[TB] DAWN -- Chapter 28 (Patreon)

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Stoneheart woke to pale light stretching across the cave floor. He blinked sleep from his eyes, feeling energy suddenly shoot through his muscles – had the snow finally stopped outside? A quick glance around his den told him that the other Clans were awake, and as he peered towards the back of the cave he saw a crowd of cats gathered there.

His pelt prickled. I overslept! Why hadn’t Rowanclaw woken him up? Stoneheart shook a feather from his flank and hopped out of the to-be den, his tail-tip flicking as he trotted over to the crowd. There were too many cats to hope to get too near the center, so he stayed by the edges, presumably with other cats that had overslept.

Mudclaw, Blackfoot, and Tawnypelt were at the center of the crowd, with Snowfoot of ThunderClan and Crag, one of the Tribe’s senior cave-guards.

“The blizzard is clear,” Crag was saying. “Our prey-hunters will take this opportunity to hunt.”

“Our warriors will join you,” Blackfoot rumbled. “Like Tinystar said last night, we won’t force your Tribe to be responsible for so many of us.”

Crag looked skeptical.

Snowfoot signed, “I think you’ll find we’re quick to adapt.”

Stoneheart tipped his head, surprised when Crag nodded at the deaf warrior. I had no idea the Tribe knew pawspeak, he thought. He considered their hunting style of patience and silence and quickly realized why they might’ve developed such a language. The same reason ShadowClan did.

“Very well,” Crag agreed. “Your cats may join with ours.”

“Crag,” Mistyfoot’s voice came through the crowd, “perhaps putting one of us chosen cats onto each patrol would help. We’ve hunted with you before, so it’ll make it easier to explain to our Clanmates how you do things.”

Crag didn’t need much convincing. He nodded his broad head. “Agreed.”

With so many cats, it seemed to take an age before patrols were sorted. Stoneheart found himself with Sun, Sorreltail, Rowanclaw, Heronleap, Softbreeze, and Wing – a large patrol, considering how the Tribe usually operated, but with so many mouths to feed there wasn’t much choice.

Mistyfoot was with Cloud. “We’ll check the path down the mountain,” the stocky black she-cat told Crag. “Hopefully our findings are favorable.”

“Getting tired of us already?” Crowpaw wondered, flicking his tail at the cave-guard.

Cloud’s whiskers twitched. “We are happy to have you, but your home is not here,” she said simply.

True enough, Stoneheart agreed inwardly, watching the black she-cat lead her patrol out of the cavern.

Sun stretched and then curled her tail over her back. “Come on, then!” she purred. “Let’s be off! The birds don’t catch themselves!”

The ginger she-cat led the way out of the crowd. Stoneheart stepped in at her side, with Rowanclaw just behind with the others. Wing took up the rear, the young she-cat's Tribe-short tail held high and her eyes flashing.

They emerged from the cave and carefully picked their way down the Path of Rushing Water, which was slick with new frost. Sorreltail nearly slipped and fell, but Sun caught her by the scruff and placed her right. The others made it down without incident.

The rocky clearing around the churning pool was filled with snow, unbroken but for the new paths cut by Tribe patrols. Stoneheart sunk in up to his belly, and shivered. The warmth of the cave seemed so far away already.

“So... how does the Tribe hunt up here?” Sorreltail wondered. “It’s so cold and...”

“Open?” Stoneheart guessed.

Sorreltail nodded, her eyes glittering with confusion. A quick glance at the rest of the Clan cats in his patrol and Stoneheart knew they were all feeling the same.

“It’s not so hard,” Stoneheart explained. “We hunt more actively and aggressively, but the Tribe takes things more slowly, and with patience.”

“There is reward in stillness,” Wing advised, trudging through the snow drifts.

Sun lifted her tail. “‘Mouths are fed with silence,’ is one of the first things a softpaw learns! Come, we’ll show you!”

She and Wing led the way opposite the first patrol, down a narrow chasm that snaked back towards Claw Tree, where the Clans had attempted the shelter the night before. Instead of making directly for Claw Tree, however, they took another path, trudging confidently through the snow.

Stoneheart flicked an ear. He didn’t know Tribe territory as well as the others had – his time with the Tribe had been spent mostly in the to-be den, suffering his injured shoulder. He glanced back at the others, who were staring at this forbidding territory with wide eyes. I’ll teach them all I know, regardless.

