[TB] TWILIGHT -- Chapter 3 (Patreon)

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The walk back to ThunderClan territory was long, tense, and mostly quiet. More than anything, it was humiliating. Though RiverClan and ShadowClan’s territories were empty of patrols this early in the morning, Shadepool could almost feel their warriors watching from the shadows of every bush. Were they laughing? Did they find it funny that ThunderClan was being forced to take the long way home?

Orange dawn light streaked the sky as the ThunderClan patrol crossed into ShadowClan territory, and by the time they had forded the stream and made it across their own border and into the forest, the sun had risen fully. It was just another humiliation, taking so long, and the entire patrol felt it, with shuffling paws and dragging tails.

“I hope the dawn patrol went out on time,” muttered Dustpelt as they stepped into ThunderClan territory. Shadepool glanced over her shoulder – the dark tabby warrior was clustered with Mousefur, Brightheart, and Sootfur just behind her.

“Graystripe took care of it, I’m sure,” Brightheart assured. She stepped over a large, fallen stick, brought down by the recent blizzards.

Dustpelt raised his lip in a scoff. “Graystripe could hardly ever get his apprentices up on time, you think he can handle waking up a whole patrol? Or waking up for one himself?”

Brightheart rolled her eye, though Shadepool saw Sootfur’s whiskers twitch in amusement. Mousefur’s voice was stiff and certain, however: “Come off it, Dustpelt. The patrols are fine – no cat wants to get an earful from you...”

Dustpelt looked like he might complain further, but Tinystar’s voice stopped him. The Clan leader didn’t look back, only yowled, “Ferncloud! Snowstep! Come up here, now!” and continued on his way, leading the patrol along the winding, up-and-down paths through the forest.

Ferncloud and Snowstep obeyed, hurrying away from whatever conversation they were having with Sun, Mistyfoot, and Nightfrost. Shadepool watched the couple huddle around Tinystar and Brackenfur, heads bent close.

“Wonder what they’re talking about?” Nightfrost wondered, sidling up to his sister.

Shadepool twitched her whiskers, curious herself. She longed to go up and listen, but she imagined that Brackenfur would simply tell her that it wasn’t her place, which made her pelt flash with annoyance.

I may have my full name, but I'm still just an apprentice in his eyes.

To distract herself, she glanced at Sun. The young she-cat's expression was troubled, and Shadepool wondered, “Are you alright?”

Sun flicked an ear. “I am fine,” she responded, sounding uncertain about it. “But, well, I’m sure you understand that I wasn’t expecting such a thing at a Gathering...”

Shadepool blinked in understanding. This must be so hard for you to wrap your head around. This Gathering had been her debut as a full warrior of ThunderClan after leaving her home in the mountains, and Shadepool felt sorry that such a momentous occasion had been taken from her new Clanmate by such dismal news.

“Not all Gatherings are like this one,” Nightfrost assured. He brushed his tail along Sun’s flank. “I think every Clan is going to be reeling from what happened last night for a while, though...”

Sun’s expression only grew more clouded. “The Tribe never had these sorts of issues,” she pointed out.

Mistyfoot drew close and mewed gently, “The Tribe do not share their mountains with anyone else. Here, Sun, you must remember – ThunderClan isn’t the only Clan around, and the Clans have hardly ever seen eye to eye on anything.”

Sun frowned. “But to accuse us of something so heinous? Has the Great Journey meant nothing after all?”

Shadepool glanced between Nightfrost and Mistyfoot, feeling a twinge of discomfort in her stomach. They must be thinking the same thing – that the journey they had taken, all the hardship and loss they endured to bring the Clans to their new home, was for naught.

The unity borne from the Great Journey had faded like mist in the moonlight at the power of Mudstar's words, and now the grass beneath their paws was as dry and cold as it had ever been. The worthlessness of it all was overpowering.

“I don’t think that’s fully true,” Nightfrost mewed. He was trying to sound optimistic, and he gave Sun a playful nudge. “Some cats just can’t stop holding on to grudges no matter what, and Mudcl-Mudstar is one of them, for sure!”

“Yes,” Mistyfoot agreed hastily. Her expression was unreadable. “That's exactly it. Every cat has their own agenda.”

Sun frowned. “I suppose,” she mumbled.

Mistyfoot's eyes sparkled when she looked down at Nightfrost, as if she were grateful for his words, and Nightfrost’s shone right back at her. Shadepool had to look away. The feeling creeping in between her ears from her brother was so warm, so happy – it felt inappropriate to partake in.

