And the Sun Still Shines

by Agua

Summary:

Amberspots, the newest ThunderClan elder, has had a hectic life. Her passion for battle, discouraged by her brother, the medicine cat, has left her mind and body scarred. With a long life comes many woes, and now that her duties are gone, all she has to do is reminisce. Is she happy with her life? Or is it too hard to bear to live in a place of war without any treatment available for the mind?

A "Warriors" fanfiction exploring themes of battle, old age, mental illness, and traditions. Completed on 2022-08-28. First book of the "River of Time" series.

Chapter 1: Cold Earth and Freezing Ice

Summary:

Amberspots is having a trip down memory-lane during the mundane walk to the medicine cat's den.

The cold, matted earth grew stiffer everyday under Amberspots’s paws. She could feel it freeze ever so slowly as leaf-fall came to an end, making her paws ache and her heart long for the warmth of greenleaf. The clearing offered little protection against the cold. She found herself wincing with every paw step, and, as she tiptoed across the merciless ground, she wished the fresh-kill pile were closer to her den than it was. Having to walk on icy ground was getting harder everyday, and she found herself wishing more and more for the agile body that she once had. She used to be able to dash through the camp, be it rainy or cold. Now, her legs could only drag themselves weakly under her snow-soaked fur, and her paws were hanging feebly, frozen by the cold.

She stopped to lick them, and behind the aroma of frozen mud, she was surprised to find blood. Cracks oozing with red showed her just how much she neglected to use them. «I’m getting old.» With a start, she remembered how she used to run full-pelt across the clearing as a kit, chasing her brother in a game of Rabbit, or exploring the various dens until her heart was full - or until her mother would call her back. She could almost remember the familiar sight of her black-and-white pelt, as Breezetail would stand in the entrance of the nursery, yowling to her kits to come back, gazing at them warmly as they would rush to her happily. Amberspots remembered how Ravenwhisker and her would tell her all about their day, resting against her soft belly, nuzzling for warmth. She remembered how this was her favorite moment of the day - when she would rest safely in her mother’s milky sent, slowly falling asleep under her comforting purrs, her pelt still fluffed-up by the wind, her legs strong and agile, her eyes bright and happy. After a day of running around, the low glow of sunset between the nursery’s walls was always a sight for sore eyes. She always did love the nursery, but not as much as she adored the open air. She used to be a bundle of energy. Her mother would call her Rabbitkit sometimes, after she had been particularly agitated. «Look at me now», she thought miserably. «I’m slower than a half-dead mouse!»

Amberspots shook her head to escape her thoughts, yet the sadness clung to her like a tick. It must be the cold weather making her cranky, she guessed with a sigh. Like an icy claw, sorrow scraped at her heart, making her feel dizzy. She’d need some poppy seeds for that. She needed not another sleepless night - not with this weather. With one last regretful look at the fresh-kill pile, she turned around and set a course for Ravenwhisker’s den.

As she padded across the clearing, she looked around, trying to distract herself from her thought and burning pads. Immediately her gaze was dragged to a pair of apprentices chattering under a bush, their eyes full of laughter. They were huddled together, furs yellow against orange, sharing tongues under the red light of sunhigh, their eyes bright, their voices purring. Amberspots felt the chill in her heart thaw as she paused for a brief moment, lost in memories of her own apprenticeship. She remembered how she had darted to the leader without thinking about protocol, before Coldstar had stopped her with a flick of her tail, an amused purr in her throat. She had been embarrassed, but as soon as she had seen her mother’s encouraging gaze, she had let her fur rest on her shoulders, and by the time her mentor had stepped out from the crowd she was ready. She had walked to him with confidence. Her brother had been more calm, but his amber eyes had betrayed the same excitement as her own, and they had shared a proud look as ThunderClan had shouted their names into the sky. Becoming an apprentice had been her greatest achievement back then, so many moons ago, and sometimes she could not believe she had once been as young as she had been.

When she looked at the two apprentices again, she felt in them the same innocence that she once had, and was amused to realize that they, too, were talking about their training, and gossiping about their mentors and duties, as she had back then. She remembered feeling like the world was an adventure, and having dreams of fights and hunting parties, of becoming a warrior like her Clanmates before her. Back when her whole life was laid out before her, back when it made sense to hunt and fight borders.

Feeling an emotion she could not explain, Amberspots gave her chest a few licks and turned her attention away. The taste of snow on her pelt refreshed her thoughts, and she found herself breathing more calmly. In a calm pace, she crossed the few tail-lengths left between herself and the medicine cat’s den and, pushing through the few strands of grass left, let herself in.

With a relieved sigh, she sat on the warm ground, letting the heavy scents of herbs reach her nose. She was happy to note that she still remembered some of their names. Back when they were in training, Ravenwhisker often asked her to test him in his knowledge of poultrices and remedies. Amberspots could still see his huge orange eyes glowing with stress as he listed what he knew. «He used to be so nervous», she remembered with a purr. «He was so scared of failing his mentor. But look at him now!» Her brother emerged from the depths of the den with a branch in his jaws, concentrated as ever. There was no insecurity in his gaze as he expertly made a poultrice, and his mew showed no signs of doubt as he gave it to his patient. Amberspots gave a little purr, as she looked from where she patiently waited, at the cat her brother had become. He had grown - they both had grown a lot. «Not grown», she thought with a grimace, «decayed.» She stared apathetically at her ragged pelt, where scars had left pink spots in between the ginger-and-gold splotches that spotted her pelt, leaving bald spots and markings all over her frail body. «StarClan won’t wait long before they take me in their ranks.»

As her thoughts sucked her in, Amberspots was aware of nothing else but her own heartbeat, and as her pelt burned with unease, she found herself unable to let go of them. It was only when Ravenwhisker let out a purr of delight that she came back to her senses. Snapping her head upward, she saw her brother coming toward her, purring happily. He seemed as energetic as ever - almost as if he had switched personalities with his sister.

“Amberspots! he exclaimed. It’s so good to see you! Do you need more poppy seeds?
-Has StarClan warned you of my visit? Amberspots asked with a purr.
-I don’t need omens to know that you sleep badly, he joked. Last night, I heard you muttering all the way to my nest!”

Amberspots gave him a playful cuff around the ear. Purring, Ravenwhisker slammed it with a paw, and for a moment it seemed they were both kittens playing warriors together. «We were so young back then… It’s hard to believe that so much time has passed. Sometimes it feels as if it were only yesterday that we were playing Rabbit by the Highrock, waiting for Mother to call us for a meal…» She had fond memories of those times, but soon enough her somber mood had returned.

Her brother’s mew roused her from her thoughts. “What happened? Your pads are cracked!”

With a quick flick of his tail, he motioned to her to sit down, and without further comment disappeared into his den to fetch the right leaves. Grateful for his silence, the ginger she-cat took place on the soft earth, blinking slowly so her eyes would adjust to the dim lightning of the den. She could barely make out her brother’s silhouette between the rows of herbs and berries, even with the sun shining with all the strenght of sunhigh. «My vision’s not as it used to be», Amberspots thought to herself. Then she realized that she sounded like an elder. This thought occupied her for a few moments, and like a kit staring at the full moon, she felt her eyes grow wide with understanding, but before she could delve into it, she heard her brother’s paw steps coming back to her, his jaws full. Coltsfoot leaves for sore pads, she remembered reflexively.

“There,” Ravenwhisker announced, dropping his bundle at her feet. “You’ll have enough to last until newleaf,” he joked lightly, pushing the poppy seeds towards her. As she stared numbly at him, his eyes became more serious, and he asked quietly, before taking a leaf and chewing it: “Is there something bothering you? You’re awfully quiet.”

Amberspots gave a half-hearted laugh, and she was grateful that he couldn’t see her expression while he was preparing her treatment.

“It’s nothing special,” she assured him. “Just the weather nagging on these old bones. You know me.”

She tried to joke, but her words seemed unconvincing even to herself. By the look her brother gave her, she could see he wasn’t convinced either, but neither cats spoke as he treated her sore paws. Amberspots let out a sigh of relief as the herbs began to take effect, the pain giving way to a dull ache. She flexed her toes, both to test the feelings in them, and to escape further questioning.

But her brother would not be fooled so easily. His eyes were full of concern, and as soon as she met his worried gaze, she knew she could not escape the conversation any longer.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been feeling tired these past few moons”, Amberspots admitted. “Hunting is hard, and my joints are getting so stiff I can’t go on patrol anymore.”
“I can give you some comfrey root, to ease the stiffness,” Ravenwhisker proposed.

Amberspots shrugged, grateful for her brother’s kindness, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. “I don’t know… I feel like I’m simply too old to keep up with it anymore. At first, I thought it was because -”

Her voice cut off, and her throat choked back her words with a painful squeeze. Suddenly she couldn’t speak anymore, but her brother understood, and gave her a comforting nudge, his amber eyes sympathetic. Grateful for his support, she managed to find her breath, then, with a sigh, she announced:

“I think it’s time I joined the elder’s den.”

Notes:

My first fanfiction! I still haven't gotten the hang of formating, but that's alright. It's still readable. I hope you like it!

Also, this takes time before the first series, in an unspecified time. I haven't included any spoilers, so if you have only read the first series, you should be good to go.

Another thing! English is not my first language, and this is very much a first draft that I'm posting anyways. I hope this story is readable! Enjoy!!

Edit: I changed "Highrock" to "Tallrock".

Re-edit: I changed "Tallrock" to "Highrock" again. Hopefully this is the last time. Sigh.

Chapter 2: Warm Rabbits and Ginger Pelts

Summary:

Amberspots has a visit from Tigerpaw, who has some good news.

Amberspots stared at her paws, not daring to look at his eyes. What if he told her she wasn’t so old? What if he told her she was old? She did not know which answer would worry her the most, and the silence didn’t help her think. She opened her jaws, but before she had time to think of something to add, she felt a comforting lick on her shoulder. She looked up and met her brother’s relieved eyes.

“I’m glad you’re retiring,” he admitted, and as she stared at him in confusion, he explained: “I was worried you were exhausting yourself, but now you won’t anymore. These are good news!”

She bit back her answer. Seeing the joy in her brother’s face was too good a moment to spoil. Instead, she forced herself to purr.

“I’ll have you know that this cat is not going to stop hunting!” she joked, flicking her tail on his muzzle. “I’ve still got some warrior spirit left in me!”

Ravenwhisker purred, seemingly content with her response, then got to his paws. Behind the low roof of the den, the sun shone red with all the warmth of sunhigh. He stretched lazily, his toes almost reaching the wall, then turned to his sister, his eyes relaxed. He looked every bit as bright as when he had been given his medicine cat name, the faint echoes of his mentor’s praise still visible in his irises. They were the same age - yet she felt so drastically different. He looked at ease, peaceful, content… and she was bitter and unsatisfied. Yet they both had led fulfilling lives, both following the warrior code in different ways, both finding new things to be happy about every day. So why could she not be happy with the life she had? Why could she not sit back and enjoy it? «Was following the warrior code so unsatisfying to me?» she snarled to herself.

“Have you eaten?” the medicine cat asked her, startling her. “I can get you something to eat while I go tell Coldstar the good news.”
“That would be great. Thank you,” Amberspots let out gratefully. «That’s it», she added to herself, trying to convince herself. «I’m just hungry.»

Ravenwhisker gave her a last lick on the shoulder, then padded out of his den into the bright clearing. She watched him walk under the bright sun to Coldstar’s den for a while, then turned her attention away. As she distractedly made a bundle for the poppy seeds to be carried in, she couldn’t help but feel bad about her decision. Did it mean she was rejecting the life of a warrior? She felt doubts creeping into her pelt like ants, biting at her skin, making her fur burn with shame. «What would Breezetail say?» she wondered, resting her muzzle onto her paws. «Would she be upset that I’m giving up so soon?» Amberspots sighed, feeling the weight of a thousand squirrels on her chest, and pushed the poppy seeds away, before resting her face on her paws.

Suddenly, the sound of fur scratching at the entrance reached her ears, and she looked up to see the ginger apprentice she had seen before bursting into the den, her blue eyes wild. Her striped fur was fluffed-up, and she was teary-eyed from the cold, but by the way she padded excitedly in one place, Amberspots could tell she had received some good news.

“Hello, Amberspots,” she called distractedly, her voice squeaky. “Have you seen Ravenshisker?”
“He just left,” she answered. “Now, now, Tigerpaw, why don’t you tell an old she-cat the good news?”

The tabby almost broke her bones by sitting down in one go. Without breaking a sweat, she began cleaning her chest fur with frenetic licks. Seeing her so excited made the old she-cat purr. Young cats are always so energetic, Amberspots reminisced. I was like this once, too. I wish I still were… Tigerpaw was purring nonstop, and it was only after she had finished cleaning her pelt that she turned to Amberspots to fix her bright, blue gaze on her.

“Mousefoot is going to ask Coldstar to make me a warrior!” she squealed, almost shouting the last words. “I hope she says yes!!!” Without waiting for congratulations, she went on: “I hope they make me a warrior! Oh, what do you think my name is going to be? Perhaps it’s Tigerleaf, or Tigerfoot, or - oh, I hope it’s Tigerheart!!”

Tigerpaw purred loudly, barely able to contain her glee. Amberspots looked at her fondly. The small tabby reminded her of herself when she was young. She had been terrified of failing her final assessment - so terrified that she had entirely given up on ever being a warrior by the time her ceremony had started. She remembered sitting sadly in the ranks of her Clanmates, not understanding why her brother was signaling her with his tail, his eyes round with panic. Then she had understood and had joined him just as Coldstar had arrived. She remembered her vigil - alone in the cold hollow, listening to owls, her pelt covered in frost, but her body warm with the memory of loud cheers of “Amberspots” below Highrock. She had loved to finally become a warrior, to feel like her training - her life - had paid off.

“My very own warrior name! Can you believe it? I’ll finally be able to join the warriors in their den! Oh, do you think Mushroomtail is going to sleep next to me? He’s so dreamy, I think he likes me - I hope he likes me! Do you think he’ll like my warrior name? Do you think he’ll be happy I’m a warrior? I have to look my best for him… Oh, StarClan, how do I look?”

She gave herself a few more licks, her gaze now worried. Amberspots gave her a reassuring lick on the ear.

“You look perfect,” she comforted her. “I’m very proud of you, and I’m sure everyone will be, too.”

Tigerpaw gave a proud purr, and as Amberspots started grooming the few spots that she had missed, the young she-cat settled more comfortably on the warm earth, her pelt glistening in the bright sunlight. Neither cats said anything for a moment, both lost in thoughts until Amberspots was finished.

“A warrior!” Amberspots echoed. “I remember when you were made an apprentice. You were small, back then, and so full of energy that your poor mother couldn’t catch her breath!” Amberspots purred at the memory. She went on: “Some cats said to call you Squirrelpaw, but I said, mind you, “She’ll be a fine warrior one day, this one”, and I reckon I was right.” She looked at Tigerpaw with pride. “Look at yourself! You’ve grown a lot. I’m sure you’ll make a very fine warrior, little ‘paw. And one day, perhaps, a queen. But you won’t forget about old Amberspots here, now, won’t you?”

Tigerpaw beamed, purring like a thousand monsters, and gave an affectionate lick to her friend’s ear. As she was opening her mouth, the fronds at the entrance bristled, giving way to Ravenwhisker, who was carrying a huge rabbit in his jaws. He dropped it at his sister’s feet, orange eyes glistening, and gave her a nod. «Coldstar said yes», Amberspots understood, and she nodded back, feeling her somber mood return.

“Tigerpaw!” the medicine cat exclaimed. “I spoke with your mentor earlier. Congratulations on your assessment!”

Tigerpaw purred happily. Seeing the young cat so joyful cheered Amberspots a little, and she felt the pressure in her chest loosen up. As she settled more comfortably, she felt herself return to her senses, and she was able to enjoy the soft smell of the gray rabbit Ravenwhisker has brought back. She was almost drooling. They rarely caught rabbits, she thought with an impressed hum. The hunter who had caught it must be a talented one.

The medicine cat seemed to follow her thoughts and added, “Impressive catch, is it not? Young Bluepaw caught it. She’s a fine hunter, this one.”

At the mention of her sister, Tigerpaw tensed up, but she still was able to give a polite blink. They rarely got along, Amberspots thought sadly. She thought of her own bond with Raventail, and remembered their many memories together. Hopefully, she and Bluepaw would one day be good friends. «It would be a shame for them to live their whole lives like this», Amberspots thought sadly. This thought sent her mind to another, darker one: the thought that one day, they would be separated. One alive, the other in StarClan.

She suddenly felt nauseous, and the rabbit seemed to become crow-food to her nose. She couldn’t help but recoil, repulsed by the once-appetizing smell of her meal, all thoughts of eating vanishing entirely. She pushed the rabbit with her paw, trying to find a softer part to eat, but every ounce of it seemed disgustingly inedible. She shot a quick glance at the medicine cat, who seemed just as overwhelmed by the food, but for different reasons. Amberspots briefly closed her eyes, ashamed and confused. «What’s wrong with me?» She felt her pelt grow hot. «Why aren’t I hungry?»

“Would you like to share, Tigerpaw? There seems to be too much rabbit to eat, and not enough of the two of us,” Ravenwhisker offered.

Tigerpaw’s eyes lightened up, and, with a hungry gaze at the rabbit, nodded enthusiastically. She took a huge bite out of the rabbit, and chewed, relishing the soft meat. Amberspots could imagine the grassy flavor of the undergrowth exploding on her tongue, mixed with the rich taste of meat. Usually, it would have made her drool, but today, she simply felt underwhelmed by the perspective of a good meal. She watched silently as Tigerpaw had a few more bites, then pushed the rabbit to Amberspots. The old queen stared blankly at the fresh-kill, before forcing herself to take a mouthful. She chewed, waiting for the flavor to come, but it did not. Instead, she was left to chew on bland meat. Feeling a knot form in her stomach, she swallowed, and, with a conscious effort, managed to take another bite. Feeling her stomach protest as she swallowed slowly, she didn’t take another one, and gave the rabbit back to Ravenwhisker, who was waiting, licking his lips expectantly. As soon as the rabbit was in front of him, he bent down and devoured it. There was barely anything left of it when he finished it and sat down, purring, with a look of content on his features.

“You’re hungry,” Tigerpaw commented with a purr.
“It takes a lot of fresh-kill to keep these old bones up and running,” he joked, purring with satisfaction as a ray of sunshine reached his belly.
“You’re not that old,” she protested, her blue eyes indignant.

Amberspots snorted, amused at the apprentice’s defense. Like every younger cat, she was repulsed by the idea of growing old. «I don’t miss that», she thought. «It feels so much better now that I'm already there.»

“You’re still young,” Amberspots murmured with a wistful look at the sky. “When you reach a certain age, you’ll see that growing old is nothing to be scared of. It happens to every single one of us, little one. To you, too,” she added with a fond purr.
“I’m not old,” she muttered, with a hint of anticipation. “Not yet, anyway.”
“When it happens, you’ll see that there is nothing to be afraid of,” Amberspots assured her.

Tigerpaw shot her an uncertain look, then got to her paws and stretched. As she flexed her toes, she let out a squeal, and quickly retracted her foot to her chest.

“Right,” she hissed, annoyed. “I forgot about this.”
“You have a torn claw,” Ravenwhisker fretted, getting up to his paws to give it a sniff. “It looks painful. Wait here,” he ordered.
“It’s no big deal,” she called after the medicine cat, but he was already disappearing in the shadows. “It doesn’t even hurt,” she muttered with a pout.

Amberspots stifled a purr at the sight of the young cat’s sulking gaze.

“It’s true!” Tigerpaw meowed indignantly. “I wouldn’t have noticed it if Fernpaw hadn’t told me to go see Ravenwhisker. There’s no need for all this fuss, really...”

Amberspots gave her a soothing lick on the ear. The proud words of the young cat brought back memories of a night of battle, many moons ago, when she had uttered the same words as Tigerpaw. She gave an amused twitch of her whiskers. She really had changed a lot since her warrior days.

The old she-cat shook her head, purring softly.

"Now, now, young Tigerpaw, there's nothing wrong with a little fixing-up!"
"But I'm fine!" Tigerpaw exclaimed with a flick of her tail. "I'm almost a warrior, I don't need this! What's RiverClan going to think if I run off at the first scratch? I can't let them think we're cowards!" she protested, her eyes glinting with passion.

Amberspots purred. “I remember when I was your age. I was proud, too. At my first battle, I had the strength of ten warriors inside of me. These RiverClan furballs were nothing fearsome, I told myself, and so I leaped at the biggest of them. Stoneclaw was his name. He was about two times my size, and three times the power.” She shook her head, remembering how foolish she had been. “As soon as I jumped at him, he gave me a terrible bite to the shoulder. My paw went limp. I could barely feel anything at all with it.”

Tigerpaw gasped, her attention so focused on her friend that she didn’t realize that Ravenwhisker was back. Amberspots went on, pushing her bundle of poppy seeds to her side so she could lay down more comfortably. She noticed that her brother was listening, too.

“I think he expected me to run off with my tail between my legs, but it made me only more determined to win. I jumped back at him and managed to scratch his flank, but he shook me off easily. He didn’t look hurt - just annoyed. An apprentice fighting a warrior twice her size! I was no match, but I just kept fighting, even with my whole body burning,” she purred, shaking her head again. “I knew that, as long as I kept standing up again, he would not win.
“Did you win?” Tigerpaw breathed.
“Of course not. I remember Stoneclaw telling me to stay down, but I simply couldn’t let him win. I fought him until I could barely stand on my legs anymore. I think there was more blood on the grass than in me.”
“Eventually, Stoneclaw turned around and went to fight someone else. I think he felt bad for me. I looked around to find someone else to fight, eager to prove myself, again and again. I was so strong that I hadn’t even needed to see the medicine cat! I felt proud of my strength, proud of my resilience, and as I hurled myself into battle again, I felt invincible, free of my restraint, and of my fear. I felt like I could take the whole of ShadowClan and WindClan combined.”

Amberspots nodded to a bald spot on her leg. It was almost the size of a mouse. Tigerpaw stared, her eyes open wide, and behind her, Ravenwhisker shot it a brief look, before going back to his work, more focused than ever. He hated hearing this story.

“See that?” As Tigerpaw nodded, she went on: “A scratch isn’t anything, but a whole battle-worth of them- that’s another story. With treatment, they would have been easy to heal, but I was so preoccupied with not allowing myself to be weak that I weakened myself forever. Now, I have no more feeling in this leg - and unlike the shame of losing a battle, I can’t heal from this wound.”
“I’ll never feel anything in that leg again, yet if I had lost just one battle, if I had stepped out of the field for just one ointment - it could have been enough to save it.”

Tigerpaw let out a gasp. She stayed silent for a moment, as understanding dawned on her. Slowly, she nodded, her eyes glued to the pink skin that showed between the amber splotches of her fur. For a few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the rustling of the medicine cat’s fur as he finished treating Tigerpaw’s injury.

Ravenwhisker was the first to break the silence. “There we go," he meowed. "It's as good as new. And I hope that you'll come back if need be," he added with a serious look.

Tigerpaw gave a guilty nod to the tom.

As she was stretching her leg, a pelt bristling could be heard from the entrance to the den, and Bluepaw darted inside. Her blue eyes were uncharacteristically joyful.

“Tigerpaw, what are - nevermind that, just hurry, you mouse-brain! It’s our warrior ceremony!”

Notes:

I'll try to make the updates as regular as possible, but sometimes I might simply send everything as it goes.

Edit: I rewrote the end scene so it felt more natural. I hope it's better as of now.

Chapter 3: New Names and Old Memories

Summary:

While waiting for Tigerpaw's ceremony, Amberspots remembers their good times together.

Tigerpaw was the first to get up and, in a dash of ginger fur, she was gone. Bluepaw stared after her sister, gave a shrug, then followed after her. Bluepaw must be floating on a cloud, Amberspots noted. She didn’t even complain about Tigerpaw ruffling her fur. She looked at the two apprentices padding to Highrock together under the cool light. For once, they were walking side by side, their pelts brushing against each other’s. «If only they got along better.»

“Come on,” Ravenwhisker pressed, startling her. “I don’t want to miss this.”
“You’ve been saying this for years, yet you always come on time,” Amberspots pointed out as she got to her paws.
“I know, but I still don’t like to be slowed down” her brother muttered.
She gave him a playful nudge. “Who are you calling slow?”
“Who else could I be?” Ravenwhisker snorted with a playful flick of his tail, before pushing the poppy seeds to her. “Come on, slow snail, I don’t want to be late.”

Amberspots grasped the bundle and followed her brother outside of the medicine den, into the freezing wind, where sunhigh was giving way to the cold light of the afternoon. She blinked, startled by the sheer amount of sunshine that had reached her eyes, then took a deep breath, taking in the scents of the forest. She noted that most of the Clan was already in the clearing, discussing in small groups in excited meows. She gazed across the clearing, searching for Tigerpaw, and found her sitting near her sister under the Highrock, stubbornly staring stubbornly away from Bluepaw. «Oh, Tigerpaw…» She felt a twinge of sorrow for their broken bond. «If only you knew how truly little time we have in this life... I know you would appreciate it. You’re still so young. You don’t see how truly precious of a gift it is. But someday you’ll learn to love more what you have - and who you share it with.» She glanced at Ravenwhisker. Suddenly she could see how old he was - how gray his fur was and how frail his muscles were. She could hear his breath quivering with each few steps. «We’re not so young anymore.» Did he wish he still could climb on trees like he used to? «Are there things Tigerpaw will stop being able to do as well?» The thought troubled her. She couldn’t imagine her little kit as anything else than a screeching furball -much less a nostalgic elder. «Aging happens to any cat, regardless of who they are,» she reminded herself. «It’s not something to be feared. I just hope Tigerpaw won’t stop being so energetic.»

“I asked Coldstar to tell the news today,” Ravenwhisker whispered suddenly. “I figured you wouldn’t want the attention of having your own ceremony.”

Amberspots touched his shoulder with her nose, grateful for her brother’s thoughtfulness, before padding towards the rock to sit beside her Clanmates. She turned to Mousefoot and Barkfrost, the mentors of the soon-to-be warriors. They were sitting proudly next to their apprentices, gazing fondly at the two younger cats. Amberspots wondered if they were reminiscing memories of their training. «It must be bittersweet to lose such a connection,» she thought, her heart squeezing. «They’ll still be Clanmates, but it won’t ever be the same…» She felt her heart clench in pity for Breezetail, finally understanding the ache she had felt. As if to reassure her, the words her mother had pronounced despite her nostalgic expression echoed in her head. “It’s okay, little one. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

But Amberspots’s pained eyes were far from the peaceful gaze of her mother. She couldn’t help feeling as though she had lost the tiny kit Tigerpaw had been forever, and that nothing would bring her back. She stared at Tigerpaw, feeling the weight of a thousand memories crush her heart in its claws. She remembered the playfights, the badger rides, the gossiping - all the talking, sharing tongues, hunting, purring. Oh, how much she wished this time was never over.

«Amberspots, look, Mousefoot taught me the hunter’s crouch!»
«Amberspots, do you think Mushroomtail likes me?»
«Amberspots, why do the elders have to have so many ticks?»
«Amberspots, how come I can't be a warrior already?»
«Amberspots, have you ever been to Mothermouth?»
«Amberspots, do you have a mother, too?»
«Do you want to play Rabbit?»
«Can you show me battle moves?»
«What’s this bug called?»
«Do you want to share a mouse with me?»
«Do you ever miss the nursery?»

And then -

“Amberspots, how long until we can be warriors together?”

She gave a reassuring lick to the small apprentice, and she let her curl up against the bigger she-cat, her tiny head rested against her paws. With calm licks, Amberspots had gently washed the fluffed-up coat, until the only thing she could see was her small ginger flanks slowly moving up and down as she had slowly fallen asleep.

“Very soon, little one. We’re almost there.”

«And indeed we were.» An overwhelming sadness slapped her, shaking her to her core, and for a fleeting moment she thought she would scream until her lungs burned out, and as she came to her senses again, she could only feel despair - the crushing certainty that there was nothing to be done to stop this pain in her chest. She felt it become stronger and stronger, and as she stared numbly in the clearing, the sun and pale sky gave her no comfort.

She turned to her brother for comfort, and as she did so she thought about how familiar this gesture was. Her brother had always been there for her. Always - all their lives - they had been together. Someday they wouldn't be. They would be separated forever. «This always happens,» she howled internally. «This always happens! Someone dies and their loved ones are left behind! To anyone - everyone. They’ll all go through it. This mother and her kits… perhaps one of them will die of greencough, or be eaten. Perhaps they’ll go become apprentices and she won’t see them again. Perhaps she’ll die without seeing them grow up - and they’ll never be like this elder and his son.»

«But what does it matter? He’s frail, and his son is risking his life. They barely have time together anymore. He’ll become just another elder, just another burden in his proud, selfish mind, until he stops visiting and his father dies alone in his sleep. Or perhaps they’ll stay close and he’ll have to watch his only son die of blood loss, or it will be him watching his beloved father die, unable to change it.» In her chest, her lungs screamed agony, her chest aching, her mind screaming for StarClan to relieve her. «All of them - none of us are free. None of us.»

«Perhaps it would be better to never have been here. But they don’t see it, do they? They live in such bliss, while I suffer. What does any of this matter, anyway? These are just thoughts in my head - a small part of my life, and an even smaller part of the universe. Who am I to StarClan to even matter?»

Her fur crushed her bones, squeezing her trembling body until she could barely breathe, and her brother’s pelt felt cold, but it didn’t matter. «Isn’t everything insignificant, come to think about it? These cats were just like ants - dust in the wide forest, ripples in the river. They sit, they talk - but to what purpose? What does this ceremony even do? There was a time when this did not matter - and a time when this will all be forgotten. Why should we bother with it?» Ravenwhisker nudged her shoulder nimbly, but she didn’t move. She felt distant, like a StarClan warrior watching from above, yet unlike her warrior ancestors, she couldn’t feel peace. She could only feel pain, churning in her chest, burning her soul. As her storming thoughts took her higher up, the only thing she could feel was despair, so mind-blowingly deep that it felt numbing. «I can’t even br -»

“Breathe,” whispered someone in her ear.

He pushed something under her muzzle. “Eat this.” She sniffed it. Poppy seeds, for sound sleep and pain management. Her tongue dried up.

“You’ll feel better, I promise,” Ravenwhisker soothed.

At the sound of her brother’s comforting voice, she found that she could breathe. She lapped at the poppy seed, and managed to swallow it after chewing it numbly. She licked her lips, feeling her mind become blank once more as the familiar feeling of food down her throat disappeared, and she was left with cold, empty nothingness. She looked at her brother for security, trying to grab onto the sight of his jet-black fur like a falling cat to a branch. He gave her shoulder a soft lick.

“You’re doing great,” he promised. The sound of his voice made her insides settle down. She looked at her brother, a faint gleam in her eyes, asking silently for him to guide her out of this nightmare. He stared back, his round, orange eyes full of worry for his sister. “Can you walk?”

Amberspots got to her paws, shaking like a newborn kit. She stared ahead in the deserted clearing, the light hitting her eyes in comforting blindness, wind hitting her face with the smells of snow and fresh-kill. Ravenwhisker’s reached her next, and she felt his fur press against her side. Together, they walked to the elder’s den. The earth under her paws was cold and hard, but if anything it helped her shake herself. Slowly, she dragged herself to the old tree, before letting herself slump down on a nest. She stared blindly at her brother, uncertain of what to do, but she didn’t care either way. It didn’t really matter. Suddenly, worrying about what her brother expected seemed funny. She felt her shoulders release a tension she didn’t know they were holding. Those seeds work fast. As she took her first conscious breath, she realized that Ravenwhisker had settled next to her and was watching her carefully. She blinked gratefully at him. I’ve never been more grateful for the path my brother took, she thought. Who knows if anyone else would have noticed my… wait, is the ceremony still - did I miss the ceremony?

“Is the ceremony done?” she whispered. Part of her was afraid to hear the answer. What if I missed it? Oh StarClan, not Tigerpaw’s warrior ceremony!... Don’t tell me I missed it...
“I’m afraid it is,” he answered with a sympathetic wince.

Amberspots let out a pained hiss. Tigerpaw’s ceremony… I was - we were looking forward to this, it was a unique moment of her life and she wanted me to be with her. I would have loved to be there when she got her new name... It was such an incredible moment... and I missed it.

She stared at her paws, her gaze clouding with frustration. All because of my stupid thoughts. Why did I have to be like this - today of all days. Tigerpaw’s probably sad that I missed it. I hope she doesn’t feel hurt. Oh, StarClan, why now? Why did I have to be so featherbrained? She’ll be so sad… Oh, it’s all my fault… She settled her head on her paws, feeling the dull ache give way to deep, deep sadness. She let it consume her until the only thing she heard was her soft breathing, and just like, that she was asleep.

Notes:

This chapter was such a pain to write, it's why I decided to cut it in two parts to save myself the struggle. I prooobably should add some fluff to make the story lighter. I just might!
.

Chapter 4: Whispers of the Past

Summary:

Amberspots wakes up in time for the return of the dawn patrol, where she has time to chat with her favorite ginger warrior.

Amberspots woke up engulfed in darkness. She could barely hear the calm breaths of her brother under her ragged breathing. She stared wildly around the den, eyes alight with panic, before realizing that she was awake. Still groggy from the poppy seeds, she stood up carefully. It was just a dream… She stared around her and recognised the elder’s den, warm and safe, like always. This wasn't real. It was only a dream. I'm okay. Yet the echoes of her dream still twirled in her confused mind, and the faraway scents of old times seemed more real to her than the peaceful figures of her Clanmates. I need to clear my head. She stretched, relishing the softness of the ground under her claws. The den was cozy, and for a moment she dressed to set a paw outside. But as she got to her paws, she realized it was necessary. The faster I calm down, the faster I can go back to sleep. Careful not to wake Ravenwhisker up, she slipped past old Whitewhisker and her mate, Molefang, to finally reach the outside.

Immediately, a cold gush of wind slapped her in the face. Blinking, she breathed in the scents of the sleeping camp, letting a sweet sense of familiarity wash over her, and making her fur smooth down. She recognized every one of these bushes, every one of these dens. She knew who slept where, and what every cat’s last meal had been. She had been one of them for ages, sharing fresh-kill and news with them every day. Nothing would change that. With the poppy seeds’ taste still fresh in her mouth, she felt suddenly peaceful, happy, and her nightmare seemed faint in her mind. Everything was alright - the camp was peaceful, the sky was light, and she could smell the delicious aroma of mice dancing in the fresh morning wind. She breathed in the smells, feeling content, relishing this rare moment of happiness, before sitting down to give herself a good wash, hoping her good mood would last.

It's been a while since I was up in time to see the dawn patrol return, she marveled. I wonder who was in this one. Probably Mushroomtail. Young cats are always the first to wake up! I was like this, too… I always took part in the dawn patrol, and I’d wake up ages before time to make sure I was ready. She purred to herself, then realized that this time was over. She was an elder now, and she'd never go on patrol again. She shut her eyes, trying to accept the sorrow that smashed into her skull, but it only made her feel worse. She could only stand there, unmoving, as the heaviness of her realization slammed into her with the weight of a boulder.

I’m not so young anymore… An elder already… oh StarClan, is this real? I can’t believe it… She looked at her paws, feeling sudden understanding dawn onto her, and as she looked at herself she realized how old she looked. Oh no, StarClan no! I can't be so old already! But it was no use denying it. Her fur was graying, and she had lost her powerful shoulders. With a pained hiss, Amberspots looked away, horrified, and tried to calm her breaths. I’m so old. So… old.

She found herself staring down at the frostbitten earth. It was gray and colorless - lifeless beneath her pained stare. In the silent dawn, wind slashed at her flanks, pressing her patched fur to her sides, and she dared not look up in fear of finding only dark sky to find comfort in. She felt as though something was coming to get her, like she was suddenly a mouse hiding from hunters in the undergrowth. With small steps, she scrambled to a bush, and crouched to hide from the wind, her breath coming in shallow gasps. In the shadows that hid her, she seemed small, and her eyes were alight with untamed anguish.

But even the best hiding spots could not drive away the fear that she had reached her last chapter - that, in a few seasons it would all be over, and she could do nothing to stop it. I’m so close to seeing StarClan now! This all went by so fast… Oh StarClan, has it come to this already?

She hid her face between her paws, feeling a thin wail escape her muzzle. She tried to muffle it, but in the silent clearing, the sound seemed to grow even louder, until she feared every cat had heard her. Have I woken them up? She shot a quick look at the dens, pricking her ears for the sounds of annoyed grunting - but nothing. Nothing except her ragged breathing, and the whispers of the wind as it shook the treetops above.

Good. I wouldn't have wanted to wake them up. They deserve a good sleep. Amberspots took a deep breath, before getting to her paws. She hopped out of the bush, then started padding briskly towards the entrance to the camp.

As she did so, she heard meowing outside, and after a few seconds the dawn patrol emerged from the ferns, exhausted but satisfied of their morning duty. Tiger - Tigersomething was at their head, running around excitedly, as though she wasn't even sleepy after both her night vigil and the long walk around the border. She was chattering lightly with the other members of the patrol, who just stared apathetically at the young warrior, unsure of how she could keep up her energy. Amberspots purred at the sight of her friend, happy to see her so enthusiastic. This caught her attention, and she bounded happily to the elder.

“Amberspots!” she exclaimed. “Why are you up so early? I thought you were sick! I’m glad you're better! I was so worried when you weren't listening but then I thought you were sick and Ravenwhisker said you were okay! So then I was worried, but Ravenwhisker said you were okay, and he gave you poppy seeds. He always gives me poppy seeds when i’m having trouble sleeping.”

She purred loudly. “I just got back from the dawn patrol! See!” She gestured to her Clanmates with a flick of her tail. “I wanted to come but Beechstep said it was too dangerous, so I was sad. But then Coldstar said we needed young cats’ energy and she said I had some, so I was allowed to go and - where’s Bluefeather? She said she had a -”
“Tigerstorm!” hissed her sister from the entrance to the warriors’ den. “For the love of StarClan, be quiet!”

Tigerstorm stopped talking abruptly, as though she had clawed her muzzle. Amberspots turned her head, to see Bluefeather trotting briskly towards them. She nodded to Amberspots, then turned to Tigerstorm, her gaze clouded with annoyance.

“Mushroomtail says he wants to see you after you rested,” she announced.
“Really? What’s it for?” she questioned her eyes sparkling. “What if he asks to be my mate? Isn’t this exciting? I really like Mushroomtail! He's so strong and fun and do you like him? Oh, he’s so handsome! I wish he wanted us to hunt together. What if he wants to sleep next to me in the den? Do you think he wants to? Do you think he thinks I’m funny? Should I learn jokes, too?”
“I don’t know.” Bluefeather muttered, looking overwhelmed, before turning away.

Tigerstorm gazed after her, looking sad, but soon her gaze turned to irritation. “She never cared about me,” she muttered angrily. “She doesn't ever talk to me. It’s like I don't even exist.” She sighed, and Amberspots could notice a hint of pain in her gaze, but soon she had chased her irritation and her gaze shone as brightly as ever.

“Can you believe that I’m a warrior? Yesterday I slept in the warriors’ den, the nests were so warm! Can you believe I’m going to go to my first Gathering as a warrior? And I can fight in battles, and have kits and - and - This is so exciting!”

She purred loudly, quivering in excitement, and for a second she looked exactly like the young kit that had approached Amberspots seasons ago, i's small tail flicking in glee, asking for a fighting lesson - and for her favorite hunting spot - and her best battle memories - and for the reason she had such huge shoulders - and how old Coldstar was - and for a story - Amberspots purred. She might be a warrior now, but she was still the same cat. She gave her friend a friendly lick on the ear, happy to see that some things stayed the same.

“Come with me,” she proposed. “Why don’t you tell me all about it over a nice mouse?”

Tigerstorm licked her muzzle, eyes glinting. “Yes!! I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse!” Then she padded toward the fresh-kill pile to pick their morning meal. Amberspots looked at her dart toward the pile, feeling deep fondness wash over her for the tiny ginger tabby, remembering the many memories they had made together. She settled down on a dry spot, letting her pelt soak up the white rays of the sun, and closed her eyes to relish the feeling of warmth it brought her. This reminds me of the time she convinced me to show her battle moves, she thought with a purr. I couldn’t say no to her pleading eyes.

I probably should have, saying as she was only a few moons old, she admitted inwardly. But she looked so happy, trying to ‘beat’ the pinecone she had found, Amberspots remembered. Tigerkit had looked up at her proudly as she had pinned the pinecone down with her tiny paws, then asked if she had ever been to battle. Amberspots had nodded.

“Woah!” Tigerkit had forgotten the pinecone to shuffle closer. “Did you fight ShadowClan? Did they win? Did you win? Were you hurt? I bet you weren’t hurt!”
“In a battle, everyone gets hurt,” Amberspots explained. “Even the strongest warriors get hurt. It’s why a good warrior must be strong and brave, so they can protect their Clan no matter how hurt they are.”
“Even the leader?” Tigerkit looked uncertain.

“Yes, even the leader; it’s why they have nine lives,” she added.

Tigerkit’s eyes grew round with awe.

“They have nine lives?” the kitten exclaimed. “Really?”
“Yes, little one,” Amberspots answered, purring. “StarClan gives them many lives so they can protect their Clan for a very long time.”
“That’s not fair!” Tigerkit protested. “My Mother and Father protect the Clan, too, and they don’t get nine lives.”

“Amberspots! I’m back!”

The sudden meow of the young warrior roused her from her thoughts. She looked up at Tigerstorm, and immediately the scents of vole and mouse reached her nostrils. She felt her mouth water from the perspective of sinking her teeth in the juicy meat, and let a purr escape her jaws.

“Thank you,” she meowed gratefully to the young warrior, realizing how hungry she was. She bit down into her mouse, feeling the musky flavors of the forest dance on her tongue. She gulped down her first mouthful, and happily took a second one, as she listened to Tigerstorm’s story.

“... It was so scary! But then I heard Crowface tell me to move forward. I’m glad she helped me, because I would have never remembered otherwise!” She gave a bitter look to Bluefeather, who was eating a mole with Fernpaw nearby. “Bluepaw - well, Bluefeather - didn’t even flinch.”

She sighed. “She hates me, and I don’t even know why. Everytime I talk to her, she shuts me down.” She stared down at her paws. “Yesterday was different. I finally felt like I had a sister, like you and Ravenwhisker. You two are so close! Yesterday was so much fun, when we ate near the medicine den! We had a good time. I wish we would do this more! What was i saying? Oh, right, Bluefeather and me… We’re just not close. I don’t know why - yesterday, we got along so well! She didn’t even complain about me getting in her paws! I was so happy! We actually joked a little.”

A sad glint appeared in her blue gaze, but she chased it out after a few seconds.

“But that’s okay, I suppose these things happen sometimes. Besides, I’m a warrior now! I have so much to do that I have no time to worry about that!”

Amberspots gave her a comforting lick on the ear. She knew that, even though she was trying to be brave, she felt hurt by the state of her bond with Bluefeather. “Some things take more time than others,” she comforted quietly. “Perhaps if you saw things from her perspective, you would find clues as to how you two can make up,” she added, looking up at Bluefeather and Fernpaw. Tigerstorm followed her gaze.

“She looks quite fond of Fernpaw,” Tigerstorm admitted with a hint of jealousy. “She doesn’t even look annoyed!”
“Maybe there is something you could learn from their friendship,” explained Amberspots with a nod.

She looked at Tigerstorm scrunch her muzzle in search of an answer, until finally, she stammered: “She always says I’m getting in her paws. I remember that when we were training, I was always correcting her postures. She usually got mad at me when I did that. But Fernpaw wouldn’t say anything, so she would always train with her instead. Perhaps she prefers when cats mind their own business,” she concluded hesitantly. “But I’m only trying to help…” Then she sighed. “But if Bluefeather doesn’t like it, I suppose I can try to be less nosey,” she reasoned.

Amberspots nodded appreciatively. “That’s good. What else?” she prompted.

Tigerstorm hummed pensively. “Fernpaw isn’t really talkative,” she noticed. “I talk a lot. But it’s not my fault I talk so much! It’s genetic… It’s always been this way - I can’t change that,” she muttered. She looked discouraged. “What if she hates me forever?”

Amberspots gave her a reassuring lick on the ear. “Just talk to her,” she advised. “You two are warriors, now, and you need to have a good bond with each if your Clanmates if you want to fight adequately by their side.” Tigerstorm nodded silently, and the old she-cat left her think in peace while she finished her mouse. As the minutes went by, she realized that her dark thoughts were returning. She focused on the taste of mouse on her tongue, but as her meal reached its end, she had to accept them once again. She’s grown so much… She’s become a strong warrior, and I couldn’t be more proud if she were my own daughter, nor my apprentice. I just wish I could stay with her for a longer time… but it has reached its end, and soon StarClan will welcome me in its ranks… She felt cold dread make her stomach empty. I’m not ready to go yet! She shook her head, searching for a distraction.

Suddenly, she remembered that Mushroomtail had asked to see Tigerstorm that morning. It was probably time for their meeting. Thus, she stretched, before nudging Tigerstorm gently.

“It’s time for your meeting with Mushroomtail,” she reminded her.

The striped warrior sprang to her paws, her gaze sparkling. “Right! I'll tell you all about it, I promise!” she exclaimed. Then she was gone in a flash of ginger fur.

Notes:

Sorry for the wait! This chapter was emotional for me to write and I had to redo some of the work I had already done for it to make it more readable. There's more of it to come soon! Good day, Warriors fandom!

Edit: some of the punctuation is missing, but I don't really have the energy or time to change it as of now. However, if it's too hard to read, I'ok make sure to change it.

Chapter 5: Mice, Leaves, and Whiskers

Notes:

I followed the advice of a fellow fan fiction writer and decided to call she-cats 'mollies' instead of 'she-cats'. Their username is MurasakiNoAo and they wrote an awesome rewrite of Into the Wild, feel free to go check it out!!!

It's great to be back!!! I missed this story and these characters. Sorry it took so long! I had stuff going on in my personal life, but now that things are better, I'll probably be posting more regularly. I have a few chapters ready as of now so you can expect more updates next week.

And I'll absolutely finish it, in case you were wondering. It was just a long hiatus.

Another thing: the italics work really bad, so be warned! I'm sure it won't be too problematic, but just in case, I wanted to apologize. I'll get the hang of it soon!

Amberspots purred a goodbye to the young warrior as she dashed out of her sight in a flash of white snow. Cold flecks reached her nose and she sneezed to get them off. As she did so, she almost missed hearing pawsteps her way. She turned toward the sound, only to see that Bluefeather had skidded to a halt and was standing awkwardly before her, her blue gaze refusing to meet the amber eyes of her elder. The black warrior stood rigid, tracing little trails in the snow with a white paw as if she were stalling for time, opening and closing her mouth in a loss for words. Amberspots waited patiently as she awkwardly meowed a greeting, before finally looking up and stammering:

“It’s a very nice day today, isn’t it?” Her voice was shaking, and Amberspots asked herself if she was imagining the sharp breaths she was taking, as though in panic. Her eyes were wide and nervous; Bluefeather had always been nervous about speaking to people, but this time, it seemed like something else was going on. The old warrior eyed her in confusion, her heart softening, before shuffling over to the side in a silent invitation for sitting down with her.

“It is,” she answered distractedly. “The snow is particularly beautiful.” She gestured to the translucent crystals falling softly, sleepy yellows and elegant blues, slowly melting on her pelt as they piled on it. She watched them fall for a few seconds, lost in contemplation, as she noticed Bluefeather sit down next to her, her eyes still turned away. “It makes everything feel more welcoming, with these white pelts that muffle sound.”

The dark warrior nodded faintly, taking a second to admire the snow, before finally turning to Amberspots. Her blue eyes were worried, and there was a strange vulnerability in them, one that she didn't show often. Perhaps she felt nervous about coming to talk to Amberspots, she mused to herself. After all, they rarely engaged in conversations outside of training - but when they did, their chats were usually pleasant and engaging. And it was true that Bluefeather hated small talk. For a few seconds, Amberspots felt guilty about dragging her into it, but seeing as Bluefeather had been the one to initiate it, she decided to wait.

“It makes me think of RiverClan,” she meowed, voice uncertain. “They’re weaker in leaf-bare, because the river’s frozen, so they have less fish. They're also really cold, I'm sure. They have less trees than us, so they must be freezing when they go out of camp. Especially near the river. Well, I mean, it doesn’t snow near the riverbank, right? So maybe it’s hotter there. But at the same time, sand is cold, and water freezes easily, so the land nearby must be freezing… and there’s less trees near the water, so more wind. I've been thinking about it, but I can’t figure it out.”

Amberspots hummed thoughtfully. “Did you notice what ferns grow near it? They might give you the answer. Plants look a certain way because of where they take root. Long herbs grow only in WindClan, where the breeze is strong, whereas trees with large leaves grow where the sun is bright, like here, in ThunderClan.”

Bluefeather nodded. “So what the plants look like could give me a clue on the weather down the riverbank,” she murmured, half to herself. “That’s pretty clever. Ravenwhisker?” she inquired.

Amberspots purred, remembering her loud crashing from her hiding spot, and the astonished eyes of her brother as he had let out a panicked squeal. “Not exactly. I used to listen in on his training sessions with his mentor.” That was a long time ago, she added inwardly. The medicine cat who had trained Ravenwhisker had died seasons ago, and the tree she used to climb into to listen in had grown into a huge, majestic oak. And I can’t climb on trees like I used to, either. I’m much too old. She felt a wave of sadness crash into her, making her eyes misty. Time really has done me wonders. I can barely walk. Soon I’'ll be dying in my bedding, if this continues. She was suddenly aware that Bluefeather had asked her a question. Shaking herself, she looked up to the young molly, to see that she was staring at her expectantly. Amberspots strained herself to remember what the question was, and recalled having heard something in the lines of “Did plants look different when you were younger?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Trees grow and flowers bloom, but they’re the same every year.”
“But the weather’s hotter,” Bluefeather argued, her confusion obvious. “Shouldn’t it have changed what they look like?”
Amberspots hummed. “I suppose changing is a slow process, if they do change.”

Bluefeather stayed silent for a moment.

“Why do they change? Are they like us? Do they need food and warmth? Is this why they change, to be healthier? I mean, plants don’t eat, or drink, but…” She trailed off, seemingly confused.

Amberspots shrugged apologetically. The young warrior scrunched her face, deep in thought, as she stood up slowly before meowing a goodbye. She trotted away, shaking her dark pelt from the snow that had settled on it, leaving the old queen by herself in the snowy clearing. The amber molly felt disappointment bite at her fur, surprised and a little saddened that Bluefeather had left so soon, but she said nothing of it and simply waved her goodbye with her tail. Then, as she was alone again, she was left to her thoughts, and started to wonder why the quiet warrior had come ahead to talk to her. Usually, she would come to Amberspots for advice or for news, but this was neither of those things. They had talked about herbs, a subject that was quite foreign to her, and while she knew that Bluefeather had a keen interest in the forest, she did not bring it up often in Amberspots’ presence. She had suspected that Bluefeather had only been searching for something to talk about and fill the silence, and as so she had been waiting for an announcement or a question that would explain her sudden companionship, but she had left before they could talk more. Perhaps she forgot what she came here for, she guessed. Or perhaps I’m reading too much into this and she simply wanted to have a chat. She is allowed to make friends. Well - if being friends with an elder is even something younger cats would consider. Not that it was wrong - it’s not as if they were to be mates, in which case an age gap like this one would be catastrophic. Being friends was fine: cats were allowed to be friends with someone older than them. It’s just that she never saw it for herself. In ThunderClan, most cats tended to stay with their own age groups - apprentices with apprentices, kits with kits, warriors with warriors.

And the elders… most of them did not have friends at all, with there being so few of them in the den to talk to. Sometimes, there were only one or two elders in the Clan, or not at all, and with the age policy that the Clan seemed to have unconsciously adopted, there was not much they could do about it. Of course, they could always stay friends with the younger cats - but to be honest, it was mostly one-sided on the elders’ part. She never really thought about how isolated they were - how they rarely received visitors other than grumbling apprentices here only for tick-picking, or the medicine cat to keep them alive. None of their old friends would come visit, and young cats rarely socialized with elders of their own free will. Sometimes, it was almost as though they were part of a different Clan; forgotten, or treated like they were fragile and kitlike. As though being an elder meant becoming someone else, taking on a new identity.

She let her head rest on her paws, trying to ignore the cold wind that floated through her limbs. She felt as though she had swallowed a stone, and her whole body was reacting in horror. Her thoughts felt awful - her feelings were too much. She would have liked to shrug them off, but she had no energy for it. Instead, she kept thinking, hoping that perhaps she would find peace afterwards. She thought about how miserable her odds of making friends again were, of how unfair this all was. Of how many elders she had known, and had failed to understand, to respect as much as she should have. She remembered the slight wince of a yellow molly, the apathetic gaze of a red tom, the brisk silence of the elders’ den, the strange feeling she used to have as a young warrior, when she walked next to the elders’ den without entering, feeling as though this wasn't what a warrior would do; this isn’t my duty anymore. I don’t need to come here, I shouldn't go in. It isn’t a warrior is expected to do. She remembered how she had missed the friends she had made during her apprenticeship, how their eyes used to light up when she entered their den. She wondered if it hurt, knowing that apprentices would one day stop coming to visit them, that they were only there because they had to, that no matter how friendly or eager they were, there would come a time when it wouldn’t be appropriate anymore.

Warriors never visited elders, and although some apprentices genuinely enjoyed spending time with them, that in the end, it would be too childish, too sentimental - warriors didn’t need to go to the elders, only apprentices do. And warriors saw elders as cats you saw for the occasional reassurance, or for information of long ago. Never would they simply go to them because they wanted to. It was only for a visit, a trip down memory lane, a short hello - it was even called a visit. It was never called “hanging out”, or simply “Cloudpool and I are going to Sunningrocks”, it was almost as though it wasn’t just spending the afternoon with a Clanmate. “Taking care of”, “paying a visit”, almost like it was a responsibility. Was it even a pleasant one? It felt like it wasn't, seeing as it was so rare to see warriors visiting the rider's den.

It was strange, to be so isolated from one’s own Clanmates, and frankly, it served no purpose, made no sense. Surely the warrior code did not approve of such a thing? Why was it this way then? They did live in the same clearing. They even used the same dirtplace. But sometimes it felt like plains and mountains separated them, and the knowledge felt dark and heavy to her. She repressed a frantic snarl, remembering familiar faces from older times. Stoneburrow, Bloomhen, Rabbitclaw. Yellowstar, Kindberry, Blueheart. Staggerlily. Cricketfang. Forgive me, my friends, for how I ignored you. How I stopped coming by, and how I stopped seeing you as my friends. I should have been there with you, not left you behind like a rabbit’s droppings the second I wasn’t bound by the warrior code anymore.The weight of guilt was a big one, pushing down on her like a boulder, and she struggled to breathe, as the faces of her friends wavered around in her mind, almost taunting her.

She had never noticed how sad their eyes were, nor how hurt they looked when a former apprentice would pass by the den without even as much as a hello. She should have noticed, she should have been there, yet she had failed, and now they were gone, and she would be gone, and everyone else would go, too. And it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t pretty, but since when was this fair? Nothing made sense - the Clan was a ridiculous parody of a peaceful home, the warrior code was nothing but words that did nothing to stop the horrors she had seen and the deaths she had witnessed from happening, and the camp life was ridiculous as it was confining. Everything felt ridiculous, everything felt horrible, and for a moment, Amberspots wished she could simply walk away, and go somewhere where there would be none of this terrible loneliness hanging above her head, looming closer everyday, but it was but a thought.

She felt the thought break apart, almost physically; as though an egg had cracked inside of her head; and instead of a bird emerging, a fresh wave of pain darted from it, howling loudly, crashing into her sides and her face like the biting wind of leaf-fall. And it hurt, it hurt so bad, just as much as when her flank had been sliced open, but this time there was nobody to treat her wound. There were no Clanmates to protect, no honor in her suffering to make her purr under the pain and embrace its scorching bite. She was alone, an old molly covered in snow shivering under a white sun, frail and weak, head bowed and eyes misty, remembering things she wished she was able to atone for but she wasn’t.

Her Clanmates passed her, unaware, uncaring, bowing their heads in respect or meowing a brief hello before returning to their duties. She didn’t respond, but after some time, she decided she should go someplace else. She hadn’t quite noticed it, but it was morning already, and cats were swarming around the deputy to receive their duties for the day. She did not want to disturb them, and so, as much as it exhausted her to move, she steeled herself and dragged herself to her paws. Her head was spinning, but luckily the ground was sturdy enough so that she could steady herself. Carefully, she slid away to the elders’ den, and rolled herself into her nest. Ravenwhisker had left, unsurprisingly, and even though she missed his warmth already, she had no energy to spare in bitterness. She closed her eyes, and deep sleep bloomed into her mind like the fastest of snowdrops.

Chapter 6: Sky Blues and Snow Whites

She woke up when her aching bones became too loud to ignore, and as she stretched slowly to dissipate the pain, and it all came to her mind; Tigerstorm and the message from Mushroomtail; memories of her mother; Bluefeather and her unexpected friendliness; sitting in despair in the middle of the clearing; dragging herself up miraculously; the deep sleep that had consumed her as soon as she had settled down. Her bedding was cold and damp from the snow that had fallen from her fur, and it smelled sharp and uninviting. She didn’t have the strength to leave it, however, and decided to fall asleep again to avoid having to change it. She noted distractedly that it wasn’t her duty to clean up her nest anymore - someone else would do it for her, an apprentice or a punished warrior. She felt bad about it, but she was too exhausted to give it much thought. She wanted to take a walk, or speak with Ravenwhisker, to clear her head up again, but the thought felt unappealing.

She stayed in this state for a long time, unsure if she was asleep or awake, her thoughts fuzzy and her body numb. The pain in her joints felt almost unreal, and for a minute, she felt utterly baffled at whether this was even her body or not. She looked around, discomfort blooming in her tired mind, and found that she couldn’t understand why she was here, or who she was, or what had happened yesterday. She felt far away, as though she were already with StarClan, and she was looking down at herself. She was without time, unable to fix her attention on specific questions or information, as though her brain had become gooey and useless. The more she thought about it, the more she felt panicked; something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Cats weren’t supposed to leave their bodies like this, or forget everything about their lives, or to feel a horrible throbbing in their chest as their heart screamed at them to stop this nonsense and get back to normal already. But her mind felt relaxed. It was unaware of everything, couldn’t remember why she had been upset in the first place, and it was happy like this. It didn’t want to go back to her body.

She looked at her paws, flexing her claws, strangely aware of how soft her fur was. She liked their color. They looked nice. But they had looked different when she was a kitten, though. She couldn’t remember much about the past, actually - or much at all. She couldn’t remember her mother’s name, or what the Clan was called. Not even the color of the forest, or what her brother smelled like.

She panicked, but her instincts kicked in. If she couldn’t remember, she would have to find clues. She didn't know how long this would stay, but there was no way she would simply have no background knowledge anymore, so she pushed herself to think. She strained herself to make a connection, and it felt like she was heaving the biggest boulder on her back, but finally she did it. I must have been a kitten: my name was Amberkit back then. It left her surprised; the thought felt as though it was intruding on her peace. For a second, she felt nothing, then, she came back to her senses, or rather crashed back into them. It felt bad and painful and confusing and scary. She didn’t want to thunk about this again, she wanted to forget. She shut her eyes and, ignoring the sunrays that were drawing warm patterns on her flank, she let herself fall asleep again.

This time, it was the soft nudge of a paw that woke her up. She recognized the scent of Tigerstorm, and let out a purr as she made out a faint “Amberspots, wake up!”. She blinked away the sleep and looked over her shoulder; Tigerstorm’s huge blue eyes stared back at her, happy as usual. The old queen heaved herself up to greet her; as she was letting out a greeting, she noticed that the young molly was carrying fresh moss in her jaws. She eyed her in surprise, then stepped aside with a small purr, and settled to watch her friend rearrange her bedding.

“You know, I can do that myself,” she purred. “No need to bother yourself, little one.”

Tigerstorm turned back to face her, her eyes glinting in the cold light.

“But I never had the chance to do it! You weren’t an elder until yesterday,” she protested. “It's so much fun, I have the best moss, pleeeaaase?”

Amberspots let out an amused purr, then nodded good-naturedly. She gave herself a wash as she watched the ginger tabby make her nest for her. It felt strange to have someone else make a nest for her, and she wasn't sure she liked it. Strangely, it felt different to make a nest than to be made one; back when she was still an apprentice, she had made her fair share of bedding for the elders, and she had felt proud to cater to the most respected members of the Clan. Now, however, she found that she disliked having someone serving her like this. Of course, this was Tigerstorm, it was different. But she couldn’t help it; her heart squeezed uncomfortably in her chest, and it stopped only when the molly had finally looked up at her proudly.

“There you go! A fresh bed, just for you!” Tigerstorm exclaimed. “Do you like it? I fetched the softest moss I could find, it was at the Great Sycamore, it was quite a walk!!! I had fun, I even saw an owl! They’re really cute, except when they’re flying towards you, because that’s scary.” She shuddered. “Mushroomtail told me this story about a kitten called Owleyes that had all the powers of the night, and he became so powerful and scary that the old leaders had to chase him away. Does that exist for real? I think he was making it up. I hope it wasn’t, because it was really scary. I wouldn’t want to meet him in person.”
“Of course it’s not true, little one,” she reassured Tigerstorm with a slight touch of her tail. “And if it were, I would protect you,” she added.

Tigerstorm purred. “No, I would protect you! I can! I’m a warrior now,” she exclaimed, puffing out her chest. “I wouldn’t let you get hurt, ever!”

The old warrior felt a strange stirring in her chest, like an ache or a splinter, but she ignored it. She looked at Tigerstorm, and realized that it was true. She was every bit the warrior s he was claiming to be, she was strong and brave and noble. She would be a great asset to the Clan, and Amberspots felt a spur of pride bubble in her chest. Yet some other part of her heart felt hurt and useless in spite of this; she couldn’t protect her anymore, and soon she would go into danger and have to fight for her life and for her Clanmates, and even though she knew it was expected and right and noble, she wished that Tigerstorm were still the kit she had nursed and played with, that she could protect her, that she were the one to leap into danger while her kit was safe and sound in camp. She would give anything just to have Tigerstorm be safe and innocent again, and not the strong, savvy cat she saw before her.

She would not have minded fighting any battle, suffering any injury, simply to protect her, but now that the molly would be in battle, too, pain and war suddenly felt like too much - now that the ferocity of protection that had allowed her to harden herself was gone; now, she saw battles for what they really were, for what they could do to her kit. They hadn’t been scary, or brutal, or wrong, when all that had mattered was to keep her family and her Clan safe; but now, they were. She was scared of Tigerstorm being hurt, of seeing her come back from battle with her gaze blank and her legs shaking, of losing her friend to an unjust battle, of seeing her happy, bright Tigerstorm be soiled with the blood of innocent cats and the guilt of fighting for the wrong reasons. Suddenly, she was seeing the life of the Clan through someone else’s eyes, and it struck her how hard it was to keep going like this. How harsh it could be, and how unforgiving.

And she wished nothing else but to protect her dear kit from this life, but she could do nothing. She wasn’t a warrior anymore, she wasn’t strong, she could never protect her like she had before. And it hurt. It felt like she had failed, like she had done something wrong. Shame bit at her muzzle like mosquitoes on a rainy day, but she shook it off, because she didn’t want Tigerstorm to worry, much less to feel bad or upset. She looked at her friend and, pushing herself to forget every sad thought she had had, tried to focus on how you Tigerstorm looked. This somewhat made her own thoughts worse, and she felt herself become numb, lose herself more. It felt as though she didn’t care anymore, like she was just sort of there, and happy about things. She purred, looking at her friend again, but before she became completely crazy and lost track of everything again, she snapped herself back to reality by standing up, and the pain of her joints jolted her back to her senses.

Tigerstorm was chatting happily, talking about birds and greenleaf and Mushroomtail. Amberspots couldn’t find it in herself to pay attention, her mind still whirling, but she still caught a few words, and found that she had somewhat understood what the young molly had been saying once she was finished. He asked her if she’d like to go on hunting patrols together. She purred in congratulations and the young cat looked away in embarrassment, although her eyes shone with happiness.

“It’s just hunting,” she muttered, tracing lines in the ground with a paw, unable to hide the tiny purr that rumbled in her throat. “It’s not like he asked me to be his mate or something.” Then she looked at her friend, her gaze bright. “Not that I wouldn’t like that, he’s so awesome and kind and funny and…”

Amberspots didn’t quite understand everything the molly had said, still apathetic despite her best efforts to be supportive and affectionate towards her friend, but it was still abundantly clear that Tigerstorm was thrilled with the idea of growing closer to the young tom. It’s not like it was surprising - she had been ears over tail for him for moons. She still remembered the first time she had caught this special look in her protégée’s eyes. They were on a hunting patrol, with Tigerstorm’s mentor leading the group; the ginger apprentice had been following Mousefoot like a shadow, her shoulders clenched and her eyes low. Her nervousness could be smelled at the end of the line, where Amberspots had been walking alongside Beechstep and Mushroomtail, who would be made a warrior that night. Mushroompaw was nervous, too, and he had related to the young molly’s fears; so he had shyly approached her, and had made a joke about what he had thought his warrior name was going to be. The young molly had laughed despite her nervousness, making Mushroompaw beam with pride. They had been close ever since then, exchanging glances when they thought nobody was looking, and purring when they were together. It was obvious to everyone that they would one day become mates, and Amberspots could only agree with them that they would make a good pair.

As she spoke with excitement of their upcoming outing, Amberspots caught sight of a light pelt walking outside in the clearing. She recognized Mushroomtail, and as she let her eyes drift towards him for an instant, she noticed he had heard Tigerstorm’s voice, and she almost let out a purr when she saw how delighted he seemed to hear her voice. He looked completely lovesick. Then the young tom’s eyes locked with Amberspots’s, and he looked down in embarrassment, then nodded to her in greeting, then looked down again, before he went back to carrying the squirrel he had chosen towards the nursery. The elder stifled a purr. It's always nice to see young cats in love, she thought. Fresh love, so nervous and honest, between two cats set on giving the best of themselves, loving so fully. Older cats tend to be more guarded, but young cats… they give it so freely. They make more mistakes this way, though. Perhaps it’s what hardens their innocence eventually. But when they do finally give their trust, it’s all the more meaningful and blissful. Not to say that young cats do not know real, powerful, trusting love. These two, for example, seem to be a good match. But what do I know? I've never taken a mate.

Something stung her, from deep inside of her mind; Amberspots felt her head spin, and reflexively reached out for the bundle of poppy seeds that Ravenwhisker had given her. It was still there, by the side of the den, unbothered by the wind and the rain. It wasn't even soggy, she thought in marvel. It was as though it had been spared the violence of the storm. Not like me, she thought with a snarl. I can’t even be happy for my friend properly. I have to be sad and ruin the mood. For a moment, she wished she could simply purr and be happy for her friend like a proper Clan cat should be, but she took them nevertheless. It wasn’t like she had any other choice - and she had grown since the time she would refuse treatment.

She swallowed the tiny seeds and turned back to Tigerstorm, letting out a raspy purr as she saw how bright and lively her blue eyes were. Tigerstorm’s always so cheerful, she thought, amazed. She never lets her hopes down.

Amberspots gave her an affectionate lick on the ear, before sitting down, suddenly feeling exhausted. The softness of her bedding surprised her, and she thanked the ginger warrior with a grateful dip of the head. Tigerstorm blinked happily. She was almost vibrating.

“Do you like it? I’m so happy I made this, I missed making beddings! Is it comfortable? It looks comfortable? What time is it? Should I be on my way? Is Bluefeather still awake?”

Amberspots purred in reassurance. “She’s in the warriors’ den,” she answered. “Mushroomtail will be waiting for you in the forest, at sunhigh,” she continued, remembering that she had mentioned it earlier. She wanted to add something, but she was cut off by her own yawn.

“I’m sorry,” Tigerstorm meowed. “I didn’t mean to take so much of your time. I'll let you rest,” she concluded. “I'll tell you all about the date, I promise.”

Then she scampered off, and Amberspots looked at her ginger fur fading in the white light if the camp. The old molly watched her leave, feeling pride bubble in her chest. She’s so happy and energetic. She’ll be a good asset to the Clan. She didn’t dare ask herself what that statement said of herself, and letting her head settle on her paws, she closed her eyes and let herself relax once again.

Chapter 7: Softness of Moss

Notes:

I'm sort of giving up on having proper HTML on this work, since it's really a pain to make it work. I'm sorry, I hope it's not too hard to read! Enjoy!

She did not fall asleep again; although she was very much willing to escape her thoughts with dreams of catching mice, something was keeping her up, something strange that stirred in her belly and would not quiet down. It was as though her body was telling her to stay awake. She complied, because in all her moons of battle, she had learned to listen to her instincts and to rely on the bristling of her fur and the twitching of her whiskers, for they would often be right, and tell her something she had failed to realize yet. Sometimes, they would tell her if an enemy was too much for her; or sense when it was the right moment to strike. Often, the feeling of dread would haunt her for nights, and would barely disappear after she woke up and received her tasks for the day. She would not understand what it meant back then; but now, she knew that it was telling her that her body was tired, and afraid of jumping head-first into reckless battles again. It was telling her what she was too proud to admit: young Amberspots did not like to rest, for she felt ashamed of herself when she did. She thought often that to not show up for battle was as good as losing it, and the feeling of shame would nag her until she gave in and crept out of the medicine cat's den to follow her Clanmates to battle.

It did prove to be a good thing, sometimes: Amberspots would be coming late, and she would be able to call for reinforcements if need be. But more often than not, it proved to be a foolish idea; she would be wounded and weak, and had no other advantage than surprise at her side. She would jump on the enemy, hissing and snarling, and knock them over; sometimes, it would suffice for the enemy Clan to think that reinforcements were coming, and they would all leave. Her Clanmates would be relieved, if she had helped them win a hard fight; or confused as to why she was out there instead of resting. Sometimes, she wondered it it was right for her to do so. It felt like she was intruding on someone else's battle, and she was not sure if the warrior code said something about barging in on the battlefield when your help wasn't needed. She would ask herself if tbhey would be insulted, and think that she wanted to play the hero, or have the honor and glory of chasing the enemy away without even being a part of the battle. It wasn't true, because, to an unlikely level, Amberspots just liked to throw herself in a battle and fight everything she saw. But it was true that it was honor that motivated her to an extent; she felt like it was a shameful thing to miss out on a battle, and she didn't want to be a coward.

She would be lying if she said that she had never been thrilled with the perspective of battle, of playing hero: like all cats who had never been in a battle, she had been glorifying it. Kits would play battle, but in their battles, nobody was hurt, nobody was in pain. Racking someone's nose wasn't something that sent a shiver down your spine, or felt instinctively wrong and backwards; and hearing screams of war and pain around you wasn't horrible and panic-inducing, it was the music of battle and the sound of heroism itself. Everything she would come to sober up to, she had once dreamed about, and thought of as a wonderful thing. She had been told that battle was hard and awful, but she had never really understood the idea. She only saw how warriors would come back and be showered with respect and admiration; how to fight was the greatest honor and the most brave thing a cat could do, and the wounds weren't painful in her mind, they felt great, for they were the proof that you had fought for your Clan. Of course, she knew from experience how much torn claws hurt, and how playfights that turned ugly would be agressive and leave her with aches all over; but she had thought that there would be something about battle that would make the pain disappear. She remembered she used to think that honor was a painkiller, and that the context of a battle - the buildup, the drama, the motivation - would make fighting beautiful and safe, a fantasy of glory and honor that would come to life eventually.

