[TB] DAWN -- Chapter 1 (Patreon)

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It was Crowpaw that first scented the moorland. The gray-black tom said nothing, but his body language told it all – his tail quivered, his stride lengthened, and his eyes brightened. Stoneheart watched the WindClan apprentice pick his way up the stony slope above Highstones and stop, ears pricked.

“We made it,” he called back to the others. “We made it!”

Stoneheart sighed gratefully, new energy surging through his limbs. Though his time in the mountains had hardened his paw pads, he didn’t like the rough feeling of rock beneath his paws. He picked up the pace, trotting up the hill to stand with Crowpaw, taking a deep breath of the smells of home.

I’m almost home, he thought. Stoneheart scented pine in the air and his heart ached. Rowanclaw... I’ll be there soon!

He would never forget having to leave his dear mate for this StarClan-sent mission, nor would he forget their purpose – to lead the forest Clans to safety before the Twolegs destroy them. A cat from each Clan had been chosen for the hard task, and finally their difficult journey was complete, even if their job was only half done.

“It looks so different already,” murmured Nightpaw, coming to stand beside Crowpaw.

Stoneheart swallowed as an uncomfortable silence crept through the group as they took in the world before them. A pit formed in Stoneheart’s stomach – he knew that the ThunderClan apprentice was right. Things were not the same as when they set out.

The moorland that Crowpaw had been so excited to see was hardly recognizable – from this point, with Highstones below, it was clear that the Twolegs had done the most damage to WindClan’s open, airy territory. The hills closest to the Thunderpath had been churned down and flattened into dark, muddy streaks; even from here Stoneheart could make out Twolegs roaming those brown tracks, gesturing at one another as they patrolled.

Crowpaw stiffened, his eyes losing their luster. His delight must have blinded him, Stoneheart figured. On his other side, Shadepaw, Nightpaw’s sister and ThunderClan’s medicine cat apprentice, padded up.

Shadepaw’s eyes glittered with sympathy, and she prayed, “Great StarClan, please; keep WindClan safe through these times...”

Heart thudding in his ears, Stoneheart swung his head around, looking down the Thunderpath towards the pine woods that clustered near the Twolegplace. From here, he couldn’t see what damage the Twolegs had done to his territory. He dug his claws into the stone. Is ShadowClan okay? What if there was nothing left to come home to?

“They’ve already done so much damage,” Mistyfoot remarked. She brushed her pelt against Stoneheart’s, trying to soothe him – the gesture from his sister was kind, but it did nothing for Stoneheart’s anxiety.

“We wasted too much time in those mountains,” complained Crowpaw, bitterness in his mew. “We lost too much!”

Stoneheart opened his mouth, but shut it. He looked over Crowpaw’s head to spot Feathertail a few paces away from the main group. She definitely heard Crowpaw, but she did not respond. The RiverClan she-cat had been distant the whole journey home from the mountains, and Stoneheart didn’t blame her – though they had made it home, Crowpaw was right that they had lost much on the way.

She’s still grieving Stormfur. Feathertail’s brother had come with her on this journey despite not being chosen by StarClan, leading the group through all their trials and tribulations to reach not just their destination, but the future home of all four Clans – a lake so large that it captured the night sky. Stormfur had given his life in the mountains, saving the Tribe of Rushing Water from Sharptooth, a killer monster-cat that had been terrorizing the mountain dwellers for seasons.

“We’ll lose far more if we don’t act,” Mistyfoot decided sternly, taking the first step down the stony slope towards home. She looked back, her blue eyes burning. “Come on, there’s no time to waste.”

Wordlessly, the others followed her. Stoneheart found himself awkwardly skidding down the slope, pads stinging, to follow. When the ground finally flattened, he lengthened his stride to catch up to his sister, who was moving purposefully through the scrublands and towards the Thunderpath.

Worry pricked Stoneheart’s pelt as he looked at his sister. Though he had chosen to leave ThunderClan to join ShadowClan when they were apprentices, he still loved her – and he knew her well enough to know that she was taking Stormfur’s death just as hard as Feathertail. Mistyfoot and Stormfur had fallen in love over the course of the journey, and whatever future they had planned for one another had died when Stormfur plummeted off a high mountain precipice, taking Sharptooth with him.

She’s taking his last words to heart, Stoneheart thought, looking at the determination on Mistyfoot’s face. Stormfur had asked that Mistyfoot be the one to lead the Clans home, and she had promised to. True to that, she had taken the lead with her head held high and eyes set forward, never looking back as she carved the way home.

While he was proud that Mistyfoot seemed to be defeating her usual anxieties, Stoneheart worried that she was simply burying her emotions, not allowing herself to grieve or worry properly. It wasn’t healthy, and he feared it would lead to Mistyfoot breaking down badly somewhere along the way, or worse – becoming like their mother, the tyrant Bluestar who had nearly destroyed the forest in her desire for power and strength.

