Chapter 1: Allegiances
Chapter Text
ShadowClan:
Leader: Brokenstar- Large, long haired dark brown tabby tom with a broad face and yellow eyes.
Deputy: Blackfoot- Huge white tom with jet black feet with an extra toe. (Brother to Flintfang and Fernshade)
Apprentice, Poppypaw
Medicine Cat: Yellowfang- Dark gray molly with long fur and a scarred pelt. Has a broad, flat face with yellow eyes. (Sister to Rowanberry and Marigoldpaw)
Warriors:
Rowanberry- Dappled cream and brown molly with amber eyes. (Mother to Poppypaw and Lilypaw)
Blizzardwing- Large mottled white tom with blue eyes.
Apprentice, Harepaw
Wolfstep- Gray tabby tom with amber eyes and a torn ear.
Clawface- Brown tabby tom with a scarred face. (Father to Poppypaw and Lilypaw)
Stumpytail- Dark brown tabby tom with green eyes and a short, stumpy tail.
Apprentice, Lilypaw
Cinderfur- Thin gray tom with amber eyes.
Nightpelt- Skinny black tom with green eyes.
Apprentice, Ravenpaw
Russetfur- Dark ginger tabby molly with green eyes.
Apprentice, Ashpaw
Boulder- Large, silver tabby tom with blue eyes.
Apprentice, Marigoldpaw
Tangleburr- Tortoiseshell molly with yellow eyes. (Sister to Deerfoot)
Apprentice, Dustpaw
Flintfang- Dark grey tom with warm amber eyes. (Brother to Blackfoot and Fernshade)
Apprentice, Badgerpaw
*Deerfoot- Long legged, brown tom with amber eyes. (Brother to Tangleburr)
*Darkflower- Long haired black molly with amber eyes. Originally from RiverClan. (Mother to Badgerpaw, Firekit, Wildkit, Leafkit, and Mistkit)
Tinyscar- Very small black tom with one white paw and ice blue eyes. Has a long scar running down one flank.
Dawncloud- Small golden tabby molly with green eyes and a horribly scarred pelt.
Apprentices:
Badgerpaw- Large black, gray and white tom whose pelt somewhat resembles a badger.
Poppypaw- Tortoiseshell molly with amber eyes.
Lilypaw- Brown and cream molly with green eyes.
Dustpaw- Gray-brown tabby tom with amber eyes. (Brother to Ravenpaw)
Ravenpaw- Skinny black tom with wide green eyes. (Brother to Dustpaw)
Harepaw- Long legged brown and white tabby tom. (Brother to Ashpaw)
Ashpaw- Long legged gray tabby molly with blue eyes. (Sister to Harepaw)
Marigoldpaw- Pale tortoiseshell molly.
Nursery:
Fernshade- Dark tortoiseshell molly with green eyes. (Mother to Badgerpaw, Firekit, Wildkit, Leafkit, and Mistkit).
Firekit- Bright ginger tom with green eyes.
Wildkit- Brown tabby tom with yellow eyes.
Leafkit- Brown and cream tabby molly with green eyes.
Mistkit- Gray and white molly with blue eyes.
Newtspeck- Black and ginger tabby molly with amber eyes.
Littlekit- Small brown and white tabby tom with blue eyes.
Wetkit- Gray tabby molly with blue eyes.
Brownkit- Brown and white tom with amber eyes.
Elders:
Ashfur- Thin gray tom with amber eyes (Father to Applefur, currently in WindClan).
Featherstorm- Dark brown tabby molly with long fur and blue eyes. (Mother to Dawncloud)
Brightflower- Long haired ginger tabby molly with a flat face and amber eyes. (Mother to Yellowfang, Rowanberry, and Marigoldpaw)
ThunderClan:
Leader: Bluestar- Blue-gray molly with a silver muzzle and blue eyes, and a long scar down her back.
Deputy: *Redtail- Small tortoiseshell tom with a fluffy ginger tail. (Father to Sandkit)
Medicine Cat: Spottedleaf- Beautiful tortoiseshell and white molly with amber eyes (Sister to Redtail)
Warriors:
Patchpelt- Black and white tom with yellow eyes. (Father to Graykit)
Rosetail- Gray tabby molly with a fluffy ginger tail (Mother to Redtail and Spottedleaf).
Lionheart- Huge golden tabby tom with long, thick fur. (Brother to Goldenflower)
Tigerclaw- Broad shouldered dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes and unusually long claws. (Father to Swiftkit)
Whitestorm- Tall white tom with yellow eyes.
Mousefur- Small, dusky brown molly with amber eyes.
Runningwind- Thin brown tabby tom with long legs. Originally from WindClan. (Father to Sandkit)
Darkstripe- Long haired dark gray tabby tom with yellow eyes.
Apprentice, Longpaw
Willowpelt- Silver-gray tabby molly with blue eyes.
Brindleface- Gray molly with marbled tabby markings and green eyes.
Apprentices:
Longpaw- Pale tabby tom with a long tail.
Nursery:
Dappletail- Elderly dappled tortoiseshell and white molly with broad shoulders. Has watched over the nursery for many moons.
Goldenflower- Pale golden tabby molly with green eyes. (Sister to Lionheart)
Swiftkit- Black and white tom with amber eyes.
Frostfur- Pretty white molly with blue eyes
Sandkit- Long legged, pale ginger tabby molly with green eyes. (Daughter to Redtail and Runningwind)
Graykit- Large, fluffy gray tom with yellow eyes. (Son to Patchpelt)
Elders:
White-Eye- Elderly pale gray molly with a clouded eye.
