TB MOONRISE -- Chapter 9 (Patreon)

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The sound of the waterfall was deafening as the Clan cats followed Brook and her Tribemates into the dark, mysterious cave. There was a tense quiet between the warriors as the smell of many, many strange cats poured from the cave mouth – Feathertail swallowed nervously at the unfamiliar scent, knowing that once they entered they would be outnumbered.

What’s going to happen to us in there?If the Tribe cats had wanted to attack, they probably would have – that was the only sure thing Feathertail could focus on. Perhaps they really did want to help?

She glanced back at her friends. All of them were battered and bruised and tired, and Stoneheart could barely support his own weight – if it came to a fight, they’d lose for sure. StarClan, watch over us, Feathertail prayed as they passed into the mountain. We’re going to need you more than ever…

It took some time for Feathertail’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her whiskers twitched as cool air brushed past her, whistling deep into the depths of the cave. It was quite large, bigger than any Clan camp that Feathertail had seen before, big enough that the furthest edges were shrouded in shadow. She could see the shapes of many cats moving across the stone floor, passing between rocks that jutted both up from the floor and down from the ceiling, some joining in the center like two paws touching. She’d never seen anything like it, not even in Mothermouth.

“Crag, tell Stoneteller we have guests,” Brook meowed. The waterfall drowned out nearly every word she said, but Crag, the big dark gray tom flanking them, seemed to hear her just fine. He padded off towards the very back of the cave, while Brook and her other Tribemate ushered the Clan cats towards the center, their pawsteps echoing softly against the cool, damp stone.

Their strange scent had already garnered a bit of attention – the Tribe cats were coming out of shallow scoops in the floor or slits in the rock, eyes bright and ears pricked in curiosity at the newcomers. Murmurs flooded the cave, and Feathertail’s ears ached as the sounds mingled with the roar of water into a cacophony of indecipherable noise.

“Stay near,” hissed Mistyfoot in her ear, cutting through the din. Feathertail slowed her pace to stay with the others, taking comfort in their scents and the feel of their fur against hers.

“Do you think they mean to hurt us?” Shadepaw’s mew was filled with worry.

Feathertail looked back at the apprentice, whose eyes were round. “I don’t think so,” she assured.

Stormfur was at Mistyfoot’s side, trying his best to look reassuring and determined. It was a look he pulled off well. “I’m sure we’ll get our answers soon.”

“I hope so,” grunted Crowpaw. He pressed himself against Shadepaw protectively, his tail-tip flicking to and fro. “We can’t stay here too long.”

“Be careful what you say,” Stoneheart groaned, sinking to his haunches. Blood was trickling from the wound on his shoulder, which was looking inflamed even in the darkness. “These cats could probably hear a kit’s whisper in this cave.”

Feathertail shivered and drew even closer to her friends. Though it seemed like Brook wasn’t listening in, her companion’s ear was trained towards the strange cats, and she could see others leaning in eagerly as well. She swallowed. The idea of being eavesdropped on was not comforting, especially when it was so one-sided.

“What now?” asked Stormfur as they stopped. It seemed like they were in the dead center of the cave, the light shining through the waterfall barely reaching them.

Stormfur was looking at Brook, but the she-cat did not answer. Instead, she stepped aside as two cats appeared from the shadows – one was very striking in the dark, with her long white fur and bright green eyes. The other was slim and skinny, with a dark pelt patched with gray and sharp yellow eyes that bored right into the journeying cats as if he could see right through them. Feathertail could see every one of his bones, but she did not find herself thinking him weak.

At their appearance, the Tribe cats hushed, and while they drew closer, they kept a respectful distance, circling the newcomers. Feathertail blinked at their behavior. Those two must be their leader and deputy, she surmised. Glancing at the others, it seemed they’d come to the same conclusion.

“Welcome to the Tribe of Rushing Water,” mewed the white she-cat, her voice pleasant. “I am Snow that Drifts from Clouds, and this is Teller of the Pointed Stones, or Stoneteller - our leader.”

“What, too old to speak for himself?” Crowpaw hissed. Mistyfoot hushed him, her tail lashing crossly.

Brook leaned in then, whispering, “Stoneteller is our leader – he sees signs of rock and leaf and water, and has nine lives as a gift from the Tribe of Endless Hunting. Snow is his to-be, and is learning the ways of a Stoneteller.”

