[TB] TWILIGHT -- Chapter 4 (Patreon)

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Shadepool slipped out of the medicine cat’s cave, keeping her tail low to prevent the dead, clinging ivy from rasping against the rock.

The day following the announcement of WindClan’s accusation had been blurry and sluggishly slow, complete with cloudy skies that gave way to a light snowfall that was still going, even now that it was past moonrise. It seemed to blanket the world in a thin white feeling of uncertainty.

Shadepool had found it hard to concentrate – so had the rest of her Clanmates, she knew, but not for the same reason. While they worried about what was to come with WindClan, and the audacity of their claims that a ThunderClan cat had killed Onewhisker and injured Barkface, Shadepool was more concerned with her meeting with Crowflight that night, and what it would unveil.

She looked into the clearing. On the other side of camp, Whitewing was perched on the fallen tree that leaned against the taller part of the stone wall, hidden between its splayed roots. It was quickly decided that if the cats couldn’t move the tree – which they couldn't, it was far too large – then they would make proper use of it. Whitewing glowed in the darkness, her gaze fixed on the camp entrance.

Shadepool kept herself low to the ground, thankful that her dark pelt would make it hard to detect her movements as she crept along the warrior’s den. The large thicket of bushes had been uprooted and curled in such a way that a warrior could see the camp entrance just by peeking their head up. Shadepool, however, knew of a blind spot.

If she were to head for the camp entrance, or even the dirtplace behind what was declared the elder’s den, she would be discovered instantly; but there existed one spot in the camp that was difficult to see from either location thanks to the shape of the hollow's walls, and this is where Shadepool headed.

Just beyond the warrior’s den, where the stone walls began to slope downward, there was a large crack. This fault in the hollow had been filled with boulders and chunks of rock over time, each one sporting a thin layer of snow and frost. Scraggly bushes that tried to grow clawed for purchase with bare branches. No cat seemed keen to use it, but Shadepool knew that the steep path led right out of camp and into the forest.

Shadepool frowned at the stones, conscious of Whitewing just around the bend. If she didn’t make the jumps properly, she might make a noise to alert the young warrior – or, worse, might fall and break her leg. It was certainly a risky maneuver.

Determination crawled up Shadepool’s pelt. I’m not going to let some rocks stop me from seeing Crowflight!

Recalling lessons from the Tribe of Rushing Water, she began to carefully pick her way up the steep slope. Her heart beat in her ears – she had to be fast, she knew, as her dark pelt would stand out against the pale, frost-covered stones in the harsh moonlight. She kept to the shadows of the largest boulders and didn’t relax until she had managed to pull herself up and out of camp.

Huffing, Shadepool felt triumph flare inside. Whitewing hadn’t even noticed! What was she doing, snoozing while on watch?

There wasn’t time to waste, though. Shadepool took off at a trot, keeping her body low and steps light, conscious of how the snow liked to hide tree roots and steep drops. She and Brackenfur had treated more sprains this leafbare than any other in ThunderClan’s history, she figured, and it was all because this new territory was far harsher than what the Clan was used to.

Shadepool avoided the usual hunting trails, opting instead to keep to one of the many Twoleg walking paths through the territory. There were certainly plenty of these, it seemed, with brightly-colored path markers stuck to trees now and again to mark them. Shadepool didn’t know why Twolegs needed such flashy markers, but perhaps they couldn’t leave their scents as well as cats did. Either way, ThunderClan patrols avoided them as much as possible.

On her way, Shadepool tried to rehearse what she might say to Crowflight. This was their first meeting since the depths of their feelings for one another had been revealed, after all, and while the circumstances weren’t perfect, Shadepool didn’t want to spend the entire night fretting about Mudstar and WindClan, did she?

Her stomach trembled. This meeting, these feelings, were against not just the warrior code, but the medicine cat code, too – medicine cats had been forbidden from falling in love since their creation at the dawn of the Clans. Healing one’s Clan and reading the world for signs from StarClan took all of one’s dedication, at least according to Brackenfur. There was no time for mates or kits or the complications they might bring.

Shadepool felt the fur along her spine rise, and not just from the leafbare chill. She pulled away from the Twoleg trail and headed downslope, placing her paws carefully to not hit any hidden drops.

