TB MOONRISE -- Chapter 3 (Patreon)

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The early buzzing of cicadas woke Mothwing. She blinked sleep from her eyes, the sunlight filtering in through the willows just a bit too harsh for her right now. The air was pleasantly warm in her thick fur. She yawned, stretched, and got to her paws, shaking off the last of her sleepiness.

Mothwing felt a little sad. I had been having the most wonderful dream… Chasing butterflies outside the RiverClan nursery like a kitten again, without a care in the world, only worrying that Mosspelt or Leopardstar would call her in from her game too early. Still, it was comforting that even adult cats still dreamed of kithood.

She picked her way around Mudfur, who was still dozing. Her mentor had been sleeping in a lot lately, and it was beginning to concern Mothwing. She’d only been his apprentice for a few moons – though she had learned a lot, there was still so much more that Mudfur needed to teach her… and beyond that, he was her grandfather; she didn’t want to see age take him yet.

Mothwing gave his forehead a sniff. No fever. Perhaps he had just stayed up late last night, watching the stars. He would be grumpy if she woke him, so Mothwing headed for the edge of the medicine cat den and stuck her head through the reeds to lap at the shallow stream that flowed just beyond. The cool, clear taste chased the dryness of sleep from her mouth.

After, Mothwing busied herself with sorting out the herbs she’d picked yesterday. Today was proving to be a sunny one, perfect for drying the various plants she and Mudfur used to heal RiverClan. I can set these out to dry and grab a meal for the both of us before Mudfur wakes, Mothwing figured. One less thing for him to be worried about.

Her paws worked themselves into an easy rhythm, placing alike leaves with one another and pushing away the ones that were too old to use anymore, wrapping them up with thin bits of reed for easier carrying. Proper herb wrapping was one of the hardest things to learn, Mothwing reflected, but she hadn’t lost any leaves or berries from her bundles in a moon. The sun was still climbing when Mothwing was done wrapping leaf piles and she twitched her whiskers, impressed with her efficiency and the amount of herbs she had gathered.

Not fighting with the other Clans helps, she thought, gathering several leaf bundles in her jaws. She tucked two beneath her chin and awkwardly made her way out of the den, leaving Mudfur’s snoring shape behind.

RiverClan’s camp was open, tucked between two small streams that branched out to the river the Clan was named for. Three huge willows, allegedly older than the Clan itself, sheltered the open clearing from winds and rains or the harshness of the sun, while the whole clearing was rimmed with thick reed beds that had been bent and twisted and packed with mud to form a formidable barrier against claw and rain. The medicine cat’s den was off to the side, tucked into the back of the camp, close to the nursery and the elder’s den. The warriors, apprentices, and the Clan leader slept opposite the camp, their eyes always secure on the reed tunnel that made the camp’s only entry point.

Just outside the leader’s den, beside one of the gnarled willows, Leopardstar and Tawnypelt were sitting on the Clan Root – one of the old willow’s thick roots that had burst through the ground and clawed at the air, covered with generations of RiverClan leader’s claw marks. Mothwing could hear the buzzing of their chatter – patrols, probably, or other Clan business – as she headed for the sunning-stone.

The large, smooth rock just outside of the medicine cat’s den that the elders used for sunning, but its other main use was to dry out herbs. Mothwing unpacked her leaves carefully, laying them out delicately on the stone. As she went she murmured their names and uses, to keep her mind fresh.  The elders would have to sun themselves elsewhere today.

Warriors were passing by, heading to the Clan Root for their assignments. Mothwing nodded a greeting to Falcontail, her littermate – but he ignored her. Mothwing frowned, turning back to her work – Just like him! She thought, pushing down her annoyance. Falcontail had always been a very focused cat; it often caused him to overlook even Mothwing.

Tawnypelt and Leopardstar stopped their chatter to greet the warriors, turning themselves to their daily task. Mothwing’s ears twitched, listening:

“…Heavystep, take Reedpaw out for training,” Tawnypelt mewed. “Make sure to go over safe swimming practices; we have no idea when another storm will come and flood the river like it did last moon, and we need to make sure our apprentices know what to do if they’re caught in a crisis.”

“Of course,” Heavystep grunted.

“Frostsplash, take Ripplecloud and Heronleap to patrol the Twoleg border,” Leopardstar ordered.

