[TB] STARLIGHT -- Chapter 9 (Patreon)

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Night was enveloping the land as Crowflight finally led his Clanmates home.

ThunderClan was long gone, probably having crossed the river into their own territory by now. Crowflight tried to ignore the lonely ache in his belly as he wove his Clanmates around the hills that sheltered their new home. After being surrounded by so many cats for so long, it felt strange being among just WindClan’s own sparse numbers.

Crowflight breathed in his lingering scent trail from the night before. Without it, he wagered he might not have been able to find the rowan tree or these particular hills, so hidden they were among everything else in the darkness shrouding this unfamiliar land. He couldn’t help but lift his chin with pride at that idea – this place would certainly be difficult for any enemy to find!

His paws shuffled quietly through the tall grass, his tail up as a beacon to his Clanmates. A glance back told him that they sensed they were nearing the end, the real end, their eyes bright and bodies quivering with excitement. As he wound his way around one of the camp’s protective hills, Crowflight felt their eagerness tickling his pelt.

On the other side of the hill, the rowan tree’s leafless branches stretched up to the cold night sky, grasping at the stars with spindly black fingers. Crowflight paused, suddenly nervous – he’d only been able to talk about this place. Now it was right before them, real and true, and they could hate it.

“Is this it?” asked Onewhisker, padding up to his side.

Crowflight nodded. “There’s a path just there,” he explained, nodding towards the gap in the gorse that led between the hills. “Then the camp.”

Onewhisker’s tail touched his shoulder. “I’ll take it from here,” he said. The brown tabby tom padded ahead, his tail-tip beckoning for the others to follow – which they did, tittering with excitement.

Crowflight stared after Onewhisker, shocked. But I thought I could... Crowflight bit the thought off at the tail. Onewhisker was leader of WindClan now, and it made sense that he be the one to take the first step into their new camp. It would give everyone else confidence, in the camp and in him – something he needed far more than Crowflight did.

Crowflight joined his Clanmates at the back, still fighting to keep his tail from drooping. Was that really it? Was his job as a chosen cat done so unceremoniously? He broke through the gorse hedge with the help of Duskwhisker and emerged into the camp.

In the dark, the camp likely didn’t look like much but a little valley of bushes and stones. Crowflight watched his Clanmates spread out, sniffing and examining the area. Nerves spiked at his pelt – what would they say? The wind whistled above, cut by the high hilltops, rattling the branches of the rowan tree.

“Look at it!” gasped Poppyfoot. Her eyes shone in the dark. “So much space!”

“And so sheltered,” agreed Robinwing, nodding her head. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what it looks like in the daylight!”

Tornear lifted his head from a pricker bush. “It’ll be a lot of work,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “It’s a mess right now.”

Crowflight frowned. This wasn’t quite the reaction he’d been hoping for.

Barkface trundled up to Tornear and pulled a pricker from his nose. “It’s work we will do together,” he rasped as he spat the pricker from his mouth. “As we have always done.”

“I don’t know,” Bramblefur fretted. She glanced around, her gaze shimmering with emotion. “It feels so different from the camp in the old forest...”

“This isn’t the old forest,” Mudclaw growled. “You need to get used to that.” The Clan’s eyes turned to him with surprise, as he had been silent for the entire journey here. He was a dark shadow in the overgrowth, his shoulders squared and his eyes two bright blazes as he glowered at his Clanmates.

Bramblefur’s tail trembled. “B-But look at this place!” she huffed. “It’s overgrown, there’s hardly a space to sleep or put one’s paws...”

“I certainly wasn’t expecting so many bushes,” Emberstep agreed. She pushed at one with a distasteful look in her eye. “What are we, ThunderClan? We’ll wake up as hedgehogs!”

Mudclaw’s torn ear twitched, and he glared at both she-cats. “Did you expect StarClan to have descended from the stars and made you a nest? Built your dens? If you’ve a better spot in mind, let’s hear it.”

Bramblefur bit her tongue. Emberstep did not meet Mudclaw’s eye. The other warriors muttered among themselves, and Crowflight swallowed, feeling something heavy sink into his gut. They hate it. Bramblefur’s words might’ve been sharply and simply refuted, but they still stung.

He glanced at Onewhisker, hoping for something positive. The lean tabby was talking to Ashfoot, only noticing Mudclaw when Ashfoot specifically turned his head to look at the former deputy with one of her paws. Onewhisker gave a startled jump and trotted into the center of the camp.

“Cats of WindClan,” he called, his voice wavering only slightly, “we’ve made it to our new home, after long moons of strife and journey. Tonight, we rest – tomorrow, we build our future!”

