TB MOONRISE -- Chapter 24 (Patreon)

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Feathertail blinked in the sunshine, wincing at its strength. The air still smelled of rain from the night before, and it filled the area around Eagle Rock with the sharp smells of wet pine and grass. The water had blown its banks here, too, but not so severely as the pool by the waterfall – it still made a suitable place to bury the dead.

Boulder, Sheer, Claw, and Swift’s bodies had been buried beneath one of the pines, and marked with one of the stones that had fallen with Sharptooth. Crag and Talon’s paws were still caked with wet mud from the work, and they lay together, cleaning each other with rasping tongues.

Now it was Stormfur’s turn.

Feathertail felt numb as she watched Stoneheart and Crowpaw lower Stormfur’s body down into his grave – separate from the others, given a place of honor beneath one of the oldest trees in the mountains. Close to the water, but far enough away to protect it from rot, like a RiverClan warrior deserved. Nightpaw joined them as they scraped the turned earth over him, sealing him away.

He’s really gone, Feathertail thought.

She hadn’t slept the night before – hardly any cat had. They had been too busy assessing the damage, treating wounds and collecting the dead. Feathertail could remember Night’s wails of grief as she saw Boulder’s body lined up with the others. If she closed her eyes, she could see Hawk, Ice, and Swoop’s gazes of confusion, or see Bird cuddled close to Swift, mourning her littermate and babbling that it should’ve been her instead.

“Today, we honor the lost,” rasped Stoneteller as the last of the earth was packed down.

All eyes turned to the old Tribe cat as he limped his way forward. There was an air of reverence to the ceremony – Stonetellers did not leave the cave unless it was for something so important. Snow walked by his side, her bright white pelt still streaked with herb matter and blood. Behind them, Shadepaw and Sun carried between them a thick stick.

Stoneteller stopped before Stormfur’s grave. Snow sat beside him, while Shadepaw and Sun took a position such that Stormfur’s grave was underneath the stick they carried. Feathertail saw the claw marks on the stick, and remembered grating her own claws through the soft wood. It’s appreciation for what he did, she recalled, dimly.

“The Tribe of Endless Hunting receives Boulder, Claw, Sheer, and Swift – brave cave-guards and prey-hunters who gave their lives to save us all,” Stoneteller meowed on, lifting his chin. “And we will forever honor Stormfur – he was not of the Tribe, but he gave his life for us regardless. He was the storm of our salvation. His sacrifice spared us from Sharptooth, and we thank him.”

“We thank him,” chorused the Tribe cats.

We thank him, Feathertail thought.

Snow nodded to Shadepaw and Sun, and the two young cats gently sank the stick into the soft earth of Stormfur’s grave. It stuck out tall and proud, a marker that would show even in the deepest snow. The two stepped away and dipped their heads.

The Tribe cats approached then, offering stones and feathers to cover the turned earth. Feathertail swallowed, trying to fight her trembling limbs. She wanted to spring at them and scream that they had the wrong cat, that Stormfur was still alive, just hiding somewhere – but her body refused to obey.

A soft scent touched her nose, and she felt Brook brush against her. Feathertail swallowed, breathing in her gentle smell. She looked down at the Tribe she-cat and knew, instantly, that she had forgiven Brook for her betrayal. There was no room in her heart to be angry, not when she was so sad. Feathertail pressed her muzzle against Brook’s, feeling like her heart was about to burst.

“We cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for us,” rasped Stoneteller. The old tom was looking at Mistyfoot, his eyes full of sorrow. “The Clans will always be welcome here.”

“Always,” echoed Snow.

“Thank you,” Mistyfoot murmured. Her blue eyes, soft with loss, rested on Stormfur’s grave. She bent her muzzle and picked up a small, round stone from between her paws. She rested it gently on Stormfur’s grave, rubbing her muzzle against it as if to leave her scent for him.

She raised her muzzle to the sky, as if she could see Stormfur there, somehow. “Good bye,” she said. “I’ll bring them home, Stormfur.”

Crowpaw stepped forward, a bundle of wool in his jaws. He rested it on the grave before murmuring, “I hope you’ll be comfortable in the stars.”

Stoneheart limped forward, and he laid down a chip from one of Sharptooth’s claws. “I’ll miss you,” he confessed. “I’ve never had such a good partner in battle.”

Dock was Nightpaw’s gift, and he tucked it beneath Mistyfoot’s stone. “We were in danger all the time,” he meowed, sniffling. His pale blue eyes were wavering with sorrow. “But you never failed to make me laugh.”

Shadepaw tucked the sprig of an old willow into the dirt. “May it remind you of home,” she prayed, pressing a paw against her gift. “And thank you, for all that you taught me. May you have swift running, good hunting, and shelter when you sleep.”

