[TB] DAWN -- Chapter 26 (Patreon)

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The sky was soon too choked with dark clouds to tell time properly, but Stoneheart assumed it was nearing evening.

At the head of the group, Stoneheart could see that Duskflower’s death weighed heavy on Feathertail. The silver tabby she-cat was trying her best to keep the Clans from having to face something like that again – that and the heavy snowfall had slowed progress down to a crawl.

The Clans had trudged their way through the snowy pass and emerged in thankfully more open area, due to Feathertail’s knowledge of the mountain’s hunting trails. No cat was eager to brave narrow passageways, and no cat looked upon the tall cliffs surrounding them with awe, not after hearing poor Duskflower’s last wail drop out of earshot quick as a blink.

Stoneheart lifted a paw and shook it half-heartedly. He could still see Duskflower’s last moments in his mind, the black she-cat there one moment and out of reach the next. As he licked out a knot of hardened snow from between his pads, he felt both sick and resolved.

We need to get out of here, he thought, or falling will be the least of our problems. He could barely feel the warmth of his own tongue – he could hardly imagine how other cats, especially those with thinner pelts, were coping.

It was difficult to think about the other Clans right now. Stoneheart’s eye drifted naturally to the ShadowClan cats dotted throughout the crowd, pushing through the snow with grim faces and hardened gazes shot with grief. Smokepaw had hardly spoken a word since his mother’s death, and he trudged on as if whatever lay ahead was all that remained to him. Stoneheart might’ve worried more for the young tom if Oakfur, his mentor, weren’t keeping a close eye on him.

The other members of ShadowClan were clustered in small, grieving groups, separate from the other Clans. Wolftooth was with Finchsong and Cedarheart, his grandkits draped across his back to keep their paws warm. Russetstar and Pansytail walked with their heads low. Blackfoot and Orre were keeping their heads high, senior warriors trying to look like beacons, while Talonstripe, Skipnose, and Redpaw walked in front of Tallpoppy, their movements clearly an attempt to test the ground before the skittish queen and her young babies.

Stoneheart’s heart felt like it might crack open. ShadowClan had always been private about their grieving processes. No other Clan could claim they knew a lick about how ShadowClan laid their dead to rest; but now they were exposed, forced to show the others a hint of vulnerability – something so not ShadowClan that it made Stoneheart’s mouth taste like bile.

Still, it was not all sadness – not too far away, Stoneheart saw Pinewhisker and Nightwing together, their pelts blending into one. They were talking, clearly, and the way their tails were twined made Stoneheart feel a little less awful about Duskflower: the queen would’ve been very happy to see the two sorting out their difficulties.

The crunch of snow nearby pulled Stoneheart from his thoughts. Rowanclaw was coming his way, and he paused to shake a small drift’s worth of snow from his back. Green eyes glittering with worry, he murmured, “It’s getting worse...”

Stoneheart swallowed, and looked up. Rowanclaw was right – the snowfall had been increasing in speed all day, with no signs of it stopping. He blinked away snowflakes from his eyes and turned his muzzle down.

“I know,” he breathed, a cloud of steam forming before him.

“Isn’t there anywhere to shelter?” Rowanclaw asked. His fur was fluffed along his spine, a desperate attempt to keep off even a little of the snowfall.

Stoneheart could only shrug. “I don’t know,” he said helplessly. With so much snow on the ground, even if Stoneheart had recognized a particular spot, he couldn’t say whether or not it would be adequate shelter for four whole Clans. He just didn’t know the Tribe’s territory that well. “Feathertail will tell us when we’ve gotten to someplace we can stop.”

“Well, she had best find that someplace soon,” Rowanclaw muttered. “We just aren’t made for this weather.” He drew close to Stoneheart, and with a twist in his stomach he felt that Rowanclaw was hardly warm at all.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before Rowanclaw was proven more than right – after traversing one open area and going into the next, the Clans were faced with a solid wall of white. The flurry had turned into a blizzard.

“Great StarClan,” breathed Tinystar, his voice ringing out in the snowy quiet. The snow had consumed the small ThunderClan leader’s belly and legs.

“I can’t see a whisker in front of me!” complained Ashfur. He lashed out with his paws, trying to make a path. “I hate this place!”

“Keep calm!” called Mistyfoot. She moved through the crowd, her blue eyes flickering over each cat. Ashfur’s attitude was only amplifying the anxieties the cats felt by seeing such an impenetrable wall of snow. “We’ll find a way!”

“Before our kits freeze?” Tallpoppy was bristling from ears to tail-tip, her eyes flashing. Stoneheart felt sorry for the queen – her fur was thin, and her kittens were small. “Applekit can barely move!”

