[TB] LEOPARDSTAR'S LIE -- Chapter 3 (Patreon)

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Leopardstar lay in the sunshine, her pelt warm and her body relaxed. The sound of buzzing cicadas surrounded her, and the lapping of the river was not too far from her ears. She felt content and she stretched, licking her lips. Her belly was full and her heart was light.

She opened one eye. Her kits were playing in the clearing of the RiverClan camp, their dappled pelts touched by sunlight. They were growing well, all three of them, and it was almost time for them to be made apprentices. Right now, they were practicing their pouncing on a piece of old, pale-colored wood.

It doesn’t get much better than this, Leopardstar thought, sighing. She could see her Clanmates flitting to and fro in their daily duties, some stopping to smile or mew encouragement at her kittens as they played. Leopardstar blinked. There were so many cats here now! Her Clan was growing strong, so strong, and her kits…

“Our kits will be the pride of LionClan.”

Leopardstar froze. She lifted her head, feeling Darkstripe’s pelt against hers before she saw him lying next to her. Something cold crawled down Leopardstar’s spine, and it curdled in her stomach like sour river water.

LionClan?

Darkstripe tilted his head at her, his pale-yellow eyes bright and curious. “Don’t you think so, Leopardstar?”

Leopardstar blinked, turning back to look at her kits. She swallowed around a lump in her throat when she realized that they weren’t batting around an old wooden stick, but the bone of a long-dead cat.

Nausea crept in as the world around her shifted and changed. She dug her claws into the earth as the sun hid behind a cloud, casting the entire land in a coat of dimness. The cats whom she had assumed to be her Clanmates turned to face her, their eyes unfamiliar. There wasn’t a single RiverClan cat among them. The smell of crow-food tinged the air, mingling with the horrible stench of LionClan as a dark, misty forest of trees rose up around the camp, blotting out the sky with their dead, spindly branches.

“Ma?” One of her kits looked up from the bone they had been playing with, their pale-yellow eyes round. The other two followed suit, one with their claws sunk deep into their macabre toy. Their eyes were yellow, too, glowing in the darkness. “What’s wrong?”

Leopardstar tried to find words, but they were stuck in her throat. This is wrong! She thought. So, so wrong!

Suddenly, Darkstripe was standing behind the kittens, his short, thick tail sweeping around them. Next to him, all three kits looked like little copies of the dark-pelted cat. Leopardstar felt herself begin to tremble as Darkstripe locked eyes with her.

“Yes, Leopardstar,” he wondered, his paws now soaked with blood. “Whatever is the matter? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

The bone that the kits had been playing with warped and twisted, multiplying and turning into a pile of bodies, fur and flesh still attached. Leopardstar’s stomach lurched as she recognized each shape – Mudfur, Mosspelt, Blackclaw, Leafwhisker, Dawnflower… they’re all RiverClan cats!

At the very top, layered over one another, lay Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt.

The corpses shifted. Darkstripe padded up to the top of the pile, planting his bloodied paws on Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt’s bodies as if they were debris in his way, his tail-tip flicking to and fro. Their three kits clambered their way up to stand beside him, and all four looked down at her with those pale, round yellow eyes.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

———————————————————-

Leopardstar awoke, trembling, in her den. Her heart was thudding in her ears, louder than ever, and she dug her claws into the scattered moss of her nest to ground herself. The world was spinning around her and she shook until it stopped.

Slowly, Leopardstar felt herself unclench. She assured herself of where she really was – RiverClan, the present, there is no LionClan anymore, Bluestar and Darkstripe are dead, and your kits won’t be born for a quarter-moon…

As her trembling eased, hunger took the place of her fear and anxiety. Leopardstar was always stunned by how powerfully hungry she was now that her kits were growing so rapidly – Mudfur had joked that a queen’s appetite was worse than a fox’s, and Leopardstar had to agree.