Needless to say, she had been wrong. A torn claw always hurts, no matter what gave it to you, and so did the battle sounds she received. She had sobered up, and her dreams of pride and honor had changed into something else, as fear and anxiety slowly crept inside her conception of battle. Something that made her risk herself in battle, and fight until her legs stopped moving, and barge in unannounced to fight every fight and suffer every wound. She would come to fight even when she was already wounded; her Clanmates came to anticipate it, and it wasn't as much of a surprise anymore after a few moons, but at that point, the medicine cat at the time had already given her a speech about letting her wounds heal before she was more scarred flesh than cat. But she was hot-headed, and she would sneak out and fight anyways, because there was something in her pelt that tugged and bit and would only calm when she was out there, defending her Clanmates, being on the front lines for them, willing to lay down her life for them. She would rush and knock over opponents when they were winning against her friends, daring them to fight her instead, and her ears would be pricked for a scream of a familiar voice. She would fight and claw and kick until there was no cat left to fight, until she heard victorious howls through the forest claiming ThunderClan's win for everyone to hear.

She kept fighting and fighting, and one day, Coldstar invited her to her den and -

She did not want to remember any more. She shook her pelt from the moss that had clung to it, and looked at it for a little too long. She felt a strange sadness at the thought of discarding the moss. It had barely had the chance of proving itself before it got ripped off the nest. Something akin to compassion fluttered in her chest, and she rolled it in a ball and placed it carefully next to her nest. Perhaps there would be kits in need of a moss ball that would take it. As long as it's good for something. Then she gave herself a wash, feeling her bones ache from the stretching. She looked at the moss ball as she finished her wash and padded towards the entrance of her den to feel the light on her pelt. Hopefully it can have another chance at this. Then she padded out of the den.

Her thoughts were still with the moss ball, even with the agitation of the camp surrounding her, and now that she was away from it, she felt a little ashamed at her behavior. She didn't know what came upon her, or why she had felt so strongly for scraps of moss. Maybe I'm crazy, she thought sternly. I wouldn't be surprised. A moss ball... Compassion was supposed to be something one felt for kits, or for prey; an honourable emotion that made warriors fight for their homes all the more strongly. And there she was, feeling sympathy for a moss ball. Curling it in a ball so it wouldn't feel dejected. Wishing it good luck and hoping it would have a good use. That was ridiculous - and yet she hadn't stopped herself from acting on it. What a warrior I am.

She remembered she wasn't one only after she had thought it. She felt something cold weight on her belly, and for a moment, she wondered if she had drank from the frozen puddle again, for the bite of frost felt so very real and so very icy in her throat and her stomach. She licked her lips, but there was only the taste of meat under her tongue. She stretched, hoping to dissolve the ice, then made her way towards the medicine cat's den.

Ravenwhisker was awake, and she caught a glimpse of his black fur at the back of the den. He was probably stocking herbs, she guessed from the way he was muttering. He always recited the names of what he was holding when he organized his den. He had told her it was a way of focusing on his task, and from what she had seen, it worked wonders. She did not dare to disturb him and went to sit somewhere away.

It turned out to be useless, since Ravenwhisker had already seen her and was walking towards her. He seemed happy, and it didn't take long before Amberspots felt herself be a little more joyous.

-Back so soon? he called, his eyes glinting with his usual humour. Are you considering becoming a medicine cat? he joked, touching his nose to her ear in greeting. Maybe I should make you my apprentice.
-You wish, she retorted. All this food the apprentices bring would make me soft, she teased, nudging his fat belly with a paw.

He opened his eyes wide in mock astonishment, unable to repress the purr that was growing in his throat.

-I'll have you know I walk plenty when I fetch herbs, he answered, sitting down in front of her. Have you ever walked over the whole territory in one day? It's nothing you warriors can do, he added in a purr.

Amberspots could not repress a slight flinch at the word. I'm not a warrior anymore. The medicine cat must have understood that, too, from the way his eyes glinted apologetically. She gave a flick of her ear to dismiss it. There was no use in dwelling on the reality. She let out a purr instead, her voice hoarse but still cheerful. This was their joke, their usual banter from the day they had started training. He was a medicine cat she was a warrior, and they had always teased each other about it. It would have been more painful to stop doing it than to call herself by her old title again. And her brother would enjoy that it kept going. So, she answered, with a bit of her usual energy, trying to somehow channel the energy of the laughter that would occur to make her joking expression realistic. There's no way I'm letting him down on this one.

-Pfah! Try it doing it with a mouthful of rabbit, she teased. You medicine cats are too soft, you think everything's exercise.

Ravenswood purred, but his eyes were distracted. She saw that he was eyeing her like she was his patient, glancing somewhat critically over her skinny shoulders. She tilted her head in confusion, and he looked back at her, but when he did, he wasn't locking eyes as much as he was staring at something in her eyes. She didn't know what he was doing it for, but she guessed it wasn't just for the sake of convenience. He wasn't the type to do check-ups during family time. Whatever it was just have him concerned.

She decided to approach the subject lightly, joking instead of asking him what was wrong. The seriousness of his gaze left her nervous, and while she had no fear of her brother, she never knew what to tell medicine cats when they were studying her. She preferred to distract them enough so they would let her go, or distract herself from the fear of missing out on the next battles. Today was different.

-What? Have I got something in my ears? Ticks, perhaps? she meowed, scratching her head for good measure.

She looked back at her brother, and saw his sorrowful gaze. She held it, trying to read his mind, then just waiting when it failed.

-You haven't been well, he admitted honestly. I'm worried about you.

He hesitated for a moment, then added:

-I know you haven't been eating properly for moons, and you haven't slept soundly for at least a year. I'm worried, and I don't know how I can fix it. I'm not… I haven't seen you like this since Twilightpaw died, it's… I'm surprised. I've never…

He put his tail around Amberspots' shoulders and gently guided her towards the exit, where he sat them down on a soft grass patch that was untouched by the snow.

-It's not something I've seen in a long time. Remember that time when there was redcough in the camp? We were apprentices back then. After Bloomhen's kits became sick, and we lost all hope of their recovery, my mentor asked me to watch over the mother and see that she was feeling well. I didn't understand why she would need treatment, but I still watched over her like he had told me. I didn't understand why, until… well… she just started to fade away. It felt like she had turned to ashes. She wouldn't speak, she refused to ear, and she stayed in her nest all day. Sometimes, she forgot to wash, and it didn't seem to bother her. Nothing seemed to bother her anymore. And her eyes were sullen and so full of grief... We would try and talk to her, but she would barely seem to notice we were here. I asked my mentor about it, told him she was sick. I thought she had caught redcough from her kits, but my mentor told me she had caught something else from them, something far, far worse.
-What was it? Amberspots asked.

She had not anticipated that she would be so caught-up in his tale, but something about what he was saying resonated within her and made her feel strangely welcomed. Like something in the way he was describing Bloomhen was… right.

-He told me she had a sickness. One that he did not know she would even recover from. It has no name, but it's very common in queens who lost their kits. Sometimes, in warriors who see violent battles, or in apprentices who struggle in their training. You catch it, he said, when you lose the will to live; it's like a smoke in your lungs, or a fire in your blood. A bit like poison. He said that horror and grief can make a cat more prone to catching the illness, and that without the right treatment, their lungs will continue to hurt from it until from sadness they will die.

Amberspots looked at Ravenwhisker, willing him to continue. She saw that he was expecting her to react. Panic, or cry, perhaps. But she felt no fear. Instead, she liked to hear about Bloomhen. Something in the tale made her feel strangely at home. Like Bloomhen had understood what Amberspots was going through. She felt happy - her brother, her best friend was putting into words how she had been feeling, and she felt a flash of giddiness at the thought that perhaps he would be able to help her.

She noticed that Ravenwhisker wasn't speaking anymore. She looked up, and saw that he was shaking. He seemed like he was barely holding himself together. He sighed and continued.

-He said that we would need to watch over her until she was better. So I visited her everyday, but it didn't get better. I thought that, when her kits died, she would grieve and everything would be over, but even after a moon, she was not showing any signs of recovery. I asked my mentor about it, told her about her sunken eyes and her harsh breath. He said that we would need to remove the smoke from her lungs, and to cool down her body: the sadness had stayed stuck in her lungs and would never go away unless we cleansed them. He gave me poultices and herbs to try on her, and we tried everything, until something seemed to work. Her eyes were brighter and her ears were cleaner. We thought that it was the sign that the smoke had been cleansed, and that her lungs were functioning properly. So we let her go with a bundle of poppy seeds for her grief, and she went back to her position in the warrior's den. I went to talk to her everyday still, to see that she had taken her poppy seeds and that she was doing well. She spoke to me, but there was something in her eyes…

He inhaled sharply.

-One day, Bloomhen disappeared, and we found her near the Thunderpath. We… we never knew for sure what had happened, but…

He looked at his sister with horror in his eyes.

-Our treatment didn't work. Our best guesses, our herbs - nothing. This sickness, it's deadly, it's beyond anything we know of so far. We have to get you better, and try to figure it out, I… I don't want to find you like this, too…

She stared at him for a moment. Sadness? Sadness isn't a sickness, it's just a wound, a battle scar - it's just the result of your mistake, it's something you have to deal with. It's not something dramatic. She remembered all the wounds she had gotten in combat, all the Clanmates she had had to carry, all the weight on her shoulders and the rhythm of battle beating in her chest. You just have to walk it off - pain in a battlefield means dead Clanmates. No time for fear, or for pain. You just toughen up. Sadness and fear, even sorrow, that was the life of a warrior. It wasn't something to cower away from, it was something to embrace and to fight. But, of course, he wouldn't know that - he was a medicine cat. He would never ask someone to fight pain when his duty was to cure it, and bless StarClan he would never have to know the feeling of repressing an emotion.

She locked eyes with him, feeling slightly dumbfounded at the raw emotion in his gaze. It made sense that he wasn't aware of how important it was to repress your emotions, and to fight pain with all your might. She was a warrior, he was a medicine cat. But still… He seemed so sure it was something to be afraid of, yet she felt the opposite. How can sadness make him feel so horrified? Since when is it something to worry about? But… I suppose he does. She saw something in his amber eyes, something soft and caring, grief for something he had not yet lost. She saw how afraid he was, how much he dreaded to see her corpse rotting away on the black rock, and it cooled down her irritation. Her gaze softened.

-You worry too much about me, she purred, flicking her tail over his ear in a reassuring gesture. You shouldn't. It's not -
-Amberspots, he interrupted. This is important. You could die! I can help you if you let me! Please, I just want to try some poultices on you. It doesn't need to be anything big, just… Please? I - I can't lose you! Please?

He stood up and she followed, letting out a purr that was meant to be comforting. She wasn't scared at all. What he had described was normal. The pain, the sadness, the grief - all a part of her life for what felt like forever. Why should she be scared? She still had a few years to live, there was no need to press. But she saw how important it was to him that they found a solution, and as she followed him to his den, she had no idea how to let him down without making him worry. I'm not hurt. I've never been one to bow down - why should I? For some smoke? Or for some… sadness? There's no need for all this nonsense. I'll be fine in a few moons, I always am.

-Who's the warrior now? she teased as they entered the den. You've got quite an assertive side when you want to.
-This is serious, he muttered, looking at his paws.

She worried she had upset him, but then he head-butted her, and under the strong scents of the berries and the leaves, she could smell his fear-scent. She felt a pang of compassion for her brother, and it turned to sadness as she heard small sobs coming from his muzzle. She buried her face in his shoulder, trying to comfort him (and herself, she would admit later), and as she felt him relax again, she chose to let her pride go and to let him help. I don't need help, but I'm doing it for him.

-Alright, you furball, she murmured, directing him to the stocks. Let's see your remedies.

Chapter 8: Scent of Fur

Amberspots nudged her brother affectionately as he followed her on the front of the den, his eyes clearer and less worried. He washed away a small leaf that had gotten itself stuck on his dark fur and relaxed, sitting down on the matted earth. She watched him distracted as she took a breath, chasing out the scents of herbs that seemed to have clung to her nose after all the time they had spent together studying the remedies they had in stock. It was not much; after all, she was used to spending much longer in the medicine cat's den, especially when - but enough of that. Amberspots wanted to get moving. She had nothing but respect for her brother's duty, but she hated to study herbs. The consciousness of her own necessity to be catered to left her feeling powerless and ashamed. She would have loved if fighting illness was a battle you could fight with your claws instead of with plants. If it was, she wouldn't have needed all of… this.

Yet as her gaze followed Ravenwhisker's black pelt as he slipped out of the den, she could only think of how strong and selfless her brother was. How he had not hesitated to help her and watch over her. How he was still devoting himself to his Clan to this day, how he was shining with health and strong with loyalty; even now he was making new remedies, new progress that would help all the next generations have a better life. The Clan could not ask for a better medicine cat. He's everything a cat should be. She sat down, as a soft feeling engulfed her, a feeling of calm and peace like she had not felt for a long time. Something about seeing her brother live such a fulfilled life made her feel content as well. As she watched apprentices stare after him with a bright gaze, and warriors dip their heads in greeting, she suddenly felt at place. It was the first time she fully noticed how much respect and trust her Clanmates had in their medicine cat, and the first time she felt for herself how powerful his presence was in the Clan. He was brave, kind, loyal; he wasn't a leader, but he would have had as much support and loyalty from his Clanmates still were conflict to arise. He was at the heart of the Clan, he supported it with all his power, and for seasons he had protected and cared to all the cats who lived within the Clan. He was a father, a leader, and a warrior; he was none of them just as he was all of them combined, and his role was far more important than giving herbs. He was someone reliable, a kind presence, the one cat who could make you feel at ease no matter the situation. His presence meant reassurance; his actions brought health; his face was that of concern and efficiency.

This was the true burden of being a medicine cat, for he was as much the leader as the leader themself. He had the heart of the Clan within his paws, he was its caretaker and most fearsome protector, and, as Amberspots found out, he was probably the best cat in it. Of course, he was her brother, so the praise made sense, but it was not entirely based on their bond that she found herself regarding him so highly. She found strange peace in him. His happiness was contagious, and his kindness was soothing. Sometimes, she even forgot that she was ill when she was with her brother; they would joke around like in their youth, teasing each other about their whiskers or their smell, racing around, cuffing each other on the face like kittens. Those were the rare times when she would feel truly happy. Like a bright spark had melted some of the ice inside of her, and was shining through her in purrs and laughter. It wouldn't last, and she would be still alone at the end of the day when she went back to her nest, but it was good while it lasted.

And to see her brother so happy made her feel more peaceful about passing on. It felt like she would not mind if she were to join to join StarClan today. It's not that she wanted to leave, of course, but in this instant, she found herself strangely at peace with it. Seeing Ravenwhisker fulfilled and useful made her think that as long as he was with the Clan, they would see no harm come to them, and that made her feel peaceful. She knew the Clan would be safe for as long as Ravenwhisker was there, and she did not need to watch over them anymore. Although the notion brought her a sense of security, it also worried her, for her brother was as old as she was, and would most likely not live to see more than one generation awaken. He was not too old, but she knew that he would have found himself in the elder's den in no more than a few greenleafs were he not a medicine cat. He would still serve his Clan for many years, but there was no denying his old age still.

Oh, Ravenwhisker, she whined internally, feeling like her chest was too tight for her fur. StarClan knows how much you mean to me. If you were to die soon, I don't know what I would do. The thought if losing her brother sent cold wind howling upon her face, and she lowered her gaze to avoid admitting how scared she was of the possibility. StarClan, if you're listening, I don't wish to die soon, but I beg of you to call me away before him. Please, let me welcome him to StarClan's hunting grounds. Let me see that he is well-welcomed when he arrives. She sighed and lowered her head. The sunlight spilled on the floor, glinting gold and copper on her eye fur and making her vision dim. She closed her eyes for a moment, before she felt the sunlight fade out, and she opened them again.

The view was breathtaking. Cats all around were busying themselves with their evening chores, silent and ethereal like small feathers, as the pale trees reflected the light of the sun with the crystals that hung low over the clearing, suspended from their slim branches. The air was cold and all traces of snowfall were gone from the sky; it was a cool gray, contrasting with the redeeming clouds that were forming near the horizon. The sun was hidden under a mass of dark clouds, sending crimson rays over it in a fight for dominance, but the sky was warm and colorful even with the battle that was happening in the faraway space. For once, Amberspots felt peaceful, and she enjoyed the view. Too long, she had denied herself the occasion, but now that she was an elder, simple pleasures became almost necessary to relieve the boredom. Or rather that's what she told herself. She would never admit that she just loved the colours of sunset enough to watch them so silently. Or that she desperately wished that warriors of StarClan would descend from the bright horizon and somehow soothe her pleading heart. But nothing happened.

She watched the fading lights slowly fade away, a soft breeze chilling her tail-tip and ruffling her whiskers. It felt distant to her, as all her attention was focused on the throbbing inside. She tried to smell the wind to catch the faint perfume of bark, but all she could smell was her own fear-scent laced with a familiar melancholy she wished nothing more than to lose. She let her attention roam freely as she struggled to stop the aching in her stomach and bravely ignored her will to let out a wail, until, eventually, she caught sight of Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail walking side by side by the fresh-kill pile: suddenly, it was like time had stopped. She could feel their mutual warm up the clearing around them and make it feel like they were the only ones in the world to them. Like a little bubble of warmth, the two padded to the pile and chose fresh-kill for their meal, as they murmured together with their heads close to one another's.

Amberspots watched them with her eyes glinting with a strange emotion that she did not know what to call. She could only grasp that she felt her heart ache in a bittersweet way, sending warm, burning flashes of heat ripple through her pelt with every beat. She was not sure if the feeling was positive or not. Something had awakened that felt strangely right, but at the same time, it felt as though she wanted to cry in despair at the sky. It's not fair, she found herself thinking. I can't have it, she added, feeling more and more confused with every passing second. Strange memories flashed through her, of warm eyes gazing at her, of a silent promise and unspoken wishes, of a name that she desperately wanted to call, a faraway yet familiar ragged, battle-scarred pelt she ached to run to and bury her muzzle in her tufts of creamy-white fur and to beg her to never let go. I can't have this, she wanted to yell. It's not fair. And as she realized she was standing up and preparing to walk the familiar path once again, the one that still smelled like fresh mud and morning breeze, she realized that she had to settle down before she made a fool of herself.

She managed to finally stop speaking nonsense after a few seconds of concentration and was left staring in shock at the ground, confused and dazed as to what in the world had come over her. This was unexpected. She had learned long ago to stop dwelling on feelings. Why did it suddenly come back? This is ridiculous. The time for this has long since gone, and it's time I stopped wishing. She looks back to Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail and gave a heavy sigh. She wasn't sure what the sight of them had awakened in her but it amazed and worried her all the same. Why could I not keep these feelings hidden? she rasped to herself, irritation working its way to her chest. I should have better degrees of self-control. I'm supposed to be a warrior! This is embarrassing...

She remembered too late that she was an elder. Luckily, it did not case her as it had before. She supposed she was getting used to it. That's one thing I'm getting used to, she added. She sighed, letting her head fall on her paws as she resumed watching the sunset. I thought I had gotten used to things… I had finally become able to forget about it. She shook her head and pretended it was fine. She was notice to back down from a fight, but this was just too much.

She was roused from her thoughts by the sudden appearance of two blue eyes staring intently into her own. Tigerstorm? She shook herself as a rabbit was pushed under her nose.

"I brought you dinner", Bluefeather meowed, as she timidely sat down next to her, her tortoiseshell fur spiked against the cold. "I thought you might be hungry."

Amberspots nodded, slightly dumbfounded but grateful nonetheless. She wondered for a minute why she had brought her a meal, before she remembered that elders usually had their food brought to them by other members of the Clan. It felt a little strange to be fed, but she was grateful for the attention. She bent down to take a bite, then, realizing how hungry she had been, she took another one, before she looked up at Bluefeather quizzically. The young molly looked back at her, unsure, then took a bite, too. As the young molly chewed, Amberspots eyed her curiously. Two visits in such a short amount of time. I wonder why she's acting so friendly. She looked over to where Fernpaw was sitting; the small apprentice was chatting with Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail around a few mice. Perhaps she didn't want to go eat with Fernpaw with Tigerstorm there, Amberspots thought sadly. I hope they -

"It's pretty cold today," Bluefeather meowed tentatively. "The river's frozen."
"Hunting must have been hard," Amberspots offered with a wince.
"It's good enough," the young molly answered. "How's Ravenwhisker?" she asked, taking a bite of the rabbit. "His herb stash must have been affected."

Amberspots remembered the day she had just spent with him, talking about the illness and studying the herbs together. The chat about Tigerstorm's date felt like a lifetime ago, yet it had been this morning. Talking so long made the day feel longer.

"He's searching for bark as we speak." She didn't know how to approach the subject without worrying the young warrior. Nobody likes to hear that medicine is running low, especially in leaf-bare when the other Clans won't be able to help if need be. She decided not to give too many details and settled for a softened version. "Leaf-bare's hard", she meowed. "But we've seen much worse."

Bluefeather eyed her curiously. Amberspots purred as she settled down more comfortably to begin her story.

"There was a great blizzard one year, back when I was a kit", she explained. "It wasn't an ordinary blizzard; the land froze, and snow fell so hard that even the river was covered in it. The camp was engulfed in it. There were snow puffs everywhere, and we could barely see with the blinding snow everywhere. No one could see where they were going, especially kits." She let out an amused purr. "My mother had to pull me out when I fell down in it the first day. She said I was more ice than cat when she fished me out!"

She took a moment to think of Breezetail, and of her soft tabby fur and her reassuring milky scent, before continuing.

"We had to move away from camp after the snow reached the dens. Nobody wanted to do it, but we had no choice if we wanted to survive until newleaf arrived. Graystar - that was the name of the leader before Coldstar - told us to take all the fresh-kill and the medicine supplies, and to go settle by Fourtrees. My mother took me in her jaws and brought me to Fourtrees with the others queens and their kits, but Ravenwhisker - well, he's always been a kind cat. He insisted on helping move the supplies", she reminisced proudly. "I reckon it was his help that allowed us to keep most of our supplies that year."

She stopped to take a few bites out of the rabbit. As she swallowed thoughtfully, she heard pawsteps near them, and saw a flash of ginger fur. Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail had joined their spot, and were listening quietly to the story. She let out a surprised purr as she saw them. I'm not used to my tales being so popular. Then again, I am an elder, she thought, amused. It must make my stories seem more interesting.

"We all settled down under an oak and waited", she continued, nodding to the two newcomers in acknowledgement. "It took half a moon for the blizzard to stop, but the snow didn't disappear until the next Gathering."

She shivered at the memory. "We barely had anything to eat, except a few frozen rabbits and the occasional bird that we managed to catch. It was hard to hunt, and dangerous, too. We never knew what we were stepping on, and each pawstep was a new danger. To drink, we licked frozen drops off the branches, and to sleep, we would huddle together to share warmth. The cold was unbearable in the night, and no cat was spared from having an ice-burned ear or two, but the warriors had it worse. They would sleep on the borders of the sleeping ground, to shelter the elders and the kits in the middle. The Clan lost some of its bravest warriors that year, and some of its most noble elders." She dipped her head in acknowledgement, and Bluefeather did the same.

Amberspots took a moment to think about her father, Stormcloud, who has given his life for the Clan. He had frozen himself shielding the elders from the wind. Breezetail had grieved him and had never taken another mate after him. Amberspots had been too young to understand, but she remembered the fear and the sorrow. She did not have many memories of him, but they were always good ones.

"Miraculously, there were no sicknesses that year, thank StarClan", she added more light-heartedly. "I think that was StarClan's way of protecting us. They never stopped watching over us, even during the blizzard. They can't do everything, but they showed us mercy when they had the power to."

Bluefeather nodded, taking it in. Amberspots took one last bite of the rabbit and focused on the taste of the chewy meat to distract herself from the memories she had awoken. Now that she had talked about it, she could remember her father's soft blue eyes, full of kindness even during the harsh lead-bare, and how cold his fur had been when she had curled up against him for the last time. She closed her eyes for an instant, wishing she had had the chance to spend more time with him, then sighed and looked at Bluefeather again, nodding for her to speak.

"What about the other Clans?" Tigerstorm asked in a whisper. "How did they cope?"
"They lost many good cats", she answered. "But they managed to survive, just like we had, and at the next Gathering, everything was mostly back to normal."
"Back to normal?" Bluefeather echoed. "Surely there must have been some sort of ceremony, or truce, to ease the Clans into recovery?"

Amberspots thought for a moment about what the young warrior was saying. Of course not, she thought to herself. If the Clans survive, there is no use talking about it. Why should we dwell on it? It's done, and there is nothing more to say. Life goes on.

"We moved on", the old warrior said slowly. "The Clan was safe, and we did not need their help, so we had no use bringing it up. We did speak of our fallen", she added, trying to reassure her. "They had all the respect they deserved."

She was ready to answer Mushroomtail's question, but Bluefeather interrupted, her eyes alight with some sort of anxiety.

"But…" The tortoiseshell stammered as though she didn't know how to explain. "Was there not a ceremony? An acknowledgement of the pain the Clans had gone through? Surely you were not over it already?"

Amberspots blinked. Her words hit too close to home to her liking.

"We had already gone through the blizzard," Amberspots said, confused. "We didn't need more help."
"I meant… did you just… move on? Just like that?"
"The Clan was strong", Tigerstorm intervened. "We weren't left unscathed, but we survived. We were strong enough to recover quickly -"
"Tigerstorm, be sensible!" Bluefeather snapped suddenly. "Amberspots lost her father in the blizzard! That's not something a cat can instantly recover from!"

Tigerstorm opened her eyes wide, stunned to silence.

"That's not what I-" she started.
"When you lose a friend, it takes moons to feel happy again", Bluefeather hissed, ignoring her attempt at explaining herself. "She couldn't just walk it off. She needed time to process it like any sane cat would. It hurts and, sometimes, it feels like you will never get through it. And when you talk about it, it feels better", she explained coldly. "When you take time to remember the events, it feels good. It feels peaceful. You can come to terms with it. It feels nice to know that the dead are still remembered, and that cats acknowledge your grief. I can't understand how the Clan would be ready to move on so early from the blizzard that took so many lives - especially without some form of commemoration. Especially when they lost their loved ones. So I ask: were they not sad? Did it not strike them? Was there no story told to remember them?"

Bluefeather swallowed hard and looked at Amberspots through her whiskers. Something in her eyes was hard and accusing.

"Did it not deserve some words?" she said quietly. "A period of grief? Was it not important?"

"It was", Amberspots assured, but something was telling her that the warrior was talking about something else entirely, something she was not sure she could follow. "The Clan had a funeral for every fallen cat and a vigil was held in their honor", she added, feeling something in her heart tugging painfully. "They were not forgotten."
"I know, but… not like this. Not so soon." She shot a look at Tigerstorm, her eyes icy, and it was clear that she was no longer talking to Amberspots, but to Tigerstorm instead. "There's no more knowledge of the blizzard. How can the Clan properly make peace if there is no more talk about the events? Some cats like to talk about their loved ones when grieving."

The molly was glaring daggers at her sister, who seemed crestfallen. Bluefeather's voice was rumbling with anger, with a barely-hidden pain that she was trying to repress with a clench of her shoulders.

"Bluefeather-"

And suddenly, Bluefeather snapped.

"Did you not care enough to grieve her? Twilightpaw was the sweetest, kindest, bravest cat I've ever known, and I won't let you stomp on her memory like she was nothing! She was so much more than that! She was my love," she hissed in quiet fury. "She was my light, my everything, and she meant the world to me. And she couldn't even get a proper goodbye from you! She was your friend, Tigerstorm! Your friend! Why did you pretend that she had never existed? How could you give up on your memories like it was nothing? You were destroyed at her funeral, I saw you - why couldn't you just talk about her? I was grieving - we could have grieved together!"

She drew in a sharp breath, looking back at Tigerstorm with pain in her eyes, as she let out a sob, a heartwrenching sound that rumbled deep in her stomach. Then her anger faded and gave way to desperation. The pain in her eyes was jarring, so far away from the cool, quiet molly that sat with her friends and watched the stars every night. This was a scarred warrior, one who had seen death.

"How could you just forget her? It's been six moons, Tigerstorm! I thought she was your friend!"
"I didn't forget her", Tigerstorm rasped. "I just don't want to talk about it anymore!"
"Like that's possible", Bluefeather hissed under her breath.

Tigerstorm glared at her, but the warrior had already dipped her head to Amberspots and Mushroomtail in goodbye and was stalking away.

The ginger molly dipped her head in anger. When she looked back up at her friends, her gaze had changed to one of acceptance.

"This is progress", she meowed tentatively. "I guess she's talking to me, even if it's harsh and unpleasant. And irritating. And… and real."

She let out a frustrated growl, shuffling closer to Mushroomtail.

"I'm happy she's open with me, but… not like this", she muttered. "She wouldn't even listen… if only she would let me speak for one second..."
"Give her time", Mushroomtail suggested, nudging her soothingly. "She's harsh, but she's not mean. She's… she's grieving."

Tigerstorm nodded, and sunk deep into silence, her eyes pained at the mention of Twilightpaw, the apprentice with the big purple eyes full of mischief, a troublemaker and an adventure-seeker, a little kit in heart. She had never stopped messing with the others,which was why she had been Amberspots' apprentice.

"I miss her," the young molly whispered, pressing against Mushroomtail, her voice small and uncertain.

Amberspots felt her heart squeeze. She remembered her playful eyes, bright and stubborn, and her small figure puffed up in indignation. She remembered the times she had to punish her for her recklessness, and how she had sulked all the way to the elder's den, her little eyes alight with irritation. She remembered that she would always eventually go and join the apprentice, and she would help her remove the soiled bedding and place the new one, and as she thought of how the young molly had begun to like the unpopular task and see caring for the elders as more of a normal part of training than a chore for punished warriors, she thought with a pang of everything she had been teaching her, and of how much she had been looking forward to showing her everything the forest had to offer. Highstones, the Gathering, border patrol, hunting at Snakerocks… She would never see those places, except maybe from the skies above. She would never receive her warrior name, or have kits, or grow old.

Would Amberspots ever forgive herself for it?

"I'll… give her time," Tigerstorm conceded, snapping Amberspots back to reality.

The old cat guessed that she had spaced out for a few minutes. Already, the two warriors were preparing to leave. Amberspots touched her nose to Tigerstorm's ear, then to Mushroomtail's, fee!ing more old and frail than ever before. She watched them walk away, feeling cold drift through her bones as her bald spots seemed to expand considerably, and her joints felt worse than ever. She felt weary. For a second, she considered going for a walk in the forest and getting lost under a tree, falling asleep under a bundle of roots and waiting until the C!an found her - or didn't, which was also a pleasant possibility - but she remembered her promise to Ravenwhisker. I said I would test poultices with him, she thought. I can't let him down. So she padded to her nest and dropped in it, letting the sheer exhaustion wash over her and chase the sorrow with a dreamless slumber.

Notes:

HTML? What's that?

(Thanks to all you guys for your support, it means a lot! Thanks for the lovely commentaries, the precious kudos and all the anonymous guests who passed by and read some of my work! It means a lot to me that you'd appreciate my work, and I really hope you're having a good time, here and in your life in general. I hope you guys are all good and happy on the other side of your screen, and if not, that I'm sending you good vibes from my own side of it)

Chapter 9: Forgotten Eyes

Amberspots woke from her sleep with a vision of her brother's amber eyes clinging in the darkness, and with her ears echoing with his voice saying in an uncharacteristic stern voice to not let him down. She stood up, shaking, and thought for a moment of doing something to apologize. Perhaps if she fetched some herbs for him - then she breathed in and finally shook off the ridiculous fear that had taken ahold of her, to snap back in reality, where her brother was probably asleep and happy as usual, if not a little worried for his Clanmates as any good medicine cat was. He was probably dreaming of remedies or having nightmares about being summoned to the leader's den and scolded for messing up, like he used to dream about when he was younger and had taken on the burden of being sole medicine cat for the first time. Old Mudfrost had died when his apprentice was still fairly young and had just received his new name, and despite his reassurances that he would be amazing, just like he was, Ravenwhisker had constantly feared a day where he would screw up and create an illness by mixing up the wrong herbs together. Amberspots (still Amberpaw back then) had tried her best to reassure him, but in the end, only time has done any lasting effect, and he had eventually become able to purr and be merry.

He has changed, but he's still the same way at heart. He was still nervous whenever he tried new remedies, though it was not a bad thing, of course. Even the best warriors were afraid before battle, and they only had to worry about their own safety, whereas Ravenwhisker had much deeper and long lasting worries on his mind. He must feel pretty stressed-out. I wish i could help. With that in mind, she stretched out and walked out of the den, determined to help him as much as she could today. I'll find the herbs he's missing and bring them to him so he can start planning the treatment, she thought resolutely.

She padded in the direction of the fresh-kill pile and took out a mole. She shot a glance towards the warrior's den as she passed it, wondering if Bluefeather and Tigerstorm were still fighting. Yesterday's conversation floated back to memory: their talk about the blizzard, the questions regarding the Clan's customs in times of hardship, then Bluefeather's outburst and her eyes, white-hot with grief, as she accused Tigerstorm of having forgotten Twilightpaw. Tigerstorm's surprise, her bitter and angry comments after her sister had stalked away to her nest. Amberspots' exhausting walk back to her den. Her nightmares about her brother holding the same grudge against her, her own misery at the thought of making him so upset.

She sat down near the elders' den and took a bite out of the mole, savoring its musky flavor on her tongue. She had not eaten mole in a while. Or eaten anything at all, really. She wondered why she was suddenly feeling so up to it. Her sleep had been awful, and yesterday's conversation was still fresh in her mind, giving today a gloomy feeling to it. Nothing seemed to have given her such inspiration. She frowned, confused. Something stinging was blooming in her chest, as though she had eaten grass and her stomach was howling angrily at her. She would have preferred it to be grass, because however disgusting it would be, she could simply vomit it and be done with the pain. Now, she had no other option than to think. No escape from whatever was troubling her.

She decided to confront it, hoping it would go away sooner, and forced herself to register the pain. It felt strange. It was not painful in the same way sadness or hurt was, it was more of an frustration, a bitterness. It was somewhat easy to swallow, as it was laced with some sort of comfort, or happiness, but at the same time, she dreaded to accept it. Something… something felt wrong. Something about her resolve and her sudden determination made her want to recoil in despair. Which was utterly ridiculous. Why in the world would I want to stop feeling happy? Is this not what Ravenwhisker wants? And what I want? I don't know if this is happiness, but it's still progress. I got up and ate on my own, and I made plans for today. How is this not recovery? And how is it so scary? Do I not want to recover? Does that make me dishonorable?

She shook her head and gulped down the last of the mole, setting her worries to the side. She had other things - better things - to do today than thinking. She got to her paws and gave herself a wash, before walking in the direction of Ravenwhisker's den, hoping to catch him before his duties took over.

But instead of finding the den silent and alone, she was surprised to hear a mew coming from the entrance to his den, and caught sight of a red and black pelt bristling in the wind behind the wall. Is this Tigerstorm? she wondered, squinting her eyes at the cat. Tigerstorm's pelt was ginger with dark stripes, making it unlikely, but Amberspots could barely see anything under the strong light the sun was making. It could be her, she thought. Maybe the shadow makes her pelt look darker.

But as she finally reached it, she saw that it was Bluefeather who was talking in hushed mews with the medicine cat. What is she doing here?

"Is there not something you can do?" Bluefeather was asking, her voice anxious.
"Have faith in StarClan", Ravenwhisker answered. "We will find something."
"There's nothing you haven't already tried that can do something! You have to let me try! I know where it is, I can find it! I can do it!"
"Bluepaw, you can't. It's not possible."

'Bluepaw'? How is this… how is she Bluepaw again?

Ravenwhisker's voice was categorical, but not without empathy. "This miracle cure doesn't exist", he said slowly, resigned. "We cannot do anything, but wait. StarClan will show us the right way, in time. Amberspots will come back with what we need, and we will make what we can with it. There is nothing more we can do."

Bluepaw's face was desperate, angry. "You can't do anything!" she cried. "My best friend is going to die, and you can't do anything!"
"Amberspots is going to find it", Ravenwhisker said confidently, his pelt shimmering near the entrance. "You must trust her."

Bluepaw was pacing the matted soil, hardened by the heat and the strengths of the sunshine. She stormed out of the den, her gray feet dragging on the earth under her, making puffs of dust rise around her. It's greenleaf. That's not right. Horror dawned on her like the strongest of waves. What if I'm hallucinating all of this? Is any of this real? Amberspots had a spur of inspiration: she tried to make herself float, and when it worked, it became clear that none of this was real. This is just a dream. At ease, you ridiculous furball. She laughed at herself, taken aback at the absurdity of it. I sure am glad not to be hallucinating. If "glad" is even the right word. Why am I thinking about this? Not that I'm not happy to dream about happier times, she corrected. It is good to have a good rest. How often had she had the opportunity to sleep without being plagued by nightmares? Not often, at least, not for a long, long time.

"Stop that!" Bluepaw hissed, turning away from Ravenwhisker. "Stop finding excuses! You're just incapable of finding the cure, don't pretend otherwise! You're weak, and a coward!"
"Bluepaw, you know I'm doing everything in my power to cure her."
"You're not even letting me go fetch the herb that could cure her! You're a coward, Ravenwhisker! A coward, and a fool!" she spat, almost drooling with venom. "You can't even -"

A gulp, a sharp intake of air. Ravenwhisker turned to a soggy mess of moss and tabby fur, his eyes alert. It had moved. Someone is in there, Amberspots thought. They look wounded. Is this after the battle for Sunningrocks? It could be Timberhawk, or Mosspaw. Though Bluepaw was too young to have been a medicine cat apprentice then. She had been four or five moons during the battle. Perhaps I'm miscalculating, she guessed. She might have -

"Bluepaw, she's awake."

Ravenwhisker's pelt brushed against the cold walls, to reach the nest that patients used, where a small cat was laying on its flank, its skin bare and oozing with pus. Its nose was clogged, and its breathing was strained, until Bluepaw softly brushed aside the fluids.

"Hey, furball" she greeted the cat, settling near it in a shimmy of fur.

She kept washing its nose without even a hint of disgust, her eyes strained but fond.

"Ravenwhisker's getting you water. We also have some food if you're hungry."
"Bluepaw," the cat rasped, its voice hoarse and disoriented. "Where am I? What's going on?"

What was left of the small cat's brown fur rippled anxiously as the patient rolled over to face the young molly, whose gaze had not strayed away even once since the cat had awakened.

"We're in the medicine den," Bluepaw explained.
"Where's Mo - where's Amberspots?"

Amberspots' chest swelled with uncontrollable pain at the word. This was about eight moons ago, the day when… This can't be a memory. I was not there that day. Something is wrong. This is too… it's too real. She walked to Twilightpaw and pressed her nose against the small molly's shoulder fur, trying to reassure her, but she faded through the brown stripes. She could only stare in resigned helplessness as she watched her skinny apprentice shrivel and whine. Oh, StarClan, please, no...

"Where's Amberspots?" Twilightpaw asked again, her meow small with fear.
"She's gone to search for your remedy", Bluepaw answered, trying to be joyous.

It didn't work - instead, it seemed to make her feel even worse. Twilightpaw's eyes lit up in despair. She struggled to get to her paws, and when Bluepaw stopped her, she could only trash weakly against her friend, whining meows of "No, please… no…" and staring at Bluepaw in agony. She gurgled in frustration.

"I need to see her, I need to! I need to see her -"
"She won't be gone for long. You'll see her soon, you'll see. She'll find the herbs to cure you, and we'll have a poultice done in no time. You'll be back on your legs before you can say mouse," Bluepaw meowed with forced cheerfulness.

Twilightpaw stared up at her companion. Then she exhaled; a slow, pained sound. In her eyes, there was a sudden look of calm.

"You don't believe that, do you?" she asked softly. "You don't believe I can be cured."

Bluepaw answered nothing, only begun washing her friend's pelt with calm, soothing licks.

"You'll -"

Bluepaw was cut by Ravenwhisker's arrival. He gave the patient a moss ball that dripped over the nest as it rolled over to Twilightpaw's muzzle. She drank it hungrily, and asked for another. Ravenwhisker nodded to Bluepaw, but she glared at him.

"I won't leave her side," she protested.
"It'll only be for a few minutes. And I have to examine her," Ravenwhisker meowed, softly but firmly.

Reluctantly, she moved to the side, and tore her gaze away from Twilightpaw as she exited the den. She passed through Amberspots' transparent form, and the elder, after a moment of shock, told herself that it was normal. After all, she wasn't really there. She had been on the moor that day. She had a sudden flash of her own wild running through the herbs that bordered Clan territory, her frantic digging and sniffing around for anything that would be of any value. She worried for an instant that her dream would cut there, and that she would follow her own past self as she searched through the long grass for the rare herb. Luckily, something in her mind must have wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, because, unlike most of her dreams, where time was relative and she could do what she wanted to do and nobody would care, this dream kept going even when her mind was elsewhere. It did not fade away, so she kept still to listen to it.

Bluepaw was back with a ball of moss in her jaws, and she carried it to the den without a word to her concerned Clanmates that waited anxiously outside the den.

"Water", she meowed to Ravenwhisker, setting down the ball next to her mentor.

She plopped down next to the nest and resumed her washing. She licked away the pus without a care in the world for the risks of infection her actions had, her eyes focused on Twilightpaw's. The apprentice seemed to relax, and soon, her breathing deepened. Amberspots thought she was sleeping, but Ravenwhisker's shocked face told her otherwise. The medicine cat nudged Bluepaw away from the apprentice, his eyes dark.

"Don't", the medicine cat whispered. "You could -"
"She needs washing. Do you have a better idea?" snapped Bluepaw.

The medicine cat gently guided her a few tail-lenghts away from their patient. Bluepaw glared daggers at him. She shook herself free as soon as they were far enough away from the apprentice and turned to face him, her fur bristling.

"You're so sure this will work that you're not even concerned about hurrying update p", she accused. "She's dying, and you're not even the slightest bit concerned" she hissed. "Can't you hurry up more? I'm the only one who's doing something useful, and you can't even acknowledge that! You're just sitting here, doing nothing! What is wrong with you?"

Ravenwhisker sighed.

"Bluepaw," he meowed softly, his eyes full of understanding. "I'm sorry. Her state is worsening, and there is nothing more I can do but make her comfortable."
"What do you mean? You said she was fine!"

Her shocked mew quickly turned to anger.

"You said Amberspots would come back in time!" Bluepaw screeched in betrayal. "You said we would save her!"

Her voice was no more than a harsh whisper, but all the emotion of a full-blown yowl was there.

"I'm sorry, Bluepaw. It's out of my paws."
"That still doesn't mean you should give up!" growled Bluepaw.
"Bluepaw, there is nothing we can do. We must let her go."
"I can't turn my back on a Clanmate!" Bluepaw yowled in horror. "What do you want me to do, let her die?"
"Bluepaw, I understand your pain, but you must know that I did everything I could for her. She was my Clanmate, too."

She looked into Ravenwhisker's pained eyes and her anger died down to give way to quiet desperation. She nodded, but her eyes were still clouded with grief. She spoke again in a small whisper.

"Then maybe I shouldn't be a medicine cat, because I could never see another one of my Clanmates die like this."
"Bluepaw, are -"
"RAVENWHISKER! I'M HERE! BLUEPAW!"

Amberspots heard her own voice ring out in the clearing, and she saw a molly dart from the entrance to the camp, to the medicine den. The cat ran, her legs powerful and lean, her fur dense and silky. She recognized the way the warrior's hind leg was flexing strangely, as though part of the launches were a piece of wood and not flesh and bone. The experience was eerie. This was her.

"I have the herb! I have it! Here! You can give it to her!" the younger Amberspots stammered, out of breath, as she spat a plant (roots and all) at the feet of the two medicine cats.

She seemed both desperate and gleeful, and her eyes were glinting with all the might of a starry sky. She remembered what she had been thinking of, in that split-second before the unthinkable happened. If I give them the herb, everything will be fine. Twilightpaw will be cured, and everything will be back to normal. We'll go training in a moon, and she'll try to fool me into going on her own, but I'll see it coming and I'll catch her, she'll sulk, but then she'll brighten up at the perspective of training.

But neither Ravenwhisker nor Bluepaw had made a move.

"Amberspots…" Ravenwhisker emitted. "It's too late."
"What?" the warrior shot out, taken aback by his serious tone.
Bluepaw looked up at the molly, her eyes clouded, and whispered: "She's… she's not going to make it. You… we have to say goodbye."
"But I have the herb, it doesn't… what do you mean?"

Amberspots stared in confusion. Her brother gently guided her to Twilightpaw's nest, where the apprentice was asleep, laying in a relative peace in a tight ball. She choked back on her words and rested her head near the apprentice's shoulder, trying to wake her up.

"Twilightpaw?" she murmured. "Twilightpaw, can you hear me?" She let out a shaky breath. "Twilightpaw, it's Amberspots - it's… it's Mom. I'm here."

I never called myself Mom to her. But that day...

"Mom?" Twilightpaw meowed, unsure.

Then she opened her eyes and her face brightened.

"Mom! Mom, you're here", the apprentice rasped. "I was worried you wouldn't come see me before I left", she breathed, and in her clogged-up throat, there was the hint of a purr.
"I'm sorry", Amberspots choked out. "I know I'm late."
"Always are," Twilightpaw let out, her eyes bright with humour, and Amberspots had to force herself to let out a purr. "Always late… for training. And… you... make me... do all these… chores instead. For… killing time… compensate. And… there's no chores in StarClan," she joked. "I'm beating you… this time."

The young cat sighed and rested her head on Amberspots' shoulder.

"I should have been a better mentor," Amberspots meowed.
"No… mind. Is it scary... to go?" she murmured.

Amberspots touched her muzzle to her ear. How could I answer this question?

"It's going to be alright, I'm sure of it," she promised. "You'll see your Mother again. And I won't leave you, I promise."
"But I…"

She breathed in, but didn't finish her sentence.

Amberspots woke up in cold sweat and with the scream she had been about to give still on her lips. She panted, looking around; at the fresh-kill pile, at the dens, at the last strips of mole that were still laying between her paws. She curled up on herself, shaking with horror, the last parts of the dream playing over and over and over, then got up to her paws and set the meal aside, choosing to go back to her den. Her plans did not matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the whimper of her apprentice, and the fear-scent that had flashed from her pelt before she had stopped moving forever.

She rolled up in her nest, trying to breathe again, and failing. Because why did that matter if she breathed? She had no right to breathe when her apprentice had died by her fault.

She closed her eyes and refused to get up again for the rest of the day.

Chapter 10: Green Leaves

Amberspots was watching the ceiling, had been for at least three patrols's time. She had no motivation whatsoever to move. No willingness to do anything.

She hoped against all odds that the ache in her mind would fade away by itself if she gave it enough time, but she knew it would not. This wasn't how feelings worked. I have to keep moving and to accept them if I want them to stop hurting. Yet she couldn't.

In her mind, the only thing that she could picture was Twilightpaw. Their moons of training, their occasional head-butting. Her familiar little silhouette next to her, her chipper voice asking about the next training session and the weird smells of the other Clans. The horrible moments before her death, filled with pain and anguish. How she wished she had been in her place, and faced the abyss instead of her. She would have given anything to not have had to see her tiny apprentice die between her paws. No kit deserved this fate. She had been too young, too innocent, too precious to die. And yet she had.

It had been her fault. She had been too late, and she hadn't been able to stop it. She had found the plant too late. She had run too slow. She hadn't been strong enough, and now, because of her, Twilightpaw, her only apprentice, was dead. And she would never come back, she would never tell her that joke she had been meaning to, she would never be able to jump all the way up the cliff like she had always dreamed of, she would never tell Bluepaw she loved her and become her mate and have kits with her like she would pray aloud to StarClan when training was done and she was left to think alone.

At least she would see her mother, but how much did that weight against all the things she could have done down there? It didn't make it okay, didn't make it good. She didn't even feel relieved. She would have seen her mother anyways, and would have had so many more things to tell her about if she had lived longer, too.

But this line of thought lead her nowhere near closure. Nothing really did, anyways.

She sighed. Something like guilt pressed down on her pelt and made her feel like she was being burned. I thought I was getting better. For a few seconds, she had had drive and motivation. She had felt hopeful. And then she had fallen asleep - if that's what even happened. She didn't even remember closing her eyes. She had been lost in thought, and lost track of the time. Perhaps she had been so distracted she hadn't seen the sleep coming. Maybe the mole had played a role in it, too. She had eaten one right before leaving for the remedy. It might have caused her memories to flood back she really had not stood a chance after Bluefeather's outburst, two days ago.

It was not familiar, though. She hadn't been there when it had happened. Either StarClan's messing with my destiny, or I'm hallucinating. She supposed she should ask Ravenwhisker or Bluefeather for it, but she felt too tired for it. She did not really take that last fact seriously, though. She was used to ignoring her body's wishes. Battle was way harder to get up from than some stupid sadness. StarClan permit, she still had some sort of warrior spirit left in her!

Her decision made, she heaved herself to her paws and, after breathing deeply through her dry nose, lapped at a poppy seed to ease the trembling in her paws. It did not count as food, but at least it would give her some sort of energy for the conversation she was about to have.

She padded slowly to the entrance to the medicine den, her head heavy on her shoulders. What would she say? Ravenwhisker would be so disappointed. What would he think about his sister? He was so proud when I was made a warrior. He said I was the best in the Clan and that I would shine brighter than the Sun on a cloudless day. He looked so happy… how can I let him down? I can't tell him how I feel, he'll -

Then she heard a molly's voice and froze.

"Is there not something you can do?"

Oh no.

"Have faith in StarClan", Ravenwhisker's voice meowed back. "We will find something."

She fought the urge to yowl. Oh, StarClan, not again! She buried her head in her paws, trying to bring herself back to her senses. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. This is just a dream. I'll wake up.

"Perhaps if we try honey and coltsfoot? Wrapped in a bundle of beech leaves?"
"I doubt coltsfoot would do much good, but…"

The voices trailed off as the two cats presumably left for the stockpile.

Thank StarClan.

Amberspots was left standing outside of the den, her head numb with relief. She did not know what she would have done were she in some kind of never-ending nightmare, or what kind of craziness it would have been that would have taken ahold of her, but she preferred not to dwell on it. She was still sane. Mostly. Partly. A little bit.

After yesterday, she didn't know anymore.

All the more reasons to go see Ravenwhisker, she decided, before entering. The smell of herbs engulfed her, sticking to her pelt like persistent leeches. She sat down at her usual spot near the entrance and started washing herself to pass the time. She couldn't help but glance around, noting down things that seemed logical to make sure she wasn't trapped in a strange dream. But everything seemed to be in order. Maybe the other cat is a fellow medicine cat seeking advice, or a youngster that wants to know about remedies.

Time passed and passed, or so it seemed. Amberspots was bored, and with boredom came the dark, strange thoughts that she hated, and she thought that Ravenwhisker could not come back soon enough. She decided to inspect her pads, and saw that their condition had greatly improved. No more of the cracks that had tortured her since the start of leaf-bare. They're getting better. I can't say the same about myself, she added somberly. Sometimes I worry I'll never get better. Why did I have to be such a mouse-brain and sabotage whatever morsel of happiness I had? she raspes inwardly, thinking about how strange it had felt to be motivated again. Sometimes, it feels like I don't want to get better. Then she thought for a while about her last sentence. Do I want to get better? she asked herself. I know Ravenwhisker does, but what about me? How do I feel about it?

She snarled. Not that it makes any difference. I'll be forced to act the same anyways. I'll take the same steps and be asked the same things. I'll have highs and lows. She corrected herself: her Clanmates would still be just as genuine and caring, regardless of how she felt about recovery. It was how she would perceive things that would change. Their help would feel either like a nursing mother encouraging her and soothing her sadness, or like a harsh mentor pushing her beyond her limits and leaving her exhausted and discoutaged afterwards. And that would make all the difference between happiness or discomfort, between recovery and worsening. Is it wrong to say I don't want to recover? she thought. It's not so bad sometimes. There are times when it feels almost soothing. When I'm chatting with Tigerstorm, or spending time with Ravenwhisker, this… smoke illness... doesn't feel bad. It feels like spending time with them would feel less good if I were healed. That's nonsense, but I can't help but think it. Good feelings during sickness only get better when healed, and recovery in itself is… well, is supposed to be good.

She laughed at herself. It's lucky I'm not deputy anymore, because I'm setting a very bad example for others right now. Not wanting to recover is really not a winning attitude. What kind of message would I even be sending if I were saying this out loud? She imagined inadvertently causing death by promoting the message that recovery is bad, and pictured cats dying of curable ilnesses because being healthy makes you feel worse and shuddered. While it was wrong and horrifying, she couldn't help but find the scenario somewhat amusing. Not the death - her own failure as deputy. The Clan is lucky I stepped down. She thought of the silver tabby that had taken her place, feeling both proud and dejected. Moon-eye really was a good choice. No cat can doubt her courage and her loyalty.

She looked away from the stocks. Something inside was aching. I feel old, she thought uselessly. I can't do anything about it, so I shouldn't bother. But I still am. And I really should show some courage and face it, but…

She realised that she was dozing off when she noticed that her body had become heavy and nearly immovable. She tried to get to her paws, but a gentle nudge on her shoulder stopped her from moving.

"You can stay here," said a gentle voice. "I'll make you a nest and fetch you some water while you rest."

She recognized the molly's golden pelt: Fernpaw, the soft-spoken apprentice that had somehow managed to befriend both Tigerstorm and Bluefeather at the same time and not get caught in the middle of a single fight. Where's Ravenwhisker? Amberspots thought. As much as she appreciated Fernpaw's kindness, she wasn't her brother. Or a medicine cat.

Except if she was. Perhaps she was seeing a future where Fernpaw - Fernsomething - had become medicine cat. Perhaps she was stuck in a nightmare, and this was another scene of disaster. Worst of all, perhaps her brother wasn't even there. She moaned in despair. Why this? Why me? I'm too old for this nonsense! She let out a sob, feeling utterly defeated. Why can't I see my brother? Why are you doing to to me, StarClan? Choose another cat for your stupid prophecies! I just want some poppy seeds and a good night's sleep!

Then she smelled the familiar pelt and tensed.

"Ravenwhisker?" she let out, uncertain.
"What's wrong? You're crying!" came back the voice of her brother. "Is something hurting?"

She let herself relax, but she may have relaxed too much, because she felt her spirit drift far, far away, somewhere between sleep and awareness.

"I just had the weirdest dream", she started.

Every word was a pain, a heavy burden that she had to carry all the way to her throat and heave off her lips. The effort was awfully tiring - so ridiculously tiring, in fact, that she wondered if she was fainting. Then she realized she was falling asleep.

"Can we… can we stop talking? Please", she said incoherently. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

Ravenwhisker pressed something to her sides, and she registered it was moss. A nest.

"Of course", he said soothingly. "We'll talk tomorrow."

She vaguely heard Fernpaw's quiet voice talking in whispers with him, as they dabbed more moss to her sides. She smelled water and remembered that Fernpaw had said she was getting her a drink before she had left. That's nice. She kept her word. I like that.

Then she drifted back to sleep.

Notes:

I had to rework on some parts of the story, since I found some plot holes while rereading it. Major thing to say about it is that Mushroomtail is now called Beavertail. Also, fun fact: Fernpaw is the apprentice we saw cuddling with Tigerstorm at the start of Chapter One. She wasn't mentioned, but it was said that two apprentices, one ginger and the other gold, were snuggling and chatting together in the clearing. That's them!

Another thing to mention for continuity's sake is that Bluefeather and Tigerstorm are older than the other apprentices. Bluefeather left the medicine cat path to become a warrior, and Tigerstorm decided to wait for her so they would be warriors together. They are a few moons older than Fernpaw, which has only been recently made an apprentice. Beavertail is more or less in the same generation - he's a few seasons older than Tigerstorm.

Last thing - I changed Mushroomtail to Beavertail for my father's entertainment. The character was (very loosely) based on him and I thought he'd like having s character having a pun name. See, here in Québec, a beaver tail is also a sort of pastry, (queue de castor) and he would have loved to know his name was a pun. So here we go! And it makes tons of interesting life to delve into, besides being a nice lil touch, so it's a win-win. Hopefully that won't confuse you guys too much! If it does, no worries - I'm planning on reposting the story once it's finished, so the final product is the actual cleaned version without typos and stuff like that.

Have a good day/night! See you soon!

Chapter 11: Where We Go

Notes:

Small hiatus. I've put the writing on hold for a while due to some personal issues. Also, I tried to focus on my original work but I burned myself out. I'm trying to recover from both at the moment, so I've decided to put writing on hold for a few weeks and see from there if I feel okay to write again. I have some chapters written already so I'll post them, but I don't know if I'll be okay to keep posting right after that. I'll keep you updated, and honestly I hope to feel up to writing this soon because I really adore this story and the setting.

She woke up feeling like she had been crashed into by a monster. Every bone in her body was sore, and her mind was incredibly tired. The only thing she could muster the strength to think was how old she felt. This is stupid and horrible. Please, StarClan, get me away from here. I'm tired of being old. I'm tired of all of this. I don't want to fear how close death is anymore. I just wish I could be carefree like before. I wish I were young again.

She heard Fernpaw's soft voice, and felt her footsteps echo through the earth. She's so young. I envy her. How strong her muscles must be! How light her steps are! How easy her breathing seems to be! She wished she could go back to her body. Or, at least, go back and knock some sense into her young self. She clearly had never thought about how painful her body would become after so many years of reckless fighting. She had ruined her body, and she dearly wished she had shown more concern for herself. There was no glory in having bad bloodflow in her toes and bones that ached with every move, only shame and regret. She wished she me would have seen it sooner. Maybe she would have taken better care of herself.

But back then, it had only been a bother. Taking care of her body was annoying, and shameful. What would she look like if she couldn't even stand up fast? If she needed to stretch before training? If she had to take breaks when her pads hurt? This was all just a burden to her. But now, it did not feel annoying. It just felt… sad. She felt like she had broken her body, and it felt horrible, a bit like she had lost something dear to her.

Amberspots felt broken. Just… broken. There were so many things she used to do - so many things she should still be able to do that she couldn't do anymore. She used to run across the clearing, climb trees, jump from root to root. She used to be able to kick her opponents with her hind legs, and bite down hard on their limbs without letting go. She was so reckless that she thought that having your ears scratched open was something to be proud of. Now, it made her hear less and less by the day.

It felt like Amberspots - the real Amberspots, the one who could run and fight and hunt all day - was gone, and this was just a remnant of her real form. And it was her fault, was it not? If she had taken better care of herself, and if she had tried harder to stay fit, it would not have happened. She would have stayed fit, would have stayed young, until… well, until nothing. The kitlike reasoning was that, if she tried hard enough, she could fight off old age forever, but that did not make sense. It would mean that all the elders were not trying hard enough, were losers, were lazy. And that - that made no sense.

Some things just happen no matter what, she thought. Cats die, just like trees shed and flowers bloom. It's the will of StarClan. It's how things are.

Amberspots stayed in contemplation of the wall, lost in her thoughts, for a long while, caught in a comfortable daze, until the smell of rabbit reached her nose. She looked up and saw Ravenwhisker handing her her morning meal, registering at the last minute that the sun was slowly extending its rays on the clearing.

"What day is it?" she asked.

It felt like the days were going in a blur. She couldn't keep track of them anymore.

"It's half-moon", Ravenwhisker answered.

That must be why Fernpaw is here today. She must be learning how to cure basic wounds to cover for him when he leaves. That made sense. She bit down on the rabbit without further comments. It tasted very little, but it did not feel like ash, so she swallowed it anyways. Besides, she did not want to refuse a meal her brother had brought her. That would be impolite.

"How's your training coming along?" she asked mischievously, remembering that she used to ask him about it whenever he was preparing for the medicine cats' meeting.

Ravenwhisker gave a little purr.

"How's yours?" he asked in return.

She swatted him on the nose, feeling the hint of a good mood return to her.

"I'm the best warrior", she boasted. "I never make mistakes. And I definitely don't know anything about overexhaustion", she added.

She didn't know whether she was making a joke or venting out her bitterness. She decided to ignore her own attempt at humour and took another bite of the rabbit. It had invited to her that she was hungry. I didn't eat yesterday.

Ravenwhisker purred. "Well, I'm the best medicine cat. I never forget herbs. I can treat patients all day. Nothing gets past me."

Amberspots purred and he seemed happy to have made her laugh. Past the dark circles under his eyes, his gaze glowed.

"You look exhausted", she said as she pushed the rabbit for him to take a bite, but he shook his head.
"All yours", he protested good-naturedly. "You don't want me to get fatter than I already am, do you?" he added.
"Fat looks good on you", she argued half-jokingly, and he swatted her in return.

He does have the pelt for it. With a dark coat like his, he would never be mistaken for a kittypet, she thought as she eyed his jet-black fur that glowed silver when he moved. No kittypet had such an eerie color, she thought with pride. He looked like he had visited StarClan and was covered in stardust. She knew from what their mother had told them that their father had had the same coat, only with white paws on his. They probably had the same build, too, other than the layer of fat that Ravenwhisker had. They even shared the same amber gaze.

As much as she would have liked to say she herself looked like Breezetail, her mother had been black-and-white, her white spots looking like clouds on a starless night. She supposed they had shared a spotted pelt, but the similarities ended there. Her own markings were scattered and assymetrical, with none of the elegance that her mother had. She looked like a tree on fire, even moreso since she used to have a brown-ish color in her youth. Puberty made you catch on fire, elders used to say to tease her. The memory made her snicker.

She noted her jolt of happiness with a small hint of satisfaction. Perhaps I am in a good mood, after all.

"Excited for the meeting today?" she asked after a while.
"Nervous", he corrected. "I'll ask the other medicine cats about the smoke infection. I just hope they know something about it. I'm sure they'll have something that can help us anyway", he added cheerfully. "Especially Pearlshade. She always has good ideas."

Amberspots shot him a teasing look.

"Someone's got a crush", she cooed.
"Nonsense, I'm a good medicine cat and I don't give in to these feelings", he answered with fake outrage. "But, between me and you, my heart belongs to Graystar", he added with a wink.
"He's been dead for decades", she protested with a purr, going along with the joke. "What would our Clanmates say if they knew their medicine cat was courting a cat - a leader at that - a dead one?"

She made a face at him, and he mimicked it back. Amberspots felt light, like something in her chest had been lifted. Joking around with her brother had always made her forget about her troubles.

"It doesn't go against the code if I'm not courting a living cat," he explained with an amused glint in his eyes.

Something in his voice felt oddly sincere, and she wondered if he was serious, but she had no time to ask, as he was already leaving, having been summoned by Fernpaw. She wished him luck, then decided to get out of the den as well. Perhaps she could still find him some herbs, after all. Maybe today won't be too bad.

Chapter 12: Slowly They Dance

Notes:

I apologise in advance, this might be confusing to read. The italics don't work really well.

Today promised to be a hot day. The sun was glowing yellow, like a reminder of the warm days to come a few moons from now, a ray of hope to get them through the dawning leaf-bare. It was comforting. Last time I saw a sunny day like this, I was still a warrior. She shook her head at the bittersweet memory of what felt like forever ago. She remembered running through brown and red leaves, wind in her pelt and blood in her ears. Running through the forest. Hearing my Clanmates call after me, tell me to slow down. Not listening, because I had to get to the Thunderpath before they did. I had to see it for myself before they arrived and I had to compose myself.

The memory of a leaf-fall day, red with leaves and blood alike, sprang back to her mind. My mouth tasted foul. I couldn't even talk, I was paralyzed. I could see nothing else than the black-and-white pelt twisted in pain, the watery eyes, the shaking breath. I stayed with her until she took her last breath. Alone, isolated, far away from camp and from our Clanmates.

She kept walking. The memory was an old one. She was used to it.

I saw my mother's eyes blank out before me. Her eyes clouded with pain as she begged me to go on, to live, to have a happy life, a mate and kits and friends. Her final whispers for Ravenwhisker's ears to catch, full of love and tenderness for her son. Her last breath, soft and peaceful. Her cold pelt. Her soft paws. Her -

Amberspots covered her ears with her paws. Stop! Stop it! I don't want to remember! Please! She closed her eyes shut and waited for the vision to disappear. Can't you let me have these last years in peace? she howled internally, but the sky had no answer. I'm too old to spare time for this nonsense! Then it stopped.

The vision had been been swallowed by a deep tiredness. It felt like every time she tried to be productive, her mind played tricks on her, and she saw the worst things imaginable. The worst things was that she was incapable of stopping it, even for a moment.

She decided to be patient with herself, even if all her body was screaming at her in anguish. She had some experience with troubling thoughts, after all. Ah! My apprenticeship, she remembered with a somewhat nostalgic sigh. Horrible, horrible memory, really. I should not be so fond of it. She remembered the burden she had felt being placed upon her shoulders, the nagging fears and anxieties, the horrible waking nightmares in which something was hurting everyone she cared about and she could do nothing to stop it. She remembered how she had felt like she had been somehow responsible for everyone in the Clan, and how badly her mind had reacted. It had sent her the most horrible feelings of guilt, and some unbearable moments of powerlessness. She remembered feeling like even the most unimportant shake of a whisker in her part could destroy mountains, how the smallest fear could convince her war was coming.

Something had snapped. I was unable to see how peaceful life was. I could only see possibilities of horror, and it felt like every one of them was on the brink of being real. I felt like I needed to stop it, but it never worked - because how could it work? It was never even a risk, it was only a fear. I was battling against a feeling - and feelings, it turns out, are the most fearsome enemies. I could never win. I could only seek deeper and deeper into my own anguish. I told Mother only. She was the only one I trusted enough to tell about my fears. One of them included betrayal, or violence, and it had spared no cat in our Clan, except for my Mother. Whatever had been convincing me of imminent doom had never been able to reach my trust for her. I told her everything.

She spared a small purr. The memory felt warm and safe. A haven, a space that was far away from the twirling of her tortured soul.

She groomed me like when I was a kit. She didn't tell me I was crazy, or get angry at me for having entertained such treacherous thoughts. She said she was there with me, and we were safe; we could watch the storm in my head pass together. It made me feel better than anything any cat could have said. It felt grounding and reassuring. This simple moment stayed in my mind for the rest of my apprenticeship. It was my safe place.

It had gotten worse afterwards, though. Just after she was made a warrior, she had started to realize how defenseless her Clanmates really were. They could fight, of course, but illnesses, storms, floods, monsters… too many things could easily kill a cat, and she had been struck with it a mere days after she had been given her new name. Beechkit has a sprained ankle made her worry he had been in danger, with his habit of playing away from his mother's watch. What if he had been playing close to the patch of brambles? He could have been severely injured! Tigerkit is born but what if she cannot breathe properly? What if she gets stomped on and dies? She looks so small and pink, she could be sick - oh StarClan, is she sick? Is it contagious? What if it is? What can the Clan do, what could Amberspots do? Would she have to bring her deep into the forest to isolate her and cure her without risking her Clanmates' lives? Moonpaw went hunting, it could be dangerous. What if she fails to come back? What if she strays onto the Thunderpath and she dies? I hear Whitewhisker speaking to her mate, what if she's sick, and what she heard was actually the turtles of a dying cat? What if she's angry at Amberspots for being such an irritating, treacherous bundle of fur (which she would deserve, but she still dreaded it) and she's hissing and not talking? Coldstar is coughing. Was she okay? Was she safe? Should she go check on her? But what if she made the situation worse? She should stay quiet and not move a muscle.

And by "not a muscle", I really meant "not a muscle". No moving, no turning, no looking away. I would make myself as small as possible, as though that would stop whatever harm from reaching her. It felt like any movement on my part would provoke a catastrophe: a fire, a flood, a sickness. I felt like I was always in the brink of causing something awful, and it tore me apart. I had my suspicions that none of it was real, but the fears were so powerful that I did not dare oppose this curse I was sure had been placed upon me.

She sighed at the memories of her deep anguish, which had stooped low. So low, in fact, that she had considered leaving. She couldn't bear the fears anymore: they were ruining her life. I had to protect the Clan, and if the curse said I needed to stop eating, I stopped eating. If it said i needed to turn left, I turned left. If it said I had to say something, I said something. I could not stop, because it felt like StarClan itself was telling me to be still. I had to leave: it was the only way. She remembered she had brought it up to the cream-colored molly, who had stared at her with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"I'm scared I'm not a good influence to the Clan anymore", she had said with shame. "I ask that you give me the permission to go to the edge of the forest and stay there forever."
"Amberspots, what do you mean?" the leader had said.

And, in that moment, she had known that she has been ridiculous. All of this had been a nightmare. None of it was real. She had been thoroughly ashamed: had she really disturbed the leader of the Clan for such a stupid thought?

"I've…" She had lowered her eyes, guilt ebbing away at her somber mood, until all she could feel was despair, and a crushing sense of doom.

What had become of her reality? Was everything she had felt was real - the paranoia, the fear, the guilt - just a product of her imagination? Her reality was crumbling before her eyes, and she had felt so, so ashamed.

"Please, sit" the leader had said, beckoning her over to the wide nest she was sitting on. "Don't be afraid to make yourself comfortable. I'm only a few moons older than you, I'm nothing to be scared of," she had added, her eyes warm and sympathetic.

That was true, they had once shared a den together, but the young warrior had been too embarrassed to say it. To think that she had slept so close to the leader without addressing her with the proper formalities, and had joked with her with familiarity like an equal. What a fool she had been - unable to see how great a cat she would be. But the leader stared at her with warm orange eyes, and she knew that she had nothing to fear indeed. They had once been friends.

She had sat down, her heart in her throat.

"I've been having these nightmares. Or, thoughts, to be more precise. I've been feeling like everything is at risk of being destroyed, and like every cat is a possible threat. I've been wondering if they really are. But… it's really not the way a Clan cat should behave. I'm incredibly sorry," she had meowed.

She didn't want Coldstar to have to look at her, to be scarred by the memory of the disgusting, horrible eyes of such a traitor, so she had bowed deeply, until her whiskers touched the floor.

"Is something happening in the Clan?" Coldstar had asked, her eyes flashing with a hint of stress.

Amberspots had felt guilty for having confused her leader, for having brought her at her level - unable to resist the fear and the paranoia. She felt like she had broken down the leader's mind with her absurdity, and she wished she would disappear into the ground and stay there forever. She had struggled to explain.

"I'm sorry, Coldstar. I'm the one to blame: nothing's happening except in my head. I've been dreaming - well, imagining - that everything goes to ash, and that everyone in the Clan is in pain, or angry." She had shook her head, overcome with frustration and grief. "It's not an omen - it's more like a daydream. It's really bad. Please, I wish to leave and let you all be okay. I bring destruction and fear wherever I go. Without me, the Clan will be safer. I can't bear to see them in danger. I beg you, Coldstar, please don't let this happen to our Clan."

She hadn't been aware of the leader's thoughtful face, as she had been struggling with a strange sense of ego. Why does it feel like I should accept this as part of who I am? This is awful. I shouldn't simply accept this as who I am, or walk around admitting it. It's horrible - I can't boast about being a traitor! Being cruel is just… not something to boast about. I should be fighting it, or running away, not considering it like a crooked ear and talk about it like it's a natural thing, I -

Coldstar spoke. "I have decided," she meowed in her clear voice, that had not yet been rendered hoarse by the years, but that still held her distinctive kindness in it, "that you will be in charge of patrol duty for half a moon."

Amberspots had looked up at her leader, and although she would never doubt the word of her leader, she was still unconvinced. What? Patrol duty? But I'm… how is this…? I thought she would shoo me away, or treat it like a passing illness. But… patrol duty? How am I worthy of such a task?

"I think that being in charge of things will make you have more control over your fears. If you can control the Clan's tasks for a period of time, perhaps you will find it that your fears are not uncontrollable, after all."

She had spoken with such a simple, quiet authority that Amberspots had been baffled. How is this okay? she cried internally. How does this solve anything? How does this make me better, or make the Clan safe? She did not doubt the decision of her leader, but she still felt worried for her friends' safety. What if this doesn't solve anything?

But Coldstar had flicked her tail, showing that she had made her decision. Amberspots had bowed and turned to leave. But, before she had completed her exit, the molly's clear mew had rang out one last time.

"I'm happy you told me about this. I... I was feeling alone with this issue myself. Do come back in half a moon for your report, and you may even come in early. It'll be a delight to talk to you again."

Then she had bowed her head in goodbye, and Amberspots, slightly flustered, had left for the sun-kissed clearing once more.

The memory had kept its original warmth, even though it was now soiled by moons of regret. It had been the start of her friendship with the leader, a very close friendship that had lasted for many moons, but with Twilightpaw -

She shook herself. Herbs. I was fetching herbs. This doesn't seem to actually happen very often these days, does it? she thought with amusement, thinking back to the times she had tried to go find some remedies but had failed. She had even forgotten why she had been wanting to go in the first place. A dream I had, she remembered.