“My paws hurt!” complained Willowkit. Beside him, Larchkit coughed roughly.

Snowstep immediately scooped up his son, his blue eyes wide with alarm. Lashing his tail he signed, “Tinystar, we cannot stay here!”

“I know that,” Tinystar called back. His ice blue eyes were hardly visible in the powder. “But until we’ve found shelter, we need to keep moving!” He turned his dark head towards the front of the Clans. “Feathertail, is there anything ahead?”

Feathertail was barely an outline in Stoneheart’s sight, identifiable only by her thick neck fur and tail. Her voice carried through the blizzard: “I think we’re close to Tribe territory! I just can’t tell how close. If we keep going...”

“Feathertail,” Mothwing reasoned from within the crowd, “we may need to think about shelter for the now – we cannot risk the young to this intense cold!”

Feathertail faltered. Snow clogged her whiskers, and she looked like a cat made from ice. “Just a little further!” she urged. “Please!”

There was little argument. After all, what could they do, really, but forge ahead? Stoneheart, however, felt a flicker of worry in his belly – what if Feathertail couldn’t tell where she was going, either? What if she had gotten them lost in the mountains?

He knew he wasn’t the only one thinking such thoughts – he could see it in the eyes of every cat, even Feathertail’s own Clanmates. He was sure that Graystripe and Silverstream were the only ones who likely had complete faith in their daughter. Even Mistyfoot was looking doubtful, and guilty besides.

Stoneheart swallowed. Feathertail is my friend, he told himself, over and over. She’s going to do her best to see us through.

It seemed like the Clans floundered in the snow for hours more, all sense of time lost. Stoneheart was exhausted, and his toes were sore from being stubbed on one too many hidden stones – he was more fortunate than some, however. Poor Thornpaw’s injured pad was so hard to deal with now that she could barely walk, and the kittens were stiff as frozen mice, barely moving when prompted by their parents.

It was only inevitable when Brackenfur dragged his injured leg up to the leaders. “We have to stop,” he declared, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “Dawnflower’s kits aren’t moving.”

So, stop they did: Feathertail found a somewhat sheltered spot beneath a large, rocky outcrop. There was less snow there, and the cats were able to keep out of the cutting wind, even if it was only in shifts. Dawnflower hurried her kittens to the center, surrounding them with her body as she and the other queens frantically attempted to warm them with their tongues.

Heart beating in his ears, Stoneheart wondered if he might watch all three of those kittens die tonight. StarClan, don’t do this to us!

“We can’t stay here long.” Falcontail’s voice insisted over the worried chatter of cats. “There’ll be no prey in this blizzard, and this is no real shelter.”

“It’s better than nothing,” muttered some cat.

Stoneheart saw a flash of gold as Falcontail’s eyes narrowed. “Not if kits die,” the gray tabby snarled back.

“Barkface,” Ryewhisper’s mew was cut by his chattering teeth. “S-Shadepaw and I were talking... what if w-we packed s-snow around the queens?”

“We think it might insulate them,” Shadepaw pressed, her amber eyes hopeful. “Help them keep warm!”

“Or freeze them to death!” hissed Sootfur, looking shocked at his Clanmate.

“No, no, there’s merit to that idea...” Barkface mused, flicking his stumpy tail. “Gather the other apprentices and have them help you. It should work in the meantime.” He touched his nose to Ryewhisper’s. “Good idea!”

“It was m-mostly Shadepaw’s,” Ryewhisper admitted.

Shadepaw’s fur was fluffed against the cold. “I remembered Crowpaw talking about how WindClan sometimes used snow to keep the wind out of their dens in leaf-bare, that’s all.”

Stoneheart sighed with some relief. Perhaps that would help – but for how long? He looked to the sky again, feeling cold wind biting his ear-tips. There was still no sign of the blizzard abating, and it was getting darker and darker. They would be very vulnerable to the predators of the mountain – Sharptooth might be dead, but what else lurked between the crags?

“We’ll have to huddle together at this rate,” Rowanclaw chuckled. He pressed himself further into Stoneheart’s pelt. “All of us in one big pile...”

He was clearly trying to find humor in the situation, but Stoneheart could see his mate’s legs trembling with cold. Stoneheart wrapped his thick tail around Rowanclaw as best as he could, feeling Rowanclaw purr in response.

“I’ve never been more grateful that forest cats have thick pelts...” he sighed. More quietly he complained, “I don’t want to pile up with RiverClan, Stoneheart... they still stink like fish...”

As if the mention of RiverClan had summoned her, Feathertail appeared – she was stalking the outer boundaries of their would-be shelter, her thick tail flicking back and forth. She was staring at their surroundings, her blue eyes narrowed in thought. Stoneheart was about to ask her what she was thinking of when her jaws opened in a yowl:

“I know this place!”