As they traveled upslope, Stoneheart wondered if this is what it would feel like to be a mentor. He was running through Tribe strategies that he knew in his mind, trying to think of how best to teach them to cats from so many different Clans. Would these warriors be offended by his teaching them? Rowanclaw and Sorreltail were young, but Softbreeze was older and Heronleap was a senior warrior of RiverClan. Would they be annoyed by him?

When Wing and Sun stopped, the air felt a little thinner than it had when they’d started, and sunhigh had passed. Before them stretched a steep hillside of hard-packed dirt and stone, streaked with snow and dotted with scraggly shrubbery. Stoneheart counted only three trees managing to cling to the side of the slope, their leafless branches stretching high towards the clouds and their trunks bent by the strong winds.

“We’re meant to hunt here?” Softbreeze grumbled. “How?”

“Like I said,” Stoneheart soothed, “patience. Watch what Wing does.”

He nodded to the gray-and-white she-cat, who was rolling her shoulders into the dirt. Stoneheart gestured to the prey-hunter and advised, “Tribe cats roll in dirt and mud to disguise their coloring. Prey has a hard time telling the difference.”

“It suppresses our scent, too,” Wing added, shaking off excess dirt.

“So... we’re meant to roll in mud?” Heronleap looked offended by the notion. Stoneheart wasn’t surprised – the older warrior was RiverClan, a Clan that prided themselves on their appearances. Feathertail didn’t have a problem with it!

Instead of being so scathing, he nodded, and the approached the dirt himself. He rolled himself in it like Wing had, feeling the cold earth seep between his shoulders and cling to his pelt.

“Having fun?” Rowanclaw wondered, looking down at Stoneheart.

Purring, Stoneheart reached up with his forelegs and wrapped them around Rowanclaw’s neck. In a gentle motion, Stoneheart had Rowanclaw in the dirt with him.

“Make sure to cover your back well!” he chuckled. “Ginger pelts stick out in the mountains!”

“You little frog!” Rowanclaw chided, his eyes glittering with love.

Sorreltail mrrowed with amusement. “Do you have to roll in mud too, Sun?”

Sun nodded. “A cave-guard watches the skies, but we don’t want to be seen doing it. After you!”

While the two she-cats rolled in the dirt, Stoneheart helped Rowanclaw to his paws. He paced around his mate, checking the coverage on his dark ginger coat, and decided, “Good job! Now we can get to it.”

Wing rolled her eyes a tail-length away. “I’ll be surprised if your silliness didn’t scare away the prey!”

“Just show us what to do,” Rowanclaw meowed firmly. Sorreltail and Sun were getting out of the dirt, purring and checking one another over, while Softbreeze and Heronleap took their turn, though Heronleap looked as reluctant as an apprentice on tick duty.

Wing nodded to Stoneheart, and together they took up a position behind the nearest bush. They hunkered down, shoulder to shoulder, their tails still above the earth. There was naught but the sound of their breathing – when Softbreeze asked what they were doing, Sun hushed her quickly.

Stoneheart spotted the bird – a sparrow with reddish-colored plumage. Recalling his own training, he tapped his tail against Wing’s. He felt her haunches bunch in response.

The sparrow hopped across the barren earth, picking at the dirt for anything that it might find edible. Closer and closer it moved, seemingly unaware of the predators awaiting it. Closer... Stoneheart thought, feeling Wing readying herself. Closer...

Wing moved like a snake, quick and sudden, stretching her body out of the bush just enough to bring in the bird and then kill it before it made a sound.

“Good job,” Stoneheart praised, heart pounding in his ears. Turning to the others, he meowed, “See how it’s done? It’s sim-”

A rustle in a nearby bush caught his ear. Sorreltail sprang before any other cat, landing on the squirrel before it could make for the safety of a tree. The ThunderClan she-cat's eyes were wide with surprise as she lifted her catch.

“Amazing!” Sun purred, her eyes glittering.

Wing drew herself up, eyes round with shock. “How did you find it?”

Sorreltail put down the squirrel, looking puzzled. “I... I’m not sure, really. But it’s so quiet up here... Where I’m from, there are so many trees and other noises – but here, I could hear it eating a nut so loudly.”

Stoneheart felt a flash of pride for the young warrior. “It was a great catch, Sorreltail,” he mewed.