She gave herself a few licks on the shoulder. Well, enough dwelling on about it. I'll do it right now. No take-backs this time. And she headed resolutely to the warrior's den without a moment's hesitation.

Chapter 13: Fleeting Shadows and Darkened Roots

Notes:

This one is huge!! It's also one of the last pre-weitten chapters for the hiatus, so I'll get back to writing new ones shortly!! Yay, writing!!

It's been a while since I've done this, so I hope it'll be to your liking. Anyways, enjoy this chapter, the next one might be more chaotic!!

She entered the warriors' den, noticing the lack of Tigerstorm's scent in its walls. She had thought she could ask the young molly to accompany her, and they would spend a nice morning together. Perhaps it would be like nothing had changed; they would be again a warrior and a 'paw, talking about Clan life and battle moves or gossiping about the previous Gathering. It was a nice thought, but it would stay this way for today. Her friend had left already. I hoped she would be here today, and we could spend some time like we used to. I shouldn't be so selfish, though. I should be happy she's busy: it means she's not bored with her day. Really, Amberspots, you fox-heart. You're supposed to be a warrior, not a rogue. Show some compassion. Repressing a groan, Amberspots thought that she would have to ask someone else to accompany her instead. There was nobody in the den, so she turned to leave. I should have asked Moon-eye first, instead of coming in here unprepared.

As she felt the familiar prickle of the entrance's bramble walls around her shoulders, she realized how out of place she was. Not simply because she couldn't quite fit in the entrance anymore, but because it wasn't her den. She felt like she had tresspassed. What was she thinking, entering without even asking someone first? Elders may be allowed to come and go as they please, but it still feels wrong. What if I bother the warriors? They don't need an elder in their paws. How entitled must I be to enter here like it's my den, like I have any purpose ordering cats around, for any reason. Something in her mind was burning, like an old wound. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous. Why was she still acting like a warrior?

Thinking about her time as a warrior made her skin crawl. Back then, she had thought herself to be a good warrior, and a good friend, but she had the nagging suspicion tha . She had just been ordering everyone around since the beginning. Not only when I was deputy. I think it's why I was given Twilightpaw as an apprentice. No other cat was able to --, she thought, fiddling with the words. She didn't want to imply that she had only agreed to train her out if duty, or that no other cat had wanted to train her, or that she had been an awful apprentice to her. She had been neither of those things. She was a wonderful student and a strong, lively cat, Amberspots thought with pride. She didn't like training much, but… wait.

The question she didn't dare to ask was whether she used to be . Maybe she was the only one who would have been able to withstand my training, and not the other way around. The thought had come up unexpectedly, but she still welcomed it, and it made her think about a lot of other unpleasant realities. I always am trying to order cats around, am I not? Trying to get to lead them, to force them to do my bidding. I even applied for deputyship. A good leader must not be authoritative, but enable cats to use their own freedom for their own causes, and secure them. I have done neither of these things. I've just daydreamed about being in authority like a fool. There is no excuse, and no misinterpretation that could make this okay. Even now, I try to order my thoughts around. I try to force them to be a certain way. I can't even let them be, I have to try and change them. What a fool I am, and a complete mouse-brain. Even in my own head, I give myself full authority. What does that say about me? Even my paranoia was based in the notion that I somehow had control over the Clan and the forest.

I'm just a fool, expecting everything to go down the way I like it. And had she really expected that whomever she asked to accompany her would agree? She had no authority anymore, it wasn't her place to ask, and they would have to ask the deputy anyways, and maybe they would even have to cancel their patrols. She'd just bother them with those unnecessary steps when she should have asked Moon-eye herself. Thinking things were simple like they used to be.

She looked around the empty clearing. Everyone is busy, she thought. She turned around and prepared to leave, but before she did so, she cast a bittersweet look at the familiar nests of the warrior's den. Not so long ago, she had slept in this very den. It feels like forever ago. She sighed, then made her way towards the elder's den.

"Amberspots!" Bluefeather meowed suddenly, startling the elder.

Amberspots turned around and saw that the tortoiseshell warrior was emerging from the elders' den.

"Bluefeather!" she greeted the molly. "Have you come back from visiting Whitewhisker and Molefang?" she asked, although the answer was obvious; Bluefeather had always taken special care of her grandparents, even in her youth. Not like I did.
"Actually, I wasn't", she answered against all odds. "I was looking for you."

Her surprise passing, Amberspots let out a purr.

"Ah, is it about ticks? I assure you, I'm fairly clean. I washed my pelt myself", she added, looking at her shoulder for good measure.

No ticks there, she thought with a mixture of pride and anticipation. It wouldn't be long until the annoying insects caught up on the newest arrival in the den, and left their hosts for fresh blood. She had always had a knack for catching everyone's ticks, even with her back being as scarred and fur-less as it was. She had had a small break after she had changed her bedding, but she had had enough bad surprises to reasonably expect a tick-free moon. I can't wait, she thought sarcastically, shuddering at the thought of receiving yet another cleaning session. She hated bile.

"No, I… I was thinking of going to the forest today," she meowed in a strange voice. "I wanted to get some herbs to Ravenwhisker, and I thought you might want to come with me," she added hopefully.

There was something that reminded her of spoiled milk and bad heartache in the way she spoke, and Amberspots couldn't help but feel worried. Is something the matter? She never seeks me out. Well, she has been friendly these days. Perhaps she changed her mind. But no matter. It'll be nice to speak to her again. Our conversations are quite nice. So she nodded and walked towards the young cat.

"What herbs do you need?" she asked as the molly guided her towards the exit. "I know the best spots. Ravenwhisker used to take me herb-gathering back in our youth," she added fondly.

Then she remembered that Bluepaw had been a medicine cat apprentice and had done this exact same thing herself. She felt shame wash over her. I'm a mouse-brain. Then she thought about how maybe Bluefeather was remembering how she had used to be Ravenwhisker's apprentice and had actually done this exact same thing she just had said. At the thought that the young cat might feel bitter or upset about her falling-out with the old tom, she winced and bit back a confused mess of apologies. How thoughtful of me, forgetting things like this.

"I'm sorry," she meowed. "I didn't think about…"

Bluefeather shook her head.

"It's fine, I was just thinking about Twilightpaw. It's been a year since her… since she left. I thought… I thought we could share memories, if you want to."

Amberspots understood and nodded. As they walked towards the forest, Amberspots found herself deep in thought. Young cats do badly with grief. It can shape their lives. At my age, cats begin to accept it. It's part of our lives. But the first losses always hurt the worst. Twilightpaw had been her first. I had seen battle already. Cats dying and hurting. It stopped being unusual. But one death is already one too many. We would do well without it, I reckon. Cats living in peace, talking as friends, without any of this fighting. I suppose this is why most elders like their retirement. It feels peaceful. Battle and conflict start to feel pointless after a time. I wonder if younger cats would change their mindsets if they knew what awaited them: a life of content and calm away from the battlefield. Would they feel as though it matters not to fight? Would they respect their elders more? She thought of how mentors spoke of elders, when their apprentices complained about having to tend to them. "One day, it'll be you in there. You'll be glad youngsters will be there to help you." Others - older, more experienced cats, who often saw their own parents become elders - said: "They deserve your respect. They fought well and hard for their Clan. Taking care of them should be an honor, not a chore." Perhaps… perhaps -

"You know, her eyes used to sparkle in sunlight, like the fire that Twolegs make," Bluefeather mused. "They looked wonderful. And she used to sit here, when she was waiting for you to arrive." She gestured to a clump of ferns near the apprentices' den. "She always looked so strong in this light, and so pretty, too. I thought she was the most marvelous cat in the forest. She was brave, and kind, and funny. She was so clever, she could outplan any of us apprentices in a battle. She had those shoulders that could smack any cat over," she reminisced.
"She would have been an amazing warrior," Amberspots answered with a nod, her voice heavy.
"She should have been," Bluefeather agreed, her eyes bleak. "It… it should have turned out better. It wasn't supposed to happen," she muttered. "What kind of medicine cat can't treat their own patients? We failed StarClan that day."
"You and Ravenwhisker did your best," she protested. "It was my fault. I should have come back faster to come back with the remedy."
"But we should have done more," she whispered. "She should be alive -- she should be here with us, walking in the forest, feel the earth under her paws and breathe the air that catches her pelt, and joke about training and fight moves and how her limbs are so sore she can't move but run around anyways. She should be here, with me, in the warrior's den. I should still smell her scent when I wake up and see her pelt in the sunshine and look in her eyes, and… I should still have her next to me. It's… it's not fair. How can something like this happen? How can StarClan be so cruel? How can they tolerate something like this?"

She looked down in frustration, anger ebbing down to form some sort of bittersweetness that washed away all the other emotions she could have been feeling.

"Sometimes, I dream that she's still alive. That we're together in the warrior's den, and we cuddle to sleep every night. That we become mates, and have tons of little kittens together. We raise them in the nursery, and we give them their first taste of mouse… She sighed. "I'm sure she didn't feel that way about me, though. But… I couldn't stop imagining it. I'm sure she wouldn't have minded it too much: she would have loved to have kits, liked the little furballs. She would have been so happy to hear their first words. I think she secretly liked the idea of arguing with a kit. Found it interesting. She said they had much more in their little heads than we give them credit for. It would be mind-opening, she said, to be able to see the world through new eyes, and to see how much Clan life really made sense."

Amberspots hummed. "I remember she used to say that the youngest minds are often the wisest."

Bluefeather purred, lighting up at the memory. "The apprentices told her she only said that because she was the youngest of us, and she wanted to sound better than she was. I think they were somewhat right, but that didn't stop her from thinking it."
"She was quite stubborn when she set her mind to it," Amberspots confirmed. "One time, she didn't want to carry our moss back to camp, so she hid under a tree. It was very dark, mind you, and it took me a few minutes to find her again. When I did, I scolded her for running off on her own. It could have been dangerous. What if an owl or a fox had spotted her?"

She purred in remembrance of her former apprentice's expression, how she had held her gaze in assurance, her shoulders puffed in defiance.

"She said that she was tired, and that it wasn't fair to make her carry all this moss after a full day of training. She asked that we do it another day. I said no," she added with a half-hearted purr. "Perhaps I shouldn't have done that. I really hated to make her do things against her will."

She tugged at a plant to distract herself from her guilt. Her own apprentice, and she had to be rude to her and mess it all up. What a mark it left on the Clan. What a good example.

"Mentors do that," Bluefeather said, nodding. "It wouldn't be a Clan without it."
"That may be true," Amberspots agreed. "Although you'd never hear her say that," she added with a fond purr. "She really hated chores, the poor thing. But I still made her carry that moss all the way back to camp. She didn't complain anymore, even when her pelt got wet with rainwater from the moss. When we got back to camp, I told her to take all our finding to the elders and see if their bedding needed changing. She agreed and saw to it. I was suspicious, of course, but I didn't do anything. She had had a full day of training, after all, and the less I had to order her around, the better. I went to eat with the leader. I was deputy back then," she explained, feeling the usual bitterness at her comment, but she shrugged it off.

She clawed a hole under a plant that Bluefeather had guided her to, and dug it out faster than she had expected. Bluefeather took it in her jaws as the elder turned to another one of the herbs to dig it out. She continued her task, and as she noticed Bluefeather's glowing eyes in the shadows, she saw a flickering glint in them, a spark of interest. I'm honestly surprised. She seems to like my story. That would be the first time this sort of anecdote interests someone, exceptions aside. She kept going with renewed enthusiasm.

"I had a pleasant time with the leader. But when we had finished, I went back to the elders' den, and what did I see? Twilightpaw was listening to a tale, her belly full, and her eyes closed as though she was about to sleep. I thought she had forgotten her duties, and I was about to scold her, but then I saw that she had refreshed all the beddings with precision, with the leftover moss curled neatly in a ball to quench the elders' thirst. She had also given the elders a full tick wash and had brought them food for the night - all in the span of a quick meal. That shocked me quite a lot - I had only asked for her to do the bedding, and even then, I hadn't expected her to be so thorough with her task, seeing as she really hated doing these sorts of things. But here she was, asleep quietly after her little moment of zealousness. So I told myself, maybe there was something I hadn't seen in her before. Maybe she was more than the hot-headed, disobedient apprentice I thought she was. She certainly was all of these things, and more, but she had a kind side to her that I had neglected to notice until then."

Amberspots sighed in amusement, thinking about her late apprentice's antics. She gave back her pawful of plants and watched as Bluefeather delicately folded them as to not tear their fragile Leaves.

"I started paying more attention to her after that. She really had something hidden under her brashness. Not even hidden, in fact - it was fairly obvious, if you looked at her in the eye and talked with her for some time. She really was something else, Im quite a number of ways. Sometimes, I wonder how this wasn't common knowledge amongst us. But again, we often fail to see the truth under the first impression. Cats are much deeper than what they lead to believe. Perhaps they didn't take the time to truly see her."

Bluefeather shrugged.

"That wouldn't be new. We're all a bit ignorant of each other here. It doesn't take much for someone to have their true selves be overlooked because of some obvious, external trait. Sometimes, it feels like nobody really knows anyone."
"Perhaps we don't", she mused. "But would that really be so bad? We all support and fight for each other, even if we don't really see each other for what we are. It doesn't change that."

Bluefeather nodded. " I suppose. It's more important for young cats than for … you", she finished tentatively.
"Old cats, young one. Old, yes. You can say it as many times as you like. We are old, see; we can't hide it at this age anymore."

She winked. Nowadays, it seemed like Ravenwhisker's signature gesture, but it had been hers long before. Bluefeather snorted in laughter and picked back up the leaves she had carefully placed on a root to speak more clearly.

"It does seem like belonging is more important to young cats, yes," she added as they started to walk back to camp. "Though I reckon you're almost a full-grown cat now. You must have other preoccupations coming to mind?"
"Leaves and nightmares, mostly", Bluefeather answered in a mutter. "I suppose this is the age when cats want to feel useful, to have a secured place in the Clan- I can't say I'm any different, really. I keep thinking about my love for herbs and how I can put it to good use. It's not a bad thing, but I can't help but wonder if this sudden need is making me miss out on something else, something better. I just can't find what this something better is for the life of me. I would love to skip through to a more mature, peaceful part of myself, but that's not really working out, I suppose. Not that it had any chances of working, really. That would be ridiculous. I can't escape my age," she added in a somber whisper.

Amberspots flinched at how much that was true. If she could turn back time, StarClan knew she would have, for her friends and her brother. So they would be young and healthy again. And so she would have all her mobility and none of those hideous scars she hated for what they meant - how reckless and stupid she had been. All those stupid things she wished she could reverse, but none of them could be.

"None of us can," she answered, with a pang of regret.

And together, they entered the camp again.

Chapter 14: Starlit Path

Someone was walking in Ravenwhisker's den, but it wasn't the medicine cat. It was Fernpaw; the young molly was sitting near the wall, looking as though she was listening intently to something. She seemed very eager to listen to whomever was speaking. It's Ravenwhisker, Amberspots guessed instantly. Who else would she be listening to? I should have seen it coming. She's been wanting to be his apprentice for ages. She looked at Bluefeather, who looked crestfallen. The young molly took a few steps towards the den, dropped her herbs and turned to Amberspots, her eyes dark with sadness.

-Would you mind telling Ravenwhisker that we've returned? I've got to go, she meowed.
-Of course, answered Amberspots, her heart aching for the young cat. May StarClan light your path, she added uselessly, trying to find words to tell her she understood her grief. StarClan knows this must break her heart.

Bluefeather sighed and stalked back to her nest. Amberspots took the herbs and entered the den without daring to look back, afraid of the sadness she saw in the young cat's eyes. It reminded her too much of her own. I must be selfish to think like this. But… she had said "but" without actually having something to say for herself. There's no excuse, is there? I'm a horrible cat. And even saying this isn't changing anything.

She closed her eyes and tried to place her head on her paw, but something stopped her: a voice, screaming at her to be more thoughtful. Her own voice, as loud as someone else's, screaming into her mind in frustration. This is going to hurt you, you stupid cat! Can't you just be something else? You know kindness -- that thing you've never known? How about you detail all the bad things you did, huh? Wouldn't that be lovely?

She wanted to scream, to cry. Everything was too much, and there was no way she could spell it out without being shunned out of existence by everyone else. So she just bit the inside of her cheek hard to feel like she had a grip on things. She was ridiculous, but so what? She was old, she would die anyways. Who cared about what happened in her head?

She half-wished she could scream endlessly to get everything out, but the rest of her only wanted Ravenwhisker to come back and look at the herbs already. Maybe then she would go to sleep - that would feel better, would it not? And no matter: shunning herself internally felt better than ignoring it, so she let it go. It was so much worse to ignore it… well, for herself. She knew that no cat wanted to have anything to do with someone who was always complaining about this or that, but -- and whatever. Everyone outside was just talking so loud and she couldn't take it.

She had never wished to be somewhere else than today. And of course she knew that things weren't so bad, in that sense that nobody was doing anything wrong. But she was feeling bad -- but that was her own problem, was it not? She was the one on the wrong, so surely it must not be so bad?

She decided she would just go take a walk later on to ease her worries and let out a sigh. Sometimes, it felt like everything was spinning out of control, like her mind was a storm and it was progressively getting worse. Perhaps it would happen eventually but she hoped not. Or not soon, at least.

She pricked her ears for sounds of pawsteps down the herb stash, but she could only hear faint mews. They had disappeared there a few seconds earlier, and she could only hope they would come back again soon. She did not want to stay here too long: without Ravenwhisker here, she felt like she wasn't supposed to be here. That, and she was very tired. I'm sure I'll have time to sleep later.

She curled her toes on the matted soil, trying to make herself busy. She made little holes on the ground, then filled them up again, only to claw it a second time. It wasn't the most fun activity, but it was still less boring than waiting. She felt like a kit for playing like this, but she refused to feel bad.

After what felt like an eternity, she saw her brother's sleek pelt shine against the back walls. By then, Amberspots had no other motivation than going back to sleep, feeling exhausted and like her mind was made of moss. She gave Ravenwhisker and Fernpaw the mouthful of herbs, briefly explained what they were and why she had some, then said her goodbyes before stalking away to her den.

She wondered why she was so tired. It wasn't the memories of Twilightpaw: she had gotten used to them. She had been grieving for a long time, after all, and she wasn't shocked by those kinds of feelings anymore. Perhaps it was to see Ravenwhisker with a apprentice? (Or a soon-to-be one anyways) Perhaps she was jealous. Oh, come on. That would be ridiculous. I'm much too old for this.

She decided to just settle down in her nest and close her eyes again. Her mind took her back to her kithood. She saw herself playing with her brother near the nursery, with their mother watching them from the entrance.

-Mum! Look! I caught this butterfly! Amberkit was bragging, dragging the insect to her mother so she could take a better look.

She looked up at Breezetail, hoping she would praise her. I've always been a weird kit. Why would I want her to praise me like that? It's not how a Clan cat should behave, is it? Why did I even do that? Sometimes, I worry I was ruining Ravenwhisker's childhood with my antics. Both battling for Mum's attention. It's how kits are, but I should have known better.

She saw her brother sitting near, playing with a leaf. Amberspots wondered if he was envious. I was always screaming for Mum's attention. Maybe he felt like he hadn't any and I was taking it all? Perhaps it was obvious, but Amberspots had never been good at things like that.

They had always played together as kits, but during apprenticeship, they had somewhat grown apart. That was to be expected: they were not training with the same mentors. And kits were supposed to grow apart. They couldn't be best friends forever, could they? That would be too good. And well… Cats weren't like that. Cats didn't stay the same, they started to like different things, and sometimes they got into fights. We fought, sometimes. I wish we hadn't. But it was always over soon. It just… didn't feel good. I should have apologized more. I wasn't a good friend, I think. Of course, young cats aren't always the best at talking to each other, and perhaps it was only natural that we drifted apart for a while, but… I just didn't want to lose my brother. I didn't know that back the, I was more focused on making new friends and other useless stuff like that. I should have known that I already had one.

She remembered the times they helped each other with training. Well, I'll give you that one, dream. We were pretty close, I guess. It's just… I don't know. Siblings aren't "best friends" in the way other cats are. They don't talk. They just do things together, but they bottle up. They take each other for granted most of the times. They do talk, but it's not the same. Except for apprenticeship: sometimes, we both were stressed, and it somewhat made us a team. We had to get past it so we could make Mum proud, so we helped each other.

She looked and saw that they were huddled together. Mum died. It brought us back together. We talked more after that. We became better friends than before. Maybe it's because losing a parent can… what am I saying? I don't know. Or do I? Whatever. Did we even get close? Well, we did. But not before a long, long time. We became better friends after we both finished our apprenticeship, but it became kind of hard to talk to each other. But we did try. I'll give us that.

She didn't want to look, but there she was, dragging a mole to the medicine den.

-Come eat, young Amberspots said. It's fresh. Wait, are you busy? What's that? It looks cool, she said, peeking at the green goo he was chewing.

Young Ravenwhisker gestured to the side of the den, concentrated on finishing his poultice, perhaps slightly irritated at her commentary. I was taking his poultice time to get him to talk to me. Guess he found me overbearing. And, well - I must have been really annoying. I talked too much, when I was trying to get him to be my friend again. I was hoping we could share things and be closer, like siblings could be - but I didn't really do it properly.

-Okay, he muttered between his teeth. I'll come out, just let me finish my poultice.

Young Amberspots looked anxious as she sat down near the wall. She used to think he hated her - seeing as he looked annoyed every time she spoke to him. Well, that makes sense. I always tried to talk to him while he was busy. How can a cat respond when they get interrupted doing the things they like? She had thought that asking him about what he was doing would get him to share about his activity, and he would be happy to know that she was admiring his passion, but it came out wrong every time. Oh, I did catch up eventually, but I still made mistakes.

Then, they had grown older, and their pelts had started to turn gray. Only then had they started to become friends -- real friends. The reality of having siblings that every cat knew except for the siblings themselves had dawned upon them with age: that they cared a lot for each other. It was easy to overlook, but with age, they saw that sometimes, the only cats they could count on were their family. They had helped each other through their hardships, Ravenwhisker about Bluepaw and Amberspots about Twilightpaw, and eventually, they had realized that they were good friends, after all.

She didn't know why she thought of this today, but she was happy she had. It somewhat reassured her to think back at her friendship with her brother, and it made her certain once again that her dream, where she had felt such coldness from him, was just a nightmare. It had been unexpected to think about such a thing today, but sometimes, her thoughts became humbles and stopped being organised. She thought about things that were unrelated to anything else, or had very little connection together. It could ruin her thought process and make her feel ridiculous.

On this case, the sudden whirl of thoughts made her feel scared, and she screamed for help. I'm losing my mind. I'm dying. I'm going crazy. Everything is out of control and I'm not getting better. She shouted for Ravenwhisker, for Bluefeather, for anyone to come help her. But she felt helpless and alone. She felt frail. And the cats around her weren't listening at all. They were barely twitching their whiskers. Of course they're not. I never asked for help. They're all busy. Breaking into a run, she circled the clearing, frantic, and suddenly she realized she remembered nothing. Her nest was gone. Nothing smelled like it used to be. Cats were strange and didn't look at her. I have no place here anymore. This isn't home. There's no cat i know here. No smells i remember. There's nothing from my time. I'm going to die alone and miserable.

And then she woke up in her nest and proceeded to throw up.

Notes:

Is this coherent? No idea. The fun thing with this fanfiction is that nothing can be too out-of-placd since it's stated that Amberspots had difficulty making sense to herself. So yay!! Also YAY IM BACK WOOHOO I'll have to remember what the plot was though... Anyways enjoy!!! Thanks for waiting for me you're all lovely!!

Chapter 15: Sunlit Rocks

Notes:

In the last chapter, Amberspots left the camp to go on a walk after she brought the herbs to Ravenwhisker. She fell asleep afterwards.

I point this out since it wasn't what I wrote un the last chapter. Amberspots had gone straight to bed. But the Canonical version that I'll rewrite soon is that she goes in the forest and falls asleep there.

That said, enjoy!!! An extra-long chapter this time.

Two mollies, huddled on a white stone, heads pressed together, pelts ragged and shining in the morning sun. They were talking with their close together; one could see their eyes sparkling between the dark shadows the sky cast. One of them had her nose protectively pressed against the other molly's headfur, her orange eyes warm aglow with love.

-This was a bad idea, the first molly said, her voice young but her eyes full of so much worry. We should not have done this. This was a mistake.
-Believe, my dear Amberspots. Believe in StarClan that it will be alright.
-What if they get hurt, or they fall ill? So many things could happen that make me afraid. I have not enough experience, I will only brings disaster upon them. Please, my friend. They do not need me as they need you.

The second molly looked contemplatively at the clearing, oozing with dust, vibrating with the pawsteps of every cat marching upon it.

-I trust you, she said simply, without averting her eyes. Don't you trust me to trust you?

Amberspots looked down in shame.

-I'm afraid that's not quite what I meant. You're an amazing leader. They need your strength to guide them through the hard times. Without someone like you at their head, they'll surely perish, or go mad.
-I do believe they'll find a way to survive, Coldstar pointed out with a soft laugh. They're not quite so helpless once you get to know them. I'm sure they'd survive for a moon or two.

The younger molly looked up tentatively, squinting under the sun's bite, and met Coldstar's friendly gaze with her own.

-I thought the purpose of a leader was to take care of everyone, and have everything under control - to prevent anything before it even happens. To protect them from dangers before they have a chance to learn about it.

Coldstar nodded peacefully.

-Not quite.

Amberspots locked eyes with her; orange eyes meet amber.

-What is it, then?

Coldstar purred, her eyes glinting.

-Nothing. A good leader is nothing but what her Clan makes of her. She gets asked for a fish and she gives two; she's told to make a nest and she builds a camp. Being a good leader is seeing what cats expect of you, and then making that better, without judgement, without restraint, and from there will come the assurance.
-Surely there must be something else to it? Amberspots protested in frustration. How am I supposed to know if what I do is right? What if I make bad decisions, or immoral ones, because no cat told me to, so they could not make me stop? It's so frustrating. I can't possibly be making the right choices if I'm only doing what people want me to do. Where do the values go in this? The peace? The foresight? They'll -- what if they want me to take bad decisions? How do I know I'll remain a good leader -- a good cat?

Coldstar twitched her whiskers.

-Like this.

She looked at her friend in affection, and for a second, one could see the rich colors of fire and the deep sunset of leaf-fall that made up her pelt reflected in the molly's eyes, and one could not help but wonder if such a beautiful sunset was what she saw when she laid eyes on the molly. One could see how much warmth she held for her, and for a moment, this warmth seemed to embrace the ginger molly in a delicate breeze. When the cream cat started to speak, her words sang like droplets, cold and refreshing against the leaf-fall sky that was her pelt.

-Hear your words: you say you know not if you would make the right decisions. This is how you'll know you're on the right path. Horrendous cats never doubt their righteousness. As long as you doubt, you'll know your heart is on the right place.

The molly seemed touched.

-Coldstar…
-You mustn't doubt yourself, just like I have never doubted you.

They shared an affectionate headbutt as clouds passed by in the sky and cast soft shadows on the forest below. Everything was calm, it almost felt like a dream. And perhaps it was one. Cats were calmly walking past one another, sharing prey from the heap, exchanging soft words between the pale branches.

They talked ever-so-softly, making every one of their words seem like it was just an illusion of the wind, as the cats were slipping between shadows and bushes, busying themselves with hard work or a well-earned relaxation. At the edge of the clearing, an old molly watched the Highrock from afar, gazing down on the gigantic rock with hard, bitter eyes. She was almost snarling at it as she scrambled to her paws to turn further away from the agitation of the camp.

-It was all perfect, but then you came along and ruined it. You weren't made for it then and you never have been. You shouldn't have said yes. You let her down and you ruined everything. And now you've got to fix the mess you've made. Great going, Amberspots.

She looked away with a glint in her eyes and began her long, lonely walk without sparing another glance for her Clanmates, headed down the cliff and disappeared in a flurry of leaf noises. There was nothing more now to be heard, other than a dejected "And now you're talking to yourself". And perhaps there was nothing more anyone needed to hear. Mistakes stained a cat forever; why bother looking at what they had been before them?

*

Amberspots remembered the bitter taste of bile and the freezing touch of a water-soaked ball of moss. She might have also seen flashes of soft sand-colored paws. Probably Fernpaw. Though she couldn't guess for the life of her why she would be taking care of her in her time of need. Perhaps she wants to learn how to cure care? Or maybe she's just curious. That's why Bluefeather chose the path, after all. Then she remembered her brother had announced her she was going to be his new apprentice. Or had he? Sometimes, it's hard to remember what really happened between all the strange dreams and such.

This reminded her that her brother was probably there, too. She lightened up and tried to look around, but a sudden dizziness made her stop dead in her tracks. She felt an urge to eject her stomach's contents on the floor again and chose to sit down again until she had a better idea of her surroundings. The medicine den, obviously. He always keeps his patients on the same side of the wall. I know where I am. I just hope there isn't a bile-sealed ball or a half-eaten mouse sitting around here somewhere that I could crush. Wouldn't want to ruin any cat's day again. Why was she saying "again"? That was a great question.

Speaking of questions. She could hear Tigerstorm's footsteps outside the den. She felt a purr rise in her throat and strained her ears to listen to her protégée's voice.

-She's got a smoke infection, someone said in a strange voice. It's quite severe. I don't suggest anyone come inside to see her. She needs to rest.
-She'll be fine, said Ravenwhisker. She only needs a bit of rest and a good meal. Tomorrow, she'll be back on her paws. I'll tell her you have come. She'll be glad to hear it.
-I can hear, Amberspots rasped from wherever she was. You can come in if I'm not dying, as long as you don't mind the smell.

She heard shuffling, and suddenly, the smell of something very orange reached her nostrils; unsurprisingly, the softer smell of Beavertail flooded the room a few moments after.

-I'm doing my best, you know, muttered Ravenwhisker with a purr. You fox-heart, you don't care about my hard work. Warrior-brain, he murmured to her ear as to not insult everyone else.
-Medicine cat face, she teased back before stopping herself.

She found it harder to breathe after talking, and soon she was ejecting warm, gooey bile from her throat. The smell alone would have had caused another eruption had Ravenwhisker not dabbed her whiskers with the perfumed stems of a flower beforehand. Amberspots had not enough strength to thank him, but her whiskers quivered gratefully. She heard a purr, then the shimmer of short fur, as Ravenwhisker replace some of the bedding. She tried to roll over to give him more space to work. As she did so, she heard Beavertail murmur something to Tigerstorm, his voice careful.

-She must be exhausted. The smoke infection must be draining. We should come back later and let her rest.
-Come over here, I'm not dead yet, Amberspots complained. Come, come -- pay a old molly a visit. I don't bite.

She tried to open her eyes to slits, and purred happily when the first thing she saw was a pair of bright blue eyes looking back at her with both happiness and concern.

-Amberspots! Tigerstorm exclaimed, pressing her muzzle to her shoulder. Here you are! When you didn't come back from your walk, I got so worried, but Bluefeather offered to search for you, so it was better, but then I thought you were dead or a fox had eaten you and I almost cried, but Fernpaw said we had to have faith and -- where's Bluepaw? Bluefeather, she corrected herself. She said she would come back after she found you.
-Is she still in the forest? Should we send someone to look for her, too? fretted Beavertail anxiously.
-I was making dirt, Bluefeather interrupted with an annoyed tone. Seriously -- I was gone for five seconds, Tigerstorm.

Amberspots heard a careful sniff near her muzzle and deduced that Bluefeather was searching for odd-smelling mucus. Probably out of habit. Or… maybe she still thinks Ravenwhisker can't work fast enough on his own. Regardless of the reason, she seemed to be doing a full checkup of the old molly.

-Did you give her something for her pads? She needs nothing more than that. Her illness is emotional, not physical, she criticized.

Suddenly, her tone was anxious and concerned. Ravenwhisker's pawsteps buzzed near, until he seemed to be leading her away. Fernpaw seemed to be doing the same thing, beckoning the group over to the outside of the den in soft whispers.

-I'm doing everything I can, she heard him promise softly. As long as I have a say in it, she'll be cured.

There was nothing, then a soft "Thanks, Ravenwhisker", before Bluefeather's pawsteps became distant. Tigerstorm strayed a few seconds more to nuzzle the elder's shoulder, then left, her fear-scent almost stronger than the perfumed of the flower stems under her nose.

-She'll be fine, right? her quivering voice rang out from far away.
-I hope so, Beavertail answered sadly.

Something familiar pressed against her chest, and Amberspots guessed Ravenwhisker was giving her a poultice for her infection. She couldn't hear him, however, as soon enough, her exhaustion had caught up with her, and she was falling into a deep sleep again.

*

-The deputy before me - well, he was only Graystalk back then, but you called him Graystar - used to have anxiety. He worried about his Clanmates day and night, to the point of losing sleep. He had no other issues like you do, if I may say so.

Amberspots nodded good-naturedly. She did not mind cats say it. She had no shame of it except for her failure at beating the bad feelings out of her head.

-I call them illusions. They're dreams, but not quite. It's like being convinced of something that isn't real, and becoming so sure it exist that you can almost feel it.
-That sounds horrible, Coldstar murmured.
-Sometimes, I almost wish they didn't exist, admitted the young molly with a wince. But I suppose I should rather say they're a challenge fit for a warrior. What better enemy than a cat's own mind? It is the hardest battle and the most honorable one.

Coldstar didn't answer for a few seconds, then looked at her friend.

-You do not need to always fight. There is peace here.
-There is peace when you are here, Amberspots hummed, looking down at the cats below. But when you're gone, I find myself at a loss. What can I possibly do against…

She did not know what to call it. In shame, she lowered her head to her paws, as to only be able to look away towards the clearing.

-I did not know what to do about it either, Coldstar admitted in a quiet meow. It froze me to know that there could be threats that were psychological -- that there were enemies out there that could influence destiny itself. It wasn't true, thank StarClan, but it still remained one of my biggest challenges to this day. Sometimes, it still does. I may wake and find myself fearing curses or the like. Then I remember what Graystalk said about it.

Amberspots looked up slowly.

-You told him? I hope he wasn't upset, or afraid. Or disgusted -- I'm so sorry if that is what happened, you would not deserve that.
-He understood, I think.

Amberspots eyed her in surprise.

-That's a first. He didn't even give you the 'there is nothing out there but StarClan' speech?
-Apparently, they don't do that in RiverClan, Coldstar corrected. He didn't even do the breathing exercise -- he gave me a row of honey to eat and said it would ease the stress I was feeling. He seemed worried.

Amberspots purred in relief. It had been nice to have a leader from another Clan. He had been well-liked, and even when he had mated with a molly and had kits, no car batted an eye and simply applauded the leader's kin as it was usual for them to do. She still missed him (every cat did), but now that she knew he had been supportive of their common disease, she felt a new pang of affection for her old leader.

They both looked into the sky in contemplation, lost in their memories of Graystar, until Amberspots spoke up again.

-What was it like, to have a mentor with whom you could talk about it?
-Reassuring, Coldstar whispered. We used to talk a lot about my mental state, and how to not lose my cool despite it. He included it in my training as deputy. He said every deputy needed to keep their cool, and I too should learn to, it was only fair I be given extra time to perform better. I thought he was amazing.

Coldstar turned to face Amberspots, her orange eyes fond.

-Sometimes, I would doubt myself, too. I would think I was doing a horrible job at being deputy, but, no matter what, he kept training me like nothing was the matter. He told me, "if you always worry about your Clanmates, it means you love them enough to be scared for them, not that you're wishing death upon them." He said it was how he had chosen me as his successor. He thought that I was special. He said that being afraid of curses wasn't a fault, it was a gift. It would prepare me for war, and for hunting. It would give me extra skills in planification and awareness that no other warrior would have. "If you don't let the fear consume you and use the good parts to tout advantage, it can be a wonderful ability", he told me.
-That's one way to see it, Amberspots admitted. I don't know if that cuts it, though. I don't know if it's right to make an illness sound so beneficial. I've been told it's a hurtful thing to do.

Coldstar nodded in acknowledgement.

-I suppose it comes down to us to do it, since no other cat will. Perhaps we have a duty to make it sound good, to counterbalance everything else.

Amberspots approved.

-Why did you choose me? she asked suddenly, hungrily.

Coldstar thought for a second, all the whole Amberspots eyed her, almost begging for an answer.

-You were worried about us. The first time we talked, you told me you were worried about the safety of the Clan. You were worried they would get hurt and die, you wanted to protect them, to guide them. It struck me. And the way your illusions manifest is also quite interesting. They scare you more when your Clan is concerned than when it's about yourself only. This might seem like nothing, but to me, it felt like the mark of a great leader.

Amberspots sighed and rested her head next to Coldstar.

-I'll never be as good as you, or Graystar, she said with a sigh. And I'll probably make a lot of mistakes and drive the Clan into chaos and conflict. What makes you think you can trust me? How can you be sure I won't turn completely dirt-headed and harm everyone? Maybe the power will go to my head and I'll make cats suffer, she said darkly. Maybe I shouldn't be deputy. I have too much of a complex to be trusted with authority.
-Amberspots, honey, you'll only organize patrols, Coldstar laughed gently. No cat is at risk from it. And you'll have all the time you need to learn it, she added, pointing to the nursery. Whitewhisker will only be a few tail-lengths away. You'll be able to ask her any questions you like.

Amberspots sighed, then finally nodded.

-Me. Deputy. I guess we're doing it now.

Chapter 16: Striving to Breathe

It became clear from the way Ravenwhisker and Fernpaw were talking in hushed whispers that Amberspots would not leave the medicine den soon, so she decided to make herself comfortable. There was not much she could do to make the small nest feel more like home, though -- that said, smelling her brother everywhere reminded her of the time they slept with Mother, a long time ago. She remembered she used to be annoyed when she found that it smelled more than usual -- that would mean he had fussed during the night. I used to get upset with him. I said he was disturbing Mom. She shook her head dismissively. What a mouse-brain I was. He couldn't help having nightmares -- but I could have helped the way I responded to it.

She closed her eyes regretfully. She found that it became easier everyday to get lost in remorse. Perhaps it was a result of old age, of seeing how much her young self had been immature and naive. I shouldn't hold it against myself too much. I was only a kit. But then again, he was one too. Well - at least she had apologized already. Good one. I guess I managed to use the small bit of wisdom I had when it happened.

Slightly reassured, she let out a yawn. She had just woken up, but it still felt like she had been up and about for ages. I wonder if Bluefeather feels better about yesterday. And if Tigerstorm and Beavertail became mates. Are they already? I can't remember. She rested her head against her paws again. Whatever. It'll feel better after a good nap.

*

-Beaverkit, get your tail over here, scolded the gray molly, squinting her eyes at a tiny shape that jumped around the bushes. Come on, this is no time for games.

The tabby was shooting her a playful gaze, making the molly stare in exhaustion at her son's ever-excited games.

-This isn't the time. And you shouldn't get so close to the brambles, she scolded in a tired croak. You could get hurt. Just stay by me, okay?

The kit's tail drooped and he padded closer to his mother, his eyes fixed on the path in front of them. The mother gently stroked his soft kitten-fur with her tail, noticing how damp his coat had gotten. The rain had not spared the small kit. She almost winced imagining his pads sore from the walking, and regretted making him walk all this way: but he had to. They needed to get there before dark, and he had to strengthen his muscles if he ever wanted to make a good impression on ThunderClan. It wasn't everyday they let in cats from another Clan, and they would need to be their best selves to be accepted. It wasn't fair, but again, what in Clan life was?

-Come on! the kit begged again after a few boring minutes. I can go play near, I won't get out of earshot, and I promise I won't go near any brambles.

Softening, the molly set her gentle yellow gaze over her son.

-We don't have time, little one. We must hurry: your brother and your father are waiting for us at the camp. We don't want to keep them waiting, right?

Beaverkit hummed half-heartedly.

-I miss Pelletkit. Why did he have to stay so far away? I wish I could still play with him.
-I miss him too, the mother said sadly. And I miss your father as well. Sometimes I wish they could stay with us in RiverClan, too. But it's a good thing they left: when your father becomes leader, things will be better for all of us. And he'll be happier. It's lucky we have the chance to leave.

She stopped for a moment to help the kit up a rock, then continued.

-But it's hard too, right? Do you miss our old nest? she inquired.
-No. I miss Pelletkit, Beaverkit muttered. It's not fair he had to leave.
-You'll see him soon, I promise. We just have to get to camp.

Beaverkit shrugged in exhaustion. The perspective of the camp was too far away to hold any significance to him.

-Can I play? I won't do anything dangerous.
-I'm sorry, little one, but games have to wait. There's rain coming, and rain makes mud. It's better if we walk now and play after.

Suddenly, her eyes glinted, and she lowered her head towards her son.

-I'll give you a badger ride when we get there, she promised.

Beaverkit's eyes lit up in joy.

-Really? You'll give me a badger ride for real? Thank you!! Thank you!!! You're the best mother ever!! Come on, we should hurry, he fretted, then pressed on ahead in a happy little bounce.
-Stay close! the gray molly called, watching him scamper off with a smile.

*

-She's not waking up, Ravenwhisker was saying somewhere else.
-I gave her a poultice, Fernpaw explained softly.

Something was brushing against Amberspots' cheek.

-She should be awake, shouldn't she? At least a little. This doesn't make sense…

Ravenwhisker was obviously exhausted, from the way his paws fell heavily on the ground. But then he took a deep breath and when his voice rang again, he seemed calmer.

-She'll be fine. StarClan's watching over her. We have to believe.

*

-Hey, Coldstar?

The leader looked up.

-Hmm?
-There's a uh, a kit. Crying. It says I think too rudely. He'll die if I -- if I'm too rude or mean or despicable. Can I -- can I sit with you?
-Please, do, said Coldstar softly.

Amberspots sat down.

-He's -- it tells me he's going to die. If I -- whenever I start thinking about something, he's crying again, and -- Beaverkit's so small, he'll surely break if I do anything. I thought -- I thought the only way to stop it would be to --

Suddenly she stopped, because Coldstar had unexpectedly pressed her muzzle to her shoulder, and it was nice and she liked it and she didn't want her to stop.

-You won't hurt him, Coldstar whispered. I know you won't.

Amberspots took in a shuddering breath.

-I know. But it just doesn't stop. Why doesn't it stop?

She let out a small cry.

-Why can't I just live anymore? she protested.

Then she sobered up, not wanting to let it out when Coldstar was nearby. She didn't like to get emotional in front of other cats.

-We can visit him, if you like, said Coldstar. Go check on him. I'm sure that would do the trick. And, if you like -- whenever those things happen within the Clan, say, someone got hurt or you hear a noise -- I'm sure it wouldn't bother anyone if you went to check up on things. It might even be reassuring to them to see their deputy paying attention to it.
-You think so? I just don't want to get all happy for something I'll change my mind about later. What if this is a bad idea?

She looked exhausted. Coldstar shuffled to make place.

-Do you want to spend the night here?

Amberspots looked at her for a moment.

-You -- you want me to stay here? For -- what?
-To help you sleep better, Coldstar said. If you want to.

Amberspots timidly walked over and sat down close to her. Coldstar hummed in approval and sat down her head on her paws.

-I'll keep watch for the Clan while you're sleeping, she whispered. You can rest now.

And then Amberspots fell asleep, and it was the best sleep she'd had in years. And she wouldn't admit it, but the warmth of her friend's pelt was more welcome than ever.

*

Suddenly she woke up, her pelt drenched in sweat, her eyes beady with tears of irritation. She swatted at something on her nose, and found a feather, that she shooed away with a quiet huff. Everything seemed calm around her. Ravenwhisker wasn't here, but Fernpaw was sitting somewhere near. Good. She could tell me where he is. She tried to pure a greeting, but her throat was try, and it clenched painfully when she drew in a breath.

-Fernpaw? Please, little one, may I have some water? she called in a harsh whisper.

The young molly hummed a response and pushed a ball of moss that was already laying near her nest. Now that she saw it, she felt stupid for not having noticed it before. And also for making Fernpaw fetch it for her. Only a few days into being treated like a patient and I'm already becoming entitled. Wow -- to think I was always in someone's care until my apprenticeship. I must have been a pain to my mother. But that's okay. Kits need to be entitled: they need attention to survive. But adult cats don't like it. I'm a burden on everyone. I'm making their lives miserable with my attitude. I always ask them to do things for me, or to answer my questions. I'm horrible.

She decided not to ask Fernpaw where Ravenwhisker was. She didn't need to know, and she didn't need to ask in order to find out. She shouldn't bother her needlessly. To think it took me seven years to find out. What a mess I am.

Perhaps they should let me stay sick. I have more compassion when I'm not taking things for myself. And, honestly, it feels good not to do things for selfish reasons. I should keep doing it. I feel somewhat more full when I don't ask people anything. Like I'm more… a part of things. Or like I'm doing them a favor. Or well, maybe I'm just learning respect and I like it. Whatever it is, it's probably something easy to describe that I'm just looking at from a strange perspective. Like someone sees a tree from the ground up and cannot understand, but if they see it from a distance, they realise.

She lapped at the water, still lost in thought. It's worrying how I'm reacting like this. What I'm describing is discretion, and not taking all the attention. Why am I reacting like it's something new and unknown to everyone? It really is not. And I should never think myself good for it -- seriously, I should not become so self-centered and vain. I should rather die than become some kind of self-assessed spiritual cat.

She finished the water and sighed. I thought that, if I suffered, I would become a nicer person. Turns out, I still am completely dirt-headed and bossy. What can I do? There is nothing I can do to let the others live in peace. Or perhaps the way is to better myself, honestly and with humbleness, and feel genuinely guilty and not be rude about it. I should see my mistakes and admit them. There is no way around it.

But perhaps I just can't see myself get truly better without getting punished in some way. I would still feel guilty even if I did get better. Oh, this is all wrong. I should just -- just go ask someone for advice. I don't know what to do. I need guidance.

So naturally, she got to her paws and thought of the only cat she could think of that could help: Coldstar.

Notes:

Okay so I know some of this doesn't make sense yet and to be honest with y'all I have no idea yet of what's happening but I trust myself to come up with something eventually. So it'll be a surprise for all of us. Anyways I hope you enjoy!! See you next update!

Chapter 17: Light Between Shadows

Camp was cold. Sometimes, Amberspots would forget that it was leaf-bare. It felt so warm inside the medicine den that she would think it was greenleaf already, but whenever she'd take a look outside, she would remember. And she supposed it was quite poetic, in a way. She was seeing Coldstar, it was cold, she felt sad. It all matched-up.

She didn't know if she needed to ask someone to come inside, and perhaps she did. She had forgotten what the protocol was. But she also knew that Coldstar used to tell her to make herself at home and come talk to her whenever she wanted. Unlike other leaders she knew, Coldstar always liked to be accessible, and didn't want to be unreachable. She would often say she was just a cat, and she was no different than them. She had more lives, of course, and more responsabilities, but at the same time, every cat in the Clan had a heavy weight on their shoulders. She would sometimes say that hers wasn't as hard as theirs. She only needed to oversee things. And yes, she needed to organise patrols and think about meetings with the other Clans and about what to do about whatever border dispute happened lately, but as she would say sometimes, to her, it wasn't a bigger task, it was just a different one. And of course, it involved lots of cats -- but then again, every cat's duty was to the Clan. It really was no different.

Of course, cats disagreed. Amberspots didn't really know what to think. But either ways, it did make her friendlier than some leaders she had known before. She did not know any leaders who said their den was like the warrior's den and could be entered at any time. Or who let kits play hide-and-seek in her den. Or who parricipated in their game by playing innocent when the other kit was searching the first one, cozily hidden under her fluffy paws.

So Amberspots decided to enter, even thought it still felt wrong to do that. Maybe she was imposing, as usual. The thought sent some sort of nausea-smell into her mouth, and she felt the urge to leave. But then, she heard a familiar mew from the shadows of the den.

-Amberspots! What a nice surprise! Coldstar exclaimed from her nest. Come in, make yourself comfortable.

Amberspots sat down and analyzed the molly's eyes, trying to find any trace of anger in them.

-It's been too long, she said. Please forgive me. I avoided you for too long.
-You were grieving, Coldstar said softly. And it's not like we didn't see each other.
-Grieving. I seem to do a lot of that lately.
-Well, that makes two of us. I'm glad you understand, Coldstar said with a bittersweet purr.

Then the cream-colored molly reached out tentatively and pressed a small lick to her ear.

-It's good to see you again, she murmured softly.

Amberspots backed away a little, to try and see the emotion in her eyes, and she was surprised to only see tenderness. She felt a purr rise in her chest and pressed their forehead together as time stopped altogether.

-For me too.

*

-Brother, I -
-Amberpaw, please, it's --

The siblings stopped in their tracks.

-You start, said Amberpaw.
-No, you go, protested Ravenpaw, fidgeting with a paw. Yours is more important.

The young apprentice sighed and struggled to find words.

-Mollies smell special, she finally uttered. Not like the others. They smell more… attractive. Like I want to cuddle with them and share nests with them and -- and -- have kits with them, when I'm older… okay, not kits, because kits are dumb, but -- but you get the idea. It's more of a romantic thing. A, uh, sensual thing.

She gagged to herself, finding the mere notion to be both entrancing and wrong. She felt disgusted with herself. This wasn't supposed to be -- StarClan would have wanted her to see them as Clanbound sisters, as comrades, not as potential mates.

-Is it -- it feels like I shouldn't say this. I don't even know if this is true. Tell me I'm stupid. Tell me this is all wrong. Please, just… tell me what to do. I don't know if I'm exaggerating. What if I'm wrong, and I'm going crazy?
-You're not wrong, Ravenpaw soothed. I was going to say the same thing.

Amberpaw stopped dead. Something in her was telling her it was all wrong. Was she exaggerating? She didn't know if she was telling the truth. What if she was mistaken? She would destroy her own sense of reality, by believing lies. And she would feel crazier than ever. But could she really like mollies? The notion felt too wide to make any concrete sense. She did like some mollies -- there were some she would not mind taking as her mate, and living with -- but she didn't like every molly in the four Clans. She had standards. And toms -- she supposed toms were nice. As a kit, she had often played a game of Family with her friends, and she had taken tomkits as her "mates", but she recalled never really being into that notion. She had never stated that she had wanted to play with the mollykits, though, and so saying she only liked mollies felt wrong. And wasn't she supposed to like toms instead?

But here she was, in front of her brother, telling him everything. And he was confessing, too. This had to be the best, yet most confusing day of her life.

-I -- I can't stop thinking about Graystar, he murmured.

The leader? He's so old, he's all gray -- Ravenpaw's a kit! A small little kit. And with that idea in mind, she couldn't help but get a bit protective.

-Graystar?? No! He's so old, he's like our ancestor -- sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, she meowed softly after noticing Ravenpaw's expression.

But he seemed more calm than she had ever seen him; instead of the nervous self-soothing purr he usually let out, he was actually making a happy purr.

-You didn't even -- you said he was old, not that he was a tom. That's -- that's so great!

Amberpaw shifted her weight on her paws, embarrassed.

-Well, I mean. Yeah. I guess I did.
-I thought you'd say I was a mouse-brain, he muttered. Or that I should take a molly as a mate instead. I mean, I can't have a mate. I guess this is all useless. Why am I even asking? What does it matter? Well, that's a load off my mind. Thanks, little sister.

Amberpaw sat down next to him.

-I wouldn't say that you should take a molly, she protested in a bit of kitlike indignation at the thought of ever hurting her brother like that. Mouse-brain.
-See, you said it. I knew you weren't to be trusted, you foolish warrior.
-Shut up, plant-head.
-Alright, I yield. But why are you telling me this now?
-Because… because I thought… I don't know.
-Is there someone? he teased, shimmering his tail on her face. Are you in love? Tell meeee ~

She sneezed.

-Stop it, she purred, swatting his tail off her eyes.
-Not until you tell mee ~
-She's not -- she's not like, single. I can't talk about her. C'mon, it'd be wrong.
-Not even a little clueeee?

Amberpaw sighed. It's like we switched personalities. I'll have to apologize for prying too much later. I really am irritating. Wow.

-Noo, she protested.
-Ah, come on, we're littermates! You have to tell me a little something! Ravenpaw protested.
-Alright, she's cream-colored, that's all I'm going to say, Amberpaw meowed decisively.
-Coldyarrow, Ravenpaw deadpanned immediately.

Amberpaw choked on her own saliva.

-I didn't even tell you anything -- how did you know? she exclaimed, swatting him with a paw. That's not fair. Cheater!

Ravenpaw looked at her in surprise, then started roaring with laughter. Amberpaw soon followed.

-What? No, I was just -- I was just guessing!!

She groaned dramatically and threw her head back.

-Noo, she protested, trying to look angry. My only love, destroyed like that. By my own brother. How could you betray me.

He pushed her off as she jokingly tried to swat him.

-Ooof, get off, he protested. Ouch.

She got off him, but swatted him one last time just to have the last laugh. He huffed in annoyance, and she decided to calm down. Right. I'm being annoying. Woops. She purred as an apology and he eventually felt better.

-Are you serious, there's only one cream cat in the Clan, Ravenpaw stated.

Amberpaw huffed.

-Fine, fine. You're right. But how did you know you didn't like mollies?

Ravenpaw shuffled anxiously.

-What is there to explain, he muttered. Toms are great, they're lovely. How did you know?
-I don't, she retorted in frustration. I don't even know. It's why I wanted to ask. It's all a blur. I don't -- I shouldn't like mollies. It's not supposed to exist, I'm not supposed to like them. I'm not supposed to be one of those cats that like mollies, it's not what I've been told. I'm -- I'm unnatural. A freak. I wake up and I wish I'd never felt anything towards her. It's just -- I feel like I'm breaking the laws of nature. Like -- literally. It feels like I'm seeing snow in greenleaf, only I'm the snow. It's not possible, you know?

She sighed.

-I shouldn't even be telling you this. Not that I don't want to talk with you, of course -- I just feel like I should be doing something to… to cure it or something. Which -- would be very rude to you, she concluded guiltily. But -- it just feels wrong. I feel like it's as though I was in love with you, or with a kit. It's just -- not supposed to be this way. I know it's not true, but… if I like toms, then… all of what I felt for her wasn't true? Who am I, then? Is this even real?
-What about toms? Did you ever feel anything for a tom? Ravenpaw pressed.

Amberpaw shuffled anxiously. Somehow, this question made her uneasy. She felt like running. What was she supposed to answer? Yes? No? Cats talked about the first time they felt the ache in their stomach; the realisation they were finally able to mate. Was this part of it? Was she trying to tell herself she didn't want a tom as a partner, or was she overthinking again?

-What does that mean? How are mollies supposed to feel about toms, anyways? Friendship? Passion? Anger?
-Anger? echoed Ravenpaw.
-I don't know. Anger that sometimes they get rude. I don't know, that's not the point -- I'm sorry, this is really putting me on edge.
-None taken. But what about mollies?
-What about them? They're perfect. Well, sometimes, I do wish I could mate with a molly and not a tom. They're just… so much better. And prettier. And nicer. And -- am I being weird? Should I stop? Why would I stop -- why are we talking about this?

Amberpaw turned away from her friend, feeling vulnerable; but her brother inserted himself in her peripheral vision and answered cheerfully.

-Because we need to figure you out, and you're worried, and we're on the same side and you're my sister and I love you; and since we're in the same situation and I can't do the same for myself, I'll help you instead. So: mollies. Tell me everything. What do you like about them?

Amberpaw let her fur lie down and let out a faint purr.

-Oh! StarClan, where do I start?

*

-Coldstar? Amberspots murmured from the warmth of their shared nest.
-Hmm? came the sleepy reply.
-Do you think… is it too late to…? Still be mates? Is it too late to say we're still mates if we haven't talked in a while?

Coldstar opened her eyes and nuzzled her gently.

-It's never too late.

Chapter 18: Blue Abyss

Summary:

Some flashbacks to Amberspots' youth, and a nice, quiet morning with Coldstar afterwards.

"I remember, when I was talking to those two toms at the Gathering, I felt it was wrong they were mates together. I knew I was being rude, and wrong, but a corner of my mind wanted to tell them to stop. Does that mean I don't really like mollies -- that I'm hypocritical? Or crazy? StarClan, I should apologize to them either way."
"You're going to have your warrior assessment and this is what you're thinking about?"

Amberpaw swatted her friend on the nose.

"C'mon, I'm nervous. It's all I can think about."
"I know, I'm just teasing", Brownpaw retorted, swatting her back. "But you shouldn't worry so much. The assessment is going to be fine. You were doing so good!"
"I guess I am, but it's - it's not that important right now. Seriously -- the molly thing."

I'm being rude, she thought instantly.

"I'm sorry for pushing. Let's get back to the subject. What did you say? Uh -- how did your assessment go? I hear there were blackbirds by the Great Sycamore today."
"Yeah! There were. I caught one", Brownpaw purred proudly. "They were so fast, you wouldn't have believed it. They flew past me at lightning speed, it was amazing. I think I only caught one because there were so many of them. They flew in a group: it wasn't really smart of them, but! It fed the Clan."

Amberpaw purred.

"That's so awesome! You must be so excited to tell everyone… Especially Leafsong", she mused teasingly. "Your handsome Leafsong with his muscles and his wonderful tabby coat…"
"Stop!" Brownpaw protested.

Amberpaw burst into laughter.

"Aw, c'mon, you like him. When are you going to tell him how you feel? I need grandkits -- I mean, cousins. Wait, we're not -- ugh, whatever. I mean, you need to have kits so I can adopt them."
"I can't tell him, he's too shy. He doesn't want to take a mate yet. I don't want to make him uncomfortable."
"Aww, but what about grandkits?" Amberpaw protested with a pout.
"Your grandkits will have to wait", Brownpaw asserted with a purr.
"Well, someday."
"Shut up!"

They stayed in silence, before Brownpaw broke it, her eyes shining bright with love.

"But you know, I really wish I could tell him. He's so handsome. Sometimes I feel like he's not even real. He's so beautiful. And muscular. Look at his legs!" she giggled, nudging her in the direction where Leafsong was heading, a mouse in his jaws. "Look! Isn't he dreamy?"

Amberpaw just looked at her instead. She didn't feel comfortable checking her Clanmate out. Ironically, I'm checking her out instead. How logical. Wait, except if -- do I --

"Yeah, he's so dreamy", she complimented reflexively. "No wonder you want to take him as a mate. He's very… handsome."

Was this how mollies were supposed to compliments toms? She wouldn't know, but she could still worry. It wasn't like she had to maintain a cover with Brownbelly, but...

"Yeah. I wonder if he'll want kits", Brownpaw mused, turning back to Amberpaw. "Little brown kits with yellow eyes -- I love them already! This would be so awesome!" Brownpaw purred excitedly.

Amberpaw purred a little.

"Why don't you tell him how you feel? You can't become mates unless he knows", she meowed. "C'mon!! I'll be with you the entire time! I won't let you down! And he'll find you so amazing to have talked to him first that he'll be sure to say yes."
"Wait, right now?" Brownpaw panicked. "Wait, I'm not ready, I need to clean up --"

Amberpaw purred and sat back down.

"Okay, but don't bail on me. It has to happen someday. Can you imagine? Maybe he's in love with you, too, but he's also waiting for you to make the first move, but if you wait too much he'll think you don't like him and he'll be sad and he'll give up."
"What? No!" Brownpaw exclaimed. "That's awful! Why did you tell me that?! This is so not encouraging. Now I don't want to talk to him."
"Oh, come on", Amberpaw coaxed, nudging her friend. "You gotta."
"If it goes wrong, I'm blaming you for my unhappiness in life", she warned, standing up. "Get ready to bring me food and make my bedding, because if he says no, I'm not getting out of the den anytime soon."
"You got it," Amberpaw said as they padded towards the clearing.

*

"They're so beautiful!" Amberspots cooed proudly.
"They'll be my last litter, so I want them to be perfect", Brownbelly confided, nudging the little kit affectionately. "They're already wonderful. Whitekit opened her eyes today. She's a promising little hunter, this one. Already searching for prey."
"They're adorable", Amberspots purred. "What are you going to name them?"

Brownbelly exchanged a loving glance with Leafsong. They were both growing a little bit of gray fur around the muzzle, but whenever they looked at each other, they still seemed to be in love. Wait, does that mean I'm growing gray fur, too? And I'm not even a senior warrior yet!

"Whitekit, of course, and Graykit is the little bundle of fur here", she purred, pointing at the small kit that was wriggling under her paw.
"They're so adorable! Congratulations!" Amberspots purred, pressing her nose to both her friends' cheeks. "You'll bring them up wonderfully, just like you did Crowface and Mousefoot, and Tinystep. They'll be wonderful cats."
"Thank you", Leafsong purred. "You did participate a great deal in that."
"No, no, it was my pleasure. I like having kits around. It makes me feel old -- well, in a good way, of course. Now, I'll leave you two to be. You must be exhausted, Brownbelly", she winced. "Do you need me to fetch you water? Get you some fresh-kill?"
"No, it's all taken care of. Leafsong's taking good care of me", she purred fondly. "He's been amazing. I'm not missing on anything with him around", she murmured lovingly.

Amberspots couldn't help but wince a little.

"He's been as amazing as the last times. Sometimes, I wonder what I did for StarClan to lead me to such a wonderful mate. He's so perfect."

Amberspots "aww"ed as gleefully as she could as she took in the sight of the happy couple nuzzling together, their eyes bright as they watched their two adorable kits crawl blindly on the soft moss bed.

"It's been chaos here, but he's so calm and soothing. I don't know how he does it. Well, it's not as tiring as our first litter, so that could explain it. These two were as energetic as rabbits. But still -- he's amazing."
"Someone's at the entrance. I think it's Crowface and Mousefoot", Leafsong announced. "I'm sorry to interrupt. But you'll come back soon, I hope?" he asked.
"Of course! I wouldn't want to miss out on their first steps!" Amberspots said, stalking out of the den. "I'll get out of your paws. I'm sure Crowface and Mousefoot will be overjoyed to see them."
"Me too. Thank you for visiting!" Brownbelly called after her.
"Of course. Anything for my best friend", she purred.

The sun shone in her eyes as Amberspots walked out into the clearing, feeling happy but slightly bittersweet. But she shook off her thoughts as she walked confidently towards the middle of the clearing to get her chores for the day, purring a hello to Coldyarrow as she settled beside her to hear her give out the assessments. Something cold was settling in her belly, but she refused to address it, and nodded with the same enthusiasm as usual as she went to do her tasks of the day.

*

A voice rang in the leader's den, jolting Coldstar and Amberspots awake at once. The sounds of cats crashing against one another sent dirt flying around the den, before a familiar scent washed over to the two very shocked mollies.

"It's urgent, I have to --"
"Hey, careful -- careful, you'll hurt yourself," soothed Mooneye's voice from the edge of the den. "Let me announce your arrival."
"It's okay, Mooneye, you can let her in", Coldstar meowed groggily, as she shook the sleep from her eyes with a heavy blink.

Amberspots wanted to curl up and stay asleep, but she felt like she had to listen. Force of habit? Come on, I was only deputy for a moon. I'm a mouse-brain, that's what's going on. But she still settled down to wash herself, mouse-brain or not.

"You didn't have to get up," Coldstar said (because of course she'd notice, she noticed everything). "You can go back to sleep if you want. It's my duty, not yours. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
"It's okay," she meowed between licks. "I had to get up anyways to tell Ravenwhisker not to worry."
"Coldstar!" Brownbelly exclaimed, exploding from the entrance. "This is so strange -- I'm having another litter!"
"What?"
"Come in, make yourself at home", Coldstar said soothingly.

Brownbelly sat down and licked her chest nervously.

"I was so confused this morning. I've been sick all week, and when I saw Leafsong about it, he said I smelled like kits. This is the first time this has happened. I don't know what to do, I'm too old to have kits anymore. What should I do with them?"
"What did Ravenwhisker say?" Coldstar asked.
"He confirmed it. Oh, what should I do?"
"You've had kits before, and it went well. I'm sure you'll be great this time, too. Time has given you even more experience with them, and these kits will have everything they need."

Brownbelly sighed, prompting Amberspots to dart to her side to sniff her gingerly.

"You're right. It'll be fine."
"But -- did Ravenwhisker say anything about the, er, birthing process? Will it be safe to kit in this weather?" Amberspots fretted. "What if it hurts? What if you're too old and stiff to give birth properly? I mean -- he'll have herbs for that. I just -- worry it'll be harder than necessary."
"Nonsense, he's seen enough births already. I'm not worried about that!" Brownbelly shrugged. "I just don't know if I'll be a good mother. It's been so long since I've kitted. I worry I've lost the hang of it."
"Oh, Brownbelly", Amberspots winced in sympathy. "You're a wonderful mother. Your kits have always turned out to be amazing cats. You have nothing to worry about."
"You'll only enjoy it more now that you had a break from all the kitting. And don't forget, the whole Clan will be there to assist you", Coldstar added softly. "Every cat will do their best to make sure your kits are as happy as possible. You have my word."

Brownbelly's eyes shone with relief.

"Thank you, Coldstar. That means so much. Thank you both. I'll go see Ravenwhisker now", she said happily. "I have a hunch they'll be tomkits, but I can never be sure."
"I say they'll be mollykits, and you owe me a chaffinch if they're toms", Coldstar proposed, her eyes gleaming with humour.

Sometimes, Amberspots would forget how they all used to be friends back in the day, but in moments like these -- important moments -- it would all come back. And how lovely a surprise it was.

"A tomkit and a mollykit", Amberspots added with a purr, glancing at Coldstar in amusement. "Make that two chaffinches."
"You're on. And you're going to lose!"
"No, we won't!" Amberspots called after her.
"We're the best!" added Coldstar after her. "You can't beat us!"
"No you won't!" came Brownbelly's purr from outside, then her pawsteps faltered and they were left in silence again.

Amberspots purred, and Coldstar turned towards her. They shared a nuzzle under the morning sun. For one second, everything was fine, and she could forget everything that raged inside. Days like these were nice. They didn't always have nice days; sometimes, they had horrible ones. They fought together, like any couple, any friends would. No matter if they were laser and deputy, they still were cats, and cats could be vicious, harmful creatures like any other. Sometimes, she wished she could forget about it, but the memory of their old fighting still came back once in a while. It used to be a bad memory, but now, she only saw two young mollies, both stuck with their own issues, both growing and learning, but still managing to make something out of their shared experiences. That was quite something when you thought about it.

"We haven't changed at all," Amberspots murmured dreamily.
"Well, I remember you used to have a bit less gray hair," Coldstar shot back with a purr.
"That's not what I meant," Amberspots protested, but she laughed anyways. "You old mouse."
"Well, you're right, I suppose," Coldstar purred. "We don't change as much as we'd like to. Although we can certainly try."
"The Clan changes," Amberspots sighed. "Like the seasons, it's never the same."
"It certainly does. It's quite a sad thing, too. I do miss my mother sometimes."

Coldstar yawned, then scrambled to her paws.

"Well, I suppose this is how life goes. Now, would you like some fresh-kill?"
"Please, allow me. I must make myself useful somehow," Amberspots protested. "The fresh-kill pile isn't too far away. I'll fetch you something delicious in the blink of an eye."

Coldstar yawned, then closed her eyes back contentedly.

"Good. I was indeed hoping to sleep more before patrol today."
"Didn't you sleep well tonight?" Amberspots echoed.
"I prefer to watch over you when you come here," Coldstar admitted.

Amberspots shot her a surprised look.

"Nonsense, I'm quite capable of getting through on my own! No need to bother yourself."
"Of course, but I must admit I enjoy knowing you to be safe," the leader murmured. "Seeing you peaceful is a great joy to me."

Amberspots purred and rubbed her muzzle on her friend's cheek.

"Of course," she echoed. "It's quite alright. Now, do say what you'd like me to get for you, and I'll be off. This day's too fine to waste, I'd say."

Coldstar's eyes gleamed.

"Would you go on patrol with me, in that case?" she asked hopefully. "Just you, me, and the forest, like old times."
"I can't guarantee I'll be able to, but I will certainly try. It would be a good start to the day," Amberspots purred.

Then, she got out of the den, feeling happier than she had this past moon. And perhaps even a little more purposeful than before.

Notes:

Ravenwhisker will be back in the next chapter, of course!! Right now, he's doing some herb stuff, but you can expect him to check in sooner or later. He takes special care of his sister. She is the only family he has left, after all. That, and she needs all the support she can get, and being the medicine cat, it's his duty to provide care for the cats. Yeah. She's in a bad shape, but she'll be better eventually. Anyways. Enjoy!!

Chapter 19: Night of Memories

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"Gotta find something… more than two mice for morning's meal… leaves and rocks… the river…"

Amberspots was grabbing a mole when a startled Bluefeather noticed her approaching, and addressed her an embarrassed greeting.

"Hi, Amberspots. Just... checking what I can do with my day."

Amberspots nodded in silence. The young molly seemed worried -- she decided to wait and see if she'd tell her.

"I can't really do much with Fernpaw on the job," she added with a defeated purr. "She's the dream apprentice, isn't she? She does everything right. There isn't much left for me to do, if I want to pick up on what's left to do."

Amberspots felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she knew what she was talking about. Being replaced was an awful feeling to have.

"Oh, Bluefeather…"

Amberspots beckoned her over with her tail. It wasn't her place to tell her about her own experiences, but maybe she could do something else to cheer her up. There was something Bluefeather could do that no other cat could. (Well, maybe Ravenwhisker could, but he had enough work on his paws as it was. Bluefeather was smart, trained, and young -- and she had nothing else to do, really. Or she would, if Coldstar gave her the day off.)

"Well," she started. "I was looking for someone to treat an illness I have," she murmured. "Maybe you could do me a check-up. I would love to have a medicine cat's opinion on this."

Bluefeather's eyes gleamed with restrained hope.

"What kind of illness?" she asked cautiously.

"Walk with me, I'll tell you everything you need to know."

*

"Amberpaw! Amberpaw -- oh, StarClan, move aside, let me see --"

Ravenpaw was pushing his way through the crowd, his fur fluffed-up in panic. His paws were shaking, but he held up his chin. He was a medicine cat, and he had been trained for this. Amberpaw admired how he managed to keep his cool. She wasn't really paying attention to how the blood was growing cold around her, or how her stomach felt like it was full of ice. It was way more fun to see her brother do fun medicine cat stuff while she laid there.

She thought she felt a little cold, but she didn't really say anything. She knew deep down that it was because of the fight she came back from, and that the injury was very bad, but she didn't really know if she needed to say something about it. Maybe it would fix itself. She wasn't going to ask for bedding unless she knew the cold was a bad sign -- and since nobody had told her to be wary of it, she'd be a warrior and shoulder it. It was quite uncomfortable, but she figured it couldn't be worse than being bitten and clawed at like earlier. That was awful.

"Hey, I did good, didn't I?" she asked with a purr. "I fought them all on my own. I'm a great warrior, aren't I?" she added with a wheeze.

She swallowed painfully. Somehow, she had forgotten about her throat bite. She didn't really know how she could have forgotten about such a thing, but she figured that every injury hurt just as much, so it wasn't like that particular one was really special.

Thinking about the battle brought her a sense of happiness. It was exhilarating to think about how much she'd fought. Her legs had given up only a few seconds before battle stopped. It was amazing to think that she'd been able to withstand so much damage -- and to think about how much she would shoulder next time made her feel so excited she almost wanted to stand up and train right now. At the same time, cold disappointment made her clench her teeth. She'd failed to keep going when her Clan needed her.

"I lost, didn't I? I lost the battle."

"Keep still, I need to apply a poultice," Ravenpaw ordered through clenched teeth, his throat tight as to conceal a wail of anguish.

"You were brilliant," her mentor whispered.

She finally noticed the warm shape of Briarspark settled next to her, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Namely, on making sure she wasn't getting empty praise -- or praise at all. She didn't want to get too caught-up in it, or she would become conceited, which was absolutely unthinkable.