Crowflight wondered if Onewhisker had actually heard or understood any of the disagreement, but he gave no sign as he turned back to Ashfoot and began to talk again. That left the warriors and apprentices of WindClan to find their own places to sleep among the gorse and prickers.

Barkface and Ryewhisper split up, finding suitable spots for their Clanmates. Crowflight joined them, feeling like ants were crawling in his pelt. It will look better in the morning, he wanted to yowl. You’ll see!

He sniffed at the edges of the hills and directed Smokewillow and Robinwing to a sheltered area, where they curled up tightly together. Barkface found Bramblefur, Poppyfoot, and Emberstep a clear space, while Ryewhisper had the apprentices crawling under a low-hanging bush, quelling Thistlepaw’s worries about spiders.

Crowflight pulled away from Smokewillow and Robinwing. The other cats were now finding their own spots, huddling in odd positions between bushes and stones. Tallstar’s body was laid upon one of the flatter stones near the back of the camp, his pelt turned silver by the moonlight. Was he watching them now? Did he like the camp that Crowflight had found?

We’ll need to find a new burial ground as well, Crowflight thought uneasily. It was a necessity, to be sure, but the idea of burying anyone was an uncomfortable one.

Crowflight spotted Barkface sniffing beneath one of the boulders, then entering the dark cavern within, only to emerge and call to Ryewhisper. The two medicine cats slipped into the darkness, their voices sounding excited.

Soon enough each cat had a place to rest, even if it seemed a little cramped. Crowflight sighed. Sleeping among the stars was something WindClan did on all but the most dangerous nights, but it was nowhere near so awkward as this. He supposed that all the Clans must be doing something similar – there was a lot of work to be done all around the lake to adapt each camp to their Clan’s needs.

Crowflight was still restless, though. He picked his way to the outskirts of the camp, pushing between a pair of gorse bushes until he was out in the open moor again. He didn’t know what to do with himself – he ought to be exhausted, but he wasn’t sure he could sleep, not with all his Clanmate’s criticisms spinning in his mind.

He missed the others, so much. He missed Stoneheart keeping watch, and how Mistyfoot would curl her tail up all the way up to her nose. He missed Feathertail and Stormfur’s warmth, and he missed the way Nightfrost would somehow always end up sticking a hind paw under Crowflight’s chin.

He missed Shadepaw, always pressed against him, her tail always curled around his body. He missed her scent, he missed all their scents, all their voices and jokes and mannerisms... He missed it all so much already that his heart felt like it was about to break in two.

How could he go on without them, these cats who had understood him, who appreciated him; not just for one night, but for every night ahead?

Crowflight trotted up the steepest hill, the one that broke away to boulders below and supported the rowan tree. At its peak, he stopped, looking down at the camp, at his Clanmates. The cats he had done all of this for – the ones he had led here, the ones he had to look after now as if none of the journeying had happened, none of which knew him as a friend? None of which seemed at all grateful for the home he’d worked so hard to find?

He counted each cat dotted among the gorse and prickers, the knowledge of their whereabouts comforting his mind, just a little. Regardless of what they thought, they were all here, and they were all alive. That had to count for something.

He laid on his belly, finally feeling drowsy...

… and then a paw nudged his shoulder.

Crowflight lifted his muzzle. It was Mudclaw. His former mentor sat down beside him, staring down into the camp. Crowflight tensed – what did Mudclaw want with him? Even if he was isolating himself from the others, why wasn’t he asleep?

“You did well,” he rasped. “I knew you would. The others will see it, soon enough. You aren’t done being WindClan’s chosen cat yet.”

Crowflight wasn’t sure what to say. This is the first time you’ve thought I’ve done anything well.

Mudclaw didn’t seem to need a response, or care for one. The dark tabby got to his paws and padded away. Crowflight watched him slink down the opposite side of the hill, watched him trot up the massive boulder that pointed towards the lake. Mudclaw laid down there, a dark spot on the stone, and did not move.

Crowflight looked away, feeling like he was intruding on this old cat’s way of grieving his shattered pride. He rested his chin on his paws and sighed, closing his eyes, trying not to dream of his friends...

———————————————————

Instead, he dreamed he was a kit.

He was in the darkness of the nursery, in his nest of bracken and feathers and sheep’s wool. He could vaguely feel his mother’s body, warm and close, her tail resting along the edge of the nest like a barrier. There were others, too – so many cats, all of them looking down at him, though none of them he knew.

“Look at him,” cooed one of the older cats. “He looks just like Deadfoot!”

I don’t know who that is, he wanted to say. Crowkit stared up at the older cats, their faces muddy and their pelts blurs. Their gazes stared right past him, as if he were made of mist. Why do they look at me like that?

Why do they look at me like I’m someone else?

