[TB] STARLIGHT -- Chapter 14 (Patreon)

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Crowflight opened his eyes to the dim light of dawn.

He wasn’t alone in the rain dens, both of which had been finalized three days ago, when Crowflight and Duskwhisker had returned with news of the foxes. Whitetail was still resting in her nest, sleeping off the chest-rattling remnants of her whitecough on Barkface’s orders. Crowflight measured his movements, reluctant to wake her.

Crowflight had to admire Poppyfoot’s work – the she-cat had expertly woven together most of the bushes that had cluttered the camp upon WindClan’s arrival, and not a drop of the sleeting rains that had tormented the moor in the past three days had penetrated the tight canopy above.

Crowflight peered out of the rain den, almost resting his chin on the frosty grasses outside. Poppyfoot hadn’t only worked on the rain dens – she'd used her knowledge to create an elder’s den across the clearing, and a nursery just next to it, at the very back of the camp walls, which had also benefitted from her expertise and were solidly blocked out, though not entirely finished yet - protected by the tall hills surrounding them.

On Ashfoot’s suggestion, the fresh-kill pile had been moved to a more sheltered location, tucked beneath a large gorse bush as if it were in a den of its own, with even its own ceiling to keep bad weather from spoiling the prey. That, Crowflight recalled, had greatly puzzled Poppyfoot, though she had managed it in the end.

He spotted Poppyfoot now, emerging from the medicine cat’s den beneath the Tallstone, what they were calling the stone that rested on a tumble of boulders that framed the repurposed badger sets – one for the medicine den, the other for Onewhisker’s private den.

Poppyfoot’s paws were clotted with dirt, and there was mud on her back, and Crowflight guessed that Barkface had told her to rest, because she was heading right for the rain dens.

Crowflight half pulled himself out of the den, welcoming her with a polite nod. “Everything okay?” he asked. If Poppyfoot caught had whitecough, after all she’d done for the camp, Crowflight figured that would be very unfair.

Poppyfoot’s whiskers twitched. “I’m okay,” she answered. She looked tired, but itching to do more. “I’ve spent the better half of the night expanding the set for the medicine cats, is all. It was going so well, but Barkface all but pulled me out by the scruff! I’m ordered to rest until at least sunhigh.”

“Good dreams,” Crowflight offered.

Poppyfoot nodded her thanks and slipped by, settling into her feather-and-bracken-lined nest, near the center of the den where the senior warriors slept.

Not wanting to disturb either Whitetail or Poppyfoot, Crowflight pulled himself out of the rain den, settling down to give himself a quick groom before he sought Ashfoot for today’s assignments. Crowflight was thankful that the sleeting had stopped, for now, though the sky was gloomy enough to promise more.

He imagined he would be hunting and patrolling, as per usual, but he wondered what order that might be in, and whom he might be going with; being rained on the whole time was just not a pleasant thought.

It felt nice, thinking about such a simple thing. With the camp cleared out, the dens mostly built, and the walls formed, there was little else to worry about, it seemed. Life in WindClan seemed to be going on as it would have back in the old forest, in the old camp, with cats sharing tongues and gossiping, greeting one another with friendly ear-flicks and nose-touches.

It all seemed rather nice, except for Duskwhisker, who was, once more, off on her own, picking at a leg of rabbit with her tail-tip twitching. She was a black spot in the gray-white clearing, and Crowflight had to sigh – she had always been stubborn, but never utterly reluctant to socialize. What had changed? Crowflight had taken her on near every patrol he’d had control over, but still she was prickly as a hedgehog.

“... think it would be useful, is all,” mewed a voice nearby.

Crowflight pricked his ears. Tornear was beside the fresh-kill pile, chatting with Ashfoot. The senior warrior gestured to the camp wall that was situated between the fresh-kill pile and the rain dens, meowing on, “That way, we’d have a path that goes to the Golden Hills, and the main entrance’s trail can go to the Verdant Moor. Not to mention having a secret way in and out of camp might be handy.”

Ashfoot thought about it, her tail twitching. “I’ll discuss it with Onewhisker,” she decided. “Right now, I want you for a hunting party. The dawn patrol from the Golden Hills ought to be back any moment, you can go out right afterward.”