She knew that if she were caught doing this, she’d certainly lose her position as a medicine cat, if not be exiled from ThunderClan completely – whether she played it as trying to gather information or not. Medicine cats weren’t supposed to interfere in Clan conflicts, and they most certainly weren’t supposed to spy.

She heard the rush of water before she saw the trees open up. The Divide, the river that made the border between ThunderClan and WindClan, was just ahead. If she followed it upstream, she would find the highlands and the Moonpool – downstream, the water tumbled into the lake.

The river ran fast and strong and cut sharply through the hills, so there were few places one could safely cross other than an old fallen tree that had gotten caught on some boulders near the lake. This tree-bridge was the easiest, safest route into WindClan territory, and it was where Shadepool headed.

She saw it quickly, shining wet in the moonlight. She didn’t know how long it had been stuck there, but the bark had long since worn off, and the wood beneath looked old. It had proved sturdy enough for cats, however, and ThunderClan markers were placed sharply at its end.

Shadepool’s heart drummed in her ears. She was no warrior, but she recognized the aggression in the fresh scent markers – they were likely laid at dusk, which was unusual, as markings were usually only refreshed at dawn.

That was in better times, Shadepool reflected. Those times were just two days ago, and that thought made her even more uncomfortable.

She shivered and peered across the water. The small patch of forest on WindClan’s side was thinner, but the strong shadows cast by the full moon's light still made it difficult to tell what was happening on the other shore. Shadepool was tempted to get onto the tree-bridge and cross, but worry stopped her – the last thing she wanted was to cause any more trouble between their Clans.

It was almost moonhigh. Crowflight could hurry, though!

She wanted to be irritated at him but found she couldn’t. He was deputy now, after all, and his new duties were likely going to make it difficult for them to meet on time every time - especially with all the heightened aggression in his Clan.

What if he just couldn’t make it?

What if he didn't want to see her?

Thorns gripped her heart, and Shadepool had to calm herself. She turned inward, and let her mind wander to the spot where Nightfrost’s thoughts and feelings nestled. He was sleeping peacefully, warmed by his Clanmates, and unaware of where she was. She sensed he was dreaming of a stroll along the lakeshore in the warmth of greenleaf, someone’s pelt brushing against his. Shadepool could almost scent them...

She pulled away, sharply. The last thing she wanted was to see her brother taking a dreamy, romantic walk with Mistyfoot, as easy as anything! Especially not while she was staring over the WindClan border, waiting for Crowflight, conscious of every rule she was breaking like they were hairs on her pelt!

There was a flicker of movement on the other side. At first, Shadepool thought it just a swaying, scrubby bush – but the lean shape detached itself from the shadows, making its way to the tree-bridge on long legs. The shape of his ears, the gleam of his eye...

Shadepool’s heart soared – Crowflight had come!

She headed for the tree-bridge, feeling warm from head to toe. Yet when she placed her paws on the tree, she saw Crowflight veer away. His tail, lit by moonlight, twitched – a signal to follow.

Confused, she obeyed.

They walked together, separated by the Divide, upstream and into the hills. Shadepool tried to catch his eye, to get any sort of communication out of Crowflight, but he seemed to be concentrating on where he was putting his paws as much as she should have been - when she stumbled over a root, she thanked StarClan she hadn't sprained anything and focused ahead instead.

The two walked until they were just about out of their own territories, Shadepool having to climb up a steeper slope than Crowflight. Thankfully, he waited for her at the top of the hill. Between them, the water cascaded down in a small tumble of little waterfalls, like a litter of kittens falling over one another. It was here that Crowflight gave her a signal to stop.

Shadepool frowned. She wanted to call out to him, but she would have to yowl over the noise of the water. Did he want to go to the Moonpool again? Was that why they had come almost halfway there? Was the Moonpool the only safe place to meet?

But Crowflight glanced one way, then the other, and to Shadepool’s shock, the WindClan cat began to cross the Divide.

For a moment, Shadepool was highly confused, expecting the water to sweep him away – and then she saw that several large, mostly flat boulders lay just beneath the surface, creating a path from one shore to the other. The hidden bridge looked incredibly treacherous, and Shadepool guessed it would only work when the water was low like this, or near-frozen.

Crowflight took each stepping-stone one at a time, careful on his paws, but after what seemed like an eternity, he was on the other side, just a whisker away from Shadepool.