She tried instead to focus on Crowflight. This entire situation was so baffling, and Shadepool was struggling to understand that the cat she loved was now the deputy of a WindClan that hated ThunderClan with every hair on their pelts – but despite all of that, he still wanted to meet her. Surely that meant that some sense could be made of the whole thing!

We ought to be able to figure this out, she thought, determination warming her limbs, staving away the cold. Surely he has something I can use to help us out of this situation?

It was nearly sunhigh as the Gathering patrol drew close to the tightly woven gorse bushes that formed the camp walls. They were each and all cold, tired, and more than a little annoyed with the long trip they'd had to take. Shadepool herself did not look forward to subsequent Gatherings feeling like another Great Journey, herself - all the more reason to find a way out of this mess, with whatever she and Crowflight could come up with.

Tinystar drew them to a halt just outside the entrance with a flick of his tail. When the cats in the patrol were all gathered around him, he raised his chin to speak:

“I know you are all tired,” he meowed, “and each one of you will be spared from patrols or hunting parties for the day while you rest.” Tinystar’s sharp gaze leveled on his Clanmates. “Say nothing of this Gathering to the Clan until I've had the chance to speak about it.”

“When will that be?” Dustpelt demanded.

Tinystar flicked an ear. “I intend to call a Clan meeting immediately.”

“Good,” Mousefur grunted. Her shoulders were squared. “But is there a plan?”

Tinystar did not reply for a moment. Shadepool sensed her Clanmate’s growing restlessness in the way that Mousefur shifted her shoulders. The others were just as expectant - surely Tinystar had a plan, right?

After a moment of silence, her father meowed: “This is not a situation we can take lightly. I’ll be open to any ideas from the senior warriors, once everyone else is informed.”

Mousefur’s pale eyes flashed in surprise. “But-”

“Mousefur, there’s really nothing else I can do right at this moment,” Tinystar interjected, his tone sharp. Shadepool knew he was just as tired as everyone else, and his temper was wearing thin. “I need to tell the Clan before there are any wider discussions.”

Mousefur closed her jaws. She glanced at Dustpelt, who looked equally disgruntled – but Tinystar stood strong. Shadepool knew her father was right, that this needed to be handled properly; but she couldn’t help but feel a lump form in her throat.

What if he couldn’t handle it?

———————————————————

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”

Tinystar’s voice echoed, bouncing off of the stone walls that encircled ThunderClan’s camp. It was certainly effective for drawing out any cat that hadn’t already gone out for an assigned patrol, though the meeting was well-timed – Shadepool counted heads, and it seemed like every ThunderClan cat was going to be present for this one.

They might wish otherwise, she thought grimly, once they hear the news.

“We got worried when you weren't back on time,” Cloudtail purred, shaking dried leaves from her pelt as she emerged from the warrior’s den. She was quick to touch noses with Brightheart, relief in her eyes. “Graystripe wanted to send out a patrol to look for you...”

Swiftfoot was only a moment behind, his broad shoulders carrying snow from the branches of the den that he didn't bother to shake off. “What’s all this about?” he asked roughly, brushing his muzzle with Brightheart's.

“You’ll see,” Brightheart sighed, flicking the snow piles from Swiftfoot's shoulders with her paws. She drew her mates close, and they settled into the crowd. Whitewing, their daughter, joined them a moment later, just coming in from a hunting patrol with Rainwhisker and Spiderpaw.

After hauling their catch to the fresh-kill pile, Spiderpaw found her mentor, Mousefur, who didn’t seem thrilled to sit with her apprentice for the meeting. Spiderpaw was the only apprentice in the Clan at the moment, though, and thus she got her way in some regards.

Sootfur was barraged with questions by Rainwhisker as they went to join Sorreltail and Sun, but Shadepool saw them both hold firm and stay silent. Dustpelt touched noses with Cinderpelt, and Shadepool guessed she knew her mate well enough not to ask just yet. They sat with Ashfur, Graystripe, and Silverstream, and Longtail sat down close by, his ears twitching in the direction of any nearby conversation.

Shadepool saw a flash of gray and white out of the corner of her eye – Ferncloud and Snowstep had both retreated to the nursery, which made Shadepool curious. Did they have permission to miss the meeting? Was Larchkit ill? She was about to turn and ask, but Nightfrost stopped her.

“Sit with us?” he invited.

