he was thinking about - he had mentioned fog before, himself. Was there some connection she was missing?

Brackenfur's ears pricked, and his head shot up. He hissed, “Tinystar - a fog!”

Tinystar lifted his muzzle. “What are you on about, Brackenfur?” he rasped, confused.

Brackenfur stared intensely at both Tinystar and Shadepool, his amber eyes burning. The fire in them made Shadepool's stomach churn - she had seen a similar blazing light in Spottedleaf’s absent gaze. Fear shot through Shadepool - had Brackenfur lost his mind to some prophecy, too?

“Before the Twolegs came to destroy the old forest, do you remember the sign that both Shadepool and I saw?” Brackenfur asked.

Shadepool's ears pricked in surprise. That sign - the image of cats lurking in the fog - had been one of many sources of contention between her and her mento. Where Brackenfur had seen one thing, Shadepool had seen another, and they could not agree on the interpretation. It was the catalyst to Shadepool leaving with the chosen cats to pursue her version.

Tinystar grimaced. “It was so long ago, but... Yes,” he admitted. “I do recall it.” He glanced between the two medicine cats and commented, “I remember you two arguing over it.” He chuckled to himself. “So much has happened since.”

“Shadepool,” Brackenfur breathed, “I think we were both right!”

Confused, Shadepool tilted her head.

“When I saw the vision, I was overcome with a sense of anxiety,” Brackenfur went on, “of horror and danger. That something terrible was going to happen.” He flicked his tail. “And I was right - but I had misinterpreted the cause.

“What I saw, those feelings - they were about the Twoleg invasion and, perhaps, the danger awaiting us here by the lake.” Brackenfur's whiskers twitched rapidly as he tried to gather his thoughts up.

His eyes fixed on Shadepool. “What you saw, though, what you felt - I see now what that was. Do you, Shadpeool?”

Shadepool blinked, her head spinning. She thought back to the vision, herself, aware of Tinystar and Brackenfur's pressing gazes. It had been so long ago, now, that finding the memory was like reaching back in the medicine store with her eyes closed - but she remembered, and it hit her like a blow.

“I saw hope,” Shadepool recalled. Her chest swelled. “Hope and salvation, and the cat who would bring it to us - to all of us.”

“Then tell me who it is,” Tinystar meowed softly. He stared at Shadepool, his pale eyes hungry for the answer. “We need hope now, more than anything.”

———————————————————

Rain fell in the clearing, rattling off the stones and streaming down into the broken dens. Thunder shook the world so hard that Shadepool felt it rattle through the ground and up her legs. Yet, Tinystar's call resounded throughout the entire camp, loud and clear:

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”

The clouds were so thick and dark that the world was shrouded in shadow, brightened dimly by lightning flashing in the thunderheads above. Only Shadepool's inner sense of time told her that night had fallen. As she crept out of her nest, fresh from a quick, dreamless nap snatched between patients, she joined her Clanmates in the clearing.

Sootfur's vigil was just about over - only Sorreltail and Rainwhisker remained with his body now. The others had drifted away, having said farewells, looking for something to do with their paws or as much sleep as they could catch in the loud, clanging storm. Now, they gathered around him again, lifting their heads into the rain to listen to Tinystar's words.

“Cats of ThunderClan, our world has changed so much these past moons,” Tinystar began, his voice high and clear. He had taken to his den for some time to think of the right words. “The Twolegs destroyed our home in the forest across the mountains, and we have had to move and resettle. Now, WindClan threatens our very existence.”

He paused, gathering his strength. Then, he meowed, “When Tallstar breathed his last, he begged me to continue the friendship between ThunderClan and WindClan. But Mudstar did not hear these words, and if he had, I’m sure he would have spat on them then, as he has now.”

Tinystar's gaze glowed in the gloom. “They were once our allies,” he said, “our friends. I thought that I could keep that alive through anything.” He closed his eyes. “I was wrong.”

Shadepool saw her father’s jaw tighten: “Giving WindClan the benefit of my compassion cost us a robust and young life this day. If I had not felt so lost and uncertain of what to do, Sootfur would still be with us, and this is a burden I will bear until I die.”

Tinystar lifted his head to the clouds. “Tallstar, my friend, I hope you can forgive me - I hope you can see: WindClan is no longer our ally, and I can no longer wait for that day to return, nor fight for something that has died.”

Sorrow filled Shadepool's heart - but it was a sentiment shared by few now. WindClan had simply done too much damage and hurt too many. The time for forgiveness was gone. They were a rival Clan like any other now.

“I'm sure all of you are wondering what Leopardstar and Russetstar wanted of me after the battle,” Tinystar went on. “It was yet another thing I have failed you in - ThunderClan needs a deputy, and tonight, ThunderClan will have one.”

A shocked murmur rippled through the Clan. Shadepool heard questions, worries, speculation - her Clanmates had expected his announcement about WindClan, but she was surprised to find that they hadn't thought about this possibility. It had probably drifted from their minds moons ago.

“Does this mean we hold vigil for Sandstorm, too?” asked Mousefur. The small she-cat was near the medicine cat's cave, having left despite orders to stay in her nest to rest her body.

The Clan held their breath.

Tinystar stared down at Mousefur, his pale gaze cold and even. He blinked at her and meowed simply, “I will never concede that Sandstorm is dead, Mousefur - not unless I see her spirit among our ancestors with my own eyes. But she is not here - and if she were, she would agree that this was long overdue.”

Mousefur seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding respectfully.

“So, who is it?” asked Swiftfoot.

Tinystar's gaze traveled slowly, sweeping from one side of the clearing to the other. His Clan was soaked to the bone, and not one of them minded it - they leaned forward eagerly, anticipating the answer to that question, the question that had jumped back to the forefront of their minds.

Shadepool looked over their heads at one cat in particular and wondered what they were thinking.

“These are strange times that we live in,” Tinystar admitted. “We are in a new land, with new borders and dynamics - not just between us and the other Clans, but with these territories themselves. ThunderClan needs a deputy who can help us through these changes. One who can guide us through the fog.”

He paused again. Shadepool heard Spiderpaw trill impatiently in the back. She was practically vibrating with anticipation, doing everything in her power not to yowl. Beside her, Larchpaw sneezed.

A peal of thunder rattled the sky. Seconds later, lightning flashed twice more as if further delaying the announcement for its own amusement. Shadepool, though, hoped it wasn't a bad omen, and looked up into the dark clouds for any signs.

Tinystar, water dripping from his ears and whiskers, meowed, “These strange times had justified a great many things we once considered adjacent to the warrior code. We of ThunderClan are no strangers to that.” He chuckled to himself and added, “If Mudstar can do it, though, then so shall I:

“Mistyfoot will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”