Feathertail blinked curiously. Shadepaw murmured, awed, “Like a leader and medicine cat in one? Wow…”

“What’s a to-be?” wondered Mistyfoot.

Snow’s whiskers twitched, and she mewed, amused, “There will be time later for all of that. For now…” Snow glanced at Stoneteller expectantly.

Stoneteller raised his chin. “The Tribe of Rushing Water welcomes you to our home as our guests. Tribe, my brothers and sisters, please treat these strangers as if they are friends. They were struck by the storm, and require our aid.”

Murmurs of agreement flooded through the Tribe cats. Feathertail felt light as she watched them all – perhaps this wouldn’t be such a bad time, if these strange cats were in agreement – until her eyes locked with a skinny ginger tabby, whose eyes were burning. Feathertail had to suppress a squeak of shock at the intensity of his gaze, and she realized that not every cat here was so pleased with their arrival.

We don’t need any more trouble Feathertail thought, worry in her chest.

“We don’t intend to stay long,” Stormfur added, raising his voice above the din of the waterfall. He stepped forward to address Stoneteller and the other cats. “We are only passing through, on our way home from a long journey. The storm hurt us badly, and we need to recover.”

“You may make your nests with the softpaws,” Stoneteller meowed on, his eyes locked on Stormfur. If he knew about the worry in his Tribe, he did not speak of it. “You shall be comfortable there.”

“What’s a softpaw?” muttered Nightpaw. Beside him, Crowpaw shrugged.

“Sun! Wing!” Snow’s mew was commanding, like a deputy ordering a patrol. Two young cats approached from the crowd, their eyes sparkling with glee at the honor. “Find space in your den for nests, and make them as soft as you can. One of them is very injured.”

Both softpaws looked excited for the task, but from the crowd a ginger tom got to his paws, coming forward to stand before the younger cats. “The Tribe cannot afford to feed these new mouths,” he growled. “Frozen-water is upon us already. The mountains will not bear them.”

He must mean leaf-bare,Feathertail thought, glancing at her friends, who were just as confused by all these new terms. “But it’s barely leaf-fall!” she found herself mewing aloud.

The ginger tom bristled at that, and Feathertail wished she hadn’t said anything. Snow sighed, and meowed peaceably, “In the mountains, there is only freed-water and frozen-water. The season of frozen-water starts far sooner in the mountains than it does in the lands below.”

Feathertail, embarrassed, nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry,” she said, to the ginger tom. Perhaps if she was apologetic, he would calm down? “There’s a lot we don’t know about life up here.”

His lip curled. “Ancestors willing you do not stay long enough to learn,” he growled.

Feathertail’s pelt prickled. I guess there are cats in every group that have burrs in their pelts! She thought.

“It won’t be a problem,” Mistyfoot put in, stepping forward. “Frozen-water or leaf-fall or leaf-bare, we intend to hunt for ourselves. We know what it’s like to face scarce prey in the cold seasons.”

A purr came from the crowd. A fluffy, leggy brown tom’s whiskers were twitching in amusement as he mewed, “You would scare all the prey from here to the sun-drown-place!”

“Watch us!” Crowpaw was on his paws immediately, his fur rising with the challenge.

“Claw, be calm,” Brook meowed. “I am sure there are many things these cats can teach us, just as we can teach them.”

Feathertail blinked gratefully at Brook, happy that some cat seemed positive about the Clan cats staying. Claw and the other dissenters, on the other paw, still looked disgruntled.

Stormfur assured, “Those that can contribute, will contribute – you will not find us warriors lazy.”

“I am a medicine cat,” Shadepaw piped up, getting to her paws. “I can heal and offer aid to any of you who need it.”

Another murmur rippled through the crowd of Tribe cats. Now they were all staring at Shadepaw, eyes glowing intently. Feathertail felt a surge of protectiveness, placing herself solidly beside the young she-cat, wary of any cat that would approach.

“Must be just a to-be,” muttered one cat. “There’s no way she’s a Stoneteller!”

“Hush!” said another.

“We would be grateful for your assistance, young one,” Stoneteller mewed, eyes glittering with curiosity. “I welcome this sharing of customs.”