Mothwing looked up in time to see Frostsplash twitch his ears in surprise. The white tom had been a loner for some time, only earning his full name and Clan status three moons ago after the Clan learned of his fathering Dawnflower’s kits. This would be his first time leading a RiverClan patrol.

“I’ll do my best,” Frostsplash meowed, certainty in his voice. “Thank you, Leopardstar.”

Leopardstar nodded curtly, moving on. “Blackclaw – take Falcontail and Mackerelpaw along the ThunderClan border. Do some fishing afterward, and keep an eye out for ThunderClan.”

“Of course,” Blackclaw grunted.

Mothwing frowned. The warriors of RiverClan looked so tense and restless; she was tempted to give each of them a few sprigs of thyme. She didn’t blame them – the last full-moon Gathering had ended before it could even begin as every Clan watched bright yellow Twoleg monsters destroy Fourtrees and topple the Great Rock. It had been horrifying, and it was clearly on every cat’s mind. StarClan had been worryingly silent about the whole event, and no cat knew what it meant for the future of the Clans.

“… keep an eye out for WindClan,” Tawnypelt was telling Leafwhisker. Mothwing’s thoughts made her miss the deputy assigning the small tabby warrior and his apprentice the WindClan border patrol. “They’re skinnier than ever this season and that will make them desperate to cross the border.”

“Of course,” Leafwhisker agreed. Other warriors rustled, flexing their claws at the idea of a WindClan incursion. Mothwing frowned – WindClan had asked a favor of RiverClan during the drought two moons ago, but they had tested the bounds of that agreement, even when rains had brought back the moorland streams. Mothwing fidgeted, hoping that WindClan knew better than to instigate a fight, especially if they were so skinny right now.

Two more hunting parties were assigned before the duties were all handed out. “And don’t forget…” Tawnypelt raised her voice. “Keep an eye out for signs of Stormfur and Feathertail, or any of the other Clan’s missing cats.”

Mothwing felt a pang of sorrow. Feathertail… The two littermates had gone missing before the last Gathering, and no cat had seen them since. Their scents had been tracked to Fourtrees before they were lost among the scents of missing cats from the other Clans. Mothwing hoped they were okay. At least they have each other, we think.

I wish she hadn’t left… a minnow of guilt nibbled at Mothwing’s tail, and she swished it to shake off the feeling. It doesn’t matter now, she told herself firmly. We chose our paths. She has to accept that!

Ripplecloud’s tail kinked in annoyance. “Why bother?” he huffed. “They’ve been gone so long there’s no hope of finding them anymore.”

Blackclaw nodded in agreement. “We’re probably more likely to see them in a ThunderClan patrol by now.”

Tawnypelt bristled with indignation, curling her lip at her former mate. Mothwing blinked as others began echoing their sentiments despite their deputy’s clear annoyance. Was no cat really bothered by Stormfur and Feathertail’s absence anymore? Had they been bothered in the first place? Is it because they’re half-Clan?

“Enough,” Leopardstar snapped. At her tone, the clamor died down. “Based on what we know, all the Clans are missing cats right now, and none of them have returned. It does no harm to keep an eye out for them on our daily patrols.”

No cat seemed inclined to disagree with their leader. Leopardstar nodded, satisfied. “Be on your way, then. Good hunting.”

Mothwing watched the warriors drift off to their duties, whiskers twitching. She sent a silent prayer to StarClan that none of them returned with injuries before setting back to work laying out the leaves. Mudfur is definitely awake by now, she thought, recalling her initial plan with a grimace. And probably grumping about being hungry, too…

“Missing life as a warrior?”

Mothwing looked up, her tail fluffing as she realized she hadn’t even heard Leopardstar’s approach. Her leader sat beside her, whiskers twitching with amusement.

“I was wondering if I ought to assign you to a patrol,” the spotted she-cat went on wryly. “You seemed quite intent on the conversation.”

Mothwing twitched her ears. “I’m a medicine cat, Mother!” she explained hastily. “I should know what’s going on in the Clan!”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Leopardstar purred. “Mudfur, on the other paw, might be offended if his apprentice spends more time listening to warriors than sorting herbs.”

Mothwing felt her pelt prickle, and she tried to spy between the reeds to see if Mudfur was awake yet. The old brown tom was normally patient, but Mothwing had definitely seen his snappier side more than once. She knew where Leopardstar got her temper from. She sighed when she realized she couldn’t tell a thing through the well-woven walls and focused herself on placing more herbs on the sunning-rock.

