[TB] STARLIGHT -- Chapter 4 (Patreon)

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The patrol fled the kittypet nest with all due haste. There was a brief pause to gather some cobwebs and plaster them on Mistyfoot’s scratches, but otherwise it was very much agreed that no cat wanted to linger around the lone Twoleg nest for long. Even if they had scared off the kittypets, who knew if they had other methods of attack?

They easily crossed a stream that arced its way sharply into the pine forest from the lake, and found that oaks and maples and birches were now starting to take the place of the cedars and pines. Naturally, Nightfrost and Mistyfoot took the lead, the familiar territory type putting a spring in their step.

Crowflight, however, couldn’t help but be cross. More trees! Do they ever end?

At least Stoneheart had the decency to participate just as much as before he’d found his camp – he kept up with the group, chatting to Mistyfoot about this and that, his eyes peeled for anything interesting - unlike Tawnypelt, who just seemed focused on getting the rest of this scouting trip done as soon as possible, with as little effort from her as she could manage.

Crowflight had to keep himself from curling his lip each time the RiverClan deputy looked through the trees and down to the lake. If it were Feathertail or Stormfur, they certainly wouldn’t be acting like RiverClan was the only Clan in the world!

He heard Shadepaw’s voice again: You’re being unfair, she reminded him gently. We’re all looking out for our Clans at heart...

Crowflight suppressed a sigh, knowing that she was probably right – after all, he was just as impatient to finally scout the moorland. The forest just seemed so endless...

As if the trees had heard him, they began to thin out – soon enough, before the cats lay a large, flat clearing. Crowflight tipped his head. The area was too perfectly cleared out to be natural, with only a few trees in what seemed like strategic spots. The grass, too, was cluttered with stones in places, torn up in long, straight lines, too regular to be natural.

“Scrapcans!” Nightfrost breathed sharply. “Look!”

Crowflight followed his gaze and sighed. As Nightfrost had pointed out, the area was dotted with scrapcans – tall, hollow structures where Twolegs put their trash and other waste. These were different-looking than the ones they’d seen in Purdy’s Twolegplace, more run-down and brightly colored, but they stank in just the same way.

Well, that answers that. This is a Twoleg place, too. Crowflight narrowed his eyes. There were no nests, nor were there any monsters, yet the area still bore that faint, acrid scent. What purpose could this place possibly serve a Twoleg, though? Crowflight couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Twolegs hanging out in a big, empty field, not unless it was to use their dogs to corral sheep on the moor. This area wasn’t nearly large enough for that.

“It’s a greenleaf Twolegplace,” Tawnypelt reported, sniffing the air. “The one in the old forest had a fence around it to mark its territory, but this one doesn’t look like it’s the same way.”

“Ugh.” Mistyfoot had taken a moment to check her haunches. The cobwebs had stayed on, and Crowflight thanked StarClan that the wounds didn’t look too bad. The ThunderClan she-cat raised her muzzle. “Does that mean they’ll be here, too?”

Tawnypelt nodded. Her eyes flashed, and she admitted, “I’ve been keeping an eye out around the area as we go – there are a lot of streams and rivers, all of them leading to the lake, and now this place...? I think this lake might be a Twoleg fishing spot.”

The fur between Stoneheart’s shoulders bristled. “So, we’ve led the Clans into more Twoleg trouble?!”

Tawnypelt flicked her dappled tail. “I wouldn’t say that – I don’t think Twolegs will be around here much unless its greenleaf. That’s the time where they bothered us most in the old forest. Any other season and they weren’t around in large numbers – and if it’s this small of a greenleaf Twolegplace for the whole lake...”

“Then it might not be as bad,” Mistyfoot guessed, her tone cautious.

Tawnypelt nodded. “Yes.”

Crowflight hoped she was right. Twolegs were just so disruptive and destructive – he supposed Tawnypelt might know that better than any cat. In the old forest, RiverClan often had to contend with Twolegs messing about in their river, to sometimes fatal results.

“Why would Twolegs want to be here in greenleaf?” Nightfrost wondered. “Shouldn’t they be staying in their nests and fattening up for leafbare? It’s too hot to go elsewhere!”

Tawnypelt shrugged. “Who knows why Twolegs do what they do?” She scanned the area again and said, “That’s all just my theory, anyway. This place looks like it was used at least last greenleaf, so I think we ought to expect them next time around, too. Maybe even in leafbare – some Twolegs like to fish on ice.”

“It might not be so bad,” Mistyfoot reasoned again, getting to her paws. She was clearly trying to see the good in this. “Their scrapcans might attract a lot of fresh-kill.”