"I didn't protect my Clanmates," she protested. "Whitewhisker got hurt. She was injured. It was bad, she couldn't stand up. I -- I wasn't good enough, I couldn't protect her… Brownpaw's -- where's Brownpaw? She's going to be hurt, I left her all alone on the -- where is she? Oh, StarClan, if something happened to Brownpaw, I'll make sure they --"

"I'm fine," Brownpaw rasped from a few pawsteps away. "I can fight too, we had the same training. It's you we should talk about. What -- what in StarClan's name was that? You -- you jumped on them like it was nothing! You fought right in the middle of their ranks! You're a hero! You're the best!"

"Well -- now, I wouldn't call her a hero," said Amberpaw's mentor sternly. "Amberpaw, you should learn that you don't need to battle every single enemy to come out victorious. The best warriors aren't those who come out half-dead, but those who mind their steps and make thoughtful decisions. Be mindful. A battle isn't a carnage, or a hunt. It's a tactical stand. Remember that."

Amberpaw deflated.

"I just thought I was doing what was best to protect them…. Come on, don't -- don't tell me not to protect them, you're -- you're the one who says we have to serve our Clan -- let me -- I'll show you, I'll stand up and go back to them right now, I'll --"

She tried to rise to her feet, but her legs felt heavy, and she fell back down, defeated.

"Stop moving, I need to treat you!" Ravenpaw hissed in panic over her. "Don't stand up or you'll exacerbate your wound!"

"No, I -- I can stand up," she protested. "I want to stand up, I -- I'm able to, I'm making it," she blurted out. "Look, I can do it, I can DO IT."

"Amberpaw, there's no shame in being defeated," her mentor murmured soothingly. "Just stand down and let the medicine cat treat you."

"NO -- I can do it! Stop telling me -- stop telling me to give up, because I can't -- I'm not going to, okay? I'm not going to! I'm going to stand up and get to them, I'll prove it to you!"

"Please, give her some air," Ravenpaw begged from her side. "I can't treat her like this -- she's too stressed-out. I think you need to go."

Amberpaw saw Brownpaw shuffle away from her, and her senses lit up in panic.

"No, don't -- they need to know, they need to see I'm doing it --"

"I'm her mentor, I have to be there to supervise how she's doing," Briarspark hissed with a challenging glare at the medicine cat. "I'm not going anywhere. You can try and ask the leader to make me move, but I'm not standing up from this spot until I know she's making it."

"Briarspark, please, walk with me. I don't mean to order you around, but Amberpaw needs some air, and I know you want to help, but the best help you can give her for now is to let Ravenpaw work," the medicine cat piped in. "What they need is some peace."

He paused near his apprentice and gazed critically at his work, before nodding approvingly at him.

"You're doing great so far," the medicine cat promised him. "Just remember not to mix up the leaves and she'll have a good, painless sleep tonight. You'll do good."

Briarspark glared at the medicine cat, but soon, her anger turned to worry.

"Oh, StarClan -- I know Ravenpaw means well and is doing his very best, but… are you sure this is safe? Oh -- he still mixes herbs up… You sure I should go with you -- and leave him without supervision?"

"Very sure. Come on," he coaxed. "I'm sure you're exhausted after such a battle. Let's get you some fresh-kill and you can tell me all about it."

Briarspark set a last horrified gaze to her apprentice before reluctantly padding away.

"You're sure she's going to be fine? She's going to live?" Amberpaw heard her say throughout the clearing. She didn't hear the reply, but she did hear Ravenpaw letting out a faint wail.

"I'm going to screw this up," her brother groaned. "StarClan, I'm going to screw this up, and you're going to die forever, and I --"

"That's usually what happens when a cat dies," Amberpaw teased.

"I -- shut up, Amberpaw, that's not helping, I'm -- I'm going to explode, I -- this sucks. Oh, StarClan, this sucks. Oh, I'm going to screw this up forever, I'll -- oh, stars. Oh, stars."

"Hey -- this isn't an exam, this is real life, you're going to be fine," Amberpaw tried.

"What?? That's what worries me!" Ravenpaw shot back. "You could die, and I could lose my only sister if I'm mouse-brained enough to mess up something!"

"Just -- just set a poultice on my leg!"

"Don't tell me what to do, I'm supposed to be fine --"

"Do something, come on, I'm -- I'm dying here, you have to --"

"Don't say that!" Ravenpaw screeched. "StarClan, don't -- don't -- I'm -- I'm worried enough you're going to die here, I don't need the reminder! Just -- just be here and -- oh, stars. Okay, I -- what leg again?"

"The -- the leg -- the back leg with the wound, I --"

She wiggled one of her back legs, and something made her laugh. Maybe she was really dying.

"I can't feel anything in this, it's groovy. Hey, try it. It's fun."

Ravenpaw sniffed her wound gingerly, then looked back at his herbs.

"I -- okay, uh. Poultice. Find the right poultice. Apply it. Put it on the wound…"

He mixed up some pale herbs, and because she was somehow bored, Amberpaw sniffed them. She recognized them -- somehow, it seemed like her mind worked better when it was overstimulated with feelings, and since she had enough stimuli to fill-up a lake, she found she could think clearly.

"Hey -- these herbs are good for fever, too, right? Cough medicine -- which one was it?"

"Either, they -- they work for infection. They, uh -- well, they sort of remove the pus from your nostrils, and you can uh, sleep better. Here -- eat this. Tell me what you think about this."

He gave her a few of the herbs, and she munched them. They tasted earthy, but there was a small bit of flavor in them, too.

"Uh -- they taste like dirt? I don't know -- is this what I'm supposed to say?"

"Yeah, uh -- they're used to reduce blood flow and make you calmer. It also helps with, uh, treating infection."

"Wait -- you sneaky furball, did you just -- I thought you were showing me the ropes."

"What, I was treating you! What else --"

"Well, I knew you had something in mind," Amberpaw interrupted. "I just didn't think if was that."

"Warriors are dumb," Ravenpaw teased.

"Medicine cats are, too."

"Well, this medicine cat is going to be cross with you if you don't stop moving. Now, stay still. Let me treat you!"

*

"And it's just so frustrating. I feel like I'm not doing enough, but I can't offer anything, because -- well, I'm not a good apprentice enough apprentice, even if Ravenwhisker did need someone to take over his duties. I left Ravenwhisker on his own. I abandoned my duties -- I abandoned the Clan. When Kindberry caught whitecough, I wasn't there. When she died, I wasn't in the den with her. And -- I wasn't there for Staggerlily when she made her way to StarClan. I need to prove myself. I have to atone. I left them down -- I did something unforgivable. I must repair what I have done -- please, Coldstar. I can't sleep at night anymore."

Bluefeather's eyes were passionnate, gleaming with honesty; but Amberspots knew that Coldstar was looking at the bags under her eyes, and at the way her mouth curled in exhaustion with every word. She wasn't fit for a mission. She looked like she mostly needed to rest. Amberspots honestly felt tired just by looking at the young molly, and hoped her friend would tell her to rest. She looked like she'd just come back from a battle with a fox. But, of course, Coldstar wouldn't think something like that. She was much smarter and tactical -- that was why she was such a great leader.

"Would it bring you peace to explore the land for new herbs?" Coldstar eventually enquired.

"Yes -- thank you, Coldstar, I -- I've been feeling like I can't learn anything for so long. I thought -- I thought I would never have the chance to learn again. Thank you, so much."

"Which warrior will you bring by your side?" Mooneye asked, momentarily looking up from her sparrow to give Bluefeather a calculating glance, her pale eyes satisfied.

"Tigerstorm," Bluefeather answered surprisingly fast. "And, uh, Beavertail, too, if he wants to come with. He won't go anywhere without her, so -- I guess he has to come if she does."

Mooneye exchanged a glance with the leader.

"I thought you two weren't speaking anymore. I mean -- just don't murder one of our most skilled warriors, we're kind of in a shortage."

Amberspots swallowed a meowl of indignation at this tasteless remark, but Bluefeather only purred.

"I'll try not to make a mess. Shall I go fetch them now?"

"Please, do," Coldstar nodded. "We're quite glad you found something to your liking. I hope you find the answers you look for, dear Bluefeather, and that you come back to us in one piece."

"Do bring us back some grandchildren," Amberspots added with a purr.

Bluefeather snarled, her eyes determined.

"The only grandchildren I'm going to bring back are the sons of the discoveries I make. Thank you, Coldstar. Mooneye."

She dipped her head, then walked out into the clearing. She didn't say goodbye to me, Amberspots thought a little selfishly. Well -- maybe not 'selfishly', but it certainly did feel selfish to think about such things when Bluefeather was having such a good time preparing for her trip. She gave her chest a few licks to cover up her embarrassment and sat back down, refusing to look at the other two mollies. She was being too emotional about this. It wasn't proper.

Then pawsteps rang from the outside and Bluefeather barged in.

"Wait, Amberspots, I forgot to say goodbye! It's just that I thought… you usually come with me on trips like these, so I… well, I suppose this time isn't… really like the others."
"I'm happy you came to say goodbye," Amberspots purred. "Remember to follow the warrior code, always. And do bring us some good herbs in a few moons. I'm very proud of you for following your dreams, little one."

Bluefeather rubbed her nose on Amberspots' cheek, her eyes glowing with emotion, before walking back outside. The old molly stared after her for a few moments, overcome with strange, bittersweet feelings. She's really growing up. She's becoming independent. I just hope she won't grow away from us. When she comes back, will it be the same, or will she have forgotten us?... Will she talk to me like to a stranger?... I'm so old already, next time she comes by, she probably will only see an elder, and not an old friend.

Suddenly, Amberspots felt more depressed than excited. A part of her mind wanted to cancel the trip, but another one knew it was good for Bluefeather to feel useful and smart again. As though her warrior training was suddenly waking up, she swallowed the bile in her throat and stood up curtly.

"I'm sorry, but I must go. I think Ravenwhisker will be waiting for me."

"Of course," Coldstar nodded.

They exchanged a nose-rub before Amberspots walked out of the den, leaving the leader and the deputy alone to talk about the latest developments. She felt a cold ache in her stomach that she didn't know would leave soon. She didn't know what to think anymore. Somehow, she had been hoping -- or at least, expecting -- her brother to care for her like a patient. She'd thought he would want to know where she was, and fret over her if she hurt herself. But she'd just realized that maybe he thought that she was a grown-up cat, and she could take care of herself. Maybe he thought that she didn't need him watching over her -- because, after all, he wasn't her mother.

She had thought about this a few times. He was the medicine cat , but none of his duties revolved around following her all day and making sure she was doing good. He was there for routine checkups, and for specific problems she might have, but the rest of the time, he did other things.

Thinking about this made her skin crawl. She felt like she had swallowed something bitter -- her fur felt gross and her skin was boiling. Was this shame? Was this it?

Then she bumped into a familiar black pelt and her senses came back to her.

"Ravenwhisker!" she exclaimed.

She realized she didn't really want to see him anymore. Maybe later -- but all she wanted to do right now was to curl on a bed of moss and digest her gross feelings, all by herself. Or maybe she would stare at the ceiling for a while. Maybe she was exaggerating, but she really did hate feeling like this.

And suddenly she had forgotten why she didn't want to see him -- she'd forgotten what her pain was. Feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she addressed him a small, tentative meowl of greeting. I don't know if I should be friendly I don't want to betray whatever part of e wasn't keen on talking. But -- I can't just act on impulse. I want to be nice to my brother.

She felt scared upon realizing how quickly her memory had faded, but decided that it was normal. Cats forgot things all the time.

"Amberspots!" Ravenwhisker hissed.

In a frantic mess of fur and noses, he sniffed her all over.

"Where were you? I thought you were lost -- gone in the forest, or -- or maybe gone to fight another ShadowClan patrol. Okay, this last one doesn't make sense, but -- you could have done it, I know you've been a bit more aggressive these days so anything is possible."

"What -- agressive?" Amberspots protested, shuffling out of his reach. "I'm have you know I'm a warrior of ThunderClan, and I follow the warrior code -- that stipulates mercy and tactics over mindless killing."

"I know, I know -- but where were you? As far as I know, you could have been anywhere, we needed to search for --"

Suddenly, the mention of a battle sent her heart racing through her throat, prompting her to be hunched over, shivering, feeling something cold settle over her. Then she barged out the contents of her stomach, and the rest was a blur.

Chapter 20: AN INFORMATION SNIPPET

Summary:

Not an actual chapter; a crucial information snippet on the actual living conditions of elderly people in my home country.

Okay, so I work at a shelter; it's a very small one, though, so it's got low budget and not much media information. It's an obscure place in a random part of town where there are about five kids maximum on the street after school ends, and even when it's vacation time, the streets are pretty silent and nobody talks. So, quiet place, not much social life going on outside. It's pretty much the same inside the building, honestly; the people are all sitting there in their rocking chairs, not talking to each other, not really moving or doing anything. Sometimes, it's even more noisy than outside -- and that's a big thing, because the only noise is the ventilation system and it's pretty quiet, too. So, yeah. Very inactive location, and a fitting inactive shelter. In that regard, it's very unlike Clan life, where the camp is many times described as a hive, buzzing with energy, and the elders' den is in contrast a place of peace and relaxation.

So, obviously, you're thinking, "There isn't many people there, of course they don't have much to do!". And that's quite true; there are about fifteen residents there as I post this, and the full potential is 25 people, plus three bathrooms and two small living rooms. That's excluding the staff's quarters; it takes up most of the underground space, and there are a few storage areas here and there. But the real deal is really the living room, because that's where the people sit and watch television. And since they're sitting there most of the day, it's fine to say that's the life of the shelter.

There is also a shortage of people working in them as of 2019. Nobody really goes to work in a shelter, a bit like the only cats regularly going to see the elders are apprentices that are forced to, and the medicine cat a few times a moon. I'd say the way cats see going to the elders' is pretty representative of how it works here: they're forgotten. People like to assume that they're doing good so they don't have to feel bad. "They're taking a break", or "it's better for them to go in those places", are both wildly common opinions in the public idea of what it's like to live in a shelter, but let me tell you: it sucks.

A real-life elder's residence is quiet, just like a Clan one. People sit in front of the television, stay in their rooms, or simply watch the hours pass. They rarely talk together, and exchange single words to ask questions about something that happens. My guess is that they are bored: the biggest activity of the day is to decide where to sit in the living room. The only chatting they do is at mealtime

There are very few people working in those places, which is disturbingly similar to the way Clan cats despise taking care of their elders, and do so begrudgingly. Workers act like apprentices being punished and rejoice when their shift is over. I'd say the only difference is that apprentices don't get mad when elders soil their bedding, unlike workers. It's needless to say that there are very few people that decide to work in their local shelter, and even less that know where said shelter would be. For the 15-ish used chambers in the shelter I work at, there are at best two workers on the floor -- and to say that is an exaggeration. To have two workers on board is amazing news, and to have three is a miracle. I've never seen more than three employees on floor at the same time, and that is including me. There are so few people that are willing to work for the poor salary and depressing situation that even bad or disrespectful workers are kept in.

I can't talk for all of them, but in the one I know, the ambiance is quite depressing. To say people are happy there would be a lie. And they're lonely. They get no visitors except for their immediate family, but -- old coworkers, brothers, sisters? Only children visit regularly. When a new face appears, they become ecstatic, and suddenly, the room is full of life. If you left a good enough impression, they might even keep talking after you leave, and you may hear them laugh together for a little while, but inevitably, the sound dies and the silence comes back.

From what I hear, old people don't share legends or stuff like that. Honestly, I really don't know where that comes from, but it might just be that I haven't met enough older people to know yet. As of now, I've been in a few conversations, and we've talked about my new haircut, where I go to school, the noise that annoys them at night, and the quality of the food. Sometimes, when they feel friendly, they'll tell me about their childhood, and reminisce about things they used to like. One woman told me she loved seeing, and she would sew dresses. She made her own wedding dress, she said, and her eyes lit up like the stars. She looked very happy for a while, which made me reflect on the fact that she didn't do it anymore. I asked if it made her sad that she didn't see anymore, to which she said she was too old.

Another thing I noticed is how many of the people I work with don't want to try new activities often. When I ask them about drawing, or writing, they tell me: "no, I'm not good at it", or "I'm not good enough", and refuse to try, and if I convince them and they try, they often stop after a few missed shots and tell me in this resigned voice that it's no use, they're not good at it, and go sit back down. But they look happier afterwards, and look at me in hopes that I'll talk to them. I don't, sadly, because I'm really shy about those things, but I'm sure I should, and it would make them happy. Simply talking to them makes their lives better.

About that, there is a very grave issue I must talk about here. The issue of the services they are given. The people caring for their needs is often very disrespectful of them, and their needs. I've seen more times than I can count an older person being yelled at by an employee. People with Alzheimer's confused at where they are; touchy-feely people with no boundaries trying to tell you something but not being able to talk; disabled people simply talking -- all of those people get regularly yelled at, or get shoved off, or growled at to go away, or to stop talking, or to walk faster. The truth is that the formation we get isn't very helpful as to the psychological aspect of the work. They don't learn how to comfort someone in crisis, or help someone to their meal. They do the physical work, but the mental one isn't theirs. But there are no psychologists that are assigned to the shelters, only CSLCs going once a week to give the people a bath. So I've seen many things that are linked to the workforce's negligence or good-natured lack of expertise, such as addressing people like children (using a coo-coo voice, using words like "sweetie" or "honey", telling people they're "your little girl"), ordering them around (which can perhaps be a good thing, or a normal thing, but in context, it sounds like infantilization, which means treating people like children in a demeaning or hurtful way). Some worst examples are to deprive someone of dinner because they didn't come on time (dinnertime is also the time when the people get their medicine, making this actions a cruel and possibly very harmful thing to the client), screaming at clients to go away or obey (such as yelling at a confused client who can't remember where you asked them to go and who go back to you in confusion, or losing patience at people for peeing their pants). I also saw a worker complain loudly and very rudely about "the awful stench" of someone's pants, and comment on how many times this has happened (right in front of the patient). And I think it's obvious that patients with dementia are treated like the spawn of Satan and looked at in horror or in disgust, and shooed away like they have something contagious. Even workers yell at them that they've "gotten enough of their yammering" and address them in a perpetual irritated way. The point of this was to highlight the differences and similarities between Clan life and actual shelters, but there was also another point: inform people. Bottom line is simple: be nice to your elders.

Chapter 21: The Coldness of Yarrow

Summary:

What's left of that scrapped chapter I told you guys about (it's all a flashback. Old Amberspots isn't really there for a few chapters, she's asleep. She's sick yo)

"Well, she's pregnant, you know… it's…"
"She's been pregnant before, what makes this time new?" Ravenwhisker asked from the depths of his herb-stash.

Amberspots shook her head from the place where she was pacing. Her white spots looked even brighter in the warmth of greenleaf.

"I don't know, it's just… the finality of it. She's with him, and it's clear that, after so much time, they won't break up. It's… well, it's over. I mean, we were young, and I thought -- cats don't stay with their first loves sometimes, or… I don't know. Take Father, I guess."

Ravenwhisker bristled at the word.

"Don't -- he's not that. It's not like that."

Amberspots sat down to stop from fidgeting, and walked over to her brother to soothe him.

"Yeah -- I get you, but -- that doesn't stop the problem. What am I supposed to do now?"

Ravenwhisker tilted his head to look at her. His yellow eyes seemed confused.

"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I… I just… I don't know what to do anymore. I… I made her the center of my life for so long… I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I always thought wwe would be mates someday, and grow old together, but… I'm just lost. I don't know what life will be anymore."

Ravenwhisker emerged with a ball of herbs in his jaws and spat it back in the front of the den, and as he started to mix them with some other plants, he looked back at his sister with a frustrated look.

"I don't know -- I've never really oriented my life around a mate. It's never been something I cared about, I don't how to help. I mean -- tell me what you need. What do you need me to say?"
"I don't know, it doesn't work like that. You could just… listen. I don't know. That helps, I mean -- it's not an exam. You don't need answers, sometimes -- sometimes, you just have to be there and listen."

Ravenwhisker took some time to chew all the herbs together into a bright pulp, before he spat them into a bundle of leaves.

"Alright. Well, lay it on me."
"I don't know what to do anymore. It feels like I have no cat else but you to make my life about. I just -- I don't know. I wanted to make my life about someone, but -- there isn't anyone else but you. And -- it wouldn't be bad, but… we don't have very similar lives. I couldn't tag along."

Ravenwhisker nodded. His eyes were soft.

"Not like when we were kits."
"Yeah, I still remember that time I fell off the tree. It hurt like fire the next two moons."

She scratched her backside as though a phantom pain had resurfaced, then sighed.

"I don't know what to do anymore, brother. It feels like there are so many paths I could choose, but every one of them feels like the wrong one. Is it wrong to feel like this? Should I just try harder to be a good warrior, and make my days good ones in the Clan history? It doesn't make sense; I should be happy here -- right? Is there something I'm missing? Something that makes cats feel like they live a good life?"

She sighed.

"I… Mother would say that -- this is the type of situations that Mother always shone in," Amberspots gurgled. "I miss her. I can't believe she's gone. Oh, I truly can't believe it. It feels like yesterday we were going on walks to stretch our legs and grow strong. And played Rabbit in the clearing…"

Ravenwhisker swallowed a sigh and nuzzled her side.

"I know. It feels like any day, she could just… burst out of the nursery, and -- and ask us if we tried this nice new prey type that she's sure we'd like to try. She was… so creative. Always thinking of ways to entertain us."

Her brother shook his head, his features dark and concealed.

"I don't want her to be gone, I -- I want StarClan to get her back, to -- to -- it has to be a dream."

He tried to digest his pain, but he was shaking, and he seemed like he was on the verge of letting out a wail. Amberspots felt her heart break down and a jolt of panic shake her, and she cuddled against Ravenwhisker's warm, sleek pelt in an effort to soothe the scalding grief she heard in his voice.

When she looked at him, pain seemed to be almost bubbling under his eyes, as thought their yellow parts were growling and burning, like a small sun, or a ball of fire. It felt like all the grief he had not said was alight in his eyes, and it was slowly consuming him. Amberspots face his head a few soothing licks, and she finally heard a thin wail from him, and the noise was so much more horrible than she had expected. But at the same time, it felt calming, soothing. He was finally crying. It was good to hear, in a way.

But as liberating as it was, she couldn't hold back her own grief at seeing him so hurt, and soon, she, too, was crying. A part of her was telling her that such emotions were ridiculous, and that there was no reason to be so loud, and so upfront. That everything was fine, and that she was being a bad warrior, a shameful one, for letting her emotions get the best of her like this. But as she said that, a warm buzzing enveloped her, like a tear, or someone's pelt -- like Breezetail's pelt. And she cried, and for once, she didn't question her wails.

Chapter 22: Breaking the Ice

Summary:

Aren't I so good ar coming up with chapter names on rhe spot :3

(Just kidding but srsly I farted that out of my brain-hole at 3AM please love me)

Amberspots opened her eyes, and saw a flurry of faces next to her. There was Ravenwhisker -- and Amberspots would have gotten up to fetch him if it were not the case --, there was Tigerstorm, licking her pelt to cool her down, just like Amberspots once had done to Breezetail when she had eaten a bad piece of fresh-kill. And there was Beavertail, and he looked distressed -- exchanging words with Fernpaw, asking what he could do to help. And she caught a glimpse of Bluefeather's smell near the entrance, but she was far away.

But the smell that was the closest was Coldstar's, fresh and warm and reassuring, and when she looked into her big, orange eyes, she felt safe. And she told herself, One day, I would have wished it was Brownbelly next to me. And as much as I adore Brownbelly and always will love her, I think… I think this is good. I -- I have no regrets anymore. This -- this is what I want.

And she thought, she did still love Brownbelly. But Brownbelly wasn't like Coldstar. She didn't joke, and she wasn't carefree and soothing, and she didn't greet her with a purr and a loving lick on the face. She wasn’t the bright coldness of leaf-fall breeze and the coziness of a sleeping cat’s breath next to yours, or the complexity of stars and the humour of aiming a paw at a leaf pile. And she could tell her things that she never could have told Brownbelly. They were different cats, but for Amberspots, it was okay. Because she wouldn't trade Coldstar for anyone.

She still remembered the day she had realized it for the first time…

*

Amberspots was mumbling to herself. Lost in her convoluted train of thought that revolved around the idea that there had to be something wrong with the cat she called a father -- or with her own head, or with the Clan -- that there had to be something wrong with her life to make her feel so upset all the time -- she went on and on, and she didn't notice Coldstar walking next to her. She bumped into the leader, right before melting down in a flurry of frustrated apologies. Some ridiculous part of her wanted to hiss a rude, impatient "Watch where you're going, don't you think we have rules about where cats walk for nothing?", but this was the leader, and she couldn't possibly say that to another cat anyways -- and it would be rude to react in anger and aggression to something so small…

Then, she thought about how gigantic this tiny angry feeling would feel if she had been fighting with a friend, or a mate, and had said the same thing -- of how, according to old mates she'd met, cats started to know and expect the flaws in other cats when they spent a lot of time with them. Their qualities seemed less divine, and their faults felt somehow obnoxious. It was terrifying to think that she could potentially hurt someone she held so dearly by this bit of anger -- and with that in mind, she bowed down her head and blurted out apologies.

"I'm sorry, Coldstar, I didn't know what I -- I don't know what's -- sorry, you were walking to the nursery and I got in your way. Sorry."

"Nonsense, there's nothing harmful about brushing shoulders," Coldstar protested with a purr. "If anything, it sparkled conversation. So -- did you meet the new kits?"

Amberspots purred.

"Graykit and Whitekit. They look as sweet as a leaf-bare night. I look forward to seeing them grow in good health."

Then she swallowed.

"I mean, not that there's anything wrong with being just a kit, you know. It's just that -- I don't know, it's just a thing we say, and, uh. I don't know, I guess I'm trying to say that I hope their lives will be wonderful and that I'll do my best to protect them and lay down my life -- if necessary, like, um. Like the warrior code says, of course. Not -- and here I am, yammering on about random things that probably… Probably freak you out. I -- I'm really sorry, I should -- I'll go."

She had half a mind to turn around and go fetch some fresh-kill for the new parents, but the rest of her felt she needed to stay until she was dismissed. I even -- ugh. I almost got all bitter about Leafsong. I'm a failure.

She decided to excuse herself, and thus walked to the fresh-kill pile, keeping her gaze focused on a shrew to drown everything else out. After it was done and she had settled down with the fresh-kill, she felt something empty settle in her stomach. She looked back at the nursery, feeling as though something had been taken from her and she was not whole. It feels ridiculous to be so alone, but… I mean -- I shouldn't get so attached to cats, it's not -- it's not natural. I shouldn't make them the center of my existence. I'm too lost without them, it's absurd and it will only lead to sorrow. She sighed. That's why Mother told me once. I was a kit, so I don't know if I remembered it well -- I remember I used to overreact to statements back then. Perhaps I misunderstood what she meant. And -- this stinks. This just… stinks.

She took a bite out of her meal, trying to savor its musky taste, but all she could think of was how much better this would have been if Brownbelly had been with her. If she had been even just standing a few pawsteps away -- it would have sufficed to make the meal less boring.

Amberspots felt some sort of headache blow up in her head, accompanied by the desire to cry and curl up in a ball for a few patrol-worths of time. She couldn't, of course, and to even imply the opposite was absurd, but -- all the same, she still wanted to grieve. Even if, well, a good friend wouldn't grieve for this, would they not? They would adapt, and be happy for their friend…

I know I told Ravenwhisker that I liked her, but…. that was just me being a stupid young kit. I wasn't -- I couldn't know what love actually was. I couldn't know how powerful and all-encompassing it would be…

She realized she had forgotten her meal and was staring broodingly over the horizon. I must look very rude right now. I hope Coldstar didn't see that… Nervously, she turned her head towards the nursery, to see that Coldstar, although she had not moved an inch, seemed to be lost in thought rather than fascinated with her morningtime meal. Amberspots strangely didn't feel relieved at this notion, but nodded to herself in acknowledgement. As she caught sight of where her thoughts were leading to, she bristled: Seriously? No, this is not love. That would be unacceptable. I am still in love with Brownsta -- Brownbelly, how -- how could I even mix these two names up? I meant -- I literally just gave up on… on having a future with Brownbelly, the last thing that would be good right now would be a ridiculous replacement romance. I mean -- seriously, I have to grieve first, and…

She stopped herself as she mentioned "grief". It felt wrong to call it that. She knew grief -- the overwhelming craze for anything that might make your day even a little bit better. The wave of sorrow that washed over you when you even walked outside your nest. The fear of even saying the word, of making them die for real. Grief was not for romance. Grief was for cats who got killed and didn't come back -- grief was for funerals and memories of a battled-down corpse, or of an herb-scented caricature of your mother that was supposed to look like she was asleep -- but it could never fool you, because she never looked so...

Then she heard pawsteps coming closer, and as she looked aside to see who it was, she came face-to-face with Coldstar's warm orange eyes, and stood there petrified. Do something! she growled internally. Don't just stand there with your mouth open -- this is the leader! Look alive!

"Would you like some fresh-kill?" Amberspots asked instinctively.

She winced at her lack of tact immediately afterwards. She knew she had promised herself to never be ashamed of something so superficial and subliminal as tact -- why should she be ashamed or brood over something that was nothing more than a convention? Messing up words didn't hold any real weight, not did it mean anything about her character -- it was just about adaptation to society. She didn't feel very inclined to adapt to how cats were supposed to engage conversation -- because why did it matter? It was way more interesting to say whatever came to mind. If every cat simply said what they meant, conversations would be way more refreshing, Amberspots thought to herself. But even with all her best effort, somehow, it seemed that she has begun to care. Sometime between apprenticeship and warrior duties, she had apparently grown more aware about how she approached cats. Bummer.

She wondered briefly if the fact that she never had cared before about how she appeared to other cats meant she did not care for them, and felt worried for a little while. But then, Coldstar blinked, and she was brought back to the present.

"I mean -- maybe, I, uh, had something to do in the nursery," Coldstar stuttered. "Maybe I'm come back later. Your offer is very kind," she added warmly.

Amberspots purred, feeling herself be lost in the affectionate eyes of her leader. She had always had a knack for making cats feel at ease. She simply seemed so charming… then Amberspots remembered that she didn't want anything to do with romance until she had gotten over Brownbelly, and she swallowed those feelings down her stomach like a big bite of shrew.

"Well, yeah! I, uh, maybe later? Maybe we can, uh -- eat. Uh."

Amberspots grimaced at the awkwardness of her speech. That wasn't even a sentence. She thought she should make fun of herself, but then admitted that it was a pretty rude joke to make, because it would make cats who always struggled with speech very uncomfortable, and so she decided to swallow another bite to pretend that this sentence was a good one. Well, I've done it again. "Pretend this sentence is a good one" -- I know my humour revolves around making crude statements about my "faults", but that's just rude.

"Of course!" Coldstar purred distractedly, her gaze settled on the warriors' nest. "Well, I must be going, now. I'll see you on patrol, my friend."

She went a few pawsteps closer to the den, then stopped abruptly, looking confused. (Amberspots was looking at her, even though she convinced herself there was a very good and logical reason why. Which there wasn't. She was just looking at Coldstar because she liked to, but don't ask her about that.)

"Well, that's not the nursery," Coldstar muttered to herself. "I suppose I should go the other way."

For some reason, Amberspots had half a mind to add something along the lines of: "Well, that's good -- it's an extra adventure for you", but something felt stupid about saying that out loud. Perhaps it was the fact that she had somehow imagined the sentence with a tom's voice.

Then suddenly, something clicked and she just knew how to react.

"Coldstar -- are you okay? Do you want to stay and eat something?" Amberspots asked with a badly repressed purr. "C'mere, it's fresh."

She felt her voice was mocking, but she thought it was the farthest away from that. Somehow, seeing Coldstar acting aloof seemed reassuring. She was just like Amberspots. It felt so alike that she couldn't help but feel some sort of pull towards the older warrior, something telling her to stay close and never let go. How often had Amberspots hesitated like this between two chores, unable to choose, overcome by anxiety?

She looked up expectantly at her leader, feeling her face brighten up, and Coldstar let our a purr. She padded towards Amberspots -- and the amber cat couldn't help but notice how her paws were grayer, as though she was meant to roam around with paws in the dust. It was somehow very attractive -- wait, she wasn't supposed to think that, was she? She decided to pretend it made her think of food instead, and looked back down at her meal.

"You can have first bite," Amberspots meowed quietly.

I'm ruining everything. Why am I such a mouse-brain? And -- to think that those worries are so small. I never thought those to be the worst thing possible until a few moons ago. I change so much -- and in such a bad way. I'm an airhead. I keep thinking I'm so smart, but nothing I say is actually --

"Is something troubling you, dear?" Coldstar meowed suddenly. "You seem tense."

"Yeah, but -- it's no big deal," Amberspots minimized. "How are you feeling? That has to be more important."

Coldstar didn't answer right away and bit into the fresh-kill first.

"Oh, my troubles are quite superficial, don't worry. I'm much more interested in knowing what makes you so sad."

Amberspots shrugged. She thought about declining her offer -- since when was the leader of all cats the right person to talk about her worries about? But then, she told herself that she really did need to talk. And before she knew it, she was blurting out everything.

"I just feel like nothing I do works. I don't know what to do. My best friend has kits and a mate, and -- I know she won't have a place for me anymore. And -- I know it isn't bad, and I should get over it. But -- it's so tiring to keep pretending all the time. I just… I wish I could tell cats what I feel without fearing their anger, or risking their disrespect. I just.. I'm tired of feeling like I have to hide myself and my feelings."

She took a second to catch her breath, and also to stabilize herself. I said I was telling her everything -- I can't stop halfway. So what if it sounds ridiculous? I have to tell someone!

"And -- and it's just too much to always think about how cats didn't use to like me because I talked too much, or -- I didn't earn their respect. I wish I could just fight someone strong enough so that they cheer for me, for once. But… I know it's childish, and it's never going to happen."

Then she bowed her head and waited for the inevitable criticism. She had been talking too much -- worse, she had been talking nonsense. There was no place in ThunderClan for those who talked nonsense -- only for those who always had the best and brightest ideas and tactics. Those who always were able to control what they thought about. She was just a pathetic excuse of a warrior, with her stupid thought process that she wasn't even able to control most of the times. She was like a kit.

I mean -- good for you guys, I would love to be in charge of my logic, too! That's just too bad I can't control it. Why do cats have to have so little respect for those who can't make elaborate sentences like them? Or big strands of logic? Anger burned through her like a snowstorm, cold and electric, and for a second, she felt her hair rise up. But she decided to let go of it at once. It wasn't right to be mad at cats and insult them about something they had never known about, was it? And she was sure her mentor -- or her mother -- would tell her that she was being absurd, and too passionnate. She was being scary, and hurtful, and disrespectful, was she not? She should be quiet.

Coldstar nodded and took a bite out of their meal. She seemed relaxed, and for a second, it was like they were two friends sharing secrets, and not the leader and her most reckless warrior having an unprofessional conversation together.

"Oh, dear, that sounds horrible a thing to experience."

Amberspots felt her pelt grow warm. This was… really nice to hear.

"Um. Thanks!" Amberspots meowed back.

Chapter 23: Going with the Flow

Amberspots tilted her head to the side, a longing purr stuck to her whiskers as she tried to get crumbs off her brother's fur. He had fallen asleep during herb-stacking again, and it would have been worrying if she hadn't been amused at the sight of the experienced medicine cat snoring face-first in mole. He looked like there were ticks in his pelt, she thought as she flailed a paw to get the seeds off his ridiculously fluffy pelt. If poppy seeds were only a bit bigger, she probably would need to remove them with her teeth.

Amberspots thought she was being cranky -- after all, why be annoyed when her brother was sleeping so peacefully? With his full belly and his relaxed muzzle, he looked as happy as when he'd been but a tiny kit napping in the sun. Except he had more white patches than he used to, so many that it was as though snow was perpetually falling in from of him. Or, well -- bit lumps of snow. Maybe more like Sunningrocks from a bird's-eye view. White splotches on brown dirt. Except that Sunningrocks was tightly packed together, and there was also always RiverClan bickering on the other side. To be fair, ThunderClan was also very much bickering back with them. She'd call it a loving relationship if they hadn't been so bitter and vengeful towards each other.

Battle-frenzied warriors, Amberspots grunted to herself. When will they stop looking for a fight?

They were so consistent in their appearances that she could almost see all of them, ThunderClan with their wide ears flat on each side, and RiverClan hissing and spitting from the other side, moving like otters as they got closer to the riverside. someone, inevitably, would scream for invasion, because as soon as RiverClan moved towards the river, someone would become scared and yell at them. She remembered the day a RiverClan cat threw a pinecone at the border. That didn't go too well. Someone screamed RiverClan were declaring war, because why else would they throw a pinecone at then? What other meaning could it have? They were panicked, understandably, because war was horrible and they wanted no part in it; then RiverClan cats became panicked, too, thinking they effectively had declared war. nobody wanted to be the one to start it, or have any part in it, so try threw accusations left and right and tried to leave. Everyone started screaming. It had been a fantastic day. Amberspots' ears still rang from the panicked yowls that she's been shredded with from where she had been hunting that day.

Amberspots wanted to be angry at how loud everyone was here, and at how aggressive cats could be, but she chose to bite her tongue and wash off the seeds that had stayed stuck in her paws. She noticed they were gray with mud, and asked herself when she'd washed for the last time. But the question frustrated her and she let it go. Maybe Ravenwhisker could tell her. She didn't want to think about it.

Was there something she'd meant to ask Ravenwhisker about? The seeds? Something about her paws... She could never remember, it was infuriating. Why couldn't she just recall? She needed something for that. Oh! Right, the seeds that were stuck to her paws. She needed to know where they were supposed to go. Or… where to put them for now. She looked at her paw blankly. Her fur looked strangely long. Some strands of popping white fur looked almost rigid against the dark skin of her… what were they called? Oh well.

And she'd completely forgotten about her… paw-things. Were they called paw-things? Breezetail could have told her. She knew everything there had to be known about words. Didn't really make sense to her back then how a Clan cat knew so much if they were just a warrior. Why wasn't she a medicine cat or something if she knew so much? Didn't she want the title that came with it, Amberpaw would ask her. Breezetail would shake her head. She's purr, but something akin to annoyance would stick to her face. Or maybe Amberspots had always been imagining that. Seriously -- she really didn't always know what actually happened from what she'd imagined. During her early warrior years, things had become more confusing. She didn't even like thinking back to that time to uncurl the strings like a messy pelt.

I'm going off-topic, Amberspots told herself softly. But she didn't really mind for now. She felt strangely nostalgic all of a sudden. I'm sure you'll forgive me, Ravenwhisker, if I do. This is… soothing.

She didn't know why. And from the likes of it, it was like, when she talked about things this way, she spoke a different language. Ravenwhisker and her weren't on the same planet anymore. They were far away from each other and could only look at each other from a great distance, from mountaintop to shore, or treetop, or ravine, cliff, anything else. They were just… well, she didn't know what they were. Different? Was he saving her when he told her to talk more clearly? She didn't like the idea that he'd be her savior. Her thoughts were good enough, weren't they?

Now, her face was burning. Amberspots buried it under her paws. See what happens when you go against your better judgement? This shouldn't be happening. Amberspots sighed. I need a break. I need to bury all of this under a big pile of dirt and relax. I can't look at trees at all when all of this is here.

She stopped. It felt like she wasn't breathing. And she was, of course, but her chest felt silent. So silent it felt almost empty, but in a warm, fuzzy kind of way. It was almost nice. It reminded her of her mother. But she was being off-topic again. Was this the same dreamlike state she'd been in quite a few times this season?

Amberspots shook her head. Time had flown so fast. She didn't remember what had happened these last moons. Everything had passed by so fast and so slow. She didn't remember anything worth hanging onto. Except Ravenwhisker. Always, Ravenwhisker could be remembered. Or maybe she was just saying that to be a better sister. Even if he wasn't listening, it couldn't be bad to get some good luck on her side. But hopefully, it didn't actually help. That kind of superstition was the absolute worst. Even if it wasn't a real sentence. And even if she needed to wash her mouth now, because she was speaking like a newborn.

Also… hunting. Hunting. She needed to hunt. No, but -- words were hard to find sometimes. She couldn't find them. She could find related ones, but it didn't really work in her favor, since cats said she was speaking nonsense then. She wished she could just try harder to succeed and so they'd stop. It wasn't a good plan. Not really.

Here she was, speaking and reacting like a kit. She wasn't acting her age. How old was she? They never really counted past six moons, or, well, some did, but mostly to keep track of when they'd reach adulthood. But adult cats? Nobody counted, right? Did they? Was she just the weirdo that hadn't counted? Great. Another reason not to show her face in public.

She'd completely forgotten why she was here. Was she supposed to think about something specific? She'd woken up today, surely it was for something. Or maybe not. Maybe she'd woken earlier and she couldn't remember. Had she told Ravenwhisker about this? Maybe he could help.

Was she even doing something she was supposed to do? Maybe she ought to wait. But… it wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to be doing this. She wasn't doing anything worth remembering, was she? Had there been something she ought to remember earlier today? Something that would be… good, or something? Good in the sense that it would get her some sort of drive? Not drive -- again with the words that would be confusing. No, more like the sentences. She wasn't -- this was just more confusing. Were cats stupid or was she just so featherbrained that she could keep track of her own thoughts and not them? Flaw, feature, what was it? Insulting, that's what it was.

Okay, what was she supposed to be doing? She had to figure it out. Amberspots rested her head on her paw and sunk onto it. She let the bones dig into her cheek until they felt like the physical representation of motivation. This was probably a weird thought. Was she supposed to keep telling herself that it was weird? Would she just lose all her individuality? Was she even supposed to… oh, whatever.

Amberspots sighed. She ought to go back to sleep. Her mind was too tired for this. Maybe Mother or another medicine cat would have told her she was being ridiculous, and she shouldn't give up. Maybe another cat would have answered they didn't understand where she came from, and why she said that, but Amberspots would have told that cat that they were mistake. What did the baggage matter? But nobody would have understood her answer, since they didn't understand what she said anyways. Amberspots felt lost, like a traveler in Twolegplace.

That metaphor hit a wall. Amberspots had no idea how to spin it so it would sound logical. Surely Twolegs weren't supposed to understand cat speech, since their brains didn't work the same way, and they didn't look the same. Nothing in their nature told them they were supposed to understand cat speech.

Was that rude of her? She was saying something like… "Cats should understand what I say." Was that rude? Presumptuous? Was she supposed to analyze every single one of her thought like this? Was that what made her so snob?

Amberspots really wanted to go back to sleep now. Should she tell Ravenwhisker she'd been awake? Had she even been awake earlier? Was she thinking of the right things? Now her eyes burned in her skull and her paws ached as though every strand of hair was too heavy a burden to carry.

She needed to find direction. Except her tail hurt from clenching it, and her paws hurt, and her legs hurt. She hated arthritis. It sucked. She couldn't even sleep. What was she supposed to do? Take a walk? She didn't want to take a walk, and the idea of looking at the ice-blue camp made her stomach curl. Or something.

But her paws kept sending her red-hot waves. Squinting, the old warrior scrambled to her paws until she reached the side of the clearing. Or… she couldn't scramble to her paws all the way outside, so she probably just walked. Or ran. Whatever. She felt antsy now, and her toes -- wait! Was that the word she'd been searching for? Toe -- toe -- cushions? Pads? Just her pads? Toepads? Pawpads? The sunny joy that had bloomed in her chest suddenly flickered. Cold, wet strands of whatever she was feeling were throwing themselves all over the place. Strangely enough, it was as though she was able to see it. Ethereal yellow, dark blue, green.

Whatever. It was cold. Cold didn't help her joints. Or. It didn't when she could feel her legs. Which she didn't. Amberspots felt like she's found a loophole, which felt dishonorable, which felt funny but also very sad. She wanted to apologize to her brother. And also get something to eat.

Did she, though? No, Amberspots decided. I'm not in the mood for… To… talking to cats.

Breezetail would have said she was a shadow of her past self. It really sounded made-up in hindsight, but Breezetail always had a very particular way of speaking. Which also sounded made-up.

No, StarClan -- forgive my tone, but it isn't a lie. She spoke this way. She did. Search my memories and you'll see I'm being honest. She talked like that. She thought that.

Well, her life did sound made-up, too, so there wasn't much harm in that, Amberspots supposed.

Was she supposed to think of something? Yes -- right. Thinking… her… thing… promise… Coldstar? No, no. Something yellow? Something… promising, something -- Breezetail saying she was a shadow of herself. Not that made-up, after all. It sounded less threatening when she said it a second time.

Amberspots felt antsy again. And young. Too young. Had she always been like this?

I do have the distinct memory that my speech was better, she snarled.

No, she wasn't supposed to be this rude. Was she? Wasn't everyone? Oh, dear. This was quite the predicament, wasn't it? And now she sounded like… A strange combination of her mother and Coldstar. Disturbing enough to not want to think about it. Which wasn't…

She needed a lot of sleep, did she not?

But…

And her joints hurt. Okay, whatever. Amberspots aggressively decided she had done whatever she meant to do and stomped back to her nest. Or the nest Ravenwhisker had made for her. Was she supposed to use it?

Oh, no. Sleep, she snarled, and she closed her eyes angrily.

Chapter 24: Comfortable Days of Old

Notes:

This is just "Breaking the Ice" but updated -- more text, and more gushing over Coldstar -- and hopefully less typos. also, I actually thought of a chapter name instead of deciding it on the spot. I do like "Breaking the Ice" though, since it's sort of what happens between them. I might re-change the chapter name soon.

Original caption:

"Aren't I so good ar coming up with chapter names on rhe spot :3

(Just kidding but srsly I farted that out of my brain-hole at 3AM please love me)"

Amberspots opened her eyes, and saw a flurry of faces next to her. There was Ravenwhisker -- and Amberspots would have gotten up to fetch him if it were not the case --, there was Tigerstorm, licking her pelt to cool her down, just like Amberspots once had done to Breezetail when she had eaten a bad piece of fresh-kill. And there was Beavertail, and he looked distressed -- exchanging words with Fernpaw, asking what he could do to help. And she caught a glimpse of Bluefeather's smell near the entrance, but she was far away.

But the smell that was the closest was Coldstar's, fresh and warm and reassuring, and when she looked into her big, orange eyes, she felt safe. And she told herself, One day, I would have wished it was Brownbelly next to me. And as much as I adore Brownbelly and always will cherish her, I think… I think this is good. I -- I have no regrets anymore. This -- this is what I want.

And she thought, she did still love Brownbelly. Anyone would love a fun-loving, adventurous molly who never turned down a dare and who always ran off to the training grounds before anyone was awake to practice on her own, despite being bedridden or pregnant. That was just common sense. Everyone loved Brownbelly, it was almost funny. But Brownbelly wasn't like Coldstar. Brownbelly was fun and happy, but she didn't joke, and if she loved adventure and telling a good story, she wasn't carefree enough to make time for comfort and joy in the middle of a busy day, or soothing enough to want to spend time with you and wake you just to tell you to come see the sunrise, and if she always groomed her friends’ fur and gave them affectionnate teasings and food everyday, she didn't greet her with a happy purr and a loving lick on the face. She wasn’t the coldness of leaf-fall breeze when you’re cozied-up next to a warm piece of mouse and snuggled deep into your mate’s fur, looking outside and seeing each other’s eyes instead of star patterns, and the coziness of a cat’s breath next to yours, or the complexity of stars and how skies merge together, or the humour of aiming a paw at a leaf pile and aiming sand at high branches during training. And she could tell her things that she never could have told Brownbelly, because Coldstar understood, and she shared back her own secrets that were as untraceable as the midnight stars and as confusing as one of Mothermouth’s tunnels, and O, how she looked bright and sure of herself whenever she shared. Like a cat come down from StarClan, a leader of old. They were different cats, but that was the best thing. As far as she had a say, to Amberspots, it was absolutely for the best. Because she wouldn't trade Coldstar if StarClan came down and asked her to rewrite everything. Even, or especially, for Brownbelly.

She still remembered the day she had realized it for the first time… “It was a rainy day. The sky was overly gray, but a very soothing kind of gray. A pale one that almost looked white, which could confuse an old cat like me, all lost in her rambling, not sure if this was leaf-bare or leaf-fall we were talking about here. But back then, I was young -- well, young-ish, this wasn’t my first time seeing a friend’s litter, I was middle-aged at best -- would have told you with certainty that this was very much leaf-fall, and that I was very much brooding to myself on the cold, misty day that it looked like it would continue to be, even after sunhigh meal. But even then, I didn’t know if it really was sunhigh because the sun was nowhere to be seen, and gray shadows loomed all over the nearby nursery and made it all look very gloomy. Yet the darkness of the air had a certain cold quality to it that made it certain, after all, that it was still daytime, and would be for, obviously enough, the rest of the day.”

But the young molly didn’t have the mind to think about all that right now. Amberspots was mumbling to herself. Lost in her convoluted train of thought that revolved around the idea that there had to be something wrong with the cat she called a father -- or with her own head, or with the Clan -- that there had to be something wrong with her life to make her feel so upset all the time -- she went on and on, and she didn't notice Coldstar walking next to her. She bumped into the leader, right before melting down in a flurry of frustrated apologies.

Some ridiculous part of her wanted to hiss a rude, impatient "Watch where you're going, don't you think we have rules about where cats walk for nothing?", but this was the leader, and she couldn't possibly say that to another cat anyways -- and it would be rude to react in anger and aggression to something so small…

Then, she thought about how gigantic this tiny angry feeling would feel if she had been fighting with a friend, or a mate, and had said the same thing -- of how, according to old mates she'd met, cats started to know and expect the flaws in other cats when they spent a lot of time with them. Their qualities seemed less divine, and their faults felt somehow obnoxious. It was terrifying to think that she could potentially hurt someone she held so dearly by this bit of anger -- and with that in mind, she bowed down her head and blurted out apologies.

"I'm sorry, Coldstar, I didn't know what I -- I don't know what's -- sorry, you were walking to the nursery and I got in your way. Sorry."

"Nonsense, there's nothing harmful about brushing shoulders," Coldstar soothed with a purr, her orange eyes glinting happily to ease the tension between the younger warrior’s shoulders. "If anything, it sparkled conversation.

Even thinking back to it, Amberspots thought she had had masterful tact to answer so calmly. “She knew how to react to my panic better than I did myself. Is that insulting to me? Eh. I mean, does anybody really know how to make me calm down, except her? Even Mother could barely manage such a task, and she tried. So often. With herbs and leaves… but I’m rambling.”

“So -- did you meet the new kits?"

Amberspots purred.

"Graykit and Whitekit. They look as sweet as a leaf-bare night. I look forward to seeing them grow in good health."

Then she swallowed.

"I mean, not that there's anything wrong with being just a kit, you know, and staying like that a long time, not at all. It's just that -- I don't know, it's just a thing we say, and, uh. I don't know, I guess I'm trying to say that I hope their lives will be wonderful and that I'll do my best to protect them and lay down my life -- if necessary, like, um. Like the warrior code says, of course. Not -- and here I am, yammering on about random things that probably… Probably freak you out. I -- I'm really sorry, I should -- I'll go."

She had half a mind to turn around and go fetch some fresh-kill for the new parents, but the rest of her felt she needed to stay until she was dismissed. “I even -- ugh. I almost got all bitter about Leafsong. I'm a failure.”

She decided to excuse herself, and thus walked to the fresh-kill pile, keeping her gaze focused on a shrew to drown everything else out. After it was done and she had settled down with the fresh-kill, she felt something empty settle in her stomach. She looked back at the nursery, feeling as though something had been taken from her and she was not whole. “It feels ridiculous to be so alone, but… I mean -- I shouldn't get so attached to cats, it's not -- it's not natural. I shouldn't make them the center of my existence. I'm too lost without them, it's absurd and it will only lead to sorrow.” She sighed. “That's why Mother told me once. I was a kit, so I don't know if I remembered it well -- I remember I used to overreact to statements back then. Perhaps I misunderstood what she meant. And -- this stinks. This just… stinks.”

She took a bite out of her meal, trying to savor its musky taste, but all she could think of was how much better this would have been if Brownbelly had been with her. If she had been even just standing a few pawsteps away -- it would have sufficed to make the meal less boring.

Amberspots felt some sort of headache blow up in her head, accompanied by the desire to cry and curl up in a ball for a few patrol-worths of time. She couldn't, of course, and to even imply the opposite was absurd, but -- all the same, she still wanted to grieve. Even if, well, a good friend wouldn't grieve for this, would they not? They would adapt, and be happy for their friend… “I know I told Ravenwhisker that I liked her, but…. that was just me being a stupid young kit. I wasn't -- I couldn't know what love actually was. I couldn't know how powerful and all-encompassing it would be…”

She realized she had forgotten her meal and was staring broodingly over the horizon. “I must look very rude right now. I hope Coldstar didn't see that…” Nervously, she turned her head towards the nursery, to see that Coldstar, although she had not moved an inch, seemed to be lost in thought rather than fascinated with her morningtime meal. Which was very normal, as it was considered impolite and rather embarrassing for cats to focus on whatever food someone else was having. Amberspots strangely didn't feel relieved at this notion, but nodded to herself in acknowledgement, as though she wanted to know where it would lead. As she caught sight of where her thoughts were leading to, she bristled: “Seriously? No, this is not love. That would be unacceptable. I am still in love with Brownsta -- Brownbelly, how -- how could I even mix these two names up? I meant -- I literally just gave up on… on having a future with Brownbelly, the last thing that would be good right now would be a ridiculous replacement romance. I mean -- seriously, I have to grieve first, and…”

She stopped herself as she mentioned "grief". It felt wrong to call it that. She knew grief -- and she still knew it even more as she thought back to it. She never forgot the pinching smell of herbs on Twilightpaw’s rattled body. Nor the overwhelming craze for anything that might make your day even a little bit better. The wave of sorrow that washed over you when you even walked outside your nest. The fear of even saying the word, of making them die a second time, as though it wasn’t final yet, as though you didn’t want to wrap your head around it, and rather wanted to wrap yourself around them to keep their smell longer. Grief was not for romance. Grief was for cats who got killed and didn't come back, she’d thought -- grief was for funerals and memories of a battled-down corpse, or of an herb-scented caricature of your mother that was supposed to look like she was asleep -- but it could never fool any cat, especially you, because in life she’d never looked so… still.

Then she heard pawsteps coming closer, and as she looked aside to see who it was, she came face-to-face with Coldstar's warm orange eyes, and in shock she stood there petrified. First came the thought that she was overly pretty and it was almost ridiculous, and then appeared the horror of having nothing to say to her. “Do something!” she growled internally. “Don't just stand there with your mouth open -- this is the leader! Look alive!”

"W-weh-wouldn’t you like someee fresh-kill?" Amberspots asked instinctively, too fast for her mouth to catch up, and the sentences stumbled out like a bunch of frantic rabbits.

She winced at her lack of tact immediately afterwards. She knew she had promised herself to never be ashamed of something so superficial and subliminal as tact -- why should she be ashamed or brood over something that was nothing more than a convention? Messing up words didn't hold any real weight, not did it mean anything about her character -- it was just about adaptation to society. She didn't feel very inclined to adapt to how cats were supposed to engage conversation -- because why did it matter? It was way more interesting to say whatever came to mind. “If every cat simply said what they meant, conversations would be way more refreshing,” Amberspots thought to herself. But even with all her best effort, somehow, it seemed that she has begun to care. Sometime between apprenticeship and warrior duties, she had apparently grown more aware about how she approached cats. Bummer.

She wondered briefly if the fact that she never had cared before about how she appeared to other cats meant she did not care for them, and felt worried for a little while. But then, Coldstar blinked, and she was brought back to the present.

"I mean -- maybe. I, uh, had something to do in the nursery," Coldstar stuttered. "Maybe I'll come back later. Yeh-your offer is very kind," she added warmly.

Amberspots purred, feeling herself be lost in the affectionate eyes of her leader. Coldstar had always had a knack for making cats feel at ease. She simply seemed so charming… then Amberspots remembered that she didn't want anything to do with romance until she had gotten over Brownbelly, and she swallowed those feelings down her stomach like a big bite of shrew.

"Well, yeah! I, uh, maybe later? Maybe we can, uh -- eat. Uh."

Amberspots grimaced at the awkwardness of her speech. That wasn't even a sentence. She thought she should make fun of herself, but then admitted that it was a pretty rude joke to make, because it would make cats who always struggled with speech very uncomfortable, and so she decided to swallow another bite to pretend that this sentence was a good one. “Well, I've done it again. "Pretend this sentence is a good one" -- I know my humour revolves around making crude statements about my "faults", but that's just rude.”

"Of course!" Coldstar purred distractedly, her gaze settled on the warriors' nest. "Well, I must be going, now. I'll see you on patrol, my friend."

She went a few pawsteps closer to the den, then stopped abruptly, looking confused. Amberspots was looking at her, even though she convinced herself there was a very good and logical reason why. Which there wasn't. She was just looking at Coldstar because she liked to, but don't ask her about that.

"Well, that's not the nursery," Coldstar muttered to herself. "I suppose I should go the other way."

For some reason, Amberspots had half a mind to add something along the lines of: "Well, that's good -- it's an extra adventure for you", but something felt stupid about saying that out loud. Perhaps it was the fact that she had somehow imagined the sentence with a tom's voice.

Then suddenly, something clicked and she just knew how to react.

"Coldstar -- are you okay? Do you want to stay and eat something?" Amberspots asked with a badly repressed purr. "C'mere, it's fresh."

She felt her voice was mocking, but she thought it was the farthest away from that. Somehow, seeing Coldstar acting aloof seemed reassuring. She was just like Amberspots. It felt so alike that she couldn't help but feel some sort of pull towards the older warrior, something telling her to stay close and never let go. How often had Amberspots hesitated like this between two chores, unable to choose, overcome by anxiety?

She looked up expectantly at her leader, feeling her face brighten up, and Coldstar let our a purr. She padded towards Amberspots -- and the amber cat couldn't help but notice how her paws were grayer, as though she was meant to roam around with paws in the dust. It was somehow very attractive -- wait, she wasn't supposed to think that, was she? She decided to pretend it made her think of food instead, and looked back down at her meal.

"You can have first bite," Amberspots meowed quietly.

“I'm ruining everything. Why am I such a mouse-brain? And -- to think that those worries are so small. I never thought those to be the worst thing possible until a few moons ago. I change so much -- and in such a bad way. I'm an airhead. I keep thinking I'm so smart, but nothing I say is actually --”

"Is something troubling you, dear?" Coldstar meowed suddenly. "You seem tense."

"Yeah, but -- it's no big deal," Amberspots minimized. "How are you feeling? That has to be more important."

Coldstar didn't answer right away and bit into the fresh-kill first.

"Oh, my troubles are quite superficial, don't worry. I'm much more interested in knowing what makes you so sad."

Amberspots shrugged. She thought about declining her offer -- since when was the leader of all cats the right person to talk about her worries about? But then, she told herself that she really did need to talk. And before she knew it, she was blurting out everything.

"I just feel like nothing I do works. I don't know what to do. My best friend has kits and a mate, and -- I know she won't have a place for me anymore. And -- I know it isn't bad, and I should get over it. But -- it's so tiring to keep pretending all the time. I just… I wish I could tell cats what I feel without fearing their anger, or risking their disrespect. I just.. I'm tired of feeling like I have to hide myself and my feelings."

She took a second to catch her breath, and also to stabilize herself. “I said I was telling her everything -- I can't stop halfway. So what if it sounds ridiculous? I have to tell someone!”

"And -- and it's just too much to always think about how cats didn't use to like me because I talked too much, or -- I didn't earn their respect. I wish I could just fight someone strong enough so that they cheer for me, for once. But… I know it's childish, and it's never going to happen."

Then she bowed her head and waited for the inevitable criticism. She had been talking too much -- worse, she had been talking nonsense. There was no place in ThunderClan for those who talked nonsense -- only for those who always had the best and brightest ideas and tactics. Those who always were able to control what they thought about. She was just a pathetic excuse of a warrior, with her stupid thought process that she wasn't even able to control most of the times. She was like a kit.

“I mean -- good for you guys, I would love to be in charge of my logic, too! That's just too bad I can't control it. Why do cats have to have so little respect for those who can't make elaborate sentences like them? Or big strands of logic?” Anger burned through her like a snowstorm, cold and electric, and for a second, she felt her hair rise up. But she decided to let go of it at once. It wasn't right to be mad at cats and insult them about something they had never known about, was it? And she was sure her mentor -- or her mother -- would tell her that she was being absurd, and too passionnate. She was being scary, and hurtful, and disrespectful, was she not? She should be quiet.

Coldstar nodded and took a bite out of their meal. She seemed relaxed, and for a second, it was like they were two friends sharing secrets, and not the leader and her most reckless warrior having an unprofessional conversation together.

"Oh, dear, that sounds horrible a thing to experience."

Amberspots felt her pelt grow warm. This was… really nice to hear.

"Thanks!" Amberspots meowed back.

Chapter 25: New Beginnings

Well, it’s not the first time I’ve been out for a long time, and it won’t be the last. StarClan will get these bones full of moss and stardust, Amberspots thought. This cat won’t stop running off in her dreams. I’m sure some part of my soul will retain that quality and my spirit-form will never stop running.

She stretched. Always the first thing she did. It wasn’t as final as it sounded. she just liked to make sure everything was in order before she woke up properly and made her rounds. Usually, Ravenwhisker was right next to her, making sure her fur was warm enough, getting off her ticks, or managing to give her food and water somehow. She never did manage to learn how he did that. Giving a cat food while they were asleep…

“How do you do it?” Amberspots asked away.

It was dark inside the den, but she managed to see the faint outline of her brother’s mismatched fur crawling in the darkness. Moonlight made him look ghostlike, ethereal, almost like a cat of ShadowClan from the tales Mother would tell them when they were young. She almost got scared for a while when she saw his eyes, dark and gloomy, but it was her brother, after all. So she gave him her best impression of a cheerful attittude.

“What?” Ravenwhisker muttered.

She got scared, thinking he was angry at her for one reason or another, but she then realized he sounded sleepy more than anything.

“The -- the herb stash?” her brother let out as he stumbled next to her.

He sat down with a definitive puff. She turned over to groom him. Habits died hard, and his fur was all dusty. Where had he even been? It was leaf-bare! Where would he find dust? Had he been to the training grounds? Unless… the herb stash? how long had he been there?

“Have you -”
“Stop, I don’t want you to die, okay?” Ravenwhisker choked out. “It’s only natural I do whatever I can for you,” he added.

Amberspots stared dumbly. Oh. He really had been there that long. What for? was he a mouse-brain? Because she was “dying”? Why was he mouse-brained all of a sudden?

“I’m not dying, you big oaf,” she let out flatly.
“Shut up,” Ravenwhisker snapped back. “You know it could happen. I’m nervous, okay? It’s been moons and you’ve been talking to nobody, you haven’t even gotten out of my den. I mean, you’ve gotten out once. Maybe twice? I just -- I have nothing to give you! No herbs, nothing. I’m not… being a proper medicine cat right now.”

He sighed and rubbed his chest soothingly. Amberspots fidgeted against her will as she digested his words.

“This is just new to me. Losing a family member and all. It’s happened with Mum, I know, I just --”
“Quit it, I’m not dying!” Amberspots snarled. “What’s wrong with you? You’re freaking me out!”

The old warrior forced her fur to stand down. this wasn’t the time to fight.

“I mean, I know we’re old, but we’re not THAT old yet. There’s no need to get in my fur yet,” she rasped.

Ravenwhisker growled in annoyance.

“Oh, come on, you’re not well, you know that,” he started.
“I’m not DYING,” she interrupted.
“Stop,” her brother exploded. “Let me talk! Amberspots, please!”

The elder rolled her eyes. reluctantly, she resigned herself to the inevitability of a stern talk, and nodded. He was almost a mother sometimes.

“You’re just -- I love you, okay? You’re my sister. If anything happened to you -- and I know it’s not the sort of thing we talk about normally. even though I’m a medicine cat and we SHOULD. But I’m not Mum and I won’t -- you know, I’m not… not that I won’t care, I just… you know. It’s hard to know how to care for you without being too protective. I sound like -- ew, no. You know what I mean! I just… what do i do? i’m supposed to take care of you. You’re my sister -- and my patient. What do I even do?”

He settled next to her a little better. His eyes were hopeful now. amberspots herself just felt confused.

“I mean, come on. We’re siblings. we’re -- come on. How am I supposed to not take care of you sometimes? We played Mouse together. You’re my only sister,” Ravenwhisker admitted. “I’m just not supposed to care?”
“My back hurts, and also, why are you crying?” Amberspots said in a bad attempt at making the air less heavy around them. “Come on, I know we’re siblings. What’s the problem all of a sudden?”
“I -- ugh. I’ll get you something. But we’re going to finish this talk,” he warned, turning his back fast.
“Don’t turn so fast, your back will break!” Amberspots called with a hint of humour.
“Shut up!” he called back.

He was strangely angry today. Had she missed a… and suddenly she felt anxious. was the camp on fire or something? she knew it probably wasn’t (StarClan was merciful these days) but she still shook from heads to heels when she looked up to check. THe air smelled nice. she almost would have preferred it held smoke, though, because it would have explained Ravenwhisker’s weird outburst.

He’d come back soon. She almost wanted to go away and escape the conversation. She shouldn’t, of course. A fire was almost worth it. Well, not really. But it would be a nice change of pace, at least. She’d know what to expect.

And my mentor thought I’d get wiser with age! the old molly laughed internally. I’m as excited as a newborn badger.

The memory of Briarspark made her feel safe. It was a first. At least, a first these days. I’m sure Briarspark didn’t have nearly as much trouble as I did becoming an elder, Amberspots thought half-bitterly. At least it paves the way for other elders to come after me. If that even means anything. How can you even pave the way for that? I’ll probably be dead by the time someone else is of age… The reality hit her like a pile of fresh-kill. Suddenly she felt heavy, as though the world had turned upside-down and the weight of the earth was pressed upon her fragile back.

And of course Ravenwhisker wouldbring her soothing herbs right then and there to fit her metaphorical need of them. Even metaphorically, he was a medicine cat through and through. It was nice that he could help her, but she felt bad accepting his help. She didn’t want to overwork him. He WAS the medicine cat, but he was also, and foremost, her brother, and she didn’t want to be a burden on him. siblings should fight one another, or argue, or play, or whatever, not help each other pee or something. It felt unnatural. But the idea of losing Ravewhisker as an anchor to her life felt just as dizzying, if not more, so she let it go.

“I hate being an elder,” Amberspots muttered. “It’s just so annoying. Everyone cares for me and I can’t care back. I wish something happened and the roles were reversed. I’d feel better.”
“Don’t be like that,” Ravenwhisker chided between mouthfuls of poultice. “Cats care about you because you cared about them. It’s their way of paying back everything you did.”
“Eh. if they cared they’d bring me something to do,” Amberspots rasped.

She realized she sounded like a grumpy elder, before telling herself it was probably incredibly unfair to elders, and finally admitting that she was exactly that. A grumpy elder. A cat tired of being helped.

“Not that it’s not nice and all to have all those youngsters giving me fresh-kill and taking off ticks,” the old warrior shrugged hopelessly. “I just wish i had something else to do for once. I hope I’m not being selfish. I know they care, but sometimes, it just feels like the world has stopped moving.”
“Oh, now, now --”
“I know, I sound like Stoneburrow when he caught a cold,” Amberspots cut him. “Always complaining about cats being all up his muzzle, and wanting some peace. I don’t mean to -- I’m probably ungrateful. Point is, I can’t blame him for wanting a change of pace for once.”
“Complaining about cats caring about you?” Ravenwhisker purred sarcastically.
“Shut up, medicine cat. I know, you don’t get sick days. you don’t have an apprentice. I know, I’m sorry. I’m mouse-brained.”

Ravenwhisker shrugged. It was an old topic that didn’t really need rehearsing.

“You warriors think the world revolves around you. There’s so many different cats around that you could just meet if you looked beyond your nose.”

Amberspots was nodding off, but she still managed to argue.

“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Stop complaining and look around,” Ravenwhisker explained.
“For what? Different cats? Ignore my problems because other cats have different problems?”
“No, just -- I don’t know. Maybe start caring about other cats. Maybe they need your help, too.”
“They can just ask instead of being so pointy about it,” Amberspots groaned. “And seriously, what can I even -- fine, fine. I see your point. You need help, too. right?”
“Oh, of course now you listen.”
“Come on.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just hard to really let myself go when it feels like nobody cares.”

Ravenwhisker fidgeted.

“I mean, you’re the --”
“-- medicine cat. Doesn’t stop them. I just -- I see you with tons of cats around you and I can’t help but think, what if that was me? What if I deserved it? Is this something I can get? and -- I mean. I just… envy you. Wish I were you sometimes.”

Amberspots swallowed a feeling of frustration.

“I know, it’s not your problem. I mean, at the end of the day, it’s nobody’s problem, really. There’s nothing to do at all. Unless I get promoted or something and someone takes on my duties or something. Bluefeather looked like a good apprentice for a while. Wow, I didn’t enlist her just to cure me like some miracle. No, I, you know, duties. and she was talented. A talented young cat she was. Still is. Even at hunting. Kind of like a daughter, if you ask me. And now she’s not here anymore.”
“We have the same problems,” Amberspots noted in a whisper.
“Do we? then why do you get all the attention and I can’t even get someone to help me with my joints?” Ravenwhisker exploded. “I just wish someone was there for me, that’s all. With all that’s happened with you, it’s hard to remember, but I’m still here, too, and I still have things to do for myself. It’s not your fault, of course. I mean… Whatever.”
“Bro, come on --”
“Meh!”

The old tom walked along the walls of his den once, then he went to sit back down less briskly. His mew was apologectic.

“Sorry. This conversation -- just two old cats talking about problems bigger than both of them. Arguing about problems of the Clans. We’re small. This isn’t worth fighting for. I can’t explain properly, I just… ugh.”

He looked away for a while, thoughtful, wrinkled. So old and wise and sad at the same time. It was almost beautiful, in a strange way. It fit her brother. He’d been a… stars, how strange it was to think back to his youth. She still remembered. she remembered his first day as a medicine cat. He used to be young and energetic. She remembered how he joked around with the younger kits to make them less scared, since he knew how prestigious his title was, and how he hated to see kits upset. He used to act aloof and stupid. He’d sit around and watch with his big yellow eyes how things went around camp, and he’d say little but jokes. It was right after his mentor died. He’d used humour to cope. He’d lost that with time, nicely so. It hadn’t been natural. But occasionally, he’d joke again. Or when he was particularly well-fed, he’d have a glint in his eye. and he looked truly happy. He had earlier that year. Right at the end of leaf-fall. During that meal with Tigerstorm. Maybe leaf-fall was a good time for him. Or maybe he’d liked seeing Bluefeather get her warrior assessment.

But his more nostalgic self, that was who she was used to. He’d been this way during their youth. They both had, in a way, but where she spent her pent-up energy in runs and climbing, he’d sort of spent sitting around, couting herbs, looking at cats passing by. There was something wrong with them. Both of them, probably. And they’d been so young!

She wasn’t even thinking about him only. She’d said “them”. Maybe she just couldn’t care for someone else besides herself. It was a shame. But she’d talk with Coldstar, and figure something out for Ravenwhisker’s health problems, and his tasks, and friends, and maybe arrange a friendly hunt or two. She’d almost said patrol before she remembered patrols aren’t a medicine cat’s duty. He probably wouldn’t like them. She felt horrible for forgetting their respective duties, then focused back on the task. He hadn’t been hunting or herb-gathering in a while. It always did Amberspots good to get out of camp for a while, even just to go eat away in a nice little spot with moss and all. Listen to bugs on a hot day. Always boosted her mood. But this was Ravenwhisker and not her. He’d always been the quiet kind. But maybe he’d like that idea, too. Maybe he’d like some food? That was a start?

“Come on,” Amberspots said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Sparrow?” he inquired, his eyes gleaming,

Ravenwhisker loved food. Bingo. Lots of it, to make up for all the lost time. Then a cough startled her, and she remembered her own problems. Her low energy, her pains. She didn’t know if she was ready to care for another cat’s needs yet. Maybe she ought to asl Coldstar how she’d figured it out. Or -- not Ravenwhisker, he needed to relax. Ugh.

“Yeah. Two if you want. Maybe even a mouse.”

Her brother purred happily. She knew by how he stared at her analytically that he was well-aware of her state, but she puffed her chest angrily. She wasn’t letting him treat her this time. He’d just said he was tired of that! But something kept him from looking too relieved anyways.