“Do you think the Twoleg situation has to do with WindClan’s prey problems?” she asked, glancing at her mother as she lay a bit of chervil up to dry.

Leopardstar frowned, her eyes hardening. “If WindClan can’t survive a little Twoleg interference, it’s not RiverClan’s problem.”

Mothwing hid a grimace at her mother’s sharp tone. Leopardstar had always been shrewd, more inwardly focused than other Clan leaders. It made her seem mean and cold at times, though Mothwing and every RiverClan cat trusted her with their safety.

“But what if the Twolegs start affecting us, too?” Mothwing wondered, looking worriedly at her mother. “We have no idea what they’re doing, or how long they’ll be here.”

Leopardstar raised her muzzle. “Every Clan has to deal with Twolegs in one way or another,” she stated simply. “We deal with them every greenleaf, with their kits playing in the river or stealing our fish with their weird cobweb-sticks. We adapt. We make do. There’s no excuse to blow it all out of proportion.”

“But they destroyed Fourtrees!” Mothwing breathed, heart beating in her ears. She lowered her voice, not wanting to be heard by her Clanmates. “Mother, you can’t ignore that!”

“She’s right, Leopardstar,” Tawnypelt added. The tortoiseshell she-cat was padding closer, her eyes flickering with alarm. “I’m sorry for butting in; but something feels wrong in the forest lately and I think the Twolegs have a lot to do with it. We can’t have proper Gatherings anymore! Isn’t that enough to worry?”

Leopardstar sighed. “Not even StarClan can stop the Twolegs,” she stated, her voice low so that no other cat would overhear. “What can we do but wait and see what comes?”

Mothwing shivered.

“Right now my concern is RiverClan, as it’s always been,” Leopardstar swept on. “And right now, RiverClan has had little to do with this Twoleg mess. I’ll do everything in my power to keep it that way until something changes. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Tawnypelt murmured. Mothwing had no choice but to nod.

“Good,” Leopardstar sighed. “I won’t have my Clan panicking; that won’t make things any easier. Keep your eyes sharp, both of you.”

“I will, Mother,” Mothwing promised, her voice barely a murmur. Tawnypelt grunted in agreement.

Leopardstar nodded, satisfied. She licked Mothwing between the ears – a gesture that should’ve made Mothwing feel like a kit again, curled up in the nursery… but it didn’t. She was far too old to be wishing for kithood, and even if she dreamed of her nursery days she was far too responsible for her Clan now to linger there. Leopardstar turned and padded across the clearing, heading for the fresh-kill pile.

Mothwing sighed, watching her mother pick up a trout and head for the elder’s den. She wished she had her mother’s single-minded confidence, but that seemed to be something inherited by Falcontail, not Mothwing herself.

“Have you seen anything?” Tawnypelt asked quietly, catching Mothwing’s attention again. “From StarClan, I mean. Have they spoken to you or Mudfur about the Twoleg situation?”

Mothwing swallowed, eyes widening at the conviction and hope in Tawnypelt’s eyes. Perhaps the hardest thing to get used to about being a medicine cat was that every cat looked at her as if she held all the answers, somehow – even Tawnypelt, who had once been her mentor. I’m only an apprentice medicine cat! She thought. I still find it hard to tell some flower petals apart! How am I supposed to know a sign from StarClan if I’m not at the Moonstone?

“I… no,” Mothwing answered, honestly. “No, neither of us has seen anything.”

Tawnypelt sighed. “I’m sure they’ll say something when we need them to,” she meowed, reassuringly. “I wish Leopardstar could go to the Moonstone right now, but after what happened last moon I’m reluctant to let any cat go anywhere near Fourtrees…”

Mothwing swallowed. That means only RiverClan’s medicine cats will be speaking with StarClan, she thought, unless they come to Leopardstar in a dream…

She felt the pressure on her shoulders and hoped that Tawnypelt couldn’t see just how worried she was. Mothwing had no idea if StarClan had meant for Fourtrees to be destroyed, or for the Twolegs to come and do… whatever they were doing. Mothwing certainly hadn’t seen anything that looked like a sign from StarClan outside the Moonstone since her apprenticeship began. The terrifying question crept on up on her like a hunter stalking a water vole…

… Why hadn’t the Clans been warned?