Shadepool frowned. Her brother was sitting with Mistyfoot, near Mousefur and Spiderpaw and Rainwhisker. Nightfrost was sitting quite close to Mistyfoot, their flanks touching, and that wasn't just to leave room for Shadepool, she guessed.

She sensed that she had little choice – it was a bit late to sit by Brackenfur beneath the Highledge, as Tinystar was already gearing up to speak, and she would have to make her way through an entire crowd to get to them. She hurried over to her littermate and ended up squeezing in between him and Rainwhisker.

“I’m guessing last night didn’t go well?” Rainwhisker hissed, leaning close. “Soot here won’t tell me a thing, and Sun's jaws are sealed, for once!”

“You could say that,” Shadepool offered, tentatively.

“Cats of ThunderClan!” Tinystar’s meow rose high. “As I am sure you are all aware by now, I and my Gathering patrol have arrived far later than anticipated. I apologize for any undue worry, but we were forced to take an alternate route around the lake."

“Forced?” questioned Longtail. His ears focused intensely on Tinystar, the scarred lids of his eyes twitching as if they were trying to narrow. “How?”

“We all have the right to travel around the lake, especially for Gatherings,” Cinderpelt added, confused. “We agreed on that at the Arrival.”

“I know,” Tinystar meowed on, his tone stretched thin. “However, something has happened that has changed our circumstances.”

Shadepool saw her father steady himself. She couldn’t imagine the pain and sorrow he was feeling, having to say what he was going to say.

“After the battle on the moors, Onewhisker and Barkface went to the Moonpool,” Tinystar explained. “However, before they could contact StarClan, they were ambushed. Onewhisker was killed, and Barkface was reportedly savagely wounded.”

“Great StarClan!” gasped Rainwhisker. His eyes went wide to their whites, and Shadepool felt his pelt bristle in alarm.

“W-What?!” Cinderpelt’s mew was full of horror. She glanced at Dustpelt, who confirmed with a somber nod. Cinderpelt whispered, “Who would do such a thing?!”

Spiderpaw was bristling, and Shadepool saw her limbs shake. “Is WindClan okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Yes, are they? Who leads them now?” wondered Graystripe. His tone was full of concern. “If Ashfoot and Onewhisker are both dead...” Graystripe trailed off, clearly hurt by the news, then mustered the strength to ask: “Onewhisker appointed a new deputy before he left, right?”

Tinystar took a breath, his gaze darkening. “This is where things get a bit more complicated, I’m afraid – Onewhisker apparently appointed no deputy before he left. After the attack, Mudclaw was allegedly chosen to lead WindClan by some sort of consensus that he did not disclose.” Tinystar blinked, slowly. “He is Mudstar now, and he has chosen Crowflight as his deputy.”

Shocked yowls rose in a chorus. Within the high camp walls, Shadepool felt like a throng of birds had started to scream in her skull all at once. They were as outraged as the cats attending the Gathering had been, and Shadepool felt herself reeling once again:

“He’s too young to be deputy!”

“Mudstar? How?!”

“How do we know he didn’t kill Onewhisker?”

“Yeah! He was certainly willing to before...”

“After all we did for them?”

“I’ve got three scars because of that fight!”

“I'm still sore!”

“Crowflight? Why?”

“He’s a good enough warrior, but it’s against the code, isn't it?”

“He's had no apprentice that I know of...”

“What is WindClan thinking?”

“Calm down!” Tinystar yowled.

Her father’s voice had cracked, straining to get over the cacophony. The fretting dulled down to a murmur, and Shadepool curled her tail around her paws. She tried to lean on Nightfrost, but sensed that he was preoccupied – Mistyfoot looked to be dizzy from all the yelling, and he was busy comforting her. Shadepool drew back sharply and dug her claws into the slush instead, hot thorns pricking her pelt.

“Yes, this is unprecedented,” Tinystar went on, his voice straining. “Mudstar hinted that StarClan had something to do with both his and Crowflight’s appointments. That, however, is not the only issue at our paws.”

“What else could there possibly be?” snapped Swiftfoot. He looked incredulously up at Tinystar. “Have mice started flying as well?”

The absurdity of his question, combined with the absurdity of this entire situation, did get a few purrs of some sort of dark amusement out of a few cats in the crowd. Shadepool wasn't certain whether or not that was a good thing.

Tinystar frowned. “Apparently, at the site of the ambush, there was significant evidence of a ThunderClan presence.”

The entire Clan went deathly silent.

“Mudstar has declared that ThunderClan is responsible for Onewhisker’s death.” Tinystar’s voice broke with the weight of his grief. Shadepool saw the luster fade from his eyes. “He has closed his borders to us and is demanding justice.”

