TB MOONRISE -- Chapter 15 (Patreon)

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Feathertail kept her body still as the stone around her, nose twitching for the faintest scent of prey. Up here in the mountains, Feathertail had learned that scent was even more useful than sight – the clear air made it so even the craftiest of prey could be tracked.

In her periphery was Brook, who was just as still, just as attentive. The brown she-cat’s ears barely twitched, but Feathertail knew that she wouldn’t miss a single sound, and she was ready to spring at a moment’s notice.

Over the past two days, Feathertail had come to understand that hunting in these stony peaks was very much like fishing – patience was everything. Even her shadow had to be well placed, or prey might see it and run, like a fish in the water.

Still, Feathertail wondered just how long they were staying. Stoneheart’s injury was healing well, and the forest was in danger… But it’s been fun, Feathertail thought, glancing at Brook. Making a friend, learning how to hunt up here…

She pushed aside her worries. There was no time for it now. Regardless of the Tribe’s intentions, they were still sheltering the Clan cats. They needed all the fresh-kill they could catch, especially with frozen-water coming fast.

Movement caught Feathertail’s eye – two small birds had landed in the stony clearing, searching for materials for their nests. Though they were out in the open, Feathertail didn’t dare move until Brook did. One wrong pawstep could cost the hunters both morsels. They looked plump enough for this season, and Feathertail’s stomach rumbled.

The two birds began to fight over a stray bit of dry grass, wings fluttering. Brook chose to strike then, moving quick as an adder and pouncing almost two whole fox-lengths onto her prey. Her catch died instantly, leaving the other bird to flap frantically away.

Me, now! Feathertail bunched her muscles and leaped, her claws catching in the bird’s breast. She brought it down easily, killing it with a sharp bite. She lifted her catch proudly, purring at Brook, who looked just as pleased.

“Good hunt, you two,” meowed Boulder. The massive gray cave-guard padded down from the stony ridge that encircled the clearing. Feathertail gave him a grateful nod – without his sharp eyes, a hawk might have stolen those birds… or came for the two hunters.

Boulder looked over the birds, then up at Feathertail. “You’re hunting like a Tribe cat,” he purred, tail twitching. “You’ve learned our ways well.”

Feathertail’s pelt warmed under his praise, though she couldn’t help but feel a little awkward about it. Crowpaw had reported similar praise during a hunting party the day before, and Mistyfoot, too, had heard such things after alerting one of her patrols to a hawk. I’m RiverClan,she insisted to herself. Not Tribe…

“She’s learned a lot,” Brook, unaware of Feathertail’s thoughts, chimed in, her eyes shining. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a better to-be.”

Feathertail swallowed her discomfort. There was something so nice about seeing Brook looking happy – not many of the Tribe cats did, Feathertail had noticed.

“Thank you,” she managed. If she didn’t say something, Boulder and Brook might catch that she was uncomfortable. Without truly knowing the Tribe’s intentions, upsetting them didn’t seem wise.

Boulder looked up at the sky. “It’s clear,” he decided, looking back down. “I think we can keep going.”

Brook nodded in agreement. “I think so, too,” she mewed. “There’s definitely more prey in the area.”

“I’ll take these, then,” Boulder meowed. With his massive paws he pulled the two birds towards him. “Go on.”

Brook raised her tail eagerly, leading Feathertail away from the clearing. A small, clear stream ran through this area, and the two she-cats followed it until it began to tumble down a steep slope. They took a break there, at the edge of the trail, and lapped at the cold water. Feathertail thought she’d never tasted water so fresh and cold, not even in the forest.

“Look,” Brook offered, nodding out into the distance.

Feathertail obeyed, lifting her head. Her eyes widened in shock – here the path began to slope downwards, and though there were still a lot of the mountains left below them, she could see greenness on the horizon, and farther still…

Is that the forest? She narrowed her eyes at a dark green smudge, just beyond a tangle of gray Thunderpaths. It looks like it.

Her heart ached. There it was – home – and still it seemed so far away. Feathertail swallowed, a lump of emotion in her throat. What was going to be there when she returned? She was surprised – part of her dreaded returning home. Being half-Clan didn’t make her popular in RiverClan to begin with and returning with the news that her Clan would have to leave…

I shouldn’t feel this way,Feathertail told herself. StarClan chose me!

Why, though…? Why had they chosen her – the cat who had never felt like she had belonged in RiverClan. Why hadn’t they chosen anyone else? Why not Stormfur? Her littermate had never had any issue with fitting in.

“What’s wrong?” Brook meowed, concern in her voice.