Her declaration caught the attention of many of the cats huddled up beneath the outcrop, and a flare of hope set off in Stoneheart.

“You do?” he urged.

Feathertail nodded. “I thought the roots sticking out from the cliff were familiar, and it took me a moment in this blizzard, but... this is Claw Tree!”

Mistyfoot’s ears twitched. “By StarClan, you’re right!” she breathed. “That means that the Tribe isn’t far off!”

Feathertail nodded rapidly. “I can find them from here!” she promised.

“Can you really?” Crowpaw wondered, looking up from a pile of snow.

“Would they help us?” queried Russetstar.

Feathertail was still nodding. “Yes, yes, of course they would!” Her eyes were shining. “I’ll go, I’ll find them, as quick as I can!”

Stoneheart was taken aback by her eagerness, yet it was the best hope they had. “Be careful,” he told her.

Feathertail didn’t seem to hear him – or anyone else. She had already taken off, bounding through the snow until her shape had disappeared into the blizzard entirely.

“What a shock,” growled Falcontail, his voice low. The dappled gray tom slid through the snow, his yellow eyes slits. “Off she goes, at the first opportunity.”

Stoneheart bristled. He turned to face the RiverClan warrior and growled, “What’s that supposed to mean? Feathertail is trying to help!”

Falcontail curled his lip in return. “Had she wanted to help, she should have stayed and tried to find food, or another way to warm the kits – not run off as soon as she found an excuse.”

Stoneheart bared his teeth in a snarl, but Falcontail was already stalking off himself. His tail dragged along the rising snowbanks, and he muttered, “But then again, she was never very happy to be with RiverClan...”

You piece of fox-dung! Stoneheart’s claws unsheathed beneath the snow. His haunches burned, and he longed to lunge at Falcontail and sink his teeth in to the RiverClan tom’s ear.

“He’s not worth it,” Rowanclaw murmured, pressing tighter against Stoneheart. His presence, his need for warmth, drew Stoneheart’s attention back to what mattered most. “We should help build the snow-wall, or look for prey while we wait.”

“Feathertail is coming back,” Stoneheart assured. “She'll bring help.”

“I know,” Rowanclaw agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we oughtn’t try to improve our situation in the meantime. Cats like Falcontail certainly aren’t going to.”

Stoneheart sighed. “As always... you’re right, Rowanclaw.” He touched his nose to his mate’s ear, his fury melting away.

Rowanclaw purred. “Good that you know it!” He puffed out his chest. “Now come on, lazy bones, or your paws will freeze to the stone!”

———————————————————

“Stop licking,” Rowanclaw sighed. “It just makes your pads colder.”

Stoneheart pulled his tongue back in. Hunting had been fruitless in the blizzard, so he had settled for helping the warriors erect their snowy wall around the queens. It’d been a lot of effort, and Stoneheart could barely feel his toes anymore for the thick gobs of snow clinging between them.

Rowanclaw was right, though; the licking wasn’t helping. Shivering, Stoneheart leaned against his mate. Feathertail had been gone for what felt like a whole season, though it’d only been a few hours. The Clans had managed to create their wind barrier, but it didn’t seem to be helping the kits warm up. How long was it going to take before the Tribe was found?

What if she’s lost out there? Stoneheart thought, his heart thumping in his chest. Or worse... what if she never comes back?

He banished that thought immediately. Feathertail just wasn’t that type of cat – she would never abandon those that needed her.

Stoneheart lifted his head to look around. It was dark, now, what moonlight there might have been stopped by the thick wall of clouds in the sky. The stark whiteness of the snow was its own strange light, however, and he could see dark shapes moving in the snowy fog.

The Clans had cleared out a space beneath Claw Tree for the most vulnerable – the queens, kits, Thornpaw, and the medicine cats – with their snow-wall to one side. The warriors and leaders were left to either wander the area in order to keep their limbs warm, or huddle in piles and hope for their body heat to spread. There wasn’t much conversation, either; a stark difference to nearly every other night of the journey.

Some cat sneezed. Another coughed. Stoneheart felt his chest tighten. Even if we make it through the night, who’s to say we won’t come out of this with greencough, or worse?

There was another noise, too – a low, keening howl that carried through the blizzard.

“What in StarClan’s name is t-that?” wondered Ashfoot. The thin WindClan she-cat was huddled with a group of her Clanmates, her tail tucked close to her body.

Beside her, Crowpaw answered, “Wolves.”

“What’re those?” asked Cinderpelt. She was tucked in with Dustpelt and Spiderpaw, her thick fur sheltering her daughter from the snow.

“Like a coyote,” answered Crowpaw, “but meaner, and bigger.”