Halftail- Big dark brown tabby tom missing part of his tail.
Smallear- Gray tom with small, folded ears.
Speckletail- Pale speckled tabby molly with yellow eyes. (Mother to Longpaw)
Robinwing- Very old dusty brown molly with a ginger patch on her chest. Retired after losing her last litter to foxes.
WindClan:
Leader: Tallstar- Long legged black and white tom with a very long tail.
Deputy: Deadfoot- Black tom with a twisted hind leg. (Father to Bristlepelt)
Medicine Cat: Barkface- Dark brown tom with a short tail and amber eyes.
Warriors:
*Rushtail- Light creamy brown tom with dark paws.
Doespring- Light brown and white molly with yellow eyes. (Mother to Stonepaw and Thrushpaw)
Stagleap- Stocky dark brown tom with amber eyes.
Pigeonwing- Dark gray tom with white patches. (Father to Nightkit and Webkit)
Apprentice, Morningpaw
Wrenflight- Brown tabby molly. (Mother to Morningpaw).
Bristlepelt- Black tom with spikey fur.
Apprentice, Thrushpaw
Mudclaw- Wiry, mottled dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes. (Brother to Tornear)
Apprentice, Stonepaw
*Tornear- Wiry gray tabby tabby tom with yellow eyes. (Brother to Mudclaw, father to Nightkit and Webkit)
Runningbrook- Gray tabby molly with blue eyes.
Apprentices:
Thrushpaw- Brown and white molly with darker speckles.
Stonepaw- Long legged gray tom.
Morningpaw- Pale ginger tabby molly with a cream-colored underbelly.
Queens:
Rabbitfoot- Pale brown molly with a fluffy white underbelly and yellow eyes.
Whitekit- Small white molly with a long, fluffy tail.
Applefur- Black and gray ShadowClan molly with amber eyes. Currently staying with WindClan as a surrogate to Tornear and Pigeonwing’s kits.
Nightkit- Long legged black molly with amber eyes.
Webkit- Wiry dark gray tabby tom.
Elders:
Plumclaw- Small dark gray molly with blue eyes.
Dawnstripe- Ginger and cream molly with green eyes.
A/N: Nightkit and Webkit are biologically related to Applefur and Pigeonwing.
RiverClan:
Leader: Crookedstar- Huge light brown and white tabby tom with a twisted jaw. (Brother to Oakheart, father to Silverpaw)
Deputy: Oakheart- Dark ginger tom with green eyes. (Brother to Crookedstar, father to Mosstail, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur).
Medicine Cats: Mudfur- Lean brown tom with a pale belly and golden eyes. (Father to Leopardfur).
*Mosstail- Dappled, dark gray and white cat with green eyes.
Warriors:
Beetlenose- Broad shouldered black tom. (Father to Vixenpaw and Grasspaw)
Frogleap- Gray tom with a striped tail.
Graypool- Dark gray molly with yellow eyes. (Adoptive mother to Mosstail, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur)
Loudbelly- Dark brown tabby tom.
Sedgecreek- Long haired brown tabby molly with green eyes.
Apprentice, Vixenpaw
Blackclaw- Large, muscular black tom. (Brother to Darkflower of ShadowClan).
Leopardfur- Golden molly with unusual spotted markings.
Apprentice, Silverpaw
Stonefur- Pale blue-gray tom with broad shoulders and blue eyes.
Apprentice, Grasspaw
Whiteclaw- Long haired black tom with white paws.
Apprentices:
Silverpaw- Slender silver tabby molly with blue eyes.
*Grasspaw- Brown tabby molly with green eyes.
Vixenpaw- Pretty black molly with amber eyes.
Queens:
Mistyfoot- Dark blue-gray molly with long fur and blue eyes.
Mallowtail- Tortoiseshell molly with green eyes.
Shadekit- Very dark gray molly with amber eyes.
Heavykit- Big, thickset brown tabby tom with yellow eyes.
Elders:
Softwing- Small, fluffy white molly with brown tabby patches.
Rippleclaw- Sleek, black and silver tabby tom. Once regarded as the strongest warrior in all the Clans.
Cats Outside Clans:
Barley- Black and white tom that lives on a farm.
Smudge- Plump black and white kitten that lives in a house at the edge of the forest.
Chapter Text
It was all Yellowfang could do to keep her eyes trained on the pile of herbs at her feet as Brokenstar approached, the telltale drag of a heavy pelt against the ground accompanying his pawsteps. She did not want to look up and see what had become of his latest victim. She flinched as the body of the apprentice—a kit, really—hit the ground at her feet with a dull thud. She rose her eyes to meet Brokenstar’s gaze, giving him a long, hard stare. She did not say anything, and neither did he. There was nothing to say. This same scene had played out countless times in the moons since Brokenstar had ascended to leadership. She had long since given up hope of convincing him to stop, and he had long since run out of “training accidents” to explain away these untimely deaths. No doubt he knew that the kit at her feet was dead, as she did, but he was too clever to let the Clan think he wasn’t at least trying to keep the kits he killed alive.
