[TB] STARLIGHT -- Chapter 25 (Patreon)

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Crowflight’s dreams were tormented.

It had started out fine enough – he was dreaming of Shadepaw, of sitting by her side with their tails twined, looking out at a lake glittering with stars. As always with her by his side, he’d felt calm, serene; a contrast to how tense and worried he was when his eyes were open. It was a state he wanted to stay in as long as he could.

His dreams had other plans, however.

One moment he was with Shadepaw, away from all his problems – the next, he was in WindClan camp, watching his Clanmates fighting one another, tooth and claw bared as if they were enemies. Tornear and Webfoot tore at one another’s pelts, Duskwhisker wrestled with Whitetail, Bramblefur and Softbreeze clawed one another’s flanks while their kits watched in horror.

“Stop it!” Crowflight called. “Please!”

They ignored him.

The fighting raged and raged, until Crowflight saw bodies begin to pile up on the grass. Tornear and Webfoot had killed one another, their bodies still locked in combat even as they lay still. Softbreeze was hunched over Bramblefur, glaring at Thornpaw, who was moving in to avenge her mother with a tail trembling in fear. Whitetail tossed Duskwhisker aside as if she were limp prey, and the black she-cat lay unmoving where she fell.

No! Crowflight wanted to wail.

In the center of it all were Onewhisker and Mudclaw, their attacks ruthless and relentless. Both were covered in blood, their own and the blood of their Clanmates, too, as their fight took them into the other’s battles. Their eyes were burning with hostility as they wrestled with one another, oblivious to all the death around them.

A gray shape moved forward to stop them – Ashfoot.

Crowflight watched helplessly as Onewhisker and Mudclaw took Ashfoot into their conflict and spat her back out, broken and bloodied and dead.

“No!” Crowflight rushed over to Ashfoot’s side. She stared blankly up at the sky, and Crowflight pressed his muzzle into her fur. She already smelled like starlight, and Onewhisker and Mudclaw just kept fighting on, as if all they could see was one another and their hatred.

Crowflight tried to will the dream – the nightmare – away. He didn’t want this, he wanted to be back with Shadepaw!

“You cannot ignore what lies in front of you.”

Crowflight lifted his head. The voice was unfamiliar to him – or was it? It tickled something in the back of his mind, something buried far, far back.

There was a black cat amidst the crowd of fighting and dying cats. He was leanly built, with broad shoulders and a narrow muzzle and big ears – a WindClan cat. But most definitive was his forepaw, which was misshapen and held awkwardly off the ground.

Deadfoot.

Crowflight met his father’s eye, dark blue into yellow. Deadfoot’s gaze held no real emotion, except perhaps sorrow at the sight around him – though was that just what was in Crowflight’s eyes, reflected back at him?

“Why are you here?” he asked. He wanted to be angry, be frustrated with his father. He wanted to demand how StarClan could stand back and watch as WindClan tore itself apart, but he hadn’t the strength. This didn’t seem like something StarClan could stop anymore.

Deadfoot tried to reply, it seemed, but his body flickered and faded away, as if it were struggling to be there in the first place.

Crowflight searched for his father in the crowd but to no avail – all of WindClan lay dead around him, even Onewhisker and Mudclaw, whose claws were buried in one another’s throats as they lay in the center of the clearing.

The grass was stained with blood, and the stars looked on.

———————————————————

Crowflight woke with the smell of blood in his nose and mouth.

He shot up out of his nest with a start, panic flaring in his chest. The smell was so strong, it had to be in the den – and because of his dream, his mind began to race. Had that nightmare become reality?

“Calm down, Crowflight,” muttered Webfoot.

Crowflight had to force himself to take deep breaths. The older warrior was in the center of the den, where heat gathered best. He had his leg stuck out awkwardly from his nest, and blood was leaking sluggishly from a long scratch down his haunch.

“What happened?!” Crowflight demanded.

Webfoot shook his head. “Just a scratch. Roughhoused a little too much with Weaselpaw yesterday, that’s all.”

Crowflight swallowed. “WindClan cats don’t train with claws out...” he reasoned, looking warily at the older warrior.

Webfoot’s eyes narrowed, and he snapped back, “What would you know? You’ve never had an apprentice!” He gave the scratch a tentative lick. With a sharp tone, he muttered, “Don’t you have any work to do?”