Stoneheart felt a pit form in his stomach as the Clans began to chatter with fear. Coyotes were a far rarer occurrence than foxes, and Stoneheart recalled Crowpaw saying that they only really showed upon the moor, trying to hunt the Twoleg’s livestock. The idea of something far bigger was not comforting.

“Think they’ll be a problem?” Rowanclaw wondered.

“I don’t know,” Stoneheart admitted.

There was another noise, then, this one far closer than the one before – not a howl, and the sound of it put warmth in Stoneheart’s limbs again:

“There they are!” Feathertail’s voice yowled into the wind. “Hurry!”

Several dark shapes suddenly flitted through the whirl of snow – Feathertail, first, and then a patrol of small, taut-bodied cats with short tails and eyes that flashed in the gloom.

The Tribe! Stoneheart’s eyes widened. She found them!

“I’m so sorry,” Feathertail breathed, her breath puffing before her muzzle. “I got turned around in the snow, and--”

“It’s okay,” Mistyfoot insisted. She rushed up to Feathertail and touched noses with the RiverClan she-cat. Then, her gaze drifted to the Tribe cats, and she dipped her head to them: “Talon, Cloud, Red... it’s so good to see you again!”

Red thrust his graying muzzle forward, his eyes flashing. Stoneheart recalled the ginger tom’s temper. “What were you Clan cats thinking, bringing kits here in the middle of frozen-water?!”

“Be calm, Red,” Talon soothed, placing his thick, short tail over his Tribemate’s shoulders. “I’m sure they had their reasons.”

Cloud pushed her way through the crowd, her black pelt like a shadow. She seemed indifferent to the wary gazes flashed in her direction as she made a beeline towards the queens. Stoneheart got to his paws, wondering if she needed help.

Dawnflower was curled around her kittens, lapping at their fur in an attempt to keep them warm. Stoneheart’s heart sank – it honestly looked like two were already dead. Cloud, however, picked each up by their scruff and laid them along Dawnflower’s body.

“Don’t lick,” Cloud advised, ignoring Dawnflower’s indignant mew. Cloud raised her paws. “Rub.”

Stoneheart watched the Tribe she-cat use her paws to push at the kitten’s fur. After a few moments of furious rubbing, the small kitten let out a squeal. Dawnflower’s expression changed immediately, her eyes glowing with newfound warmth for this stranger.

“Oh, thank StarClan!” the queen breathed. Cloud only nodded curtly, moving to help Tallpoppy and Ferncloud do the same for their little ones.

“You are the Tribe?” asked Tinystar. The small black tom was up to his chest in snow, but it didn’t seem to diminish his stature. Leopardstar, Mudclaw, and Russetstar stood beside him, each one looking over the Tribe patrol with concern in their eyes.

“We are,” Talon answered, stepping forward. “I am Talon of Swooping Eagle, and these are my Tribemates, Cloud That Covers Moon and Red Sun on Horizon.” He dipped his head to Tinystar, in that strange way the Tribe cats did. “We have come to take you to the Cave of Rushing Water. Your Clans may shelter from the blizzard there.”

Leopardstar stepped forward, her eyes flashing. “And why should we trust you?”

“Leopardstar!” Feathertail gasped, bristling. “Really?!”

Talon, however, looked amused rather than offended. “It’s fine, Feathertail – she is right to question us.” To Leopardstar he went on: “Your chosen cats saved us from Sharptooth. Without them, our Tribe would have ceased to be – that is a debt the Tribe of Rushing Water will honor for the rest of our lives.”

“Let’s get them back, Talon,” Cloud insisted. She shouldered her way to her Tribemates, her tail flicking back and forth. “These kits need a proper nest, and one of their softpaws desperately needs to see Stoneteller.”

“You could all use a meal, too, looks like,” Red added, curling his lip as his eyes raked over the Clan cats.

Rowanclaw pulled himself over to Stoneheart’s side as, all around, cats were beginning to stand. The dark ginger tom pressed against Stoneheart. “They’re an interesting bunch,” he decided.

“They are,” Stoneheart agreed. His heart felt light, now – after losing Duskflower, this was just the shot of hope that the Clans needed. “We all thought they were weird at first, too, but their way of doing things is fascinating!”

It didn’t take long for the Clans to get up and moving, though some were definitely stiff, and others were growing icicles on their whiskers. Red and Cloud paced the outskirts of the group, looking for any stragglers and helping those they found to their paws.

“How far?” asked Tinystar. Stoneheart felt the leader’s concern – these cats were cold, and hungry, and desperate for rest. How much further could they really be pushed? A question a leader must consider, Stoneheart thought.

“Not far,” Talon answered. “Not far at all...”