[TB] TWILIGHT -- Prologue (Patreon)

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Brackenfur opened his eyes and found he could see the stars.

They sparkled above him like a thousand-thousand glimmering lights - so close he could reach out with a paw and touch them; scoop them out from the inky night and play with them like a kit collecting fireflies. He was breathless, taken aback by their beauty, by the solace they gave him.

This was StarClan.

When the four Clans arrived at the lake territories, after their long Great Journey, the question of how they would commune with their warrior ancestors was still unanswered. The Clans may have settled in their new camps and begun learning their new territories, but with that unknown hanging over their heads, it was hard to feel like this was where they were meant to be.

Now, StarClan had led them to the Moonpool. This was the answer - the lake territories were their home. All was in its right place, and all was as StarClan intended.

Brackenfur felt like he could breathe easy for the first time in moons.

He looked down from the sky and observed his surroundings. StarClan's hunting grounds were always an ethereal, ever-changing mystery - a gorgeous, idyllic landscape of forest, moor, and river that was everything a Clan cat could want and more. Prey-scent filled his nose, a greenleaf-warm breeze stirred his pelt, and the earth beneath his paws was supple, ready for infinite new growth.

It was paradise - but here, in the skies over the lake, the world of his ancestors felt somehow more ancient than the lands Brackenfur recalled seeing through the Moonstone of the old forest. The trees here were larger and older; the rocks were covered in moss and vines, barely distinguishable from the grass; the shores of the streams and rivers cut deep into the stone and earth, with shores of black sand like the Moonpool itself.

All of it was unfamiliar, yet Brackenfur still felt at ease - after all, the Clans were having to adjust to a new, strange land themselves. StarClan was surely facing a challenge no different.

The long grass rustled, and Brackenfur turned his muzzle to face his visitor. There were no threats in StarClan, he knew that deep down in his heart, and the familiar scent that washed over him only further confirmed that fact.

The new arrival was a massive gray she-cat with a matted, tangled pelt. She pushed through the grass with broad shoulders, her flat muzzle crinkling when a stray frond threatened to poke her in one of her large, orange eyes. She pushed it away with an annoyed hiss, meeting Brackenfur in the open field.

“Yellowfang,” Brackenfur murmured. He dipped his head to her, respectfully.

“Oh, stop that!” Yellowfang grunted immediately. Her tail lashed in the grass. More affectionately, she mewed, “It's good to see that you've finally found us.”

“You guided Shadepaw well,” Brackenfur meowed, lifting his muzzle. He looked his mentor in the eye and felt fondness rise in his chest. “Your light led her through the dark.”

Yellowfang scoffed, her eyes flashing. “I'm sure one of you would've found the Moonpool, eventually; I didn't think there was any need to pull at your whiskers,” she assured him. “Spottedleaf was insistent on sending a sign, however. She's grown impatient of late.”

“It's good that she did,” Brackenfur pointed out. “This new land is large, and the Clans need your guidance, always. Who knows how long it might've taken for us to find the Moonpool?”

Yellowfang's eyes narrowed, just slightly. Brackenfur knew that meant she was disappointed in his unflappable faith, but unsurprised by it. The old she-cat complained on, “The Clans are capable enough without us for a heartbeat; you don't need StarClan to catch your prey or wash your tails!”

Brackenfur purred. He missed his mentor's gruff personality more than anything, sometimes. “We won't ever stop looking to the stars, Yellowfang - now, what's gotten Spottedleaf's tail in a twist? We've only just arrived at the lake; surely there isn't trouble already?”

Yellowfang's grimace twisted her flat muzzle oddly, and that made Brackenfur hesitate. Something was wrong - Yellowfang was never one to hold back.

“We arrived in these lands at the same time you did,” Yellowfang began roughly. “Of course, we began to explore, as you did - and while we were looking around, Spottedleaf caught wind of an omen of some kind.”

Brackenfur's stomach twisted. “An omen?”

Yellowfang lifted her muzzle. “Some sort of... Omen of the Stars, she called it,” she muttered.

Brackenfur's pelt tingled. “What did it say?”

“Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red,” Yellowfang recited, her voice deep and grave. “Before there is peace, the Omen must be fulfilled.”

A chill ran down Brackenfur's spine, and his claws reflexively dug into the earth. Rarely did he ever receive such ominous words from StarClan, and these seemed to spell disaster for the Clans, without a doubt!

“What are we to do? What is this Omen?” Brackenfur demanded. His tail bristled. “What else do you know?”

