[TB] STARLIGHT -- Chapter 13 (Patreon)

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By the time Crowflight had returned from ThunderClan territory, the debate over the sudden border shift had settled to a disgruntled murmur, dying entirely when Barkface announced that it was time to bury Tallstar.

Onewhisker and Ashfoot brought Tallstar’s body to the roots of the rowan tree, where a small hole had already been dug. As they laid him down, Barkface spoke the words he reserved only for those on their journey to StarClan:

“May the moor winds bear you to our ancestors,” he said, his voice carrying from the hillside. “May your spirit never tire. May you walk among the stars for all time, and may we see you again.”

When it came to be Crowflight’s turn to kick earth over his old leader, he couldn’t help but wonder if Tallstar was happy with the state he’d left his Clan in. He wished more than anything that he could talk to his former leader and get some sort of confirmation that things would be okay – but without a Moonstone, not even Barkface or Ryewhisper could talk to Tallstar’s spirit, so why would Crowflight be able to?

With Tallstar finally buried, the Clan slunk down the hill and into camp as one; tired, but no longer in mourning. Crowflight watched his Clanmates settle down in groups, their fur fluffed against the chill – they wouldn’t be able to sleep outside for much longer, but it seemed like the dens were almost finished.

Crowflight was about to settle down with Ashfoot, who was huddled up tight with Softbreeze and Thornpaw, but he spotted a dark shape all on their own – Duskwhisker. Smokewillow meowed something to her, possibly asking for her to join he and Robinwing for extra warmth, but the black she-cat hissed her response and turned away from him firmly.

Curious, Crowflight approached. “Do you mind?” he asked, his breath puffing before his nose. “It’s getting cold.”

Duskwhisker curled her lip. She was wound up tightly, but Crowflight could still see her whiskers shivering in the darkness. She growled, “If you’re cold, do what you want. Just don’t bother me.”

Crowflight suppressed a sigh. He curled up around Duskwhisker, feeling her shivering ease. As he laid his head on her flank, he thought of asking her why she’d rejected Smokewillow’s offer – he was an annoying cat at times, but a good enough Clanmate – but he thought better of it. It seemed so small a thing, compared to everything else happening in WindClan.

Crowflight looked up at the stars. Tallstar would be there now, he was sure. Perhaps he was that bright point of light beside the Father? Had he met Deadfoot again? Would he guide the medicine cats to a new Moonstone?

His mind swirled. I’m a warrior, he told himself, feeling grumpy. I shouldn’t be worrying about this sort of stuff... that’s a medicine cat’s problem.

Crowflight closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

———————————————————

Perhaps it had been his thoughts on what constituted a medicine cat’s problem or not, but Crowflight’s dreams brought him into the forest, his paws planted on the shore of the river that divided ThunderClan and WindClan territory.

The trees creaked around him, sunlight streaming through their branches. Heat touched his fur – it must be newleaf, Crowflight thought, for it was cool in the shade, but warm in the sunshine. River water babbled gently as it flowed into the lake, the sound soothing his frayed nerves. Crowflight’s reflection barely moved on the surface of the water, something he found fascinating.

He was tempted to try fishing for the small shapes that flitted in his shadow, like Stormfur and Feathertail had taught him, but a voice caught his attention:

“There you are!”

Crowflight’s heart leapt. He lifted his chin, and felt the world grow a touch warmer, a touch brighter – Shadepaw stood on the opposite shore, her tail up in greeting.

As one, the two of them walked along the shore until they reached the tree-bridge. As one, they leaped onto its ends, and as one they padded along its surface until they met in the middle. They stood nose to nose for a long moment, just staring into one another’s eyes, until Shadepaw broke the contact with an amused snort.

She sat down on her haunches, staring out downstream at the lake. Crowflight followed suit, sighing as she leaned against him. Their dangling tails twined together, the tips wet from the occasional splash of water from below.

“This is nice,” Crowflight breathed.

“It really is,” Shadepaw agreed. “It feels so... real.”

Crowflight frowned. Wasn’t it real, though? It seemed real enough to him, and it was far and away better than anything happening in the waking world.

He opened his jaws to explain this to Shadepaw, but the world around him was suddenly awash in white, growing fuzzier and fuzzier.