They stared at one another for what seemed like the longest time – and then neither could wait. When Shadepool thrust her muzzle forward, Crowflight met her, his purr rumbling through her entire body. He slipped a paw around her shoulders, pulling her close, and Shadepool twined her tail with his tightly, not wanting to ever let go. Leafbare melted away, and they were both warmed by the greenleaf of their love.

After a long moment, they pulled away. Shadepool was breathless, staring into his dark blue eyes, but she had to ask: “When did you find those stepping-stones? I thought the tree-bridge was the only way across!”

Crowflight grimaced. “Not long ago,” he admitted. “They’re dangerous, really; but it’s better than leaving our scents all over the tree-bridge. This way, the water will make it harder to detect us.”

Shadepool felt something sour her happiness as she put together a timeline in her mind. “You found it while you were looking for Onewhisker's attacker, didn’t you?”

Crowflight did not answer, but that was response enough.

Shadepool didn’t want to let this ruin their meeting. “I’ve missed you,” she breathed, bumping her forehead against his shoulder. “Did anyone see you leave? You’re deputy now, after all...”

Crowflight’s whiskers twitched. “You’d think that would make it harder, right?” he guessed. He shrugged, and mewed, “But I can arrange patrols however I like. I put Smokewillow on watch tonight – he just had four kits; he’s not going to be able to stay up all night for a while!”

Shadepool purred in amusement.

“The only cat that knows anything about us in WindClan is Duskwhisker,” Crowflight admitted. Before Shadepool could protest, he added, “We can trust her! She’s my friend, and probably the only cat that believes in me as deputy!”

Shadepool’s fur still burned hot. She remembered Duskwhisker from the battle on the moors and her few visits to WindClan's camp – she was sharp-tongued, and a good fighter. She always seemed to cling to Crowflight in a way that made Shadepool wonder if she were born part burr.

“It was her idea to put Smokewillow on watch,” Crowflight went on. He seemed to sense that Shadepool was still unconvinced. Frankly, he mewed, “If she wanted to split us up, she would’ve given it away already.”

Shadepool looked into his eyes, and knew he was right – at the very least, he trusted Duskwhisker, so why couldn't she trust Crowflight about her? Shadepool forced herself to swallow her misgivings, even if they tasted like foul prey.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Shadepool mumbled. She touched her nose to Crowflight’s. “I just want this.”

“Me, too,” Crowflight breathed a sigh. “Oh, Shade... I wish this hadn’t gotten so complicated.”

Shadepool shifted on her paws. They really couldn’t avoid it, could they?

“ThunderClan didn’t kill Onewhisker,” Shadepool insisted. She tried meeting Crowflight’s eye, but he dodged her gaze.

Frustrated, wanting for a brief moment to bat him on the head, Shadepool hissed, “Crow! You know I’m telling the truth!”

Crowflight hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t lie about what I scented at the scene, Shadepool.”

“Then you were mistaken!”

His eyes flashed. “Tornear and Emberstep are our best trackers, and they smelled it too! Are they liars?”

Shadepool bristled, her fur growing unpleasantly hot. “I-I don’t know! I don't know anything - nobody does!”

Crowflight’s expression grew sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Shadepool,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no,” Shadepool insisted. She put a paw against his chest. The feel of his heartbeat against her pad was soothing. “I didn’t mean to insult your Clanmates, Crowflight – but we really had nothing to do with it!”

“Then how did ThunderClan scent get there?” Crowflight pressed gently. “And so much of it, too?”

He doesn’t want to think it, either, Shadepool recognized. That some Clan cat could be so cruel, so evil – such a thought was unnatural.

Emotions swelled up inside Shadepool like a wave. She shivered, feeling the cold touch her pelt, and she leaned into Crowflight. She wanted to wail loud enough to wake the spirits of StarClan, but that would be unwise.

“I love you,” she whispered instead.

“I love you, too,” Crowflight responded. She felt his chin rest against the top of her head. “You’ve risked so much for me, for WindClan...”

“Can’t you talk to Mudstar?” Shadepool wondered. “You’re deputy, now – how did that happen, anyhow? He said it was a sign, but you’ve not had an apprentice!”

