[TB AU] LEOPARDSTAR'S LIE -- Chapter 4 (Patreon)

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Leopardstar’s paws felt heavy as she padded into the clearing, the dew-soaked reed walls dampening her pelt as she passed. She glanced up at the sky from between the three ancient willows that encircled RiverClan’s camp and found that dawn was not far off.

Though she had only missed the last moon’s Gathering due to her pregnancy, Leopardstar felt as if she hadn’t seen the other Clan leaders for seasons. She had been very happy to reassume her place on the Great Rock at Fourtrees, even if it meant leaving her kittens behind for the night. The other Clans needed to know as soon as possible that RiverClan was strong, that she was strong.

They must wonder where I’ve been, Leopardstar thought. Tawnypelt had excused Leopardstar the moon before by saying she’d felt under the weather. There were still some older cats in the Clans that believed a leader shouldn’t be having kits. Tonight, Leopardstar had done her best to ignore the curious looks from the other Clans, to push aside their whisperings. She could think of a pawful of ShadowClan cats that might be able to guess what had kept her away…

Anxiety pricked at her pelt as she glanced over at the nursery. She doubted that Mothkit or Falconkit had been a bother to Mosspelt, but at a quarter-moon they were already a pawful. Leopardstar turned her paws towards the nursery.

“Can you believe Tinystar?” Blackclaw hissed the moment he stepped paw into camp.

Leafwhisker snorted. “I don’t know what he’s thinking – ThunderClan cats have bees for brains!”

Leopardstar halted, and sighed privately. Tinystar’s suggestion about amending the warrior code had fallen on shocked ears at Fourtrees – the ThunderClan leader had suggested that, in light of the circumstance of BloodClan’s motivations, the Clans open themselves up to allowing kittypets and loners into their ranks.

It was just a suggestion, and obviously more details would need to be thought through, but ThunderClan and WindClan had already seemed very into the idea. Leopardstar had fought the urge to accuse Tallstar and Tinystar of collusion, and Russetstar, ShadowClan’s new leader, had been a kittypet herself, once – Leopardstar had no doubt she would eventually come around.

But what do I think?

Leopardstar was uncertain, but as she looked around at her Clanmates, she knew her job was to be certain, eventually. She had one moon to think it through.

“Keep it down,” Leopardstar ordered, meeting the eyes of her chattering Gathering party. The news would be all over camp before sunhigh. “We don’t want to wake anyone unreasonably.”

“But what do you think of it?” asked Heronleap, his head tilted. “What do you plan to say?”

“I think if we let ThunderClan start making up rules whenever they please, we’ll be regretting it,” Blackclaw grunted.

“He wasn’t asking what you thought, Blackclaw,” snorted Tawnypelt.

The tortoiseshell she-cat looked at Leopardstar, her eyes even but her whiskers twitching. Leopardstar swallowed. What I think of this… it will affect cats like her. The Clans were divided on the issue, no doubt – for generations the warrior code had discouraged outsiders. But now…

“I have a moon to think about it,” Leopardstar meowed evenly. “Right now, I want to sleep with my kits. Tawnypelt, we’ll discuss this when I wake.”

“Of course.” Tawnypelt turned to the Gathering party and meowed, “You heard her – get some rest, everyone. And wake the dawn patrol! Why aren’t they out here already…?”

Leopardstar turned away, sighing. Fatigue pulled at her bones and she loped towards the nursery. She had found that, since having her kits, no cat seemed willing to argue when she wanted to spend time with them. It had already gotten her out of plenty of aggravating conversations, and she had to admit that the nursery was a safer haven than even her den beside the Clan Root.

She met Mosspelt at the entrance. The queen swished her tail, her eyes shining with an apology. “I tried to get them to sleep, but, well…”

Mothkit and Falconkit darted out of the nursery from between Mosspelt’s legs. Their pawsteps were far surer than the day before, but they still crashed awkwardly into Leopardstar. Tired though she was, she put on a show, falling down onto her haunches with a groan as their tiny paws clambered at her belly fur.

“Mama!” cried Mothkit. “There you are!”

“Mosspelt wouldn’t let us out!” whined Falconkit. His tail bristled stubbornly. “We had to listen to Graypool talk at us forever!”

“I hope you listened to her,” Leopardstar purred, licking each kit between their ears. Their scent was so comforting, so invigorating. Just the sight of them chased away her weariness.

“She was boring!” Falconkit complained.

Mosspelt sighed patiently. “Graypool was telling you stories, Falconkit – she wanted to help you get to sleep.”

“Then why did she tell us such scary stories?” Mothkit wondered, tiny ears pricked. “Like that one about M-Maple… Maple…”

“Mapleshade,” offered Falconkit.