“It’s time to wake up.” Shadepaw’s voice came from a shape barely identifiable as the tortoiseshell she-cat. It tilted what Crowflight thought might be its head and said, “I’m so sorry...”

Crowflight tried to reach out a paw, but all he caught was blank whiteness. Sorrow filled him as the world became too bright to comprehend, and he had to close his eyes...

———————————————————

He woke to a nose covered in snow.

Crowflight jerked his head up and sneezed, scattering soft white powder. He shivered, and shook his pelt of more snow. He sighed and licked his chest fur to smooth it – had anyone seen him do something so foolish? Hopefully not.

Snow lay in a thin layer over the camp, tipping the grass with frost like little spiky mountains. It didn’t seem like a lot at all, really – just the first flakes of leafbare, and Crowflight guessed that it wouldn’t last till sunhigh.

Still, it seemed to have been enough to get the Clan moving. Poppyfoot was ordering apprentices about the rain dens, yowling about how they needed to be finished before nightfall. Coming off of breakfast, Robinwing offered to help, and she and Smokewillow joined the building team.

Crowflight’s stomach growled. He glanced at the fresh-kill pile and sighed – Robinwing and Smokewillow must have taken the last of the leftovers from the night before. Crowflight resisted the urge to whine. I don’t want to hunt in the snow... not yet!

It seemed to be his destiny, however; from where she was arranging patrols, Ashfoot’s voice yowled, “Crowflight! You’re leading a hunting patrol, since you seem inclined to sleep in lately...”

Crowflight sighed as all eyes turned to him. He shrugged their looks off, padding up to his mother and asking, “Where should I go?”

“Not the forest,” sneered Duskwhisker. “It’s not ours anymore.” Beside her, Emberstep and Softbreeze were nodding, while Webfoot looked like he wanted to get on with his own patrol as soon as possible.

Crowflight didn’t blame him – this wasn’t the conversation he’d wanted to wake up to, either.

Ashfoot blinked at the she-cat. “We need to give time for ThunderClan’s patrols to mark the new boundary. I don’t want hunting patrols taking unnecessary risks.”

Emberstep bristled. She snarled, “It shouldn’t be their ‘new’ boundary! It’s ours!”

“She’s right; we weren’t consulted a whisker about it, and neither were you, Ashfoot!” complained Softbreeze. “It’s just not right!”

“And think about what prey might be there!" Duskwhisker went on, emboldened by Softbreeze’s support. “The rabbits are all going to lay low with this snow on the ground. We won’t see a whisker of them until it melts – the forest will have all the prey right now!”

Emberstep curled her lip. “I don’t like squirrel, but I don’t much like starving...”

Ashfoot’s tone was right on the claw’s edge of losing her patience. “You’re not going to starve to death from one morning without breakfast – what are you, a kitten?” she pointed out sharply. Emberstep didn’t meet her eye, and that seemed to satisfy Ashfoot.

“The border is what it is,” Ashfoot went on, raising her chin. Her dark blue eyes fell on Crowflight, who prayed to StarClan that his mother wasn’t about to pull him into this debate. “Crowflight, I want your patrol to hunt on our boundary farthest from the lake – there've been fewer patrols that way, so prey ought to be thriving.”

Crowflight nodded in understanding, relieved. He flicked his tail to Duskwhisker. “Want to go?” he asked. Perhaps some time out of camp would improve her mood?

Duskwhisker’s whiskers twitched, and she nodded.

“Sounds good,” Ashfoot decided. Her gaze traveled along the gathered cats. “Now, Poppyfoot is going to need every paw she can get to finish the rain dens by tonight, so patrols are going to be small. Don’t take risks, and be careful – we still don’t know this land well yet.”

She assigned Webfoot to take a border patrol along the new boundary with ThunderClan territory, a wise choice in Crowflight’s opinion. The older warrior wasn’t entirely in support of the border shift, but he wasn’t vocally against it, either. Softbreeze was sent to patrol the opposite border, putting her as far from the source of her annoyance as possible, and Emberstep was assigned to help Poppyfoot with the dens, probably a punishment for petulance.