“It really was!” Sun agreed. “Did you hear that, Wing? So many trees, their noise makes it hard to hunt! Can you imagine?”

Wing rolled her eyes. “All I can imagine is Crag and Talon having our tails for not bringing back enough prey...”

“Then let’s focus,” Stoneheart meowed firmly, looking to Rowanclaw, Softbreeze, and Heronleap. The three warriors looked far more excited now, having seen what needed to be done. He could tell they were eager to impress, and Stoneheart gestured at the slope with his tail. “Come on, your turn now...”

———————————————————

The sun had set by the time their patrol returned, but they had returned a success. Stoneheart was surprised at how much prey lay in the mountains, even in frozen-water. He carried a thrush and songbird in his jaws, their flavors making his mouth water. The others were just as laden with prey, and as they carefully picked their way up the Path of Rushing Water and into the cavern, it was clear the other patrols had had similar success.

The Tribe’s fresh-kill pile was near to toppling as Stoneheart set down his birds. Rowanclaw laid down his rabbit, caught before it could escape down the steep slope – a surprising catch, to both Softbreeze and Wing. Though it had scraped Rowanclaw’s pads raw to catch, he was very proud of it, and Stoneheart was very proud of him.

As the others deposited their prey, Stoneheart looked around. The cave was cluttered with cats, Tribe and Clan mingling and filling the place floor to ceiling with chatter. A successful hunt had clearly done wonders to cut the initial awkwardness between the two groups.

While Sorreltail and Sun took off to chat, and Softbreeze and Heronleap went their separate ways, Stoneheart led Rowanclaw to sit with his friends. They were beside the softpaw den, chatting to one another about the day.

“... The pass is still closed with snow, but otherwise it went well!” Mistyfoot meowed. “Our patrol caught a load of prey. I don’t think Cloud expected it at all!”

Brook, who was pressed against Feathertail, twitched her whiskers. “Cloud can be very hard to please,” she reasoned, her pale eyes sparkling. “I think you did well, Mistyfoot!”

“Our patrol went well, too,” Stoneheart reported, sitting beside his sister. Rowanclaw settled down on his belly, setting to licking his sore pads. Stoneheart put a paw along his mate’s shoulder. “The stone was rough, though.”

“Mine was fine,” Crowpaw said.

“Fine?” Nightpaw’s eyes went wide, two patches of clear newleaf sky in the darkness. “Crowpaw, you practically led it! Red couldn’t even be upset with you!”

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur fluffed. “Yes, well...”

“I think that’s amazing,” Shadepaw agreed, nudging Crowpaw with her muzzle. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Stop it!” Crowpaw hissed. His tone was sharp, but his eyes were soft on Shadepaw. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Stoneheart couldn’t help but purr in amusement and, with a glance at Mistyfoot and Feathertail, he found he wasn’t the only one warmed by Crowpaw’s consternation.

“And you, Feathertail?” Stoneheart wondered, directing attention away from Crowpaw. “How was your patrol?”

Feathertail blinked. “We didn’t patrol today,” she explained. “We... We took Graystripe and Silverstream to see Stormfur.”

Oh. A somber mood engulfed the chosen cats, and they hung their heads in silence for a moment. Bright moonlight was streaming in through the waterfall now, and Stoneheart guessed the stars were out. Was StarClan, and Stormfur, with them? Had Stormfur been with the Tribe of Endless Hunting this whole time?

“We told them what happened,” Feathertail went on, her voice quiet. “I’ve never seen Graystripe so upset. We lost our sibling, Icekit, when we were born, so I never really knew how they felt about it...”

Brook leaned into Feathertail, resting a paw atop hers. “He walks the stars, now,” she breathed. “And we honor him.”

“Cats of Clan and Tribe, hear me!”

It was Stoneteller’s voice that cut through the din of chattering cats. Silence soon reigned, with all eyes turning to the back of the cave, where the rickety old tom stood with Snow at his side. Tinystar, Tallstar, Leopardstar, and Russetstar were fanned out on either side of the Tribe’s leadership, looking out at their Clans together.

“Tonight, the moon is full, and shines its brightest,” Stoneteller meowed. “Here, in the mountains, the stars are close to us, and in these times, the voices of our ancestors speak the clearest. In the light of the full moon, reflection is key.”