“Maybe,” Stoneheart muttered. “Or they’ll infest the forest with racoons...”

Nightfrost nudged him with a paw. “StarClan never said that this place would be a paradise!” he purred.

Crowflight grimaced. “They never said it would be crawling with Twolegs, though,” he pointed out grimly. Their Clanmates had fled the old forest to get away from Twolegs – what if they wanted nothing to do with the lake after hearing about all this? Where else could they possibly go?

Why did StarClan bring us here if there’s just more of the same old annoyances?

Mistyfoot looked up at the sky. The sun was arcing towards sunhigh. She sighed. “We need to keep moving,” she mewed. “There’s still so much to see...”

The rest of the patrol agreed. Nightfrost took the lead this time, and they each trekked across the open clearing towards the safety of the woods. When the branches closed overhead, Crowflight had to admit that he felt safer than he had in that clearing – but it wasn’t because of the trees, it was because he was away from the Twoleg stink.

His relief didn’t last long. Here and there they spotted strange markers on the trees, shiny and brightly-colored and smelling of Twoleg. Accompanying them were thin, winding trails through the forest, which also smelled of Twoleg, though it was extremely faint.

“Twoleg walking trails,” Nightfrost reported, lifting his nose from one of them. “These were in the old forest, too.”

“And in RiverClan territory,” Tawnypelt added. “So, I’m probably right, then. Twolegs will come here in greenleaf, like they did back in the old forest.”

Crowflight glanced at Stoneheart. The other tom was clearly unhappy with that fact, same as Crowflight was. Yet what could they do but adapt? Like Midnight and Nightfrost had said, the Twolegs were just as much part of this world as the Clans were.

Still, Crowflight wondered if there was a single place that Twolegs hadn’t yet touched. As it stood now, it seemed like every Clan was going to have to deal with Twolegs in one form or another.

They passed the trails without much difficulty, heading deeper into the forest with the lakeshore to their side. The trees here were thankfully less dense than the pine woods, making scouting far easier – Crowflight spotted an old Twoleg nest down near the lake shore, and the patrol paused again at his call.

“It doesn’t smell like anyone’s been there for a while,” Mistyfoot admitted, her jaws open to scent the sweeping breeze. With the wind coming up from the lake, it was thankfully easy to get a read on the old nest. “And it doesn’t look well-maintained.”

“A lot of overgrowth,” Nightfrost reported, his tail-tip twitching. “Fragrant, too. Maybe herbs grow there?”

“We’ll have to see.”

Crowflight’s ear twitched, jealousy burning in his belly. It was clear the two ThunderClan cats had definitely picked out this place as their land, and were imagining what to explore first. Crowflight’s paws itched – wasn't it his turn, yet?

They turned away from the abandoned nest and headed upslope. Crowflight felt the earth growing harder beneath his paws and wished again for the softer peat moss of the moorland. Rocks and stones littered spaces between the trees, warm from the sun that streaked through the leafless trees and crawling with the remnants of bracken and brambles and ivies.

At sunhigh they stopped in a small glade and decided to hunt. The forest was teeming with unsuspecting prey, so much that even Crowflight had an easy time plucking a bird from its own foraging. Its warm body filled his mouth with the scent of fresh-kill as he sent his thanks to StarClan and turned himself back towards the glade.

The other cats were settled in and eating already, huddled in the sunshine that lit the frosted grass beneath them with a warm glow. The land in this part of the forest had begun to feel higher, broken and uneven; but this spot was flat and smooth in comparison, with only a few large stones oddly gathered to one side, near the trees.

Crowflight set down his bird. “Where’s Nightfrost?” he wondered.

“I saw him stalking a squirrel, just over that way,” Stoneheart reported, flicking his tail away from the glade. He licked his lips, lifting his muzzle up from his shrew. “He looked like he had it under control.”

Mistyfoot frowned and sat up. Her mouse lay uneaten between her paws. “It shouldn’t take this long to get a squirrel... I’ll go look for him.”

She trotted towards the trees, following Nightfrost’s scent. Crowflight bristled and followed – if they all went into the strange trees one at a time, they might never find one another again, whether they were comfortable in the territory or not!

Stoneheart and Tawnypelt weren’t following. Crowflight kept close to Mistyfoot’s flanks as she headed through the trees, her nose twitching. Nightfrost’s scent was low to the earth, but strong, and, most importantly, not shot with blood or fear. That was a good sign.

“He probably just got side-tracked,” Crowflight offered, glancing at Mistyfoot. “You know him, he’s got fluff for brains.” She was looking very worried.