She was so heavy now, too – getting up out of her nest took so much effort. Leopardstar sighed, stretching and looking at the state of her den as she rapidly smooth out her fur with her tongue. I’ll have to ask Tawnypelt for some cat to clean up in here, again… Her nest was scattered all over the place. At least it doesn’t smell like Bluestar anymore.

Leopardstar squeezed herself out of her den, emerging to a camp covered in a light layer of snow. Leaf-bare had truly set in, the chill in the air seeping in through Leopardstar’s thick, spotted coat. RiverClan dens were thankfully quite good at keeping out the cold and Leopardstar would’ve succumbed to the urge to turn right around and go back to sleep, were she not so hungry or had she no business to conduct today.

She took a moment to enjoy just how well RiverClan was recovering from the mess that was LionClan – the camp was back in order, and the smell of strange ShadowClan cats was gone. No cat even seemed keen to talk about LionClan anymore, either, which was just fine with Leopardstar. Let the elders tell that story, she thought. Her stomach twisted. All of it.

It helped even more that this leaf-bare had been warmer than most – the river was mostly frozen, but the land-prey wasn’t kept in their dens by layers of thick, white snow. Every Clan cat feared starvation in these cold moons, and getting through them was hard enough without having kittens on top of it. Leopardstar was grateful that StarClan seemed to be giving the forest cats a break, after their battle with BloodClan.

Tawnypelt was beside the Clan Root, sorting out patrols. The fluffiness of her fur was the only indication that the chill in the air bothered her. The border patrols looked sorted, and were heading out – all that remained were the hunting patrols, and it looked like Tawnypelt had already paired up Blackclaw and Heronleap.

“Thrushflight, I want you to go with Dawnflower,” the Clan deputy was meowing. Leopardstar settled herself awkwardly on her haunches to listen. “We need to keep the fresh-kill pile stocked, and--”

“I’m going with Blackclaw,” snorted Thrushflight. The mottled warrior lifted her chin. “I can hunt just as well with him.”

Tawnypelt flicked an ear. Leopardstar didn’t miss the hurt that flashed in her friend’s green eyes. “I… very well. Heronleap, you can go with Dawnflower instead.”

Leopardstar felt a pang of sympathy for Tawnypelt as the hunting patrols shifted around. Dawnflower glanced uncomfortably at Heronleap as the two headed out. Thrushflight stubbornly pressed her pelt against Blackclaw’s, avoiding Tawnypelt’s eye as they pushed through the reed tunnel.

“You don’t have to let her get her way, you know,” Leopardstar pointed out. “She’s a full-grown warrior, there’s no need for her to act so petulant. It’s been a moon, after all.”

Tawnypelt curled her tail around her paws. “I know, I just… I can’t help it,” she admitted. “She thinks Blackclaw and I shouldn’t have split up, and without Wrenwhisker…” Tawnypelt set her jaw, raising her chin. “I know it was a bad time to end it, but I couldn’t let it go on for another moment - not after seeing his true face.”

Leopardstar touched her muzzle to Tawnypelt’s ear. “You did the right thing,” she assured. “Thrushflight will see it, eventually.”

“I hope so,” Tawnypelt agreed. The tortoiseshell she-cat cleared her throat and turned to Leopardstar, her eyes looking brighter. “Good morning, by the way; how’re you feeling? Another bad dream?”

Leopardstar swallowed. “Is it that obvious?”

Tawnypelt reached out with a paw, patting Leopardstar’s haunches. “You missed a spot,” she purred.

Frustrated, Leopardstar twisted around and found that, yes, she had indeed missed a patch of fur in her hasty attempt to cover up her nightmare. She growled under her breath, twisting to try and reach the offending tuft and finding that her bulging belly just wouldn’t let her. It felt like her kits were struggling in protest.

Tawnypelt’s whiskers twitched, and she bent to help, smoothing down Leopardstar’s fur with her own tongue. Leopardstar sighed, her pelt prickling with shame.

“I’m just too big!” she complained.