She let out a long breath she had not realized she had been holding as Brokenstar’s pawsteps finally retreated, leaving her alone with the tiny, broken body. She forced herself to look down at the kit, to see who it was this time. A few golden tabby patches shone through the blood-soaked fur. She flinched again. Lightpaw. She doubted that was his real name, of course, but that was the only name she’d ever known him by. It was the name Brokenstar had given him after stealing him away from some poor rogue queen’s belly. He’d been apprenticed two moons after, at four moons old. He had been lucky that Brokenstar had waited so long to apprentice him, not yet satisfied with the little tom’s size at three moons. She had held out some hope that the extra moon of growing would save this kit from the gory fate so many others had met at Brokenstar’s claws, but that hope had been in vain. In the end, he’d died all the same. He was so full of energy, too… He hadn’t been Clanborn, but he’d been so eager to prove himself, so eager to be a part of the Clan that had stolen him from his mother before he was old enough to understand what had happened to him. All of that spark, all of that potential, wasted. And for what? This cruel method of training wasn’t yielding a greater number of strong warriors. It was hardly yielding any warriors at all. Since Brokenstar’s cruel training regimen had been instated, only one kit had survived long enough to become a warrior, and she was covered in scars from her abuse. Yellowfang had barely been able to save her; she’d stayed awake three nights with her tiny patient, doing everything in her power to keep the little molly alive. And for once, she had succeeded. Indeed, her success in saving Dawncloud was perhaps the only thing keeping her from abandoning ShadowClan for good. Had Yellowfang not been there, the molly would surely have died, and the possibility of another such case arising kept her from leaving.
She gave her pelt a shake, pushing aside the pile of herbs she’d been counting before. She snorted. It was ironic, really, that with the most brutal leader ShadowClan had ever seen, they had a surplus of marigold. Only because every patient he brings to me is dead by the time they arrive. Yellowfang got to work cleaning the little tom’s blood-stiff pelt with wet moss, the motions far too familiar at this point. Tease out the clumped fur by soaking it first, then gently tugging with a claw. You’ll tear it out otherwise. Wipe away from the body to avoid spreading the blood around. Close the eyes and push the tongue down the throat so it doesn’t loll out when they move him. Fill the wounds with flowers and seeds so that his body may nourish the forest once all is said and done.
She finished preparing the body with practiced ease, gently tugging him by the scruff to the enterance of her den. Her part here was done for now, his mentor would come to pick him up before long, to lay him out for a short service before his burial. How had they strayed so far from StarClan that they did not even sit vigil by the fallen anymore? How had they come to have such little respect for life? She knew how. It was her fault, for bringing that monster into this world. This was StarClan’s punishment on the whole of ShadowClan for her youthful mistake. How many cats would have to die before it was finally over? Would there even be a ShadowClan at the end of this mess? She did not have the answers, nor did she seek them. Perhaps she was a coward, but she could not bear to face StarClan, to see the faces of all the cats that had died for her transgression. Half of them aren’t even Clanborn. They had no part in this, and yet they’ve suffered all the same. If it weren’t for me, they’d be alive and happy.
Yellowfang heaved another sigh, looking up through the whole in the roof of her den at the stars shining coldly above. If you can hear me, I’m sorry. I know it isn’t enough, but I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to bring this to an end. The stars did not answer. I should have known StarClan would refuse to speak to me. It isn’t even halfmoon, and I’m the last cat they’d want to share with right now. But as she began to turn away, she caught sight of a shooting star in the corner of her eye. For a moment the dark den seemed to glow with firelight, before fading back into black. It was so brief that she wondered if it had happened at all. But if she strained her ears, Yellowfang could hear the softest of whisper reach her: “Fire shines brightest in the darkest nights.” Yellowfang exhaled deeply, ducking out of her den to gaze up at the night sky. For the first time in many, many moons, she allowed the tiniest bit of hope to take root in her heart. StarClan had spoken. They had spoken to her, even after all that she’d done. Perhaps not all hope was lost for ShadowClan. Their message was vaguer than most, but Yellowfang was a practiced medicine cat who had seasons of experience on her side. To her, the meaning was clear enough. Somehow, in some way, fire would lead ShadowClan out of its darkest hour…
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Yellowfang nearly jumped out of her pelt as a new voice broke the silence, snapping her out of her reverie. She whipped around. A small black tom with one white paw stood before her, his face blank. Tinypaw. Another kit from outside ShadowClan. Another kit that was victim to Brokenstar’s cruelty. She blinked at him, not quite processing his words, her thoughts still swirling with StarClan’s message.
“Lightpaw.” Tinypaw spoke quietly. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Yellowfang sighed deeply. “Yes, Tinypaw. He was gone before Brokenstar brought him to me.”
“Can I see him?” Tinypaw asked.
Yellowfang fliched. She wanted to spare this kit from the horrors of witnessing his dead denmate. “Tinypaw, I really don’t think that’s—"
“I was at the training session where it happened.” Tinypaw cut her off. “Brokenstar set three of us against him. Said that he needed to train twice as hard as the rest of us because he was apprenticed late. We all were doing out best to go easy on him, but that only made Brokenstar angrier. He said that if we wouldn’t give Lightpaw a proper fight, he’d do it himself. And that’s when he tore him to shreds.” The monotone of Tinypaw’s voice was chilling.
“Tinypaw, I…” Yellowfang trailed off, unsure of what she should say. What she could say.
“It isn’t right. Forcing cats to kill each other like this.” Tinypaw’s even tone broke.
“No,” Yellowfang sighed, “It isn’t. I wish things were different.”
“I’m going to make things different.” The determination in Tinypaw’s soft voice caused Yellowfang to freeze. Could Tinypaw be the fire StarClan spoke of?
