[TB] DAWN -- Chapter 2 (Patreon)

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For the first time in a long time, Stoneheart walked in silence.

His ears twitched. He was used to the sound of Nightpaw and Crowpaw’s latest argument, or Mistyfoot and Stormfur chatting in hushed tones, or Shadepaw talking with Feathertail about an herb she saw and what it might do. The empty air seemed to amplify everything around him, from birdsong in the trees to the roar of a Twoleg monster as it woke somewhere in the distance.

Stoneheart couldn’t help but chide himself for leaving the others so suddenly. It’s not like I don’t love them! He thought, leaping over a stray branch that had fallen long ago. I’m just no good at good-byes.

He paused, lifting his head. There was a Twoleg nest here, he knew – an old one with a pair of elderly Twolegs. They didn’t bother cats much, but they certainly didn’t like it when ShadowClan patrols snooped for mice in their old barn. He could see the structure not far away, and the thin, spindly fence that surrounded the Twolegs’ territory.

Best avoid it, he told himself. After trekking through a winding Twolegplace for days and coming back to seeing what they’d done to the land he called home, he was quite sick of Twolegs. I miss Purdy, though, he reflected as he trod on towards the woods ahead. He seemed to know so much about why Twolegs are the way they are...

Sunhigh was gone by the time that Stoneheart reached the trees, and, as he passed a familiar rotten log, he scented ShadowClan. He paused to let the smell wash over him. It's so different now. Sharper. His journey with cats from all four Clans had muddled his senses, mixing their scents together into something new, something that was surprisingly comforting.

He tried to identify the patrol that had passed this way. Breathing in deep, he was happy that he recognized both their scents: Skipnose, that kittypet-turned-warrior, and Oakfur, he thought, lifting his chin. Smokepaw might have been with them, but he didn’t place a marker. They must have passed by before dawn.

Satisfied, Stoneheart went on, quickly identifying the trail his Clanmates had used through the vibrant marsh grass and putting himself on it, wary of his Clanmates lurking about. No cat was better than ShadowClan at blending into their surroundings, and Stoneheart would certainly be embarrassed if he were ambushed.

Traveling further into the woods, Stoneheart could feel leaf-fall's chill in the air. The trees here, more oak and birch than pine, were shedding their golden leaves onto the marsh around them. Stoneheart’s paws tugged him off the beaten path and further into the grove.

His pelt prickled in this familiar location, and he let his paws guide him to a small clearing between the trees. A fallen log and an old, gnarled boulder were surrounded by bright, five-petaled orange flowers – what ShadowClan medicine cats for ages called the blazing star.

Carefully, Stoneheart picked his way around the herb. Many ShadowClan cats believed that stepping on one meant disaster, as the herb had saved all four Clans seasons beyond counting ago. It was a point of pride that they only grew here, on ShadowClan land.

Stoneheart hopped on top of the boulder, relishing what little warmth it had managed to soak up from the sun. He breathed in the scents of the grove, his body relaxing. Though he had left ThunderClan for ShadowClan, this place reminded him of where he’d been born, with the thick cover of leaves and the smells of bracken and fern.

This is where I asked Rowanclaw to be my mate, he reflected, scanning the grove. Where he told me he wanted kits... and where Mistyfoot asked me to leave ShadowClan to go on the journey.

He sighed. And it’s going to be destroyed.

Stoneheart felt claws pierce his heart at the thought. So much that was so important to him would never be, could never be, again. Would this be the last time he laid eyes on this grove? Did the lake have anything like this?

His stomach rumbled, interrupting his thoughts. He hadn’t eaten since the leftovers the journeying cats had polished off at dawn. Stoneheart recalled the way Webfoot and Weaselpaw looked, and worried – did ShadowClan look the same?

I can barely hear Twoleg monsters, but there are some on our territory, he thought, listening. It seemed like the noises were on the far end of ShadowClan land, towards the woods by the Twolegplace they called the Black Fens. Maybe we’re better off than the others.

He heard the brambles rustle behind him. Stoneheart turned and spotted a dove picking its way along the ground, oblivious to his existence, as most doves were. Stomach growling again, Stoneheart dropped into a crouch.

The kill came easily – doves were simple-minded prey. But as he lifted his head from his fresh-kill, there was a screech of defiance and a blur of fur. Stoneheart was knocked off of his paws before he could react.

“Thief!” cried his attacker. “That’s ShadowClan prey!”

Stoneheart felt claws pricking his pelt. “I am ShadowClan!” he complained, twisting beneath his foe. His hind paws found their belly and, with a push, shoved them off of him. Stoneheart could hear them scrambling to their paws, but he was faster.

“Redpaw, it’s me!” he called to the ginger she-cat.

The apprentice paused, her posture an awkward mix of anger and shock. Slowly, though, her spine relaxed. “Stoneheart?” she murmured, whiskers twitching. “Is that... really you?”

“Yes!” Stoneheart breathed, his heart lifting. She’s not so skinny as the WindClan cats, he thought, looking her over. But she is still thin. He looked into the sparse undergrowth that surrounded them. “Where’s Pansytail?”

“Right here.” Redpaw’s mentor appeared, as if Stoneheart had called her. Pansytail’s dappled pelt blended in almost perfectly with the leaves on the ground. Her green eyes regarded Stoneheart with a caution that mirrored Webfoot’s. “Hello, Stoneheart.”

Another shape padded out from the shadows. “What’s going on?” asked a young dark brown tabby tom, his eyes darting from side to side. “Is it Twolegs? Another Clan?”