“Well, you won’t be for long,” Tawnypelt mewed, lifting her muzzle. “Should I ask Mudfur to leave you some thyme for tomorrow? Queen’s dreams can be very frightening.”

Leopardstar shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “They’re just dreams.”

Tawnypelt shrugged. “Alright.”

Leopardstar swallowed. Even as she had tried to be so confident, she wasn’t sure. She stared at Tawnypelt, recalling the image of her broken body atop the pile of RiverClan corpses. Leopardstar’s limbs started trembling again. She told me that queen’s dreams were normal, but I’m a Clan leader… what if they’re different for me? What if my nightmares are some sort of sign from StarClan?

“What’s wrong?” Tawnypelt’s earnest voice broke Leopardstar’s concentration, and she realized that she had been staring at her deputy for likely far too long.

Drawing her tail close, Leopardstar looked away, her pelt prickling uncomfortably. “My dream… was about Darkstripe,” she admitted, lowering her voice so that none of the cats lingering in camp could hear her. She thought of her kits, standing by their father’s side on that disgusting pile of Leopardstar’s mistakes. “I’m worried he might somehow reach them…”

Tawnypelt lowered her muzzle, frowning. “Darkstripe is dead, Leopardstar,” she insisted. “Wherever he is, he won’t be able to reach them. The kits will only know you, and your love, and the Clan’s love… and that’s all they’ll need. So many kits grow up not knowing both their parents, and that’s okay – they’ll have amazing support in RiverClan.”

Leopardstar blinked gratefully at Tawnypelt, knowing that her deputy was talking about her own experiences growing up without a father. She touched her nose to Tawnypelt’s. “Thank you,” she purred.

“No problem,” Tawnypelt agreed. “No cat seems to know who the father is,” she added, her voice hushed, “and no cat cares. You’re our leader, Leopardstar – do you really think this Clan won’t spoil your kits? I know I certainly will.”

Leopardstar purred, feeling warmly that her Clan supported her so. They moved over to the fresh-kill pile, where they both selected their breakfast. Cold did well to preserve the fish and prey caught by the Clan, but Leopardstar found herself wishing more than ever that she were eating something warm and fresh. Perhaps that was the kits’ wishes, too.

Still, the meal satisfied. Tawnypelt moved off to help Mosspelt pack mud into the nursery walls, and Leopardstar found herself padding through camp and heading for the medicine cat’s den. Though Tawnypelt had been reassuring, the worry about whether or not her dream held meaning was still nibbling at Leopardstar’s mind like a minnow on her tail, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to just ignore it.

Leopardstar was grateful that she didn’t have to squeeze into Mudfur’s den – the gap in the reeds was just big enough to accommodate her large belly, the grasses crackling with frost as she passed. Her father was busy in the hollow log where he kept his herbs safe from exposure, only coming out when Leopardstar called his name. She twitched her whiskers at the way the various leaves and petals were caught in her father’s fur.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, shaking some old cobweb off of his whiskers. He gestured to a nest, empty thanks to the past moon of peace in the forest. “Do you feel okay?”

Leopardstar nodded as she settled in, laying on her side so that Mudfur could see her properly. She was growing used to these visits and to the paws that prodded experimentally at her belly. Mudfur was making calm, satisfied noises, and that was reassuring, at least.

“Everything feels fine,” Mudfur reported. He patted her belly with a paw, and meowed, “It feels like you’ll be having two kittens.”

“Two?” Leopardstar lifted her head. She thought of her dream, and the three kittens that had been playing with the cat’s bone. “Are you sure?”

Mudfur’s whiskers twitched, and he drew his paw back. “Of course, but I suppose I can’t always be right,” he meowed. “If you have more than two, though, I’d be surprised.”

Leopardstar frowned. “If you’re sure.” If Mudfur said she was having two kittens, then perhaps her dream wasn’t prophetic after all. She reached over and licked her belly fur self-consciously.