Snow spoke, then, her voice crystal clear in the cave: “One moon ago, the mountains were rid of the monster Sharptooth – but before it died, it took with its teeth and claws many of our kith and kin. Tonight, those they left behind honor them: Pale, my sister, mother of Sun; Spray, sister to Bird; Boulder, mate to Night and father of Hawk, Ice, and Swoop; Sheer, father of Flight; and Swift, kit of Cold and mother to Wing. We look to them in the stars, and we remember...”

“We remember...” The Tribe cats echoed.

Stoneheart swallowed. We remember. He shared a glance with the others. Rowanclaw hadn’t been there, but the rest had – most of those cats named had died that stormy night in this very cave, in their frantic battle to scare Sharptooth away forever.

“Finally,” Stoneteller rasped, “we honor Stormfur. From the forest he came, a cat watched over by other stars. He gave his life to save our Tribe, and we will never forget him.”

“We will never forget.” The echoes bounced solemnly across the walls.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then, Snow raised her voice: “We feast in their honor!” she declared. “Crag, Talon!”

The two cave-guards stood and headed for the fresh-kill pile. Immediately they began passing prey from cat to cat, splitting some apart to ensure each cat had a share. They worked together well, their eyes flashing to one another with pride in their task.

Snow went on as they worked: “We celebrate our lost Tribemate’s lives tonight, in the light of the full moon, and we celebrate our new friends in the Clans, who journey long and hard to find their home. Tonight, we dine together, Tribe and Clan, Tribe of Endless Hunting and StarClan. Tonight, we are one!”

“Tonight, we are one!”

Stoneheart felt his heart lift as a haunch of rabbit was passed his way. It seemed as if they were the last to receive their meal, as once they had each been served the cats began to tuck in. All around, Stoneheart could see Tribe cats instructing Clan cats in how the Tribe shared – one bite, then passing their prey to a neighbor.

In their tradition, Stoneheart tore away a hunk of his rabbit and then swapped it with Rowanclaw. He tucked into his mate’s squirrel, leaning against him. Conversation echoed all around as Tribe and Clan shared tongues, laughter and booming yowls punctuating stories of the lost told in remembrance. Kits romped in between the eating cats, stepping on tails and playing hide-and-seek, Night’s kits showing the Clan kits the best spots to perch on the stone walls for pouncing – a game which ended when Larchkit landed on Dustpelt and made the tom screech in shock.

It was a warm, happy moment – it made Stoneheart feel soft and relaxed, after a season of journeying and hardship and sorrow. He could have fallen asleep like this, too, had more voices not called for attention:

“Cats of Clan and Tribe, hear us!”

The strength of Tallstar’s voice was a shock that made ears prick and heads turn up from their meals. The black and white WindClan leader stood at the back of the cave, with Tinystar by his side. Tallstar’s pale gaze leveled on each cat.

“This is such a momentous occasion,” the old WindClan leader rasped. “Never in my long life did I think that we would leave the forest, and never in my long life did I think we would meet such a kind group, cats like us but of different minds. I did not think I would live to see the four Clans come together in any kind of peace or kinship, but look, now... it has happened twice!”

A ripple of agreement spread through the crowd.

“We have all been through so much together,” Tallstar meowed on. His gaze glittered with memories. “I hope this is something we never forget. Our Great Journey is nearly done, and we cannot forget how we came to be here in the first place...”

He raised his chin. “A prophecy, given to cats from not one, but all four Clans. A prophecy meant to bring us together, for our survival. Without those chosen cats, we would not be here. Without those chosen cats...”

Tallstar broke off, wheezing. Stoneheart felt a prickle of fear. Could these be Tallstar’s last words? Tinystar bolstered the old WindClan tom with words whispered into his ear. Tallstar nodded, and smiled down at the smaller ThunderClan cat.

“Tinystar and I have asked Stoneteller if we may bring a Clan tradition into his cave,” Tallstar rasped on. “He agreed.”

“Crowpaw, Nightpaw, come forward,” Tinystar announced. His ice-blue eyes raked the crowd in the darkness, until they rested on the two cats he had called for.

What?! Stoneheart’s heart beat in his ears. He swung his gaze over to the two apprentices, who had been grooming one another’s ears during the conversation. Now they were staring, wide-eyed and shocked, at their leaders, Nightpaw’s tongue just peeking out from his muzzle.