Mothkit nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, her! Why would Graypool tell us about her if she’s so scary?!”

It was Leopardstar’s turn to sigh. She curled her tail around her kits and meowed, “Our elders keep our history, kittens. We need to listen to what they say – there are lessons in those bedtime stories, even if they scare you.”

Mothkit leaned against Leopardstar, betraying her energy with a large yawn. “I don’t like Mapleshade’s lessons…” she mumbled.

“Don’t fall asleep, Mothkit,” Falconkit purred, whiskers twitching. “Mapleshade might get you!”

Mothkit’s eyes were drooping, regardless. Leopardstar purred at her tiny daughter and gave her a nudge to her own paws. When she wouldn’t move, Leopardstar grasped Mothkit’s scruff in her teeth and headed into the nursery, brushing past Mosspelt on the way.

The nursery was warm and quiet, well away from the bustle of the Clan as it awakened. Leopardstar circled her nest, pushing aside a stray bit of moss and feathers – loosened by the kits, likely. She laid Mothkit down in their nest and smoothed her back fur with a lick, earning her a stretch and sleepy yawn from her daughter.

Falconkit stumbled in, urged on by Mosspelt’s muzzle. “I don’t need to be picked up!” he protested. His eyes were glassy with tiredness, and whatever additional complaint he was about to make was broken up by a massive yawn.

The tiny gray tabby nearly stumbled into the nest, and Leopardstar urged him in with her nose. Falconkit settled in beside Mothkit, curling his tiny striped tail over his muzzle. Leopardstar gave him a lick, too, and sighed.

“Thank you again, Mosspelt,” Leopardstar meowed quietly, turning to the tortoiseshell she-cat as she was settling into her own nest.

Mosspelt yawned. She licked her lips, after, and mewed, “It was nothing.”

There was a curtness to Mosspelt’s voice that made Leopardstar fight a sigh. Some cats still looked at her with suspicion and mistrust, even after nearly a season had passed since LionClan. Whatever the older queen felt about Leopardstar personally, though, she knew Mosspelt would never take it out on the kits. Other than those few who still looked at her with the past in their eyes, the Clan was adamant in keeping the kits out of it.

There was no doubt in Leopardstar’s mind that Mosspelt knew that the father of her kits was Darkstripe. Thank StarClan, though, Mosspelt knew better than to talk about it.

Time can’t heal all wounds, I suppose, Leopardstar decided, curling up around her kittens. Their soft breathing and their warmth seeped into her pelt. She closed her eyes and thought, I suppose I can’t earn every cat’s confidence in a season… I’ll just have to work harder.

Resolved, she felt sleep creeping over her like a wave…

… only for a rustle at the nursery entrance to jolt her awake.

“Leopardstar?” Mudfur’s head was poking into the den, lit from behind by the creeping dawn light. “Can we talk?”

Leopardstar fought to urge to tell her father she wouldn’t come, but only a fool denied a medicine cat’s summons. Leopardstar lifted her head and glanced at Mosspelt.

“I’ll watch them,” the tortoiseshell queen mewed, one eye open.

“I’ll try not to be long,” Leopardstar promised.

Her kits seemed tired enough to sleep through a storm, but Leopardstar carefully picked herself up and out of her nest regardless. Pawsteps quiet, she slipped out of the nursery and into the chilly morning air once more.

“What is it?” she asked Mudfur.

The old brown tom glanced across the camp and nodded to his den. “I have Graypool in a nest,” he meowed quietly, his whiskers brushing against Leopardstar’s cheek. His pale eyes looked serious. “She has whitecough.”

“What?!” Leopardstar hissed. Panic shot through her like hot fire, burning away all her tiredness as she glanced at the nursery. “She was with my kits!”

Mudfur nodded. “I know,” he grunted.

“What do we do?” Leopardstar demanded.

Her heart was thudding in her eyes as she stared at her father. Leopardstar’s stomach coiled like a snake. What if the kits caught it? What if they get greencough, or blackcough, or…?

What if they die?

“Calm down,” Mudfur sighed, touching his nose to Leopardstar’s ear. Leopardstar forced herself to take a deep breath. “The most we can do now is keep Graypool in quarantine and keep an eye out for others with the same symptoms.”

Leopardstar swallowed. Mudfur gave her a patient look. “I know it’s scary,” he meowed, his tone reassuring, “but it’s still the early stages. It’s likely that we caught this just in time, and the warm weather that’s coming will drive it off. Kits are resilient, Leopardstar; I’m sure they’ll be fine, and that this will pass.”

