[TB] DAWN -- Chapter 16 (Patreon)

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Stoneheart woke the next day feeling sore from the stones but fresh otherwise, and full of hope. RiverClan was leaving with the other Clans, and from the bustling of the cats at Sunningrocks, Stoneheart guessed that preparations were well underway. He stood up and stretched, finding that Rowanclaw and the others had already awakened and left.

“I want hunting patrols!” Mudclaw was yowling. “Every cat, every Clan! I want the forest searched from top to bottom for any fresh-kill!”

“Apprentices, help the medicine cats!” Blackfoot’s voice added. “We’ll need as many traveling herbs as possible!”

Stoneheart poked his head up from the ditch. Cats from every Clan were forming up under the deputies' orders, creating patrols that mixed ThunderClan, ShadowClan, and WindClan before trekking out into the forest. Littlecloud, Brackenfur, and Barkface had gathered up the three Clan’s apprentices, and were clearly showing them what they needed to look out for before Ryewhisper led them into the trees.

I don’t see Nightpaw or Shadepaw, Stoneheart thought, watching the apprentices for a moment. He looked to the nursery, and his worries eased, just a little. The siblings were helping the queens – Nightpaw was shaking out their bedding, while Shadepaw was giving each kit a checkup.

Pity and sorrow pierced Stoneheart’s chest. The two apprentices were still clearly in pain from the loss of their mother, and Silverstream was watching them like a hawk, ready to pounce on any signs of despair. While Stoneheart was happy that the Clans would be leaving for the lake as one... he wished it hadn’t cost them Sandstorm.

“You’re awake, finally!” Stoneheart’s ears turned to the voice. Rowanclaw and Mistyfoot were approaching, looking bright-eyed and energized.

Stoneheart pulled himself out of the ditch and touched noses with his mate, purring and breathing in his scent. He never wanted to forget what Rowanclaw smelled like, or looked like, or anything about him – not after nearly losing him to the Twolegs forever.

“I’m awake,” he agreed. “What needs doing?”

“Everything, lazybones,” Mistyfoot mewed, her whiskers twitching with amusement. “Leopardstar came at dawn with Tawnypelt and Feathertail – they're still talking with Tallstar, Tinystar, and Russetstar, but the consensus is that we’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

Stoneheart blinked. Tomorrow? That felt so soon, and yet, with the roar of the monsters sounding so close to Sunningrocks... they couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

“We’re on hunting duty,” Rowanclaw meowed. “Mudclaw doesn’t want any cat leaving on an empty stomach! He even said we could eat while on patrol, so long as we brought something back.” He nodded to the edge of Sunningrocks, where Crowpaw and Feathertail were waiting. Stoneheart felt a flash of love towards his mate – Rowanclaw knew exactly the cats that Stoneheart would want to hunt with.

Mistyfoot’s eyes clouded. “We thought... it would be a good time to say good-bye, too,” she meowed, her voice going a touch quiet.

Stoneheart felt a lump in his throat. He supposed that now would be the best – and only – time to say good-bye to their home... what remained of it, anyway. “What about them?” Again, Stoneheart looked to Nightpaw and Shadepaw – they had all journeyed together, and Stoneheart felt badly for leaving them out now.

Mistyfoot faltered. “I...” Stoneheart saw guilt pass before her eyes. “I’ll ask.”

Stoneheart wondered if he should’ve pressed, watching his sister pad awkwardly up to the nursery. He felt Rowanclaw press his pelt against his side, as if to support him. Mistyfoot talked first to Silverstream, then, at the queen’s nod, to Nightpaw and Shadepaw.

“Do you think Nightpaw blames her?” Stoneheart wondered, watching them talk. He wished he could hear what they were saying.

“I don’t know,” Rowanclaw sighed. “But I don’t think so.”

After a quiet conversation, Mistyfoot returned to Stoneheart and Rowanclaw with only Nightpaw. The small black tom couldn’t seem to muster any excitement, but he didn’t look unwilling – he stuck close to Mistyfoot, his eyes downcast to his paws.

“Shadepaw wanted to stay and look after the kits,” Mistyfoot explained. “Plus, the other medicine cats might need her here.”

“Then we should be off!” Rowanclaw meowed, his voice brisk. He flicked his tail against Stoneheart’s shoulder. “The only thing I wanted to do while stuck in that Twoleg cage was hunt with you again!”

Stoneheart couldn’t help but purr, his spirits lifted. Together, the four cats headed for Feathertail and Crowpaw, who was looking impatient to be off, his thin tail lashing to and fro. The WindClan apprentice stilled his annoyance, though, at the sight of Nightpaw – it only came through his voice: “Finally,” he groaned, “I wanted to be off ages ago!”

“Well, we’ve got a long way to go, and a lot to see,” Mistyfoot responded. She waved her tail, gathering up the patrol. “Come on.”

She led the way into the forest, heading towards the Owl Tree. Stoneheart strained his ears – it sounded like the Twolegs were working near the Treecut Place today. He prayed to StarClan that their patrol avoided the hairless creatures. After the liberation of the captured cats, Stoneheart guessed that the Twolegs wouldn’t be so happy to see Clan cats right now, and the feeling was certainly mutual.