Ashfoot started assigning a few other hunting parties and patrols for later in the day, but by then Crowflight sensed that he needed to get moving. He headed for the camp entrance, Duskwhisker following.

“You got up early,” Crowflight remarked. She hadn’t been there when he’d woken up, and Duskwhisker’s spot had been covered in the same thin layer of snow as the rest of the camp.

Duskwhisker scoffed, “You might like to sleep with snow on your back, but I don’t. As soon as I felt it, I had to get up...”

As they ducked through the gap in the gorse and heather, Crowflight wondered if that was really the case. But he shook off the suspicion – what would Duskwhisker have gotten up to otherwise?

He turned sharply and walked along the hills that bordered the camp. They passed the large boulder that jutted out from the hill, which was covered in a sparkly layer of frost that was already melting. Crowflight imagined that its surface was impossibly cold. They headed for the rowan tree, which held some snow deep in the crooks of its branches and down by its roots.

Crowflight paused their patrol, flicking an ear curiously. Mudclaw was sitting beside Tallstar’s grave, staring down at the freshly-turned earth.

“He's been there all night,” Duskwhisker admitted, murmuring in Crowflight’s ear. “I saw him when I got up.”

Crowflight felt a pang of sympathy for his former mentor. Did Mudclaw miss Tallstar that much, or was he angry about the state that the leader had left his Clan in? Either way, Mudclaw must feel awful, something Crowflight had a hard time imagining of him.

Mudclaw’s head turned, his amber eyes sharpening on Crowflight and Duskwhisker. Crowflight’s fur rippled, and awkwardly he padded up to Mudclaw. Duskwhisker was at his heel, her movements just as stiff.

“Hunting?” Mudclaw guessed.

Crowflight nodded. “We’re trying over on the far border,” he explained.

“You could come, if you want,” Duskwhisker chimed in. She came a step forward, her tone friendly.

Mudclaw didn’t move. “I’ll be staying, sorry,” he returned gruffly. “Some cat needs to ensure the camp is properly finished...”

Crowflight suppressed a sigh. A part of him had wanted to hunt with Mudclaw, to get him out of camp and let him clear his head, but he seemed determined not to participate. He glanced at Duskwhisker, who shrugged. They both bid Mudclaw a silent farewell and walked on, careful not to disturb Tallstar’s grave.

When they were out of earshot, Duskwhisker leaned close and hissed, “I don’t think he’s left camp since we got here!”

“I don’t think so, either,” Crowflight grunted in agreement. “What business is it of ours, though?”

Duskwhisker’s eyes flashed. “Isn’t it kind of bad that he doesn’t think things are alright enough to even go out hunting?” she pushed.

Crowflight’s shoulder fur lifted. He really didn’t want to talk about this. “If Mudclaw wants to stay in camp and mope, that’s his choice,” he threw back, dodging around a boulder hidden in the grass. “Personally, I don’t know how he can take it, with all the arguing that’s been going on.”

“It’s got to hurt seeing the Clan like this,” Duskwhisker pointed out. She bounded over the boulder with ease. “He was deputy for seasons – now he’s just... He must feel like he’s nothing.”

“He’s not nothing,” Crowflight growled. He glowered at Duskwhisker. “He’s a warrior, like you and I. Warriors have responsibilities – like hunting.”

Duskwhisker rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine!” she sighed. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t think arguing about our Clan’s politics is fun,” Crowflight told her. “It’s stressful, and distracting, and...”

He trailed off, letting out that sigh he’d held back. “It’s not what I thought things would be like when we finally got here,” he finished.

“Well, what did you think would happen?” Duskwhisker wondered. “That everything would be just fine? Like it had been before?”

“Was that so wrong of me?” Crowflight led them over a tall hill. At its peak he paused, looking down at the moorland flowing out endlessly before him. Ahead was the patch of forest that marked their farthest boundary, still so far away – unlike the woods by the ThunderClan border, those trees were too far away to realistically think about maintaining as part of their territory.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. We have so much land, yet we’re quibbling over those woods!

“Probably not,” Duskwhisker sighed, catching her breath beside Crowflight. “No one could’ve predicted that Tallstar would change deputies like he did – if he did.”

Crowflight threw her a look.