Feathertail lifted her head, guilt piercing her. “I guess I never understood it, is all,” she murmured. “Why did StarClan choose me?”

Brook tilted her head. “I do not know,” she meowed, her eyes flickering with concern. “But your ancestors must have a reason.”

Feathertail’s tail trembled, and she wrapped it around her for comfort. “I was the wrong cat,” she admitted, choking on her emotions. “When I got the message, and heard we had to leave… I was so happy to go… to leave my Clan…”

“Why?” Brook wondered.

“I…” Feathertail swallowed, staring Brook in the eye. She recalled their conversation at Eagle Rock, heart pounding in her ears. “I was in love, remember? She… she couldn’t love me, though. Medicine cats aren’t allowed to have mates, its part of their code, and she wanted to be a medicine cat so badly…”

Feathertail stared out at the forest – she was sure that’s what lay in the distance, she could feel it. She hunched her shoulders, feeling suddenly like a strong wind might blow her off the mountains. What was Mothwing doing now? Was Feathertail missed at all?

“When the dreams came I just wanted to leave,” Feathertail whispered. “Every day that I woke up and saw her, I was in so much pain…”

“You wanted to escape.” Brook’s mew was full of understanding. The prey-hunter paused, then asked, “Were you ever happy in your Clan, Feathertail?”

Feathertail looked up, her eyes meeting Brook’s. The Tribe she-cat’s gaze was full of sympathy and it felt so nice to see. Brook’s paw hesitantly touched Feathertail’s – a gesture of compassion, of care. Feathertail was grateful for it, and took what strength she could from Brook.

“I thought I could be, if I worked hard enough,” Feathertail admitted. She thought of her dream, days ago; her conversation with Tawnypelt. “But it never happened. I could have gone to ThunderClan to be with our parents, but… Stormfur loves RiverClan. I could never leave him there alone.” Another claw gripped her chest. “Oh, Stormfur… I should never have dragged him with me…”

Feathertail felt her pain bubbling up and out, and she couldn’t stop it: “He worked so hard for RiverClan. He wanted to be deputy, one day. And he might have done it, too, if I hadn’t begged him to come with me on this journey. RiverClan always doubted our loyalty before but now… after being gone for so long… and if he and Mistyfoot want to be together he’ll never reach his dream, and I’ll be all alone in a Clan that hates me!

“I’ve done nothing but run away, Brook – from Mothwing, from RiverClan, from myself… and I dragged him with me without even caring if it hurt him. What kind of cat does that make me?!” I’m such a mess…

Desperately, Feathertail looked into Brook’s eyes. What compassion could be there now, after learning what a selfish and terrible cat she was? Brook’s gaze was hard to read, but it looked as if she were thinking, trying to decide what to say.

Finally, after a moment, it seemed the prey-hunter had something. “Stormfur came of his own will,” she meowed carefully. “Because he loves you, not because you forced him; and perhaps… perhaps he has a purpose on this journey, too. One your ancestors have not shared with you.”

“I hope so,” Feathertail whispered back. Her limbs felt weak, the weight of her grief finally loosened, somewhat. “I’m sorry, Brook. You shouldn’t have to listen to this…”

Brook’s eyes turned warm. “I could never tire of hearing you speak, Feathertail,” she admitted.

Feathertail’s mouth went dry, her fur turning hot. There was so much affection in Brook’s tone… She’s been asking me to hunt with her all the time... Feathertail’s thoughts began to spin rapidly. She thought of Brook fishing beside the pool at Eagle Rock, how the sun touched her fur… Just me, not the others… Oh, StarClan…

She was saved from having to respond by Boulder, whose voice was sharp and urgent enough to slice through the two she-cat’s conversation and shred the tentative atmosphere surrounding them: “We have to leave – now!”

———————————————————

Feathertail’s sides were heaving as she passed into the darkness beyond the waterfall, following Boulder and Brook. The rushed backtracking through the winding mountain trails had made Feathertail’s paws sting, and the cold, smooth stone of the cave was a relief – until her nose caught the smell of blood in the air.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She spotted Red, who was talking urgently with Snow near the back of the cavern. His pelt was speckled with blood, and thankfully he looked uninjured. His daughter Sun was pressed against him, trembling, her fear-scent strong. Beside them was Cloud, her black pelt barely visible in the dark.

“What’s going on?” Feathertail wondered, trotting up to the Clan cats. They were gathered up near the softpaw’s den, ears straining to hear Snow and Red over the roar of the waterfall. Brook immediately went to Sun, pulling her away from her father and comforting her with a gentle mew. Boulder pulled Cloud away, both cave-guards talking urgently.