“Something on your mind?” Mudfur wondered.

Leopardstar looked up at her father. “I had a queen’s dream last night,” she admitted. “I was worried it might be prophetic, somehow.”

Mudfur frowned, and turned back to the hollow log. “Tell me about it,” he meowed as he stretched his paws inside.

Leopardstar swallowed and described her dream to him as best as she could while Mudfur shuffled in his herb store. He’d pulled out a pawful of borage as Leopardstar finished her tale, the leaves caught in his claws to keep them from being lost in the chill breeze. Leopardstar leaned back in her nest, wondering what he thought; not as her father, but as her medicine cat and advisor.

His long, thoughtful pause made Leopardstar’s stomach clench. Was there something in her dream that had caught his attention? Was it bad?

“You said that a forest rose up around camp?” Mudfur probed. He pushed the borage leaves forward, an unspoken order to eat it. “Describe it.”

Before she chewed the leaves, Leopardstar did the best she could: “The trees were dead and dark, and their branches blotted out the sky. That was really all.” Why was he focusing on the trees and not, say, the pile of dead RiverClan cats, or her kits’ involvement? Or Darkstripe, even? Leopardstar felt there ought to be more of a sign in those elements, not the background.

Leopardstar swallowed down the leaves to distract herself. They were bitter, but she figured these might be older leaves from their duller flavor. It was hard to get fresh borage in leaf-bare, and Mudfur had sent many a patrol out in search for it before the snows came.

Mudfur, though, shook out his pelt. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything there, honestly,” he decided. “Just a queen’s dream – they can be rather extreme, and they don’t always make sense.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course!” Mudfur huffed. “I’d tell you otherwise, dear heart.”

Leopardstar sighed, relief coursing through her and chasing away the bitterness of the herbs. “Thank you,” she purred. “The last thing I need is something like a prophecy from StarClan, on top of everything else.”

“That’s the last thing anyone needs right now,” Mudfur chuckled. “Now, on to other business… I think Mistlekit is more than ready to become an apprentice.”

Leopardstar lifted her head. “I suppose she is,” she agreed. “Mosspelt complained to me yesterday that she was too large for the nursery. Has it been six moons?”

Mudfur nodded. “Do you have a mentor in mind?” he inquired.

Leopardstar nodded. “I do - Heronleap,” she answered with certainty. So few kits in camp meant that it was an easy decision to make. Will it be as easy for me to choose mentors for my own kits? “We can do it when he comes back from patrol.”

“A good choice,” Mudfur decided. “Shall I let Mosspelt know?”

“No, I can,” Leopardstar decided. She heaved herself to her paws, feeling her weight shift. “A walk around camp would do me good, I think – I’d best enjoy it while I can.”

Mudfur nodded in agreement. “Now, I want you to come here for borage every day, until you’re due. You’re doing fine, Leopardstar, but the daily borage doses do wonders down the line.”

“I will,” Leopardstar promised. She touched her nose to Mudfur’s, breathing in his herb-spattered scent. She wondered, for a moment, if he worried he might lose her to kitting like he’d lost his mate Brightsky. He’ll do his best to make sure that doesn’t happen, I know.

Everything is going to be okay.

———————————————————-

“Push, Leopardstar!”

Leopardstar gasped, another wave of sharp, powerful pain coming over her. She clamped her jaws down on the thick, tooth-marked stick that Tawnypelt had given her, clenching her claws into her mossy nest.

She felt something shift, and then a sharp pop of pain. Mudfur gasped, “That’s one!”

That was just one?! Leopardstar wailed inwardly. She took deep, shallow breaths, only managing a few before another wave of pain crashed over her. Leopardstar groaned, feeling the stick in her jaws tremble. She wanted to complain about the pain and about how hot it was in here, but with that stick in her mouth she couldn’t.

“You’re doing great,” Tawnypelt assured. She lapped between Leopardstar’s ears, her eyes shining.