“Sounds good. Let’s go! But, I know… I know you can’t keep this up, but… thanks.”

Amberspots decided to be honest. She really couldn’t. No use in lying. It felt like she was missing a fundamental part of herself there, and maybe it was how old queens felt when they weren’t able to nurse all their kits. It felt like you were lacking your duties, and it felt wrong. You ought to be able to help them, to care, to nurse. Were you just lazy? And this was how Ravenwhisker probably felt, asking like that for help that never came. Did she make him feel like this? No, this wasn’t the time for her own worries.

“I’m sorry I can’t. I can try to be less --”
“Don’t even think about lacking your treatment. Stop being so worried, Amberspots. You know it gets your lungs all messy when you start worrying like that. I don’t want to have to see you lying on the floor in sweat again. Okay?”
“Come on, I --”
“No, don’t miss even one of them. I told you, I’m fine. I just want someone to care, and that doesn’t happen overnight. I know you’re trying, but… This doesn’t just happen. It just -- besides, you’re my sister. I ought to teach you a thing or two about lying.”
“I know it matters, but--”
“No, okay? Come on. Let’s go.”

He got up and offered his shoulder, but she shrugged him off. He weighted down on her anyways.

“No, come on. This isn’t the way to make it right. Let me--”
“Come on, bro. Stop being such a mouse-”
“No, I’m not-- I’m not a mouse-brain, okay? I’m just as old as you, and I need some treatment, and you need treatment too. An we’ll both get it. seriously, stop being like that, it’s freaking me out. You’re besides yourself… And I don’t mean to sound like Mum, but… C’mon, please. Let me have some agency for a change, okay?”

He paused, and his eyes went round for a moment. Then he turned to Amberspots and ruffled her fur with his paw affectionnately.

“M’sorry. This came out of nowhere. I guess I still have some old ticks to groom yet. Even in my old age, I can’t be perfect,” he joked. “C’mon, let’s get something to eat. I’d race you to the fresh-kill pile, but…”
“We can’t all be warriors,” Amberspots swallowed sadly. “Or young cats. Oh well. I’m sure you still have something left in these old bones. C’mon!”

And she sprinted off in the distance like she was a young molly again. She could see Ravenwhisker’s pelt dimly in the snow, and in a flash of excitement she called out to him.

“Come on! Show me what’s left in those old bones!”
“There’s plenty left,” he muttered. “You’re mouse!”

By some reflex left from her younger days, she managed to dodge his outstretched paw in time.

“Stars, you’re still -- woah!” she panted as another paw was sent her way. Her warrior instincts kicked in and she made a move like she was about to shove his leg to the ground and she had to think for a second about how breaking her brother’s hind leg wasn’t such a clever idea, at all. She decided to just squish him on the ground, like when they were kits. They both laughed and struggled on the ground for a while before Ravenwhisker hung up his paw in retreat. He looked like a poor little bunny all squished as he was.

“Your fur smells weird,” he commented as he huffed to push off a curl from her bushy tail.

Amberspots purred in satisfaction as she watched him struggle to get out of her massive coat of red fur, and judging by his groans, he was stuck.

“Say I win,” she demanded with an unstoppable urge to laugh.
“Fine, you win,” he purred. “But we’re not young cats anymore, you haven’t seen the best I can do!”
“Sure, sure. Let me get off your fur for you.”
“You’re a dumb warrior,” he muttered teasingly.
“You’re a plant-head,” she answered, swatting his ear.
“Shut up,” he protested. “Hey, we have food to get to.”
“You shut up.”

The both of them dusted their long coats off and prepared to get going again. Amberspots fet a little kit-ish, but she thought that it wasn’t a proper insult. She was having fun, and that’s what mattered, right? Playing mouse with her brother like old times.

“Let me help you there,” Ravenwhisker soothed with a caring glint in his eye. “You’ll sprain something.”
“Pfah,” the molly spat back. “I’ll let you know, I -- yeah, I’ll probably sprain an ankle. Help me get up,” she ordered.
“Yeah, don’t ignore the orders of the great plant-head.”
“Don’t -- uff.”

She scrambled for breath. Dart those crispy lungs of hers. She could barely say anything after a run. Where had her endurance gone to? Probably the same place all digested food goes to, she thought morosively, but somehow the idea sparked her interest.

“Hey, maybe there’s a StarClan for fresh-kill.”

Ravenwhisker had to wait until he was done with shouldering her weight properly before he could talk again. At least his breath doesn’t wheeze, she thought. She remembered she ought to be jealous, and almost forced herself to, before she told herself it really didn’t matter. she was just happy he could spend these moons free of any lung-damage. It was just nice to see him breathe normally. At least one of us, Amberspots thought. It came out grimly, and she shuddered. No time for that right now.

“I mean… prey goes to StarClan, I mean, our StarClan -- because they hunt there. So… is it the real spirits of the mice? Or is it copies of them? Not that I’d be able to say if I saw,” the old medicine cat scrambled to add, with a few self-conscious licks to the chest for good measure. “I mean, StarClan is a very mysterious place. Who knows what goes on there? Cats can’t go, it’s so far away, and it’s so strange what goes on there… How would I even be able to tell if I’d been there? Which I haven’t. Or -- yes, I’ve gone there, not that I’d be able to tell, but see, it’s all part of the secret of being a medicine cat and all. Yes.”
“Have you never been there, O medicine cat of mine?” Amberspots rasped, confused.
“It’s my secret!” he hushed protectively like a kit warped around its first piece of meat. “Not telling! I mean, sure, I’d be able to tell if you went there, and I mean, it wouldn’t be the same as seeing you here, which would mean I could let you in on the secrets but that’s impossible since you’re here, and alive, and I mean, you’re so old, but that’s absolutely horrible to say and I regret to inform you that I can’t really talk about this with the medicine cats code and all. So no, sorry, I can’t say. No. Not really.”

Amberspots coughed in laughter. Then she pressed against him, trying to find a way to convey friendship. She really loved him, quite a lot. If only she ever knew how to show it. Their previous converation echoed in her mind, and she became quite afraid that she never knew how to show appreciation before. After a quick self-check, she determined the problem.

“Hey, let’s get some food down in our systems,” she told him.
“Well, yeah!” Ravenwhisker answered nervously. “Of course! that’s what we were doing, what’s -- did I do something wrong? Did something happen? I know you don’t like worrying, but --”
“What?”
“I know, I know, okay, I’ll --”
“No, if something’s wrong -- I mean, I don’t like seeing you in pain and I can’t do anything to fix it.”
“So you won’t even -- nah. Let’s just, this isn’t important. Let’s not fight like a couple of adders on this. We’re too old for this. I’m getting ticks just by thinking about it.”

He bumped into her good shoulder teasingly, and she nodded a little mossily. It felt strangely empty to be saying this, but it was true. She still felt like explaining, but she decided to shut up. She thought instead that she was way too direct when saying “I disagree” and it sounded like throwing a rock at something rather than making a more vague point. It felt like a direct attack when she disagreed. She’d scared him!

And they were old cats. Somehow, the thought that they weren’t youngsters ready to fight and bicker and bite all day made her feel a little warmer. Like everything was fine in their family. And it would be fine, they would always be together no matter how much they bickered. And joke, and be merry. Unless she took a toll on him like she usually did. She hadn’t been the best sister, and she’d always been too focused on her own problems for that.

She wondered if being a medicine cat was the reason he laid a helping paw to her own worries. that somehow made the old molly feel a little better. If neither of them had been predisposed to caring and helping about the other’s problems, it made today a little bit less horrible. It wasn’t as empty and lacking. Well, it probably was. But… it made it a little less like a battelfield, and more like an empty fight between kin. Stars, it was true what Ravenwhisker said, she really didn’t like worrying.

“Hey, you ever thought how Mum gave us both pelt-colors as names? I mean, I’ve been calling myself ginger for a while, and you black, but -- hey, how do you call your pelt-color?”
“Dark gray, but I like ginger,” he answered pensively. “Always dreamed I could call myself ginger. Doesn’t happen though. I thought Mum did that because she saw stars in our names and she thought, I don’t know, of a starry place in StarClan with white light and shimmering water and she saw herslef there, or Father, and she talked with him, and… Anyways, it’s…”

He blinked heavily, as though it would make him less obviously sad, but it didn’t work, and soon enough he was letting out a sigh.

“I miss her. Both of our parents. Yeah, I remember Father, i used to hang out with him back in the day. I -- yeah, I hung out with Father. He was the one who convinced me to take on medicine duties. It -- I remember. We took all sorts of things to the other Clans, and ourselves, and we just -- we would talk. I remember what he looked like, maybe not you, you were pretty bed-ridden those days. But I kind of got up, half out of my adventurous, kitlike wish to see herbs, half because Dad made me, and I saw him everyday. He was like the leader of the Clan, he was so cool and strong, whenever I got out of our shelter he stood there all tall and purred at me. He was my hero, he was always out before me and he wasn’t even shivering, he didn’t even look cold. Anyways, he was handsome, you know? I mean, if you knew him. He looked brave and strong, and he had this dark silver pelt that looked almost out of RiverClan, but he was cooler than that. I remember his shoulders, they were wide and pale and he glinted in the sun. I could barely see anything at all, my eyes hurt, it was pale yellow all over but he was there, talking to me. He still had moss and branches and stuff in his mouth so I had to hurry if I wanted to make up what he was saying. I dunno, back then I had the fear that noises wouldn’t mean the same thing to other cats as it did to me, so I always checked out of fear that I might be making up what cats said and all. So anyways, I always scrambled up to them to see what they meant, and what they saw. And he always talked about those great things. I called them warrior things, because they made me think of great trees and plains and all that stuff. It always made me refer back to him, too. Like he was a giant walking up those old plains. It was pretty cool.”

He laughed as they walked along. Camp seemed quiet, but it was probably just out of how Amberspots listened to every word and didn’t want to lose a sound of it. She didn’t dare lose focus for one second.

“I dunno, I was a pretty weird kit. But Dad, oh wow. Dad was so cool. It was always fun to hang out with him, you know? Still can’t believe… Oh, fresh-kill’s right here. Shall we? I need to… breathe a little bit. Walk with me? I have to make up what I was saying. Digest it. Heh. Eventually, I realized I just needed time to process things, and that’s what I called “lying”, you know? I became so caught-up in the process of making an opinion that I forgot how those things are called, and it became my own secret worry. Anyways, i don’t like talking about this. i mean, i worry you don’t want to listen, and in the meantime I just like to pretend it’s great that I have my own secret thoughts to listen to when I’m bored. It makes it less upsetting or stressful. Anyways! It’s time for food, right? I said I’d treat you.”
“No, you didn’t -- I did!” Amberspots shot back immediately, as she felt the same pulse she’d felt when she was a young apprentice taking pride in her duties. “Let me treat you.”

When it’s my job, it’s sacred I have to finish it and report back, she’d thought so many times. It’s my job and no-one else’s… well, sometimes I did wish someone else had taken on my task, but… that’s not really important.

“But what did you want to say? I wanted to -- I mean, you know. You were saying something, and having fun. Don’t let -- ugh. I’m saying it all wrong, you know, don’t stop now and all!”
“It’s strange how our culture doesn’t change. I mean, I’ve seen Twolegs get pretty different since I’ve been born, but here, I mean, trees got snowier and stuff. But what I’m saying is that you and I, we’ve still been together since the moment we were born. And that’s so magical and important and -- that’s also unrelated to what I was saying first, right? About the trees and the beaver-like fur and… ugh. let me collect my thoughts for a bit. Yeah. Well, I don’t know what I meant at all, it’s vanished. I used to think I was losing my memory, to give you an idea. But anyways, since we’re talking and all, the reason I wanted to stop talking is that it takes me a while to collect my thoughts and I guess I just got used to people not listening after a while. Did Bluefeather do that? Did she listen? Oh, I don’t know. I was pretty old back then, too. She didn’t listen to much of what I was saying, if it gives you an idea.”

Amberspots lost herself in the conceptions of old and young cats in their Clan and didn’t really ask anything more. She wasn’t listening to my brother because he was old? What? That can’t be fair. I’ll have to ask. This just can’t be true. It sucks. Okay, so obviously he’s saying the truth here. I just… escape mechanism of doubting the reality when you feel horrible about something. Grief process or something. Heh. Anyways, it’s time for food now. Let’s go, yes?

He’s right. It’s exhausting to listen when you’re expecting yourself to be cut off from the conversation, Amberspots thought sadly. It’s something that doesn’t go away. Well, I’m must glad we have each other. No matter what happened with the rest of the family. That doesn’t go away, either.

Chapter 26: Everything was Wrong, Then it was Not

Summary:

Gathering night with Amberspots and Coldstar! First-ish time as deputy, too. What can go wrong?

“Have you ever looked at Nightblossom? She’s absolutely dreamy. It’s a shame she’s in another Clan, really. I’d love to get to know her better. Look at that fur… dark ginger and grey and black. She looks like poppies mixed with sand in the most delightful way.”
“Didn’t tell me you had the soul of a storyteller,” Coldstar mewed with a friendly nudge.

Amberspots looked back at her friend and laughed. Something in her eyes felt safe, and fuzzy. It was weird how there was a little ache in her eyes as they talked, but when she looked at Coldstar she felt safe. None of that chaos from being in Fourtrees as leader and deputy for the first time. Just safe. Coziness. Like a warm fire. Amberspots felt like sharing her deepest secrets. THe feeling was overhwleming. The red warrior didn’t want to acknowledge it. She’d learned that intense emoptions often came with mind-bending fear that twisted into knots of impossible reactions and accidents. Everytime she felt too much, it was as though everything bended, even reality, and she felt like the tiniest misshap could break the Clans. Here, for example, it was as though a massive branch would come and smash everyone, and StarClan themselves would sdisown her, and… here she went, feeling all sad, when Briarspark had taught her about this already. She ought to be a brave warrior and be strong for the Clan, right? Even if it sucked. Coldstar would agree, right? “Is it bad I trust her more than my own mentor? Ex-mentor, but still. I could tell her anything. Is that weird of me?” Here she was, too trusting again -- last time she did that, she could never hear the end of it. She still had sand all up in her earlobes. “I’m never trusting Fireberry again, that’s for sure. Who would think it’s funny to get me on private training and then push me off a slope of sand? Not me, for sure. Ugh… and I thought she meant a date, too. Oh well. I’m a complete mouse-brain. Stars, I wish that never happened. Can she even look at me without laughing? Can I? Ugh. This warrior thing turned out pretty crappily in the end, didn’t it? I don’t even feel good. Just crappy. Here I was thinking warriorhood meant happiness. It doesn’t inherently. Nothing does in the end.”

Time to stop that train of thought with some wonderful gossip.

“But did you spot any interesting toms here, too? I hear Fireblaze is quite a catch with his lean body and pale fur. And he’s got those piercing eyes, too.”

It felt so wrong to talk like that. To an older molly like her, Fireblaze was just a tiny kit almost yesterday, and here he was -- an adult, a deputy. And cats kept talking about how surreal his fur looked, like pale fire, ice-cold blaze. He did look quite ethereal, but he wasn’t quite her style. Personally, she admired how he looked, but not like that. It was nice to have a word other than broken for why she didn’t care much, so there was that, at least. But she admitted that a female counterpart to him would be quite the catch. But hey, who cares, she thought. You can’t choose a mate based on their pelt.

“I’m not… interested in that,” Coldstar admitted.
“I know, you only like me,” Amberspots joked. “But who can blame you? I’m amazing,” she added boastfully, pushing her shoulder like she did so often with Brownbelly. “But we have to think of you, too. Imagine a litter of small kits. Right?”
“I’d say it would be more peaceful to choose a mate based on their capacities as a cat rather than on the possibility of having a litter,” Coldstar mused. “But that sounds incredibly presumptuous. I mean, I don’t know. I just don’t like imagining that someone would leave me because I can’t have kits, you know? I mean, it’s never happened. I just don’t like the thought, it puts so much pressure on you. I’m sorry, I’m quite in a bad mood tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Oh no, what happened?” Amberspots cooed.
“I don’t mean to alarm you, but, well, someone I liked hasn’t really… well, giving positive signals lately.”
“You -- oh. That’s quite a shame.”
“Well, I suppose it is. But I don’t like giving into that bitterness. It feels so surreal. Like I can’t climb out of that hole now. It would only ruin my friendship with -- what I mean is -- I -- don’t think it would be right to talk about my feelings now, in case things turn bad. This was so badly phrased. I simply don’t like to dwell on it too much. I hate to be angry. And hgold things over others. It simply feels wrong when you have such an upper paw on these things. Like you could blow over and leave everyone right away. It’s wrong. I prefer to be more stable.”

She croaked.

“This all must sound ridiculous. I’m always angry.”
“No more than I am,” Amberspots wallowed. “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen anger. I’d scare a squirrel on a greenleaf day. That’s -- you know. I’m a danger to be around.”
“I happen to like danger,” Coldstar meowed. “Not that danger is -- what I mean is, I like -- and you’re less explosive than you give yourself credit for. I find it hard to think back to a second where you’ve been explosive around me at all.”
“Oh. Oh, no, that’s -- probably just not interesting at all. I mean, it’s probably wrong. O stars, nevermind. I can’t seem to talk at all around you today. My tongue is in shambles.”
“Perhaps it’s because we’ve been sitting so close together?”
“Shut up, seriously. I don’t… appreciate flirting.”
“Oh -- oh. Of course. is it because I’m sitting too close?”
“No, you can -- I mean. I’m more of a fresh-kill by the den kind of molly, you know? These situations just make me remember how much I suck at things. And I like taking things slow and maintaining a distance. Oh, remind me how I said i hated to talk about this later, right? right. Wow, I’m going to regret this.”
“It’s the Gathering, not the tonguesharing fest,” croaked someone from down below. “Either you stop your -- oh, who am i kidding, it’s delightful to see young cats getting along. Why don’t you come down and have some mole with me?”

The two mollies squinted to see the shape of Moonpaw, with her flattened face and her dark fur glowing dimly in the pale light. She looked like a ghost. The ghost of a very, very young cat who probably wasn’t even supposed to be here at all. What was she doing here? Coldstar looked at Amberspots in panic, and she nodded. Right, Amberspots invited her, she’d forgotten even when doing it herself. Stars, how old was she again?n She seemed to get weirder and weirder everyay, and this stinked, and also, why was Moonpaw staring?

“Moonpaw! You’re younger than us!” Coldstar shot back. “What are you even doing? Where’s your mother? wasn’t she with you?”
“I thought I’d catch a little wisdom before I went back to Mother,” said Moonpaw before she walked off.

Coldstar shuddered, and Amberspots had half a mind to invite the young cat over. She was funny. she reminded her of Twilightpaw a little bit. Actually, were they sisters? Oh, she couldn’t remember.

“I like her,” Amberspots said.
“She seems brash,” Coldstar murmured. “I get chills all over. I get very sensible about these things. Cover for me?”
“Yeah, what are you -- oh!”

Coldstar buried her face in Amberspots’ flank and stayed there shaking for a while.

“I’m sorry. It’s -- I’ll --”
“No, no, please. It’s quite nice. Can I do it too? Or -- it’s not the time, I’ll --”
“There’s always time to do as you please. Do what you wish for,” Coldstar nodded from her spot on her side.
“What -- okay. I’m -- you’re not mad at the kit, are you?”
“No, I just need to figure something out. This isn’t the first time this hapopens, I get overly angry at something cats say. I hate this. It feels like -- oh, I’m -- it’s so stupidly hard to get over those feelings. What am i made of, mud? i should just swallow them. Or maybe not, maybe I need to let the flow of emotions -- ugh. I’m no good at flowing. Graystar excelled at it. I just get stuck on rocks all the time. I hope I’ll figure something out soon. We’d be better friends then.”
“Is that why you try to make time for the small, soothing things of life?”
“Yes. No, I just get tired of all the rush of life and I try to find a soothing place somewhere else. You understand, do you not? I hope so, it would mean the world to me and why am I still talking. What I mean is that I… try not to get too burdened with my own worries and tasks. Be balanced. I never understood how to do that but Graystar wanted me to do it and now I’m sort of hyperventilating or something except I don’t feel hyperventilated and is it bad if two cats are and I’ll stop talking now except I don’t know how to. Mousedung. Crap. was that too hard a swearword? And this is the time when someone tells me to stop musing, right?”

She blinked hard then looked up from the spot she was making in her deputy’s ginger fur. her eyes were almost yellow in how much she was pleading.

“Don’t tell me to stop talking and get back on task. Oh, please?”
“No, I’ll not do that.”
“Thanks.”
“That was not a sentence and also of course, I’m glad you -- I -- I can’t speak at all.”
“You do get tongue-tied around --”
“No --”
“Nice mollies --”
“Stop, I’m warning you.”

Coldstar started laughing, then she stared back up to see if she’d been too nasty. But Amberspots looked vaguely amused, if not contrite. Was this a real purr or was it some sort of “I’m glad you stopped” purr, or was it the purr you did when your parents were teasing you? Coldstar thought anxiously. It was actually a purr of “Don’t stop, please don’t stop” but she couldn’t know that.

“Sorry,” she admitted. “My parents always said it was okay to mess around with someone as long as it was for a joke. I didn’t admit to myself that I was taking it too far. It is your boundary, after all. I’ll stop. I hope you forgive me.”
“Wow, no, that’s -- no need -- you know what? Thanks for respecting my boundary.”
“Sure thing.”

Coldstar sighed, then her eyes went wide and she scrambled to her feet.

“Is that -- weird -- physical contact? No? Yes? Do you want me to stop?”
“Awe, I liked the -- yeah. No, in truth I liked it a lot but this reminds me too much of something else. Let’s just sort of drop it and forget it ever happened. I don’t have -- is it weird if I make jokes about the thing we just talked about? jokes about someone’s boundaries and pushing the limit of what’s funny to do and what’s slightly rude? is it wrong? Does it make us a liability? are we still a team?”

And suddenly the air grew quieter around Amberspots as she listened intently.

“I -- yeah! I mean, yeah?”
“I mean, cause I’d hate to lose you and it would suck and stars, I stink. I don’t want to put pressure on you. This sucks.”
“We could just -- wash all this off? i mean, this doesn,t have to be weird. cats can do that, right? Brush things off and pretend they never happened.”
“Honestly, I’d like that, but I… I don’t know how it would go. What if we get bitter about it?”
“Then we’ll work on it too.”
“I like it when you get all steady like that.”
“Thanks. I like yyyyyy - it too.”
“You sure you’re not the one who’s getting tongue-tied next to pretty mollies?”
“Oh, you.”
“I mean, you’ve been pretty tongue-tied all evening, it tells me you probably have something for me, right?” Amberspots teased.

Coldstar spuffed in fake indignation as they got off the low-hanging branch of the clearing.

“How dare you, I’m the leader. I don’t eat food. This was supposed to be funny. Why was -- am I funny yet?”
“Well, you’re the leader, so do I get a reward if I say so?”
“Shut up.”
“We’re like kits tonight.”
“Happy kits. I bet I can race you to that tree there.”
“Hey, I’ll --”
“C’mon. Or, right, uh. Duty. Can’t run off, right?”

But she looked so sad that Amberspots figured it was just as good to do it, so she splattered a paw in her face and scrambled off to a branch.

“Mouse!” she screamed.

* * *

And eventually it all came down to a very complicated business of old, tired warriors being miced and starting to paw each other and wonder who wasn’t miced yet, and in the midst of the confusion there was no cat left that hadn’t recieved a paw in the face so it was considered a very successful came indeed. It came down to cats wondering if a fight broke loose, and a general panic before things calmed down. Some deputies like Fireblaze saw everyone joining in the game, and they actually understood the clamour and itched to play but they had to play by the rules and that meant no moving around, and it sucked. But altogether, young cats on their first Gatherings liked to use the experience to get acquainted better. They did get a long, stern talk from other leaders afterwards, but seeing as they actually heard old cats purr for the first time, Amberspots decided it was a win, and she took the blame for the idea. It was altogether pretty exhilirating for the two of them. It was actually pretty amazing to do fun nonsense like that with Coldstar. A bit like she’d done as a kit with her brother, but this was different. this was somehow branched with so much more closeness and warmth.

“And the talks hadn’t even started yet!” Amberspots always noted whenever she finished the tale. “I don’t know what they had against it. Couple of old badgers. Not letting cats have their fun.”
“They said it wasn’t the time, but we begged to differ. It was a fun idea, though,” Coldstar nodded. “Not my call, I only asked to race.”
“Well, you liked the idea afterwards.”
“Of course, love.”
“You two are weird,” rasped Mooneye. “Why can’t you be emotionally open with each other? there’s like a cold current between you two. i can’t read it at all.”

They stared at one another, then shrugged.

“Well, we do know each other pretty well.”
“We don’t need that sort of thing,” Coldstar added.

Yet they still stared silently at each other for a long while before figuring out exactly what that even was supposed to mean. Eventually though, they came to the conclusion that whatever was going on between them was fair enough, and didn’t need any changing.

And Nightblossom became deputy, if you can believe it. Yet -- and Amberspots held that over everyone’s heads for a while in pride -- she liked to play Mouse too. And she HAD played mouse. But nobody thought that was a good argument, and she somewhat agreed, but inside pf her there was a kit who just wanted to play mouse and everyone could somewhat understand, at least. But that was quite selfish of her. isolation never did her well, and she’d known it got to her the moment she started indulging in her dumb sides more. She sounded like a friend she once had. Not that her friend was the problem, but she herself was. She felt so disgustingly self-absorbed. Or maybe she was being stuck-up, and she herself was the problem. Or probably not. Was it wrong for a cat to want to pull their ears out? But that mood was long gone, and today she only purred at the idea. In hindsight, it was pretty funny and also awesome to see grown warriors use all their best moves for a game of mouse. There was something awe-inducing at it. And of course, she thought that as she was now a croaky elder in need of purring for the first time in years like young Amberspots saw in others back then, she would absolutely love a game of mouse. So perhaps it was really the leaders who didn’t understand back then. Also, it sucked to sit with your back straight for a whole night, and maybe they didn’t know elders had lots of difficulty with that. But whatever. Someone was going to teach them. Maybe herself. Or Coldstar. They both were old. Or maybe they would already learn themselves -- they were probably quite ancient. Being old wasn’t some clan. Even if it had its own… yeah, that was strange. But either ways, they probably didn’t need or want any stern lecturing, as they were like old relics in amber.

On to more pleasant thoughts -- one time, I found a bug cast in a rock. It was fun. Mother had told me it was real amber; resin from a tree. I’d been ooing and aaing at it for a very long time, almost half a day, before Mum called me off. I liked it. I think I kept it? Until it washed off, I suppose. Or maybe it’s still by that secret spot near the edge… I ought to go see someday.

Chapter 27: On Denmates and How to deal with Them

It had been a few years since Amberspots had been in a crowded den, and from the looks of it, the elders’ den wouldn’t be lively anytime soon. After the events that had transpired, she’d often traded her hot mess of bedding in the warriors’ den for the comfort of Ravenwhisker’s soft feathery nests, or for the coolness and reassurance of Coldstar’s rocky walls. More often than not, she’d need to spend nights to treat her battle-wounds anyways, or if she wanted to avoid them like she often did, she’d hide in the leader’s den and leave a very irritated medicine cat outside to be shooed away by the scary nature of the imposing walls. She’d slept next to Coldstar for quite a while before she’d longed for Ravenwhisker’s stupid jokes in the morning, so she’d come back to visit. But more often than not, she’d taken to avoid him and his treatments.

She remembered how surprised he often was when she visited. He’d hurriedly offer some ointment as a form of courtesy, as though he were afraid she’d vanish before his very eyes again. She remembered he used to have perfumed water that he’d take from honeycombs and mix with a moss ball, and he’d always try to feed her that before time ran out. Ironically, it was mostly that habit that shooed her away. Amberspots hated treatment. She was always afraid something would rip her fur off or she’d end up with more wounds than she originally had. Admittedly, it was far more easy for the young warrior she’d been to ignore wounds and let them go away on their own, rather than to pay attention to them and get smelly ointments that reminded her of her brother’s stern don’t move.

That, and she always hated the smell of mixed-up herbs and preffered to avoid them altogether.

But that wasn’t very relevant today, except it sort of was. Today, she was going to just go around and stick with the elders a little bit, try to fit in. Maybe see if she had any interesting stories to tell. She’d been avoiding the den for a long time, and perhaps it was time to stop doing that. Of course, it hadn’t been her fault, mostly anyways. She’d been sick and bedridden for almost a moon now. Leaf-fall had become leaf-bare and she still hadn’t talked to Whitewhisker and Molefang at all. In truth, she was mostly afraid of confronting Whitewhisker about what happened during their sharing of the deputy’s duties. Not that something particular had happened, of course. But it had been strange to see it passed around like that, especially with Whitewhisker’s little kittens running around with cries of “Mum, mum, come see this bug I found!” and “Mum, when’s Dad coming back?” and “Crowkit is a warrior and she’s hiding there in RiverClan’s camp, come help me look! We have to be silent!”. Little Crowkit and Mousekit had been her only litter, and oh how she’d adored them. The love of a deputy was strong, and Whitewhisker had loved her kits more than anything in the world. It had been sad to see her give up her duties to care for them, though, and always Amberspots regretted to have taken up her duties while she’d been active enough to run around energetic kits in camp. Of course, she’d been mostly bedridden those days too, but she’d been happy and full of laughter. In truth she was a sight for sore eyes in a general manner, and she envied the kits that could call her Mother. A cat with experience as Clan deputy was truly an excellent authority figure, and she’d been able to raise them with dignity and honour, and bring them forth as excellent warriors and queens. But Amberspots felt that there had always been something missing in the old molly’s life. An excitement, a spark of sorts. Being deputy had been her lifeblood and she’d lost that. And Amberspots felt responsible, because on the battle where she’d lost the use of her leg, Amberspots hadn’t been able to protect her. she always felt like she’d fled instead of help her. Years of talk had told her that it hadn’t been her fault, and she’d never believed them. Because as much as she remembered she’d been interested in finding other warriors to fight, again and again, more and more, Whitewhisker had been fighting for her life and her integrity, and she hadn’t heard the cries. Amberpaw had run off like an excited squirrel wuile her deputy was in pain, and in need of assistance, and she hadn’t been there.

She’d always felt responsible, and had always felt accusing eyes boring in the back of her skull, and she’d never known if Whitewhisker had deemed her responsible, and she’d been scared to ask. She’d tried to do her best as deputy, but it had always been there, a doubt, a crack, scared she could do the wrong thing and fail again. Leave a cat in the hanging mouth of catastrophe while she ran off and did something of her own. With that thought her mouth always ran dry, and her throat became all strange and fuzzy. she’d feel a warmth, a sad, pained warmth. Regret it was, and regret it had been for the past seasons, and she never found it in herself to redeem it. What was there to say? There was nothing to do.

So miserably Amberspots crawled back to the elders’ den determined to face her past mistakes, but unprepared to what would come next. “If only I knew what she’d say, it would make the word more easy to bear. I’d be prepared.”

But honestly? It was only more funny to her that she didn’t expect the results beforehand. because when she appeared in the soft-lit den, she found Molefang and Whitewhisker snugled together, their foreheads close, gossiping about her brother of all cats.

“I say he has a crush on Sweetfrost, and you owe me a shrew,” Molefang was rasping in his gurgling voice. “We’ll see who’s got the best guess. I’m still young, you can’t beat me,” he boasted, slapping his paws on the ground in a joking manner. Then he tilted his head teasingly. “You want to try some of this?”
“Oh, I’ve got a better idea yet. You forgot I’m the best deputy in the Clans, my love,” Whitewhisker whispered with a glint in her eyes. “Amberspots, kitten, come here! Let me see your whiskers!”

Suddenly Amberspots felt very hot in the face and she started to stare at her paws in complete dissaray.

“Oh -- I’m sorry, Whitewhisker, I didn’t mean to intrude --”
“Nonsense, come here, settle a bet for us.”
“Now wait a minute,” Molefang argued, but Whitewhisker purred at him in victory and he swatted his tail in frustration. “You cheated.”
“Here, young one. Take a seat with us,” Whitewhisker continued. “Let us talk about your brother for a while.”

It didn’t take five seconds that Molefang was back on his tiptoes and asking more questions than he’d planned to.

“How is the old tom doing? Back alive from his downsided crush, I hope? Is he doing well? Eating enough?”
“I ask the questions,” Whitewhisker protested.
“Hush, my love, you’ve asked enough already,” Molefang protested, shushing her.
“You’re getting fierce in your old age,” she said crankily.
“You’re getting old,” he protested with a purr.

She purred. Then Molefang seemed to remember his questions and the both of them turned back to Amberspots, who had been feeling out of place but also somewhat comforted by their exchange. But now she was back in the sunlight, and she felt somewhat nervous for some reason.

“Now, who do you say would make your brother most healthy these days, hurm? Looking out the den, staring, hoping the sweet, sweet cat comes in?” Molefang asked in conspirational tone, bending his head as though he was sharing a most important secret. “You must tell us. Us old cats must know all the secrets of the Clan, you see. It keeps us young.”
“Nonsense,” Whitewhisker protested with a paw outstretched. “Love, let her breathe.”
“This was your idea, don’t you go back on it, you bended-up shrew,” Molefang coughed grumpily, but with a softness in his mew.
“You’re an old mouse,” Whitewhisker purred back, and they exchanged a loving muzzle-touch before continuying: “Tell us, is there someone your brother has caught in his heart yet?”
“My -- brother? I mean,” Amberspots stammered, confused and very embarrassed now to be in the middle of all of this talk. “He’s been quite well this day,” she declared, a little unsure but growing slowly curious of where all this talk would lead to.
“We think --”

But then Molefang stopped and stared at Whitewhisker in a questioning manner. They echanged a silent word-fight before Whitewhisker continued:

“We see he’s been quite out of sorts lately. And as such, we’d like to arrange a little playdate between them. To see where it could go. If he could be softer and happier today.”
“Is this about how he’s rough-pawed when he treats your joints?” Molefang teased softly.
“It’s about your bedding,” Whitewhisker noted. “Now, hush, let the young one speak.”
“Let you speak,” he argued. “You keep arguing. She argues, this one,” Molefang told Amberspots. “Argues all the time.”
“Only with you,” Whitewhisker mused. “Now, now. Let us be silent. Young one?”
“She’s still arguing,” Molefang whispered.

Whitewhisker was getting hard of hearing, but StarClan probably eanted to know her reaction as welland they granted her her hearing back for a few seconds, just enough to hear the jest. In a matter of seconds, the old molly was bowing down and roaring with laughter.

“Alright, I yield. You can go. Molefang?”
“Of course, love.”

She started washing his head-fur while he spoke. The familiarity of the gesture made Amberspots’s heard swell with warmth, and she felt like she’d stumbled into a beehive, and was covered in honey and nectar of the smelliest sort. They were adorable. Amberspots didn’t even want to hear the rest, she was fine sleeping here forever.

“I think he’s got something for Sweetfrost over there in his dark den,” Molefang said with a sparkling voice. “Imagining eating fish and things of the like for dinner, waiting for him to how up. How’s that? But Whitewhisker here, she’s got other plans. Here, here. Tell her.”
“Well, I imagine he’s better off with someone a little rough around the edges, someone who can walk and talk and do all sorts of things.”
“There’s no such cat around,” Molefang mused. “Yet we hope there’s someone to his liking over here.”

He nuzzled his mate, then turned back and settled his head next to her to sleep.

“Now, you must settle this bet for us.”

Amberspots stayed in quiet contemplation, before she started to gather her words. In all honesty, she liked the idea of Ravenwhisker and Sweetfrost becoming closer. He was an old wise tom, a very kind one too. Always soft-spoken, treated his patients with the best care. Liked to teach apprentices and often became sad about the laws that there could only be one apprentice to one medicine cat. He had the softest white fur that shone with the sun and glowed with the moon. She didn’t know her brother’s tastes, other than his infamous crush on Graystar -- not infamous to many cats but those who knew him well, that is -- but she supposed it might be a good pairing. They might get along well. She imagined his voice: “It’s not against the code if we’re both toms, and medicine cats”. They would be a sweet, soft pair. But perhaps they’d lose their spark.

Now Amberspots felt anxious, so she decided to ask another question.

“You say he has something for Sweetfrost?”
“Of course he does!”

Molefang’s head shot up excitedly. He loved gossip.

“I’ve seen him wait for him for ages and ages near Fourtrees. This cat’s heads over heels. How long can a cat wait for his comrade to show up? Yet he’s always standing next to their meeting place looking like some sort of love-stricken adder with chicken wings. That’s how obvious and black-on-white his lovesickness is. Let me tell you, I felt the same way when i saw Whitewhisker for the first time, and it still hasn’t proven me wrong.”

Whitewhisker let out a sharp “Oh, you” and licked his ear. The old tom purred happily.

“He might be waiting for something else,” Amberspots tried, but the old tom shook his head.
“No, no. Hear me! This tom’s going to bring us kittens by next moon!”
“You seem rather excited about this,” Amberspots said anxiously.
“Oh. Well if there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s that you’re always better off putting your nose in some other cat’s business if you want anything good to happen. Trust me! This is how great things happen. She became deputy, you became deputy, I reckon Coldstar -- or Coldyarrow, should I say -- became deputy as well. Anything can happen when you put your nose in the right bush.”
“I still don’t see how my brother’s love life concerns anyone but himself,” Amberspots forced out.

As she stared at the wall, dumbfounded by her own boldness, she felt something fierce inside of her that made the words easier to fall out.

“I mean, I don’t see how it concerns you. It’s his choice. What kind of sorrow would befall him if he knew of that sort of pressure? Let the cat breathe, for StarClan and Silverpelt! He’s going to sprout wings before he can get all that anxiety off his fur.”
“Hear, hear! Poor tom’s going to become dizzy,” Whitewhisker said loudly.

Amberspots decided to stay silent, since she was more confused at the moment at how strange it was to feel so angry about this sort of thing. She’d thought of telling Whitewhisker to stop all this right now, and not try and brush it off since it had been her idea. But the strange weight of her out-of-place anger felt too confounding for Amberspots to really express. It was as thoguh it came from a much darker place inside f her. And the scariest thing was how commanding she became whenever she was angry. It was very ridiculous, she thought. And now she felt tired as though she weight of ten squirrels was upon her. She felt like skeeping for a whole day. Emotions were exhausting. Apologies would have to wait. She was practically hunched over with sleepiness as she spoke. and her thoughtd were hard to follow. She nodded absentmindedly, excused herself and let her head rest upon her paws. Then she must have slept, because she didn’t remember anything in the next hours or so.

Afte she slept, she found Whitewhisker alone, looking thoughtful, and she felt lucky about it. She decided to ask her now. She had energy after her nap, and she felt refreshed. Literally. A cold wind was blowing their way.

She didn’t remember her quarrel with them until she started to stir, and her outburst felt just as big as it had felt back then, too. She decided to let go of it. Perhaps she’d been tired. After all these years of sleep deprivation, she’d forgotten that the old saying that cats get cranky when they don’t get their morning sleep -- applied to her too. She’d thought that after missing a couple moons worth of normal sleep, it stopped somewhat. And as stern as it felt, it was somewhat reassuring.

As she stirred, she felt her toes and her legs stretch far, and somehow her paws felt lighter, almost fuzzy. Then she thought, Am I dead? Quickly, she gave her chest a couple licks, and the pain in it made her feel even more real than the reassuring warmth of it. It buzzed alive, all anxiety and worries and horror, and she felt like sighing in relief, or even more, letting out a victorious caterwaul.

Now the question remained. Whitewhisker. The problem put a little dark overtone to her thoughts, and suddenly she felt her mind become confused again. Oh, and it had been so lovely these days, too! she thought in horrified nostalgia. She’d been able to sleep as she wished and not simply fall into a deep slumber. And she’d joined cats’ conversations willingly, and been able to follow. As great as her determination was, she knew she couldn’t break the walls around her mind. Whenever she thought of the problem, her spirit grew dark and restless, and she found swhe could hardly focus. She tried her utmost best to stay on topic, just to plan something out, but it proved impossible. the next best thing, she found, was to go in unprompted. So she did. Molefang wasn’t in her vision, so she assumed he must be either asleep a little ways off, or simply out stretching his legs, or even trying his paw at hunting. He was a little younger than his mate, and he’d retired along with her a little more than a season before he’d be considered a senior warrior, and of respectable age to retire. The two of them bickered, but they loved each other dearly, enough to refuse Clan honours to be with each other.

“How was it?” Amberspots asked, after staring for a moment at the silent molly staring sadly out the windy hole in the wall.
“How was what? Speak your mind, kitten.”
“How was it to face the Clan after deciding to retire together?”

Somehow, Whitewhisker always acted like she was ancient, but Amberspots was there the day she was born, so she always found it amusing to hear the ex-deputy go on about wisdom and old age as though she were giving her advice for her older days. Sometimes, she corrected her, but often she did not and simply let her do her thing and have fun with it. It was much more fun to watch her friend take her ease and stretch around the den, looking as though she belonged there, and looking very respectable and calm at that. She looked like a calm old molly like they went around rarely these days. Well, perhaps rthey still did, but as a matter of fact Clan cats tended to forget calm and soothing elders when they walked around camp. They were as peaceful as birds, looking as though they belonged there fully, and to a Clan cat, whose existence was mostly decided by rules and possession, and the fear and fright of protecting borders and moving away and getting more hunting grounds or protecting those you had from eager claws, it was always something of a second thought to pay much attention to elders and calmer cats. those who stayed in camp tended to become forgotten, and even a burden to the minds of those around them, simply because they did not move or make much noise. Sometimes they were even called something akin to outsiders. It was truly a little alike the situation with rogues, or loners as kinder cats liked to call them. They truly did not do much other than roam and survive, but to a Clan cat those two words were almost an outrage.

Yet Whitewhisker seemed little perturbed by those notions this afternoon, and after a long drink of air she slowly turned to Amberspots, her black-tipped eyes slowly blinking in the snow, looking almost sleepy in the pale light.

“(Not in battle, mind you, i had a few winning battles in my time. nothing like your prowess, mind you, but I had my own little victories) -- well, I always found it easier to vanish into the night than to take on new tasks. You simply retire and let life pass you by, and you return to the comfort of a sparrow with your mate, and there is something grounding about it. I suppose you haven’t had much use for grounding lately, kitten,” Whitewhisker noted soothingly, but with the glint of something more in the depths of her dark eyes. “I remember your battle-frenzied days. You were quite the warrior, mind you. I had half a mind to warn the enemy warriors not to encounter you everytime we walked by the battlefield!” she laughed.

Then Whitewhisker swallowed, and her eyes lit up with something like fear, a soft, long-digested sort of fear, the kind that doesn’t pass but stays near you. A quiet worry for quiet days, nothing like the anxiety Amberspots had but something a quiet old deputy like her could easily find nagging at her on stormy days. She looked sad, so sad. And Amberspots felt her heart ache, and her breath quicken.

“How did you do it?” Whitewhisker slowly said, with her voice little more than a whisper. “I mean, I never could do it like you did. Connecting cats together. Making them more than what they mean to be. I always found myself to be more of a quiet-night type of molly. I simply mean, you had a lot of spark back in the day. I’d say it reminds me of my own young days, but even then, I hardly passed your level. So… how did you do it?”

She’d made many pauses as she spoke, and her mew slowly grew more quiet and somber. she sounded almost like a desperate kitten at the end, and now she swallowed again, and looked thoughtfully at the entrance, as though waiting for Molefang to appear again.

“I suppose we’ll never know. some secrets are best kept by moonless nights and quiet river-drinks, eh?” she coughed out, then she lapped at her drink of moss and stayed quiet again for a long time.

She looked so utterly miserable that Amberspots felt the urge to wrap her in her fur and lick her head like a mother would her kit, and tell her anything that would help. It’s true, she’d known Whitewhisker when she was a little kit. She was part of -- she never liked to remember that specific part, but it was true -- Brownbelly’s first litter, plentiful and very loud. Many little kittens running around camp there were that leaf-fall. They needed many cats to help gather them round back to the nursery, and even then, there had been many addings to the nursery to help the many kits fit in next to their mother. She’d looked like a leader surrounded by her Clan at a Gathering, mighty and beautiful. She remembered she’d been brought a flower and she wore it on her ear, and she’d smiled a soft, exhausted, warm smile. She’d been bursting with happiness every waking moment. She never remembered who brought her a flower -- but seeing as iy was quite a strange idea indeed, it had probably come from her own lovesick head. She’d loved Brownbelly for moons and moons. Cold leaf-bares and soft greenleafs had passed and she hadn’t forgotten her yet, not until her deputyship in fact.

Whitewhisker was still rolled in her moss nest, but Amberspots hadn’t answered by the time the wind grew quieter yet. she was debating how to answer. Normally she’d scoot over and sit right next, and give her her full attentuion as deputy training minded her. but here, ity was hard to feel like she had the place to. It felt like Whitewhisker’s den, and even though they both were elders, Whitewhisker looked so at peace here that it was hard to feel like she had the right to move around freely. But she still tried to give her her best deputy’s listening ear to the worried elder, concerned she’d lose focus again if she waited for too long.

“Well, the -- I guess you just have to not wait too long. Just rush in, don’t wait for the right moment. just -- rush in like a beheaded sparrow. Don’t think about it, you know? It sounds mouse-brained but it sure served me. I guess with the adrenaline of battle and all that, it serves you to use your nerves. Or to dismiss them, in fact. You just think about it all less. Pain hurts less. You just go and go and paw and slap, and after you’re done and you feel your breath -- you feel your breath first, it comes first, and breathing hard makes it come back again, so you never stop breathing and you just keep moving and moving. By that time you’ve reached the second part of battle, and you protect others, you move other around make little ground of three to four cats who fight together so you get a more peaceful, dispersed battlefield. And I guess that’s the most peaceful part of battle. Your deputyness happens there. You just keep moving after that. Cats starts getting tired. You run to their aid, or you just -- best part of battle is explaining to cats what to do, since they listen, you know? Tell them to lay off, tell them to go away. Tell them to get to cover. You get to protect them, or rush them to safety. Cats start getting hurt after a while, you know. So you get to help them. Worst part is that you can’t always see your cats, and they don’t always answer to signals. So you just kind of fight everyone off. Sometimes you hear screams and you head over there, but -- usually it’s incredibly hard and stressful to get everyone accounted for at all times. I suppose that’s what you did best?”

Amberspots licked her shoulder thoughtfully, with a frustrated growl.

“I could never figure out how to find cats on the battlefield. I’m still thinking about it.”

Whitewhisker stared at her for a long time, with her eyes hard and cold. something nasty flickered inside of them, cold like an icicle, but also warm and loving, like a fire nestled inside an ice ball that needed a little thwaing to get to its center. Then she spoke, and from her mouth cold words dripped like frozen water from a lake, and Amberspots couldn’t move for a few long moments.

“Good thing Coldstar’s your leader or you never would have figured out the rest of battle, ey? I could never figure it out either. Took a beating out of me at first. But you must admit you never really went there, did you? I ain’t here to start anything, kitten, but see! There’s the rest in battle, too. I admit I find you a little featherbrained, and I suppose i shouldn’t say that of our dear ginger deputy here, but still. There’s a whole different side of battle you ain’t seen, young one. there’s so many cats laying down afterwards. There’s the lines to see the medicine cat, stern, dark lines, with the smell that makes you sick. there’s the soothing herbs. there’s the long night afterwards. there’s the -- not much wailing, I admit. But you must know how hard it is, and how many are thankful to you for giving them a second breath. battle is exhausting. It’s fox-hearted. It hurts, it hurt so many cats. me, I could never understand how they were so grateful for you to make them like they said they were. How could you even make them grateful for getting you into battle? did you never consider the risks? These cats were happy for you, and trusted you, and loved you and your every word. And neither them nor you ever considered the risks it took. Did they never know how to get a truly peaceful life?”

She blinked, then shook her head. her eyes were settled decisively into Amberspots’ as though she defied her to disagree.

“Cats don’t need a battle to have a good day. they need food, and shelter, fresh green nests and long naps and a long, good drink by the river. I never understood how you could make them see something so fresh, so “good” while cats fell and had to get the brunt of it. Cats aren’t warriors, Amberspots. Cats want a long, happy life with friends they love and comrades they’d die for. But die they don’t have to. Do you understand? I never understood how cats could see a leader as plentiful and greenleaf-bringing as they saw Coldstar, or you, as they watched the furty of battle that comes from your hides and they never wonder who it comes from. Maybe it comes from the Clan, but truthfully, i never understood and i don’t want to, either. If you came here to ask me my blessing to be deputy again, you’ll have it, but don’t expect me to roll around and listen if there’s something you have to say. The day’s too short to waste on spitting war-heavy words and combat tactics.”

Amberspots felt heat gather under her fur. she barely noticed when Molefang appeared out of the darkening entrance, and meowed them both good afternoon. Amberspots nodded numbly. Whitewhisker lifted her head and greeted her mate, but when she spoke her voice was barely warmer. She seemed almost desolate.

“I came here to have a good life, and bring prosperity to the Clan, but it seems there isn’t much of that to go around. I wish I didn’t need to see StarClan to gain the knowledge that peace exists.”

Feeling something like warm pain settle in her throat, Amberspots settled down into her nest -- luckily some distance away -- and started washing her pelt. She was shaking. Why? Haven’t I been through enough battle to know fear as it is? Maybe that’s the problem. Battle… Sadness always made her want to go make dirt. But she didn’t. Instead she stood there hoping the shaking would disappear and her entrails would unfill themselves backwards. But the feeling stuck for long, too long in fact. she wanted to claw it out. She didn’t know what to do with it. Today hasn’t gone as planned indeed. Then she went to make dirt and hoped she wouldn’t get a scowl on the way out. She didn’t.

Chapter 28: Sparkles in the Sky

Summary:

An important conversation between Amberspots and Ravenwhisker.

It had been a while since Amberspots had seen this sight and been able to enjoy it. Sunrise. Cats waking up. She saw her brother go off to the fresh-kill pile and her mate wave hello at her with her whiskers from the other side of the clearing. Tigerstorm and Beavertail “subtly” leaving camp, their tails intertwined. Bluefeather trying to remove a knot from Mooneye’s short, ragged fur. Those two looked as compatible as a fish and water. She decided to get up and see what they were up to, like any nosy old friend would do.

“Hey, careful there, warrior-brain,” Ravenwhisker fretted suddenly from her side. “Wait until I’m finished grooming you.”

“You’re not my mother,” Amberspots grunted, but she slumped down anyways. “What have you been eating, you’re really heavy. Stop squishing me!”

“My breath stinks too,” Ravenwhisker added, and he huffed right into her nostrils.

“Get off me, you old crow,” Amberspots hissed.

He looked surprised as she found the strength to push him off her.

“I thought you weren’t training anymore,” he protested.

“I work out in my dreams,” she joked. “Can we go get something to eat now?”

Ravenwhisker sat down and started to lick his ear.

“You sound like you’re an apprentice again. Then again, I do feel more energized today. Must be the weather.”

“I don’t know. Well, I did spend a few nights with Coldstar. It must be catching up to me.”

She sighed.

“What even happened to the two of us? And don’t say it’s part of the smoke illness. I don’t even believe you. I haven’t smelled any smoke in ages.”

“Well, I’ll have you know it’s Bluefeather’s theory and not just mine. How are her herbs anyways?”

“She went to see you the other day! She said to get you the herbs -- wait, was that my job? Did I forget? It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve thought properly. I suppose it’s the treatment Fernpaw and you have been giving me. I feel, I don’t know. Lighter.”

“Well, we washed you.”

“Hey, I wash!” Amberspots protested.

“Sometimes. And we’ve been giving you a mix of poppy seeds to sleep better, and -- well, you probably don’t know it, it’s this remedy for -- no, those are poppy seeds, too. I guess we’ve just been giving you poppy seeds. And you haven’t been sick in a while. I reckon the illness must be wearing off.”

“Congrats, then. Should I be happy?” Amberspots muttered gloomily.

“Well, aren’t you?” Ravenwhisker worried.

“Not really. Anyways, it’s food time. Come on!”

"Stop being hungry and answer my question!" Ravenwhisker grumbled. "And before you ask, some apprentices will bring us food soon. It's not even meal-time yet."

"But I'm hungry!" Amberspots complained. "It's been ages since I've eaten a proper mouse. Or a squirrel."

"Stop grumbling and answer my questions," Ravenwhisker ordered.

She rolled her eyes.

"You can't order me around, you're just the medicine cat."

"Well, exactly, I'm allowed to order you around when it's about your recovery. Now, spill it out. Why aren't you happy to recover? Are you still sick? What kind of cat even does that?"

"This kind of cat right here," Amberspots huffed as she was sitting down.

She started grooming her muzzle.

"And, well, to be honest with you, I feel like you've been -- well, like you haven't been taking this seriously."

"Hey!" Ravenwhisker started.

"I'm not finished," Amberspots protested. "I don't like this smoke illness idea you lot have been talking about. I'll have you know I'm a perfectly healthy old molly, and I haven't been swallowing any smoke. Unless you're referring to that forest fire -- when was that again? About ten leaf-bares ago?"

"It's the only idea we have," Ravenwhisker explained soothingly. "And, besides, smoke would explain a lot. Cats who swallow too much smoke get dizzy and incoherent."

"Hey, are you calling me incoherent?"

"I'm calling you a big jumbled mess," Ravenwhisker specified. "Between this illness and everything else that happened --"

"You know, you can just say the words, it's not going to make me die on the spot."

"Fine, whatever. It's off-topic anyways. You need to rest in the elders's den for a few moons."

"I'm more likely to die that way," Amberspots huffed.

"Come on, the elders are pretty nice cats. I'm sure they'll be good companions."

"I'm not complaining about the elders, I'm complaining because I hate this entire situation and it seems like there's no way to get out of it."

"What do you mean?" Ravenwhisker asked.

It was hard to focus when he was looking away and grooming his back, but her thoughts were focused enough not to be jumbled.

"There's no smoke illness -- I don't know what you two have been talking about. There is no smoke. And I know plenty of young cats that have been behaving like this and nobody calls it a smoke illness. I mean, I don't feel sick. I know I'm not sick. It's time to stop throwing theories around and just -- I don't know, listen to me? It's impossible to say what I feel if it's all going to be somehow annexed to the smoke thing. It's something else -- I know it is. Maybe you medicine cats need to start looking somewhere else for answers."

"Why, though?"

"Because! I'm telling you: it's something else! The answer is somewhere else! I don't know if it's a magical stardust illness or something like that, but I know it's got something to do with what happened last -- last whenever. You know what, after the morning meal, I'm going to go see Coldstar to look for clues. You just -- well, you do whatever you want."

"Sounds like a plan," Ravenwhisker sighed. "You sure you can handle going there by yourself?"

"I'm not made of water," Amberspots muttered.

"You kind of are."

"Hey!" Amberspots protested with a purr.

She raised a paw at him and prepared herself to pounce, but he raised his tail in peace.

"Alright, alright, I yield. Keep your strength for the walk around camp."

Amberspots sat back down. She felt ashamed at her behavior.

"Sorry, I'm behaving like a kitten."

Ravenwhisker purred.

"Yes, you are. An adorable baby cat that's about to go see the camp for the first time!"

Amberspots purred.

"I wish there were more kits around camp this year. It's always fun to watch them go around with their little wobbly paws."

"Isn't Brownbelly expecting again? You'll get kittens soon."

"You knew about that?"

"Yeah, she went to see me."

"Hm."

Amberspots let her head rest on her paws. She could see the camp from where she was sitting. It seemed to be a warm day out today. Coldstar was sitting proudly on top of her den -- she always liked to see the camp from a distance. Mooneye was sitting next to her, grumbling about something. Amberspots guessed she was wondering how such an old cat had been able to jump so easily to get there. Then the young cat started to wash her paws in annoyance. They were fairly bushy -- very prickly, too. Then Amberspots decided it had been enough cat-watching for the day and looked for something else to think about.

She only noticed the dens. They looked soft. Maybe a very big cat could even use their roofs as a nest. A cat, or maybe a Twoleg -- if they could even fit in it with their dangly legs. She hoped Twolegs weren't cold during leaf-bares. What sorts of nests could they even curl up in?

She sighed and thought about the new generations that would soon arrive. Brownbelly's kits -- and probably also Tigerstorm's kits, if she and Mushroomtail kept being as close as they now were.

"Are you ever sad you won't have kits?" Ravenwhisker asked suddenly.

"I don't think I am," Amberspots guessed. "I mean, my life has been full without them. And while it would be fun to pass on what I've learned… I don't think it's necessary. I mean, it's not black-or-white. It does make me sad sometimes. I mean, almost everyone else has has kits. It's like the seasons kept passing for them but they stopped for me. Sorry. I'm not in a good mood right now, I suppose. What about you?"

"I've wanted to be a medicine cat since forever. It's almost irrelevant compared to how much fun I'm having everyday. This work I do is everything I've ever wanted. I'm as happy as I could ever be."

"You didn't seem happy when we were apprentices, though."

"Oh, come on, who likes exams and questioning? I like figuring out which poultice to use, and waking up to new challenges every day, and forming apprentices to take my place. And I like knowing someone will take my place when I'm gone. It feels like fitting in place. But sometimes, I do wish I had someone to share it wish."

He looked somber now. Lost in thought. Amberspots decided to cheer him up.

"Speaking of that, I heard some interesting things from Molefang and Whitewhisker the other day," she said playfully.

"You did?" Ravenwhisker echoed.

"Well let's just say you have the support of the elders in your… endeavors", she finished with a wink.

"What endeavors? There are no endeavors!" Ravenwhisker protested. "If you're referring to Sweetfrost and I, we're strictly friends."

"Oh, funny how I never mentioned him," Amberspots teased. "I smell love."

"Shut up, warrior-brain."

"Well, at least you got over -- who was it?"

"I'm not going to talk about my past -- things -- with my littermate of all cats!" Ravenwhisker whined.

"Why are you so embarrassed?" Amberspots mused. "Hey, I heard he's a nice tom. Ain't no shame."

"Well, it's good to know he's officially Amberspots-approved. Can you stop nagging me now? You old mouse..."

"You're an old mouse. You need to accept love, brother."

Ravenwhisker laid on his back and pretended to be dead.

"This conversation is the worst," he grumbled.

"I've never seen you two talk together. I'll have to see if you're really compatible, and then I'll go back to see Whitewhisker and Molefang and we'll place bets."

"Do you seriously have bets? Do I get part of it?"

"Depends. Are you willing to place a bet, too?"

"Wouldn't that be cheating?"

"It would be. Sorry, looks like you're not placing any bets after all."

"Aww, but I'm the only cat that's actively participating. I deserve a compensation."

"Compensate this!" Amberspots exclaimed, swatting him on the nose.

He huffed, then washed his nose reflexively.

"Does nobody care about the warrior code anymore?" Ravenwhisker protested. "I'm a medicine cat -- we're both medicine cats!"

"Oh, that's the problem? I mean, Coldstar and I are both mollies, and it's not the most warrior-code-abiding union ever, but it works anyways."

"It's not a problem in my case: it's the reality. It's impossible. End of story. Two medicine cats -- even just one medicine cat. Impossible. No way. Uh-uh."

"That's sad."

"It's not sad, it's part of the job. You enroll knowing this is what your life will be like. You don't get sad, or wishful, or anything like that. You feel happy in your position. That's how it's like for medicine cats. And I'm sure Pearlshade feels that way, too. That's how it is."

"What if Sweetfrost doesn't feel that way?"

"It doesn't matter, he's a medicine cat. We need order to take good care of our Clans. It's not up to us. Wishing for something would be like taking care of a kit you know is dying. What's the point? Or -- better example -- having kits when you're a housecat. What's the point? Twolegs will take them away."

"They don't do that, do they?" Amberspots let out in a horrified gasp.

"They do, and it's the same thing with medicine cats. Don't expect anything -- it's like, rule number one."

He sighed. There was a long pause. Then he looked in Amberspots's general direction.

"But… if I ever were to do something, would you support me?"

Amberspots answered right away.

"Well, yeah. Littermates for life!"

"You're supposed to argue."

Amberspots yawned.

"I don't want to. I actually agree."

"I don't trust you."

"Well, you will."

"Thanks, warrior-brain."

"No problem, plant-head."

Chapter 29: Rekindling with the Past

Amberspots came back to the elders's den for a little while. A little nap before showtime couldn't hurt. And Ravenwhisker had been adamant on taking care of her joints before walking outside in this weather.

She walked in on Tigerstorm chatting with Whitewhisker while Molefang was desperately trying to untangle his mate's pelt. Yet she kept moving and he couldn't get a firm grip on the hairball that was bothering him.

"Amberspots! Come join us!" Tigerstorm purred. "Come on, I refreshed your nest! It's all cozy and fresh for you! Come listen! Whitewhisker is telling a story!"

Amberspots nodded to the old deputy, still wary of another fight. But Whitewhisker didn't seem angry anymore, only a little annoyed.

"What story is that?"

"Come on, don't be so formal, we're all friends here. Why don't you listen in? A good story time always cheers cats up."

"Not this cat," Molefang groaned. "Stop moving, you're disturbing my concentration."

"Fine, fine. Come on, kitten. Sun's warm over here."

Amberspots gingerly sat down on her bedding.

"Alright, now that everyone's done interrupting --"

Molefang let out a loud caterwaul.

"What are you doing?" Whitewhisker protested with an amused purr.

"I'm not done interrupting," he stated. "Now, stay still."

"Grumpy old badger."

"Your fur is the badger."

"My fur is a badger?"

"What's the rest of the story?" Tigerstorm pleaded. "Please?"

"Alright, alright. Now, Amberspots, shall we start over again?"

"No, no, keep going. I wouldn't want to bother."

Amberspots curled up in her nest and let out a yawn.

"You arrived at the good part," Tigerstorm whispered.

"Now, what was I saying again?"

"Uh, the RiverClan cats were like dogs or something --" Tigerstorm provided.

"Ah! Yes, yes. Well, RiverClan threw them out. Some cats say they decided to come on their own volition, but I don't see why any cat would be happy to leave their home. Maybe the anger was too much for them to handle. Anyways -- they had two kits. Beaver -- no, not beaver, why did I say beaver -- his name is -- was -- Pelletkit. And the other one was -- yes, I was right: Beaverkit."

"Now, you might be saying, 'but wise elders, how old could Graystar be if Ravenwhisker took a liking to him?'" Molefang interrupted. "Well, as we all know, he spent quite a few leaf-bares in ThunderClan before --

"Don't tell the kits that!" Whitewhisker protested.

"What? It's old ThunderClan gossip everyone knows already."

"Ravenwhisker -- what? With Beavertail's father?" Tigerstorm protested.

"Nothing! Keep your muzzle shut," Whitewhisker hissed.

"Alright, alright," Molefang grumbled.

"Wasn't he awfully young?" Tigerstorm said with a gag.

"Now, now, don't let these furballs confuse you," Amberspots protested. "Graystar had plenty of time to have kits in his life, but he only -- well it's Clan gossip at this point. You're better off asking Beavertail. We wouldn't want to spread rumours."

"Nobody's spreading rumours! And you're boring," Whitewhisker muttered. "We're just passing on our legacy."

"I mean, it's a little too late to stop. If you stop now, I'll end up thinking Ravenwhisker had a thing for a tom half his age -- or even younger."

"Don't say that," Amberspots muttered in disgust. "It's improper. And I'll have you know old Graystar was our age."

"Okay, okay. But what happened next?"

"See, the young one gets it. We must finish the tale," Molefang stated.

"We could ask Beavertail," Whitewhisker mused.

"Should we?" Amberspots hesitated.

But Whitewhisker ignored her and turned her head towards the young warrior padding in the clearing, looking bored.

"HEY, BEAVERTAIL!" the elder yelled. "GET YOUR PELT OVER HERE."

Beavertail looked confused but still jogged over. He exchanged a nuzzle with Tigerstrom before settling down next to her.

"We were just talking about you," Tigerstorm purred. "We were wondering how you came to ThunderClan."

"Whose idea was that anyways?" Amberspots huffed. "We shouldn't spread rumours like that."

"It's no problem. I happen to be proud of that story," Beavertail purred.

He then turned to Tigerstorm and tried to brag.

"And it's about time I told you why your handsome friend was -- is -- came to -- well, I lost my train of thought. But it's a nice story," he added.

"Well?" Molefang pressed.

"I guess my father just wanted some change? I don't know. He came to ThunderClan because we have a reputation of taking in housecats and rogues. He thought he'd be welcome. And he was! That was uh, several, several moons before my mother and him met. The thing is that he used to visit RiverClan in secret to go see his littermates and his mother. Then, well, I suppose one day he came back with my brother when he was just Pelletkit and said he found a lost kitten in the woods. The trick is that nobody expected a tom his age to be able to mate properly, so they saw no reason not to believe him. But then, someone in RiverClan -- I can't remember how -- figured out the truth and exposed him at the Gathering."

"Wow," Tigerstrom echoed. "That's pretty intense."

"Yeah. Well, I think he was proud. To him, it was like having the whole world know he had two healthy kits."

"That's a way to see it," Amberspots nodded.

"What would you do if it happened to you?" Tigerstorm asked.

"I don't know. I would probably curl up into a ball," Beavertail admitted.

"Stop chatting, tell us the end of the story," Molefang complained.

"When the truth was exposed, my mother and myself came to live in ThunderClan with them. That's it, I think."

"Now that I think about it, it seems like the kind of story only legendary cats have, like Thunder, or Moth Wing. You're a hero, then," Tigerstorm purred.

"I'm no hero," Beavertail protested shyly. "I'm just an ordinary Clan cat that's going to have an ordinary life with ordinary battles and ordinary hunting parties. I do wish I were someone like Thunder or Moth Wing. It would be a fun life."

"I do believe a simple Clan life is a good life," Whitewhisker declared. "Living with your Clanmates is all the satisfaction I need in my life."

"Removing hair tangles is all the satisfaction I need in mine," Molefang muttered with a mouthful of hair in his jaws.

"It's all about the simple pleasures," Whitewhisker agreed.

But Tigerstorm had another idea.

"I wish we could fight in big battles! The kind that kits are told about even a hundred winters afterwards! The kind that makes you feel awesome even after it's finished! And you become all excited!"

"We could fight together and get a team name!" Beavertail agreed.

"I thought you'd be a little disappointed he didn't say who you were right away," Amberspots let out.

"I admire that he could live on the edge and keep things interesting. StarClan knows we need excitement every now and then."

Whitewhisker hesitated.

"They weren't doing anything wrong, and it made everyone curious to find out the truth for a few moons," Beavertail explained.

"I wouldn't call breaking the warrior code "not doing anything wrong," personally," Molefang said after spitting out a ball of matted fur.

"Well, it was fun," Tigerstorm argued.

"You kits are awfully impulsive," Whitewhisker sighed. "Life isn't only about excitement. It's about finding peace."

"What was he like?" Tigerstorm asked.

"Interesting, I suppose," Amberspots hesitated. "He was quite the show-off. I admit I didn't quite trust him at first. He always seeked out the rush. I reckon he would've jumped from a tree if it -- if he -- you know. He would've found it fun and tried to do it. He wasn't particularly a good -- uh. Well, you had to know him. Though I got a different account from Coldstar. Apparently, he was quite understanding as a leader."

"Since when is Coldstar leader?" Tigerstorm asked.

"Oh, I don't know. You never knew Yellowstar -- the leader when I was young. I think Graystar came to our Clan after his apprenticeship. Maybe. I don't remember. He became leader -- appointed -- wait, no. Why were you never leader again?" Amberspots asked.

"My leg, you big badger," Whitewhisker purred. "It started to hurt in leaf-bare. Remember how you had to do whatever tasks took place outside of the den?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Well, I became deputy during leaf-bare -- what did we call it? Half-deputy?"

"I don't remember," Whitewhisker shrugged.

"Half-deputy. Anyways, it didn't work too well."

"Nonsense, you did wonderfully."

"Well, it didn't feel like it. Cats kept coming to me with questions."

"I don't know what you expected. That's what it is to become deputy -- you organize the Clan."

"Well, it was hard. What were we talking about again? Before that? Yes, Coldstar. Well, she was deputy to Graystar -- despite being older than him, mind you."

Whitewhisker let out a triumphant meow.

"Ha! I was older than both of you."

"You're younger than me," Amberspots protested.

"You keep telling yourself that."

"I was there when you were born!" Amberspots huffed, exasperated.

"Anyways, I understand how some cats prefer the -- how do I say it -- more difficult aspects of Clan life. But remember, life is about more than that."

"Like what?" Beavertail muttered. "Chasing squirrels? Getting ticks?"

"Chasing ticks? Getting squirrels?" Tigerstrom added.

"Imagine if we had tiny squirrels walking all over our backs," Beavertail purred. "Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Adorable and tasty. Can cats eat ticks?"

"You can try if you want to," Molefang rasped. "I'll let you know when I get some."

"You joke, but we might actually try," Beavertail warned.

"Team tick-eaters! Tickters!" Tigerstorm purred.

"Ticksters! Wait, tickters. I like that!" Beavertail purred. "It's the best team ever."

"Go away before I get sick," Molefang muttered.

"You kits might be interested in knowing about the time I started a game of Mouse at a Gathering," Amberspots purred.

"Really? How did that happen?" Tigerstorm exclaimed in amazement.

"That's awesome!" Beavertail screeched at the same time.

"It'll have to wait, I'm afraid. I was just about to take a nap."

"We won't bother you, then! Come on, Beavertail, let's go find some ticks."

Tigerstorm jumped to her paws, and Beavertail followed her.

"Wow, your grandmother is really cool!" Amberspots heard Beavertail say in the distance.

"Oh, I wish she were my grandmother -- but she is pretty awesome. Did I ever tell you about the time me and Amberspots went bug-hunting? She showed me all the good spots."

"Ticks don't live in the wild, do they?" Beavertail muttered anxiously.

Amberspots didn't hear the reply. She decided to lay down. As she was closing her eyes and hoping for well-deserved sleep, she heard Whitewhisker shuffle besides her.

“I bet you’re hoping for a good nap right now,” her Clanmate muttered.

“You’re right,” Amberspots mumbled. “I’d like to get back to it, too.”

“Of course. I just wanted to say sorry for the other day. I know battle isn’t easy but if it helps our young ones find purpose, then… We’re old, you and I. Perhaps we -- I mean I -- lost sight of what’s really important.”

Amberspots rose up to a sitting position. Whitewhisker looked frail and uncertain.

“No, you’re right. At least in part. It is important to cultivate peace. We can’t live off battles and bloodshed. I know they don’t, but -- well, what I’m asking is: what happens if the Clans decide to make peace once and for all? What happens for all of us? We’re warriors. I feel like we’ve based a lot of our traditions upon Clan rivalry, but when there’s no rivalry anymore -- what then?”

“I suppose that’s partly what it means to become an elder,” Whitewhisker mused. “Living Clan life without what makes it worthwhile.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the only thing that makes it worthwhile,” Amberspots protested softly. “There’s protecting the borders, and hunting the best prey, and taking care of our kittens. There’s preparing for leaf-bare and rebuilding the nursery when snow falls off the roof as usual. I mean, sure, it’s not as interesting or as exhausting as a battle well-fought, but -- it’s good enough, right?”

Amberspots looked into Whitewhisker’s eyes and saw her own worries into them.

“Is something troubling you? I could bring it up to Coldstar or something,” she let out.

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. Anyways, thanks for hearing me out. It’s not easy becoming an elder, but I hope Molefang and I can make your stay feel like home.”

“Thank you,” Amberspots purred. “I mean it. I can’t say I’m not still thinking about what you said. I mean, I think you were right. But truthfully, I can’t do anything now. I haven’t been a deputy in -- how long has it been?”

“Don’t mind me, I think too much,” Whitewhisker replied, shaking her head gingerly. “Forget about it.”

“I can try,” Amberspots answered. “Well, I’m going to nap now. Good -- uh, day, or something.”

“Of course. We’ll save you something when the apprentices come.”

Chapter 30: When the Truth Comes

When Amberspots woke up, she was suffering from a nasty headache. She still ate the rabbit that the apprentices had brought them, but in silence, and she considered going to see her brother for some remedies the entire time. Eventually, she decided it wasn’t worth the trek to the medicine den and chose to go for a walk around camp to clear her thoughts.