“Red and Spray were out hunting,” explained Stormfur, “but only Red returned – no cat can find Spray.”

Feathertail looked out at the Tribe cats. Fear-scent filled the cave, and everywhere she looked she saw eyes wide to their whites and heard claws scraping against stone. Night was pushing her kits into the nursery, instructing them to stay at the very back and not to come out. Boulder soon joined his mate, the two of them standing guard outside the entrance.

The mood in the cave was not improving any time soon. Though there was surprisingly no speculation about what had happened to Spray, the Tribe cats were slowly and surely becoming more and more defensive, hunkering down and unsheathing their claws, eyes darting to the cave entrance as if they were expecting something to come through the waterfall.

Movement at the back of the cave made the Tribe cats freeze. All eyes locked to Stoneteller as he emerged from his den, the waving water-light rippling along his skinny body. All of the Tribe cats slowly detached themselves from the walls of the cavern to meet their leader in the middle of the cave, silent and tense. Feathertail and the others joined them, Brook sitting beside her.

Stoneteller raised his muzzle above the others, and announced in his rasping voice, “Spray has joined the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”

Shocked mews rippled through the crowd, and more than a few cats let out a yowl of grief. Feathertail stiffened, eyes widening. She’s… dead?

“No!” Brook mewled, her voice choked with grief. The small brown she-cat was trembling from ears to paws, and she leaned into Feathertail for support. “I trained with Spray as a to-be,” she murmured. “Why? Why did this happen to her…?”

Feathertail let Brook lean on her, feeling sorrow welling up in her heart. She glanced at her friends, all of them bristling with concern, even Crowpaw. I wasn’t the only cat who made friends here. Mistyfoot looked especially sorrowful, and Feathertail recalled her and Spray on patrol together more than once the past few days.

Red spun on Stoneteller, bristling. “You need to do something!” he hissed. “I can’t stand this – just waiting to be picked off like we’re the fresh-kill! It has taken my Pale, and now Spray… who is next? Sun?” Behind him, Sun let out a fearful whimper.

“What do you mean?” Mistyfoot wondered, taking a step forward, her blue eyes sharp. “What ‘it’?”

She was ignored, even as Red whirled on the Clan cats. His tail lashed at Stormfur, and he spat, eyes burning, “The storm has come – it is time to take a stand!”

All the cats in the cave fell silent, all eyes turning to look at Stormfur. Feathertail stared helplessly between the Tribe cats and Stormfur – what did Red mean? What did his words have to do with Stormfur?

“Brook?” she asked, looking over at the small she-cat.

Brook said nothing, turning her muzzle away. Feathertail didn’t miss the guilt flashing in her gaze, though. What in StarClan’s name is going on here?!

“It is time,” Stoneteller decided, his eyes burning into Stormfur.

To his credit, Stormfur was still standing tall, though nervousness flashed in his gaze. Mistyfoot edged closer to him, eyes darting between the Tribe cats. Feathertail saw Crowpaw’s claws unsheathe. Stoneheart was lashing his tail, his pale blue eyes frosty cold. Nightpaw and Shadepaw pressed themselves together, their hackles raised.

Feathertail’s heart beat in her ears – whatever the Tribe cats were hiding, they clearly couldn’t keep it to themselves any longer. Whatever was going on here was coming to a head.

Stoneteller raised his tail, standing. “We must ask the Tribe of Endless Hunting what we must do next.”

Suddenly the Clan cats were surrounded by the Tribe, being pushed to their paws and ushered roughly towards Stoneteller’s den near the back of the cave. There was a sharp, solemn determination in each of their eyes as they herded the Clan cats on. Feathertail got to her paws immediately to avoid being pushed. Stoneheart grunted as a Tribe cat pushed him onto his leg a little hard, and Crowpaw’s retaliating hiss was met with another push.

“What’s going on?” Feathertail demanded, staring at Brook.

Brook stayed silent, her gaze unreadable.

“We’re about to find out I think,” Nightpaw grumbled. “Hey!” he snapped as a Tribe cat trod on his tail.

“And what it has to do with you,” Shadepaw murmured, looking at Storumfur. She kept her tail close to her body.

The Tribe cats were being rough with the other Clan cats, but Feathertail couldn’t help but notice how they avoided doing so with Stormfur. Feathertail winced as Crag’s shoulder slammed her against Stoneheart, and she fought the urge to hiss at him, her belly churning with uncertainty.

“Do we even want to know?” grunted Stoneheart.

Feathertail swallowed as the darkness of Stoneteller’s den absorbed them, Stoneheart’s words echoing in her head…