Leopardstar feared she might break the stick with the next pulse of pain – she didn’t need Mudfur’s encouragement to push. One more heaving feeling, and suddenly it was all done. Leopardstar released the stick and lay back in her nest, panting, her limbs tingling with effort.

“Is that all of them?” Mosspelt wondered.

Leopardstar barely felt Mudfur’s paw against her side. “Yes,” he judged. “Just two.”

“You did it!” purred Tawnypelt. “Look at them!”

Leopardstar felt something warm and wet touch her belly. She lifted her head and all her tiredness disappeared – at her side, nursing, were two small bundles of wet fur. She instinctively nudged them closer with her hind paw, a wave of protectiveness flowing over her.

“They’re lovely,” Mosspelt agreed, cleaning her muzzle with one paw. The tortoiseshell queen had always been more comfortable in the nursery, and had decided to remain there even after Mistlepaw had been apprenticed.

Mudfur gave each a sniff. “They look healthy, too.”

Leopardstar sighed. Tiredness pulled at her muscles but she just couldn’t stop looking at them. My babies! The tom had a darker gray pelt while the she-kit had more golden-colored fur. Already she could see their blotchy, spotty tabby markings.

“I’ll go tell the Clan,” Mosspelt offered. “Do you have names?”

Leopardstar stared more intently at her kits. There was something in the way both their pelts were mottled that reminded her of wings… “Falconkit for the tom,” she decided, “and Mothkit for the she-kit.”

Mosspelt squeezed out of the nursery to deliver the news. Mudfur, meanwhile, bent over the kits and touched each one with his nose. “StarClan, we ask that you welcome these two kits to RiverClan,” he meowed, his voice quiet. “Watch over Mothkit and Falconkit as they grow, and guide their paws onto the paths of their destiny. May the currents of their lives flow smooth and strong.”

“May the currents of their lives flow smooth and strong,” Tawnypelt repeated.

Leopardstar was too tired to repeat the phrase, so she nodded along instead. She leaned over and lapped at some wetness near Mothkit’s ear. Welcome to RiverClan, my beautiful daughter. She moved her muzzle to Falconkit. My strong…

… son.

She froze. Falconkit had shifted, and in the darkness Leopardstar could swear she was looking at a very, very small Darkstripe. A cold feeling prickled in her pelt, and she felt her stomach lurch. As if sensing the shift in her mood, the kits broke off from nursing and opened their tiny, toothless mouths to wail.

“I-It’s okay,” Leopardstar assured, forcing the feeling away. She pulled her kittens in closer, nudging them with nose and tail to get back to feeding. “You’re okay, little ones!”

The kittens settled quickly, both kneading at her belly with their paws. Leopardstar breathed a sigh of relief, glancing at Mudfur and Tawnypelt. Had they known what she was thinking?

The look in their eyes said they did.

“It’ll be alright,” Tawnypelt assured.

“Falconkit… he looks like him…” Leopardstar breathed. Though she knew her kits would be deaf for two days yet, she couldn’t help but keep her voice low. “What if some cat notices…?”

Mudfur frowned. “All they can do is speculate,” he reminded her. “There’s nowhere in the warrior code that states you need to tell the whole forest who fathered these kits… and, my dear daughter, they are wonderful kits. Brightsky would be so proud – I know I am!”

Leopardstar blinked up at her father, seeing the emotion in his eyes. She offered him a smile, letting his assurances wash over her. She was too tired to fight it any longer – she laid her head back on her nest and sighed.

“Sleep well,” Tawnypelt murmured, licking her ear. “We’ll look after the Clan.”

“I know you will,” Leopardstar mumbled, feeling sleep already overtaking her.

“Mosspelt will be back soon,” Mudfur meowed, his voice fading into the darkness. He was turning to Tawnypelt to go on, “We should…” as Leopardstar sank deep into sleep; and for the first time in the past two-and-a-half moons her dreams were undisturbed by nightmares of the father of her kits.