They followed the river, moving at a slow pace with their pelts brushing together. Stoneheart turned his gaze down the shore, finding that the river water was barely a stream, now. It looked so small in the deep, wide channel it had made in the earth. Stoneheart looked to Feathertail, who was staring at the water, too. He touched Mistyfoot’s shoulder with his nose, signaling for her to stop the patrol.

Feathertail looked incredibly sad. “The water was the thing I loved most about RiverClan,” she meowed, quietly. “Whenever things weren’t good... I could swim, and forget it all. It disappeared so slowly, at first, and now... even the fish are gone.”

The silver tabby she-cat swallowed. The other cats drew to her side, murmuring words of comfort. Stoneheart pressed his pelt against her’s, wishing he knew what to say. Though he’d watched ShadowClan’s camp be destroyed, that had happened so quickly – he couldn’t imagine it happening more gradually.

“No water,” Feathertail went on, “no Stormfur...” She lifted her muzzle, her gaze entreating her friends for support. “What do I do now?”

Stoneheart winced at the pain in her eyes. “We go on,” he meowed, “and find our new home at the end of it all.”

“Stormfur will be there, too,” Crowpaw promised.

Mistyfoot nodded. Her blue eyes glittered fiercely. “He would never abandon you, Feathertail,” she assured. “No matter what.”

Feathertail gave her an appreciative look. Her whiskers twitched, and she swept her tail through the air. “I suppose you’re right, all of you,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

They lingered a moment more, but soon enough Mistyfoot was leading the way again. Their paws followed what remained of the river, crossing the fork easily and heading over the border into RiverClan territory.

Nightpaw was put off: “Is this... okay?” he wondered.

“Borders don’t matter now,” Rowanclaw assured the young cat.

“If anyone complains, I’ll say I gave permission,” Feathertail added. “I doubt we’ll run into anyone around here, anyway.”

It seemed to satisfy Nightpaw, but Stoneheart couldn’t help but feel just a little awkward anyway. Though the Clans were in a strange alliance right now, it still felt strange to tread on another Clan’s territory.

Ahead was land mostly untouched by the Twolegs – a sweeping grassland of low hills that grew steeper the closer they came to the moorland. There were sparse pockets of forest here and there, trees whose leaves had long turned golden and red and orange, their tops shedding in the gentle breeze.

The patrol followed the river as it turned into the gorge, but kept their heading to the moorland instead of turning with the waters. They walked across RiverClan territory in silence, stopping only to bring down a few birds that thought it safe to pick wrinkly berries off of a juniper bush. Though the birds had been eating the berries, they were no fatter than any other prey in the forest.

The cats shared the paltry meal between them, and continued on. Past sunhigh, the hills grew steeper and steeper, and the scent of heather was on the wind, though it was almost overwhelmed by the smell of turned earth and monster fumes.

Crowpaw took the lead here, sprinting to the edge of RiverClan’s territory and stopping. The others followed, lining up beside the WindClan tom. Beside Stoneheart, Rowanclaw took in a sharp breath.

Stoneheart didn’t blame his mate – it was still shocking to see what had become of WindClan’s territory. He had never thought it beautiful, but there had always been a serene grace to the tall grasses and swaying heather and gorse – now, though, there was churned earth and Twoleg tracks, monsters perched as if they were securing their boundaries, and the hills... they were gone, leveled and stripped down to an unnaturally even layer of dirt.

Crowpaw took a step forward, over the border. The wind whipped at his thin pelt, his ears flapping against his head. His thin legs trembled, and Nightpaw was instantly by his side, as if to stop him from falling over.

“They took everything,” Crowpaw meowed, his voice full of grief and anger. “It’s just... gone.”

“Crowpaw...” Mistyfoot took a hesitant step forward.

Crowpaw whipped around, his dark eyes sharp. “There’s nothing left to say good-bye to,” he declared, trotting down the hill. Stoneheart could see the pain in his eyes, and the way the WindClan apprentice’s tail trembled. “Come on.”

There was little the rest of the patrol could do but follow.

They continued on in silence, Mistyfoot leading them away from the border to spare Crowpaw’s feelings. The hill was a pain to walk along, but soon enough the land flattened out into Fourtrees – or, sadly, what remained of it.

Rowanclaw sighed, padding with the others into the once-sacred place. “I wish I could have stopped it,” he murmured.

Stoneheart blinked at his mate, surprised. “You saw this happen?” he guessed.

Rowanclaw nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow as his gaze swept across the hollow. “We could only watch as the Twolegs and their monsters tore it all down,” he explained. The others turned their eyes to him, as if the ginger tom was an elder recounting a horror story. “The trees... they seemed to scream...”

Stoneheart pressed his muzzle into Rowanclaw’s pelt. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “It’ll be okay...”

Crowpaw approached the Great Rock, sitting lumpy and cracked on its side. He gave it a sniff, the fur between his shoulders rising. The others were spreading out, tails twitching with unease as they took in what remained of this once-sacred place.

“When I was a kit, I snuck out here and played on the Great Rock for a whole day!” Crowpaw announced, lifting his chin to the group with pride sparkling in his eyes.