Crowflight flinched at his harshness. He wanted to snap back, but his dream still haunted the back of his mind. The possibility of fighting with his Clanmate was enough to keep Crowflight’s tongue dull.

He probably thinks I’m Mudclaw’s cat, too, he thought miserably. He thought of how respectful and friendly Webfoot had been not long ago, on their patrol around the new territory. He’s not going to want to talk to me.

Instead of lingering, Crowflight slipped out of the den. He couldn’t stand to be so surrounded by the smell of blood anymore; it was beginning to make his stomach churn. He took a deep breath of the clear leafbare air and was thankful that it seemed like the camp was in peace.

It was still early morning, but it seemed like every cat was awake. Emberstep and Duskwhisker were sharing tongues outside the elder’s den, while Whitetail and Poppyfoot were chatting by the gorse barrier. Poppyfoot paused their conversation to accept some sticks from Thistlepaw, who left quickly to gather more. Ashfoot was sitting outside, sunning on one of the boulders set into the hill, one eye open and watching the camp.

Ryewhisper emerged from the medicine cat’s den with a pawful of cobweb and a mouthful of herbs, only nodding at Crowflight before he slipped into the warrior’s den behind him. Robinwing and Smokewillow were walking around the camp’s perimeter, talking to one another in soothing tones while Robinwing stretched her legs. Weaselpaw and Thornpaw were cleaning out the fresh-kill pile – not an amazing task, but one that still needed to be done, supervised by Tornear.

Everything seemed relatively peaceful, and Crowflight realized that it was because he hadn't seen Onewhisker or Mudclaw anywhere.

The realization brought down Crowflight’s more hopeful mood. Was the mere presence of either cat really enough to incite problems?

“Crowflight.”

Crowflight’s ears pricked. He turned his head towards the source of the voice and found himself looking up the hill behind him at Mudclaw, whose dark shape stood out in the snow as if to stain the otherwise calm atmosphere with its presence.

“Come on patrol with me,” Mudclaw declared, twitching his tail to beckon the other warrior closer.

Crowflight opened his jaws to protest, but couldn’t. If anything, he wanted to keep Mudclaw away from the camp as long as he could, to preserve the somewhat peaceful air. Already he could see Whitetail narrowing her eyes as she spotted the dark warrior.

“Get a move on!” Mudclaw snapped.

Crowflight flinched, and headed for the camp entrance. He slipped through without incident, before Whitetail could stop him.

He met Mudclaw at the base of the hills, and before Crowflight could ask where they were even patrolling, because he couldn’t imagine Onewhisker letting him be assigned to go anywhere after the failed casting, the dark brown tabby was off, striding down towards the lake. Crowflight followed, his paws trudging through cold snow.

Worry prickled at Crowflight’s pelt. He was no expert, but the backs of Mudclaw’s legs and belly seemed like they were drying off from being wet, and there was something off about the tabby tom’s scent – it was too cold and fresh, like he had rolled it off in the snow.

What were you up to? Mudclaw hadn’t liked leaving the camp since they’d arrived at the lake and he’d been demoted – now it seemed like he’d gone for a long walk somewhere wet, and after his meeting with Falcontail the other night, Crowflight suddenly had a feeling he knew where Mudclaw had been.

His heart sank. What could that mean?

They paused at the stony shore of the lake, and Mudclaw sat down on the smooth pebbles. Crowflight didn’t want to follow suit, but it didn’t seem like Mudclaw was moving on anytime soon. He sat a pace away from the former deputy, curling his tail around his paws in a futile attempt to keep the cold from seeping into his body.

“It’s been some time since just you and I were out together,” Mudclaw mused. “Not since before you left on your journey.”

Crowflight twitched his whiskers. “That would be it, yeah,” he mumbled. While his mind raced, he busied himself with studying the pebbles below him.

Mudclaw stared out at the lake. The water was still and undoubtedly extremely cold – Crowflight could see frost struggling to take hold on the shore, stopped by the constant motion of the waves lapping against the stones.

“I like to think that I did my best with you,” Mudclaw meowed on, “but I’m not sure you would agree.”

Crowflight let the fur between his shoulders rise. “I could never seem to do anything right enough for you,” he muttered back, bitterly.

Mudclaw grimaced. “Right,” he sighed. “How many times did I delay your warrior ceremony...?”

Crowflight got to his paws and lashed his tail. “Enough,” he snapped, unwilling to meander down this trail any longer. “What is this really about?”