Tornear nodded. “All yours,” he purred.

Crowflight blinked happily at his mother. I’ll ask to join Tornear. That’ll make her day even better, I'm sure. She was settling so well into her deputy role – even with the Clan arguing over this and that, she always seemed to make sure things ran as smoothly as possible.

She had even been the cat to think of naming the two halves of their territory: the Golden Hills for the stretch that ran from the camp to the new ThunderClan border, where the grass was colored yellow; the Verdant Moor was the other half, which ran up to the Horseplace, and whose grass was far greener. It helped to orient the patrols, and made it feel more and more like WindClan was here to stay.

The camp entrance rustled. Crowflight glanced over – the main entrance was situated on the other side of the rain dens, marked by a small boulder on the outside. Must be the patrol Ashfoot was talking about, Crowflight guessed. Smokewillow, Thornpaw, and Emberstep walked into camp, their fur ruffled.

“There you are!” breathed Robinwing. The brown she-cat lifted herself up from the earth, moving to meet Smokewillow. She went to touch noses with the gray warrior, but drew back in shock. “Blood!” she wailed. “Smokewillow, you’re bleeding!”

Her hysterical screech brought the attention of the entire camp. Barkface and Ryewhisper emerged immediately from the medicine cat’s den, and Onewhisker lifted his head from where he lay, sunning himself on the Tallrock. Duskwhisker came out from the nursery with Mudclaw, both of them with sticks in their jaws, which they dropped to come out and join the rest of the Clan. Bramblefur squeezed out after them, eyes wide as she rushed over to Thornpaw.

“Are you hurt?” the queen fretted, nosing her daughter.

Thornpaw protested, “I’m fine! I’m fine!”

“What happened?” growled Mudclaw. The fur on his hackles was lifting.

Onewhisker leaped down from the Tallrock and pushed through the crowd, shoving aside Mudclaw almost pointedly to stand before Smokewillow. “Are you alright?” he asked, eyes flickering over each cat. “What happened? Was it those foxes?”

Smokewillow curled his lip. “Not the foxes – we didn’t scent them at all. We ran into a ThunderClan patrol at the new border, though,” he reported. “One of their warriors crossed the scent line.” His shoulder twitched as Barkface gave it a stiff lick, grunting at whatever it was he saw before moving on.

Emberstep lashed her tail, which had a new bite mark on it. “They were chasing a rabbit! It was one of ours, but they argued it was theirs. It got heated.”

“Typical ThunderClan!” huffed Duskwhisker. “Move the border a whisker and they take a fox-length!”

Mudclaw scoffed. “ThunderClan wouldn’t know how to catch a rabbit if it landed in their paws!”

A few cats grumbled in agreement until Onewhisker lifted his tail for silence. “I hope none of you instigated,” he mewed, looking over each cat evenly. “The border is what it is, now. There’s no need to pick a fight with ThunderClan cats.”

“It was our rabbit!” Thornpaw insisted. Her fur was puffed out, her tail lashing in frustration. “I saw it run over the border, and then it doubled back! That’s when their warrior went for it.”

Onewhisker ignored her. “Did you identify the warrior?” he asked, looking to Smokewillow and Emberstep.

“Pretty sure it was Sootfur,” Emberstep mewed. She held her tail still while Ryewhisper wrapped a wad of cobweb over it. “Or Rainwhisker. Those two are hard to tell apart in forest-light.”

Crowflight glanced at Onewhisker, who seemed to be pondering the situation. A look at Mudclaw made it clear that the dark warrior was very interested in how Onewhisker handled things here. Crowflight’s heart thudded in his ears anxiously.

“I’ll bring it up to Tinystar at the Gathering tomorrow night,” Onewhisker decided. “All of us leaders agreed to treat border crossings with leniency, but outright hunting on another Clan’s land wasn’t part of that agreement. I’m sure he’ll reprimand his warrior properly.”

Mudclaw curled his lip. “Or they’ll think you’ll roll right over and accept trespassing, since you gave up the land so easily,” he snapped back. “When it’s announced that you traded territory for leaves, what will the other Clans think? Maybe ShadowClan might try their paw at moor hunting next!”