Feathertail purred, “No way!”

Crowpaw puffed his chest. “It was fun!” he declared. “I thought I was leader of WindClan, declaring war on ShadowClan for trespassing on our territory – but it wasn’t so fun with no one else to play with, and...” he sagged, a little, “Well, I don’t think it would be very fun to declare a war anymore.”

“Thank StarClan for that,” chuckled Rowanclaw. He looked like Crowpaw’s story had cheered him up, somewhat. “I can say for certain that you would’ve regretted that choice!”

“But he’s right,” Stoneheart mewed, stepping forward. “Who doesn’t come here and dream of standing above everyone else? I know I have – and Mistyfoot, I know you do...”

Mistyfoot licked her chest fur, looking embarrassed. “Yes, well...”

“I don’t want to be leader,” Rowanclaw admitted. He chuckled ruefully, “It sounds like too much trouble.”

“Agreed,” Feathertail mewed, certainty in her voice. “Clan politics can be bad enough when you’re a warrior – why try to be at the head of it all? And the responsibility...”

Crowpaw looked to Stoneheart. “You’d be able to handle it, I think,” he said and, looking to Mistyfoot, he added, “You, too.”

Stoneheart was taken aback, and Mistyfoot looked even more embarrassed, turning her muzzle away to avoid responding.

“Oh?” Rowanclaw purred. “Would you want to be ShadowClan’s leader, Stoneheart?”

“I mean... I...” Stoneheart had trouble with the words. On one paw, yes – of course he did. But on the other paw... he met Mistyfoot’s eye, and knew she was thinking the same thing. If either of us became leader of our Clans... everyone else might only see Bluestar in us.

Feathertail saved him from responding – her gaze had turned to Nightpaw, who hadn’t spoken up at all this entire conversation. “Nightpaw? What’s up?”

Nightpaw was in the center of the hollow, his tail dragging in the dirt and his low belly dirty from the churned earth below. He was staring at the Great Rock, his expression difficult to read.

“My first Gathering...” he meowed, his voice tight, “I... Sandstorm showed me the Great Rock. She said I might be there, one day.”

The small apprentice turned around, his eyes filled with sorrow. “The last thing she said to me was that I’d be able to show her how brave I am – but she’s gone, and I can’t do that anymore. I’ll never see her again!”

“Nightpaw...” Mistyfoot breathed.

Nightpaw shivered from ears to tail. “I just... don’t know what to do, now. We're leaving... and we’re leaving her behind.”

There was silence in the hollow. No cat was sure what to say, or how – Stoneheart understood Nightpaw’s grief, but how could he express his sympathies when Rowanclaw was standing right beside him, safe from the Twolegs at the cost of Sandstorm? So, he said nothing, letting Nightpaw’s sorrow ring out; the others seemed to be feeling similarly.

“I know we need to leave,” Nightpaw murmured, his gaze entreating the others. “And I know that she’ll find us, when she can, but I don’t know when that might be... I’m going to miss her.”

Feathertail let out a sympathetic murmur and licked Nightpaw between the ears. Crowpaw twined his tail with his friend’s, and nodded to the edge of the hollow, where the land sloped up to WindClan territory.

“I’m leaving my father behind,” Crowpaw meowed, his voice steady. “I don’t know if that helps you. I hardly knew him, but... I wish I did. I wish I could miss him like you miss Sandstorm.”

Nightpaw didn’t speak, but he nodded, pressing himself into Crowpaw for support.

Stoneheart met Mistyfoot’s eyes. Crowpaw’s words had stirred something in him, and clearly, Mistyfoot was thinking it, too. The blue-gray she-cat jerked her muzzle, and the headed for the edge of the hollow, where trees would have stood. Stoneheart followed.

The grass here was patchy from the Twolegs and their monsters, and Mistyfoot halted near the stumps of some bracken. She nodded at the earth with her muzzle. “We buried her there, Tinystar and I,” she said, her voice tight. “I should’ve told you...”

“I get why you didn’t,” Stoneheart said. He stared down at the earth, trying to imagine Tinystar and Mistyfoot, an apprentice then, digging the hole, then dragging Bluestar’s eviscerated corpse into it. If he smelled too intensely, he thought he could scent her, here. “But thanks for telling me.”

“Do you really think we can leave her behind?” Mistyfoot wondered, her voice quiet.

Stoneheart glanced behind him, at Nightpaw and Crowpaw and the others. Nightpaw seemed to be soothed, now, buoyed up by his friend’s attempts to relate to him. He looked back at Bluestar’s grave, unmarked, unknown... Stoneheart thought of his dream of her, when his thoughts had turned dark and hopeless.

“Don’t ever forget where that strength came from,” she had said.

“We’ll always carry a piece of her with us,” Stoneheart meowed, with certainty. “But it’s up to us to ensure that it’s a good one. She gave us strength, Mistyfoot... and we need to use it in every way she didn’t.”

Mistyfoot said nothing, her eyes focused on the grave. Stoneheart watched her, noting how tense her muscles seemed. He recalled that he might have scented her in that dark, oppressive forest.

Had she met Bluestar there, too?