Duskwhisker shrugged in response. “Do you blame me for wondering?” she asked, eyes widening a touch. “Only Tinystar, Onewhisker, and Mistyfoot were there to hear what Tallstar had to say. You don’t think they might be lying? Not even a little bit?”

Crowflight’s shoulder fur bristled. “I can’t speak for Tinystar, but Mistyfoot wouldn’t lie.”

“Are you sure?” Duskwhisker’s gaze narrowed, unintimidated. “You might’ve journeyed together, Crowflight, but in the end she’s ThunderClan. What makes her so special that she gets to be there for WindClan’s most important moment? Why not Barkface, or Ashfoot, or anyone else?”

“Duskwhisker, that’s enough,” Crowflight hissed. His claws flexed in the earth, his mind flying back to the Arrival, where Mistyfoot confessed her own uncertainty in Tallstar’s words. “We’re out here to hunt, not gossip!”

“But don’t you agree?” Duskwhisker insisted, thrusting her muzzle close. “Doesn’t it seem just a little strange?”

A lump formed in Crowflight’s throat. “Of course it does,” he muttered, staring into his Clanmate’s eyes, dark blue to burning amber. “There’s a lot going wrong right now. ThunderClan doesn’t have a deputy, but things are going just fine for them.” He dug his claws into the earth. “It’s not fair that we’re always the one suffering.”

He lifted his muzzle. “But I know Mistyfoot, beyond Clan borders,” he said strongly. “She's never lied, not once. She might be a ThunderClan cat, but she’s a good one – she and Nightfrost and Shadepaw. You won’t make me think otherwise.”

Duskwhisker’s eyes softened. “I’m not trying to,” she soothed. “I’m sorry for pushing.”

Crowflight got to his paws. “I’m starving,” he meowed. “Can we get a move on, now?”

Duskwhisker’s tail frisked. “Of course.”

They made their way down the hill in silence, heading for the far-off forest. By now the snow had melted, the cloudy sky giving way to the lame leafbare warmth of the sun. Spurred on by his hunger, Crowflight swiftly found a bird pecking among the grass seeds, and their hunt began.

They were done by sunhigh – two birds, and a rabbit between them. Crowflight’s mouth watered from the smell of the fresh-kill at his paws, but he had to watch as Duskwhisker whiffed a leap that might’ve caught them a mouse.

Duskwhisker sat up in the grass, her tail lashing. “I hate mice!” she proclaimed. She glowered at Crowflight, disappointed in herself. “Got any tips from your ThunderClan buddies?”

“Maybe later,” Crowflight told her, whisking his tail. “We need to head back.”

Duskwhisker agreed to that, at least. Together, they gathered their prey up, Crowflight taking the birds while Duskwhisker insisted on hefting the rabbit. Just before her jaws met its scruff, however, she paused.

“Do you smell that?” she asked, her tone careful.

Crowflight shook his head. His fur prickled ominously. He couldn’t smell a thing over the scent of the birds, which were driving him absolutely wild with hunger.

Duskwhisker’s tail twitched a signal. Crowflight dropped the birds immediately, tensing his muscles as he opened his jaws to scent the air. A pungent odor hit his nose, brought on by the breeze blowing through the nearby forest. It was tinged with the smell of WindClan’s border markers, but unmistakable regardless.

Fox.

“It’s not close,” Crowflight pointed out.

Duskwhisker nodded to the trees. “Must be coming from there,” she guessed.

He peered into the trees, trying to catch any faint hint of movement that might mean a fox. I can't imagine them venturing too far away from the woods, he told himself. A fox would find it easier to catch their prey within the trees, rather than out on the open moor. But they might be a problem later, if it’s a leafbare den they’re settling into.

“We’ll tell Ashfoot when we get back,” Crowflight assured. “Keep your eyes open, though.”

They grabbed up their fresh-kill and quickly trotted away, putting the forest and its foxes behind them. Crowflight glanced at Duskwhisker, who kept turning her head to check their flank, as if she predicted the creatures might come and strike at any moment. Crowflight was sure they wouldn’t, not unless they were starving; but it didn’t help that she was nervous about it.

Just what we need, among everything else. Crowflight complained inwardly. Foxes!