Mudclaw chuckled under his breath. “There it is, that attitude of yours,” he sighed. “No wonder I was so frustrated with you... You never seemed inclined to do anything I asked of you, no matter how small a task it was.” Mudclaw’s eyes flashed harshly. “Which is why I’m wondering it now – why are you on my side, Crowflight?”

Crowflight blinked, taken aback.

Mudclaw was staring at him evenly. “Well?” he asked, his voice a dangerous drawl. “And don’t tell me it’s just for Duskwhisker’s sake – that's not good enough, Crowflight. Not for this.”

Crowflight’s throat went dry. He was well aware that he had very little time – they were alone out here, beside the lake, and Mudclaw could very easily dispose of him and make it seem like a terrible accident if he felt so inclined. Still, Crowflight grasped at an answer.

“I just want what’s best for WindClan,” he meowed. That was right enough. To put some more bite behind it, Crowflight added, “Even if it means putting up with you bossing me around again. That’s worth it if WindClan can get on the right track.”

“And you think I am that right track?”

“Tallstar wanted peace,” Crowflight urged. He hoped that Mudclaw still remembered that. “And I think that both you and Onewhisker want that, too; but Onewhisker doesn't know what he’s doing, not a bit.”

Remembering what his mother had said, Crowflight went on, “You have the experience, but Onewhisker isn’t willing to work with you. I’d rather have experience; the alternative is dangerous. Our time here so far has proven that.”

Mudclaw seemed to believe it. At least, he didn’t move to attack Crowflight immediately. Instead, the old tom huffed, his breath puffing up before his nose as his gaze turned thoughtful.

Crowflight had to fight breathing a sigh of relief – again, what he had said wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t feel right, either. But what could possibly come next? Mudclaw would see through him eventually, see that Crowflight hadn’t the faintest idea who was right or wrong.

“Onewhisker has already proven he’s too proud to tell the truth,” Mudclaw rasped, finally. He let the sound of the lake’s gentle waves break his words apart. “I would respect him more if he weren’t so determined to keep his mouth shut.”

Crowflight’s tail trembled. “What are you planning?” he dared to ask, a lump in his throat.

Mudclaw’s eyes flashed. Crowflight sensed that he’d stepped over a line. But Mudclaw still did not attack – instead, the dark tabby meowed simply, “You say Tallstar wanted peace? Well, so do I, and I’m sure Onewhisker does, too – but peace can’t always just happen, Crowflight. Sometimes you have to fight for it.”

Crowflight’s heart thumped in his ears. “Y-You can’t be serious... we can’t fight each other!” His nightmare wiggled its way into his thoughts once more, and he felt sick. All of them dead, all the blood and sorrow... “Mudclaw, what do you think that will accomplish?”

“You think I want this?” Mudclaw hissed. He curled his lip, his claws scraping against the stones. The fur along his shoulders rose into sharp, slightly damp, spikes. “Onewhisker drove us this far, Crowflight, and don’t you forget that. I will do whatever I have to for peace in WindClan!”

Crowflight pinned his ears, unsure of what to do in the face of Mudclaw’s intensity.

“When the time comes, do I have your loyalty?” Mudclaw asked, his voice dark and serious. He seemed to loom over Crowflight, like a cat twice his size. “Do I?”

Crowflight swallowed, trying to fight the urge to flinch beneath Mudclaw’s powerful gaze. He felt like an apprentice again, being scolded for doing something minorly wrong.

Tail twisting, Crowflight managed, “You do.”

Mudclaw relaxed. “Good,” he decided. “Now, hunt on the way back. If anyone asks...”

“We didn’t speak?” Crowflight guessed, his voice small.

Mudclaw’s eyes flashed. “Good,” he repeated. Lifting his chin, he purred, “Keep it up, Crowflight. It will all be over soon.”

Mudclaw turned and stalked away, heading off into the hills. Crowflight waited until he was gone, then flattened himself against the stones, ears pinned tight to his head. He dug his claws in between the pebbles.

It will all be over soon, Mudclaw had said.

Crowflight didn’t have to imagine what that meant – he'd seen it all in his nightmares.

He’s going to act soon, Crowflight thought desperately. He thought of Ashfoot and Duskwhisker dead on the ground and wondered if it was a prophecy, a sign sent by StarClan in the only way they knew how, the only way they could.

He looked up at the sky, but it was clear and blue and he didn’t know if the stars were still there.