Crowflight glanced away, embarrassed. “I did try to talk to him, but the evidence... He couldn’t be convinced of any other possibility. As for the whole deputy thing – he said it was a sign from StarClan that made him choose me. Can’t imagine what he could’ve seen to convince him; he always thought of me as worthless. He didn't tell me what it was.”

He grimaced. “Considering my mother and father were both deputies before me, it’s not very encouraging.”

Shadepool winced sympathetically. Deadfoot and Ashfoot, both WindClan deputies, and both dead before their time. No, she was certain that Crowflight didn’t feel very comfortable in that position, even if a sign from StarClan had indeed put him there, as Mudstar claimed.

“How is Barkface?” She wondered, nudging the topic. The romance was already thoroughly gone, and with how little time there was, it wouldn’t be coming back. She might as well try and see what she can learn.

Crowflight’s whiskers shivered. His gaze turned dark. “He was torn almost to shreds, Shadepool,” he whispered. “The infection is so bad that Ryewhisper thinks that even if he were to come out of it, he’ll never be able to speak again – as it stands, he can’t even see anymore.”

A horrible shiver ran through Shadepool’s body. She felt like retching. Who in StarClan could do such a thing?!

“I don’t think he can tell us anything about what happened. His attackers made certain of it,” Crowflight sighed. His voice was full of heavy grief. “I think the Clan is resigned to mourn him.”

Shadepool let Crowflight lean against her. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “StarClan will welcome him with open arms. He served WindClan faithfully and for many seasons.”

She wished there was more she could offer – but even if the borders were open, it was leafbare, and just after several heavy snowfalls. There was hardly anything useful anywhere, there wouldn't be any new growth for some time. Ryewhisper had likely already exhausted every option he had out on the moors.

Perhaps in StarClan, the truth can be found, Shadepool thought grimly. She told herself that at the next half-moon meeting, she would try to find a way to talk to Barkface or Onewhisker, if they would talk to her.

Their meeting had to end. They said their goodbyes, and Crowflight mentioned he would try to meet again in a few days. There was little certainty in it, but it was something to cling to as she watched him wade carefully across the stepping-stones. When he was on his side of the shore, he dipped his head to her and then sprang away into the trees, haring into the shadows.

Shadepool wanted to linger but knew she, too, was running out of time. She searched for a way to hide her scent and found the fallen branch of a pine tree. A sniff told her the snap was recent, likely during the last blizzard, and the scent of the needles and sap still clung strongly – that would have to do.

As she rolled in the pine scent, she tried to think up an excuse for her absence. She might not make it back to camp before dawn, and even if she did, Whitewing might see her. Searching for herbs was always a good excuse, but she wished she could reasonably say that she wanted to hunt by moonlight - warriors got away with that once in a while, but a medicine cat claiming such would be strange.

Her pelt prickled, and Shadepool felt a bit of sap clogged behind her ear. That would be a pain to get rid of, she knew – a small punishment for her actions.

Did I learn anything new, even? She wondered. Her stomach clenched. How could she even use what she had managed to find out? All the information seemed to do was confirm what was said at the Gathering, and that certainly didn't help matters as they stood now - even what she learned of Barkface wouldn't be useful for another half-moon, and she couldn't tell Brackenfur or he'd wonder how she knew of it at all.

As she picked her way back into the heart of ThunderClan territory, Shadepool felt for Nightfrost again. She could at least get an idea of how many warriors were awake from what he was feeling, and that might help her better plan her return.

She froze mid-step.

Nightfrost was awake, and it seemed like he’d been awake for some time. Worse still...

He wasn’t in camp.

Shadepool’s breath caught in her throat. There was nothing she could do – she felt her brother’s presence come closer and closer, following her exact scent trail until she could see the bushes downslope rustle as he walked through them.

His small, dark shape approached, his pale blue eyes drawn and tired. Shadepool swallowed. Her littermate paused at the foot of the slope, staring up at her with his shoulders hunched.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Nightfrost grumbled tiredly. “You woke me up, and I was in the middle of a good dream.”

Shadepool searched for an explanation. “I...”

Nightfrost shook his head. “Don’t give me that,” he hissed. “Did you forget how this works? I feel what you feel, too, you know.”

Shadepool’s heart was in her throat.

“You were with Crowflight!” Nightfrost snapped. The fur along his spine lifted. “What in StarClan’s name are you thinking, Shadepool?”