[TB] STARLIGHT -- Chapter 19 (Patreon)

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Crowflight found himself walking along the bank of the river, and he knew this was a dream.

It was easy to tell, really. The stars were so close he wondered if he could touch them with a paw, though he daren’t try. Not only that, but the air was warm, and the trees on both sides of the water were filled with vibrantly green leaves that shimmered with dewy light. The moon was huge and full, filling the lake with its pure, white glow.

And Crowflight wasn’t alone.

Shadepaw walked beside him, their pelts brushing so close that they might as well be walking as one. He could feel her heart beating against his, and could look over and see the shine of stars in her eyes. She smelled of ThunderClan but that didn’t matter, not here – it was the smell of his dear friend, and this was a dream.

Together they walked along the river, their paws turned upstream. The land was harsh and craggy, growing steeper and steeper as they journeyed, their stride as familiar as breathing as the trees gave way to hilly moorland. It wasn’t like their first journey, no, nor even the Great Journey; but it was the two of them together, traveling, knowing one another’s movements as if they were their own.

He missed this.

Before he had been chosen by StarClan, there had been nothing like this feeling within his own Clan, with his own Clanmates. He was always set apart, the deputy’s apprentice and the prior deputy’s son and the only survivor of his litter, expected to be better than the others and treated as if he already was, even if he really wasn’t. Looked at as if he were someone else, born again.

The other chosen cats had never treated him like that.

Shadepaw had never treated him like that.

He looked at her now, at the way that her eyes were focused ahead, concentration lining her features. Did she know that? Had he ever managed to tell her?

“I don’t understand it,” Shadepaw murmured.

“Understand what?” Crowflight wondered.

Shadepaw stopped, and Crowflight stopped with her. They were at the edge of WindClan territory, just a pawstep away from the wild moorland beyond. Shadepaw was staring at the land ahead, and then she moved her gaze to the river.

“I keep dreaming of this place,” she said. She leaned her muzzle down, staring into her own starry reflection. “This place, this journey... and you.”

Crowflight was confused. Though he was aware this was indeed a dream, he didn’t have enough wherewithal to grasp what she was saying, why she sounded so strange. He looked down at his own reflection and saw it beside hers, and that made him happy – didn't it do the same for Shadepaw?

“StarClan is telling me something, I know it,” Shadepaw meowed. She reached out a paw and touched the water, sending ripples through the starlight. “But what?”

“Maybe they’re telling you that everything will be okay?” Crowflight guessed. “That we can...”

Can what? His next words rested on his tongue, but he didn’t know what they would be. He felt tangled up in them, lost in a bramble of things he’d like to say but wasn’t sure if it was really him saying it: If it was something he was supposed to do, or something he wanted to do.

Shadepaw looked at him funny. Crowflight had the distinct feeling that he was a distraction from her thoughts.

“I wish things were clearer,” Shadepaw sighed. She touched her nose to Crowflight’s. “I wish they would just tell me what they want me to know, to do...”

It was a good-bye. Crowflight felt the dream breaking down. He didn’t want it to, but he knew he was powerless to stop it.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Crowflight told her, as she faded. He willed her to see in herself what he did. “You’re smart, Shadepaw. Kind and sweet, and...”

She was gone.

———————————————————

“Great StarClan!”

Crowflight’s eyes snapped open.

Normally, it would have taken his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the rain den, but not this morning – part of the den’s ceiling had collapsed, raining sticks and, worst of all, snow, onto half the nests inside.

Crowflight got to his paws and edged back, grateful that his part of the den had been spared. It had snowed every night since the Gathering, as if it had been waiting for just the right opportunity – Crowflight supposed it was only natural that something like this might happen.

“Poppyfoot!” complained Softbreeze. “I thought you said that these were secure?”

Poppyfoot was rooting through the debris. The young tortoiseshell looked upset that her work had been so outdone. She lifted a twig with a paw and then let it fall.

“The support is still there,” Poppyfoot reported. Though that was good news, apparently, she still seemed somber. “It’s just the rest of it that wasn’t put together right.”

“That’s all right, Poppyfoot,” Ashfoot sighed. She bent her head to lick her chest fur. “No one got hurt, that’s what matters.”

“I’ll work on it right away,” Poppyfoot promised.

“You’ll have the apprentices.”

“Apprentices?” Webfoot lifted his head. “I was going to assess Weaselpaw today.”

“Thistlepaw, too,” Tornear put in.

Ashfoot shook her head. “It’ll have to be put off,” she said, an apology in her tone. “This is more important.”

Webfoot sighed. To Tornear, he offered, “I guess we can assess their ability to find strong sticks?”

Tornear looked annoyed, but he got to his paws and stretched. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Poppyfoot looked at both senior warriors gratefully. “Thornpaw, too?” she suggested. “She’s got a good eye...”