“After you rest,” Snow added, glancing at Stoneheart. The gray tom’s eyes were glazed with pain, and he was sagging to the stone floor of the cavern. She raised her muzzle and yowled, “Tribe! Back to your duties!”

The crowd broke up, obediently and quickly. Feathertail helped Stoneheart up to his paws, wincing at the sour smell of his wound. Mistyfoot hovered, worry in her dark blue eyes. They were safe, for now; but who knew what this Tribe was really like, or what they would want in return for their help?

A young, pale ginger cat approached, the white patches in her pelt hardly visible in the darkness. “I’m Sun That Scatters on Water,” she mewed. “Sun, to everyone. I’m a to-be!”

Sun, Feathertail thought. Looking into her bright yellow eyes, the name seemed fitting. She was one of the to-bes Snow mentioned. The other young cat, Wing, was more hesitant to approach, staring at her denmate as if Sun were mouse-brained.

“Come on, we’ll get you comfortable,” Sun assured, raising her tail. The journeying cats got to their paws, following the young she-cat across the cave. “Wing knows how to make the best nests!”

“Sun!” hissed Wing, her gray-and-white fur fluffing as she hurried to catch up. “Stuff it!”

Stormfur’s whiskers twitched, and Feathertail blinked, grateful that young cats would always be young cats, no matter where they were.

“So, what’s a to-be?” Nightpaw asked, catching up to Sun.

“A to-be is…” Sun lifted her chin, thinking. “Well, see, we Tribe cats have two main jobs when we grow up – cave-guard and prey-hunter. Every sharpclaw has to train to-be one of those, so…”

“Oh, so you’re like apprentices!” Shadepaw purred. “In a Clan – where we’re from – all apprentices are training to be warriors… unless you’re like me, and you’re training to be a medicine cat.”

Sun nodded, dipping her head respectfully to Shadepaw. “Like that, yes.”

“You can just choose to be a… medicine cat?” Wing wondered, looking doubtful. “Doesn’t that cause problems for your Clan if a cat can simply choose to lead?”

Mistyfoot’s ear twitched. “That’s not how it works for us,” she explained. “A medicine cat is a very special role, yes, but they’re not a leader in the sense that a Clan leader or deputy are. A leader and deputy lead the Clan but a medicine cat leads through faith in StarClan. They don’t usually train to be warriors at all, and our leaders are cats who were once a deputy, or chosen specially by our ancestors.”

Wing still looked confused. Feathertail heard her mutter something about this being ‘too complicated’ under her breath.

“This is the softpaw den!” Sun announced. She gestured with her tail to a shallow scoop in the cave floor, filled with nests lined with feathers. There was a lot of empty space in the scoop, as there weren’t many nests.

“What’s a softpaw?” asked Crowpaw.

“Another word for to-be,” Wing explained, slipping into the den. She began to move feathers and moss around, pushing excess materials into the open spaces in the den. “A kit that is still sharpening their claws on the stones of the mountain.”

Nightpaw tilted his head. “You guys have a lot of terms,” he sighed.

“So do you!” Sun exclaimed, fur fluffed.

“And we’ve some time to learn about one another, while we’re here,” Stormfur agreed, waving his tail amiably. “But let’s get Stoneheart into a nest. He’s really hurt.”

“What happened to him?” Sun wondered. Her eyes went round at the sight of the ShadowClan warrior’s wound.

Nightpaw hopped into the den, helping Wing work feathers into a proper nest for Stoneheart. “He was hurt on our journey – he was healing, but the storm broke open his wound.”

Sun and Wing glanced at one another, something passing between their eyes. Sun looked back at the Clan cats and mewed, “I’m so sorry. The Tribe of Endless Hunting will watch over you here, and Stoneteller and Snow know more about healing than any cat alive – er… no offense…”

“None taken!” Shadepaw breathed, stepping into the den as well. “I’m just an apprentice – it’ll be forever before I know everything about being a medicine cat!”

Feathertail and the others slipped into the den and began helping as well, spreading out the feathers and soft grasses into suitable nests. Feathertail wondered where they got all these materials, considering that the mountains seemed so cold and forboding. Stoneheart sank into his nest immediately, sighing with relief. Shadepaw lay beside him, checking his wound anxiously.