———————————————————-

Leaf-bare still clung stubbornly to the forest days later, though Leopardstar was sure that newleaf ought to be here by now. The river, at least, had unfrozen, though fish were reluctant to surface in the icy waters. The land-prey was just as confused as the cats seemed to be, but that was at least to the cat’s advantage.

What wasn’t was the lack of warmth, and that was prolonging things that should have ended by now. Graypool was still ill in the medicine cat’s den, and her symptoms had turned from whitecough to greencough rapidly. Mudfur had blamed her age, but what he couldn’t blame on age was Mistlepaw catching ill too, and the young apprentice’s rapid decline. Yesterday Shadepelt had reported feeling feverish, and this morning Leafwhisker had joined her.

Leopardstar stared at her Clan from outside the nursery, her heart in her throat. Why did StarClan see fit to punish RiverClan every leaf-bare like this? Were they keeping newleaf from the forest for a reason? Is it because of my kits? Because of Darkstripe?

Mudfur slipped out of the nursery and sat beside Leopardstar, sighing. Her father looked tired, smelling of herb-dust and, beneath that, fear-scent.

Leopardstar dared to look at him. “Well?”

“Falconkit is feverish,” Mudfur reported, “and Mothkit is wheezing. I’ll need to take them both.”

Leopardstar felt cold from ears to toes. “You can’t,” she breathed, her voice hoarse. “They… They still need me. I-I need to nurse them, and…”

Mudfur steadied her with a paw, and Leopardstar hadn’t even realized that she was trembling. She held her father’s gaze as he meowed, “Leopardstar… they have whitecough. I need to take them to the medicine cat’s den, with the others.”

“Will they die?” the question was a whisper that Leopardstar did not want to utter, lest she give power to the words.

“I don’t know,” Mudfur admitted. Her eyes sparkled with sympathy and sorrow. “I need more herbs… I’m out of tansy and catmint…”

“Get more,” Leopardstar ordered, her tone hard.

Mudfur blinked. “I’d need to leave-”

“Then do it!” Leopardstar snapped, her voice rising. More than one cat looked up to hear her shriek: “I don’t care if you have to go to Twolegplace, Mudfur – get those herbs!”

Mudfur blinked, and Leopardstar snapped her jaws shut, hunkering down and shivering. Panic was bubbling at her throat and it tasted like bile on her tongue. Mudfur wrapped his tail around her and licked her between the ears, his rusty purr reminding her of gentler times when RiverClan’s safety wasn’t her concern and her kits weren’t sick.

“Please…” Leopardstar whimpered. “They’re my kittens…”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Mudfur told her gently.

“Take Featherpaw and Stormpaw. More mouths and paws will be better than none, and they’re healthy, still.”

Leopardstar looked up, seeing Tawnypelt standing just a whiskerlength away. The tortoiseshell she-cat’s chin was raised, her tail-tip flicking. She was the picture of a put-together deputy, and it made Leopardstar’s pelt prickle with some measure of shame. That’s what I ought to look like right now, she told herself, and yet I feel like a crying apprentice!

Mudfur nodded and swept away. Leopardstar watched him gather up Stormpaw and Featherpaw from the apprentice’s den and leave the camp, quick as a flash. She prayed to StarClan that he returned, and quickly.

Tawnypelt pressed against her, her warmth seeping into Leopardstar’s bones. She stood up with Tawnypelt’s help, and Leopardstar leaned against her deputy. Nearly every healthy cat in camp was looking at her, their eyes shining with worry and sympathy. Before, Leopardstar would have turned her nose up at their gazes, but she was a mother now, and her pride had buckled at the idea of her kittens dying.

“What do I do?” she whispered to Tawnypelt.

“I’ll take care of the Clan,” Tawnypelt meowed. “You take care of your kits. They’ll need you.”

“What do I do, if they…?”

Tawnypelt shook her head, cutting off Leopardstar’s dark, panicked thought. “Don’t think it, Leopardstar. Just don’t. You can’t. Just be there.”

Leopardstar swallowed, and realized that her friend was right. Tawnypelt had lived through this fear of loss before, and the loss of her son besides. Tawnypelt knew the fear that was bubbling beneath Leopardstar’s skin.

“Go,” Tawnypelt urged. “I’ll help you get the kits to Mudfur’s den.”

“No,” Leopardstar rasped. “I’ll do it. We can’t have you getting sick, too.”

Tawnypelt hesitated, but nodded. She stepped away, and Leopardstar turned about and headed into the nursery.