“Come on, now,” Tinystar urged, flicking his tail. “Come.”

Reluctantly, the two toms rose. Together, dark pelts brushing, they moved through the massive group. The cats parted around them as murmurs of confusion echoed throughout the cave, the words drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Crowpaw and Nightpaw stopped before Tallstar and Tinystar, their backs to the crowd.

“Crowpaw,” Tallstar began, “your life has been one of hardship. Your father, Deadfoot, my closest friend, died before you were born, and your littermates died as well, before their apprentice names could be spoken.” Tallstar’s eyes glittered with sorrow. “You were a troublesome, temperamental kit, and I worried you would grow to be as hard as a leaf-bare wind on the moor...”

“Nightpaw,” Tinystar meowed, “you are my son. Being the kit of a Clan leader can be a daunting thing, and some might say you took advantage of it...” Ripples of amusement rose from the ThunderClan cats. “But I gave you a stern mentor, and StarClan saw fit to put you on the path to the lake, even if they had not explicitly chosen you...”

Tallstar went next: “In being chosen by StarClan, Crowpaw, and placed on this journey, you have grown.”

Tinystar, then: “Nightpaw, you came back from that journey a changed cat. No longer a young apprentice, green behind his ears, but...”

Together, they declared, “A warrior.”

A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd. Stoneheart glanced at the others, and found their eyes sparkling. A warrior ceremony? Shadepaw stretched up on her hind paws to see, her whiskers twitching.

Crowpaw and Nightpaw stiffened. Both had suddenly realized what this was, and they looked at one another with wide, eager eyes.

Stoneheart’s heart thudded in his ears. Was this the first time in Clan history apprentices of two different Clans were being made warriors together? Every cat seemed to feel the weight of it, like a whisker shed from one’s muzzle might shatter the air into tiny little pieces.

“Nightpaw, do you promise to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?” Tinystar asked.

“Crowpaw, do you promise to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?” Tallstar repeated.

“I do,” Crowpaw said.

“I do,” Nightpaw echoed.

Tallstar’s eyes were kind. “In you, we see the future,” he said. “Crowpaw, WindClan honors your courage and your growth, and I name you Crowflight.”

He bent to touch Crowflight’s shoulder with his nose, and Crowflight licked his leader’s shoulder. Stoneheart guessed he murmured a thank-you, but he couldn’t hear it over the crashing waterfall.

“ThunderClan honors your determination and honesty, Nightpaw,” Tinystar meowed, touching his nose to Nightpaw’s forehead. “My dear son, I name you Nightfrost.”

“Crowflight and Nightfrost!” Shadepaw trilled, her voice a whisper. “Oh, wow!”

Nightfrost nudged Crowflight with a paw, his eyes bright. “Cool names!” the small tom squeaked eagerly. “Cool names!!” Crowflight nudged back, his tail bristling with embarrassment though his eyes shone just as warmly on Nightfrost.

“Crowflight! Nightfrost! Crowflight! Nightfrost!”

The cavern shook with the cheers of Tribe and Clan alike. The two new warriors turned to face their Clanmates, shoulder to shoulder, eyes wide as cats from all four Clans cheered their names – but no cats yowled louder than the chosen cats by the softpaw den.

Stoneheart caterwauled until his throat felt sore, pride and love welling up inside of him as he looked at the two new warriors. He felt as if he had helped them to this point, guided them like a mentor would an apprentice, or a brother another.

“They look so mature, now,” Rowanclaw sighed.

Stoneheart swallowed around emotions that choked his throat. “I know, right?” he rasped.

Rowanclaw nudged Stoneheart. “Probably because they had such good friends looking out for them, hm?”

Stoneheart watched the Clans cluster around Crowflight and Nightfrost, each and every cat offering their congratulations, regardless of Clan. The early days of the first journey, where the two had been at one another’s throats, felt so far away – now they were warriors together, as if they were of the same litter.

Tinystar's expression was difficult to see in the darkness, but Stoneheart detected something somber about it. Was he thinking of Sandstorm, who hadn’t been there to see her son become a warrior? Beside him, was Tallstar thinking of his lost friend Deadfoot the same way?

“Walk into the future, young ones,” Tallstar declared, as the cheering calmed down. His eyes were tired; dim, but so very happy. “Do it together.”