A shuffle of pawsteps made Feathertail’s ears twitch. A black she-cat was at the entrance to the den, barely visible in the dark. She pushed a bundle of feathers forward, bowing her head to Stormfur. “From the nursery,” she meowed. “We kit-mothers have plenty to spare.”

“Thanks,” Stormfur meowed gratefully, taking the bundle. “We appreciate it.”

The she-cat looked pleased, trotting away. Stormfur spread the feather bundle throughout the den, and soon enough each cat had a proper nest built up. Staring at their work, Feathertail wanted nothing more than to fall into one of those nests and sleep for a moon. Though they weren’t planning on staying long, Feathertail had to admit that the den looked cozy. The little cave reminded her of the well-woven reed dens of RiverClan.

“It’s just Wing, me, and Flight this season,” Sun meowed, pointing to each of their nests in turn. “Usually there’s more softpaws, but this year there haven’t been many kits. There’s plenty of room!”

Wing glowered at Sun. Feathertail felt unsettled by that look – was that something Sun shouldn’t have disclosed? Nightpaw glanced at Mistyfoot, who was frowning. Feathertail wasn’t the only one to see Wing’s disapproval of her chatty denmate.

It’s not strange for a group to be protective of their weaknesses, Feathertail reasoned. Living up here must be harder, anyway; I wouldn’t be surprised if they lost kits often just to the cold. She was too tired to wonder about it any further, at any rate.

“Excuse me,” mewed a voice as Feathertail was settling into her nest. It was Brook by the den entrance this time, and Feathertail was surprised that the small brown she-cat was staring directly at her with round, pale eyes. “Would you like to hunt with me?”

Feathertail blinked, suppressing a yawn. “I’m flattered,” she meowed, “but I’m so tired… perhaps this evening?”

Brook looked happy regardless. “Of course – I shall see you then.”

As she got up to leave, Snow approached. Feathertail wondered if the entire Tribe was going to come and ask them something, but she told herself not to be upset by that – they were guests in their home, after all.

The white she-cat slipped into the den, causing Sun and Wing to step aside. Snow sniffed Stoneheart’s wound and asked, looking at Shadepaw, “What is this injury?”

Shadepaw looked up. “It’s a rat bite,” she explained. “It was healing, but the storm reopened it. It’s infected for sure, and Stoneheart’s muscle is affected now, too. I don’t know any of the herbs around here…”

Snow’s voice was soothing. “I will aid you,” she promised, her gaze gentle on Shadepaw. “Come, would you like to see our herb store?”

Shadepaw scrambled to her paws. “Of course!” she burst, her eyes glowing with eagerness. Aware of her friends, suddenly, she glanced at them and added, “That is, if that’s okay with all of you…?”

“Go on,” Stormfur urged, whiskeres twitching with amusement. “We’ll need to know everything we can to help Stoneheart, and knowing the plants around here will help us get through the mountains faster when we’re on our way.”

“I’m going with you,” Crowpaw grunted, rising to his paws.

Snow’s tail forestalled him. “Only those who speak the language of healing may enter a Stoneteller’s den. I am sorry.”

Crowpaw sank back into his nest, grumbling. Shadepaw threw him an apologetic look, flicking her tail against his muzzle. Feathertail rested her chin on the edge of her nest and sighed. Those two are too close for their own good.

Looking over the others, Snow meowed, “Please, all of you, rest easy. No harm will come to you here.”

As Snow and Shadepaw left, Feathertail curled into her own nest. So much had happened so quickly, and her head was filled with the sound of rushing water. The sound of the river back in the forest was slow and easy compared to that crashing roar. How did these cats stand it all the time? She rested her head on her paws and glanced at the others, finding they were all settled into their nests. Sun and Wing finished quickly and quietly, leaving the den for them to rest in.

Feathertail saw how Stormfur and Mistyfoot’s nests had been made almost as one. She already felt tired and hurt, but seeing that made sorrow creep in as well. Normally Stormfur’s nest would’ve been right beside Feathertail’s, especially in a strange place – they hardly ever slept apart.

“You’ll have to learn to live without me sometime, Feather.” The words stung her pelt, especially now that they seemed to be truer than ever. I’m not ready! She wailed inwardly, railing against her own exhaustion. Why am I always meant to be alone?

Sighing, Feathertail closed her eyes, the sound of rushing water in her ears.