Onewhisker’s spine bristled. He glared at Mudclaw, snarling, “Without those leaves, Whitetail might’ve gotten greencough and died!”

“You don’t know that,” Mudclaw snorted, his amber eyes burning a challenge. “Whitecough doesn’t always turn to greencough!”

“I didn't feel like risking one of my Clanmate’s lives on a maybe!” Onewhisker growled, frustration building in his tone. “If you were Clan leader, perhaps you’d understand!”

Mudclaw’s hackles rose. “If I were Clan leader, I wouldn’t have gone to ThunderClan at all!” he hissed, drawing close to Onewhisker. “Take a guess at what grows in woodland, Onewhisker – herbs. We could’ve found what we needed on our own land, without begging ThunderClan! Now we’ve lost a valuable resource, and for what? Some dried-up tansy?”

“You are not leader of WindClan!” Onewhisker yowled, his voice straining.

“Is that all you have to say?!” Mudclaw snapped back.

“Enough!” Ashfoot yowled. She pushed her way between Onewhisker and Mudclaw, her eyes burning. “That’s enough, the both of you! Mudclaw – get back to fixing up the nursery. Now.”

Mudclaw glared at Onewhisker, but made a point of dipping his head to Ashfoot before he turned away, his tail flicking to and fro.

Crowflight’s fur prickled. The air crackled with tension, with every warrior’s hackles stiff. This was the first major fight in a few days, and each cat looked stunned. Barkface glanced at Ryewhisper, the two sharing a very worried look. Onewhisker looked furious, his claws digging into the earth over Mudclaw’s words.

Not to mention how Mudclaw backed down for Ashfoot, not him, Crowflight thought, swallowing. Onewhisker must be raging at that! Did Mudclaw really have to keep poking the beehive? One day, the two were surely going to snap, and not even Ashfoot would be able to stop them.

“Onewhisker,” Smokewillow meowed, his tone awkward. “There’s something else.”

Onewhisker’s spine relaxed. He sighed through his teeth. “What is it?” he asked, his tone sharp.

He probably hadn’t meant to sound so frustrated, but it made Smokewillow hesitate regardless. The gray warrior flicked his tail at Thornpaw, who had been drawn close to her mother Bramblefur in the midst of the argument, as if the queen could protect her daughter with her body from the harsh words.

“Thornpaw not only identified the stolen rabbit, but she fought well in our scrap against the ThunderClan cats,” Smokewillow reported. “More than that, she was very brave for what she endured on the Great Journey. I think she’s earned her warrior name.”

Thornpaw’s eyes widened, and purrs of agreement chased away the tension ramping up in the air. Crowflight couldn’t help but agree with Smokewillow, though the gray warrior was annoying at times: Thornpaw had spent almost the whole journey to the lake with an injured paw, powering through it with the help of a ShadowClan queen, Duskflower, a friendship that had ended in sorrow when Duskflower died saving Thornpaw’s life in the mountains. Ever since, there had been a quiet maturity to the young she-cat, one that befitted a warrior.

Crowflight looked at Onewhisker. Thornpaw was well overdue for her warrior ceremony, there was no doubt. Beyond her experience, she was the Clan's eldest apprentice, having received her apprentice name only about two moons after Crowflight had. Starvation and the Great Journey had delayed things in WindClan greatly.

Onewhisker blinked at Thornpaw, his gaze sympathetic. “I’m sorry,” he breathed with a heavy sigh, “but I cannot do that.”

“What?” snapped Bramblefur incredulously. “Whyever not?!”

Onewhisker grimaced, looking uncomfortable. “I haven’t gotten my nine lives yet, nor my StarClan-given name as leader of WindClan,” he explained, his voice tight and awkward. “I cannot in good conscience name a warrior when I’ve not been formally named myself.”

The crowd rippled with anxiety. It was as if the Clan as a whole hadn’t yet realized that without a Moonstone, Onewhisker would always just be Onewhisker. Crowflight swallowed, nervous. Barkface and Ryewhisper both hung their heads, as if ashamed they and the other medicine cats hadn’t been able to find a connection to StarClan yet.