Yellowfang lowered her muzzle, her eyes flashing with frustration. “Spottedleaf claims that our arrival has awakened this Omen, somehow; as if we were sticking our paws into a sleeping bee's nest.”

The old she-cat curled her lip. “But this Omen isn't anything new, Brackenfur,” she growled, her tone low and dangerous. “There is something evil coming, something that was always festering and waiting, something as old as StarClan. I don't know much, but I do know that.”

“An evil as old as StarClan...?” Brackenfur echoed. His heart was in his throat, and he wasn't certain what to say. His leg ached terribly.

“There will be much to discuss in the coming moons, I think,” Yellowfang admitted. She sighed, heavily, and her gaze locked onto Brackenfur, a soft affection smoldering there. “I did not want our first meeting here to be so dark.”

Brackenfur leaned forward and touched his nose to hers. She smelled like old herbs and starlight and was cold to the touch in a way that made Brackenfur feel warmer. He wanted to stuff his muzzle into her thick, knotted pelt and yowl, like he was her apprentice again, back in the fern-shaded den he had called home.

“It's all right,” he promised her, instead. “We can come through this, together.”

Yellowfang purred roughly, and it was the last thing Brackenfur heard as the world went dark, and he felt himself drifting away.

———————————————————

Brackenfur blinked open his eyes, feeling rested and rejuvenated to his core.

The Omen!

He could still hear Yellowfang's words ringing in his head, ominous as the beat of an owl's wings in the night air. He stared out over the still, glowing water of the Moonpool, and though it did give him some measure of peace to be in such a holy spot, all he could imagine were those waters soiled with blood, the redness lapping at the black sand beneath his paws.

“I can’t believe it,” mumbled Ryewhisper. Brackenfur turned his nose to the young WindClan medicine cat, who was getting to his paws. His eyes were bright as he looked at Barkface and purred, “The Moonpool!”

There was no indication that these two had been told anything similar to what Brackenfur had just learned. He schooled his expression, not wanting to give it away and take from their renewed hope. There would be a time when they would all work together to solve this Omen, but that was not tonight, or StarClan would have told them all.

“It’s breathtaking,” Barkface rasped in agreement. He dipped his head to Shadepaw. “StarClan led you well, little one.”

Brackenfur glanced at his apprentice. She was by his side, still uncurling from her own starry dreams. He wondered what she had been told – Spottedleaf was the cat she saw most often in StarClan, after all - but when she woke there was a gleam in her eye that he recognized, one that troubled him just a bit.

Her mind is set on something. He suppressed a groan, knowing that she would not tell him, no matter how it might prove an issue later. What could it be, now?

“It was an honor,” Shadepaw replied, her voice even. She was trying not to give anything away. Her tail curled around her paws, and she added quietly, “A wonder!”

Beyond her, Mothwing yawned deeply. The lovely golden she-cat began licking her shoulder fur as if she were doing a proper morning wash. It seemed she had nothing to say, one way or the other.

Perhaps she knows? Brackenfur dared to wonder - but the new RiverClan medicine cat kept her thoughts close to her chest, it seemed.

“What now?” Shadepaw asked, her breath clouding before her nose. The chill of leafbare was settling in now that the warmth of excitement was fading.

“We tell the Clans,” Brackenfur told her. I must decide what to tell Tinystar. More importantly, though, he swiveled his gaze to Barkface. “And you are to get Onewhisker here as soon as possible.”

“Definitely,” Mothwing mewed in agreement. She opened her jaws to scent the air and commented, “I can taste moisture – there's going to be a big storm, I think; that will make travel difficult.”

Barkface nodded solemnly. WindClan being without a proper leader would only cause more trouble the longer it went on. Every other Clan was seeing evidence of their shaky position after Tallstar's death.

If the Omen really were coming to unmake the Clans, it was more important than ever that WindClan had strong leadership to help the other Clans deal with it.

Littlecloud of ShadowClan cleared his throat: “It’s a long journey home. We mustn’t delay!”

The others nodded in agreement, but Brackenfur frowned.

“Hold a moment, please,” he meowed. Though he could feel the urgency in the air, and the cold in his paws told him otherwise, he couldn’t help himself: “There is one more thing I must do.”

Silence befell the hollow of the Moonpool. Brackenfur took a deep breath and caught Yellowfang’s scent once again in his nose. He could almost feel her pelt brushing against his, urging him on, pushing the right words to his mind - the words that she had spoken to him many seasons ago, before the Moonstone.

Yes, this was the right time.