She noticed Coldstar overseeing the morning tasks and decided to join her. She’d hoped she wouldn’t be bothering anyone, but Coldstar beckoned her over with her tail.

“Mousefoot, Beechstep, Beavertail and Badgerstripe for the morning patrol. What do you think?” Coldstar asked.

“You’re asking me? What’s the occasion?” Amberspots meowed.

She hesitated to join them but eventually gave in.

“There were reports of rabbit traces near the ShadowClan border. I’m sending a team to investigate.”

“Oh. Any idea who it could be? Wait -- we can talk about it later. Let’s see -- I noticed Beavertail and Tigerstorm spend an awful lot of time together these days. Perhaps he’d miss her if he went away so long.”

“I knew you would notice if something like this happened,” Coldstar purred. “I’ll be sending --”

“Can I join?” Bluefeather yowled from the entrance to the warriors’s den. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“Of course. Bluefeather will join, then. Any questions?” Coldstar inquired in her soft voice.

Amberspots remembered thinking that naming her Coldstar had been a mistake. She really was anything but cold. «But perhaps if her parents referred to the comfortable silence of leaf-bare, or in the way shelter seems so inviting in the cold… Then Coldstar is the best name for her.»

“Why would there be questions? It’s a patrol. If we see anything weird, we report it, and if we see anyone weird, we bring them here. Easy task,” Bluefeather rasped.

Mooneye let out a snort somewhere.

“Nothing serious,” the deputy joined in. “Go have fun. But if you see anyone out of place -- well, bring them to me. I want to see their face. It’s going to be hilarious.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Mousefoot announced, then she proudly led the patrol out of camp.

Coldstar saw them off, then went back to her observation spot near the entrance to her den, gesturing to Amberspots to join her. Amberspots gladly obeyed.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I have been thinking about this quite a lot -- why did you appoint Mooneye deputy?”

Coldstar purred, sitting down in the comfortable bed of snow. She didn’t even seem cold. Amberspots remembered thinking she was an apparition from StarClan fairly often in her youth.

“She reminds me of you,” the leader admitted. “Always ready to have fun, and very bubbly, too -- but stern, too, and serious. When we plan battles together, she becomes quite the strategist. And she’s very brave, too.”

“Bubbly?” Amberspots echoed.

“I suppose you don’t know her quite much,” Coldstar meowed. “But she might surprise you. But in all honesty, I do miss our time together as leader and deputy. Remember that time we played Mouse in a Gathering? Those were better times.”

“What changed? We could still do that.”

“I don’t know. Clan life has become different. More serious. And everything that I thought we would go through together -- StarClan had a different path in mind. I thought I would retire and trust you with the Clan. And I’d be with you, always. And -- well, I suppose I haven’t been having as much fun as I could have, leading without you. I remember how you were always so joyful and -- you always had something happy to say about whatever happened in the Clan. And I trusted you with it, too. If anything had ever happened to me -- it would’ve been yours to lead, and I wouldn’t even have worried. Mooneye is a good deputy, but -- I wish it was you. You know, we were a team and… I hope Mooneye isn’t listening right now, because this might come out the wrong way.”

“I’m not,” Mooneye yowled from the fresh-kill pile.

“Why did you answer, then?” Coldstar yowled back.

“The wind carried the sentence to me. But I don’t want to hear your secrets,” she protested. “Go talk somewhere else.”

Coldstar purred in amusement.

“In a way, she’s a bit like the daughter we -- you know, the one we talked about having, or something. You remember?”

«I can see the resemblance,» Amberspots thought.

“I do remember. Do you regret not having kits?”

“Not really. It would’ve been hard to outlive them, with my nine lives and all.”

“How many lives did you spend?”

“I don’t know -- four? five? I can’t recall. I haven’t died a lot.”

“It’s a strange thing to say, isn’t it?” Amberspots remarked. “I haven’t died a lot. Feels surreal.”

“Oh, it does,” Coldstar agreed.

“Oh! I was supposed to talk to you about something. I remember talking about it yesterday with Ravenwhisker. No, actually, it was this morning, before the sun rose. Or as it rose. I don’t remember. Let me see… Oh, right, the smoke illness.”

“The what? Did you swallow smoke?” Coldstar panicked.

“No, no -- well, according to Ravenwhisker -- stars, why am I always on the brink of calling him Ravenpaw? -- according to him, I suppose I did. He says my condition -- you know, my moods and stuff -- have been brought by smoke or something. I don’t believe it a second. But apparently, our medicine cats are all certain -- well, not certain, but, well, they all believe him. What do you think?”

“When would you even have swallowed smoke? The forest hasn’t burned in seasons!” Coldstar muttered incredulously.

“From what I’ve understood, or deduced, well, I suppose it would be something akin to -- they didn’t even say that. I can’t remember what they actually said to explain the smoke… Well, Ravenwhisker did say -- and I remember -- that the… I lost my train of thought. I guess he said this and other symptoms are much like smoke swallowing.”

“But -- remember the time you asked me about the kit that scared you -- that the sky was telling you would die unless you did that thing -- that’s not smoke swallowing symptoms, right?” Coldstar let out in confusion. “I mean, I have it too, and I haven’t -- unless we both swallowed smoke in our kithood or something…”

“But why smoke? Why not anything else? That’s what bothers me about this. I don’t even want anyone to know about these things I used to think about. I don’t want cats poking at me, trying to figure out what’s inside my mind. It’s annoying. It feels like they’d just be playing around, trying to find a fun reason why these things are happening, and wouldn’t help at all. Who cares what I have? I just wish I were able to -- I didn’t have to hide my symptoms. I don’t want them playing StarClan, telling me “you have this” and “you have that”. I don’t care, I just want help. Or, well, I wanted help. It hasn’t happened in a few leaf-bares. But I’m scared of it returning. Not because I’m helpless or anything -- it’s not some evil ghost, it’s just a part of me.”

She started to wash her fur.

“Here, let me,” Coldstar offered.

She started to clean her mate’s pelt with long, soothing strokes. Amberspots felt herself relax.

“Hey, you know what’s fun?” Amberspots let out before she fell asleep.

“Yeah?” Coldstar hummed between licks.

“Well, I noticed our names match. A little bit like the seasons. You’re Coldstar, I’m -- well, I’m not Warm-something but, well, our pelts match. Like leaf-fall and leaf-bare.”

“I like it when you get philosophical, “ Coldstar murmured happily.

“Hey, are you falling asleep?” Amberspots mumbled groggily.

“No,” said Coldstar. “I’m resting my brain.”

“We’re going to be so cold when we wake up,” Amberspots muttered.

“We’re in my den,” Coldstar reminded her.

“Sleep time then.”

“Sleep time. My favorite time,” Coldstar whispered.

Then they both fell asleep on each other.

Chapter 31: Concerning the Smoke Illness

Amberspots woke up. She didn't know how much time had passed, but she felt well-rested. Sleeping nestled in her mate's fluffy fur was always more relaxing than sleeping in her moss bed, and for once, she didn't wake up wishing she was still asleep. She felt fully energized, if a little hungry.

It was sunrise, meaning Coldstar was already up. Amberspots stretched lazily before taking off to see her overseeing the morning patrols. She looked powerful from where she was standing -- still muscular and tall even in her great age. It made Amberspots purr in happiness.

She started to wash herself. When she came to the spot on her leg that was stubbornly still bald even after all these years of healing, her mind started to waver. She thought about Ravenwhisker's theory of a smoke illness. Now, he was the expert, of course: but still, it seemed like a very unrelated reason to her problem. It felt more like a problem in her mind than in her body.

She decided to pay him a visit later today. As she was pondering it, she heard Tigerstorm's chirpy meow over by the warriors' den.

"Team tickters!" she yowled.

"Team tickters!" Beavertail called back from wherever he was.

Tigerstorm let out a pensive mew. As she turned her head around as though she were trying to find the source of a scent, Amberspots noticed that her eyes were closed.

"I'll find you eventually!" she warned.

"No, you won't!" Beavertail assured.

"Tigerstorm! Are you alright?" Amberspots called out.

Seeing cats walking around with their eyes closed made her worry that they had some sort of eye sickness.

"I'm okay, Amberspots, we're just playing a game!"

"Battle training," Beavertail cut her off, scrambling to get out of the thornbushes. "Ow. Hi, Amberspots. Good to see you."

He knocked his shoulder onto Tigerstorm's, who opened her eyes.

"What? You left your hiding place? No fair! I was just about to find you."

"I was in the thornbushes," he explained.

Tigerstorm grimaced.

"Well, I would've found you some other time for sure!"

"Totally," Beavertail agreed.

"Warrior training, is it?" Amberspots echoed. "Then you might want to go to the training grounds."

"It is a fighting technique, for real," Tigerstorm insisted. "It's also a game -- but listen, we thought about this. What if you can't use your eyes during battle? You need to learn to use your ears, too."

"Sounds like a good idea," Amberspots nodded, but her head was somewhere else.

That, and her stomach was starting to hurt. Maybe whatever Ravenwhisker was giving her to heal that "smoke illness" of hers wasn't working properly. She sighed in annoyance.

"Excuse me, young ones. I have to go see Ravenwhisker now. It seems whatever treatment he's giving me has no effect whatsoever on me, other than this nasty stomachache. Oh, I'll be fine. Just keep practicing, and maybe Coldstar or Mooneye will approve of it afterwards and get you to teach it to everyone. Oh, did Bluefeather come back? She's supposed to get new herbs."

"Oh, yeah. I think she might be?" Tigerstorm hesitated. "I heard her talking to our mother this morning just before dawn, or maybe at night, but I didn't know what it was about, or if I was even really hearing her, and besides, I was too sleepy to really care about greeting her properly. Do you think she's here? Should we go see her?"

She was stepping excitedly in place. Amberspots would have purred if her stomach hadn't suddenly gotten worse at the same time. She made a face, then licked her sides. She felt weak now.

"Would you mind?" she said weakly, and she almost collapsed.

She heard Tigerstorm give a panicked yowl, and felt two pelts against her sides. Then she was helped to walk until she reached the medicine den, where they helped her sit down in a nest. She felt ridiculous for making everyone go through all this trouble.

She felt hot under her fur now, so she shuffled closer to the side of the den and breathed in the deliciously cold leaf-bare wind. She could smell Coldstar's sweet scent from here, and hear her give her orders. Amberspots purred, and Coldstar coincidentally turned to her at the same time and purred, too, with her whiskers happily moving around her muzzle. She was done supervising the patrol-giving now, so she padded back to her mate with a satisfied look in her eyes.

"You've been spending more time training Mooneye these last few moons, just as I've been too sick to come out," Amberspots let out softly as Coldstar snuggled next to her. "I've been thinking that maybe you're preparing her to take over the Clan soon. Am I right? I hope not. You still have a few lives left in you, don't you?"

Coldstar sighed.

"I lost my first life after getting too close to that place where the dogs always bark and claw at you. My second one was lost during that forest fire. I also lost my third one during that fire -- I drowned in the river as I tried to get away. The fourth one was when we had to eat those maggoty rats during that one awful leaf-bare where monsters left stinky goo everywhere, and I said I would taste them first. The fifth one was also because of the river. There were Twolegs, and they threw a stick at me, and I fell off in the water. It's a blessing from StarClan that I live in ThunderClan and not RiverClan, because, well, I don't like that river anymore. The sixth one was in battle, but I'm proud to never have been killed by other cats, at least. I never saw what took my seventh life, but it was probably a fox, or a badger. It attacked me from behind. The eight one -- frostbite. And now, I'm at my last life."

"Frostbite?" Amberspots echoed very softly, and sadly.

Coldstar purred in amusement.

"Would you believe me if I said that I fell into that river again just a few moons ago?"

Amberspots shook her head, and purred, even if her stomach was clenching in sadness and fear. She started to groom her mate's pelt very vigorously. Coldstar was clumsy, but she was resilient, and even if she hadn't been, Amberspots would have loved her anyway. They had been sweet together as leaders: Coldstar, kind and awkward and clumsy, with Amberspots, brash and loud and eager in every domain -- and equally as awkward.

"I'm going to go fight that river," she said loyally, and Coldstar looked amused, but she sighed again.

Amberspots cut her off by licking her muzzle. Was it possible to smother someone in affection so much that they became invincible?

"Whatever herbs my brother gave me are giving me a stomachache," Amberspots complained to cheer her up. "I might just die, too."

She playfully rolled on her back and shot Coldstar a goofy look. Coldstar purred and started to groom her fur. It was matted and full of various things like sticks and bits of dried mud.

"Oh, Amberspots, my love. You ought to groom more often."

"Hey, it's your den that's full of dried mud! Besides, I like to let you do it," she teased, but she meant it.

"You're not wrong. It's pretty nice," Coldstar admitted with her nose in Amberspots's belly fur.

"What am I right about? The dirt, or how nice this is?" Amberspots teased.

"Don't start," Coldstar chided, and she playfully swatted her on the face with her tail.

"I'll start if I want to! You can't order me around," Amberspots huffed.

"I can! I'm the leader."

Amberspots felt too loving to argue. She started to groom her mate's muzzle again.

"They've been calling it a smoke illness. Apparently, that forest fire from so long ago messed up my brain somehow. Can you believe it?"

"Amberspots!" Ravenwhisker called out in annoyance. "It's the only theory we have, and I know you don't like it, but can you at least -- ah, forget it. Bluefeather's back, and she has good news."

Amberspots huffed and refused to move.

"Bah! Good news? I don't believe it. I'm happy here. Coldstar's grooming me. I'm not standing up anytime soon."

She turned her head around. She could see Bluefeather's tortoiseshell pelt from here.

"Hello, young one! What kind of news do you have for us today?"

"Thought you didn't want news," Ravenwhisker grumbled.

"I have to humour the young ones," Amberspots muttered back.

Ravenwhisker rolled his eyes, before curling up on the ground next to his sister and resting his chin on her cozy orange fur.

"I'm worried for you. Just take care of yourself. Or better, let us -- you know, the medicine cats -- take care of you. You can't get better if you refuse treatment."

"Your herbs are giving me a stomachache," Amberspots complained. "And they aren't changing any of my symptoms. I'm just as incoherent and whatnot."

"I don't care. Just take care of yourself, and we'll find something."

"I found new herbs," Bluefeather interrupted, and she put down her bundle of prairie herbs in front of Amberspots.

"Hey, hey, don't give her that," Ravenwhisker protested, and he reached out with a paw to take the bundle. "Now, what do we have here -- ah, well, it's all fresher than we usually have. Good job, Bluefeather. Are there any new ones? New that we haven't documented, I mean."

Bluefeather shuffled around nervously.

"I found this here, but -- it's not really new, it's just a flower. I found a rose. I brought it back. Maybe it's useful."

"We never use flowers. Who knows, maybe I'll use it in a concoction or something. Thank you!"

"Is there anything else you would have me do?" Bluefeather asked eagerly.

Ravenwhisker was very interested in the bundle all of a sudden.

"You can fetch Fernpaw," Ravenwhisker answered without looking at her.

"I'll do that," Bluefeather ended up answering, and she walked off with her tail drooping to the ground.

Ravenwhisker stared after her with compassion in his eyes. He sighed.

"Poor Bluefeather. Here she is, so excited to be a medicine cat again, but it's too late for that now. Fernpaw's a great apprentice, you know. She's soft, sweet, and very patient. Bluefeather was clever, and passionate, but I don't think those are good qualities to have in a medicine cat. She'll do better as a warrior."

"You said she's clever. She's good at foraging and trying new recipes," Amberspots commented.

"Well, no matter. I've been training Fernpaw for a while now. Bluefeather left willingly, and Fernpaw has been dying to ask to be my apprentice for moons, if what Tigerstorm says is true, and it probably is. Now, she finally is. I can tell she doesn't even like warrior training. She'll fit in here. Besides, Bluefeather's falling in love. We can't do that as medicine cats."

"What about you and the RiverClan medicine cat?"

"The ShadowClan medicine cat, Sweetfrost," Coldstar corrected. "RiverClan has a molly."

"Ah. Yes, right. What about him?"

"What about him, indeed?" Ravenwhisker protested, but he started to fiddle with a twig in a very badly-repressed show of shyness.

His treacherous thoughts brought him the vision of his friend, all white with black ear-tips, and soft blue eyes, and such soft, fuzzy fur. He always wanted to lean onto him when they were close together, and they always huddled close when it was time to touch the Moonstone. Woops. Could you blame him, though? Sweetfrost was so very perfect!

"He's got an apprentice, doesn't he?" Amberspots went on with a knowing purr.

"Yes. Frozenhoof. A good young cat," Ravenwhisker answered suspiciously. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, half-moon is soon. You'll bring your new apprentice. And then, you'll bond together. And there we go!" Amberspots exclaimed triumphantly.

"We already bond," Ravenwhisker muttered, even if it wasn't helping his case. "And besides, the warrior code, well, exists."

"Well, no matter. You'll be together in StarClan anyway," Coldstar commented.

"I'm not so old that this serves as reassurance!" Ravenwhisker protested loudly. "But -- but I'll be honest. I wish we came from the same Clan. And -- that we could -- no, forget it."

"We already got what we needed from those bits of sentence alone," Amberspots purred. "Alright, fine, we're helping you, aren't we?"

Coldstar was already racking her brain for an answer. Maybe they would talk things out, and one of them would decide to switch Clans. Was Frozenhoof well-trained enough to -- of course he was! He had his medicine cat name already! She looked at Amberspots. Maybe this plan was too rash, but, well, this never stopped her mate, did it? She licked her fur affectionately.

"Alright, alright. Here's the plan. You tell Sweetfrost about your feelings. You tell him, 'oh, Sweetfrost, I see all the stars of the sky in your eyes', and he says, 'oh, but it cannot be, because I'm from ShadowClan and a medicine cat." And then you say that his apprentice is already a full medicine cat, and that after you're done training yours, you can both retire and go live in whatever Clan you like, but hopefully here, because, well, we love you. How does that sound?"

Amberspots purred giddily. They both turned to Ravenwhisker expectantly. Ravenwhisker cautiously considered it, but something in his heart just wanted to jump in without thinking. Was there a big flaw in this plan he couldn't see? He had to be certain.

"I'll think about it, but this isn't why you're here. Why are you here? Did you hear that Bluefeather was back?"

"No. Actually, I think I almost fainted. I don't know. I felt weak."

Ravenwhisker made a face that was meant to conceal his nervousness. It didn't.

"This smoke illness idea was my last idea. What do we do, then, if -- I mean, I've never seen anything like your case."

"Well, actually, I have symptoms like hers," Coldstar explained impulsively.

She looked at Amberspots, then back at Ravenwhisker.

"Ever since I'm young, I've had these thoughts that some things were cursed, and some paths were cursed, and some words were cursed. It made me do things that didn't seem to make sense, like appear to get lost in the camp itself. It's not a happy sort of illness -- I mean, it's not like coughing. It's rather distressing, actually. Graystar helped me with it. He -- well, he -- maybe I shouldn't say it, but he'll hopefully forgive me if I say it's in the name of medicine. He had it, too."

Amberspots felt encouraged by her confession.

"I have these symptoms, too, but they've gotten better since I -- since I stopped being deputy. But the rest of them appeared: my stomach started to hurt when I was too nervous, or too sad, or too upset, and I started to feel sleepy and heavy when I thought of things that worried me too much. I worry a lot about doing or saying the right thing. It's supposed to be relaxing to be an elder, but I'm not quite relaxed. I'm always expecting something awful to happen."

"Could be the treatment I'm giving you. I'll hold up on the anti-smoke poultices and herbs and all that. What did Graystar do to help you, if I may ask?"

Coldstar shook her head sadly.

"I don't want to talk about it. It was all so long ago, and I've gotten better since then. Maybe I'll tell you later, but not today."

Ravenwhisker nodded.

"Of course. Oh, here's Fernpaw. You don't mind if I tell her, do you?"

Coldstar shook her head.

"Oh, I don't mind at all. Come, now, Amberspots. Let's go back to the leader's den. I left too early this morning."

"You did," Amberspots purred, and she nuzzled into her fur. "Goodbye, Ravenwhisker. We'll see you later."

They left with their tails intertwined. Ravenwhisker purred at the sight of them. He'd never had that kind of relationship with anyone -- well, anyone except perhaps Sweetfrost. He started to wash himself to gather his thoughts.

Coldstar and Amberspots always sat together in the short amount of time during Gatherings where they had nowhere to be, and talked in hushed voices and purred to themselves; when they had to settle somewhere, they snuggled together. He had seen Amberspots randomly bump her head into Coldstar's flank, and she would follow Coldstar everywhere and lick her fur and put her tail on her protectively. He had seen her aggressively defend her mate during battle, even if it was a very mild battle.

He noticed that whenever Coldstar made a joke, or said something silly, she would turn to Amberspots, and purr in satisfaction if she found it funny (and she always did). She talked greatly of his sister whenever she could, and said that she was the greatest warrior ThunderClan had ever known (even if Amberspots didn't want the title). She had been visibly upbeat and giddy during the time they had been leader and deputy together. She always seemed happy about something back then. He had heard Coldstar say very dreamily that she felt like the safest place in the world was by Amberspots's side.

There had been talk in camp that something had happened between the two in the past few moons, but the only thing that had happened was that they both had too much work at the same time. Coldstar had been the first cat Amberspots had talked to about her desire to join the elders' den, and Coldstar had been supportive; she herself had warned her mate that she wouldn't be available for the next few days, or even for a moon. She wanted to finish training Mooneye and make sure there was nothing she hadn't told her about her future duty as leader. She was getting hasty. She had just fallen into a frozen river during a snowfall, after all. It was the beginning of leaf-bare, and the end of leaf-fall. She had been very annoyed, and almost amused, that she had spent the first snow of the season being laughed at by her ancestors for falling into that blasted river again. She couldn't blame them for finding it funny. She was also starting to think that the whole thing was a joke.

Amberspots had licked her pelt, and her muzzle, and gotten her to promise that she would be alright for a while without her, and Coldstar had purred. She liked her protectiveness.

"I love you," Coldstar had said, because it was the truth.

Amberspots was as warm as her pelt suggested; and to Coldstar, whose creamy-white pelt seemed to be a reference to the fact that she just couldn't stop freezing to death or drowning, felt very reassured by it. She was the most amazing cat she had ever known, and she would spend a hundred more lifetimes with her if she could.

"I love you, too," Amberspots had purred, and they had snuggled a little more before Amberspots had gotten up again.

"Be careful with your pads," Coldstar called out after her. "You know they crack in this weather."

"I will!" Amberspots purred back.

They did, in fact, crack. She had been very annoyed about it, so she had gone to see Ravenwhisker, and, well, we know the rest already.

Chapter 32: Where Family Stories are Told

Crowface and Cricketfang never wanted kits, so when the medicine cat broke the news to them that Crowface was pregnant, they had a talk. Crowface felt desperate. She wished there had been a way to get them out somehow, or to stop the process, but there wasn't. They talked about it, and decided that when the kits would be born, they would give them away.

It wasn't very common in Clan culture and history to do that. Brownbelly, Crowface's mother, was very skeptical at it at first, but when Crowface joked that since she was always in the nursery anyway and could just raise them as her own, her mother purred and shook her head.

"Listen, I don't know. It's your choice, but -- well, I -- I don't know. Just make sure the kits are happy, too. And make sure you're happy, too. I know you're doing this because you want to be able to run around freely, and it's true that taking care of kits means that you'll always worry that something happens to them. You might not want to take on that burden."

Her mother turned to her mate, and Leafsong licked her ear before continuing.

"Similar things have happened. I'm sure you don't mean to abandon them -- you want them to have a good life with someone else. And that's good, little one. But the Clan won't see it like that. You know how important family is to everyone."

"We all live in the same Clan anyway," Crowface muttered.

"We want you to be happy. If this makes you happy, then you have our blessing. But have you thought of a family for them?" Leafsong went on.

"Amberspots loves kits," Brownbelly shot in. "She's always purring louder than a thousand monsters when she comes to visit us."

"Do you think she'd adopt them? She doesn't even have a mate," Crowface said critically. "We weren't really planning on giving them to anyone in particular right away. We just thought the kits could choose themselves. I don't know. I'll have to talk about it more with Cricketfang."

This turn of events bothered Crowface quite a lot. She was already planning on dumping them there and running off into the wind to escape her guilt and responsibilities and feel free once more. But choosing them a family -- couldn't the leader do that? She would've liked to just pretend she had gone to sleep in the nursery for a few moons for no reason in particular, then go back to the warriors' den and pretend those kits weren't even there. She just wanted to forget that she was pregnant.

"I'm not ready to be a mother," Crowface begged, and her eyes were full of fear. "I don't even want to give birth. And -- I had things planned with Cricketfang. You know how we like to patrol just the two of us and go foraging in dangerous places. I can't do that with kits. And -- I don't want to have to take care of anyone but myself. It's a heavy burden to be a mother, and I don't want it. I don't want little bundles following me around. As cute as kits are, I don't want my own at all. I didn't even have a choice. Cricketfang and me became mates, and boom! Kits. There's nothing we can do to make them go away, because by the time it starts to show, they're already alive in there. They'll arrive in a few moons, and I'm scared. I don't want to abandon them, but I really don't want kits. It'll throw my life upside down. Please, will you take them? Will you settle it for me?"

Her parents looked at each other with pity in their eyes, then reached out to give her comforting licks on the face.

"We'll take care of it. Don't worry."

She was scared of the day where she would give birth, and Cricketfang was just as nervous as she was. He licked her face, and her ear, and promised that he would be there and that he would make sure that she was comfortable, and that she didn't hurt, and that if she asked for something, he would bring it to her right away. When the contractions started, he helped her lay down, and curled-up next to her. He was warm against her cold, feverish forehead.

"This'll hurt like fire. I don't want to do this, you know. But -- why does it make kits after these things happen? What if it makes kits every time? What will we do now?"

"I don't know," Cricketfang admitted in a tearful voice, and he was panicking, because he hated to see her hurt.

"I'll be alright," Crowface promised to soothe him. "Just stay here and curl up next to me, will you?"

"I will," Cricketfang promised.

She trued to crack jokes through it all. It helped with the pain, and it made Cricketfang purr a little. Luckily, there were only two kids. Neither of them was black and white: one was bright orange, and the other one was tortoiseshell-and-white. She felt vaguely disappointed that neither of them really looked like her, then told herself that she was being a fool. As they nestled against her belly, she rested her head against Cricketfang's flank, and admitted in a desperate voice that she didn't know what to do anymore.

"It's not that I hate kits. I never have. But -- we were so sure, and now, I don't know. I bled for these things, but -- I don't know what to do anymore. I mean, I have birth to them. I'm their mother. I love them, but I can't keep them. I know I can't take care of them. It would be too hard. I can't do it. But -- look at them. They're so soft, and tiny, and vulnerable. They don't even know that I'm going to give them away. They just --"

She felt heartbroken. If cats could cry, she would be crying.

"I don't want to give them away, but I can't take care of them, and you didn't want to have kits either. It's like having given birth to them changes something. I would've liked if one of them looked more like me, but -- oh, what's wrong with me? We planned this out already, but now that we're here, I'm doubting everything."

"If you want to keep them," Cricketfang started, but she knew that he hadn't planned on having kits either, and wasn't sure of it. "I mean, I don't know if I'm ready to be a father, either."

"We decided already, didn't we?" Crowface sighed. "We talked this out. I can't keep them if you won't, either. I just -- I mean, look at these things. Will you remind me again why we decided not to keep them?"

Cricketfang sighed and licked her head.

"Before I do that, I'll admit that I'm terrified. I felt better knowing we wouldn't keep them. I like how we're living our life together, and now that they're here, I see you love them, but -- I mean, I don't know. We never even talked about having kits beforehand. We aren't ready, I think. And if you want to keep them, then I don't know what I'll do. There really isn't any space in my life for that. But I love you, and -- I don't know. I don't want us to change our mind. I just -- I mean, you look so heartbroken, but I'm just not ready for kits, so I don't know what we'll do if you want them and I don't."

Crowface licked his ear.

"Oh, Cricketfang. I don't want to lose you. I know how you felt about this whole thing. I don't want to let you down. We'll give them up. These kits, I don't know them, and I've loved you for ages. I just -- I don't know. They've barely been here, and I already love them. But I'm terrified of changing my mind on something I had already decided."

"No, I'll stay. I'll just -- if we keep them, I'll probably be a very bad father, that's all. I love you too much to let you go. This I just a lot to take in. I can't ask you to let them go if it'll break your heart, but I can't lose you either, so I'll stay with you and the kits if you want me to do it. The only problem would be to tell your mother."

Crowface looked at him. She didn't know if she was sad or happy.

"Oh, but kits, Cricketfang! Kits! It'll be so hard, and we'll need to -- oh, I'm not sure. I didn't expect to love them so much, but now that you're giving me the option --"

"Hey, it's a big decision. Take your time," Cricketfang soothed, and he started to wash her face.

She looked at the two little bundles suckling on her. They vaguely looked like cats, but made of cotton.

"They always say that parenthood is a lot of fun, and that they love their kits, but as soon as you talk to a parent directly, all they'll say is that it's hard, and they're tired of cleaning up, and they're sleepy, and they're annoyed at their kits. I don't want to give them that kind of life, but if they say it's hard -- I mean, I've taken care of kits before. As an apprentice, you know? And some days, it was -- I mean, I hated it. I was happy to see them, but some days, when I had to get up very early, I cried. It just -- I was so exhausted. I barely even -- it's exhausting."

Cricketfang paused.

"It's not -- I'm not ready for kits at all. But we ought to sleep on it. It's all too nerve-wracking for the both of us, and especially you."

She closed her eyes.

"Hey, it's alright. I know it's a big decision, but it isn't life or death. We'll be alright," Cricketfang soothed as she fell asleep.

He looked at the kits, but not too long. He didn't want to get attached. He kept looking at his mate instead. She was beautiful, he thought. More beautiful than anyone else in the Clan. He started to groom her pelt. Crowface was exhausted, he told himself, and he was going to take care of her.

They didn't outwardly decide anything right away, but in their minds, adoption became a better option every day that passed. Eventually, the kits learned how to talk, and as they opened their eyes, they started to babble and ask questions. It was cute, they had to admit it, but the sooner they became fully-functional, they would drop them off. They were very excited about everything. It was already tiring to listen to their incessant talk.

"No more talk," Crowface would find herself begging, and she would exchange a look with Cricketfang that meant "murder me already."

She shooed them outside, but they didn't want to leave. She grumbled.

"Kits, listen to Crowface," Cricketfang ordered helpfully.

The red kit looked very sad, but the tortoiseshell one pushed her outside anyway.

"Mum doesn't like us," the red kit said very softly as they were outside of the nursery.

They walked face-first into a bush. The red kit let out a wail. This was too much for her tiny little heart to bear. She didn't want to be in a bush. The tortie kit looked around in panic.

"Mum?" she called. "Mum? Help! Dad?"

The Clan leader herself appeared out of nowhere instead.

"Oh, dear, what seems to be the issue?" she let out in her soft, kind voice.

They immediately felt the instinctual need to shuffle closer. This huge white cat seemed nice. Everyone seemed huge, of course.

"My sister's upset!" the tortie confessed, and she started to cry, too. "Now she'll cry forever!"

"Oh, little one," Coldstar said sadly. "What's your name?"

"I don't know. Mum didn't give us names!" the red kit explained, and she started to cry again.

Coldstar opened her eyes wide.

"You're not supposed to cry! And now, everyone will be upset!"

"You're always allowed to cry," Coldstar protested, bewildered.

"But then mum doesn't love us!"

Coldstar felt so horrified and flabbergasted that her composure exploded into bits. Those weren't things a kit ought to be saying.

"Mum loves us!" the tortie argued.

The red kit sniffed and refused to argue.

"But dad doesn't," the tortie agreed, and it seemed to soothe her sister to agree on something.

"Dad doesn't. I'm going to bite him," the red kit decided.

"I'm going to bite you!" the tortie shot back, and she bit her ear and tried to roll around and play, but her sister started to cry again, so she stopped and sniffed at her gingerly.

"Oh, little ones. Come. I'll show you to a good friend of mine. He'll take a good look at you."

"But mum's still in there! And -- and --" the red kid stammered. "Mum!"

"What's your mum's name?"

The kits shrugged.

"I don't know if it's Crowface or Mousefoot," the tortie admitted. "Is that bad?"

"Is mum in trouble?" the red kit fretted. "Did we do something wrong? Is she going to cry?"

"You're not in trouble, little ones. Now, come with me. I'll get you to see my friend, and then, we'll go talk to another friend of mine. We'll give you names, alright?"

"I don't want a name," the red kit muttered.

"Well, I want one!" the tortie shot back over her.

Coldstar walked with them and helped them when they stumbled on the soft ground under their tiny little paws that were still clumsy and as rigid as sticks.

"Don't stumble!" the tortie hissed in worry.

"Shut up!" the red one shot back, and they both turned to the leader in fear.

"Come, come. We're almost there," Coldstar said softly, bewildered.

"Hurry!" the tortie pressed, and she pushed her sister with her nose, but the red one plopped herself down and started to cry again.

"No! I'm tired of walking! I don't want to move and I want to go back to mum."

Coldstar looked at them. They were so very tiny, and so very upset. She gently picked up the red kit in her jaws.

"No!" the tortie cried. "Put her down!"

"I'm alright!" the red kit called back.

"I don't like it!" the tortie rasped anyway. "Give me my sister!"

"We're almost there and I'm tired of walking!"

"But we're almost there! So walk with me!"

"No! This is nice."

Then they realized that by the time they were done arguing, they had arrived. A very tall black cat came out of the strange new den looking completely bewildered. He was walking so fast that the kits were scared.

"Give them here. Thank you. Oh dear, here we go. I hope they weren't malnourished. Oh, this is all a mess. You can give kits for adoption without being a fool about it. Come here, kits. I'm the medicine cat. That means I can help soothe all your little hurts. Does anything feel bad? Sometimes, your stomach can hurt. Does it do that?"

"My paw hurts," the red kit admitted pathetically, and she raised her little paw.

"Oh, you poor thing. Come here, then."

They gingerly followed the black cat into the den. Luckily, the white cat was still nearby, so they didn't feel too scared.

"Amberspots told me," Ravenwhisker explained hurriedly.

He looked incredibly nervous.

"This is all nonsense. Should've just -- ah, what am I saying? I don't know what giving birth feels like. Maybe she didn't want to -- oh, who knows. She might have been too scared. Who knows? Who knows! Where's Cricketfang? Oh, dear. StarClan protect me. I hate all of this. I really hate all of this. It's not every day something like this happens. Stars above, I wasn't ready for anything like this. What do I do?"

"Ravenwhisker, it's alright," Coldstar soothed, and her voice was very relaxing, so he felt a little better. "It's alright. You just make sure they're fine. I'll go see if I can fetch Amberspots."

"What for? To give them names? To feed them? To make sure I panic less? Because I'm panicking a lot and it would be very nice!"

"I'll get her. Please breathe. I know you're breathing, but you don't sound like you are, and it's making me nervous."

"I know how yo breathe! I'm a medicine cat! And I need to calm down before these poor things get scared. Alright, I'm fine. Woo."

Amberspots appeared without anyone having left to get her, and she dropped the rabbit that she was holding and swatted her brother's face.

"WHY ARE YOU PANICKING?" she screeched playfully, and it made him purr, because, well, she was here, and she was joking around, and it made everything seem fine again.

"Alright, fine, I'm fine. It's fine."

"Well, quit panicking," Amberspots shrugged, and she sat down and started to groom herself.

Then she spotted the tiniest head she had ever seen poking from between her brother's paws, and her eyes lit up.

"KITTENS!" she howled. "Kittens! Tiny kittens! StarClan be blessed! Tiny kittens! Look at them! Oh, I'm so sorry, little ones. I've been very loud. Hello! Who are you? You're so tiny and precious! Look at you!"

She crawled closer and sniffed their little heads.

"Hello," she let out again, hoping that they would like her. "I'm Amberspots."

She decided to groom them. They were so cute that she started to purr. Their little heads were all wet now, and it made them feel very confused, but it wasn't to bad.

"Hello, hello," she let out again, and she pressed them very tightly against her. "Hello!"

The red kit closed her eyes. The tortie kit looked very suspicious, then raised her tiny little muzzle and licked Amberspots' nose with a tongue the size of a claw. Amberspots only purred louder.

"Ravenwhisker, look, it's tiny kittens. Tiny little kittens. I'm stealing them. They're my kittens. Am I allowed to? Should I do that?"

"Those are Cricketfang and Crowface's kits," Ravenwhisker explained.

"Did they do something bad?" the tortie exploded in frustration.

"Shush!" the red kit grumbled.

"Did they ever talk to you about --" Ravenwhisker started, before exchanging a look with his friends.

Nobody said anything.

"I see. I'll talk to them," Coldstar said.

The kits started to get drowsy, and before long, they were fast asleep. Amberspots purred and washed them some more, before curling up tighter against them. They seemed to like how poofy her fur was, and how warm her skin was underneath.

"Hey, I was wondering. Why did Graystar stay leader for so little time? What happened to his nine lives? I mean, he was young and healthy, wasn't he?"

Ravenwhisker shook his head.

"That's confidential. But you're right, he was. Well, he wasn't that young. He was our age, wasn't he? Or a little younger."

"A little younger, yeah," Amberspots' agreed. "You liked him a lot?"

Ravenwhisker purred quietly to himself.

"I did. I really did. I did what I could, but -- well, that's still confidential. And us medicine cats aren't StarClan. We can't save everyone with the limited knowledge that we have. That's what my mentor told me when Yellowstar started to get worse. He couldn't do anything for her. It was awful, but he told me that those things happened sometimes. I'm sure he would say the same thing about himself, too. Oh, but I'm alright now. He had a good life. He told me he was proud of me."

Ravenwhisker sniffed at the kits.

"They haven't given them any names. I suppose that means they've made up their mind. Who will take them, do you think?" he asked softly.

"I can stay with them in the nursery," Amberspots offered. "I don't have milk, but I'm sure there's at least one other nursing queen in there. But I don't know about-- ah, what am I talking about? There's enough cats talking about not wanting to be parents for me to join them. I'll take them."

"You always come back bloody and sore from fights. You'll need to cool down so you don't scare them," Ravenwhisker teased.

"I like them. I'm keeping them. That's how it is," Amberspots protested stubbornly. "I mean, look at them. Aren't they adorable? Maybe you'll think it's silly, but -- well, this red one, it kind of looks like me."

"It just might," Ravenwhisker commented distractedly.

It turned out that Crowface and Cricketfang were discussing who to give them to as Coldstar walked in the nursery. They had been considering their options, as they told Coldstar, but ultimately found the task too exhausting for them.

"We waited until they didn't need milk anymore, and their teeth have grown now. We'll give them away before the sun goes down. Their new parents can give them names. We don't -- I know the Clan doesn't understand," Crowface begged. "I know they don't like it, but I was hoping at least some of us understood that we can't do it. It's more important to have a loving family than for it to be blood. They'll be happier like this."

"Everyone knows that raising a kit is hard work," Cricketfang said tentatively. "We've thought about it. She's thought about it. We're not exactly happy about it, but we're still a bit relieved. This isn't fun for us either."

"I've only been a warrior since last greenleaf," Crowface adds. "I'm too young to be a mother. I have things I want to do in my life. Keeping them would just make us miserable, and they wouldn't be happy either. We've talked about it. I thought I could do it for a while, but as I saw them, I knew I couldn't force them into my life like that. Not if I couldn't take care of them. So they're going away in someone else's care. I'm not too happy. If they had come later in my life, then I might have chosen differently, but they haven't. It's too early. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is. And Cricketfang has been brave enough to agree with me. It's not an easy decision, but it's the right one. I can't do this, Coldstar. I was desperate when I learned of my pregnancy. I felt relieved to know we could give them away. I didn't like that I wanted to keep them when I saw them for the first time. I don't want to feel forced to do it. It's been moons now, and our decision is made."

"It's not that she doesn't care about them. It's the opposite," Cricketfang agreed. "Listen, she didn't even want to give them away after giving birth. We considered keeping them, and we did, for longer than we had to. But in the end, it was her choice, and I'll follow her in it."

"We're not keeping them. We'll leave the naming and the grooming and the training to someone else. I don't want to have anything to do with them. I gave them away to be free of the responsibility, and I know they'll be well-taken care of. I'm not their mother anymore, and it'll stay this way."

She looked away. She wasn't too happy, but it was true. She had meant what she had said, but it still broke her heart a little, more than she cared to admit. Coldstar nodded and left, and after she was gone, they went into the forest to talk in private.

"For a while, I was angry. I thought I would keep them, if only you wanted them. But when I told you about it, you said you'd raise them with me if I asked you too, even if you didn't want to and you didn't know how. But I told myself that this wasn't what they deserved. We're too young to raise them. We don't know anything about life in general. We've barely been to any Gatherings. None of our friends even have mates yet"

"But you're still sad," Cricketfang said softly, and he licked her ear.

"Of course I am. I suppose I love them, even if I shouldn't. And I don't blame you for not wanting to keep them, either. We're both so young. I just hope it hasn't scared you away. Giving birth really wasn't something I expected us to go through this soon."

He licked her cheek lovingly.

"No, it hasn't."

"Is it normal that it hurts? Even if I know it's better for everyone, I -- it hurts. And I know I decided it myself, and it was my idea in the first place to give them away, I can't help but wish you had asked me to keep them. But maybe I'll be a mother later in life. I don't know. Oh, this is all strange. I feel so much older than I really am. I'm no mother. You're no father. But would've been happy to raise kits with you. Maybe we'll try again later in life. Maybe it'll end more happily next time around. I don't expect I'll like giving birth anymore than I did this time, though," she joked.

Cricketfang purred, but his eyes were sad.

"I can't wake up in the middle of the night for them. I can't just devote myself day and night. It's just too much work. I can't do it. And I know you feel the same way. You hated walking them out to go do their business. You hated how cold it was. You hated being awakened by cries," Crowface went on, and she licked her mate's cheek. "You hated it, too, and it's why you didn't want them. It's nice when it's calm, but when it's not, it becomes awful. Heart-clenchingly awful. Neither of us can support it. That's why we walked away. I have to remind myself that it's right. That it's better for us. We wouldn't have lasted long."

They slumped over each other and stayed there. Coldstar named them Tigerkit and Bluekit. They didn't get involved much after that, which is why Crowface had been surprised when Bluefeather accosted her by the warriors' den several hours before dawn as she was going to do her business.

"Hi," Bluefeather tried, and she dragged her paw through the mud. "I've been away from camp for a while, and it made me think. You and dad gave us away when we were small. Me and Tigerstorm, I mean. Was there a reason? Did we ever do something wrong?"

Her eyes were full of sadness.

"We've talked about it already," Crowface said in a calculated tone.

"Only to say that you didn't want kits, but you never said why, and you never said what dad thought."

"Listen," Crowface started. "I might have given birth to you, but that doesn't make me your mother. Whoever took care of you should have the title, not me. I don't want it. We gave you away because we weren't ready for kits, and you were well-taken care of. This is where our paths diverge. I've moved on. Maybe you should, too."

"Amberspots took care of us," Bluefeather said cooly.

"We don't have a different bond than normal Clanmates do, and I'd like to keep it this way. I didn't want kits, and I still don't want any now. Consider me a Clanmate."

"And dad? Is this how he felt?"

"It is. He argued to give you when I hesitated, and it was the best decision of my life. We were young. Cats with you and I's age difference can end up mating together. We didn't know what we were doing, and I've seen enough parents be dissatisfied with their kits not to want to be part of them. So I gave you away, and frankly, I think you should thank me, because you had a better life away than you could have had, had you stayed with me. So, goodbye. Or rather, see you on patrol. You're a good Clanmate, and that's all I ought to feel for you. You're not my kit -- I gave you away. So move on. I did."

"Maybe I will," Bluefeather nodded. "I'll thank you, then. I was happy. I still am. I just wish you'd told me this sooner."

"You never asked."

Bluefeather didn't know what else to say.

"Goodbye, then."

Crowface nodded, and both her and Bluefeather went on their way. Bluefeather saw her sister snuggling with Beavertail, and in a moment of fondness provoked by her shuffling memories, she curled up next to her sister and shoved her nose in her fur. She felt like crying, but she also felt freed.

Chapter 33: Breaking the Code

To excuse them from the meeting, Coldstar said that she had woken up too early, but they weren't sleeping at all. They were grooming each other, and talking.

"Do you remember when I launched a game of Mouse at the gathering?" Amberspots purred.

"All I remember was trying to catch up to you so we would at least be caught red-pawed together. Oh, everyone was so angry."

"Were they? I remember the elders having fun. The elders, and Saltstar, of course. Saltstar is a very happy tom."

Coldstar purred.

"I wonder if he still remembers."

"I'm sure he does. Everyone remembers "

"It's not exactly an exploit," Coldstar muttered.

"Ah, come on. Don't tell me you're getting shy in your old age," Amberspots teased. "I'm sure nobody really minds."

"I wish I could have your confidence."

Amberspots licked her ear.

"Yeah, you do."

Coldstar purred more loudly.

"I'm happy we became mates," Amberspots added after a while. "And I'm still bitter that Ravenwhisker didn't let me go back for you during the fire. But I did pull you out."

"I don't think you would have even seen me underneath all those ashes. How did you even manage to pull me out?"

"I was looking for you. Apparently, I wasn't quick enough," she added sadly.

"You stayed with me throughout my recovery, and didn't say anything when I became scared of fire. That was very kind of you."

Amberspots licked her mate's face again.

"That's too gloomy," she protested, and she washed her face until she was satisfied with the state of it. "You know, we're old, but we still -- this is the worst sentence I've ever made. Let me try again. We're happy now, aren't we?"

"Who's ever truly happy in a Clan? All we do is fight and survive."

Amberspots pressed her head into Coldstar's neck fur stubbornly.

"No, we're happy," she affirmed. "With every new generation comes more and more changes that will make life better for all of us. Isn't that nice to think about?"

Coldstar sighed.

"Sometimes, I wonder if being born a house cat wouldn't have been better."

"What's wrong with you, dear?" Amberspots fretted.

"I don't know. I suppose it's temporary. I thought of how you took care of Tigerstorm and Bluefeather when they were little. Then of Yellowstar, and all the elders from way back then. Maybe I've been thinking too much about the bad. What good things happened to our friends?"

"Well," Amberspots started happily, and she settled more comfortably against her mate, "remember how I used to talk about my mother's new mate rather negatively? Well, it fixed itself. Goes to show how things can change when you put your mind to it."

She used to accuse him of being absent, and didn't understand why her mother or the Clan liked him so much and thought he was such a good mate. That was before hearing her mother tell the tale of their love story.

Breezetail's first mate had been dead for a while. She was sad, and stayed in camp most of the time, tending to her kits and thinking about how they would become warriors soon. He wouldn't be there to see it, she thought sadly.

She was slumped down in front of a sparrow she had no wish to eat when Bloomhen plopped himself down in front of her.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. "I'm sorry, but I just came back from patrol, and I really felt like eating one of those, but it seems you took the last one. Can we trade? I have a couple of mice here. Very plumpy, appetizing mice. Yum yum."

He wiggled then in front of her face. Breezetail couldn't help but purr.

"I'd be happy to share, but I don't think I could eat all of that," Breezetail replied.

Bloomhen's big, bright eyes lightened, and he pushed one of the mice towards her.

"Well, then, here's a plump, appetizing mouse for you. Yum yum."

Breezetail purred again and bit into the mouse. It was indeed very plumpy, and seemed more appetizing now that he was here, and that she felt a little happier. She realized that she hadn't washed herself in a while. Did she smell bad? For some reason, she started to feel a little more confident about herself, despite all of that. She was still young. Her life wasn't over already. How long ago had she last eaten with friends?

She looked at Bloomhen and his fuzzy prawn pelt that looked like a branch caught on fire, and his big blue eyes that were always alight with happiness somehow. Why was she looking at him? She had no business doing that. She was grieving. How long had she been grieving for, again? she asked herself treacherously. How old had the kits been? No matter. She still had no business thinking those things.

"You seem to be in a good mood," she noticed a little more cheerfully than she had felt before he had come to sit with her.

"Oh, let me tell you, we found the biggest --"

He fiddled for words. She looked at him eagerly. Biggest badger hole? Biggest crow nest? Biggest tree? Biggest rock?

"-- the biggest -- biggest -- ah, how do I say it? It was an animal. Yes, a sheep, it was a sheep! You know, those fluffy cloud animals? This one was completely round. It looked very annoyed to have so much fur. It was white, but also green, because it had run around in the forest for a while. I wanted to go see it, but I was on patrol, so I couldn't. I hope nothing's eaten it, but then again, with that much fur, I doubt even a badger could claw at it properly."

Bloomhen bit into his meal giddily.

"I'm going to go see if it's still there after mealtime is over. Would you like to come with me?"

Breezetail nodded before she could even properly think about it. She felt her stomach sink. Running around in the forest would be hard after moons of inactivity, but she really wanted to see the sheep, too. Bloomhen made it sound like a delightful expedition.

She was in the middle of asking herself why she suddenly felt so shy and embarrassed and too warm under her pelt when she noticed that Bloomhen had put his head on his paws and was looking at her thoughtfully.

"What is it?" she asked, and she heard herself stammer.

"Well, nothing. But, um. You haven't shared tongues with anyone in a while, and it's time for that now. I mean -- you know. Then we can go. You know, see the sheep."

He looked at her very nervously.

"I smell stinky," was Breezetail's first reply, and it earned her a loud purr that she felt overly happy to hear.

"Not for long!" Bloomhen boomed, and he shuffled next to her and started to groom her.

She couldn't help but feel both shy and very pleased at it; and when they were done and it was time to see the sheep, they found that it was still there, and looked completely lost. Bloomhen went to sniff it. The sheep didn't like that and ran off.

"Oh," Bloomhen said dejectedly. "It doesn't like me."

His tail was drooping to the ground most adorably. She gave him a headbutt after deciding that giving his face a couple of licks would be too much.

"You just need to come back and see it again. Then it'll get used to you. It's like kits."

It was indeed just like what would happen with her kits soon enough.

"I'm no good with kits, either," Bloomhen confessed sheepishly. "They don't seem to like me. Maybe I'm too loud."

"Oh, I'm sure they don't dislike you. It's as I said: they're just not used to you yet. I mean, I'm assuming."

He looked at Breezetail and found her to be very pretty and soft. He couldn't believe that she had put her face in his shoulder like that. He might just faint.

"That's pretty wise," he said quietly, then searched for a way to make a joke, but couldn't find anything to say except the truth. "It was nice to search for the sheep with you. Maybe you'd like to patrol together sometimes, or just go around the forest with me."

He froze there, awaiting her reply. Had he really been so bold?

"I mean, I'm sorry. I know about your mate and all," he backtracked. "I just thought it would be nice. I don't know."

She shrugged. She was also rather frozen in place. She didn't want to betray the kits like that, and she didn't know what her mother would have said. Was she moving on too fast? Had she properly grieved? Was everything happening too soon? Was she ready? Was she betraying -- him?

Still, she couldn't deny that today had been like a breath of fresh air. She had gotten out of camp, purred with a friend, and eaten a full meal. She has even washed! And the exercise was nice. She felt like running around some more now.

"I don't, um, I don't know yet. But it was nice! Very nice. Um. Maybe we'll, uh. Maybe we'll do it again someday. I don't know. But we can be -- well, at least better friends? For now?"

"Yes! Yes, I'd, um, I'd like that," Bloomhen said brightly.

She looked at Bloomhen and felt a warm rush of fondness in her heart for him.

"I kind of feel like running around some more," Breezetail confessed with a purr. "Come with me?"

Bloomhen purred.

"Of course!"

They ended up running all the way back to camp -- not in a straight line, but passing through roots and rocks and fun places to mess around in. When they came back, Breezetail felt young and happy and energetic again.

"Is that Breezetail purring at someone?" said Blueheart in the elders' den.

"Is that your butt?" Staggerlily replied, because she was in a grumpy mood.

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Why do I even visit you?" Yellowstar purred teasingly.

"Because we're sisters," Staggerlily replied uselessly.

"You're not really thinking of not visiting us anymore, are you?" Blueheart fretted.

"No!" Yellowstar protested.

"Shut up, Blueheart," Staggerlily huffed. "She's obviously teasing."

Blueheart shrugged.

"Don't be rude," she mumbled sadly.

"You made her sad!" Yellowstar protested, and she gave Blueheart's face a couple of frantic licks. "What have you done?"

"I don't -- I was -- don't cry!"

Blueheart put her head on her paws and shrugged.

"What were we even talking about?" Yellowstar echoed.

"This! Look!" Staggerlily hissed. "Look at this! Breezetail's happy with someone!"

"That's nice," Blueheart said tentatively.

"Yes, it's very nice. I'm sorry! Don't cry!" Staggerlily whined. "You're just a little tiny kitten. You can't be sad! Then we're sad!"

"We're all the same age," Yellowstar protested.

"No! Tiny little kitten!" Staggerlily grumbled protectively. "Tiny kitten that we need to protect."

"I have a mate and kits! He's right there! And Coldyarrow's over there!" Blueheart exclaimed with a purr.

Staggerlily made a face.

"No, you're a kitten," she pouted stubbornly.

Blueheart purred.

"Okay," she agreed peacefully.

"I didn't see anything. What's happening with Breezetail?" Yellowstar interrupted.

"Oh, you'll see. Someone always ends up telling us everything," Staggerlily grumbled. "Besides, if they become mates --"

"Breezetail came back to camp purring," Blueheart cut her off to explain. "She was purring, and she got out of camp, and she was with Bloomhen."

"Well, I don't doubt that. I hear Bloomhen's funny," Yellowstar said very mildly.

"Yellowstar!" Blueheart protested. "I think it's adorable."

"I think there's nothing happening," Yellowstar replied.

"Well," Blueheart muttered discontentedly. "If something ends up happening, we'll know about it."

"Yeah, Yellowstar. She's grieved her mate for a long time. Who says she isn't falling in love with someone else?"

"She might be! I just don't want to spread rumours. She's been grieving for so long. If word gets out, she might get upset."

"Bah," Staggerlily yawned. "Whatever."

"Besides, you're not visiting us. You live here," Blueheart added.

"It's been two days. It doesn't count."

"That's about the number of days Graystar was a ThunderClan warrior before you made him deputy! And now, he's the leader? Did he even have an apprentice? Does it count if it was in RiverClan? How old is this kitten? You're not even dead!" Staggerlily exploded, exasperated.

"Well, I can't lead anymore. I can't even walk, or run, or --"

She decided not to tell anyone about her worse days, where she couldn't even eat on her own. The medicine cat said that she was slowly losing control of her body, and she didn't want to do that anywhere but in the comfort of the elders' den.

"Graystar's been kind enough to me, and to all of us. I like him. He'll be a good leader."

"If you say so, but he's awfully young. He's about as young as my little Coldyarrow over there," Blueheart purred with a nod to her daughter.

Staggerlily started to purr. She desperately wanted to add that she had noticed how little Ravenpaw was making eyes at the new leader.

"You tell an old molly all your secrets, little one," she had croaked secretively as the apprentice medicine cat had passed over her to check for ticks.

"Well, I like him. He's very caring, and brave, and -- I mean, look how he's been taking care of Yellowstar! He doesn't even know her, but it's like she's his mother. And I think it's very brave to change Clans like that. Nobody else would've done it. I'm glad to hear that she's taking him as her deputy. It's awfully sad, though -- her retirement, I mean, not that he'll be deputy. But she'll still have many long years ahead of her, I'm sure. We'll make sure of that."

Staggerlily had heard all she needed to hear to know that this poor kitten was hopelessly in love. She thought it was very adorable, which is part of why she was so exasperated when he brought a molly and two kits to ThunderClan one day. First, it was just one kit, and that was fine. Everyone was very curious. But then, apparently, there was a molly and a second kit back in RiverClan that he wanted to bring in, too. Staggerlily didn't care that they were RiverClan. She cared because she had hoped that little Ravenpaw -- now Ravenwhisker -- could find someone for him. It wasn't against the medicine cat code, as long as kits wouldn't be a problem, right? That's what she thought, at least.

"Are you kidding me?" she rasped to Blueheart. "That poor -- I mean, I -- I mean, come on! I thought it was cute, but he's got a mate. Blast it all."

"He'll hear you," Blueheart shushed her.

She was talking about Graystar, but Ravenwhisker was right there behind them, too. He looked like he was trying not to let show how heartbroken he was. His voice was very quiet.

"Hey, he brought his mate and their kits to live here. That's also very brave. If he loves them, then we should accept them in the Clan. It's what Yellowstar would have wanted. Besides, he's the leader. It's not like anyone can scold him for what he does."

"We can. We're elders!" Staggerlily rasped, but her normally irate meow softened when she talked to Ravenwhisker. "Listen, kit, you don't worry about it. We'll figure something out. You come back this mealtime to see us, and we'll talk. Alright?"

Ravenwhisker nodded. He didn't seem particularly eager, but then again, he wasn't very eager at all these past few days. He slumped away sadly.

"This poor kit. I'm more angry than he is, apparently," Staggerlily humpfed.

"That's just the general truth of life," Blueheart teased, and it made her purr.

"Who else is falling in love? Give me other stories. Ones that end well, mind you, not this nonsense."

"Well, there's Breezetail and Bloomhen."

"That's old news," she shrugged. "New ones!"

"I don't know!" Blueheart exclaimed. "Let's just --"

"What about Amberspots?" Staggerlily interrupted.

"Hasn't she -- she's never taken a mate!"

"She doesn't like anyone?" Staggerlily insisted.

"Not that I know of," Blueheart shrugged.

She loyally decided not to say that her poor Coldyarrow had been talking about how amazing Amberspots' fighting skills were, and how confident and loud and explosive she was, and how good with kits, too, and how incredibly brave, and selfless, and beautiful and smart and perfect.

"Bah," Staggerlily groaned. "Who else is there?"

"Brownbelly and Leafsong are having kittens," Blueheart provided.

"Don't we all," Staggerlily huffed.

"Well, you asked for new love stories!"

"It's not new! It's their -- what, second litter? Third? How long has it been?"

"Well, see now, Breezetail and Bloomhen got together around the time Amberspots became a warrior. And Brownbelly already liked Leafsong a lot by then. So, well, she became a warrior shortly after Amberspots. That means it's -- yeah, you're right, it's about as old as Bloomhen and Breezetail."

"You're talking about it like all of this didn't just happen a few moons ago."

"Pfah!" Blueheart muttered. "Whatever. I'm tired anyway. It's nap time."

"It's always nap time," Staggerlily grumbled, but she went to sleep anyway.

The first time Ravenwhisker went to the Moonstone after their death, he wasn't very enthusiastic. He missed them already -- Staggerlily's croaky meow, and Blueheart's quiet purrs. He had mourned them for a long time. He still could barely believe it. But it was half-moon, and he had to go, so he did go. It didn't help that he had other bad news to share with his colleagues.

"Our leader is dead," he said.

"Graystar?" Pearlshade, who had always been old as far as he could remember, protested immediately. "Why?"

He couldn't just say that since Yellowstar had still been alive by the time he became leader, he hadn't gotten his nine lives. He had gotten slammed by a badger, and hadn't gotten up. Ravenwhisker only shook his head. It still hurt to talk about it. He didn't even want to think back to it at all.

"Coldstar's our new leader now. Whitewhisker's our deputy," he added.

Personally, he would have gotten Amberspots to do the job, but she wasn't done training Twilightpaw yet, so she wasn't eligible. Besides, she was a bit too intense for most cats' taste. That's why she hadn't gotten an apprentice before a few moons ago. Ravenwhisker thought that it was ridiculous, but it was none of his business.

"Can we go on now?" he let out tearfully.

Sweetfrost hadn't really gotten most of that, given that he was deaf and Ravenwhisker hadn't exactly spoken clearly, but he was still looking at his friend with compassion in his blue eyes. He headbutted him. Ravenwhisker felt so sad that he didn't mind, and even returned it by burying his face in Sweetfrost's shoulder.

"He was so young. And he had a mate, and kits. He couldn't even say goodbye. It's not fair. He should still be here."

This time, Sweetfrost understood absolutely none of it, so he turned to everyone else in confusion. Someone somehow explained using gestures.

"How long ago was it?" he asked softly.

"Two -- not so long ago," Ravenwhisker caught himself before admitting, and he sighed. "I had to come. My apprentice -- she hasn't seen -- well, it's her first time coming with us."

"What apprentice?" Pearlshade protested, surprised.

Pearlshade had taken on the habit of poking Sweetfrost in the ear whenever she talked. Sweetfrost was vaguely annoyed, but it made him purr. At least, he could turn around in time. She was nice, he thought. He called her "mum" sometimes when he wasn't paying attention.

"The bouncy one with the blue eyes," Sweetfrost replied, and he pointed to where Bluepaw was indeed running around and jumping, trying to catch a moth and ooh-ing at the moonlit plains under them.

Ravenwhisker purred. She ended up catching it in her paws, and trying to lick at it, but she got scared when it wobbled around angrily and let it go. Moths were too big. She didn't like them. She ran back to her mentor nervously, and he purred some more and gave her muzzle a couple of soothing licks.

"Hi, Bluepaw. How are you finding your first trip to the Moonstone?" Sweetfrost said softly.

Bluepaw was too shy to answer at first.

"Everything is bigger than I thought, and I never go out at night."

"Well, you might lose your mentor in this light, but you won't lose me," Sweetfrost joked.

He was indeed very white. Bluepaw thought that their pelts were opposites -- well, almost opposites. Mostly opposites, she decided. She purred.

"Are you tired?" Ravenwhisker asked.

"I'm hungry. I wish I had eaten that moth. Can we go there fast so we can come back faster and finally eat? Fasting stinks. I'm too hungry. I'm starving."

Tigerpaw would've agreed, she thought. Maybe she would share something with Twilightpaw after she came back from the trip. She had promised to stay awake, Bluepaw remembered, and she felt very pleased about it.

"Alright, then. Come on."

Ravenwhisker had to admit that he was also very hungry. Sweetfrost fell into step with him.

"Has Coldstar received her nine lives yet?" he asked quietly.

"I can't tell you that," Ravenwhisker chided softly with a purr. "But she's doing fine."

Sweetfrost nodded. He looked thoughtful. He was in fact trying to force himself not to lick Ravenwhisker's ear.

"You know, it's nice that we're friends, even if we're from different Clans. I'm happy about that."

"I just hope you won't die on me anytime soon," Ravenwhisker joked, but he felt like crying. "We've lost so many friends lately."

"You didn't need to come tonight, you know. You could've stayed home with your sister. I mean, it's not that I don't prefer when you're with us, but -- well, you know, if you're too sad --"

Ravenwhisker shrugged.

"I know. But I like it out here. I rarely get out during nighttime, too, but I find it beautiful."

"We do, in ShadowClan," Sweetfrost informed him. "I agree -- it is rather beautiful, but it's nicer with friends."

Ravenwhisker wasn't sure who pressed himself close first, but it ended up having the same result, anyway.

"I'm sorry about Graystar," Sweetfrost added sadly.

"It mostly makes me angry. I'd rip off a patch of grass if I could. I mean, it's awful. Shouldn't have happened. I wish he was still there. He was a good friend, and -- it's a shame. But I'm sure it'll be fine," he finished, but he kicked off a rock as he said it.

Sweetfrost looked at him sadly. He could have cried for him.

"You don't need an invitation to come to ShadowClan, if you need anything. And I don't mean herbs, I mean, well, if you need to talk to a friend."

Ravenwhisker nodded, but didn't add anything else. He wasn't sure how tonight could possibly get less awful, and he had to drag himself to the Moonstone. Sweetfrost huddled next to him. His pelt was warm.

As soon as he touched his nose to the crystal, he felt himself fall down, or up. He was never sure, but when he opened his eyes again, he knew he was in StarClan. Someone immediately rammed into him, then as he got up, very confused, someone rammed into that first cat.

"Okay, okay, okay, it's my turn," came Yellowstar's voice over the commotion.

"Get off!" Staggerlily grumbled from under her.

"I haven't seen him in moons!"

"Neither have I!" Staggerlily rasped. "Alright, now, this is very important. Remember Bluepaw and Twilightpaw? Well, we saw --"

"I'm not sure this is important," Yellowstar muttered.

"We saw," Staggerlily repeated angrily. "We saw them running around like a couple of squirrels. These two have something going on."

"Where's Blueheart?" Ravenwhisker asked, and he couldn't help but feel amused.

"She fell into a hole, but she'll be fine. This is StarClan, after all."

Blueheart came out of nowhere and continued the family tradition of dogpiling on the medicine cat. Ravenwhisker was squished, but it only partly helped to soothe his mood.

"This is nonsense. Did you have to be so old? Now you're in StarClan, but I'm still alive."

"You need to wake up and eat. You're always upset when you're hungry," Staggerlily croaked, and the vision dissipated.

Ravenwhisker wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or feel happy when he woke up. He decided to bottle-up and feel neither. Both emotions hurt too much right now anyway. He pressed himself closer to Sweetfrost, who was still delightfully warm. He found that eating did indeed make him feel a lot better.

"Did Breezetail and Bloomhen ever go back for that sheep?" Coldstar asked suddenly.

"Oh, they did. They guided it back to WindClan, where its Twoleg was still searching for it. WindClan were mighty grateful. And, well, it was really just like raising kits. You need to gain their trust. And, well, he ended up gaining our trust, too. Can't remember how. I suppose I wasn't happy at first that he made mum laugh so much when I was still so sad, or that we were supposed to welcome him in the family when -- well, you know. But he was very kind, too. It's good that mum laughed so much around him. There were too many badgers that year, and when she passed, there was only him left. First Graystar, then mum. I didn't want to lose Bloomhen, too, you know? When he became an elder, I went to see him, and I changed his bedding myself, and ate with him, and I suppose we became closer. I felt bad, but, well, I can't change the past, and now that he's gone, too, I suppose it just tells me that -- tells me a lot of very existential things. I don't know. But, well, that's about it."

She sighed.

"You know, I don't think there's a cure to what we have in our already known remedies. They'll need to look outside the borders to find it, I bet. Maybe they'll even send us to look for it. I mean, we're old, but getting out of here would be good exercise, and besides, I missed your beautiful face. It would be nice to go somewhere, just the two of us."

"Granted I don't fall into that river again," Coldstar joked.

"No way. Not with me to protect you. Listen, if they find something that we can go search for, how about we go look for it together?"

Coldstar had already agreed at "maybe they'll even send us to look for it."

"Absolutely."

Coldstar started to groom her mate again. It wasn't necessary -- she was squeaky clean. She just liked to do it.

"What about Twilightpaw and Bluefeather? Well, Bluepaw, since she was still so small."

Amberspots started to purr.

"Ah, well, see, Twilightpaw was always very eager and full of big ideas. She didn't exactly care about the warrior code. That's part of why they gave her to me. I was strict -- well, nice, too, I hope, but still, I taught it to her. She always told me, "when I'm older, I'll take Bluepaw as a mate!" and I would say "now, Twilightpaw, that would break the medicine cat code," and she would say "no!" and I would say "it would" and she would still say no."

"The medicine cat code is nonsense, anyway. Why can't they take mates?" Twilightpaw grumbled, and she was sitting down poutingly on the ground. "You know, I like her. I don't see why I shouldn't tell her."

Amnerspots sat next to her.

"You know, I don't agree with it, either, but I feel like breaking the code would only lead to chaos. That's why I prefer to follow it anyway. Otherwise, I get nervous. I don't like to break rules."

"Everyone always talks about the medicine cats who took mates or ran off or broke the medicine cat code!" Twilightpaw exclaimed in despair. "They're nice stories! And the medicine cats don't like it, either. It's not fair. Can't we change the warrior code?"

Amberspots gave her chest a couple of licks, then turned back to the angry little brown nugget she was supposed to train, and started to purr. Her nervousness ebbed away just as quickly as it came. Twilightpaw was very tiny and cute, and her anger felt almost disproportionate for such a small cat. Not that apprentices were that small, but Twilightpaw specifically was tiny, much like Tinystep, her mother. She usually complained about the warrior code when they went on patrol, and said that she wanted to change it. She would make a good warrior. She was very passionate about things she cared about.

"Hm. Well, see, there are things not all of us like, either. Whitewhisker doesn't like that we have to fight all the time. I don't like how the elders are secluded. You don't like that medicine cats aren't allowed to take mates."

"Then -- then you'll change it?" Twilightpaw asked with a hopeful glint in her tiny kitten eyes.

"I can try, little one, but change doesn't come in one day. Besides, battle training is good exercise; protecting borders and fighting keeps us entertained; not taking mates -- well, whatever. See what I mean? We can still enjoy the good sides, and right now, that's what we're going to do."

Amnerspots purred and put her face in Coldstar's neck fur. It was nice to think back to her apprentice. They'd had fun times together.

"We can only fight or heal. Those are the only two options. Well, what if I'm bored? I don't want to do either. I want to run around and sing songs or something. Or collect herbs and put them in my fur. I don't want to be a warrior. It's too boring. Everything is too boring, and I'm bored. And I wish I could eat flowers," tiny little Twilightkit had mumbled as she curled up and fell asleep one day.

Amnerspots and Coldstar had looked at each other in endearment.

"You know, she reminds me of you," Coldstar had commented as Amberspots picked up the kitten to bring her back to the nursery. "She's very driven. When she sets her mind to something, nothing can stop her. Remember your first battle?"

Amberspots nodded. Coldstar was momentarily distracted by how pretty she was.

"I'm thinking of getting you to be her mentor. Would you like that?" she stammered, still distracted.

Amberspots purred that day, but today, she yawned.

"That's enough reminiscing. I'm getting tired," she mumbled, and she snuggled closer. "You're comfortable."

Coldstar stubbornly kept washing her ears until she was done, and only then did she place her head on Amberspots' shoulder to nap with her.

Chapter 34: We Were Young

Notes:

OH WAIT i planned 35 chapters so this chapter will need to be fused with the next one. Oh jeez hold up there will be an update to this chapter later

UPDATE is done! I love this chapter. Look how it all ties up togetherrrrr

Amberspots was very bummed-out after waking up. She didn't want to talk or reminisce anymore. She stayed there, but her thoughts were somewhere else. It felt like all their Clan had ever done was suffer. There had been so many deaths in the past few years. She didn't know what to do with herself anymore. She slumped there next to Coldstar, and shoved her face in her fur. She could've cried. She was very tired at that moment. The mere idea of standing up felt exhausting. Amberspots only wanted to curl up and stay there for a while -- maybe a moon or two.

Were there really no herbs to cure them? Would she even get treated, or would she stay miserable forever? She didn't want that. She nudged Coldstar to wake her.

"Hi there. I'm in a bad mood. Got any tips?" she whispered.

"First tip: wake me up. Second tip: drink some water. Third tip: go see the nursery. It's always full of shenanigans."

"Do we even have kits?" Amberspots sighed.

"There's always Fernpaw. She's tiny and cute. She was Tinystep's second litter, wasn't she? Well, it wasn't a litter, but still."

"She's certainly small enough, but I'm not sure."

Amberspots put her head on her paws.

"It's nice to spend time together again. You know, cats worried that we weren't together anymore."

"It worried me," Coldstar admitted. "I wondered if they were right. I thought all that we did was admit that we were busy so we wouldn't search or wait for each other."

"At least, we know it isn't true," Amberspots purred reassuringly, and she licked her mate's muzzle.

Coldstar hid her face under her mate's paw and whined.

"I missed you."

"Aw, you missed me?"

"Hm-hmm," Coldstar nodded pitifully.

"Awww."

She squashed Coldstar under her weight, then let out a happy purr.

"I'm a little less sad with you," Amberspots admitted.

"And I'm less worried if you're here to soothe me," Coldstar replied.

Amberspots showered her in licks, then headbutted her.

"This is nice," she purred. "You know, we talked about everyone else's love stories, but not ours. I mean, we know ours, but still."

Coldstar nudged her affectionately, but yawned again.

"It's too warm in here. I'm falling asleep."

"You need food, my dear," Amberspots protested. "I'll get us something to eat."

She walked off before Coldstar could protest, then came back with two chaffinches.

"Sometimes, you forgot to eat, and you became so hungry that you started to shake. That's when I started to bring you food, isn't it?" Amberspots asked, despite knowing that she was right already.

"Yeah. It was always nice to have such a pretty molly bring me food," Coldstar purred.