It was dark and quiet and smelled of sickness. Mosspelt had moved into the medicine cat’s den to help Mudfur, and to look after her Mistlepaw. Leopardstar could see her kittens cuddled together in the dim light, hear their wheezing breaths before she drew close. She didn’t need to breathe in their scents to tell that they were ill.

Oh StarClan, she begged, padding over to her nest. She took Mothkit in her jaws and nudged Falconkit, who was less sick according to Mudfur, to his paws. He didn’t complain, for once. Please, don’t take my kits from me.

Please.

———————————————————-

Graypool didn’t make it until evening. Leopardstar, settled in her nest in the medicine cat’s den, curled around her wheezing, feverish kittens, had listened as the elder’s breathing slowed and stopped. Mosspelt hadn’t been equipped to handle Graypool’s illness, and beyond that there simply weren’t enough fresh herbs to go around.

As Leopardstar watched Graypool fade, she went through the words she would have to say over her body tonight. She rehearsed what she would say about the elder, about the long life she’d lived, to commend her spirit to StarClan. There was a lot – Graypool had been one of RiverClan’s oldest cats. She had seen all of Crookedstar’s leadership and the leadership of the cat that had come before him, Hailstar. Most of the stories she had known were from the grandkits of the cats involved. She was survived by her kits Shadepelt and Blackclaw.

It wasn’t too hard to think about, Graypool dying.

Mistlepaw, however…

The young apprentice died just as Mudfur returned, his jaws full of herbs. Featherpaw and WindClan’s new medicine cat apprentice, Ryepaw, pushed into the nursery behind him. Stormpaw sat at the entrance, guarding it like a warrior. WindClan had given plenty of herbs, Mudfur had reported, the plants on the moor were getting enough sunlight to sprout - but not in time for Mistlepaw.

Mosspelt was wailing when they arrived, her body curled around her daughter’s. Leopardstar had tightened her embrace around her kittens, her stomach turning over as she listened to the queen mourning the loss of her kit.

“I’m sorry,” Mudfur had said. “I’m so sorry.”

Mosspelt didn’t blame him, at least not in any way that Leopardstar could see. She felt dizzy as Stormpaw and Featherpaw helped Mosspelt take Mistlepaw and Graypool’s bodies out of the den. Leopardstar was exhausted but she didn’t dare sleep, lest nightmares take hold or she wake to one of her kits dead at her belly.

“Mama?”

Leopardstar looked down. Falconkit’s voice was hoarse and crackly, but nowhere near as bad as Mothkit, who could barely speak and whose nose was crusted badly with mucus.

“Are we okay?” Falconkit asked.

Leopardstar blinked. “We will be,” she murmured, smelling the fresh tang of herbs. Mudfur and Ryepaw were tearing apart fresh tansy and catmint near the stream that bordered the other side of the den, heads bent and talking about their duties.

“Will Mothkit be okay?” Falconkit wondered. “She’s been sleeping so long… What if she can’t play? What if she doesn’t wake up, like Mistlepaw?”

Leopardstar wasn’t sure why, but in that moment, when she blinked, Falconkit looked older, stronger – his pale-yellow eyes framed by a round, gray tabby face. In that moment, he looked exactly like Darktsripe, and in that moment something white-hot burned in Leopardstar.

Isn’t this what you wanted? His gaze seemed to say.

“Stop complaining!” she hissed. She felt warm and dizzy, her vision clouding at its edges. “Sit down and be quiet!”

Falconkit flinched, and Leopardstar, mouth dry, wanted to take it back. In a blink he was her kit again, small and sick and tired – when she tried to edge closer, he pulled away and Leopardstar felt that like claws in her heart.

“It’s alright, Falconkit,” urged Mudfur. Suddenly the old medicine cat was there, nudging the small tom kit closer to his mother. “Leopardstar isn’t feeling well.”

I’m not?

“S-She’s not?” Falconkit seemed just as confused.

Mudfur nodded. “It’s just a fever, I think,” Mudfur decided, “but fever can make cats scared. It’s okay.”

Falconkit glanced between Mudfur and Leopardstar, and Leopardstar noticed that her son wouldn’t meet her eyes. But he nodded, and he curled up again, pressing against Mothkit and resting his muzzle on the edge of their nest.

Leopardstar swallowed, reeling. I… have it too? She thought. Somewhere in her fevered mind, she supposed it made sense.

“Will she lose a life?” Ryepaw wondered, the small tom’s eyes wide.

Mudfur frowned. “I don’t think so,” he responded. His eyes flashed with weariness. “We’ve enough herbs now; she just needs to rest. Let’s see to the kits.”

Leopardstar laid her head down. Rest, yes, she thought. She closed her eyes. This is a bad dream… I just need to sleep.

When I wake, everything will be okay…