It needs to come soon, Crowflight thought worriedly. A flash of movement at the nursery entrance betrayed Mudclaw’s presence – the dark tabby had heard all of that, likely.

Crowflight swallowed. What happens when a leader isn’t really a leader? If we can’t name new warriors, or make new apprentices, or do any of our ceremonies...

WindClan will fall apart. It’ll be like StarClan abandoned us.

Crowflight’s throat tightened. He could tell the others were thinking similar oppressive thoughts.

It’ll be like our journey was for nothing.

“I... I have something to say!”

Robinwing’s voice cut through the unease in the air like a claw. The brown she-cat pressed herself tightly against Smokewillow, her eyes sparkling now that she had gotten everyone’s attention.

“What is it?” asked Onewhisker. “Hm?”

Robinwing took a deep breath, glancing at Smokewillow with eyes so sappy they made Crowflight want to gag. With a purr, she announced, “We’re having kits!”

Emberstep rolled her eyes. “Well, that was obvious...” she groaned. “What’s next? Water is wet?”

Smokewillow flicked his tail against her nose. “Oh, shut up!” he chuckled.

“Kits!” Bramblefur breathed. “Oh, StarClan, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to be sure,” Robinwing explained, starry-eyed and blissfully unaware that she had thrust her news upon the Clan at what was likely a bad time. She pressed herself tightly against Smokewillow, head raised proudly.

“Congratulations,” Ashfoot purred, looking at the pair proudly. She nudged Onewhisker, offering, “The nursery will get put to use right away, isn’t that something? WindClan’s first litter by the lake!”

Onewhisker certainly looked happy. “It’s wonderful!” he breathed.

Crowflight ducked out of the way while the rest of the Clan clamored at Smokewillow and Robinwing. The news seemed to have completely chased away the dark clouds of tension, but Crowflight could see Thornpaw still looking sorrowful, and a dark shape breaking away from the crowd made his ears twitch.

He got to his paws and followed Duskwhisker. The black she-cat's trot was purposeful, her stride taking her to the small, unfinished gap in the camp wall that was beside the fresh-kill pile. Crowflight squeezed out after her, concern flaring in his heart. Was she okay? He knew she wasn’t really a fan of Smokewillow – Crowflight certainly wasn’t on the best of days - but why would this news bother her?

Duskwhisker didn’t go far. She rounded the hill and picked her way up the huge boulder that jutted out from it, and Crowflight followed, feeling the chill of the stone seep into his pads. Duskwhisker sat at the very top, and Crowflight sat beside her, unsure of what to do.

They sat in silence together, looking down the hills and out to the lake. From this vantage point they could see every territory, from RiverClan’s lowlands to ShadowClan’s pine woods to ThunderClan’s forest, not to mention the whole lake and the small boxes of the Twolegplace beyond Clan territory. Crowflight might’ve thought it an amazing view, if not for the circumstances under which he was up here at all.

“I’m not angry about the kits,” Duskwhisker murmured, finally, answering the question that Crowflight had thought better of asking. “And I’m not mad at Robinwing, not really.”

“What is it, then?” Crowflight wondered. Duskwhisker’s muzzle was low, the black she-cat staring firmly at her paws. Worry burrowed under Crowflight’s pelt. “Did Smokewillow do something to you?”

“It was while you were away, and while Robinwing was captured by Twolegs,” Duskwhisker mewed. Her voice was tight, cracking. “Smokewillow and I... we were getting close. I thought we might be mates. We talked about it a lot, actually. I wanted kits, but he... and then...”

Crowflight’s heart hung heavy. “And then Robinwing came back,” he breathed, piecing together the timeline in his mind.

Duskwhisker’s claws scraped against the stone. “I thought we were going to be great together, but he broke up with me the instant Robinwing came back,” she hissed, exasperated. Her claws scraped the stone. “It felt like I was good enough for fooling around with while Robinwing was gone, but not good enough for having a family with, you know?”