"And it was always nice to sit with such a pretty molly as she ate. It was like we were sharing a secret. And you looked so sweet and calm and lovely. I think I fell more in love with you just because of that."

Amberspots purred.

"And your eyes! I always loved your eyes. There was such mystery in them, and they were bright orange, so it was like watching a sunset. They're beautiful -- still are, you know, because you still have them. You were slender back then -- under your fur, I mean. You felt all delicate, but you still had the strength of a warrior, and your fur was so very fluffy and nice and perfect. You know how some of your hair-tips are black around your neck? They're beautiful. I can look at them and shove my head in them for hours. You're perfect. You're like a snowstorm."

Coldstar purred.

"I still get shy when you say that. Can you believe it? How long has it been?"

"The first time I said it, you fell into a puddle," Amberspots laughed. "I never expected us to become such close friends. I don't know. I was probably just still not over Brownbelly, but you -- you just took me by surprise. I don't regret that she took another mate, because I wouldn't trade any of this for the world. And you know how your stomach rumbles when you're hungry? It does that for every cat, but yours sounds like a kitten purring. I think it's cute."

Coldstar was purring, and she had rested her head on her paws to keep listening more comfortably.

"I told you -- I'm a bit happier when you're there, and my favorite topic is you. I like talking about you, because you make me happy like nobody else can."

She licked Coldstar's muzzle. Coldstar was making helicopter noises and would probably start hovering soon.

"You know, I'd rather keep talking about you than about anything else. Can you blame me? I mean, there's so much to talk about. I think about it sometimes, just like that. I tell myself, 'wow.' I mean, look at you. I'm lucky. And happy. And content. Couldn't believe it at first. I thought I would wake up."

"Sometimes, I became scared that -- well, it's not your fault, of course."

"Oh, it's alright. Go on."

"I just had this dream that, well, not a dream, but I was scared that you'd be angry at me, or that I would turn out to be mistaken about you."

"I was scared of that, too. Remember the fake fights?"

Coldstar shivered.

"Sadly, I remember."

"Let's forget them."

"Yes, please. You said you weren't over Brownbelly at first. StarClan, we were so young and afraid of everything. Everything we did was new, and we were so scared. Then it got better, and it took me by surprise, too. I didn't expect the nightmares or the fear to stop, but it did, and I would look at you and completely love you without being scared that you'd turn out to be a snake or something. I was scared of -- well, you know, of cats in general. But I was still so eager. And I was scared that my fear was reasonable, but I pushed anyway, and I'm glad I did, because we're happy. I was about to say 'happy now,' but, well, we were happy then, too. You were always very nice. Whenever I told you something, you would listen, and nod your head, and tell me that I wasn't a fox-heart for worrying. You didn't mind anything. I was so grateful that I could have cried and thanked you forever."

"And when it was my turn to need help, like today, when you washed me, you didn't hesitate. You helped after Twilightpaw died, and after my mother died. I remember your warmth as you dragged me to your nest that you'd let me share for the night. I wasn't expecting kindness, but you were always kind, and that's part of what made me think sometimes that I was in a dream."

Amberspots scrunched-up her nose thoughtfully. Coldstar loved it when she did that, so she licked her muzzle.

"You know, I think that what makes me happy to live in a Clan is that I get to meet cats like you. And beyond that, it's how we live in the forest and get to see beautiful things every day. Snow, little rivers, rocks, trees -- it's all beautiful, you know? I hate when friends pass away, because I loved them. But -- I don't know. Maybe we could use the trip to put our ideas back into place. We'd have fun sightseeing, and we can hunt and walk despite it all. Maybe we'll need a medicine cat to come with us in case something goes wrong. Ravenwhisker needs to train Fernpaw, and besides, he might not want to leave Sweetfrost behind for so long, so maybe Bluefeather will agree to come with us. And even if there are no herbs to gather, we could still go on a journey. You and me -- and a medicine cat. Wouldn't it be fun?"

She put her head on her paws again.

"I'm a little tired now. It's annoying. It's still morning! Why am I tired? Coldstar," she whined, and Coldstar licked her ear.

"A trip will be nice," Coldstar purred. "Let's just hope we'll -- no, actually, who cares if we don't need to go? We can go even if there aren't any herbs to fetch. It'll do us good. Who do you think we should bring? Bluefeather, do you think? I think she would like it. StarClan knows she needs a break, too. Maybe when she comes back, she'll be in a better place, and she'll be friends with Tigerstorm again. Did you see how Mooneye's been making eyes at her, too? She'll probably miss Bluefeather if we take her away for too long."

Amberspots opened her eyes again. She seemed very relaxed and awake now, Coldstar noted happily. She licked her cheek again.

"Maybe we should wait until the end of leaf-bare," Amberspots provided. "But that would take a while, and frankly, I would've been ready to leave tomorrow. Can you imagine it, though? Travelling together under the blinding sun, feeling the soft grass under our paws, seeing hornets and bees and flowers everywhere? It would all be very nice."

Coldstar breathed in the cold snowy air and sighed dreamily.

"Oh, it would be, wouldn't it? I can't wait to go. We've never done this. I have to admit that I'm a little nervous about picking fights with you since we'll be alone and all."

"Then I'll make sure to be extra soft," Amberspots purred, and she licked her face soothingly. "Even if I'm passionate and fiery and whatever."

"You're always soft with me," Coldstar murmured happily. "You hate fights just as much as I do."

Amberspots squinted playfully.

"Verbal ones, of course," Coldstar added, and her mate nodded in satisfaction. "We'll find a lot of strange, new smells, too. Perhaps disgusting ones. Insect goop or something."

"I'll be there to protect you, my dear, and then, everything will be alright."

***

Yellowstar had been the tallest cat in the four Clans, back in her day. She had long black legs, and bright yellow fur. When she was born, her parents didn't mess around and called her Yellowkit. The two other kits were called Bluekit and Staggerkit. Most cats assumed that Staggerkit was the odd one out of the bunch of names, but they didn't know that Bluekit had been named, well, Bluekit, because she had been crying a lot, and that Staggerkit had been wobbling around very early on. Yellowkit was the odd name out. Her parents were no-nonsense cats, and they called them how they saw them. There was a crying kit, a wobbly kit, and a blonde kit. There you had it. Three names for their three kittens.

Her father, Sandtooth, was also yellow. Her mother, Nightrain, had had a special requirement from her own mother, who had decided very early on that she was going to name her after the delightful patter of rain that had fallen over the nursery the night she gave birth. The leader wasn't sure, and eventually forgot about it, but accidentally named her Nightrain anyway, and called it a happy accident that made everyone happy in the end. She was black with little white splotches that had reminded that dear old leader about rain all by itself. Staggerkit was also black and white; Bluekit was completely black, but had a white muzzle; and Yellowkit, well, she was yellow, but she had black paws, but we mentioned that already.

By the time she became leader, her paws started to wobble on their own, or they would clench without warning. She would have spasms, and get very confused, but she only ever told her father about it, and he told her not to worry. Their medicine cat was a good one, even if he was still young. He had the eyes of an experienced healed already, Sandtooth promised as he pointed her in the direction of the poor young cat who was desperately trying to drag a gigantic rabbit into his den. Yellowstar purred in amusement, but looked away. He was very shy, which is probably why he would later be so soothing towards Ravenwhisker during his apprenticeship.

Lightslap, her deputy, didn't really understand. He preferred to keep things moving fast. One time, she had to stare at him expectantly so he wouldn't finish his sentence. He had been meaning to say that she could stay in the elder's den while his patrol went to investigate the badger hole near Sunningrocks. He looked away and mumbled something, before taking his normal to again to say that they could all go investigate. She looked at him leaving with a sigh. He meant well, but he didn't have patience. He wanted things done fast. She was like this too, once, so she could understand it, but perhaps it was time for a new perspective. He wanted to bench her now that her body wasn't well. It was a sobering thought that she needed time to process.

"Am I useless now?" she asked her sisters once as she joined them for mealtime. "Am I a burden to the Clan?"

"Nobody's a burden to the Clan," Blueheart exclaimed fiercely. "That's what we've always said -- what you've never shied from showing."

"Maybe we need someone who can get things done quickly as a Clan leader. I'm slow now. I still have strength in my legs, but I doubt I could stand on rocks."

"Don't doubt yourself," Staggerlily rasped. "If your illness hasn't progressed to all your legs yet, then it hasn't progressed to all your legs yet. No need to see things that aren't there. You might still be able to go to Sunningrocks, and even to that place with the adders. You can still fight."

"Badly," Yellowstar muttered.

"Be quiet," Staggerlily ordered.

"Lightslap expects speed in his patrols," Yellowstar sighed.

"Well, he's not the Clan leader. Tell him off!" Blueheart persisted. "If it's bothering you so much, then you ought to talk it out."

"I don't think I will. He might be right," Yellowstar let out sadly.

"You're too nice," Staggerlily croaked. "Just do like I would do."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Yellowstar admitted, and their conversation stopped there.

She ended up going on that patrol. Lightslap wasn't very patient. He kept egging her on to go faster. She told him that he was going to walk on an adder, and he jumped out of her way. She purred teasingly at him.

"Come on, Lightslap. I'm still the leader, and you still owe me a little bit of respect."

As she said that, her jaw clenched painfully. She stared proudly at him anyway. It went limp after that, and she couldn't talk well anymore. It was the first time it happened during the day. It was usually only before she went to sleep. Woops, she thought.

It was ridiculous to see how annoyed cats would be, and even more ridiculous when they tried to hide it. But the most ridiculous part of it was that some didn't even try to pretend they weren't annoyed, as though she couldn't hear them anymore.

"Lightslap, keep them quiet, will you?" she mumbled, but the words wouldn't come out, and it made her almost panic, but she caught herself.

Lightslap nodded and yelled at everyone to keep quiet. She was happy about it, but she had to turn back. She wasn't sure if it would degenerate, but just in case, she wanted to go back to her den. The rest of the patrol loyally followed her, but she heard Lightslap complain that they would need to wait until tomorrow to investigate the badger hole now. Sandtooth told him to keep his mouth shut, and she intervened and told them both to cool down before there was a fight.

"You need to stop complaining," she tried to say, and it didn't come out in its entirety, but that was fine. "Back to camp, everyone! We'll have better luck tomorrow."

Her jaw hurt now, but at least, she could talk better. For some reason, she preferred forcing herself over just waiting it out. But she felt guilty, so she turned back and gestured to Lightslap with her tail.

"Actually, I'll go back. You continue. Come back with good news, if StarClan wants it!" she called, then she left with her tail held high.

Lightslap nodded, but he bent his head. He looked like he felt bad for pressuring her, but he was probably right, Yellowstar told herself as she returned to camp. She sat down in front of her den and looked down at the ground. The medicine cat appeared. His name was Featherleaf, because his pelt was olive-colored and looked a little bit like moss. It was also very fuzzy and soft, even out of kithood.

"Hello, Yellowstar," he let out worriedly. "Are you alright? You came back rather quickly."

"I let them go on their own. I could barely talk to them," she deplored. "I'm worried that I'll have to retire soon."

She looked down. Featherleaf sat down next to her and gave her ear a tentative lick. It was a little known fact that he had feelings for his leader. She was beautiful, with her long black paws and her yellow coat. If he hadn't been a medicine cat, he would have -- well, those were useless thoughts. But whenever he saw her somewhere, he couldn't help but stare. Not even his apprentice knew of his feelings. He was good at hiding them.

"I don't want you to retire yet," he admitted in a soft voice. "I would miss you as leader too much."

"Hm. Well, I don't know, Featherleaf it feels like Clan life is just one tragedy after another."

"It's always hard to lose a parent," Featherleaf nodded. "But life goes on. Beneath the grief, it's still bright and beautiful."

Just like you, he thought.

"You could go take a walk, and shake your head to get rid of all these nasty thoughts, and I'm sure you would be happier. At least for a while."

"I could. Thank you, Featherleaf. You don't happen to have anything to make the grief go away for a while, do you?"

Featherleaf shook his head, then his pelt, and stood up. He gave her a hearthy purr.

"I don't, but I could come with you. It'll do me good to stretch my legs. I'm sure the Clan will survive without me for five minutes. Besides, Ravenpaw can manage."

Yellowstar nodded miserably.

"Ravenpaw! We're going out! Try to keep your sister out of trouble!" Featherleaf joked with a teasing purr.

Amberpaw stopped playfighting with her brother for a second to say "hey!", then resumed her attack. Yellowstar herself even purred.

And so they headed down the slope into the forest. Featherleaf guided them to Sunningrocks, and hesitantly settled down on a rock.

"It's high noon. You don't -- I mean, you know," Featherleaf tried.

For some reason, he felt uncertain of everything he was doing right now. They had groomed each other often, but today, it felt different. To him, at least. But she sat next to him, and rested her head on her paws, and the medicine cat was immediately shaken off from his thought as he saw how sad she looked.

"Hey, Yellowstar," he tried softly, and she looked back at him with tearful eyes. "How long have we been friends?"

"Ever since I saw you haul that rabbit into your den," Yellowstar answered, and she snorted, and suddenly, she was purring.

"We've been through a lot together. As a Clan, I mean. Or whatnot. My point is that Clan life has always been hard, but you've always been our rock. Our shining star. You've always been at the top of it, shining bright, and we could always turn to you. So I think maybe that strength is still in you, and you'll pull out of whatever's been bothering you. I hope you'll stay our leader for a long time, Yellowstar."

"It's not like I'll disappear if I retire," Yellowstar answered curiously. "But if you want me to stay leader so bad, I suppose I can't say no to my favorite medicine cat."

"Now, don't go telling that to Ravenpaw," Featherleaf purred.

"What about you? Will you retire, or will you stay a medicine cat all your life?" Yellowstar asked.

"Well, I don't know. I like being a healer. The problem is that -- well, I've never had a mate. It's a big commitment to stay single all your life. That's probably why every Clan only has one or two medicine cats, and not ten. Most cats mate anyway."

"Not you, though," Yellowstar nodded. "But have you ever thought about it?"

"Well, thought about it -- theoretically, yes. If I hadn't been medicine cat, I --"

Then he grew quiet.

"What is it?" Yellowstar asked worriedly.

"I don't know. Hey, you've never taken a mate, either. Why's that?"

Yellowstar suddenly felt very hot under her pelt and looked away shyly.

"Oh, well, I don't know. I just thought that it wouldn't really serve me right to mate someone just for the heck of it, and not because I loved them, you know?"

They looked at each other for a while and tried to understand each other's feelings, then felt shy and looked away.

"You know, I've been wondering if Lightslap would be a good leader. He's just -- hasty. He doesn't like it when cats don't do things quickly. His apprentice told me that -- well, first his old apprentice, then his current one, they told me that he had no patience with them and became cranky if they weren't good enough at something he thought was basic knowledge. You know, there are a lot of different cats in one Clan. Slower cats, dumber cats, fatter cats, skinnier cats, sicker cats. And older cats, too! But he has no patience with any of them."

"Sicker cats like you," Featherleaf let out gently.

"He's been very unhappy with me these last few moons. Seasons, even. He thinks that if I can't do something properly, then I shouldn't do it at all. Now, that's no way to talk to a Clan leader, but see, sometimes, he's right. That badger hole today -- it was a pressing matter. But the rest of the time -- I could go hunting, or whatever. But he says I ought to just -- oh, I don't know. My point is that Lightslap has been a pain in my fur for a while."

"That's horrible!" Featherleaf cried, and he frantically licked Yellowstar's face. "I would offer to take his place, but, well, I'm kind of a little bit of a medicine cat."

Yellowstar purred.

"Maybe you could pray StarClan to send us a cat or something. You know, make it fall from the sky or something. Bump into the nursery like a big ball of hail. Have someone reconstruct it yet again."

"Sometimes, I think that it's the less solid den in the whole forest," Featherleaf grumbled. "But hey, I can always try. HEY, STARCLAN!"

Yellowstar purred in laughter. Then the bushes bristled, and they both jumped to their feet, but instead of the StarClan warrior they had been half-expecting to meet, a miserable-looking cat came out if them with his tail held low.

"Hello," the tom said. "I'm from RiverClan. I'm searching for a new home. Could you take me in?"

StarClan had a lot of fun with that one. They liked to make things convenient sometimes, especially if it played into jokes.

"Are you hurt?" Featherleaf fretted.

"Not really. I just can't stand fish, and I'm scared of water, so I can't live in RiverClan."

Yellowstar nodded.

"You're in luck," she started, then her mouth went limp.

She nodded to Featherleaf, but Featherleaf didn't cut her off or try to explain in her stead. He decided to lick her muzzle to make it all better. It worked, but also made Yellowstar feel all warm and fuzzy and confused.

"Um, well, I'm the Clan leader, and I say you're welcome. What's your name?"

"My name is, uh, Grayyarrow," the tom blurted out.

But when they arrived back to camp, he started to mess around with everyone. He told Blueheart that his name was Grayberry, then told Lightslap that his name was Grayburrow. Yellowstar and Featherleaf looked at each other, then laughed. Everyone decided to just call him Graymouth, since he seemed to have a big one for jokes. Amberpaw liked him, because she liked nonsense, and she elbowed Ravenpaw, who looked like his eyes would fall out of his head soon.

"What do you think his real name is?"

"Gray -- pretty -- oh, StarClan," he let out, then he ran away.

"Wait!" Amberpaw laughed, and she ran after him.

The thing is that he had run away just before his warrior ceremony, and thus had no idea what his name really was. Most cats in ThunderClan ended up having a different name for him, and it made him laugh a lot. Ravenpaw (who soon became Ravenwhisker) looked like he was about to faint whenever he heard him. Graymouth liked him, because he was funny, so he made sure to say hello at least once a day to watch him trip over nothing. At some point, he became worried, and went to ask Yellowstar about him in her den.

"Excuse me, Yellowstar, it's just that I've seen this cat -- uh, Ravenwhisker? Well, see, he looks rather frail and he's been collapsing everywhere, and, well, I'm nervous is what it is."

Yellowstar remembered her sisters' theory and had to remind herself that she shouldn't spread gossip.

"Oh, he's alright. That cat is the medicine cat. He's not usually like this. Well, he's one half of our medicine cat team, I should say. There's also Featherleaf -- the fluffy, pale one."

She stared at Featherleaf for a few seconds, then turned back to her guest.

"And, um. The other day, when we met, you looked, um, a bit, uh. Well, there was something with your jaw. Um."

"Oh, yes. I have muscle problems."

"Oh. Okay," Graymouth nodded, and he looked down. "I was just -- well, I don't know. It doesn't seem nice."

"It isn't. You know, you seem rather nice. Why don't you join me and Featherleaf for a meal?"

"Yes," Graymouth let out, surprised. "That's, um, an honour. Thank you!"

Then he ran away happily, before turning back.

"Um. Should I fetch --"

Then he saw Featherleaf pulling a gigantic rabbit towards them, and stopped talking.

"Do you need help with that?" Graymouth fretted, and he hovered by nervously.

"Please, you're as nervous as a bee. Yes, I would like some help."

Graymouth took one leg of the rabbit. Ravenwhisker, who was nearby, looked at him accidentally hit himself in the face with it, and decided that he was perfect. He sat there and stared for a while.

He ended up fitting in, after all, despite his nervousness about it at first. Yellowstar liked him so much that she ate more with him than with Lightslap, who was getting a little annoyed. Featherleaf was always with them, and Graymouth noticed after some time how his eyes always glinted when he managed to make Yellowstar laugh, and how Yellowstar usually called him over for no reason, just because she liked to feel his fur brush against hers, and because she wanted to hear more of his jokes.

He liked joking around, and making a fool of himself, which is why Amberspots liked him, and also why kits liked him, too. He would wiggle them around and squish them with his weight, and they would let out tiny mews of indignation, then pursue him with slashes of their tiny fluffy paws.

Amberspots became very insulted about it, because the nursery was her territory, thank you very much, and she took to challenging him to duels all the time. He liked her at first, but realized that he was getting absolutely nowhere with his attempts at flirting. And her brother Ravenwhisker stopped being so nervous after some time, and also found excuses to check up on him -- something about him not being used to ThunderClan territory. But he was doing well.

After a while of taking care of the elders and repairing whatever needed to be repaired, he was finally trusted enough to go on patrol -- and finally knew the territory enough, too. It was a shame, Yellowstar told herself. She had seen him talk to the elders like peers, and with great respect, and he had made good friends in their den. It was a shame, then, that Lightslap wasn't so understanding.

One day, a fight broke out between Lightslap and Graymouth. Strangely enough, it had been over how the deputy treated his apprentice. Lightslap had been rough with poor Brownpaw over something he considered a rookie mistake, and not "worthy of a cat who was supposed to be a warrior soon." She had been on a hunting assessment, and had forgotten herself in her excitement. Her tail had brushed loudly against a leaf, and the mouse she had been hunting had scurried away.

"Calm down," Graymouth had been saying.

"Listen, I know Yellowstar accepted you into the Clan, but that doesn't mean that you get to talk to me like that, and insert yourself everywhere," Lightslap said coldly, and he turned back to his apprentice. "Go back to your den, Brownpaw."

Brownpaw nodded sadly and ran off.

"I just don't think it was very nice," Graymouth tried.

"Does it matter? Because I have other things to do than to deal with your complaints. I have a Clan to manage, and things to do. And don't just stand there, looking so high and mighty! You're barely a part of the Clan yet. You haven't earned anything, and certainly not my help in battle."

Yellowstar appeared, and tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. She settled for glaring instead.

"It doesn't matter!" Lightslap protested. "Come on, Yellowstar! Ugh."

He turned on his heel and stalked away, then decided that he had other things to say, and came back.

"You know, just because you think people should be nice to you, doesn't mean you ought to demote me. And I know you're fond of Graymouth, but I've been your deputy for seasons! And everyone's lost their heads over me wanting you to -- to just do things right! I mean, it isn't against the warrior code to want a badger hole checked out as soon as possible. But you've all lost your heads."

"You're right. I shouldn't be leader anymore," Yellowstar said angrily, and everyone gasped and murmured.

Featherleaf, especially, seemee crestfallen.

"-- but someone else should, and it shouldn't be you," she went on. "You don't have the patience necessary to be leader. I'm making Graymouth deputy, and I'll retire when he's ready. I expect you to respect him as your new deputy now, and as your leader when the time comes."

"What have I even done? Is it really because I'm not nice enough'? All I've ever done was tell you something you're saying yourself right now: that you shouldn't be leader!"

Yellowstar looked around at everyone.

"We should be having this conversation elsewhere," she tried to say, but her mouth clasped on its own, and she started to shake.

Graymouth helped her sit down.

"Show-off," Lightslap growled, then walked away to the warriors' den.

"It's okay. Give her space, please," Featherleaf said soothingly. "Ravenwhisker, come here, will you? Do you know how to treat this?"

"Of course. I'm no longer an apprentice," Ravenwhisker replied with a purr.

"I know. But I wanted to make sure that you knew how to do this on your own, because I'm going to be retiring soon, too."

"What?" Ravenwhisker protested sadly.

"You will?" Yellowstar echoed, and her eyes were shining.

"Quiet, you're sick," Featherleaf purred, and he looked down at her fondly.

"Not that much," she protested. "See, I'm fine now."

Her paw was clenching, but it was fine. It hurt, but that was better than spasming. Then it started to shake, and she felt all cold.

"I'm fine," she called, and the circle of cats tightened up around her.

Little kittens approached her and sunk their little faces into her fur. One of them bit her shaking paw and started to wiggle. Then her face started to clench. She was really having fun today, she told herself sarcastically. Again, Featherleaf shooed everyone, and settled down next to her. Yellowstar rested her head on his pelt. She tried to think of something nice to say, but all she really wanted to do right now was to lay even closer to her friend.

It turned out that Graymouth was a little odd sometimes, as the cats would say. He would bring a mouse in a random corner of the camp, and leave it there; spin around for a while, then go on with his day; or walk like he was afraid of stepping into embers. Featherleaf saw him, and he would lick his face and whisper encouragement, because he looked rather troubled about it. One of the things that helped him feel better would be to spend time by the RiverClan border. The sound of water made him feel better, so of course, Yellowstar let him spend as much time as he wanted there. Lightslap complained that it was nonsense, but she told him to be either quiet or respectful. He said that he wasn't fit to become leader, and she told him that he was even worse, so he stopped talking.

"I just want the Clan to function at its best!" Lightslap howled, hurt and sad and angry.

"Let him have a chance to heal!" Yellowstar growled back. "Leadership isn't only about physical capacity, it's also about heart, and strategy, and reassuring the Clan, and understanding how it works."

"You're being absurd!" Lightslap screeched. "Come on, Yellowstar, you're making a -- some sort of point here, some sort of philosophical stand. Alright, fine, I get it, but come on! Clan rank and philosophy don't go well together!"

Yellowstar looked down.

"When has Graymouth ever missed out on his duties?" Featherleaf pointed out. "Furthermore, when has Yellowstar herself ever done that? You're the one who told her not to check out that badger hole."

"Yes, because it wouldn't go fast enough! And I was right, in the end!" Lightslap argued. "Do you want a Clan where everything is halfway done, and where hunting takes seasons? Do you want to have a fresh-kill pile that's always empty because nobody feels good enough today to refill it?"

That one cut Yellowstar deep, and apparently, other cats felt hurt, too. She wasn't the only one in the Clan who had dark, difficult days.

"We have a lot of good warriors and hunters," Amberspots hissed.

"And we'll all gladly help assist our leader if he, or she, ever needs it," Coldyarrow agreed.

"Yes, but that's not how it works," Lightslap sighed, trying to be calm. "Leaders work alone. They're efficient one-cat armies."

Then he shook his head and let out a long sigh.

"You know what, I kind of see your point. But still," he let out, and he left.

Yellowstar felt awful now, so she also retired to her den. Featherleaf followed her, and slumped down next to her with a reassuring lick to her ear.

"Is he right? I always thought that we had a chance to do this job right -- to be leaders, even with our illnesses. Graymouth and me, I mean. But Featherleaf, what if he's right?" Yellowstar asked, and she started to cry.

Featherleaf started to groom her pelt, since he didn't know what to say to reassure her yet.

"You know, whenever you want something to be true, and to work out, you manage to find ways to make it work. So I'm sure it'll be alright."

Yellowstar was too confused to properly understand his advice. She rested her head on his paws.

"If you want him to be a good leader, then he'll be one. You'll convince yourself, and Graymouth, and the entire Clan, too. Maybe even Lightslap. But Lightslap is being a fox-heart."

"Is he? Or is he right?" Yellowstar sighed.

"He could be both, but he's wrong," Featherleaf insisted.

"And you're very kind, as usual," Yellowstar purred, and she licked his muzzle. "You've been an amazing friend, Featherleaf. I don't think I want you to ever leave my side."

"What does that mean?" Featherleaf choked out, and his voice was shaking.

"That maybe -- well, you've -- you've been a great mentor to, um, to Ravenwhisker. Maybe -- maybe you'd make a good father. Maybe. Sort of. I'm trying to ask you if you want to be my mate and please don't laugh at me," Yellowstar blurted out all at once with her eyes closed.

"But I love you!" Featherleaf protested like it was an argument to something.

"Then okay!" Yellowstar shot back, confused.

By the time they came around to having kits, Blueheart, Staggerlily, and most of the elders were gone, but for some reason, Sandtooth was still there. He spent his days squinting at everyone and startling the apprentices, who thought sometimes that he was a bit of dried moss. It made him laugh.

They called their kit Moonkit, because her birth was a little bit of a miracle from StarClan. As she grew up, she saw Brownbelly become a mother once, then twice, and that second litter had kits of their own. She also saw Graymouth become Graystar, and show up with a kit of his own, too, then with a mate and a second kit. Her parents died old and happy, and her grandfather stubbornly refused to die.

One day, he was thrown away by mistake with the old beddings of the elders, and came back in StarClan yelling about it to poor Ravenwhisker, who hadn't asked anything. But it was the only way to die he accepted, so eventually, he settled in the starry plains. He met his mate Nightrain again, and still sat down and squinted, but purred at the same time, too. He decided to stay old in StarClan, because it was funny to look like a pile of hay for all eternity.

Then Graystar died of a badger attack, and the Clan mourned him. Lightslap felt sad, but still kept badgering Moonpaw about it. He became ThunderClan's resident bastard, and he specifically hated Moonpaw for being Yellowstar's daughter. And so Moonpaw grew a tough, no-nonsense side, along with the softness and patience and love her parents had shown her that she still held very dear. And she found that Bluepaw was the same way, because Bluepaw's mother Crowface was very rude to her daughters, and it had made her become more bristling. But she was still very nice, and very smart, too, so Moonpaw liked her.

Then Coldyarrow became Coldstar, and took Whitewhisker as a deputy, except Whitewhisker had a bad leg that kept her from doing much of anything without pain some days. Amberspots was gradually made deputy, but Amberspots grew sick, too. It wasn't her body this time, it was her mind. Moonpaw pitied her, but soon enough, she had become Mooneye, and she was deputy, too.

There was one thing that stopped her from being too happy: Lightslap. Lightslap kept pestering her until the day he died, but at least, he had her back in battle. Mooneye's only other problem was that Bluepaw and Twilightpaw liked each other, which was rather annoying. So Mooneye decided to move on. Sadly, Twilightpaw didn't make it out of a wave of illness that took hold of her after she ate something poisonous by mistake.

But Mooneye had started to notice Fernpaw now. They were all basically the same age -- all being young cats and everything -- but Fernpaw had needed to wait to become a medicine cat apprentice, since Bluefeather had been there in her stead before. She had decided to purposefully delay her own training until a spot opened, which was probably a bad idea in general, but paid off in this specific scenario. Fernpaw was Lightslap's daughter, but she was a sweetheart. She apologized when she bumped into bees during training, and always spoke very softly. She was also very small, which perhaps played well into Mooneye's favor, since she was tall and square and very strong. Fernpaw seemed to like her, too, except she was the medicine cat apprentice. Woops.

But Mooneye didn't worry. She knew that love always found a way. She stayed good friends with Bluefeather, and grew close to Coldstar, too. Sometimes, among the pain and the nonsense, cats managed to be happy, and Mooneye was one of them.

Chapter 35: A dream and a vision

Summary:

Biiiig update so I can finish this book already! Man what a wild ride! Expect like two more chapters. There will be two other books in this series!

That night, Amberspots dreamed of a strange place. She was in some sort of cave where little glowing stars moved around. There was glowing moss, and normal moss growing on its walls, and little worms on strings dangling around. It was beautiful, and a little scary, too. She saw herself settling down on the moss with Coldstar by her side, and falling asleep. Then she woke up in the leader's den, feeling strangely relaxed. She hadn't felt that way in a long time. It was like the clouds in her brain were gone.

But as soon as she started to move around, the feeling disappeared, and she started to feel the ache in her shoulders from clenching them too much again.

She softly stuck her nose into Coldstar's fluffy, warm pelt to wake her up.

"What? What is it?" Coldstar muttered sleepily.

"I had a strange dream."

"What dream?" Coldstar asked, then she yawned. "Hold on…"

She fell asleep again. Amberspots purred and snuggled closer. Her dream could wait. But as soon as she closed her eyes, the place appeared again. It made her want to sleep for ages, so that's what she did. She slept the whole day away.

She woke up in the middle of the night and accidentally put her paw on Coldstar's face.

"Muh!" Coldstar huffed, and she opened her eyes. "Hey! You're awake!"

She started to furiously groom her mate's pelt. Amberspots purred.

"I thought you were dead or something," Coldstar fretted between licks to her face.

"I had that dream again," Amberspots explained.

"What dream?"

"Well, I tried to tell you about it this morning, but you were too sleepy," Amberspots purred.

"What was it?" Coldstar purred back, and she settled closer to lick her ears more comfortably.

"Well, it was a cave. There were stars in it, but they were warm, and they moved on their own. It was all soft and welcoming."

"StarClan?" Coldstar proposed.

"It felt warm and alive," Amberspots rectified. "So, not StarClan. Maybe SunClan."

Coldstar snorted and rested her muzzle on her shoulder.

"Yes, maybe. Should we investigate your dream?"

"Maybe we're SunClan," Amberspots echoed. "Uh, yes. Maybe we should. But maybe not right now. We should eat, and go see the Clan."

"Hmm. Or maybe we're MoonClan," Coldstar added. "But yes. And I'll stick very close to you."

Amberspots licked her ear.

"Aw, you love me."

"No, I don't. That's a lie," Coldstar joked, and Amberspots almost panicked for a second, before purring.

"Yes. A big lie," she laughed, and she licked her muzzle. "Come on, then."

But Coldstar yawned.

"Five more minutes. I'm not awake enough yet. Besides, my eyes are hurting."

Amberspots whined, then resigned herself to wait more and rested her head on Coldstar's shoulder. She dreamed of the place again, but this time, she didn't wake up on her own. Her mate was poking her with her nose.

"Love. Hey, love, wake up. Look outside!"

Amberspots opened her eyes, already eager to know what Coldstar sounded so happy about, and as she did so, a smell came tickling her whiskers. Snow!

"It snowed!" she purred like a kitten, and she ran outside.

Coldstar purred and followed her. They found Mooneye sniffing at a snowflake, then backing away as it fell on her nose. She let out a tiny adorable sneeze, then resumed her staring at the horizon fiercely like she always did.

Then a real miracle appeared: Bluefeather and Tigerstorm were playing in the snow together. They were purring and meowing like they used to, and tried to cover each other. Then Beavertail appeared and promptly fell on his face. Bluefeather squinted, then pawed at him. Tigerstorm purred at them, then jumped on Beavertail and squashed him further into the fluffy white blanket with a battle cry. Bluefeather rammed into them without even thinking, then she seemed to decide that she had more fun when she didn't care about anything else, and kept playing for a while.

Amberspots and Coldstar looked at each other tenderly.

"Well, it seems like another problem is solved," Coldstar said happily.

"Yes, it does," Amberspots purred, and she nosed into her neck fur. "And I love you. I don't know, well, everyone is falling in love left and right and having kittens and whatnot, and it makes me feel like I love you more. I don't know."

Coldstar shuffled closer.

"I love you, too. More than the sun loves the moon. Unless they don't love each other at all, which would still make my comparison true, but it wouldn't have any meaning. But still."

Amberspots's purring grew louder. She liked it when Coldstar said things like that.

"I feel like today's a nice day," Amberspots admitted, and she kept licking her mate's ear.

They snuggled together on the rock (it was slightly warmer than the ground).

"I feel like it has something to do with the dream I just had. There's just something about that place that's calling me," Amberspots went on. "Do you think we could go search for it?"

Coldstar tipped her head to the side.

"Well, I don't know."

"I know it's sudden, but this is the happiest I've felt for so long. I feel warm, and alive, and loving."

She thought about it.

"I mean, I've been getting a little better, but this -- I mean, it's different. I'm not even cold! I feel cozy and warm, and -- and my eyes, it's like they see color better."

Coldstar looked into her mate's eyes. Remembrance flashed into her eyes of the difficult moons they had gone through. Amberspots had grown so distant from everyone, and so unhappy. If something made her feel better, and brought her relief, Coldstar had to act on it.

"Screw that it's sudden. You're feeling happy, and we'll follow that feeling. I'll tell Mooneye she can watch the Clan for a few moons. We'll go search for the place where stars dance," Coldstar said, and she stood up.

Amberspots nodded, but she started to feel sad. She would miss everyone. She snuggled closer to Coldstar.

"Would you mind if we waited until greenleaf? It would be easier to travel without all this snow, and it would give us time to prepare. That, and maybe we'll see Tigerstorm and Beavertail's kittens before we leave!" she purred.

Coldstar sat back down.

"Oh. Well, I was getting a bit excited to leave now. But that's okay! We can wait. How long will that take? Oh, moons. Nooooo."

She slumped down, then rolled on her back playfully.

"You need to make it up to me now, and make those moons extra interesting," she challenged.

"Hm. How will we do that? Do we have anything interesting to talk about? Any fun stories to tell the young ones?" Amberspots thought out loud.

"How about the time you asked me to be your mate? We've never told that story."

Bluefeather and Tigerstorm's muzzles poked out from under the rock. They were all fluffied-up from playing in the snow, and looked like they did when they were kittens. Their eyes were glinting with mischief.

"A story?" Tigerstorm squeaked.

"Sounds kind of boring," Bluefeather added. "Tell us about when we were kits! Or about when you were kits."

"She has kit fever," Tigerstorm cooed.

"Do not!" Bluefeather said dignifiedly, and she raised her chin.

Mooneye snorted. Bluefeather's eyes sparkled eagerly. Then she followed Mooneye's gaze, who had settled on… Fernpaw. Bluefeather shoved her face in the snow so it would muffle her cry of frustration.

"What?" Tigerstorm protested.

"Join me. It's fun to scream in the snow. If I scream loud enough, I won't notice their flirting over there," Bluefeather muttered, then she hid her face again. "I thought she liked me."

Tigerstorm frowned.

"Do you want me to… Beat her up?" she asked gingerly.

"Who?" Bluefeather protested, and she looked up.

"Well, I can't fight Mooneye, but I'm sure I would absolutely annihilate Fernpaw," Tigerstorm purred giddily.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Amberspots asked, and she beckoned the two young mollies on the rock.

They jumped to meet them and huddled close together. It reminded Amberspots of when she had been small, and had gotten a thorn in her paw. She had made a very adorable pout, and whined, and Amberspots had spent the evening grooming her poor little pelt after Ravenwhisker had gotten it out. Little Bluekit had snuggled close. Crowface wasn't any good with kits -- which led to Amberspots disliking her a lot. She hadn't wanted any, of course, but even that was something Amberspots couldn't understand.

Well, at least, it made more for her. She was exceedingly happy to see their tiny little muzzles rise up to touch hers every morning. They had been very cute and fluffy, and Amberspots loved kittens. Lately, Amberspots had been distant from everyone, but it seemed to be getting back on track with all the talks she'd had with them lately. Maybe becoming an elder had been good for her. She had talked to Bluefeather about how trees worked, and where plants grew; and she had been there when she had been replaced as Ravenwhisker's apprentice; and Tigerstorm had kept barging into her life and making shenanigans happen.

"Well, I thought Mooneye liked me, and we kind of talked for a while, but she didn't seem to be too happy with me, so we talked about it. I guess she -- well, she likes Fernpaw more. I guess she got to know me better and I wasn't her type. She looked pretty relieved, but, well, I'm kind of sad. Scratch that -- I'm pretty sad."

Amberspots and Coldstar looked at each other. They had been right, then: they had liked each other for a while.

"I'm so sorry, kitten," Amberspots said sadly, and she licked Bluefeather's forehead.

"I guess we could have tried to make it work. I wanted to, but she didn't. She said it just -- we were just too different, and I wasn't right for her. She was looking for someone sweet, and while I was busy grieving Twilightpaw, I guess it made me -- well, ruder, but also quieter. Maybe it made her think that I was shy. And I was rude to Tigerstorm, but I opened up to her sometimes, and I was pretty bummed-out a lot of the times. I'm sorry, sis. I was really rude."

"Yeah, it's okay. You already apologized. Besides, we've been playing in the snow for -- since, like, dawn. So it's alright!" Tigerstorm purred. "I still love you, sis, even if you can be a jerk sometimes."

"Well, I won't be a jerk anymore. Promise," Bluefeather let out, and she head-butted her sister.

"Why does that make me more upset?" Tigerstorm wondered.

"'Cause you're a mouse-brain. Fine, so maybe I'll stay a little bit of a jerk."

"We like you like that," Amberspots purred.

"Now, what did we miss?" Coldstar added curiously. "I'm very glad you two made up, and I would like the full story."

What happened -- and what they told their friends -- was that this morning, Mooneye had woken up early. She had been spending the evening thinking about their relationship, and feeling unhappy about it. She came to the decision that it couldn't go on, and she had gone to tell Bluefeather, since she usually woke up early to go eat a little something before everyone woke up. It had been strange. It was like she was noticing all the little habits Bluefeather had, and it made her find her… different. Prettier, maybe?

It was a strange feeling. Of course, Bluefeather was gorgeous. She always had been. But Mooneye had liked Fernpaw before her, and Bluefeather had been her second choice. But she was still thinking about Fernpaw -- even more now. Bluefeather had been thinking of making their relationship official, but, well, that didn't end up happening.

Mooneye found Bluefeather rude sometimes, and she didn't really feel passionate about her. It felt like she had been stuck into a relationship with her, and of course, that had been through no fault of Bluefeather's. But perhaps she had tried to move on too fast, or perhaps she had found herself too rude for Fernpaw, and decided that she deserved better. This was obviously no reason to start a relationship with someone new, and Mooneye saw that now.

So she went to see Bluefeather, and apologized. Bluefeather had been extremely sad, but she promised that she understood. She head-butted her ex-mate and wished her luck, and promised that they would stay friends, too. Mooneye nodded and said that she was looking forward to being friends. It had made her sad, too. It was strange. It had been an amicable breakup, which made her wonder if she had made a mistake, but she told herself that it was basic kindness, and that basic kindness didn't equate love.

So Mooneye had gone back to her post by the leader's den and stayed there with her heart heavy. She never loved Bluefeather like a mate, but she loved her deeply as a Clanmate. Even more now, it seemed. Admitting that to herself without feeling guilty brought a wave of relief, and she sighed, feeling more relaxed than she had been in a while. She wasn't too happy right now, but she felt free somehow. She had been trying to make their relationship work for too long. She stayed there, and watched the snow fall, gray against the black sky, and felt calm.

Bluefeather, however, felt none of that. She felt horrified at first, and panicked as she understood what was happening. It felt like the sky was crashing down on her. But she kept her cool and only broke down when she was back in the warriors' den. She shoved her head in Tigerstorm's flank and started to let out thin wails of grief.

"I thought maybe we would have kits together. I mean, I thought about it. We could ask a friend for help or something," she had mumbled, and Tigerstorm had opened her eyes.

"What? Me? What? Let me worm," Tigerstorm let out, and she fell asleep again.

"Worm?" Bluefeather protested.

"M'worm."

"Tigerstorm! Get up. I have to talk to you. And apologize. Because I don't want to be mad anymore. I'm upset and angry and super sad and I really need a friend to talk to."

Tigerstorm huffed. She didn't want to get up and walk, especially not in this weather.

"Pull me out of the den. Then we can talk," she said, very proud of her idea.

"Tigerstoooorm. It's really urgent!" Bluefeather hissed.

"Fiiiine," Tigerstorm grumbled back, and she hesitantly sat down. "But I don't like your tone."

"Thanks. So me and Mooneye have been a thing for a while, and I wanted to -- well, I thought we could like, I don't know. I mean, I didn't even tell her that. But anyway, I wanted to be a real couple and not just like, try it out. But she told me she was dumping me like, three seconds ago."

"I thought you liked Twilightpaw," Tigerstorm muttered.

"Well, that was a while back. Like, two winters back. Maybe one. Do we count now, actually? Whatever."

"But then, are you mad at me or Mooneye?" Tigerstorm asked sleepily.

"I mean, I'm not mad at Mooneye. And I mean, it was kind of mouse-brained of me to be mad at you over Twilightpaw. I guess I just really wanted to be mad at something. It didn't matter who, or what, and it didn't matter that it was unfair. I just wanted to be angry, because it felt good to be angry. I'm sorry."

Tigerstorm shoved her head on top of Bluefeather's.

"I'm sleepyyyyy. And it's okay. I wasn't mad at you. I was just sad. 'Cause like, I'm gonna sound like a mom about this, but it kinda felt like you had lost your way. Yes, I'm very wise. Dangerously wise. Now, can we sleep? Please? I'm sleepy. And I'm gonna sleep anyway," Tigerstorm huffed weakly.

Her eyelids were heavy with sleep.

"I mean, it wasn't any fun to hang out with you anymore, and sometimes, I kind of wanted to be angry at you, but then I told myself that you weren't a mean cat, you were just really angry. I don't know. I'm too wise. Beavertail loves me. Now, goodnight!"

They both fell asleep, but Bluefeather would toss and turn. Ultimately, as the sky was desperately trying to turn green despite all the snow clouds that hid it from view, she woke up again. She started to poke her sister with her paw.

"Tigerstoooorm. Tigerstooooorm. I'm booooored. And sad. Actually, you need to wake up before I remember how sad I was. Come oooon."

She thought about something that would motivate Tigerstorm to wake up.

"There are snow clouds, and nobody's stepped in the snow yet. We could be the first ones to play in it!"

Tigerstorm opened her eyes and squinted.

"Since when do you like to play in the snow?" she asked mistrustingly.

"Since… now. Come onnnn. You can even invite your mate."

Tigerstorm squinted further.

"It sounds like a plan to assassinate me with snow."

"Maybe it issss. Come onnnnnnnn."

"Alright, you're on!" Tigerstorm howled, too excited about the idea of a snowfight to be upset anymore.

She turned to her mate and put her muzzle on his ear.

"BEAVERTAIL, IT'S SNOWFIGHT TIME! WAKE UP!" she screeched.

Beavertail woke up immediately.

"SNOWFIGHT TIME!" he yowled, and Lightslap kicked him in the face.

"Take your noise somewhere else!" he protested.

"Hey! Don't kick him in the face!" Tigerstorm counter-protested, outraged, then she dragged her mate outside anyway. "Come on! Team tickters is on snowball fight duty today!"

"StarClan be merciful," Bluefeather grumbled.

"Team tickters!" Beavertail exclaimed.

"TEAM TICKTERS -- ALSO, ATTACK!" Tigerstorm screamed.

"YEAH!" Beavertail said, then he wa-hooed and threw himself in a fluffy pile of snow, which immediately swallowed him up.

"WHAT ARE YOU ATTACKING?" Tigerstorm laughed.

"I'M ATTACKING THE GROUND!" Beavertail called back.

Tigerstorm exploded into purrs. Bluefeather sighed.

"This is kind of awkward. I mean, messing around together and everything. I barely got to know Beavertail -- I mean, you look super close to him, but we're not even -- I don't know. And it's still pretty weird between you and I, sis."

"That's because you're not playfighting hard enough," Tigerstorm replied.

Bluefeather squinted.

"You're digging a hole in the ground," she accused.

"No! It's a tunnel. It's a war tunnel," she answered mischievously.

Beavertail and her started to dig it towards Bluefeather, who started to purr.

"Oh no!" she laughed, but they kept pursuing her, so she ran away laughing. "Noooo! Hehehe. You look like kittens."

"Hey!" Tigerstorm protested, saddened.

"Thank you!" Beavertail exclaimed. "Kittens are cute."

"Yes. It's cute," Bluefeather agreed.

"Maybe it is. Alright! Come on!" Tigerstorm called, and they started to pursue her again.

Bluefeather ran off. She looked very happy now.

"Hey, Bluefeather," Tigerstorm suddenly asked sadly, and she climbed out of the tunnel. "You know, you've been kind of rude to me in those past few moons."

"I'm sorry. It's true. I was very rude. Remember that time you woke up and you were super excited and I was mean to you because you made noise? Well, that was mean of me," Bluefeather agreed.

Beavertail was starting to wiggle.

"Does that mean we can start playing again?" he asked desperately. "I kind of woke up for that. I hope you're alright now, though. Are you? I'm not sure. Sounds like there's a lot of bad blood, but I'm sure we can all talk about it later. 'Cause right now is snow time! Right? Besides, we can't just try to solve all of that at dawn. We should wait until mealtime."

Bluefeather nodded. Maybe she would give Tigerstorm her favorite food.

"Yeah! I can get you a --"

She was interrupted by a very inconvenient vision of herself walking around a plain, surrounded by little dancing stars, and she was purring and dancing along with them like she had no problems at all. She didn’t even realize that she was daydreaming, and just kept appreciating the vision. She had the distinct feeling that there was a molly there that she loved, and kittens, lots of them, and they felt familiar, even if she didn’t know who they were. There was a golden kitten that was rolling around -- wait, it wasn’t a kitten. But still. Then Bluefeather shook her head, feeling a little annoyed and ashamed of herself.

Chapter 36: Old love, new love, fading love

Summary:

Bluefeather is Angry

Amberspots soon started to do something you could call either “being sweet” or “making everyone’s teeth rot”. You could say it was a result of her heart softening-up from staying in the elders’ den for a while. She had done something like this in her faraway youth, but much less romantic-sounding because they weren’t mates: when Brownpaw appeared, she would start purring and run to her very happily. What she had taken to doing today was the same thing, except she would groom Coldstar’s ears after reaching her.

“Look at her,” she let out.

“What?” Coldstar echoed, confused.

“My beautiful mate,” Amberspots purred. “Look at you. You’re very furry. I like that.”

Coldstar immediately became flustered and started to paw at the ground with one paw.

“Why don’t you come sit with me for a while? The sun’s nice,” Amberspots went on.

Coldstar simply stared at her like a moth you had slapped in the face.

“Come on. We haven’t spent enough time together these last few moons,” Amberspots coaxed, and she was getting a little warm under her pelt herself. “And I’m not lying. The sun is very warm today.”

Coldstar nodded. Was she actually getting emotional? Amberspots wondered, and she got her answer when her mate shoved her face in her neck fur and started to whine.

“You haven’t been like this in a while,” she let out tearfully. “I can’t even speak. Let’s take advantage of this and go walk around in the forest. Come on!”

She jumped away happily.

“The forest?” Amberspots deflated, and her mate turned around.

“Sunningrocks,” Coldstar specified. “There will be even better sun there.”

“Alright,” Amberspots agreed, and so Coldstar came back and pressed herself close to guide her. “Hey! That’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not. I love you,” Coldstar cooed.

“Aw. Don’t go getting me all choked-up, now. It’s too late! I am. Mouse dung,” Amberspots muttered, but she was purring, too. “You fox-heart. Beautiful fox-heart.”

She gave her ear a lick.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Coldstar protested in a tiny voice.

“Yes, you are. You’re white like snow, with a little something warmer than white to make it look just right. Like a snow poff or something. And you’ve got those eyes,” Amberspots went on, then she suddenly became caught-up in staring at those lovely round orbs of hers that were orange and almost red in all the best ways.

She just kept staring at her mate stupidly for a few seconds that were enough to make her look very ridiculous, before licking her muzzle.

“Come on!” she added, and she ran off joyfully.

“Wait up!” Coldstar called, and she watched her mate step in the snow.

Amberspots only stopped after she was safely sitting on a log that had been spared by the snow. She started to wash herself.

"My eyes hurt from all that snow," she complained as Coldstar padded over.

"Aw," Coldstar hummed, and she gave her face a soothing lick.

"I could just keep them closed," Amberspots added, and she closed her eyes before moving her head around goofily. "How do I look?"

Coldstar purred.

"Like you, but with your eyes closed," Coldstar answered.

"You're supposed to joke back," Amberspots pouted.

"I'm busy feeling emotional," Coldstar defended herself with a good-natured purr. "You haven't acted this way in a long time."

Amberspots hummed in response and put her head on her paws.

"I have to close my eyes again," she grumbled. "Stupid eyes."

She only started purring again after having found Coldstar's shoulders, and resting her chin on them. Coldstar kept grooming her face, which was rather nice.

"You know, the past few moons have been rather uneventful for me," Amberspots said thoughtfully. "It feels like nothing happened at all. I mean, I retired as an elder, and that's pretty much it."

"We've had more time to ourselves," Coldstar added encouragingly. "Fernpaw became your brother's apprentice. Speaking of him, he's been trying to find a treatment for your illness. Oh, and your paws are better, aren't they? They haven't cracked in a while."

"Is that official? Fernpaw being the medicine cat apprentice, I mean."

Coldstar shrugged.

"I suppose that's what being an elder is like," Amberspots sighed. "Doing nothing. Being unproductive."

She yawned.

"You're too comfortable," she mumbled, and as a matter of fact, she fell asleep.

The Place she kept seeing in her dreams returned (and in her dreams, as usual, too), full of light and warmth, and this time, she saw herself with Coldstar in the middle of it. She woke up and grumbled it all away.

"Coldstar?" she called.

"Right here," Coldstar answered sleepily, and Amberspots nuzzled into her pelt, then started to groom it.

"I really love you, and I mean it. I wish we -- well -- you know, if we had been able to have kits, would you have wanted to have them?" Amnerspots asked timidly.

Coldstar licked her muzzle.

"That would have been very nice. We could have had three, and we would have named them Dawnkit, Daykit and Duskkit," she decided. "They would have been adorable. Dawnkit would have looked most like you, and the two others would have play-fought all the time. Then they would have had mates of their own, and we would have cried and called ourselves old. I mean, we can still call ourselves old anyway."

Amberspots headbutted her in refusal.

"We're very young," she protested. "And I told Ravenwhisker I wasn't going to stop hunting."

Coldstar purred, then rested her head on her mate's paws.

"Do you think you're really better?' she asked in a whisper.

"I think so. Taking a break from my duties really helped. It made me connect back with my friends, and my brother. We hadn't been this close since we were apprentices. I kept avoiding me because he fretted over me and told me to stop fighting so hard in those silly territorial disputes. And, well, you helped. I've been feeling very well today. I like spending time with you. Oh, and I had time to stop and notice the life of the Clan around me. It's awful how many things you miss when you aren't paying attention -- who likes who, and who eats with who, and all of that. So many memories came back to me. Isn't it strange? For so long, all I did was fight. But now that I'm not doing that anymore, I feel alright. Oh, fighting was nice, but just enjoying my life with you is wonderful. There's so much more to Clan life than fighting. There's love, and kits, and friendship. So many memories. I thought I needed battles for my life to make sense, but this is alright. Maybe a little boring, but I think we're alright."

Coldstar licked her muzzle happily.

"I'm glad you're feeling better."

"I'm surprised," Amberspots laughed. "Not that you're glad, but that I'm feeling better. Maybe it's because of that dream I keep having. Good dreams are nice. It could be just a few good days, but… do you think it's just a few good days?"

Coldstar nuzzled into her fur reassuringly.

"No. I promise it'll be alright. You'll keep getting better and better, until one day, the bad days are only a faint nightmare. Okay? It'll all be alright soon. If you're feeling better, then I'll do what I can to keep you this way, and I mean it. I'm glad to have chosen you as my deputy. You never stop fighting. You never give up. There's a fire in your heart that nothing will quench, and you're the strongest cat I know. So keep going, and I love you, and all that."

"And all that?" Amberspots teased.

"Mleh," Coldstar replied with a lick.

"Mleh," Amberspots mimicked, then she licked her nose. "I kind of wish we could sit here in the forest forever. Also, I like nuzzling you. And I like you. And all that."

Coldstar squashed her face in silent protest.

"I like having friends," Amberspots said thoughtfully. "And I like spending time with them. You know, in the end, I don't think it was just about Twilightpaw. Of course I was sad. She was like my own kit. She was annoying and disobedient, and she always made me run around everywhere. Now, I'm sure it doesn't do well to speak ill of the deceased!"

She purred.

"But still, maybe she would laugh."

She nodded to herself.

"Maybe she would have been happy to see me get better. And she would have made a great warrior. And you know, the funniest part of that is that she would have probably said something like "and it's all thanks to you", then made up for it with a joke like "but still, most of the talent and awesomeness is mine, and I'm the new best warrior in the Clan. It's not you anymore!" And she would have realized that she gave me a compliment anyway, and frowned."

Amberspots purred, even if her heart was sad. It felt bittersweet now. She wanted to cry, but the pain hurt a little bit less. Oh, who was she kidding? It was starting to hurt more now.

"We'll see each other in StarClan," she decided fiercely. "It's lucky I'm so old. I won't need to miss her for too long. Now, what do you say we go walk around the woods for a hunt? Just you and me?"

Coldstar stood up with her eyes glinting.

"I would say that it's a very romantic idea, and that it's very perfect, too. Are you sure that's all we'll be doing out there?"

"Oh, you," Amberspots protested. "Careful, there may be kits listening."

"No, there aren't," Coldstar soothed, and they left with their tails intertwined.

"Are we sure about that?" she fretted.

"Yes, we are," Coldstar promised. "Now come on! There are birds over there."

She ran off, then stopped, and looked back. Amberspots was looking at her with the most absurd, heart-melting expression of love on her face. Then she ran back to her mate.

"I love you," she despaired.

"I love you, too," Coldstar purred, and they faded away in the shadows of the forest, mingling with the leaves.

As a matter of fact, there had been a kit listening. Well, not really a kit. It was Tigerstorm, who was still one in Amberspots' eyes anyway. The thing is that Mooneye had been panicking about Coldstar leaving the camp for more than five minutes, and she was making fish eyes everywhere. Tigerstorm had decided to go look for them, and there she was, hiding under a bush and being assaulted by insects.

"Is this a metaphor for them dying?" Bluefeather asked when her sister came back to camp.

"What? No!" Tigerstorm wailed with a grimace. "No! They really just left to walk around in the forest."

"They're walking around in the forest? At this time of year? But Amberspots has cracked pads!" Ravenwhisker protested.

"Didn't you heal them?" Bluefeather retorted.

"Not forever!" Ravenwhisker fretted, and he joined Mooneye in making fish eyes at the entrance.

Tigerstorm found them funny and decided to join them. Beavertail also joined. There was now a little line of silly-looking cats staring at the entrance.

"Team tickters!" Beavertail exclaimed, then he whispered: "What does it stand for again?"

"Tick eaters?" Tigerstorm hesitated.

"Ew. Why would we eat ticks?" Beavertail grimaced.

"I don't know. Anyway, TICKTERS! WOOOOO!"

"TICKTERSSSSS!"

"SHUT UP!" Bluefeather hissed, embarrassed.

"WOO!" Tigerstorm shot back.

Mooneye looked at them. She was roughly their age, even if she was more serious. She considered her options.

"Woo," she said very quietly, and Bluefeather looked at her in betrayal.

"WOOOOOOOO, YOU BEETLE!" Tigerstorm wailed.

"WOOOOOOOOOOO! BUT PLEASE DON'T FIGHT!" Beavertail joined in.

"I'm leaving," Bluefeather warned.

"Why are we saying 'woo'?" Fernpaw asked in her soft, confused voice, and Mooneye's entire body perked up like an angry bamboo.

"Oh! Hello, Fernpaw! Come join us! We're waiting for our leader to come back from her walk."

"Goodbye," Bluefeather groaned, and she left with her eyes looking at the sky, asking it why this was even happening. "Don't you have a Clan to run?"

She looked around. The Clan hadn't exploded yet, but she still felt like they were behaving atrociously.

"You cats are full of chaos," she added, then she left.

Tigerstrom was getting quite insulted.

"I can't believe you were mates for a while," Tigerstorm commented, and Beavertail choked on his own spit.

He was trying not to laugh.

"No!" he protested, but he started to purr anyway. "Mouse dung!"

"We're mouse-brains, aren't we? I mean, I know I'm deputy, but she was always smarter than me," Mooneye let out regretfully.

"You're smart, too!" Tigerstorm protested. "She's just being a grumpy badger."

"Let's go back to doing whatever we were all doing," Mooneye decided anyway. "We might not be behaving properly right now."

"Bahhhh," Tigerstorm huffed. "If it'll make you feel better. Come on, Beavertail."

They ended up finding Bluefeather in the elders' den, complaining about her sister to Whitewhisker.

"It's like we live in different worlds," she muttered with her chin on her paws. "She's -- I mean -- dignity is important. Everyone's going to laugh at her. It's like back when Amberspots was deputy. Did you hear about the -- I might be too harsh here, but come on! Why are they acting silly all the time?"

She hid her face.

"I'm being too mean. I mean, they're my friends. It just -- I mean -- I don't know. I'm worried. Maybe I need to calm down. It hasn't exactly been a good couple of moons for me. Thanks, Whitewhisker. I'll see you soon. At least, they didn't hear what I said."

And with that, she left. Whitewhisker hadn't even had the chance to say anything. She looked at her mate in surprise.

"Bah. She'll be fine," Molefang answered between two licks, because he was grooming himself. "Now, please come back. You're too far away."

Whitewhisker snuggled back up with a purr.

"I don't think the Clan is half as ridiculous as she says it is," she commented. "Besides, we haven't gotten even a single border dispute in moons. We're doing amazing. It's certainly better than when we were kits. Or apprentices. Or warriors. Better than I've ever seen before, actually. Do the youngsters even know what going to battle is like?"

"Do you want them to? It still makes my stomach curl," Molefang shuddered, and Whitewhisker gave his face a reassuring lick.

"No. This is much better. We can almost forget that we're stuck between three Clans who fight all the time, and risk attacking our own. When you take a break from all that aggression, you realize how much better Clan life is without it."

"Don't be so negative. You're making me nervous," Molefang protested, and he hid his face in her paws.

"Aww. Alright. You know what the problem is? We don't have enough kittens," Whitewhisker complained, and Molefang groaned.

"You're right about that. Well, Brownbelly's expecting."

"Hmm."

Molefang mischievously crawled closer.

"You know, if Brownbelly's having kits, maybe it's not too late for us to have more," he insinuated.

Whitewhisker purred.

"It'll only take two moons, and we'll have a brand new litter," he went on. "We can find a solution to that kit problem of our own, and fast, too. It only takes two moons. Can you imagine if it took six? Or nine?"

"Nine? Now, that's ridiculous. That's almost a lifetime! A kit can go from newborn to apprentice in that time!" Whitewhisker protested.

He wiggled his whiskers mischievously. Whitewhisker purred at him.

"No," Whitewhisker answered, just to tease him.

"But!" Molefang whined pathetically, and he rolled over in despair.

She couldn't take it and started to purr.

"I'm kidding!" she laughed, and she crawled over to him. "It's funny when you get like that. Very dramatic."

"Taking advantage of my undying love for you?" Molefang protested dramatically. "I'm wounded."

"You're fine!" Whitewhisker laughed, and he purred back. "You know, I think Bluefeather isn't with Mooneye anymore."

"Never really believed in them," Molefang commented. "They didn't even make it official. That, and I don't think they were good for each other."

Whitewhisker nodded.

"I was hoping they would make it work," she agreed. "But maybe they're just distant, and they haven't separated."

"Bluefeather said it had been a rough couple of moons. I haven't seen them sit together in a while. That, and I always felt like Mooneye liked Fernpaw more."

"I thought she was just curious about why Fernpaw kept making excuses to miss her final exam," Whitewhisker commented.

"What? Of course not. Mooneye's been looking at her like a rabbit looks at good grass for at least two Gatherings. I don't even know why she and Bluefeather got together in the first place."

"Because Bluefeather confessed to her," Whitewhisker explained.

"Right. Hey, Fernpaw's very small. I swear she's still a kitten."

Whitewhisker purred.

"Hey, Tinystep is small, too."

"Well, Tinystep may be small, but Lightslap wasn't."

Whitewhisker hesitated.

"Well, he was never the tallest cat, either. Also, he was very ugly."

That made her mate laugh.

"You know who was tall?" Molefang asked.

"Yellowstar."

"Yellowstar," Molefang nodded.

"Tinystep is so small. She's my tiny baby sister," Whitewhisker cooed.

"Shut up!" came Tinystep's irritated meow from the entrance, blocked partially by the squirrels she was carrying. "How come I always arrive at the worst moments?"

"Give us the squirrels," Whitewhisker interrupted, suddenly very hungry.

"Is it mealtime already?" Molefang protested. "What time is it?"

"Sunhigh," Tinystep said, and Molefang made a face.

"What? Already?"

He took a few steps outside.

"Well, it is sunhigh! StarClan almighty! I've been sitting here all day."

He came back.

"It's a shame," he said with a shake of his head. "Oh, hey! Here comes Fernpaw!"

"Hello," greeted Fernpaw with a mouse in her jaws.

Mooneye was lying down on top of her rock and staring at Fernpaw. Her pelt was the softest, and her voice was the softest, and her color was the softest. She was very soft indeed. She decided that she was her Fernpaw, and that she would die for her. Bluefeather was glaring at her old mate from the entrance to the warriors' den while she angrily destroyed a mole with her teeth.

"I'm going to drool on yours, Whitewhisker," Tinystep warned.

"Noooo!" Whitewhisker yowled. "Give me the food. I'm sorry!"

"I'm not that cruel," Tinystep laughed, and she gave everyone a squirrel. "And before you ask why I'm not feeding my daughter, she only wanted a mouse."

"Yes," Fernpaw nodded.

"We were just saying that Lightslap was ugly," Molefang said counterproductively.

"I don't have enough spit to drool on all of those squirrels," Tinystep joked, and everyone groaned in disgust, except Fernpaw, who was used to gruesome sights and ideas. "I liked his face. Oh, and you should see Fernpaw at work! It's like she's been a medicine cat all her life. She's doing wonderfully. I hope she gets her medicine cat name soon. What would you like to be called, sweetie?"

"I don't know," Fernpaw replied. "I like ferns, so I'm happy anyway."

"That's great, but what I want to know is who she'll be mates with," Whitewhisker interrupted. "There aren't a lot of apprentices this year, but there are a lot of young warriors. Let's see, who would you like?"

"I can't have a mate. I'm a medicine cat," Fernpaw reminded her.

"I forgot," Molefang admitted.

"Right! Right! We've never heard of a medicine cat breaking those rules," she answered sarcastically.

"I don't think I will," the apprentice replied peacefully.

"You know who I see you with?" Molefang asked anyway. "Mooneye."

"It's barely a rule anymore. Everyone keeps breaking it. I'm more surprised nowadays to hear of a medicine cat who's never had secret kits. Anyway, Mooneye is a big softie, and she could protect you if anything happened."

Mooneye was conveniently heading over. She couldn't find herself a proper excuse, but she wanted to see Fernpaw.

"Please don't say things like that. I'm a medicine cat," Fernpaw was saying, then she turned around and spotted Mooneye. "Hello, Mooneye! Would you like to sit with us?"

"Of course!" Mooneye blubbered, and she sat down with unusual clumsiness. "Um. Ravenwhisker's worried about Amberspots' pads. He says they crack often. She's been on a walk for a while, and Coldstar, too. Do you think they're alright?"

"Oh, I'm sure they are!" Fernpaw replied enthusiastically. "They might be a little tired, that's all. We could always prepare things in advance for when they come back."

"We're back!" said Amberspots just as she was finishing her sentence.

There was the sound of Ravenwhisker fretting over his sister, and the sound of his sister being annoyed at him. Fernpaw purred.

"I'm sure he has things handled," she let out, and she went back to eating.

She didn't notice that Mooneye was looking at her like she was seeing a StarClan warrior in the flesh -- well, not in the flesh, but in the stardust.

"Fernpaw, do you want to go take a walk with me after you're finished eating?" she ended up asking desperately.

"Sure!" Fernpaw purred.

"She sounds as nervous as if she wanted to pop the question," Molefang whispered to his mate, who purred.

"Shh!" she protested. "Mooneye, do you agree that there should be more kits in ThunderClan?"

"She won't ask, but she should," Molefang added.

Whitewhisker tried not to laugh. Tinystep put her paw on her face to silence her.

Mooneye nodded.

"Kits are always a good sign of prosperity," she shrugged.

"Do you want some? Of your own?" Whitewhisker insisted.

"Maybe?" Mooneye eyebrowed.

"Then marry someone!" Whitewhisker exclaimed, and Mooneye made an irritated face that had Fernpaw burst into purrs.

Mooneye became distracted, because she was too pretty. Bluefeather popped her head out of the warriors' den to see what was happening, then went back, grumbling and hissing under her breath. Mooneye looked back, because she thought she heard something, then grimaced as she saw the tip of Bluefeather's tail disappear behind the bushes. Fernpaw heard her sigh, and turned to her in concern.

"Mooneye? Is something wrong?" she worried.

"Ah. It's fine. It's just -- well, me and Bluefeather were together for a while. I didn't feel like it would lead anywhere, so I broke it up."

Fernpaw kept looking at her. It made Mooneye a little flustered.

"That's sad," Fernpaw tried.

"More for her than for me. I never felt very strongly about her. I mean, I liked her as a cat, but -- I don't know. I thought it would develop over time. I feel awful about it," Mooneye admitted. "I mean, I'm sure I feel too guilty about it. It's better not to stay together if you don't feel anything, right?"

"Did you tell her that? In those words?" Molefang grimaced.

"Maybe? Something like that. I'm not very delicate. Neither is she," Mooneye defended herself.

"That's nonsense! You're very delicate!" Fernpaw protested. "And considerate towards Coldstar, too."

Fernpaw's thoughts kept making the list of compliments longer. Mooneye was apso very brave, very sturdy, and she had big floofy paws. She looked strange and beautiful, like no other cat. Fernpaw asked herself why she suddenly felt like she was choking on something. She breathed in deeply and let the cold air wake up her lungs.

"You know, mother and father here have been trying to convince me to break the code and get a mate of my own," she let out teasingly. "I don't know if it's a good idea."

"Hey, are you alright?" Mooneye immediately said, because of course she would notice.

"I'm fine. It's just -- I don't know," Fernpaw lied, and she felt bad, so she backtracked. "No, I know what makes me sad. It's just that it's a little bit uncomfortable of a topic."

"You're sad?" Mooneye fretted.

She had very beautiful mismatched eyes, and a pelt that was brown and grey and striped -- so beautiful and odd and wonderful -- Fernpaw decided that she was absurd. Or perhaps it wasn't absurd.

"Well, breaking the medicine cat code is a big deal," she answered. "I know that having kits or falling in love is nothing wrong in itself. It's about making sure you put the Clan first. I mean, I'm sure everyone would understand a medicine cat who puts their own kittens first."

"Who wouldn't?" Tinystep nodded. "It would be very inhumane to ask the opposite of a mother, or a father."

"I suppose that's true, but the rules remain the same," Fernpaw sighed. "I've heard of plenty of medicine cats who waited until they retired to be with the one they loved. I think it's very romantic."

Mooneye purred, because her parents had been some of them.

"Still -- can you imagine spending your whole life with someone waiting for the day you could snuggle close to them and share the same bedding?" she commented. "I think my parents were incredibly brave."

"I think you inherited their courage," Fernpaw complimented.

Mooneye became flustered.

"Why would you say that?" she muttered.

"I've seen you fight that badger," Fernpaw reminded her.

Tinystep breathed in sharply. Fernpaw licked her muzzle reassuringly.

"What badger? I don't know that story," Whitewhisker commented softly.

"It was that badger," Tinystep choked out.

"Oh. Come on, Tinystep. Let's go get some air," Whitewhisker decided, and she pulled her sister out of the den.

Everyone stayed in silence for a few seconds. Amberspots peeked in, and saw that the den was quite crowded, so she disappeared.

"What's the problem?" Molefang protested.

"She was attacked by badgers," Fernpaw explained. "She would have died, had Mooneye not been there. With the way she was standing there between the badger and my mother, she looked just as big as it was, and she hit it like she was one of its kind. It ran off after she bit its nose too hard."

"It's a dreadful topic," Mooneye interrupted.

"It made her one of the greats, like Amberspots and Saltstar," Fernpaw went on with a purr.

"Saltstar and her both have giant paws," Molefang laughed.

"Please stop," Mooneye whined, and she hid her face, embarrassed.

"With Amberspots, it's her teeth and claws you need to watch out for! I sparred with her once. I could have become crow-food, I'm telling you! She spars with her claws out!" Molefang puffed.

"What?" Mooneye squinted, and Fernpaw purred, because her insulted face was funny. "No, she doesn't."

"Well, I still felt them anyway."

"That's because you're very sensitive," Amberspots cooed from the entrance.

Molefang dramatically fell to the side.

"No! Don't take your revenge!" he squeaked, and everyone purred.

"Of course not. I won that fight," Amberspots laughed. "Alright. Well, I heard my name. I'll go now."

She left, but reappeared a second after.

"Also, I don't spar with my claws out."

"Why do you hear everything? You're old!" Whitewhisker protested.

"You're old!" Amberspots teased back.

"We're all old!" Molefang added.

"Not Tinystep. She's a tiny kitten!" Whitewhisker cooed

"No!" Tinystep protested, much like a kitten. "Someone please make kittens so she leaves me alone."

"Brownbelly's expecting," Amberspots informed them helpfully.

"Right, right. Well, someone else make kittens, and faster! It'll take too long," Tinystep complained.

"I know!" Brownbelly complained back. "I wish they were here already!"

"Brownbelly's expecting?" Crowface exclaimed, and the Clan erupted into chaos.

Bluefeather became very annoyed.

"Are you finished eating? Now go for that walk! Goodbye!" Molefang pressed, and he pushed the two young cats out of the den.