“Talonpaw?” Stoneheart tipped his head. “Is that you?”

“It’s Talonstripe now,” he said, lifting his head. He didn’t seem fussed that Stoneheart had reappeared right in front of him. “Russetstar made me a warrior a quarter-moon ago!”

“Congratulations!” Stoneheart felt light as he looked over his Clanmates. Clearly, he was receiving a better welcome than poor Crowpaw had!

“Where have you been?” Redpaw asked. She stepped forward and took a cautious sniff. “You smell funny.”

Talonstripe flicked his tail. “And you look fat,” he grunted, tipping his head towards Stoneheart’s side.

Stoneheart rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been to any Twolegs, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He turned to Pansytail, who he assumed was the leader of their patrol. “I need to speak to Russetstar.”

Pansytail was not regarding him with the same curiosity as the younger cats. There was something in her eyes, but whenever Stoneheart tried to meet her gaze, she looked away. Finally, she turned about and, with a flick of her dappled tail, she ordered, “Come.”

Redpaw and Talonstripe took a position alongside him as Pansytail led the way back along the trail. Stoneheart felt a prickle of discomfort run down his spine as he picked up his dove. Was he being escorted home as a Clanmate? Or as a possible enemy?

———————————————————

The trek through the pine woods was quiet, and Stoneheart was thankful for the dove in his mouth – it kept Redpaw or Talonstripe from asking questions he couldn’t easily answer with a nod. To his delight, most of the marshes were unchanged by the Twoleg invasion, though he couldn’t help but notice that Pansytail was taking a longer route to get back to camp.

We should be cutting through the Black Fens, he thought, glancing to his right. But we’re heading up towards Carrionplace instead. The path that they were walking on wasn’t as well-worn as most other hunting trails, meaning that it was just beginning to see constant use. Straining his ears, he could hear the rumble of Twoleg monsters coming from the direction he figured that they should be going. Have they begun destroying that part of our territory?

The dove in his mouth weighed heavy as he plodded on. Though it stopped him from answering questions, it kept him from asking them, too.

Stoneheart pushed his worries out of his mind for just a moment, letting himself enjoy the feel of being home again – the way the ground squished beneath his paws, the rustle of the pines and the crackle of their needles... even the little stinky mushrooms that bloomed over the rotted old fallen trees. He had missed it all so much!

Pansytail pulled them off of their current path as soon as Carrionplace came into view. The stench of crow-food and Twoleg rubbish wasn’t overpowering yet, but Stoneheart still wrinkled his nose regardless. That’s one part of our territory I won’t miss! He thought. Carrionplace, and the nasty rats within, had always been nothing but trouble for ShadowClan – a source of food that all too often came with a deadly price.

The patrol was following a familiar trail again, this one picking its way between boggy ponds and thick bunches of sedge and swamp grass. The smells of chervil, sweet pye, and mint were strong here, and he scented Littlecloud beneath it all – this was his favorite spot for gathering herbs.

Ahead, a sedge bush rustled violently. Pansytail lifted her tail and the patrol halted behind her. Stoneheart looked over the shorter warrior, wondering what could be up ahead – another patrol, possibly? His heart ached as the anticipation of seeing his Clanmates again was stronger than he realized.

It was a rabbit, however, that shot out of the bush. It lolloped across the bog, its white tail up. If it saw the cats, it gave no indication... and if the patrol was going to go after it, Pansytail gave no signal.

Why not? Stoneheart was confused. The rabbit was plump, and easy prey in the sticky, wet soil, yet none of the cats surrounding him seemed at all interested in going after it despite the faint outline of their ribs poking through their pelts.

As soon as the rabbit was gone, Pansytail picked up the pace again. Stoneheart adjusted his grip on his dove, still confused.

“The Twolegs have poisoned the rabbits,” Talonstripe explained, glancing Stoneheart’s way. “They make cats sick to eat, and most who’ve eaten one have died.”

A weight dropped in Stoneheart’s belly, sudden and hard. No wonder the WindClan cats were so skinny! He thought, the fur along his spine prickling with horror. His mind immediately turned to Crowpaw, and how the brash apprentice might take the news. How are they surviving at all right now?

“We haven't lost anyone,” Pansytail assured, glancing back, “but the other Clans have. Thankfully they were able to warn us before we got to eating any rabbits on the fresh-kill pile.”

Stoneheart breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn’t quell the discomfort he felt at the thought of Twolegs poisoning the very prey that the Clan cats lived off of. First rabbits, what next? The dove in his mouth suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing anymore.

Soon enough, Stoneheart realized that they were closing in on the ShadowClan camp. He took in the familiar pines standing tall over an outer wall of bushes prickly enough to keep away any predator that got too curious. Stoneheart could hear the babble of the stream that ran through camp, a part of the river that tapered off into the marshes like a cat’s tail.

His heart soared. It was still there – still whole and undamaged, nestled deep in the heart of the marshland. The smell of ShadowClan surrounded him, pulling his paws onward.

I’m home.

He had to stop himself before he got too carried away. Like in the star flower grove, he had to remember that the Twoleg monsters would come chugging for this place – sooner rather than later. This place that he called home would be gone.

“Nervous?” Redpaw wondered.

Stoneheart swallowed. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, and not just because of the dove in his jaws. Redpaw looked confused that a ShadowClan cat would be so worried about returning home. She didn’t know – she didn’t understand.

He pushed past the apprentice, catching up to Pansytail as she ducked beneath the sedge-and-fern tunnel that led into the camp.

I’m home, he thought as he stepped into the clearing, but this place won’t be home for long.