The sun crept through the sky as the cats neared the Thunderpath. Stoneheart felt his worries growing beyond his sister and towards ShadowClan territory – being this close to the damage made him fear what was going on in places that couldn’t easily be seen.

Mistyfoot raised her tail, and the cats paused. All of them were well versed in crossing Thunderpaths now, thanks to the many they had to cross over the course of their journey. This one, however, felt different than the others, despite it being a constant in all their lives.

“I don’t feel anything at all,” Feathertail commented, taking her paw off of the dark gray path. “No monsters.”

“Maybe the Twolegs aren’t going down this way right now?” Stoneheart guessed, glancing up and down the Thunderpath. With how many Thunderpaths he had seen on the journey, it was clear the Twolegs weren’t wanting for trails through their lands.

“Those monsters seem to be sleeping,” Nightpaw pointed out. He nodded to the large, boxy, yellow creatures crouched in a cluster nearby, on the other side of the dark stone river. They seemed to float far above the churned earth they slept upon. “Those things don’t wake up easy. I don’t see any Twolegs, either – they must have moved on.”

“Their stink is everywhere, though,” Shadepaw pointed out fretfully, her tail twitching. “What do we do?”

All eyes turned to Mistyfoot, who was clearly thinking through the same problem herself. Finally, she meowed, “We’ll cross, but take no risks – we run, and go as one. When we reach the other side, we do our best to get out of the mud as quickly as possible. We can’t afford to lose one another now.”

As the cats took up positions, Stoneheart placed himself beside Crowpaw. The lean WindClan apprentice was practically vibrating, his eyes wide as he took in the muddy terrain on the other side. When Mistyfoot gave the signal, Crowpaw shot off immediately – unsurprised, Stoneheart took off after him.

The crossing was painless – before too long they were all on the other side, sinking their paws into the stinky muck that the moorland here had become. Stoneheart curled his lip as he trudged through to solid ground. The mud was not unlike the swamps that ShadowClan called home, but feeling the sensations here, where the ground should be hard and dry and hidden in tall grass, made it feel gross and unnatural.

Crowpaw was out of the mud first, with Mistyfoot and Feathertail following. Nightpaw, with his shorter legs, floundered a little – Shadepaw helped him pull through. Stoneheart pulled himself onto the moorland last and shook out his paws, flinging a clot of mud a tail-length away.

“Imagine if it were raining!” Nightpaw breathed, eyes wide as she looked back at the broken earth behind them. “A cat could die in that!”

Crowpaw winced at the idea, and Nightpaw flicked his tail in apology. The small black tom butted his head against Crowpaw’s shoulder. It seemed like all was forgiven, though Crowpaw’s eyes were troubled.

“What now?” Stoneheart asked.

“Find a WindClan patrol, I suppose,” Mistyfoot determined. She glanced up at the sky and guessed, “It shouldn’t be too hard, for this time of day.”

“And then what?” Shadepaw asked. She looked uncertain. “We... separate?”

“Yes, I suppose we must,” Mistyfoot answered, her tone lowering.

Stoneheart felt a twinge of sympathy as Crowpaw, Nightpaw, and Shadepaw shared a glance. The three apprentices had grown close over the course of the journey, and they weren’t the only ones – the cats who had gone to the lake and back had become a little Clan of their own, and Stoneheart imagined those bonds would be hard to sever, especially for the young ones.

That was the point, though, he recalled. The wise badger they had met at the lake, Midnight, had said as much. We were meant to learn to work together for the good of all Clans.

Now we have to convince the others to do the same.

Mistyfoot started to lead the way further into WindClan territory, but stepped aside when Crowpaw instinctively strode ahead. Stoneheart felt his heart ache for the young cat – he'd come to see the stubborn WindClan apprentice as a sort of brother, and it hurt to see him suffering at the sight of his territory.

“We should meet up again as soon as possible,” Feathertail decided as they walked. Her blue eyes were intense with thought. “If WindClan territory is already this bad, we can’t afford to waste too much time.”

“She’s right,” Stoneheart agreed, looking to Mistyfoot.

“Tomorrow night, then,” Mistyfoot decided. “We’ll each bring our leaders and medicine cats and meet tomorrow night, at Fourtrees.”

“Fourtrees? What business do you have there?”

The unfamiliar voice cut through the air. Stoneheart’s hackles raised immediately as a harsh, peaty scent crossed his nostrils. Instinctively, he put himself towards the front, claws unsheathed as he used his body to shield the apprentices behind him. Mistyfoot was at his side, tail lashing, while Feathertail took up the rear, her fur fluffed out to look twice her size.

Upon the nearest hill were two cats, both sharing the same lanky, long build as Crowpaw. WindClan! Stoneheart realized, lowering his fur.

Crowpaw slipped through the line, eyes bright. “Webfoot!” he purred, tail up. “It’s me, Crowpaw!”

“Crowpaw!” A look of recognition passed across the older warrior’s gaunt face. He narrowed his eyes. “It is you! We thought you were dead!”