Crowflight recalled that she had lost her first and only apprentice to a badger, not long before their first journey had begun – it had made her very protective of all the ‘paws that had gone to the lake, chosen or not, in her own Clan or not. Nightfrost being made warrior days ago must have slipped her mind for her anxiety, which Crowflight guessed was peaking.

“Probably,” she agreed, her tone tight. “But let’s not chance it.”

She quickened her pace. Crowflight kept up, but admittedly he was looking more for roots or stones in his path than Nightfrost. He didn’t want to get himself hurt, especially right now.

Nightfrost’s scent eventually grew bright and strong, full of adrenaline – Crowflight guessed from the faint, underlying musk that he had been chasing the squirrel, hoping for the kill. He couldn’t be that far off, now. Together, Crowflight and Mistyfoot followed the trail as it wound and darted through the trees... and then stopped, abruptly.

They were at what appeared to be a cliff’s edge – though that cliff was wildly overgrown, lined thickly with brambles and bushes all up its stony sides. Nightfrost’s scent clearly went over that edge, but there was no sign of him, anywhere.

Crowflight glanced about in confusion – meeting Mistyfoot’s mystified gaze. What had happened?

There was a thrashing, crashing sound from below. Crowflight looked down and found that he could see straight through the brambles and bracken, down to the dirt below – his pelt prickled at the cat-sized hole in the overgrowth.

“He fell!” Crowflight hissed. “The hare-brain! He must not have noticed the drop!”

Mistyfoot, bristling, ordered, “Look for a way out! Quickly!”

Crowflight nodded stiffly and the two cats parted – Mistyfoot headed down the slope, while Crowflight headed up, realizing that the cliff’s edge he was following became incredibly obvious the higher up he went.

He swallowed, nerves firing in his paws as he paused to look down. The staggering distance... Nightfrost would’ve died from this high!

He thanked StarClan that it didn’t seem like Nightfrost had fallen that way. He crested what he guessed was the very peak of the hollow and looked again at what lay below – like the ShadowClan camp, it was full of bushes and overgrowth, but instead of soft slopes, it seemed like something had clawed a hole in a hill, creating sharp, jagged stone walls and sheer cliff edges when it withdrew. It reminded him of the mountains, almost.

Crowflight peered ahead and thought he spotted movement, in a place that looked like a way out. There was a black shape, and a gray one... he breathed a sigh. Mistyfoot had found Nightfrost!

Crowflight picked his way down the opposite edge, stones clattering down into the hollow, and reached them within a few moments.

“... need to see it!” Nightfrost was mewing, his voice high-pitched with excitement. His pelt was covered in dust and he had more than a few branches and stray dead leaves caught in his fur, but his eyes were shining. “It’s perfect!”

Mistyfoot looked worried. “What is?”

“This place!” Nightfrost breathed. His tail whipped back to towards where he’d come from. “I found ThunderClan’s new camp!”

Crowflight paused, flicking an ear. This stone hollow, for ThunderClan? He glanced at Mistyfoot, who looked just as confused. What did she think?

“Show me,” she decided.

Both she and Nightfrost pushed their way through the brambles. Crowflight wanted to follow, but his paws wouldn’t move. He swallowed the bitterness that rose in his throat. Finding their camps was what they came here to do, but if they had found ThunderClan’s, then that meant that WindClan was all that remained.

If I find nothing, I’m a failure.

The bushes rustled, not from within the hollow but from without. Crowflight stood at attention, jaws open to call a warning, only to close them – Stoneheart and Tawnypelt appeared quickly, walking together with confused looks on their faces.

“You were taking a while, so we followed you,” Stoneheart explained.

Tawnypelt’s tail fluffed. “And a good thing we stopped when you did, up there! Is Nightfrost all right?”

“He is,” Crowflight mewed. He nodded into the brambles, and added, “They’re just--”

He was interrupted by Nightfrost shooting out of the brambles, eyes alight with delight. He skidded to a halt before Tawnypelt and Stoneheart and yowled, “I found our camp!”

Stoneheart and Tawnypelt glanced at one another, then to Crowflight, who could only shrug. Then, Mistyfoot appeared, gingerly trying not to scrape her haunches any further on the tangled brambles. Both Tawnypelt and Stoneheart gazed at her, wondering the older ThunderClan cat’s perspective.

“It’s a possibility,” she mewed, when she was free. She shook her pelt of debris. “But it’s a good one! I think Tinystar will like it.”

“It looks dangerous,” Stoneheart intoned. “I saw the cliff...”