Crowflight leaned over and licked her shoulder, unsure of what to say. No wonder you don’t want to hang around him, he thought. His stomach turned at the thought of what Duskwhisker had gone through – all that hope, all those expectations, during the worst time in WindClan’s history... Not to mention how Smokewillow had seemingly used her, under the impression that Robinwing was never coming back.

I don’t want to be too friendly with him, either, now.

“Did you ever talk to him about it?” Crowflight wondered. “Him or Robinwing?”

Duskwhisker shook her head. “When we talked, Smokewillow tried making me think I was being the unreasonable one. I wanted to claw his face off! And Robinwing... she’s innocent in all this. If I told her, I don’t know if she’d believe me, and I don’t know if it’s worth breaking her heart over it when she seems so happy.”

Crowflight frowned. “You shouldn’t be the only one to suffer, here,” he insisted. “That’s not fair!”

Duskwhisker narrowed her eyes. “Do I look like I’m suffering?” she snapped.

Crowflight drew back. “I, I just...” StarClan above, how do you even talk to she-cats?!

“I’m annoyed, okay?” Duskwhisker went on, her lip curled over a tooth. “I don’t want anything to do with Smokewillow beyond being warriors together, and I can tell that hurts him just fine. He can have whatever life he wants with Robinwing, but he’s not using me ever again. If he hurts Robinwing, though, or those kits, I’ll let him have it for sure!”

Duskwhisker sighed. “I'll have my own family someday,” she declared. She turned to Crowflight and grinned, “Smokewillow can eat my tail then!”

Crowflight purred. “I’m sure he will!” he agreed. He nudged her with his muzzle and chastised, “I can’t believe you were into that rabbit-brain!”

“Tch!” Duskwhisker spat, getting her balance. “Who else was there, you?”

“Hey!” Crowflight drew up, offended.

Duskwhisker’s eyes sparkled. “You’re a good friend,” she reasoned. “That’s just fine for me, right now.”

Crowflight sighed. “Well, it’s fine by me, too!” he huffed.

He figured he ought to be offended, but he wasn’t - there was a warmth in him that he hadn’t felt in a while, not since his journey with the other chosen cats had ended. It was a warmth he hadn’t known in his kithood, nor his apprenticeship, either. He hadn’t wanted that warmth, then. There were too many things he had been expected to do.

“Crowflight! Duskwhisker!”

Duskwhisker leaned over the boulder’s edge. She yowled back, “What is it, Ryewhisper?”

Crowflight craned his neck, looking over the she-cat. Ryewhisper was far below, standing in the grass on the hillside, neck bent almost backwards to look up at them. Crowflight felt a prickle of awkwardness – how long had he been down there? He couldn’t imagine anyone listening in on a conversation going on this high up, but WindClan cats were well known for their sharp hearing.

“I need you!” Ryewhisper called. “Can you come down?”

Duskwhisker pulled herself up. “Wonder what it’s about?” she muttered.

Crowflight shrugged, and followed her down the boulder. They both leaped off just before the bottom, meeting Ryewhisper in the tall grass below.

“What is it?” Crowflight asked.

Ryewhisper blinked at them. “I need to go to RiverClan territory, to see Mothwing,” he explained. “Robinwing’s not due to kit for a moon or so yet, but we need to stock up on any borage we can find before it dies out completely, if it hasn’t already. RiverClan land is wetter than ours or ThunderClan’s, so Mothwing might have some to spare. If not them, then ShadowClan – but I’m hoping it won’t come to that!”

“Of course I’ll go,” Crowflight meowed, nodding his head. He was the only cat in WindClan who knew where RiverClan or ShadowClan’s camps were, after all. He glanced at Duskwhisker – would she be okay with going, if it was to help Robinwing, and, by extension, Smokewillow?

She didn’t seem perturbed. Duskwhisker nodded curtly and asked, “When do we leave?”

“Right now, if we can,” Ryewhisper breathed, eyes bright. He nodded to the two warriors. “Lead on!”

It was Duskwhisker who took off first, a spring in her step as she made her way down the hill. Ryewhisper followed, and Crowflight took up the rear. The air was brittle and cold, the sun barely able to spread its warmth to the ground below...

… but Crowflight didn’t feel the cold, for once. Not one bit.