The silence stretched thin like ice just creeping over a stream. The cats who had attended the Gathering, who already knew, looked up at Tinystar with resignation to the facts. The others, those that were only just hearing of this, wore shocked, open-jawed expressions. Shadepool could almost hear their words of disbelief die on their tongues.

“Mudstar did not outright declare war,” Tinystar pressed on, tired and resigned, “but I have decided that we must prepare for it, nonetheless.”

His icy gaze swept across his Clan. “I know, deep down in my bones, that no ThunderClan warrior would ever do something so cowardly and heinous – these accusations are baseless. But, Onewhisker is still dead, Mudstar is still the leader, and all of WindClan stands behind him. RiverClan and ShadowClan’s positions are undecided. We cannot ignore what this means.”

The crowd murmured, unsettled.

“No cat leaves camp alone,” Tinystar declared. “The WindClan border must be monitored, and I want the patrols along the Divide doubled. Hunters should avoid getting too near the river. There must be no undue instigation from us. We will need every cat ready to defend ourselves - it's not a matter of if Mudstar will cause a problem, but when and how.”

He took a deep breath, and his gaze lifted. Shadepool followed his eyes, turning her head towards the nursery. Ferncloud and Snowstep sat just outside, with Larchkit between them, his fur groomed to perfection.

Oh. Shadepool suddenly realized why Tinystar had spoken to the pair earlier. Had Larchkit heard all that had been said? Did he understand what was about to happen? She felt bad for him – every kit dreamed of getting their apprentice name, but this honor would always be eclipsed by the circumstances that necessitated it.

Every cat turned their heads, and the realization dawned on them, too. Shadepool heard Silverstream murmur something sympathetically. Someone wondered who his mentor would be, but there was little suspense in their voice.

“Larchkit,” Tinystar announced, “come forward.”

The young cat got to his paws and, urged on by Ferncloud, padded forward. The crowd split around him, everyone edging away to give him some space. Larchkit kept his chin high, but Shadepool could see a wobble in his step.

So, he has some idea, she guessed. He was not fully deaf, like his father. Shadepool guessed that his good ear had caught all he needed to know. Poor mite.

“Larchkit, you have shown tremendous bravery for one so young,” Tinystar meowed, his voice clear and loud, as Larchkit paused beneath the shadow of the Highledge. Ferncloud was allowed to sit beside her son, to sign Tinystar's words in case he missed them. “You have crossed from forest to mountain to lake, and it is my pleasure to give you your apprentice name.”

Larchkit raised his head, his bicolored gaze wavering.

“Larchkit, from this moment forward, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Larchpaw,” Tinystar announced.

Shadepool watched her father’s gaze keenly. Who would be Larchpaw’s mentor in this trying time? An older warrior, like Graystripe or Cinderpelt? Someone young, like Rainwhisker? Or, perhaps, Mistyfoot?

She glanced at her friend, curious. Mistyfoot had had an apprentice seasons ago, in the old forest – Shrewpaw, Spiderpaw’s brother. However, an encounter with a badger had taken Shrewpaw’s life shortly after he’d gotten his apprentice name, and Mistyfoot had taken the blow and blame deep in her heart. Would she be given another chance?

Mistyfoot was looking up at her leader, now, straining as if she might convince him with her gaze alone. It was no secret that Mistyfoot longed to be deputy – to work with her former mentor and lead ThunderClan. But to do that, according to the warrior code, one needed to have trained an apprentice, unless StarClan decided to interfere. There had been Shrewpaw, of course, but his life had been cut short all too quickly, and Shadepool didn't know if that counted or not.

“Ashfur.”

Shadepool almost heard Mistyfoot’s heart break.

“You have shown strength and bravery in adversity,” Tinystar meowed on. “I think you would make a great mentor for Larchpaw.”

Ashfur looked shocked to be chosen. He glanced over his shoulder at Ferncloud, his littermate, who stared back with love and gratitude in her eyes. Shadepool’s heart went out to the queen – she had lost two of her kits to the horrors of starvation in the old forest, and Larchpaw was all that remained of that first litter. Had she asked Tinystar to put Larchpaw in the care of his uncle, for her own sake?

“Larchpaw! Larchpaw!” the Clan cheered. “Larchpaw!”

Ashfur recovered quickly from the shock. He strode up to Larchpaw and touched noses with his new apprentice.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, signing through the noise. His dark blue eyes flashed up, looking directly at Mistyfoot. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

Shadepool felt Nightfrost stiffen beside her. “How dare he!” he hissed. “What a snake!”