“Yeah, that’s what makes it so cool!” Nightfrost mewed, practically jumping on his paws. “With a cliff like that, no cat will want to bother us!”

“A cliff like that can kill you,” Crowflight cautioned. He wanted to cuff Nightfrost across the head – didn't he remember Duskflower, or anything he’d learned in the mountains? It was just as easy to be killed by something that was meant to protect, if you went about it like a fluff-brain!

Nightfrost did pause in his jubilation to consider that. He frowned, and meowed, “We'll figure it out, I’m sure,” he said seriously. “But I really, really think this is it!”

“Congratulations, then,” Tawnypelt purred.

Stoneheart nodded his head. “Indeed.”

Mistyfoot and Nightfrost shared a look, their eyes shining. Crowflight’s pelt shivered – they looked so happy; so pleased that they had found their camp. They all did. He resisted the urge to dig his claws into the earth. It was so unfair that they’d gone the way they had, instead of towards the moor. He hated feeling so left out.

Crowflight frowned. “We should keep going,” he muttered. He could feel the sunlight fading already. “We’re running out of time.”

He didn’t wait to see their reaction before he turned away. Seeing their faces just hurt right now, so he kept his gaze straight ahead.

The others followed quietly. Crowflight could feel their eyes on him, pricking like claws. Did they have to stare? Was he amusing them? Was WindClan being last and possibly not being able to find their own home funny? His thoughts thundered in his mind like bees swarming their hive.

“Hey,” Nightfrost’s mew was quiet, cutting through the noise as the small black tom caught up. He walked at Crowflight’s shoulder, his tail low. “What’s bothering you?”

They walked together, as much as Crowflight didn't want to, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to outpace the ThunderClan cat, not in his own element. Still, that didn’t mean Crowflight had to answer... so he didn’t. His jaw stayed stubbornly shut.

Nightfrost sighed. “Don’t act like that,” he grumbled. “What, after everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to go back to being the nasty old Crowpaw we met at Fourtrees?”

Crowflight bristled at that. “I’m not, I’m just-”

“You are!” Nightfrost hissed. He nudged Crowflight, his ice-blue eyes dark and serious and very unlike him. “You’re going back to that grumpy, mean-spirited cat that had more stubbornness than brains!”

Crowflight bared his teeth. “Why shouldn’t I?” he snapped back. “We’re all going our separate ways, anyway! You’ve all found your camps...” He could see the others out of the corner of his eye, hanging back. Were they listening in? Their gazes were turned away but he knew what they really wanted to be watching...

Nightfrost’s gaze softened. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re scared you won’t find a place for WindClan? That we won’t be friends anymore when the Clans split up?”

Crowflight didn’t respond. He bit his tongue and looked at his paws.

Nightfrost pressed his side against Crowflight’s. “We’ll find WindClan a camp,” he promised. “And we’ll always be friends. You know that, mouse-brain! After everything we’ve gone through together, why wouldn’t we?”

Crowflight sighed.

“Are you okay?” Nightfrost wondered.

Crowflight looked away from him. “I will be,” he muttered.

Nightfrost purred. “Good - now, race you to that break in the trees up ahead?”

Crowflight swallowed. “Of course!” he hissed.

Nightfrost chuckled and took off with a spring, leaping over a root. Crowflight lengthened his stride and followed, keeping pace with the other tom despite the terrain. Behind them, he could hear Mistyfoot protesting, and Tawnypelt groaning.

I lied, Crowflight thought, watching Nightfrost pull ahead. The opening in the trees wasn’t far, and he could hear the sound of splashing in the depths of his ear fur – there must be a good amount of water in that treeless spot.

In ThunderClan, he thought, looking at Nightfrost, you have Mistyfoot and Shadepaw. Stoneheart has Rowanclaw in ShadowClan, and he and Mistyfoot are littermates – they'll always have one another, even if they’re in different Clans. Feathertail has Brook, even, in the Tribe.

Nightfrost skidded to a stop at the bank of a river, his pelt lit by the sun. He looked back at Crowflight and called, his chest puffed out, “I win!”

Crowflight panted, trotting as he slowed down. “Ha... I suppose you did,” he breathed, reaching Nightfrost. He cuffed the tom around the ear. “I’m not used to running through the forest, though!”

Nightfrost rolled his eyes and bent down to drink from the water. Crowflight did the same, but it tasted plain on his tongue, and his throat tightened as he glanced sidelong at Nightfrost.

When we part, we might be friends, sure, but you won’t be alone. You've always had cats you were close to...

Who will I have?