“One day, I’m going to make Brokenstar pay for every bit of suffering he has brought upon others. And I’ll shred every cat that stood by and let him do it, too. They’ll all pay.”
Yellowfang felt the hope in her heart turn to ice. His venomous words belied a heart full of hate, and while she couldn’t blame him for it, she knew something wasn’t quite right. No, something deep inside told her that Tinypaw was very much not the fire that StarClan promised. He was something else. ShadowClan needed a light that would cut through the dark, righting the wrongs that Brokenstar had committed while restoring their hope for the future. In Tinypaw’s ice blue eyes, Yellowfang saw the promise of revenge and justice, but no peace. No hope. I must watch him closely from now on, to guide his paws along the right path. But if Tinypaw isn’t the fire that StarClan spoke of… then what is?
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed the prologue! I'll try to update every Monday. Leave a comment if you'd like! Hearing from you gives me the motivation to write.
Chapter Text
“Taste my claws of fury, WindClan foxheart!” Firekit sprung at Mistkit, flailing his paws wildly. “I, Fireblaze, the noble deputy of ShadowClan, have come to take revenge for Raggedstar!”
Mistkit wailed as he bowled her over, squirming to escape his grasp. “You’ll never win against the righteous fury of ShadowCl—” Firekit broke off as another furry body bowled into him, sending him flying off of Mistkit.
“Hahaha! Nobility and righteousness mean nothing to a WindClan warrior! We’re evil and stuff! You’ll never defeat us!” Wildkit proclaimed, standing over Firekit. “Do you surrender?”
“Never!” Firekit hissed. “A warrior of ShadowClan never gives up a fight!” Firekit struggled, pinned beneath his brother’s paws. If I can just pull my hindlegs up under his belly, I know I can kick him off! But it was useless. Wildkit was larger than him, and Firekit couldn’t move enough to get his paws where they needed to be. Firekit growled at the smug look on Wildkit’s face. Come on you frogbrain, it’s your turn to be WindClan, and that means you have to let us win. Firekit’s gaze flickered past his brother’s gloating face. Behind them, another kit was stalking forward, one quiet pawstep at a time. Leafkit! If they timed it just right, they could tumble Wildkit and pin him together. But that still leaves Mistkit to deal with. Firekit scanned the area for his sister, but saw nothing. He rolled his eyes. She probably went wailing to Fernshade about how we’re playing too rough. That means we better finish this quickly. Firekit stopped struggling, bracing himself for Leafkit’s pounce. Wildkit looked down at him in confusion, opening his jaws to ask once more for his surrender. But before he could say a word, Leafkit was upon him and Firekit was struggling beneath him once more, doing his best to unbalance his massive brother. Finally, Firekit felt one of Wildkit’s paws slip. There’s my opportunity! Firekit wiggled out from his brother’s grasp, immediately turning to join Leafkit on the offensive. Leafkit was clearly trying to crush her brother, hanging over his shoulders with her hind legs flailing in the air, searching for purchase. Her strength alone clearly wasn’t enough to topple their great oaf of a brother. But with two of them? Even Wildkit wouldn’t stand a chance. Firekit flung himself onto his brother’s back alongside his sister. “Take that, WindClan scum!” he hissed with joy. There was a momentary pause while Wildkit struggled to hold up under the weight of both Firekit and Leafkit, but Firekit finally felt his brother’s legs tremble as they gave way, sending all three kits tumbling to the ground. The battle isn’t over yet! Not until Wildkit surrenders! Firekit sprung to his paws, quicker than either of his siblings. But just as he parted his jaws to demand his brother’s surrender, a new voice joined the fray. “Firekit, Leafkit and Wildkit! Come here this instant!”
Firekit felt his blood run cold. There was one thing scarier than a WindClan warrior: an angry Fernshade. And from the tone of her voice, she was not happy. Firekit exchanged a wide-eyed look with Leafkit and Wildkit before all three of them slunk over to the entrance of the nursery where their furious mother awaited. None of them dared to say a word. “Just what were the three of you thinking?” Fernshade hissed.
Firekit dared a glance up at his mother, and found Mistkit peeking out from behind their mother’s furious form. “Um… we were playing ShadowClan verses WindClan. It was Leafkit’s idea.” Firekit explained in a tiny voice.
“Hey!” Leafkit whined.
“I don’t care whose idea it was.” Fernshade growled. “You all know better than to play games with your claws unsheathed. Look at what you’ve done to Mistkit’s nose!”
For the first time, Firekit noticed the tiny trickle of blood running down his sister’s nose. She always ruins our fun the moment she gets a scratch. Firekit thought bitterly. Still, he hadn’t meant to hurt his sister. “I’m sorry, Fernshade. I guess we got carried away.” Firekit mewed earnestly. But Wildkit wasn’t so quick to back down. “That’s barely even a scratch! Besides, Brokenstar says that real warriors always fight with their claws unsheathed, so that they know the consequences of failure!”
“Too true, little one.” A deep voice rumbled from behind them. All three kits whipped around to stare up into the broad face of Brokenstar himself. “Your kits are strong, Fernshade. They will all be fine warriors; a credit to ShadowClan. Take pride in that. “He meowed smoothly.
“My kits are barely weaned. They’re too young to be playing so rough!” Fernshade hissed.
“They won’t be kits for much longer,” Brokenstar mewed. “In another half-moon, they’ll be joining their brother for real warrior training. Coddling them won’t help them then.”
“Yes! We can’t wait to be apprentices!” Leafkit squeaked. “Please can we start our training now Brokenstar? We want to join Badgerpaw in the next raid on WindClan territory!”