“He’ll be a great warrior, just like his father.”

What if I’m not?

“He could be deputy, like his father!”

What if I don’t want to be?

“He could be the Clan leader – it's in his blood!”

“He’s so handsome, look at how he’s grown!”

“No longer a sickly kit!”

“The pride of WindClan!”

“His father is in his eyes!”

Crowkit wiggled and struggled under their voices, each one like a paw on him, pressing him down into the earth. He fought and struggled and bore his claws at them until they recoiled in surprise – how could this tiny kit, so full of their expectations and hopes, do such a thing?

He saw his opening and fled, leaping his mother’s tail and exploding out of the nursery and into the wind. The old camp passed by him in a flash, the moorland passing rapidly beneath his paws until he hit greenery the likes of which he’d never seen before.

Crowkit slowed his steps. He had never left WindClan camp before but he knew this place from stories – a place where four great oaks grew, where the four Clans met every full moon in peace. He could smell the scents of all four Clans, all of them surrounding the Great Rock, from the top of which the leaders discussed Clan news.

He approached the Great Rock. It was so tall, bigger than anything he had ever seen, reaching up into the hazy, dreamy sky. Crowkit sank his claws into the stone and struggled, crawling up the bumpy, imperfect surface, his tail stuck out to keep his balance, as if balance mattered in a dream.

Crowkit reached the top, and to the edge there he clung, panting, shivering from his ears to his tail-tip. He felt like if he leapt, he would fly, like a buzzard over the moorland. Up here, so high, so far from the moorland, from the nursery, from the others... it was quiet, and Crowkit felt light as a feather.

He looked down, then, and saw that the world below him had changed.

He was now older, but still clinging to the rock like a kit. It was no longer the Great Rock, but the boulder that looked out to the lake. Behind him the rowan tree rattled ominously in the howling wind, its red blossoms burning points of color in the washed-out hues of yellow and green.

Below were his Clanmates, all shouting and clamoring, glaring at one another as if they were enemies. Mudclaw was to one side, Onewhisker to the other. They both seemed larger than life, the cats on their respective sides like slim shadows. Their yowling and screeching grew louder and louder and louder, and Crowflight’s ears rang with the sounds of anger and hatred.

Then, Onewhisker and Mudclaw’s eyes turned to him, up on the stone, clinging for his life in the howling gale.

“What will you do?” asked Mudclaw, his voice like claws tearing through flesh. “Are you the warrior I trained you to be?”

Before Crowflight could answer, the ground split between Onewhisker and Mudclaw, and the darkness that shot up from the gap engulfed everyone, and everything, in it.

———————————————————

When he woke, the camp below was already bustling with activity.

Crowflight yawned, getting to his paws. His head felt foggy, and when he tried to reach for his dream he could only sense darkness and howling winds, like the cold air that sliced through his fur. He shivered, his thin legs knocking together to shake off the night’s frost.

He glanced back at the tall boulder and saw that Mudclaw was gone. Crowflight pelt prickled, trying to keep him warm. We're both rabbit-brains, he thought. No WindClan cat with any sense sleeps out on the open moor in leafbare!

Crowflight focused instead on the camp down the hill, and he marveled – he'd only seen this hill-locked valley in the dusk or at night, and in the daylight it looked far, far better. The slope below gave way to the rocks that Barkface and Ryewhisper had slept within, the sharp angles of earth creating an amazing wind buffer for the rest of the camp. Bushes already lined most of the shallow valley, gorse and prickers and bracken growing in sheltered clumps beside little rowan sprouts.

Several cats were digging up those sprouts already, tugging at the growths with their teeth and claws and yanking them from the earth before they grew too big. Others were doing the same to the excess bushes, and Crowflight saw some other cats near the edges of the hollow with Ashfoot, deciding which of them would make good dens for inclement weather.

Crowflight’s heart beat in his ears. It looked a mess now, for sure, but from up here he could see what it could be, what it would be. He could imagine the flow of movement in the camp, see kittens playing in the clearing while hunters returned with their kill, or patrols left to protect their territory. There was already a spot cleared out at the very edge, across from Crowflight’s hill – the entrance where he and the Clan had come through the night before was now opened up and wider, so cats could easily pass through. The sight filled him with hope.

“Crowflight, there you are!”

Onewhisker’s yowl came from below. The lean brown tom was amid the bushes and deconstruction, and a bit of bracken was caught in his fur. At the flick of his leader’s tail, Crowflight slid his way down the slope, catching himself on the boulders - taking care not to disturb Tallstar’s body where it lay - before leaping down into camp with ease.

“What is it?” he asked, trotting up to Onewhisker. Down here the wind wasn’t nearly so cutting, the air still and pleasant, and, most importantly, warmer.