“I’m not,” Crowpaw pointed out, whiskers twitching. His eyes slid past Webfoot and to the young cat beside him. “Weaselkit? Is that you?”

“It’s Weaselpaw now,” corrected the tiny cat, whose fur was still bristling.

Crowpaw looked confused. “But... you can’t be six moons yet, right?”

Stoneheart wasn’t surprised – even if Weaselpaw was six moons, he looked to be a cat assembled from sticks and fur, and Stoneheart half expected a strong moorland breeze to blow him over. Webfoot didn’t look any better. Stoneheart swallowed, conscious of just how full he and the other cats were in comparison to these hollow creatures.

“You’ve been gone for some time, Crowpaw, and much has changed,” Webfoot pointed out. Despite the familiarity, Stoneheart noticed that the older WindClan warrior was treating Crowpaw with caution, and that too-young Weaselpaw’s eyes were darting from side to side, as if he were expecting something to come and surprise them.

Webfoot narrowed his eyes at the other cats. “And the rest of you? Where have you been?”

“A long way,” Crowpaw answered.

Webfoot apprised the group, eyes hungry. “You’ve eaten well, wherever you went. Where did all that prey come from?”

Awkwardly, Crowpaw repeated, “A long way away, beyond Highstones.”

“It’s a long story,” Mistyfoot answered diplomatically, stepping forward. “We-”

“Tell it to your Clans,” Webfoot grunted, curling his lip. The hunger in his eyes faded, replaced by cold Clan efficiency. “Come, Crowpaw.”

Stoneheart flicked an ear, glancing sidelong at the others, who were shuffling uncomfortably. The idea of parting had only just come up, did it have to happen so soon? Crowpaw hesitated, then stepped forward, his tail low.

“I’m coming,” he promised, “but I will say good-bye to these cats first.”

Webfoot did not look pleased by that. “Are they your Clan now?” he accused.

The fur along Crowpaw’s spine stood up, and he snapped, “Of course not! But we traveled a long way, and we did it together. I owe them this, at least.”

Stoneheart watched as Crowpaw touched his nose to Mistyfoot and Feathertail’s in turn, murmuring a quiet good-bye to them both. He butted heads with Nightpaw, and brushed his pelt against Stoneheart, who felt the purr rumbling from the young cat’s body. Stoneheart licked between Crowpaw’s ears in good-bye – he had been the most stubborn out of them all, but he had been the truest friend.

“Good bye,” he murmured to Shadepaw, pressing his muzzle into her fur. The young she-cat looked shocked by the gesture, before she relaxed and licked his ear.

“Go safely, Crowpaw,” she told him. “StarClan watches you.”

Webfoot was not pleased at all by Crowpaw’s actions, but the tom said nothing. He leveled his gaze on the other cats, and declared, “Avoid Fourtrees on your way home. It is a forsaken place, now.”

“What happened?” Feathertail asked.

“Twolegs,” Weaselpaw explained, and he offered nothing more, as if that was enough.

A prickle of horror passed through Stoneheart’s pelt. What did they do to Fourtrees? As if he had to guess, from what he’d seen of WindClan territory! But just the thought was too much to bear.

Crowpaw pulled away reluctantly, glancing back once more before he joined Webfoot and Weaselpaw. Moments later they were gone, disappearing among the heather and gorse.

The group stayed still, uncertainty in the air. It felt like Stoneheart just had a thorn pulled from his pad, and the blood was oozing out into nothing. Their group was parting just as unceremoniously.

“I should go, too,” he decided.

“What?” Mistyfoot’s eyes widened. “Now?”

He nodded. “Most of WindClan territory is gone; Fourtrees is likely gone, too. We don’t have time for sentiment. The Twolegs are moving quickly, and we’ve much to convince our Clans of.” He hadn’t even begun to think of how he’d explain it all to Russetstar – space from the others had to help.

Something flashed in Mistyfoot’s eyes. Stoneheart knew his brusqueness was hurting her, but it wasn’t his way to coat things in honey when plain words would do. WindClan was starving, Fourtrees was possibly gone, and they had work to do. Their journey wasn’t done yet, but this wasn’t something they could do together.

He touched his nose to Mistyfoot’s ear. “I’ll see you all again, tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night,” echoed Mistyfoot, quietly.

“Good bye, Stoneheart,” Nightpaw meowed.

Feathertail blinked at him. “Good luck.”

“StarClan watch over you,” Shadepaw prayed.

“And you all,” Stoneheart returned, dipping his head. “I’ll see you at Fourtrees – whatever remains of it.”

He pulled away from the others, heading for the Thunderpath again. He hoped they would forgive him for leaving so suddenly, but the thought of staying around longer than necessary made his fur prickle with a cold discomfort. I need to know if Rowanclaw is okay. If they’re all okay.

He picked up the pace, crossing the Thunderpath with ease. Don’t look back, Stoneheart, he told himself as the Thunderpath passed beneath him. You know it’s so much easier if you don’t look back.