“That is enough, young lady!” Fernshade growled, sweeping all three kits behind her with her tail.
“Hmm…” Brokenstar pondered. “It makes me happy to see young ones so eager to serve their Clan. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer. I wouldn’t want to upset your mother.” He winked, strolling away.
Firekit felt Fernshade’s tense body relax as Brokenstar retreated. Why was she so upset, he wondered? Surely she wants us to be the best warriors we can be too, right? “Listen, you three,” Fernshade’s voice was much gentler this time. “I know you’re eager to be warriors, but there is a time and place for everything. There’s no honor in wounding your littermate over a silly game.”
“But it’s not just a game!” Firekit dared to protest. “Badgerpaw is out there right now, fighting WindClan warriors! We want to be there with him. To help and protect him, like good littermates!”
Fernshade’s eyes glittered with pain, and she bent down to nuzzle Firekit. “I know you want to help Badgerpaw, my brave little warriors. But I need you too. Real battles are very dangerous, and I’m so worried for Badgerpaw’s safety. And since Darkflower is out on patrol right now, I need my big, strong kits to comfort me and protect me. Do you think that you can do that?”
“Of course, Fernshade!” Wildkit puffed up proudly. “We’ll keep you safe!”
“I love you all so much,” Fernshade choked.
“Oh mother, don’t cry!” Leafkit mewed. “We’re here for you.” Firekit snuggled in close to Fernshade’s warm pelt along with his siblings. But the peaceful moment was soon broken. The bushes at the edge of camp rustled as Ravenpaw’s lithe form tore broke through them.
“The battle patrol is returning!” He yowled, drawing the attention of the whole camp.
“And?” Brokenstar stepped forward to meet the panting apprentice. “How does it look? Did they win?”
“It seems like it,” Ravenpaw gasped, “But Darkflower sent me back to camp to tell Yellowfang to prepare for injuries.”
The broad faced gray molly emerged from the medicine cat’s den at the edge of the clearing. “I’ve been ready all morning, little one.” She rasped. “Do you know how many are injured?”
“At least five,” Ravenpaw responded. “But—”
“Five?” Yellowfang meowed in shock. “Out of seven cats? This was supposed to be a simple raid on their border! Or is there something you haven’t told us, Brokenstar?” Yellowfang growled.
“It’s true, there was a… change of plans at the last minute.” Brokenstar meowed calmly. “I instructed Blackfoot to lead the patrol deeper into WindClan territory to send them a message.”
“In to WIndClan territory?” Yellowfang spat in disbelief. “With only seven cats? Have you gone mad?”
“Do not question your leader, you old bag of bones!” Brokenstar snarled. “Every ShadowClan warrior fights worth three WindClan warriors!”
“Oh so I suppose Ravenpaw just imagined the five injured warriors then?”
“He’s an apprentice! Who knows what he saw? We’ll know soon enough when the patrol returns.”
“Brokenstar, Yellowfang, please listen!” Ravenpaw meowed. “There are at least five cats injured, but one cat is—”
Before Ravenpaw could finish his sentence, the bushes at the edge of camp rustled once more. Darkflower and Flintfang emerged first, carrying a small, battered body across their shoulders, their tails low. They padded silently into the center of the clearing, gently setting down the bloodied cat.
“Badgerpaw!” Fernshade’s screech broke the silence, and Firekit felt his heart stop. It can’t be. Badgerpaw is so big and strong… he has to be okay! Firekit heard a whimper from beside him. Mistkit. The small molly was trembling like a leaf. Firekit brushed up against his sister’s pelt. “It’s okay, Mistkit. I’m sure Badgerpaw is alright.” Firekit tried to disguise the waver of uncertainty in his voice. Mistkit’s huge blue eyes met his.
“Do you really think so?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Well, let’s go and see.” Firekit mewed, trying to sound hopeful. He slowly led his siblings across the clearing to Fernshade’s side. The molly was hunched over her son, shoulders trembling as she let out quiet sobs.
“Badgerpaw?” Firekit tried gently. “Are you okay?”
There was no response.
“Badgerpaw?” Wildkit mewed urgently. “Come on Badgerpaw, wake up! You have to-have to t-tell us about the battle. You promised!”
“That’s enough, kits.” Darkflower mewed softly. “Badgerpaw is… Badgerpaw is dead.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Leafkit let out a wordless wail, throwing herself into Darkflower’s thick fur. “No! No he can’t be gone!” Firekit felt frozen in place. Badgerpaw, their kind, strong, courageous older brother… was dead? Somewhere in camp, some cat was letting out a thin, eerie wail. It took Firekit a moment to realize that the sound was coming from himself. He let Darkflower gather him close along with his littermates as they processed the loss of Badgerpaw together.
Flintfang, Badgerpaw’s mentor and uncle, quietly made his way up to the grieving family. “He was very brave.” He mewed, his voice calm and measured. “I told him… I told him that StarClan would surely make him a warrior when he joined their ranks. He chose the name Badgerfang.” Fernshade let out a broken sob at her brother’s words.
At that announcement, Brokenstar decided to speak up. “Badgerfang sacrificed himself for the good of ShadowClan. He would have made an excellent warrior, and we will all mourn his loss.”
“Sacrifice?” The fury in the voice that responded was so uncharacteristic, it took Firekit a moment to place it. Flintfang was standing, his fur bristling with anger. The gentle cadence he’d spoken in only moments ago was gone.