“I, Brackenfur, chosen medicine cat of ThunderClan, ask that StarClan look down upon this apprentice.” He heard Shadepaw take in a breath, and though his eyes were raised to the stars, he imagined that she was wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. “She has trained hard to understand your ways, see your signs, guide her Clan, and heal her Clanmates, and with your guidance, she will serve you and her Clan for many more moons.”

Finally, he looked down at Shadepaw.

“Shadepaw, do you swear to uphold the ways of the medicine cat: To stand apart from the rivalries of Clan and Clan, and protect all the lives beneath the skies of StarClan equally, even at the cost of your life?”

Shadepaw’s eyes were wide to their whites, but her response was immediate and resounding: “I do.”

Brackenfur leaned forward and touched his nose to her forehead. “Then I name you Shadepool, medicine cat of ThunderClan, in honor of this place that you have found through your unyielding faith. Your determination and care for others shall serve ThunderClan and StarClan for seasons to come.”

Though they all knew that time was of the essence, each medicine cat lifted their muzzles and called her new name to the stars:

“Shadepool! Shadepool!”

The chorus of congratulations died, and swiftly the medicine cats departed, traveling single-file up the winding trail out of the Moonpool’s protective hollow and out into the snow.

When they were all safely beyond the hawthorn, they said their goodbyes, and Brackenfur wished Barkface and Ryewhisper the speed of StarClan, not envying their task one whiskerlength.

Mothwing and Littlecloud left next, paying little regard to WindClan’s troubles. They would likely be buzzing excitedly about the Moonpool as they made their way to their territories on the other side of the lake, as it seemed they were taking the path home together.

“Do you think WindClan will be okay?” Shadepool wondered once they had all gone. Brackenfur did not miss how her eyes strayed towards the moorland, how impatiently she kneaded her paws against the earth.

It was natural for her to worry, but Brackenfur wondered if her concern lay with WindClan as a whole, or with a certain warrior she had become rather close to over their long journeys together.

“WindClan’s fate is in StarClan’s paws, now,” Brackenfur told her simply.

“But did they see anything that might help, one way or the other?” Shadepool pressed.

Brackenfur flicked his tail. StarClan would not have appreciated it if he’d called her nosy during her naming ceremony, but she had certainly become such lately, especially since her return from the chosen cat’s journey. Did she think he hadn’t noticed?

“A medicine cat’s priority is their own Clan, first and foremost,” Brackenfur reminded her. He got to his paws, feeling the cold creep into his joints. His old injury throbbed painfully - Mothwing was right about the coming bad weather. “We must get home.”

Shadepool frowned, looking unsatisfied. But she obeyed, leading the way down the hills and towards ThunderClan’s forest.

Before he left, Brackenfur looked once more at the waters of the Moonpool. They were clear and still, but, as Brackenfur watched, the waters were growing darker and darker, a sinister shadow bleeding up from the depths.

He narrowed his eyes. The moonlight was fading, but this was far too dark to reflect that; and as the water ebbed at the stony shoreline, he thought he saw the faintest hint of red...

Blood!

The Omen filled his mind: Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red. Before there is peace, the Omen must be fulfilled.

The Moonpool's waters were filled with blood, now, and Brackenfur watched the redness spill off, down the many waterfalls, into the gorge that fed the lake... He shivered, feeling his body grow cold. The faintest sight of the lake he could see from the uplands was turning pale red beneath the half-moon. There was a lump in his throat, tight and stiff.

“Brackenfur?”

What could he do?

“Brackenfur!”

He flinched. Shadepool was by his side, again, looking at him with concern in her eyes. She pushed him with a paw.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Brackenfur caught his breath. He dared to take a glance at the Moonpool, and sighed in relief - it was no longer filled with blood, but reflecting the stars above on its clear surface, as it should. He took a moment to stare into Silverpelt, slowing his breathing which had accelerated in his sudden panic.

Four of the stars burned brighter than any other, and the sight of them eased his mind.

“Brackenfur?” Shadepool asked again. She glanced at the water, then at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Did you see something?”

Brackenfur turned his gaze to her and saw that her eyes shone with those same four stars. A sense of calm enveloped him, then, wrapping around his body like a warm mossy nest. Hope.

“It's my leg,” he lied, partially. “This stone has sapped it of its warmth, and moving it is hard.”

“Some exercise will warm it up, and we've got juniper at home,” Shadepool promised. She pushed at his shoulder with her paw. “We need to go, slow-slug! Come on!”

Brackenfur couldn't find it in him to be indignant at her light insult. The stars had long disappeared from her eyes, but the sense of hope in his heart did not - as he got to his paws to follow his apprentice, he hoped Yellowfang had seen what he had seen.

There may be an answer after all...