“I need Thornpaw on nursery duty,” Ashfoot stated, shaking her head. “Robinwing’s moving in today and we need to see her comfortable.”

Crowflight tried not to cringe. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Thornpaw to have to prepare a den, especially after the Gathering a few nights ago. Her peers in the other Clans were probably leading border patrols right now. He was grateful that they hadn’t any elders, else poor Thornpaw might be combing their pelts for ticks.

“Crowflight, you help Poppyfoot,” Ashfoot decided. She licked a paw and drew it over her ear. “At least until Thornpaw is free.”

Crowflight tried not to groan.

The others got on with their jobs, though, and so Crowflight knew he had to do the same. He wasn’t chosen for this because he was best, he knew, it was mostly because he’d been right there, and everyone else was already assigned. Poppyfoot seemed grateful, regardless.

“I’m sure it won’t be long,” Poppyfoot said, her gaze sympathetic. “Now, can you help me clear all this out?”

By the time he was done, his paws felt like frozen blocks, and it was sunhigh. Snow was falling quietly, promising more layers to test Poppyfoot’s dens. As Crowflight helped Poppyfoot clear out the rain den, he spotted Thornpaw moving back and forth between the nursery and medicine cat’s den, sometimes with moss, sometimes with leaves, but always carrying an intensely sad expression.

When she was done, the young she-cat immediately crossed the clearing to meet up with him.

“Ashfoot told me to help you and Poppyfoot,” she said.

Though Crowflight had been promised relief by now, the other apprentices weren't back. So, he set to work tugging and manipulating twigs with Poppyfoot and Thornpaw. He wasn’t at all good at it, he knew – the she-cats mainly used him for holding things in place while they worked on the more delicate tasks. It was still exhausting, and being stuck inside the den was making him stiff and skittish.

As if she could sense it, Poppyfoot offered, “Go grab us some fresh-kill, will you? We could all use a break.”

Crowflight was happy to oblige. He slipped out of the den like a hare and trotted towards the fresh-kill pile, which was situated beneath its own canopy of woven grass. This roof, and the roof of the rain dens next to it, seemed intact, built at an angle to slough the snow off from the hill.

Hunters had brought in fresh prey, and when Crowflight grasped a rabbit in his jaws, he scented Duskwhisker. His heart panged – he would’ve loved to hunt with her, instead of spending his day stuck inside the rain dens and being poked with sticks.

When he turned back, he spotted a dark shape talking with Poppyfoot and Thornpaw – Mudclaw.

Unease twisted his gut. As Crowflight dragged the rabbit back, he tried to put it aside: Ever since the Gathering, Mudclaw had been downright civil. He still hadn’t left the camp – some cats were wondering if he was just planning to retire, and Onewhisker didn’t seem inclined to stop those rumors. As far as Crowflight knew, that one night meeting under the rowan tree had been the only one, and the cats that had sounded supportive to Mudclaw’s words had been otherwise silent.

Still, the sight of Mudclaw talking to anyone alone still stirred feelings of worry in Crowflight. What did he want?

“Oh, that looks lovely, Crowflight!” Poppyfoot purred, eyes lighting up at the sight of the rabbit. “Prey here is just so plump!”

Crowflight handed it off to her. “You two can have it,” he reasoned. “You’re working a lot harder. I’ll grab something else for myself.”

Thornpaw opened her jaws to object – she was still an apprentice, after all – but Poppyfoot urged her aside. The two slipped out of the den, settling not far off to share their meal.

“It’s a shame,” Mudclaw rasped. “Thornpaw is wasted on a task like this.”

“She’s good at it,” Crowflight mewed. He tested a paw on the ground, unsure if he felt a splinter. “Unlike most of us.”

Mudclaw narrowed his gaze. “She should be a warrior.”

“She should,” Crowflight agreed, giving his pad a lick. It didn’t seem like there was anything there, but he really didn’t want to meet Mudclaw’s eye.

“And you’re not meant for this, either,” Mudclaw went on. “I doubt StarClan chose you for your ability to see one stick from another. I certainly didn’t train you up so that you’d be stuck fixing dens.”

“Well, it’s what I was told to do,” Crowflight countered. “By the deputy.”

“It wouldn’t need to be done at all if Poppyfoot had been given the time to set things up properly,” Mudclaw muttered. “We should have all our warriors hunting, this deep into leafbare. How much fresh-kill was on the pile?”

“Enough,” Crowflight answered. “For now.”

“For now.”

Crowflight’s shoulders sagged. “Do you want us to hunt the moors dry?” he wondered, frustration edging his voice. “What will that accomplish? The prey here is fat, we can survive on half as much as we’re used to!”