“Sacrifice?!” Flintfang repeated. “What sacrifice? You sent that kit off to be slaughtered!” Flintfang yowled.
“Careful Flintfang,” Brokenstar growled, baring his teeth, “you are speaking to your leader.”
“I don’t care who you are,” Flintfang spat, “what you did—what you are doing—is wrong. I want no part of it. Badgerfang was too young to be in that battle. I will never again train another kit that should still be sleeping at his mother’s belly.”
What is he talking about? Firekit wondered in confusion. Badgerfang was four moons old. All ShadowClan kits are apprenticed by then. The other Clans apprentice their kits later because they’re weaker… right? He looked to Brokenstar to see how his leader would respond. Surely Brokenstar would clear up any misunderstanding, tell Flintfang that Badgerfang was old enough to be fighting, because ShadowClan cats were better and stronger than any other Clan. But if that were true, why is Badgerfang dead? Firekit pushed down the tiny voice of doubt. Brokenstar was the Clan leader, and that meant he had StarClan’s approval. Brokenstar was always right.
But at that moment, the Clan leader did not bear the expression of a cat who knew he was in the right. His lips were pulled back into a snarl, and his eyes blazed with cold fury. For a moment, Firekit was afraid that he would spring at Flintfang right then and there. Then, all at once, his tense form relaxed, and an almost… gleeful expression took over his face. “Is that so?” Brokenstar purred. “Well, I was going to offer you another chance to train one of ShadowClan’s warriors, but… if you don’t want another apprentice, I’m sure there’s no shortage of cats who do. And what’s this? It just so happens that we have four kits who are old enough to be apprenticed right here and now. They told me so themselves, today.”
Flintfang’s furious expression morphed into horror “You wouldn’t. They’re not even three moons old yet!”
“Wouldn’t I?” Brokenstar purred. “Its only right that the siblings of such a brave warrior get the chance to prove themselves as well.” With that, Brokenstar turned and sprang onto the Tallstump in one fluid motion. “Firekit, Wildkit, Leafkit and Mistkit, come forward.” Brokenstar bellowed.
Firekit shuffled uncertainly. What was going on? Brokenstar himself had said that they weren’t ready to be apprentices yet, just before the patrol arrived. Why did he change his mind? He looked to Fernshade for some cue as to what to do, but his mother was so consumed by grief for her eldest kit that she made no move to meet his eyes. Maybe Darkflower, then? But his other mother had squeezed her eyes shut, her claws digging into the soft ground of the clearing. I guess we have to figure this out for ourselves then… Firekit’s hesitancy was not shared by Wildkit, it seemed. The little tom strutted forward with determination. Well, I can’t leave him there by himself. Firekit shakily led his sisters to join Wildkit. Brokenstar looked down at the four of them, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
“Cats of ShadowClan, today we have lost one apprentice, but we will welcome four more! Wildkit and his siblings are old enough to become apprentices, and will begin their training immediately.” Brokenstar announced. “Now, who should mentor them…?” He wondered out loud. “Ah! I know. Wildkit, for such a strong, determined tom, its only right that I mentor you myself. From this day forward, until you earn your warrior name, you shall be known as Wildpaw. I promise to make you into the greatest warrior ShadowClan has ever seen.”
The newly named Wildpaw bounced in excitement. “Thank you Brokenstar! I promise I’ll make you proud, and live up to Badgerfang’s legacy!”
“I’m sure you will,” Brokenstar meowed silkily. “Now… Leafkit! Your mentor will be… Clawface! A strong warrior to train a strong molly, eh? Leafkit, from this day forward, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Leafpaw.” Clawface, who had been part of today’s battle patrol—Firekit wasn’t sure when the rest of the patrol had returned, but they were here now—had a nasty gash on his shoulder, but he stepped forward proudly to greet his new apprentice. Leafpaw rose up to touch noses with her new mentor uncertainly.
“Now, on to Mistkit… your mentor will be—”
“Stop.” Flintfang cut Brokenstar off. His voice sounded utterly defeated. “Stop. I’ll train Mistkit. Whoever you appoint would… would only brutalize her.”
“Excellent!” Brokenstar purred. “I knew you could be persuaded. So glad you came around in the end. Mistkit, from this day forward, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Mistpaw.” Mistpaw, who was clearly still reeling from the loss of Badgerfang, made no move to greet her new mentor, but Flintfang didn’t seem upset by this. Instead, he gently shepherded her towards the apprentice’s den. “Come on, Mistpaw, lets get you settled into your new den so you can get some rest before Badgerfang’s vigil tonight.” Brokenstar watched the two go without complaint, before fixing his gaze on Firekit. Without his siblings beside him, Firekit felt so very small and alone. He wanted to shrink away from Brokenstar’s gaze, but forced himself to stand tall. Why am I so nervous? Brokenstar is my leader. He only wants the best for me.
“Now, that still leaves the matter of Firekit’s mentor uncertain. Who to pick…” Brokenstar pondered.
“I’ll train him.” A small, clear mew offered. Firekit whipped around to try and pinpoint the cat that might be his new mentor. The gathered crowd parted to reveal a small black tom with one white paw. Tinyscar. Firekit had rarely interacted with the quiet warrior. Why would he, of all cats, want to train Firekit?
“Oh? Well, isn’t this new.” Brokenstar’s meow was sickeningly delighted. “Tinyscar, its rare that you take an interest in Clan life. By all means, if you’d like to train Firekit, I’d be more than happy to make you his mentor. Firekit, from this day forward until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Firepaw. Clan dismissed.” With that, Brokenstar hopped down from the Tallstump, clearly not interested enough to watch mentor and apprentice meet for the first time. I suppose that asking Blackfoot about the battle is a far more important matter.