“I was wondering if you might want to lead a patrol,” Onewhisker mewed.

Crowflight’s eyes widened. “Me?” he repeated. Young warriors hardly got the chance to lead a patrol, especially so soon after their naming ceremony.

Onewhisker nodded. “I want you to take some warriors and explore the territory. You’re already familiar with the moorland, at least a little bit. We need our boundaries mapped and explored as soon as possible.”

Crowflight’s whiskers quivered. Perhaps he really wasn’t done being a chosen cat after all! “Of course!” he agreed.

“Take whomever you like,” Onewhisker told him, “and good luck! I can’t wait to hear your report.”

Crowflight couldn’t help but shiver with excitement. He looked around, wondering which cats he should take with him – they were all busy in one way or another, but some looked more bored than others...

“Duskwhisker, Poppyfoot!” he called. The two she-cats lifted their heads, eyes turning to him curiously. He meowed, “We’re exploring the territory!”

“Wait,” snapped Mudclaw. The dark brown tabby emerged from some gorse, looking annoyed. He shook out his pelt and stalked forward, planting himself before Onewhisker and Crowflight. To Crowflight, he meowed, “Take a senior warrior with you.”

Crowflight flicked an ear. He supposed that was good enough advice – the warriors he’d chosen were on the younger side. “Webfoot, want to come?” he called.

The older tom raised his muzzle from the bracken he was tearing apart. “Can I bring Weaselpaw? He’s been badgering me non-stop about seeing the territory...”

Crowflight frowned. That’d make the patrol very large, for one that was meant to explore. But what was he supposed to do, when the others he’d chosen seemed so excited?

“It would be good for Weaselpaw to go, but leave behind Poppyfoot in exchange,” Mudclaw advised. “She’s good with her paws and building up walls.”

Onewhisker bristled. “Walls? We’re only clearing out the camp right now, Mudclaw,” he insisted. “And who are you to issue orders?”

“I-I can stay...” Poppyfoot mewed, flicking an ear awkwardly. By now, she and Duskwhisker had dropped their duties and approached, along with Webfoot and his apprentice, Weaselpaw. The young cat did indeed look very excited and hopeful.

“A Clan camp needs walls,” Mudclaw insisted, glaring at Onewhisker. “Good, strong ones. Tornear and Poppyfoot are good at that, so that’s what they ought to be doing. A leader knows the skills of his warriors.”

Onewhisker narrowed his eyes. “That’s true, but a good leader also knows when to take it easy. We’ve been through a lot, and we need to pace ourselves for whatever lies ahead...”

Mudclaw ignored him, swinging his gaze over to Crowflight again. “Make sure the borders are marked cleanly and tightly,” he growled. “We need to be firm.”

“Hold on,” Onewhisker hissed again. “We all agreed that there will be some leniency allowed-”

Mudclaw narrowed his gaze. “If the borders aren’t established immediately, that foolish leniency will lead to prey-stealing and trespassing! When it comes to borders, there can be no questions!”

Crowflight backed away awkwardly. The two toms were staring at one another, glaring over a broken gorse bush like a pair of annoyed foxes fighting over a rabbit. The sight of it tickled at Crowflight’s mind, but he pushed it away – he desired very, very much to be somewhere else.

“Poppyfoot, you stay,” Ashfoot’s voice intervened, and Crowflight thanked StarClan that she was patient and firm, compared to Onewhisker and Mudclaw’s squabbling like annoyed elders.

The gray she-cat wound her way around the debris and planted herself firmly between Onewhisker and Mudclaw, as if her body might be enough to stop any confrontation. “Webfoot, Weaselpaw, go with Crowflight and Duskwhisker.”

Crowflight blinked gratefully at his mother. Ashfoot gave him a curt, respectful nod, and then turned to manage Onewhisker and Mudclaw.

“We’ll work on both walls and clearing the camp,” Ashfoot reasoned. “There’s no reason we can’t do both at once. As for the borders...”

“C’mon,” Duskwhisker grunted. She nudged Crowflight with her shoulder. “I don’t think they’ll be quiet any time soon.”

Crowflight had to agree. His mother was still patiently trying to mediate between Onewhisker and Mudclaw, and while it looked like it was working, it didn't seem like it would be settled for a while. Crowflight turned away from them and headed for the main entrance.

Before he pushed through the gorse, he glanced back again. Both toms had slunk off to their own corners of camp, leaving Ashfoot at the center of the clearing to direct the warriors in their duties. Onewhisker sulked by the boulders, grumbling to Barkface, while Mudclaw was clawing at some gorse with Tornear. They both looked like petulant kits sent to their nests without supper.

Crowflight cringed. StarClan, get them over themselves!