“Stop, Nightfrost,” Mistyfoot whispered. Her voice was so, so tired. “It’s not worth it.” She and Ashfur had never gotten along, and Shadepool guessed that him having an apprentice over her this time wasn’t going to change that in the least.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but what’s the plan?” demanded Swiftfoot. “Are we just going to let WindClan’s accusations stand?”

Tinystar’s ice-blue eyes turned hard. “Absolutely not,” he declared, his voice gaining strength. “I won’t let WindClan get away with threatening us. Whoever killed Onewhisker and framed us will be found, and they will be made to pay. ThunderClan is not a Clan of murderers and codebreakers, and Mudstar will not smear our name across the lakeshore while I have the lives to stop him!”

“ThunderClan!” Graystripe yowled. The whole Clan raised their voices with him: “ThunderClan! ThunderClan!”

“Graystripe, Cinderpelt, you have the patrols for today,” Tinystar declared as the cheering died down. “We senior warriors will discuss things further once we’ve rested. This meeting is adjourned!”

With that, Tinystar turned and headed into the cave he called his den, blending into the darkness immediately. The Clan broke up into gossiping groups, every nerve aflame by the shocking announcements.

Shadepool saw a few patrols begin to head out, and Ashfur and Larchpaw joined them. She prayed to StarClan that his first tour of the territory would be peaceful, but she didn’t envy having to deal with Ashfur as a mentor.

“I can’t believe it,” Rainwhisker murmured. “WindClan, hating us? After everything ThunderClan has done for them?”

“Whatever could make them think we killed Onewhisker?” Sorreltail wondered. Her eyes were wide with shock. “We’ve been friends since long before the Great Battle with BloodClan!”

“It’s got to be a ploy,” Rainwhisker suggested. His tail swished in the slush. “Mudstar’s always wanted power. He’s got it, and now he wants more.”

Sootfur was nodding along. “I mean, I did hear that rumor that he pushed Ashfoot under the tree...”

“Whoa, who from?” Sorreltail demanded.

“That ShadowClan warrior Skipnose swears he saw it...”

Shadepool’s heart felt sick. She drew away from the trio, edging closer to Nightfrost and Mistyfoot. She longed for the comfort of their companionship, not the gossip of her Clanmates – but it seemed like she couldn’t escape it, even there.

“I hope we can settle things before someone gets hurt,” Nightfrost sighed. He nudged Mistyfoot. “What’s your read on this mess?”

Mistyfoot shook her head. She seemed utterly at a loss, her dark blue eyes shimmering with misery. “I-I don’t know. I certainly didn't see it coming, that's for sure.”

Nightfrost touched his nose to her shoulder. “I wish we could talk to Crowflight,” he sighed. “There’s no way he’d lie to us.” Shadepool didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered to her. She could feel him prodding and poking between her ears.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Mistyfoot said resignedly. Her gaze looked hurt, and she was ignoring Nightfrost's prodding. “He was very quick to put borders up between us again, remember...”

Shadepool felt her tail puff with indignation. You don’t understand him at all! None of you ever did!

“I don’t think he would betray anyone, least of all us,” she meowed sternly, “and I don’t think he’d agree to be deputy if Mudstar were a murderer!” Especially if he murdered Crowflight’s own mother!

“Well, things are changing,” Mistyfoot meowed. Her gaze was even. “Our home has changed, the Clans have changed, and the cats within them have, too. We’re in danger now, and we may have to face Crowflight in battle sooner or later.” She sighed, resigned. “We have to prepare for that eventuality.”

Nightfrost sighed, and his shoulders sagged. “The Great Journey really is over...”

Shadepool dug her claws into the earth. She knew her emotions were rising, flaring up and pulsing hotly into Nightfrost’s mind. She wanted to screech at Mistyfoot, call her a mouse-brain for not trusting Crowflight – but she felt Nightfrost push back, trying to get her to understand.

Shadepool’s heart twisted, searing in her chest - she wanted them to understand her, not the other way around!

She tossed her brother a sharp glare before she got up and headed for the medicine cat’s cave. She heard Mistyfoot’s concerned mew but ignored her. Shadepool knew she would have to apologize later, and she would - but for now, she was angry and knew she would be for a time.

Crowflight has the answers, you’ll see! She thought firmly. She would see him tonight, and learn everything they needed to fix this. We won’t get out of this without him!