Firepaw stepped forward to meet his new mentor, who was currently making his way through the dispersing crowd. Firepaw shyly tried to meet Tinyscar’s gaze. “I-I look forward to learning from you.” He stuttered. Tinyscar’s icey blue gaze assessed him silently. The small tom gave him a tiny nod of acknowledgement. “We start tomorrow at dawn. Be ready.” With that, Tinyscar turned and padded off to the fresh kill pile. Firepaw wilted. His new mentor didn’t even seem mildly interested in him.
Firepaw was finally an apprentice. He’d been dreaming of this day since the moment he opened his eyes. He’d played this moment over and over again in his mind, imagining every detail, wondering who his mentor it would be, what his mothers would say. What Badgerpaw would say. But Badgerpaw was dead, and being an apprentice didn’t feel at all like he’d imagined it would.
Notes:
Poor Firepaw :( he's off to such a rough start. I wish I could tell you it'll get better for him but...
Chapter Text
Firepaw woke to a quiet whimpering beside him. Leafpaw. The four siblings had made their nests almost on top of each other the night before in a silent agreement. None of them said it, but they weren’t ready to sleep alone. Without Fernshade and the warmth of the nursery, the apprentice’s den felt so cold and empty. Firepaw turned in his nest to face Leafpaw.
“Leafpaw, what’s wrong? It’s not even dawn yet. We should be getting as much rest as we can before our first day of training.” Firepaw whispered.
“I-I know,” Leafpaw sniffled, “it’s just that I had a dream about hunting w-with Badgerfang. And then I woke up and he wasn’t here. And I remembered that he’s dead!”
Firepaw’s heart broke all over again. In the early hours of the morning, he’d almost been able to forget the events of the day before. Almost. After their sudden apprentice ceremony, the siblings had been given time to mourn their lost brother. They’d spent almost the whole day curled up with their mothers, saying little but taking comfort from one another’s presence. Sometime after sun-high, Firepaw had drifted off to the soothing laps of Darkflower’s tongue. When he’d awoke again, it was time for Badgerpaw- no, Badgerfang’s ceremony. It was the first vigil Firepaw had ever attended. He’d seen them before, of course, once for Finchflight a moon ago and again for Mintpaw, Marigoldpaw’s brother, a quarter-moon ago. But the short vigils were reserved for only those cats who had been close to the deceased, and thus Badgerfang’s was the first he participated in. The first any of his siblings had participated in. Darkflower had had to drag a wailing Mistpaw out of the nest to get her to attend the ceremony. The little molly had shrieked that she didn’t want to go because she was scared, she didn’t want to see Badgerfang’s body all over again. Firepaw hadn’t really thought about it until that moment—he’d been dealing with things today as they occurred, and he hadn’t spent any time thinking about what was to come—but he realized then that he shared Mistpaw’s reservations. He didn’t want to see his brother, who’d been so strong and full of energy in life, cold and bloodied and motionless. That wasn’t how he wanted to remember him. Not at all. He’d felt himself begin to tremble, and had been about to open his mouth to join Mistpaw’s protests, when Wildpaw spoke up. “We’re apprentices now. We can’t hide like kits just because we’re scared. Besides, we owe it to Badgerfang to say goodbye, and to see him off to StarClan.”
Wildpaw’s words, which were surprisingly mature for the energetic tom, managed to convince all of the siblings. Still, though, Firepaw had to force himself not to turn and run as they approached Yellowfang and Flintfang, who were waiting patiently beside Badgerfang’s body. But as they got closer, he relaxed. Badgerfang looked nothing like he had that morning. The blood had been carefully washed from his fur, and his wounds were almost invisible, covered with purple and white flowers. Firepaw felt his mother tremble beside him.
“He loved lavender,” Darkflower choked. “Thank you, Yellowfang.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Yellowfang murmured. “I only wish I’d been there to-to try and save him.”
Fernshade shook her head. “This… this wasn’t your fault.” She managed to respond. Yellowfang wordlessly brushed her tail over Fernshade’s trembling shoulders before quietly retreating to the medicine den, allowing the family space to mourn.
They’d sat there around Badgerfang’s cold body, all of them silent. Finally, Flintfang spoke up. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t protect him. I failed you. I failed him.” He said miserably.
“No. This wasn’t your fault either.” Darkflower spat. “We all know what the real problem is here. That flea-infested, fox-hearted, pathetic excuse for a lea—”
“Quiet!” Fernshade hissed, cutting her mate off. “He could hear you. Then where will we be?”
Darkflower’s fur bristled, and for a moment Firepaw had thought she was going to say something, but she never did. Instead, she wordlessly settled in beside Fernshade, pressing close to her mourning mate’s side. Firepaw hadn’t really understood what they’d been talking about, but he knew that now wasn’t the time to ask. He shifted his paws, pressing his nose into Badgerfang’s cold pelt, and let himself grieve.
The family sat there in silence for quite some time—how long exactly, Firepaw wasn’t sure, but when moonhigh arrived, Flintfang broke the silence once again. “We need to bury him,” the gray tom whispered. “If we wait much longer, we won’t be able to rise at dawn, and you know what Brokenstar will say about that.”
“I think… I think we’re ready.” Fernshade responded quietly.