"Will everyone stop?" Bluefeather yelled.

A few cats stopped, but mostly everyone ignored her. Her tail started lashing from side to side in frustration. Everyone was being loud, and ridiculous.

"You know what? Fine!" she yelled. "I'm taking a break from living in a Clan!"

She stormed off and disappeared in the forest.

Chapter 37: Cats leaving Clans

Summary:

kind of a short chapter, but hey, it was really sad, especially since I love my sister. but hey, this isn't the last we see of Bluefeather!

“What? Bluefeather!” Tigerstorm cried, and she ran after her sister.

“You’re all being ridiculous!” Bluefeather hissed back, and she didn’t slow down, so Tigerstorm had to squint to make out her fur in the shadowy undergrowth.

It didn’t help that Bluefeather was tortoiseshell-and-white. Snow was white, shadows were black, and trees were red. Perfectly annoying in every way, unlike her personality, which was mostly just annoying. But Bluefeather was her sister, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t love her a lot despite all the nonsense and the insults she had been giving her like they were the air Tigerstorm needed to breathe.

“Bluefeather! But we were getting along better! You can’t leave now!” Tigerstorm wailed again, and this time, she sounded worried. “Where did you even go? Are you hiding in a tree?”

“I’m not. This isn’t funny! Life isn’t a comedy,” Bluefeather muttered, but this time, instead of simply being irritated, she sounded vaguely apologetic.

Tigerstorm paused, then made a pout, and slumped down on the ground until she was comfortably sitting in a knot of roots.

“Well, I’m going to sit here, then,” she decided, and Bluefeather groaned.

“You’re being ANNOYING!” she yelled, as if it was the worst insult in the world. “I’m trying to be SERIOUS and make a name for myself and you can’t stop ANNOYING ME all the time!”

Tigerstorm finally made out two blue eyes filled with hurt that were staring back at her from under a bush.

“What the mouse?” Tigerstorm finally said, because her insults didn’t even make sense.

“Stop having fun! This isn’t fun! This is ThunderClan! This is serious! Cats die, and things go wrong, and I wish you would just stop having so much fun all the time!” Bluefeather snapped, and her tail swished from side to side so hard that the bush wiggled. “Things won’t get better just because you’re having fun.”

Bluefeather sighed.

“Being a warrior kind of sucks,” she whispered. “I thought it would be fun. So maybe I should be a rogue instead. Hunt rabbits. But then again, living in the forest is dangerous, and sickness happens to rogues, too, except they die and -- my point is that Clan life is dangerous, and despite everyone acting like we’re all having a lot of relaxing fun over here, we’re all in danger all the time. I don’t know why you’re so happy all the time, but I wish you weren’t.”

Tigerstorm approached the bush timidly, since she could feel her sister softening up to her presence.

“Twilightpaw died. Mother and Father abandoned us. I broke up with Mooneye.”

She sniffed, and Tigerstorm felt sadness fog up her chest, too.

“But I had a dream before it all turned bad. It was a nice dream. I dreamed that I was with kittens, and a nice molly, and everything was fine. Everyone was purring. And -- it was --”

She paused, trying to find a way to explain the sheer warmth and color of the dream. It had been so orange and glowing and lovely.

“It was just nice, and I feel like I could find this place if I really tried.”

She stopped talking again. There was an idea in her head she didn’t dare pronounce, but luckily for her, Tigerstorm spoke first.

“I’m sorry about you and Mooneye. I meant it earlier. I mean, Fernpaw’s a good friend of mine, but I’m still -- well, I can’t really beat her up, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

Bluefeather’s paws hesitantly appeared out of the bush as she stretched.

“I guess nobody’s died in a while,” she let out. “I guess that’s good. I’m sorry about earlier. I mean, about like ten seconds ago. And you weren't there, but I talked to Whitewhisker about how annoyed I was with you earlier. Sorry about that, too.”

“Well, I wasn’t there,” Tigerstorm shrugged. “But thanks.”

Bluefeather shrugged and sank deeper into her bush.

“There are only so many cats in ThunderClan I could end up mating with. Maybe I should check out the other Clans. Or maybe I should just go rogue for a while.”

Bluefeather paused, trying to imagine her life in her head.

“But what if you get sick?” Tigerstorm fretted.

“Then I’ll come back, I guess. I mean, I was a medicine cat for a while. I can take care of myself. Maybe I’ll end up teaching the rogues around here a thing or two about medicine, too.”

Tigerstorm put her head on her paws.

“Do you really want to leave?” she let out.

The bush shuffled. She assumed that it meant that Bluefeather had shrugged from underneath it. Tigerstorm looked at the ground. The mere idea of ever leaving her Clan made her shiver, but this was Blufeather, not her.

“Maybe living in a Clan isn’t for everyone,” she muttered half-heartedly.

“I guess not. Not this Clan, at the very least. I mean, switching Clans could result in us fighting each other, and, well, I don’t want that.”

“I guess not,” Tigerstorm mumbled unhappily, and she sank deeper into her paws. “Where would you go?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been having this dream about like, this place far away. It’s really warm and comforting, and I see kittens and a molly. I could go there. Or head over there anyway. Maybe I’ll make friends along the way and stop travelling.”

Tigerstorm sniffed.

“You’ll come back, right? Eventually? Or you’ll visit? You won’t stay away forever?” she let out tearfully.

“Aw, Tigerstorm,” Bluefeather let out, and her sister spontaneously entered the bush to snuggle close.

Bluefeather decided to accept the snuggle and rested her head on top of her sister’s stupid ginger pelt that she was probably going to miss a lot more than she expected.

“I only have one sister, you know, and you’re not rude enough so I don’t care about you,” Tigerstorm explained sadly.

Bluefeather squinted, but it was more playful than anything.

“And you’re not annoying enough so I don’t care, either. And thanks for not -- I don’t know, for being serious right now.”

Tigerstorm’s tail flicked to the side, but she didn’t answer anything. Then she moved away and lightly shoved her to the side.

“You should go, or I’ll get even more sad.”

“Shut up. We haven’t shared tongues in like, three Gatherings.”

“I’m not moving. I’m too sad.”

“Stop being sad!” Bluefeather chided, and it earned her a little purr.

“I’m not sure if I want you to go right now or if I want to stay here longer,” Tigerstorm commented in a little voice.

Bluefeather licked the top of her head, then hesitantly rested it more comfortably against her shoulderplates. It was surprisingly tender. She stayed there in silence for a while. She was starting to feel sad, too, and found that she couldn’t bring herself to stand up and out of that stupid bush when she tried to.

“Alright, come on. I promise that if I find a molly and have kittens, I’ll come back to show them to you. Or if I’m dying. Or something else worth coming back for.”

“But Bluefeather,” Tigerstorm whispered, and she looked at her own soft underbelly. “I’m going to have kittens of my own in only a few moons, too.”

Bluefeather paused.

“How many?”

“I don’t know yet. Probably a lot of them, because I’m showing wayyyy too much.”

Bluefeather purred. A long time ago, Bluekit would have said “hehehehe. Fat” and poked her belly.

“Your belly will probably never go back to normal if you have as many kittens as you think. It might stay stretched forever,” Bluefeather warned instead, and she knew that it wasn’t the right thing to say at all, but it was all she had. “Hopefully, it won’t hinder you when you run, or catch in branches, or get you murdered.”

She paused.

“Congratulations anyway,” she let out awkwardly. “I’m not a medicine cat anymore, so I can’t help you when you give birth, but hey, Ravenwhisker will do a great job. He’s got experience. Besides, it doesn’t hurt for that long. I mean, they’re kittens, not badger cubs. You’ll be fine. But take something for the pain. And something for the milk before you give birth, because they’ll be hungry. They’re always hungry, and you have a lot.”

“I probably won’t remember any of that,” Tigerstorm warned.

“Yeah, but Ravenwhisker will do that for you anyway. And if you ever want them to meet me, you know where I’ll be going.”

“Not really,” Tigerstorm hesitated.

“To the Place where Stars Dance. It’s kind of like I know which direction to take. I should probably go.”

She stood up and shook herself free of any snow or leaves.

“But --” Tigerstorm protested, and she stood up, too, without bothering to remove the debris.

But Bluefeather shot her a look that meant “don’t argue”, so she didn’t argue. She pouted a little bit.

“Fine. Have fun. Come visit. And don’t die,” she added.

Bluefeather nodded. Her eyes were glinting with excitement.

“Goodbye!

She was about to bounce away enthusiastically when she thought that maybe she ought to say something before regretting it forever.

“And, um, I love you.”

She paused.

“But not in that way,” she frowned, but her sister was already all over her.

“I love you, too, Bluefeather. Stay safe.”

Then she moved away, and Bluefeather shot her one last look before running off into the undergrowth.

Chapter 38: And cats joining them

Summary:

I don't actually remember why this chapter is named that? Anyway, enjoy!

When Tigerstorm headed back to camp about two minutes later, she felt like her heart was bleeding. She sat down nowhere specific and stared at nothing. She tried to imagine her sister finding a mate and settling down, and it worked to make her feel better for a while.

She quickly decided that she didn’t want to think about it anymore and looked around to find Beavertail. She found him shuffling around in the fresh-kill pile until he found her favorite food, then posting himself at the entrance to the camp to wait for her to come back. It immediately brought a purr to her throat. When her mate finally realized that she was already back, he sat next to her and pressed their pelts together. Tigerstorm looked down at her paws again, and shrugged, as though she was pretending that it was no big deal.

“She left the Clan,” she dropped. “But she’ll visit. Probably. She said she might. Or would. I don’t know. She was really mad, but I think we’re friends again.”

She swallowed back her sadness and looked at her meal.

“Anyway, kitten names?” she let out.

“What for?” Beavertail protested.

“I think this isn’t just fat. I’m expecting,” she explained, and Beavertail stared at her like his brain had stopped working.

“What?” he managed to pronounce after about twenty seconds of staring.

Then his gaze started to shift, and it went from loving to emotional as she repeated her sentence:

“We’re going to have kittens,” she purred, and she licked his ear.

“No, we’re not,” he let out in a wheeze.

“But we are,” Tigerstorm insisted.

Beavertail started to make his I’ve-been-hit-by-a-monster face.

“What?” he said again, then he shook his head. “We should go see Ravenwhisker.”

But instead of moving, he stared into the abyss. Tigerstorm considered it, then started to pad away.

“I could go see him myself,” she tried, but he wiggled in protest.

“No! I should go, too. It’s only fair, if I’m to be their fa -- am I the father?”

“Yes!” Tigerstorm protested.

“No, I mean -- I can’t -- I can’t even think about it. I think I’m dying,” he added.

“I think you’re dying, too.”

Beavertail rolled on his back.

“Leave me here to die,” he joked.

“Stop dying!” Tigerstorm wailed, and she tried to push him to a standing position.

Beavertail purred and stood up to give a lick to her annoyed face.

“Aww. You’re so angry. It’s kinda cute. You know the only bad part about this? We can’t scream “TEAM TICKTERS” if we have kittens to take care of.”

Tigerstorm briefly burrowed into his fur, then kept pushing him to the medicine cat’s den. Beavertail let out a choked purr and followed her nervously.

"Are we really going to have kittens? But we're not ready!" he fretted.

"I think it's too late for that," Tigerstorm commented. "Besides, how ready do we really need to be?"

"What if a kit's sick?"

"We can go see the medicine cat."

"What if one of them's odd?"

"Medicine cat."

"Blind?"

"Medicine cat."

"Well, what if it's something medicine can't fix? What if they're missing an eye? Or don't have all their limbs?"

Tigerstorm shrugged.

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Why aren't you panicking?" Beavertail wailed.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. As long as we love them and try to understand how they feel, we'll do great. I mean, kits can talk. We can always ask them. Or ask your mother. Or anyone else who's had kits. Or, again --"

"The medicine cat," Beavertail sighed.

He sat back down.

"Am I cheering you up properly?" Tigerstorm purred sheepishly.

Beavertail looked up with her with a laugh.

"Kind of?"

Tigerstorm started pacing in place.

"I want to meet the kits!" she whined. "Come on, let's go!"

"Why don't we wait a bit? We haven't even eaten yet," Beavertail purred. "Come on. I'm really hungry.

"I'm a little hungry," Tigerstorm conceded, and she sat down. "Wow, I almost forgot that Bluefeather left the Clan."

Beavertail licked her ear gently.

"I wonder how we'll tell everyone," she murmured, and as she said it, her mood dropped considerably.

"Come on. Eat, you'll feel better," Beavertail soothed, and she took a small bite.

"I just -- she hadn't even told me about it before it happened. I assume she thought about it, but she didn't tell me. I don't know what to do. You know, talking about it isn't helping me feel better. Eating is. A little bit. Why do sad things happen like that? It's annoying. Twilightpaw, then Amberspots was sick, and now this."

She put her cheek on Beavertail's paws, and accidentally fell asleep. Beavertail sat there with his eyes in the clouds until he started to purr.

"We're having kittens," he let out in a sing-song voice. "Kittens, kittens…"

He vibrated so hard in his excitement that Tigerstorm fell asleep, and he licked her nose happily.

“We’re having KITTENS!” he screeched, and he kept grooming her muzzle. “You’ll see, I’ll be the best father ever. We’ll be so happy! Did you already think about names? I’m so excited! Kittens! Should we name one Tickkit?”

Tigerstorm purred at that. Maybe things would be alright after all.

***

Once upon a time, Coldyarrow had approached one of her friends by the warrior’s den.

“Hey, Amberspots,” she had greeted tentatively.

“Hi, Coldyarrow,” Amberspots answered morosely.

“What’s wrong?” Coldyarrow worried, and she eyed the ground next to her.

Amberspots nodded for her to sit down, and so she happily did.

“Well, the cat I like just had --”

She stopped herself before she could betray herself by giving the much too specific information that the cat just had kittens.

“Just took a mate. So, well, that’s that.”

“Oh,” Coldyarrow let out. “I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t help but feel cheerful. She was sitting next to Amberspots, after all.

“Yeah, well, it never could have worked anyway,” Amberspots sighed. “They only ever liked one cat, and it wasn’t me.”

Coldyarrow nodded at the cautious use of “they”, hoping that maybe it meant what she was hoping that it meant.

“Can I know who it is?” she asked tentatively.

“Maybe I’ll tell you later. I’m not in a talking mood. More of a cheer-me-up-please mood.”

Amberspots rested her head on her paws and shot her a glance.

“What kind of cats do you like?” Coldyarrow tried.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I’m kind of pessimistic about it. I know, I’ve been rejected once, it happens, but still. I have no idea who else to… pursue, I guess.”

Coldyarrow nodded.

“I like cats with spots.”

Amberspots purred.

“It sounds like an infection when you say it like that.”

Coldyarrow purred a little too loudly. She was interrupted by her apprentice Grasspaw, who collided into her like a very angry branch.

“Woops! Sorry!” he squeaked, before running off back to his friends.

They were playing with a ball of moss together.

“Wait!” Coldyarrow laughed. “Come on. All this energy should be used for your training. Maybe Amberspots can come and help you practice, too. Maybe you’ll even survive.”

“Really?” Grasspaw squeaked, unfazed by his teasing. "Okay!"

He darted away excitedly. Amberspots let out a purr.

"He's so adorable!" she commented. "Meanwhile, Twilightpaw never does what I tell her to do."

"Ha-ha!" came Twilightpaw's victorious mew.

"What is it?" Amberspots asked.

"I mean, it's true," Twilightpaw explained.

"Stop being proud of it!"

Twilightpaw considered it.

"Nah."

"Yesterday, she took all the kittens on a walk around camp," Amberspots went on. "They were adorable. They looked so proud. Little proud fluffballs."

"Are you happy with me or not?" Twilightpaw protested.

"Both! You kept telling them all your revolutionary ideas and teaching them stupid things."

"No, I wasn't," Twilightpaw pouted.

"When are we going to go train?" Grasspaw whined.

"Look! It's the kittens!" Amberspots suddenly shrieked as tiny little faces appeared cautiously behind the taller heads of grass.

"Hello!" Coldyarrow purred.

"Am kit," one of them mumbled.

Amberspots and Coldyarrow looked at each other, then kept purring.

"Aren't you a little young to be wandering around camp -- Twilightpaw?" Amberspots squinted.

"He likes to walk!" Twilightpaw defended herself.

"No!" Bouncykit huffed.

"That's a molly," Grasspaw corrected.

Amberspots decided that this kitten was hers now. And also the other one, Sleepykit, who was sleeping now, because she was very tired. She had walked a long way, after all.

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I didn't look!" Twilightpaw rebutted poutingly.

Coldstar picked up the sleeping kit and looked around for her mother. Brownbelly was lazily sunbathing next to the nursery walls.

"Hey, Brownbelly, are these kittens yours?"

"They are! Mine and Leafsong's!" Brownbelly purred, overjoyed.

Coldyarrow hesitated, then put the kit back on the ground. Sleepykit rolled away and yawned.

"I hope nothing happens to them," she whispered to Amberspots.

"I'm sure they'll be fine. We haven't had any sicknesses in a while."

But Coldyarrow winced at the mention of sickness. Amberspots noticed.

"Just look at how happy they are!" she said to distract her. "Here, have one."

She plopped Bouncykit on her paws. Bouncykit wobbled around and made little noises. It made Coldyarrow purr again.

"You know, they start whining everytime Leafsong leaves," Brownbelly appeared to say. "I think it's very sweet. Very sad, too, of course. I'm just glad they love him."

"Say, do you know who's taken a mate lately?" Coldyarrow asked playfully. "I'm investigating something."

"Well, there's me and Leafsong, but we've been together for a few moons already."

"You don't like to walk?" Amberspots cooed to Bouncykit.

"Nuh," Bouncykit mewed.

"But you just walked all the way here!" Amberspots laughed.

"Eeeeh," Bouncykit answered, and she waddled all the way back to her mother (another incredibly long trek) to nuzzle in her belly.

"Are you hungry?" Brownbelly purred tenderly.

"Yeh," the kit mumbled.

Brownbelly looked at her friends.

"She's been talking for a few days now. Isn't she adorable?" she cooed, before picking up her baby and going back to the nursery with it.

Amberspots looked down at Sleepykit, but she was still sleeping. She decided to groom her fuzzy little pelt, but bumped heads with Coldyarrow, who had had the same idea. They purred, and as they crossed eyes, Coldyarrow became very shy.

"You would be a good mother. You can't give up your search for a mate just yet, it would be too much of a shame," she sputtered.

Amberspots nodded. She seemed pleased by the compliment. As she bent her head to lick the kit's minuscule head, and inwardly cooed about how she had forgotten that kits were so small and cute, Coldyarrow sat there and looked at her.

"I mean, unless your mystery cat was a molly. Then it wouldn't change much," she let out tentatively.

For some reason, Amberspots' silence drove her to empty her heart of everything she wanted to say. And it worked, because her beautiful ginger friend looked up at her with these lovely amber eyes of hers.

"Yeah. It was a molly, actually. Uh."

She looked around for any eavesdroppers, then noticed that Grasspaw's face was right there next to her. She frowned, and Coldyarrow couldn't help but burst into purrs.

"Wait, we were supposed to go train them for battle," Coldyarrow remembered nervously.

"No, keep going," Grasspaw answered mischievously.

"No, thank you," Amberspots purred, amused, before turning back to Coldyarrow, who was looking down at her paws uneasily. "It's alright. It's not like we're under orders to do it today."

"Right. It just feels silly that we said we would do something and haven't done it for ages."

"I don't think Twilightpaw cares," Amberspots answered, and they looked around for her.

She had scampered away to the medicine den to go talk to Bluepaw.

"This is also interesting," Grasspaw supplied.

"Why don't you go help the elders with their ticks instead? I think that's what Twilightpaw is doing, too," Amberspots laughed.

"Noooo! It smells so baaaad!" Grasspaw whined desperately. "And we were going to trainnnnn."

He looked up at his mentor pleadingly. Coldyarrow purred and licked his head.

"Do it quickly, and we'll go right afterwards. Get Twilightpaw on it as well," she decided, and Grasspaw grumbled as he walked away.

He turned around to give her one last pitiful look.

"Stop that!" she called, and so he kept walking. "Do you remember if you liked training as much as they do when you were an apprentice?"

"I think so! But I hated how I wasn't allowed to actually fight anyone for real. We kept practicing the movements alone instead of practicing them in a fake fight. That was boring," Amberspots recollected.

"You made up for that," Coldyarrow purred, and Amberspots nodded happily.

"It's not as much about posture as training teaches you. It's mostly about not giving up. Who cares how you fight? As long as you win the fight, you did good."

"Do you even like training?" Coldyarrow asked.

"Not really. I mean, not all of it. Battles aren't very joyful occasions, of course, and, well, getting cut hurts, but at least, I get to -- how do you say -- vent out all my frustrations on something. I can still hit cats in training, but lately, I've been told to calm down," Amberspots added with a chuckle. "I say, if they won't get any battles for me to fight in, they have to let me hit someone else. It's only fair."

"Who's they? Yellowstar?"

"Yellowstar?" Lightslap raised his head to say from where he was taking in the sun on the Highrock.

"Yellowstar?" Featherleaf repeated happily.

"Oh no, is it my assessment?" Ravenwhisker fretted, waking up with a start in the middle of his herbs.

"You've already passed it," his old mentor reminded him from where he was sharing a rabbit with his mate in front of the elders' den.

"So many moons ago. Sooooo many," Amberspots added with a purr. "You're so ooooold."

"What? Me? What's everyone yammering on about?" Yellowstar protested, amused.

"What? Yellowstar? What? What's going on? Is somebody having kits?" Graystar came out of his den to yell.

"What? No!" Amberspots protested.

She was getting very confused.

"Brownbelly had kits," Briarspark commented.

"I'm Yellowstar's kit," Moonpaw said, and she went back to pushing Lightslap away from the Highrock. "Get off, Lightslap! You're not deputy anymore."

Ravenwhisker made a face, because Graystar was pretty, before going back to the nap he had started that had been rudely interrupted. Bluepaw shook her head from where she was messing around and putting herbs on her mentor's face.

"Why is everyone being silly?" she grumbled.

Twilightpaw shrugged.

Near the nursery, Coldyarrow and Amberspots were still watchinv over the kit. Tigerpaw had joined then. She was still very small and fuzzy, as though her kitten fur hadn't fallen off yet.

"So who's Yellowstar again?" she chirped.

"She's our old leader."

"Why do we have two leaders?"

"Because Yellowstar decided to retire before her time."

"Then who's Graystar?"

"He's our new leader."

"Who's Beechstep? Is it true that she's from RiverClan?"

"Yes, it's true."

"Then does she still smell like mud and water?"

"They don't really smell like that," Amberspots purred. "It's just something cats say to insult them, just like they say ShadowClan cats smell like rotten food and thunderpaths. WindClan cats do smell like wind, though. It's quite a nice smell."

Coldyarrow asked herself if she ought to run around in the moor more often to smell like wind, too.

"Amberspots? When can we train?"

Amberspots purred again.

"I don't know, honey."

"What's a honey?"

"It's something very sweet and orange-colored, like you. Bees make it in their homes. It's good for the throat, and very sticky."

"Pee is orange."

"Pee should not be orange," Amberspots warned. "You need to drink more water if it's orange."

Coldyarrow looked at her friend tenderly.

"Amberspots? Why aren't you my mentor?" Tigerpaw whined.

"Because I already have an apprentice."

"But can you tell her she's not your apprentice and then be my mentor?" Tigerpaw pleaded.

"No, honey. That would be very rude to her."

"But can my mentor change apprentices with you? I don't want my mentor," Tigerpaw pouted.

"Who's your mentor? Briarspark, right?" Amberspots asked, and she nodded. "Briarspark was my mentor, too. She trained me to be a very good warrior."

"But I don't want herrrrr. I want youuuuu."

"I think you'll be her last apprentice. That means you'll be very important to her."

Tigerpaw pouted for a second, then lightened up.

"Okay! Can I stay here?"

"Of course," Amberspots purred, and so Tigerpaw settled down and snuggled close.

Their pelts were both orange, even if one was lined with dark stripes and the other was full of brown and red splotches like leaves. Amberspots thought sometimes that she could have been her daughter. Then she looked back at Sleepykit, who wasn't done with her nap yet, and purred. Sleepykit was white, almost the same color as Coldyarrow, who was cream-colored. It struck her that her friend had a beautiful pelt. It also struck her that these kits looked like they could be theirs.

She didn't care much about the thought right now, and went back to feeling morose about Brownbelly's newest litter. She had given birth to so many kits already -- Tinykit, Whitekit, Crowkit, Mousekit -- and these kits had had kittens of their own already -- Grasskit, Fernkit, Bluekit, Tigerkit. Now these kits were becoming warriors and medicine cats. It was ridiculous.

She felt old for a second. They had done so much with their lives already, and time moved so fast, but she still felt like she hadn't had any time to figure out where she stood on anything. Everyone was mating and having kits, and she was just… a warrior. And there was her mother…

"Hey, Amberspots?" Coldyarrow suddenly asked, and she snapped out of her depressing thoughts.

"Uh? Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

Amberspots shrugged.

"Isn't it weird how some of us will live through two leaderships in their lifetime?" she let out distantly. "I just feel like it's weird that, say, Tigerpaw knows Yellowstar while Graystar is the leader. It's so weird."

She shook her head again.

"I'm sorry. I might need a distraction."

Her friend stood up.

"Come on, then. Let's take a walk. Maybe?" Coldyarrow hesitated. "The kit's still there. Uhhhh."

She sat back down. Tigerpaw was still sleeping, too.

"Maybe you could distract yourself by playing with it," she chuckled sheepishly.

Amberspots gave it an absent-minded lick.

"Is Yellowstar still sick? And I heard Graystar didn't have his nine lives, and that's why you and Ravenwhisker are so careful with him. I don't like how all of these generations can cohabit. Exist at the same time. It's weird. Yellowstar is old. Tigerpaw is so small. She's barely an apprentice. This is all very odd."

"Hey, Ravenwhisker?" she heard Coldyarrow call.

"Honestly, it's freaking me out," she went on.

"What? What's going on?" Tigerpaw chirped sleepily, and she stretched her paws. "Right. Amberspots? When can we train?"

Amberspots looked down at her and purred.

"Not now."

"She's all distant and cloudy-feeling," Coldyarrow was fretting somewhere close by.

"It happens sometimes," Ravenwhisker soothed. "Ever since Mother…"

He shrugged.

"Amberspots?"

"Stop fretting! And I hear you talking about me," Amberspots rasped.

"Sorry!" Coldyarrow chirped sheepishly.

"Not sorry!" Ravenwhisker added.

"You know, now that I'm an apprentice, I can be better friends with Beaverpaw. Then maybe we can be mates. I mean, I hope he likes me, because he's very perfect."

"He looks like Leafsong," Amberspots criticized, trying to ignore her friends' worried muttering. "And you're too small for that."

"No, he doesn't! He's way prettier, and his paws are bigger. Also, he's smaller. And nice to snuggle with. Probably."

Tigerpaw looked down shyly.

"You're --" Amberspots tried, but her mind drew a blank.

She shook her head again. Maybe they ought to have gone to train instead. She looked around and saw that Sleepykit was wiggling around.

"Look at this kit," she said instead. "I like kits."

"Me too!" Tigerpaw squeaked. "I wonder if Beaverpaw likes kits. Does he want to have any? I mean, not with me, or right now, but like, in the future. Amberspots, do I look pretty? I'm going to go talk to him."

"Isn't he out hunting?" Amberspots protested.

Tigerpaw deflated, then her eyes sparked back up.

"Maybe I can ask my mentor if we can go hunt, too. Bye, Amberspots! Oh, and it smells really nice all of a sudden. Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Oh, they're back! Nevermind, then. Do you want me to bring you some food?"

"Sure. Then we can keep talking about Beaverpaw."

"Okay!" Tigerpaw exclaimed, and she ran away.

It made Amberspots purr.

"Can a cat change mentors?" she wondered aloud. "Maybe Crowface would be better for her. She's her aunt, but I'm sure that won't stop her from getting her to clean up the elders."

She purred at her own joke.

"I mean, not that it's such a big task -- will you two sit down?"

Coldyarrow didn't, because she didn't know where to sit.

"Where?" she let out.

"Uh. Here," Amberspots replied, and she pointed to the ground next to her with her tail.

"Okay!"

Coldyarrow sat down, happy but nervous. Amberspots swatted at her brother's paws. He wiggled away. He was busy staring at Graystar.

"Look at the kit!" Amberspots told Coldyarrow instead.

"The kit!" Coldyarrow echoed, and it made her purr, too.

Sleepykit was making various sleepy noises. The two mollies looked at her.

"It's ours now," Amberspots purred mischievously. "We'll rename her… Amberspot's kit… kit."

She earned a giggle. It struck Amberspots again that she was beautiful. She looked like a beech, white with hints of gold and little black stripes in the form of whiskers on her face.

Well, when she got poetic, she knew she was screwed. She used to compare Brownbelly's pelt to sun-warmed ground. She was definitely screwed, especially since she couldn't stop noticing all the little golden hairs in Coldyarrow's face and comparing them to honey.

Mouse-dung, she thought. Here we go again.

Notes:

It could be because Tigerstorm's having kits??

Chapter 39: Divided loyalties

Summary:

Last chapter before the epilogue!

There were a few cats Ravenwhisker loved more than anyone. His parents, his sister, his apprentices, and those who he had entertained forbidden thoughts of becoming mates with.

He felt some sort of peaceful, dreamlike love for those who had left him to join StarClan. He didn't mourn them all day and night. Seeing them in his dreams was pleasant, and although the feeling was bittersweet and stinged him at times, he still considered them good dreams.

His sister was probably the cat he loved the most. They had helped each other through apprenticeship -- or rather, she had helped him study herbs, and had decided that it was only fair to practice battle moves on him. He would run away and squirm and say "nooooooo", but she didn't care. He worried for her at times. She went to battle, unlike him, and unlike most of everyone, she fought like a crazed cat every single time. Hr would fret over her and bring her herbs, and it would be her turn to say "noooooo" and squirm and run away.

Then there was Sweetfrost. Now that was an odd kind of love. It was sweet, and soft, and barely there at times, but it was persistent. It was all in longing looks and soft touches, and because of the distance that separated them, it didn't amount to much, but it was there, and it was nice.

Ravenwhisker remembered hearing his name for the first time and being completely baffled at how great of a name it was; then baffled again when he saw what he looked like. Sweetfrost had always been a delicate-looking cat -- not in stature, because he was quite square and small, like a shrunken badger, but in gestures. He had never seen a cat walk like he didn't touch the ground, like a shadow cat that was barely even tangible. Whenever he was around, Ravenwhisker felt soft.

He never told anybody about it, but cats gossiped, even when there wasn't really anything to gossip about. He wondered if ShadowClan did the same thing to Sweetfrost.

So the next half-moon after his sister started to show good signs of recovery, he asked him. Well, not right away. First, he had to prepare the terrain.

"My sister's getting better," he started as they started to walk pelt to pelt up the slope that would carry them to the Moonstone.

"She is? That's great," Sweetfrost purred. "I always knew you could cure her. Always said it, too."

"I don't think it's because of me. Ever since we started her treatment, she kept saying it wasn't smoke-related. I mean, maybe I explained it badly, or maybe it really was mouse-brained, but suddenly, a few days ago, she started to purr and run around again."

"Maybe she was wrong," Sweetfrost tried.

"No, I don't think she was. I don't think it's smoke-related, either. There hasn't been any smoke at all in a very long time. No fire, no sparks, and no trips to the Thunderpath, either. I don't know where she would have inhaled it."

"She might not have told you, because she doesn't know herself."

"Well, maybe she's right, too. Maybe it's purely in her mind. Have you ever heard of cats being physically healthy but acting like they're sick? Graystar was like that. Coldstar, too," Ravenwhisker insisted. "Maybe there's no physical cause."

Sweetfrost scrunched up his whiskers in confusion.

"But Amberspots' case shows all the signs of smoke breathing: confusion, disorientation -- well, I suppose she doesn't have any breathing problems," Sweetfrost backtracked. "And you know how mothers feel sad after giving birth sometimes? You gave her poppy seeds, but it didn't do much, did it? So what could it be?"

Ravenwhisker shrugged.

"I can only hope that we'll know before her state gets back to what it was. Right now, I have no idea why she's so happy. I'm almost sure that it's only temporary. I hope it isn't, of course."

He sighed. Sweetfrost nudged him affectionately.

"Had any new kits lately?" he asked kindly.

"Eh. Well, Brownbelly's expecting again," he purred.

"Of course," Sweetfrost purred, amused.

"Yeah! And Tigerstorm, too."

Sweetfrost purred his congratulations, but Ravenwhisker seemed sad.

"Bluefeather -- well, don't tell anyone, but she left the Clan. Says she's tired of living in one, or something like that. She took off half a moon ago, and we haven't seen her since. I would say it's good that Tigerstorm's too busy with preparing for her litter to worry about her, but I'm sure she takes the time to fret anyway. Oh, and Tigerstorm's gotten huge. I think we can expect a big litter."

Sweetfrost took a second to un-widen his eyes.

"Those are some news," he reacted.

"Some news," Ravenwhisker let out sadly. "She could have waited for her sister to give birth. You know, to meet the kittens, and support her, and everything."

"I suppose she didn't want to risk changing her mind," his friend supplied.

Ravenwhisker was looking into Sweetfrost's pale eyes and telling himself that he was very kind and wonderful when he realized that this was his segue into the topic he had been meaning to approach.

"Do you still ask yourself about what it would be like to live in a different Clan sometimes?"

Now that he had asked, he was so nervous that he didn't even want to hear the answer. It used to be a stupid thought from their apprenticeship, but that had been so long ago that he was afraid of being laughed at.

"I wonder what it would be like to live in a different Clan sometimes, yes," Sweetfrost answered softly, unsure of whether he even wanted to admit it out loud. "I would have different Clanmates, different fresh-kill, different sights… but, well, I wonder if it wouldn't be worth it for some cats. A little bit like Graystar and his family. Graystar wanted change, and his family loved him so much that they were ready to change Clans to follow him. I can't imagine what it must be like to live in RiverClan when you don't like water."

He looked at his paws. Ravenwhisker wasn't sure why he looked sad, but he still nudged him affectionately.

"From what he would tell us, it wasn't too bad, but hunting was a pain, and he dreaded the day he would need to cross over the river to defend or retake the Sunningrocks."

"Have you found out who they belonged to in the beginning yet?" Sweetfrost asked, and Ravenwhisker purred.

"No, but even if we had, I doubt it would change anything. Cats would still quarrel."

"We don't have that sort of recurrent fights in ShadowClan, but we do have our inconveniences, too, like eating rats from the Carrionplace."

"I'm surprised you even know what Sunningrocks are, and just as surprised that I know what the Carrionplace is! We all live so close together, but we know so little of the other Clans' territories still. I suppose it's an advantage in battle, but not everything is about battle. How different would our life be if we could -- I don't know -- travel to each other's territories and live there for a while? As guests?"

"WindClan used to welcome strangers every -- when was it again? Every leaf-bare? They don't do it anymore, so I doubt it's a secret. I suppose every Clan has its special way of viewing the warrior code."

Ravenwhisker nodded, then closed the distance between their muzzles in confidence.

"I wouldn't be surprised if ThunderClan lifted the ban on medicine cats getting mates soon. I'm telling you, every single elder is teasing me about my love life, as nonexistent as it is."

He purred, and Sweetfrost joined in.

"Don't they all! My mother, StarClan bless her, used to complain about how I would never have kits, and she would try to convince me to be a warrior instead."

"It's sweet, in its own way," Ravenwhisker commented, and his friend nodded.

"It is, yes."

"Do you really think us medicine cats will be able to take mates soon?" Fernpaw asked, and she had been so quiet that Ravenwhisker had completely forgotten that she had been there the whole time.

He slowed down to catch up with her. She was too shy to join the other apprentices, but Ravenwhisker didn't mind.

"Well, maybe. It certainly seems like the direction the Clan is taking," Ravenwhisker guessed. "They're very open to the idea. I'm surprised. I have no idea where this looseness came from. Back in our day, it was much different, but then again, ThunderClan hasn't been in a lot of battles lately."

His eyes lit up with mischief.

"Maybe Amberspots scared everyone off."

"She was certainly a fearsome warrior in her time," Sweetfrost agreed. "Even now, I wouldn't want to fight her."

"Yeah, she's really strong," Ravenwhisker boasted happily. "I would have corrected you, but you corrected yourself. She's still pretty scary. Nobody can match her. Especially not our scrawny medicine cat butts."

"You're scrawnier than me!" Sweetfrost protested, and Ravenwhisker swatted at his ear.

"I'm not! I could squish you," Ravenwhisker purred. "I've gotten fat, but it's an advantage in battle."

"It's a good look on you," Sweetfrost admitted, and both toms started to look down at the ground in embarrassment. "I was wondering otherwise if the rumours were true that Amberspots --"

He became even more embarrassed. He felt hot under his fur, and he was glad that it wasn't visible on his face.

"Well, um, if she really is mates with your leader Coldstar."

"She is! She is," Ravenwhisker answered.

"We don't have problems with it in ThunderClan," Fernpaw supplied softly. "Well, I don't know if it was different back when you were young, of course, but it's like this now."

"Oh, it's never been like this in ShadowClan, or any Clan I know of," Sweetfrost laughed. "But I'll be honest and very boldly admit that ThunderClan seems like the nicest Clan to live in at the moment. No fights, no mating restrictions -- and medicine cats could possibly find love, too."

"It does sound nice," Ravenwhisker sighed, then he laughed. "But what am I saying? I already live there."

"Is it really forbidden in the other Clans?" Fernpaw asked worriedly.

Sweetfrost scrunched his face up comically.

"Well, no. Well, yes. No. Not really? It's not as forbidden as it's considered impossible. It just doesn't happen. Well, "doesn't happen". You know what I mean. Cats will call each other best friends or good friends while acting like lovers."

Ravenwhisker nodded with a soft, longing purr in his throat.

"I see. Again, I live in ThunderClan, so I have nothing to complain about. Well, actually, not really. I think my Clanmates' gossip is getting to my head. I'm still a medicine cat. In many ways, it's a shame."

"I suppose so," Sweetfrost sighed.

"Was it always like that? I know it wasn't. I suppose what I meant to ask was how it came to be so accepted in our Clan," Fernpaw inquired backwards.

"A few seasons ago, we had a number of strong figures in the Clan show interest or straight up become mates with a cat of the same gender. I don't think you were even born, or if you were, you were very small. It was around the time of Graystar's leadership. Did you even know him? He wasn't our leader for a long time. He was about my age, actually. Maybe a bit older. It's hard to tell, and it was so long ago. Tigerpaw had barely become an apprentice when he died, and Coldstar took right over. I think you were a kit."

"No, I was an apprentice, but I hadn't been one for long," Fernpaw reminded him.

"Right. A warrior apprentice. That mustn't have been very fun," Sweetfrost empathized.

"Grasspaw liked it enough for the two of us. Well, Grassfoot, of course."

“He’s a warrior already?”

“We're old enough," Fernpaw admitted sheepishly. "I purposefully failed my assessment a few times until Ravenwhisker realized I wasn’t fit to be a warrior. I could have just asked, but, well, I don’t know.”

“It’s alright like that,” her mentor purred, and he gave her a lick behind the ears.

She was still very small and very fuzzy like a kitten.

And speaking of kittens, on the next half-moon, the topic came up again.

"She's getting wider and wider," Ravenwhisker confessed with his eyes glittering. "I think it's safe to say that there are two of them in there."

Another half-moon came up, and Fernpaw started to look nervous.

"I don't know if I can do this. I've never helped a cat give birth before!" she fretted.

Ravenwhisker gave her a lick of encouragement.

"Don't worry. You'll do fine! I'll be right there every step of the way."

And the half-moon that came next, Ravenwhisker was alone when he approached Sweetfrost.

"Two healthy kittens!" he declared proudly. "Fernpaw stayed behind to help if anything goes wrong."

"Two kittens!" Sweetfrost purred. "Did Fernpaw do alright?"

"She ate a bad shrew the night before, and she was sick all evening. Honestly, it’s well enough like that. She’s a talented young cat, and there’ll be more births soon enough," Ravenwhisker answered cheerfully. "Between you and me, I've already chosen her medicine cat name. I think I'll retire after that. I love being a medicine cat, of course, but, well, Amberspots is an elder now, and, well, there are things I'd like to do before I join StarClan."

"Which isn't soon," Sweetfrost added with a frown.

"Of course not."

"If you're not a medicine cat, then that means you won't come here anymore," Sweetfrost realized sadly.

"I suppose not, but I'm sure we'll see a lot of each other anyway. I can always visit ShadowClan," Ravenwhisker said cheerfully, and he headbutted his friend. "Cheer up!"

Sweetfrost's whiskers kept drooping anyway.

"I'm older than you are by a few seasons," he admitted. "One of the only reasons I haven't retired yet is because I like our talks.”

Ravenwhisker almost fell over,

“My apprentice does most of the work at home, you know,” Sweetfrost went on.

"That's true!" yowled a young cat from far away in front of them, because they walked very slowly, regardless of how much falling over happened.

Sweetfrost purred.

"Is -- really?" Ravenwhisker blubbered.

"And, um. Visiting. It's not really allowed," Sweetfrost blubbered back. "But we've been friends for -- well, since we were both apprentices. So maybe we should just do it anyway."

His apprentice decided to stop listening, because poor Sweetfrost seemed embarrassed enough by his own words already to need any more help in that regard.

"Visit each other?" Ravenwhisker choked out.

"Just -- ughhhhh," the young cat grumbled, exasperated.

"ShadowClan's awfully far away, and there are the thunderpaths."

"You're not wrong. Walking so much hurts my knees," Sweetfrost admitted. "But it's about as far as the Moonstone."

"I would say, "move to ThunderClan!" if it weren't even further away," Ravenwhisker laughed, except he really had thought about asking him that.

Sweetfrost let out a purr, then pushed against his shoulder happily. They didn’t dare approach the topic of a move again until the next half-moon. Brownbelly’s kittens were doing well, and there was Tigerstorm, too, who was ridiculously fat for how early she was in her pregnancy. But then, much like the seasons, the dreaded conversation crept up on them. It was Sweetfrost who spoke the first.

"You know, the years haven't been kind to us. It seems to me sometimes that more years of Clan life means equally as much suffering. Perhaps the true answer to happiness lies outside the Clans. Have you thought about that?"

His sweet, pale eyes stared into Ravenwhisker's own, making him hot under the pelt.

"Well, young Bluefeather's left recently, as you know," he answered hesitantly, a little bit uneasy.

But Sweetfrost paused. Ravenwhisker stopped in his tracks, a little bit reluctant to continue whatever the conversation was turning out to be.

"Listen," he let out, and Ravenwhisker told himself that he loved his voice. "I'm only telling you this because you're my closest friend, and I trust you. I know it's wrong to leave the Clans, but that's it: why is it wrong? It's sad, sure, but wrong? I don't think so. We have so many rules here. Who to attack, who to help, who to mate."

He looked at Ravenwhisker, and a touch of pain entered his cool, soothing eyes. They were like a running river, the poor old medicine cat told himself.

"And when my apprentice is formed, I think I'll leave. Maybe I'll follow Bluefeather, and we'll be some sort of small Clan, or maybe I'll go off into the wilderness. Or I could even…"

His voice turned into a whisper.

"Yes, even go to the Twolegplace, and find my happiness there."

Ravenwhisker only stared, shocked at what he was hearing.

"You're leaving?" he squealed like a frightened kitten.

Without me? he wanted to add.

"But what about your Clan?"

"Ravenwhisker," Sweetfrost stopped him gently, and he touched his shoulder with the tip of his tail to walk again with him, except their bodies were pressed together now. "It's alright. I'm old, and I would only have a few years left to give my Clan anyway. Shouldn't I spend them to explore? And you -- what if you came with me?"

Ravenwhisker's eyes turned into orbs. Sweetfrost looked down.

"I know it's a hard decision," he let out in a whisper.

"But my sister needs me! And the Clan! They don't have a fully-formed medicine cat yet! And Bluefeather's only just left, I should have appointed her again -- oh, stars. Well -- well -- what would I do? And what would you do? Where would we go?"

"They don't need us, Ravenwhisker. There are many more medicine cats ready to help if need be. The only thing really stopping us from helping one another is ourselves, and this blasted code we bother ourselves with."

"Blasted?" Ravenwhisker chirped. "But -- I can't just go! There are preparations to be made, and cats to talk to, and Coldstar, Coldstar would be so upset, and Amberspots, obviously!"

Ravenwhisker took to staring at the ground, too.

"And Tigerstorm's going to have kittens," he murmured sadly. "I can't leave, Sweetfrost. The Clan is my home."

Sweetfrost took a moment to digest his words.

"I thought you would say yes," he let out. "All this time, I was certain you would say yes. But don't you want a mate? And your freedom? A more forgiving place to live in? Come on, Ravenwhisker. You can't stay."

Ravenwhisker didn't answer. Sweetfrost looked away.

"I was going to ask you to come to ThunderClan with me," Ravenwhisker let out chokedly. "I didn't think you wanted to leave altogether. Wouldn't it be enough to change Clans? To stay in ThunderClan with me?"

Sweetfrost looked back up at his friend, and his eyes held both comfort and sadness in them. He looked like he was about to something, but then, Fernpaw stopped in front of them, and they bumped into her.

"Oh! Sorry, Fernpaw. Are we there?" Ravenwhisker let out in an almost normal voice.

"We are!" Fernpaw nodded. "I'm glad we are. I need advice from StarClan."

"Me, too," Ravenwhisker sighed, then he whispered to Sweetfrost: "There's no StarClan out there."

But Sweetfrost's mew was resolute.

"Then there are other ancestors, and I'd like to meet them."

They all laid down to touch noses with the Moonstone. Sweetfrost and Ravenwhisker, after hesitating for a second, sat together, as they always did.

"Our ancestors used to be rogues, you know," Sweetfrost whispered.

"I know that! Now, hush. I'm concentrating."

Sweetfrost purred and snuggled close. Ravenwhisker didn't move, and so for a second, he worried that he had displeased his friend; but then, he caught a faint rumble, a quiet purr.

Ravenwhisker had a vision this time. He had one every few moons, usually from his mother, who watched over him and insisted on warning him of everything, and before that, from his father, who would appear, tall and grave and noble, and he never showed him anything. He just talked. One from his father before Graystar had joined ThunderClan: a new friend will come to you on the day StarClan dances. There had been shooting stars the night before he showed up. Then a warning of the plague that would kill so many: A medicine cat's den can never be too full. He had stocked and restocked that moon, earning amused meows from his Clanmates, but then their gratitude when they started to cough later on. Even if Twilightpaw had succumbed, he called his reaction a success. It would have been much worse, had he ignored the vision.

Then a few from his mother after she passed on. A rich, golden hive, dripping with honey; and it had collapsed to the ground. Ravenwhisker had woken up completely terrified. "Amberspots!" It could only be about her. Then another one not so long ago, as he asked himself which cat to make his apprentice between Bluefeather and Fernpaw. He had seen a green field with a feather and a fern, and a great storm had shaken them both. But once the storm subsided, the feather was flying far away, leaving only the fern in a splotch of sunshine.

This time, he saw the ThunderClan camp. He walked around for a while before something caught his attention. It was a big tree with four big branches that was absolutely not there normally. Ravenwhisker's whiskers twitched, and he approached the tree. "Four branches like the four Clans." And one of them was scorched, like it had been licked by flames, or perhaps lightning. "ThunderClan!" he told himself proudly. This branch seemed stronger and more intricate than the other branches.

He noticed a big acorn hanging from the ThunderClan branch. It waved importantly from side to side like the crown jewel that it was. Ravenwhisker followed its movements with his head, amused.

But then, the acorn fell. "No!" Right into the river. Ravenwhisker took off after it, but he couldn't catch it. He followed it, and followed it, and followed it, and followed it, until he caught up to it near a gorge. "Yes! Maybe I can save it."

Ravenwhisker plunged into the river, determined to save this little acorn that seemed to be the future of their Clan. Whatever it was, it was important, that much was obvious. He swam as fast as he could with the cold water jumping into his open jaws like it was purposefully trying to drown him. "Come on, just a little bit closer!"

He could see the acorn bobbing up and down into the river, just in front of him. But before he could catch it, he heard a purr. His father's purr! He stopped, and looked around.

"Are you stronger than the current, Ravenwhisker?" asked his father's voice.

"Where are you? Help me catch the acorn! It's important! Is ThunderClan in danger?" Ravenwhisker panicked, coughing up water and swallowing more with every panicked swat of his paws.

He was afraid of drowning. Visions of doom had a funny tendency to make you die in them.

"Can you fight off a river all on your own?" his father said gently, and he felt a muzzle against his fur, straightening him up, raising his head above the water.

"The acorn!" Ravenwhisker protested desperately.

He looked around for it, and saw that it was disappearing into the gorge, taken away by the waterfall.

"No!" he yowled.

He could have said that he hadn't been thinking, but he had. A thousand times over in the span of an instant. Ravenwhisker closed his jaws and jumped into the waterfall after it. As the roaring water engulfed him, he felt a roundness between his paws. "The acorn!" He curled up around it, determined to protect it from the cold darkness around them. The water pulled on his fur like the jaws of a thousand badgers.

Then he felt hardness under his paws, and something bonked him on the head. He opened his eyes, and found that he could see. He was on solid ground again. "The acorn!" Already nervous, he searched around for it. When he didn't find it, he almost yowled in despair, but as he raised his head, he saw a magnificent oak tree, carrying many acorns. He looked down, and saw that he was standing on one of its roots. The acorn had saved his life.

"Father? What does it mean?" Ravenwhisker asked timidly, but there was no answer, only a soft purr.

Then Ravenwhisker woke up, feeling refreshed but knowing he had a difficult talk to get through. "I can't leave ThunderClan. I need to protect it."

He waited for everyone else to wake up, wishing he could just get it over with. But he didn't have to wait long: already, everyone was twisting and yawning. He paid them a short glance, then turned back to Sweetfrost, his head full of questions. What did his vision mean? Was he supposed to follow those who left the Clans? The acorn came from the Clan-tree, but it fell from it, and grew far away on different soil. But it might have another meaning. Acorns were future trees. Future Clans? Was he supposed to help a new Clan develop?

But acorns were also, in some way, baby trees. Tree-kits. And there would be new kittens in ThunderClan soon. Was he supposed to save them? He wasn't sure anymore of what he was supposed to do.

Then he heard pawsteps at the entrance, and loud bonks followed by hisses of pain. It sounded like a tom. Hopefully, it wasn't a fight. Or a plague? Did someone die?

"RAVENWHISKER!" yelled the tom.

Ravenwhisker squinted. He recognized him.

"Beavertail?"

"Tigerstorm's given birth and I ran all the way here to tell you that it's way too soon and I'm scared," he let out, his voice progressively weaker, then he collapsed, completely out of breath.

"She what?" Ravenwhisker protested, his voice getting high-pitched. "It's too soon! I'll be right there. Fernpaw!"

"Me?" Fernpaw echoed, still sleepy.

"Tigerstrom's just given birth."

"You might need help," Sweetfrost said, and he jumped to his paws.

"Thanks. Let's go, then."

"I could stay here with Beavertail until he's better," Fernpaw suggested.

"Not a chance. This is your first birth. Come on," Ravenwhisker snapped. "Sorry."

He ran off the entrance, forcing his two friends to follow him.

"Bye?" came Beavertail's confused mew, and he appeared behind them. "I'm not missing my mate's first birth."

He breathed in hard and fell into pace with the rest of them. Together, they bounced down the slope like a bunch of frightened rabbits.

"Fine, but we're not stopping for you," Ravenwhisker warned.

"I'm not stopping, either," Beavertail replied between gritted teeth.

By the time they were back to the camp, everyone was out of breath. Fernpaw was the least, so she ran off to get the proper medicine.

"Does she have a stick to bite into?" she asked after she came back. "If not, get her one, please."

Ravenwhisker nodded to himself, pleased to see that she was efficient.

"Let's go. Sweetfrost, please stay outside," Ravenwhisker advised, and the two medicine cats disappeared into the nursery.

Beavertail hadn't even waited for them. He was already squished next to his mate with his head in her neck fur. Amberspots was there, too, and so was Mooneye.

"Everybody out, please," Ravenwhisker commanded. "Except Beavertail. Alright, what are we looking at?"

He poked at her belly. A tiny wet bundle shot out of Tigerstorm like it had been waiting for it. "StarClan, it's already started!"

"That's one," he nodded. "Beavertail, lick it."

Tigerstorm whined in disagreement, then in pain as her mate's warmth disappeared.

"Fernpaw, feel around the belly. There might be a lot of kittens in there, and that's why she's gotten so big, so fast. Okay? So press around, but gently."

Fernpaw gingerly put her paw on Tigerstorm's stomach.

"Feel around. Don't be afraid," Ravenwhisker soothed.

"Don't touch me," Tigerstorm hissed, spitting out the branch.

Ravenwhisker put it back into her mouth.

"Don't worry, Tigerstorm. We need to know how many kits you're going to have, okay? Now, did you have anything for the pain yet?"

"What does it look like?" Tigerstorm groaned, then she bit down again. "Am I supposed to feel sick?"

"Yes, yes, it's all normal, kitten. Now, Fernpaw?"

"Hurry up, please," Tigerstorm pleaded. "This really hurts."

Beavertail paused to headbutt her. As she swallowed whatever Fernpaw had given her, her breathing slowed down a little, and Beavertail's, too.

"Alright. Okay. Now, Fernpaw, press around her belly. We need to do this," Ravenwhisker added before the young queen could argue. "If the kits are in the wrong position, we'll turn them around. Okay?"

"Is it going to hurt?" Tigerstorm whined.

"Most of this is going to hurt, yes. But it's for the kittens, and for you, too, so it's over sooner. Okay?"

Fernpaw breathed in and put her paw back on Tigerstorm.

"Ready?" she asked softly.

"Just hurry up. I don't care what you do," Tigerstorm muttered.

And so Fernpaw felt around her belly.

"I think -- Ravenwhisker, I think there might be four. I feel hardness, then nothing, then hardness again, then nothing, then another hardness. Is it just a bone?" Fernpaw inquired.

"Four?" Tigerstorm squeaked. "Beavertail -- four!"

"Four!" Beavertail echoed. "Wait -- five! With this one!"

"StarClan, have mercy on us," Ravenwhisker muttered. "Okay, Tigerstorm. Here's what we'll do. A big litter is an unlucky litter. We need this birth to go fast so we can make sure they're all healthy. Okay? So I'm going to need you to push. A lot. Until they're all out. Okay? Fernpaw will help by pushing down on your belly. It's going to hurt, so we'll take a few seconds between each push. Tell us when you're ready."

"Right now," Tigerstorm whined. "Makes it go by faster."

"Alright. Push now," Ravenwhisker let out, and his voice was calm, even when Tigerstorm hissed in pain and bit down hard on her stick. "Keep pushing. You too, Fernpaw. Okay. I see him. He's backwards, but that's alright. Tigerstorm? Stop pushing."

Tigerstorm whined.

"But I need to!"

"Bite down instead. He's going the wrong way. StarClan knows there isn't enough space for all of them in there, and he took the first opening. Fernpaw? We'll turn him around. I'll have to push there, if you don't mind," he added, and he pressed down on the tiny bundle to put it back in the belly.

Tigerstorm whined. Beavertail stuck his nose to her fur again.

"Okay, Fernpaw. Use your paws to twist him around."

Fernpaw became confused, to her great shame, but Ravenwhisker stayed calm.

"Hurry up!" Tigerstorm hissed.

"It's okay, Tigerstorm. Fernpaw, this is how we do it. Watch me do it. You'll do the next one. Okay?"

He pressed down with his paws until the bundle was vertical instead of horizontal.

"Push now -- alright, good," he purred, because the queen hadn't waited for his instruction.

"He's stuck," Tigerstorm panicked.

"He's not stuck. He's just big. You keep pushing, okay?"

"How many more do I need to push out?"

Ravenwhisker grimaced.

"One at a time. Keep pushing. You're doing great."

She gritted her teeth, and pushed. With a choked yowl on her part, the bundle fell on the nest. Beavertail went to lick it.

"Beavertail, when you're done licking a kit, put it on her belly so it can nestle," Ravenwhisker remembered.

"Shouldn't we look to see if they're toms or mollies? And the cord?" Fernpaw whispered.

"Yes, the cord. You do it."

"Okay."

Fernpaw padded over to the queen's flank, and bit off the little cords. The big one was dark grey with black stripes. It was wiggling softly. The tiny one was meowing silently. That meant it was breathing, which was good.

"The big one's a tom," she said.

"Don't mind that just now. Come back. Angle them."

"Alright."

They switched places.

"You're doing good," Fernpaw promised.

"Stop telling me I'm doing good, I'm in pain," Tigerstorm protested chokedly, and she gave another groan. "I'm pushing now."

Fernpaw looked to Ravenwhisker, but he only stared back, so she took it upon herself to angle the next bundle correctly.

"Go on. Push," she ordered gently.

Another bundle came out. Ravenwhisker cut off the cord, and gave it to Beavertail.

"That was an easy one. Two more. Only two more. You can do it," Ravenwhisker praised.

"Shut up," Tigerstorm muttered, but there was a tiny purr to her voice.

She pushed hard.

"Hold on, please," Fernpaw protested. "It'll be easier if I angle it first."

Tigerstorm gritted her teeth and stopped pushing.

"Okay, then."

Fernpaw messed around with her belly.

"Go on, now."

This one was gigantic, or so it felt to Tigerstorm. It took a while for it to get out, and when it did, she heaved a relieved sigh. She couldn't breathe for long, though, because the next one was coming out.

"Okay, Tigerstorm. Next one," Fernpaw encouraged.

The young queen gave another pained yowl, and pushed as much as she could. Eventually, the last bundle fell onto the nest, and she closed her eyes, exhausted.

"Is that all?" she whispered. "Are they alright?"

Beavertail finished putting the kittens on her belly.

"Five kittens, healthy and breathing," he announced proudly. "You did amazing."

He licked her ears frantically.

"Are you okay?"

Tigerstorm hummed.

"She must be exhausted," Ravenwhisker answered for her. "Five kittens! That's amazing. Alright. I'll stay for a little while to make sure they're all okay."

"But you said they were fine," Tigerstorm protested sleepily.

"He's not a medicine cat," Ravenwhisker purred. "Fernpaw will give you something for your milk to come out faster, then we'll see if there aren't any other nursing queens who wouldn't mind sharing with you."

The kittens were already hungrily nursing against her. Tigerstorm tried to lick them, but she was too tired.

"M'kittens. Love you."

"Is she dying?" Beavertail panicked.

"No," Ravenwhisker shot down. "Now get out of here. Everyone, out. You, too, Fernpaw. Good job tonight."

Fernpaw nodded, beaming, and padded off, probably to ramble about it to Mooneye. Ravenwhisker settled next to the kittens to examine them.

"Two big ones, and three tiny ones," he commented to himself. "Alright, then, youngsters. Let an old cat look at you."

He squinted at the tiny little things. Already, one of them didn't have all its paw pads. One of them had two tails instead of one, split up at the end like a branch. Ravenwhisker almost fainted when he mistook a drop of milk for a third eye.

"Alright, then. Well, as long as they're alive," he purred.

He kept looking at the kittens, and twisting them around to see them better. No-pads there had one paw missing. She was dark brown or black, he couldn't tell, and she was one of the smaller kittens. But her little paws were white.

"Fantastic," he told himself. "I can't believe Tigerstorm was so forgetful that she didn't give you all your paws."

Nobody heard his joke, but he still purred.

Little Two-tails, bless her soul, had nothing else to mention. She was big, and fat, with a brown pelt splotched with a darker shade like stormclouds.

"Perfect. Very good. You ate everyone's food in there, didn't you?"

Then he moved on to the gray tabby. There wasn't much to mention about him, except he was massive. His tail was lightly split, but it was hard to notice.

Then there was the firstborn kit, the one who silently screamed at everyone to shut up and let her be born in peace. From what he could see, her eyes were very small, and she only had a nub for a tail. Her face looked puffy, and her cheeks were round. The rest of her was small and round, even her ears.

"I think your brother ate your tail," Ravenwhisker joked. "But not your face. That's good, that's good. Alright, then. Who's the last one?"

It was another one of the smaller kits, a brown tom with a white throat. For a second, he thought that this one was normal, but then, he noticed that there was fuzz instead of eyes.

"Well, your brother ate your eyes," he purred. "That's alright. You can always be a medicine cat. Plenty of blind medicine cats, there are."

He sat down and eyed the kittens seriously.

"Now, let me warn you. Cats might be scared of what you look like at first, but it's alright. They'll love you anyway, even if they're scared."

No-eyes silently meowed at him. He purred.

"Alright, then. Time to let your father in."

Beavertail entered the nursery, paused, shook his head, and looked again.

"Are those our kits?" he asked.

"They are. Three mollies and two toms."

Beavertail bent down to sniff them.

"Well, I mean, they're alive, and Tigerstorm is alive, so who cares, really. But… is -- are they all like this?"

"They are," Ravenwhisker nodded.

"All of them?" Beavertail insisted.

"Yes."

Beavertail sighed.

"Well… at least, they're alive."

"They're your kits," Ravenwhisker reminded him sternly.

"I know, I know. I'm just… I mean… this is odd. I've never seen kits like these, or any cat, for that matter."

Two-tails opened her mouth and wiggled her tiny paws. Beavertail let out a purr.

"Okay, whatever. They're still cute. I'm very glad you came to help us. And now, we have kits," he let out chokedly.

He looked back at the five kittens.

"How did this get here?" Beavertail let out, and he took something from one of the kittens.

"What?"

"An acorn."

"A --"

Ravenwhisker's head snapped back to the new father. Yes, there was an acorn right there. It wasn't even in season.

"Which kitten was holding it?" he asked urgently.

"I don't know. This one, maybe? It was just rolling around."

He pointed to Small-ears. Ravenwhisker looked at her almost accusingly, then turned his attention back to the new father.

"Or this one?"

He pointed to No-eyes. Ravenwhisker gave up on glaring.

Eventually, he left the nursery, only to find what could only be the entire Clan chattering excitedly outside.

"Well? What are their names? How many?" Amberspots asked.

"Why is everyone awake?" Mooneye rasped from the Highrock.

"You're one to talk," Crowface protested.

"I'm the deputy. Everyone, go back to your dens. You'll have plenty of time to see the kits tomorrow morning. Come on!"

Slowly, the crowd disappeared. Even Amberspots went back to her den. Fernpaw was exhausted, and she mumbled her goodbyes before crashing into her nest. Before long, only Sweetfrost remained outside with Ravenwhisker.

"Well, it looks like you didn't need my help, after all," he let out with a purr.

Ravenwhisker shook his head. He tried to say something, but his words stayed stuck in his throat. He bowed his head and waited for his friend to speak first.

"So… that was Fernpaw's first birth," Sweetfrost eventually let out.

"Yeah. She even remembered things I'd forgotten."

The silence came back.

"I don't like Clan life. I never have. There's always been things about it that didn't make sense to me. Rules I don't find necessary. Fights, unnecessary ones. Things like that. But I don't know if I could leave. ShadowClan's been my home ever since -- well, forever. I've always lived here. And even if everything's a little odd, and it's not my favorite place in the world… how could I leave it?"

He sat down, defeated. Ravenwhisker sighed and sat with him.

"Why do we hate housecats? Why are we four Clans and not one? Why do leaders have nine lives, and not sick kittens, or something? Why can't there be more than two medicine cats in one Clan, and why, why, why can't we have mates? It doesn't make sense, Ravenwhisker. If I were in charge of a Clan, I would change so many things. And… it's why I'm leaving. There are cats out there. Cats that could form a Clan. And StarClan aren't the only ancestors, nor is the Moonstone the only place to contact them. There are others, and I intend to find them."

"What? You want to build your own Clan?" Ravenwhisker exclaimed, stupefied. "Sweetfrost… this is a terrible time to discuss it. There are four odd kittens in there that need constant supervision. And besides, wasn't that something you only said when we were apprentices? When did you start thinking about it seriously?"

Sweetfrost shrugged.

"Well, to be honest, I had a dream. A dream about a place where stars dance. And I intend to find it, and to make my Clan there. It'll be a good Clan, Ravenwhisker. We could… we could go look for that place together," he insisted, his eyes full of grief.

Ravenwhisker stared back into his sweet, pale eyes.

"I can't. I had a dream. I need to stay here, or ThunderClan will shatter."

Sweetfrost bowed his head.

"Then… then when I go, forget about me. Find someone else. I'll be bold now, and say that I think maybe you and I get on well. But when I go, I can't ask you to wait for me. Who knows how long it'll be before you hear from me again? No, I can't ask you that."

"I won't forget about you. I don't know how I could possibly forget you. You -- you've always been --"

He shook his head.

"Mouse-brained, in a good way. Always on about helping more cats than you were allowed to. Always willing to cross borders -- so much that everyone stopped yelling at you for it. I remember when you visited sick kittypets at night."

Sweetfrost looked down, feeling hot under his pelt, but he was purring.

"Now, everyone said and thought that you would settle down when you got older, but I can see they were wrong. And I've kept your secrets so far, as annoying as they may be --"

Sweetfrost purred.

"But, well, I -- my sister's here. There are malformed kits here. They need me. And ThunderClan needs them. Listen, maybe one day, I'll try to find that ridiculous place. But not now. I wish you wouldn't go, but I'm terrible at convincing you of anything, so I'll just say, well, I hope you won't forget me, either."

"I won't if you won't," Sweetfrost answered teasingly.

"I won't."

"Then I won't."

"That's a confusing few sentences there."

Ravenwhisker turned his head back to the nursery, already anticipating what everyone would have to say about them. But when he turned back, Sweetfrost was gone. Ravenwhisker repressed a wail of grief, but only because he had found a tuft of his fur before he could open his jaws. It was right there in the snow like it wanted to be found. Ravenwhisker imagined Sweetfrost ripping off a bit of his own fur to give him a keepsake, and his heart was warmed. "Travel well, my friend. May StarClan reunite us someday."

Chapter 40: Epilogue

Summary:

Epilogue! (yes, I got emotional writing it)

"Amberspots? Amberspots?"

Amberspots blinked sleepily.

"What --" she tried, but a tiny thing was placed in front of her muzzle. "What?"

She felt more things against her.

"What? Are you burying me?" she purred, and she opened her eyes.

Tigerstorm was shoving kittens in her face.

"What? What?" she muttered.

"IT DOESN'T HAVE EYES," Tigerstorm whisper-shouted, on the verge of panic. "AND THIS ONE HAS TWO TAILS. AND THIS ONE'S MISSING A PAW."

"What? What? Let me see," Amberspots mumbled, and she stretched. "Didn't you just give birth last night?"

"I didn't see them! Look at them! What's wrong with them? Why are they like this? The whole Clan will hate them, and -- and they won't have any friends, and -- and what if they die?"

"Slow down," Amberspots yawned. "Let me see."

She felt a tiny paw against her muzzle. Little-eyes was pawing at her.

"Well, hello, there," Amberspots purred, and she gave the kitten a lick.

The kitten fell backwards with a chirp and kept wiggling. Amberspots purred some more and looked at the other ones. There were two fat ones, and two normal-sized ones. Amberspots nodded.

"Well, you had five! Congratulations!"

"Are you -- they're -- it doesn't have eyes!" Tigerstorm hissed, and she pushed one of them towards her.

"Mew," chirped the brown-and-white kitten.

"Fine, yes, so what? It's breathing and eating."

"What if it stops? What if -- I -- I don't --"

Tigerstorm slumped down to the ground in defeat. The little ones wiggled towards her like hungry worms.

"Have you never met any strange cats before?" Amberspots asked compassionately.

Tigerstorm took a second to lick off the moss that had gotten stuck to the tabby's fur.

"Not really. I heard about Yellowstar. And there's you. With your head and everything. And Mooneye has eyes of a different color. But that? I've never heard of that. Cats with split tails? Cats born without eyes? No, that -- I suppose there are blind cats, and deaf cats. But…"

She kept licking the tabby.

"I love them, there's no doubt about that. But me and Beavertail, we're concerned. I think it shocked him the most at first, and I can't blame him. Yesterday night was stressful, and he must have panicked the entire time. But… I suppose they're… they're alright. I'm just glad that they have nice pelt colours. Hopefully, their eyes match. Could you imagine having a ginger pelt and green eyes? That wouldn't look great."

Amberspots purred.

"Between you and me, I think Beavertail's a little disappointed that there isn't even one of them that's, well, shapen properly," Tigerstorm confessed quietly. "I don't know if I care about that myself. But I can tell you that I wasn't expecting any of them to be this way."

"Mew," said a kitten.

Tigerstorm rested her head on its little body, then started to purr. Her eyes turned loving.

"Who am I kidding? I love them more than anyone in the whole forest."

"Speaking of Beavertail, where is he?" Amberspots asked, and she looked around the clearing.

"Getting us something to eat. I wanted you to meet them before the rest of the Clan," Tigerstorm purred. "We haven't even thought of names."

Amberspots purred.

"Squishykit. Fatkit. Fatkit Two. Fur-for-eyes. No-paw."

"Oh, no," Tigerstorm protested. "They've only just been born. We can't tease them yet. Or at all. StarClan knows the Clan will be hard on them."

Amberspots nodded, and heaved a sigh.

"What is it?" Tigerstorm fussed.

"Just thinking. The last few moons have been hard. If this were a legend, I wouldn't know what the lesson would be. Cats close to me died. I fell in love, and it didn't work out, until it did, but with someone else. I gained a position in the Clan that I lost afterwards. I worked harder than any other cat, until it burned me out, and I became an elder. Cats joined the Clan, and cats left it. And now, new cats are born, and I know they'll be close to me, too. So what's the word to the wise? What's the lesson to learn? All of this nonsense clouded my brain. That's no lesson."

"But it's better now," Tigerstorm pointed out.

"Of course. Maybe it'll turn into a story for your kits. Life in a Clan is unpredictable. Good things can happen, and bad things, too. But you can still grow to be as old as I am."

"Well, if I had to tell them your story -- the story of the great Amberspots, of course," Tigerstorm purred. "I would say that peace is better than action. Your life's been too busy. You fought a lot, lost a lot, loved a lot. But since you became an elder, all you've done is reminisce. And, well, isn't it nice to just stop doing anything? See, well, all of those problems you talked about, they're in the past. All you do these days, other than being upset about them -- and StarClan knows you can't be blamed for that --, well, it's talking about the past, and rekindling friendships, and all of that. You know?"

Amberspots hummed.

"Hm. You might be onto something. I would say that my story is that of a sick elder trying to get better."

"And did you?"

"I suppose so."

Tigerstorm kept chattering about her birth, and Beavertail's face, and this and that. Amberspots drifted off. She looked at the sky, and remembered what had happened to her since she had become an elder. Hadn't she stood in front of this very cat the day she became a warrior, incapable of focusing on the event, too caught up in her own sadness to feel time moving around her? Hadn't she gone days barely eating, barely drinking, unable to stay awake for too long? Hadn't she refused to talk to her friends, even Coldstar, because she was too sad for their presence to soothe her, and she felt like any conversation would be joyless?

She had gone through all of that every day and every night, even before she became an elder, and somehow, it wasn't like that anymore. She knew the latest gossip, and who was having who's kits. She followed the hunting patrols, and knew who had brought what, and noticed if the fresh-kill pile was low. When she saw Coldstar, she wanted to snuggle up to her side, and tell her she loved her, and make ridiculous plans to steal kittens so they could raise some, too. And she even listened to the stories the other elders told the young ones when they removed their ticks.

"Yeah, I guess there's a lesson," Amberspots mewed, and Tigerstorm stopped mid-sentence.

Amberspots purred as she looked at her little kit, already a mother, even if her eyes were still bright and full of excitement; at her brother, who was looking longingly towards the edge of the forest; and at her mate, who signaled to her with her fluffy white tail, her round eyes glinting with happiness and love.

"What's the lesson, then?"

"It gets better."

Notes:

CE N'EEEEEST QU'UN AU REVOIIIIIIIIR

CE N'EEEEEST QU'UN AUUUU REEEVOOIIIIIR

OUI, NOUUUUUS NOUS REVERROOOOOONNS

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Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of River of Time