“I’m just saying that things are disorganized,” Mudclaw growled back. “Surely you see that?”

Crowflight bit his tongue. Of course he did – there was no denying that WindClan had been disorganized since they’d stepped paw by the lake! Crowflight’s pelt fluffed in the cold.

“Instead of blaming everything on Onewhisker, why not do something about it?” he hissed. “Why not try helping him, instead of moping around camp all day?”

Mudclaw bristled at that, and Crowflight saw anger spark in the older tom’s eye. Crowflight knew he had ruffled the tabby tom’s pride.

“You still don’t understand,” Mudclaw growled. “I don’t know if you ever will.”

Crowflight opened his jaws to ask what he meant, but he was cut off – Thistlepaw and Weaselpaw pushed their way through the gorse tunnel. Thistlepaw bore in his jaws a fat pheasant, a rarity in leafbare, and Weaselpaw had a trio of mice dangling against his chin. Tornear and Webfoot followed their apprentices in, looking proud.

“Oh, look at my little hunters!” Softbreeze cooed. She licked both between the ears, her purr audible across the entire camp.

“I sent you for sticks!” Ashfoot sighed, looking to their mentors. “Where are they?”

“Just outside,” Webfoot mewed, gesturing with his tail to reassure her.

Tornear nodded. “We got plenty, but we thought we’d assess them anyway. There was just so much prey scent in the area, and look at what they found!”

Ashfoot glanced at Onewhisker, who was emerging from his den. The pale warrior looked at the apprentices, a smirk on his muzzle.

“It is a good catch,” he pointed out. He glanced at Ashfoot. “And they still did as they were asked. I’d say they passed.”

Ashfoot sighed. “Well, I wasn’t going to say they hadn’t...”

Onewhisker looked proudly at both of the apprentices. “You’re both very good hunters,” he praised. “Now, go deliver some of that to Robinwing, and then help Poppyfoot with the dens.”

“Yes, Onewhisker!” Thistlepaw mewed, tail straight up.

Weaselpaw hesitated, though. He looked up at Onewhisker, the trio of mice at his paws. “When can we be warriors?” he wondered. “Are we going to be stuck as apprentices forever, like Thornpaw?”

The entire Clan paused. All eyes looked to Onewhisker, and Crowflight’s pelt itched with discomfort. He glanced at Thornpaw, who immediately got up to her paws and slipped inside the collapsed rain den. Poppyfoot, tail twitching, followed her.

Onewhisker cleared his throat. “Thornpaw isn’t stuck as an apprentice, and certainly not for forever,” he reasoned. “She’ll have her name, as soon as a new Moonstone is found.”

Weaselpaw glanced at Thistlepaw. The two looked uncertain, but walked off anyway. Thistlepaw took his pheasant to the nursery, while Weaselpaw slipped his mice into the fresh-kill pile.

The rest of the Clan separated, after that. The mood had certainly shifted to something more somber, more tense. Onewhisker gestured with his tail to Ashfoot, and the two slipped into Onewhisker’s den inside the hill.

Beside Crowflight, Mudclaw scoffed. “At least when I held you back, it was because of your lack of ability,” he grumbled. “If it were me, Thornpaw would have her warrior name, StarClan or not.”

Crowflight curled his lip. “That’s the difference then, isn’t it? It’s not you.”

Mudclaw’s shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing. He stalked away, heading for the rowan tree.

Crowflight rolled his eyes – at one point, he had sympathy for Mudclaw’s grievances. Now, they just seemed sad.

———————————————————

Snow had gathered in a nice fresh layer all around camp and all Crowflight wanted to do was head into his nest and sleep. He’d finally been able to get out of camp for a patrol with Duskwhisker and Softbreeze, and they hadn’t gotten back until moonrise.

He’d had to hear all along the way how proud of her kits Softbreeze was, how of course they brought back such nice prey, that they were naturals – it had at least made for some great material to joke about with Duskwhisker behind her back.

“My kits are so perfect, they can fly!” Duskwhisker had crowed.

“Well, my kits are so perfect, prey just runs into their paws and dies!” Crowflight had joked back.

If Softbreeze had heard any of it, she didn’t say.

“It should hold up,” Poppyfoot promised as cats filed in to sleep. She gestured to the thick sticks between the dirt floor and the roof. “We put lots of extra support in! Weaselpaw even jumped all over the roof, just to be sure!”

Crowflight circled his nest, bumping his back against Duskwhisker as she laid down, too. He felt her curl up tight, readying herself for a deep sleep.

“Night,” he offered.

Duskwhisker opened an eye and chuckled, “Sweet dreams.”

Crowflight rolled his eyes and put his head on his paws. After how dull today was, he was quite looking forward to a nice dream, one that was gentle and familiar...

A screech broke the night air:

“Foxes!”