Feathertail blinked as all their eyes turned to her. She swallowed and got to her paws, taking her gift in her jaws. Brook brushed against her as she padded up to Stormfur’s grave, bending her neck to rest the feather lightly against the dirt.

“I’m thankful they buried you by the water, brother. I think you’ll like it here,” Feathertail told him. She took a deep breath, hoping to catch one last bit of Stormfur’s scent – all she found was dirt and dampness. “I’ll miss you.”

Feathertail lifted her head, swallowing again. Now it seemed for sure that Stormfur was well and truly gone, never to return. She looked up at the sky, soft and blue, searching the clouds like Mistyfoot had. She thought one was looking down at her with a sparkle in what looked like an eye. Was that Stormfur?

Were they back in RiverClan territory, she and all of RiverClan would have lifted their muzzles to sing Stormfur’s spirit to StarClan – but it wasn’t something cats of the other Clans were familiar with, and Feathertail couldn’t help but wonder if it would work here, under the Tribe cat’s skies.

I’ll sing for you when we return home, she thought. For now, she hoped that the Tribe’s traditions would allow Stormfur’s spirit to reach the stars. He had died for their sakes – it only seemed right to respect their ways.

Too soon it was clear that it was time for them to go. Talon and Crag stepped forward, offering to show them the way. Feathertail glanced at Brook, wondering if the small she-cat would join them, only to meet her eyes and see pain there.

“I’ll miss hunting beside you,” Brook meowed. “I hope I can see you again one day.”

Feathertail leaned forward and brushed her muzzle against Brook’s breathing in her soft scent. Maybe if she held it in her mind, she’d never forget the days spent patrolling among the stones with the pretty tabby, and how Feathertail had unburdened herself in the cold, clear mountain air.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Feathertail whispered. “More than anything.”

———————————————————

Day passed as they walked, Mistyfoot leading the way down the mountain and into the soft grasses that stretched between them and their way home. They dodged Thunderpaths and Twolegs and dogs with ease, their stride purposeful though their hearts were heavy.

Feathertail’s paws felt strange now on the earth, and, when she turned one over to examine it for a thorn, she found that her pads had hardened over such that the barb hadn’t even pierced them. Even her pelt felt too warm, now, even with leaf-fall having taken a firm hold on the lands below, turning the leaves golden and red. The chill in the air was nothing compared to frozen-water in the mountains.

There was little said, but in reality, there was little that needed to be said. Each cat seemed to be mourning in their own, private way – but their purpose was firmly ahead of them now, and they had nothing to keep them from their goal.

Soon enough, as they trotted together up a steep hill, Feathertail found herself ahead of the others. Her muscles were accustomed to the slope thanks to hunting so often with the Tribe. She reached the top first, and she took a deep breath.

The smell of Thunderpath was overwhelming, and stretched out before her she could see a familiar tangle of the gray stone rivers ahead. There were more fenced-off squares of farmland between them, the tall plants a hundred shades of gold. Corn, Crowpaw had called it, what seemed like a lifetime ago Beyond that…

Feathertail saw the small peaks beyond the Thunderpaths and sighed. Their long journey was finally coming to an end. She had to resist the urge to turn her head and cry out in delight at Stormfur – he would never walk by her side again, not in life.

“Hightstones!” cried Nightpaw.

The small black tom had hauled himself up to the top of the hill, his tail up and eyes bright. He looked back at the others as they, too, reached the top. “It’s Highstones! We’re almost home!”

As the others gasped, purring at the thought of finally being in the forest again, Feathertail found herself recalling this sight from the top of the mountain, with Brook by her side. How it had all seemed so small from up there. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if she could spot the exact cliff she was thinking of. The mountains were pale in the distance, however, and too far away.

Her heart clenched, and she looked ahead. While the others were chattering excitedly, Feathertail found herself struggling to move forward. Beyond Highstones was a Clan full of cats that didn’t love her, cats she had been told by her ancestors to save regardless. Beyond Highstones was a RiverClan without Stormfur.

Behind her, though…

Feathertail looked back again. Stormfur is in the mountains, now, she thought. Was his spirit even among StarClan? In the mountains… She thought again of Brook, recalled her sweet, gentle scent.

In the mountains is my heart.

“Feathertail, are you all right?”

Feathertail blinked, turning her muzzle back around. Shadepaw was waiting for her on the hill, but Mistyfoot was already leading the others down the slope and towards the first Thunderpath. Feathertail swallowed.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”

As she picked her way down the hill, Feathertail turned inward again. Mistyfoot is going to lead the Clans home, and I’m going to help her. But after that…

After that, I’ll go back for all that I left behind, and I’ll find a way to live without you, brother.