Firepaw wanted to protest, to resist and wail and refuse to let his brother go for the last time. But instead he remained silent.
“You kits should get to bed,” Darkflower mewed gently. “Brokenstar wants you training tomorrow. Besides, you don’t need to see this.”
Firepaw wasn’t sure what to say to that, but before he had a chance to try, Wildpaw spoke for him. “Alright, mother. I’ll make sure everyone makes it to their nests. Goodbye, Badgerfang. Watch over us from StarClan. We’ll make you proud.” Firepaw was grateful for his brother’s response. It meant he didn’t have to think. To find the right words. He just had to follow his brother’s lead, and allow himself to be shepherded to his nest in the apprentice’s den, before collapsing into a restless sleep. Now, in the early hours of the morning, Wildpaw was asleep, and Firepaw did have to be the one to find the right words, to figure out how to comfort not only Leafpaw, but himself as well.
“I miss him so much Firepaw! Why did he have to leave?” Leafpaw’s voice was getting dangerously close to a wail. Out of the corner of his eye, Firepaw could see Dustpaw grumpily putting a paw over his ears. Firepaw scooted into his sister’s nest.
“I know. I miss him too. But… but all we can do now is be the best warriors we possibly can be. For him. We have to do the things he never got the chance to do.” Firepaw wasn’t sure that his words made any sort of sense, but he hoped that they would at least help Leafpaw stop crying.
“I’m going to be the strongest warrior ShadowClan has ever seen,” Leafpaw sniffled. “So strong that nobody I love will ever get hurt again.”
“We’ll do it together,” Firepaw promised. Leafpaw’s sniffles faded into soft peaceful snores once more. Good, Firepaw thought. We all need the rest.
Despite his thoughts, Firepaw couldn’t bring himself to fall back asleep. His mind kept swirling with thoughts about how Badgerfang’s last moments must have been. If he’d been scared. If he’d known… that he was going to die. Eventually, Firepaw realized that he wouldn’t be sleeping any more right now, and decided to get up instead. Besides, Tinyscar had told him to be up at dawn for training, and that couldn’t be far off now.
Firepaw emerged from his den into the silent camp. No other cat was up yet, it seemed. Firepaw spent the next few minutes pacing around the clearing, unsure as to what to do. He nearly leapt out of his fur when the bushes at the edge of camp rustled, and a cat pushed their way through. Tinyscar must’ve been returning from some early hunting, judging by the frog and vole clutched in his jaws. The small tom’s eyes widened slightly when he saw Firepaw. Firepaw scrambled over to his mentor, who was making his way over to the fresh kill pile.
“What are you doing up?” Tinyscar asked, depositing his prey on the pile. “I’m quite sure I told you to be up at dawn, not before.” His tone wasn’t unkind, mostly just confused.
“I couldn’t sleep anymore.” Firepaw admitted.
Tinyscar tilted his head. “Nightmares?” he asked.
“Something like that,” Firepaw conceded, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“It’s alright. I get them too.” Tinyscar admitted.
“You? But you always seem so calm!” Firepaw blurted out, belatedly realizing that this might have been a very rude thing to say.
“Is that how you see me?” Tinyscar murmured, sounding mildly curious. “No matter. If you’re up, you might as well help me carry the rest of my prey back to camp. I left a pair of birds near the Burnt Sycamore, and another frog near the Mire.”
Firepaw scampered after his mentor, who was already padding through the bushes to the bracken tunnel leading out of camp. “That’s a lot of prey,” Firepaw mewed, hoping to please his mentor with a compliment. “How long were you out?”
“Long enough.” Tinyscar responded curtly, looking straight ahead. “It doesn’t matter.”
Okay, clearly he doesn’t want to talk. Firepaw kept his mouth shut after that, dutifully following behind his mentor. They were quiet for so long that Firepaw jumped a bit when Tinyscar broke the silence. “This way. I buried the vole under that bush. Want to go retrieve it for me?”
“Of course!” Firepaw sprang forward, eager to please his mentor. But when he landed his jump, he found himself elbow deep in muck. He yowled in shock, struggling to free himself from the muck. Wordlessly, Tinyscar grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him from the smelly mud. Firepaw felt his paws come free with a disturbing, sucking sound. Tinyscar deposited him on dry ground under the bush he’d pointed out earlier. He’s going to think I’m such a fool, Firepaw thought miserably. What a way to start off my first day of training with my mentor! But when he finally dared to make eye contact with his mentor, he found an expression of quiet amusement, not annoyance, on the small tom’s face.
“Lesson one—always look before you leap.” Tinyscar meowed mirthfully.
“I’ll uh… remember that.” Firepaw mumbled. “Hey, did you know that was there? You sent me that way on purpose!”
“I believe experience is the best teacher.” Tinyscar replied loftily. “If I’d told you the mud was there, you’d have avoided it this time, but you wouldn’t really watch your step around ShadowClan territory in the future. Now, you’ll always think about where you place your paws.”
“I guess…” Firepaw conceded. “But hey, how come you didn’t sink into the mud?”
“Well, I didn’t take a massive leap onto it for one thing,” Tinyscar explained, “but more importantly, I splayed my paws out like this.” Tinyscar held up his one white paw to demonstrated. Firepaw noticed that his toes were all spread out rather than tucked neatly together. “It spreads your weight, and helps you avoid falling into the mud.”
Firepaw tried to mimic Tinyscar’s splayed-paw trick. “It’s really uncomfortable. How do you walk around like this all the time?”
“You’ll get used to it. And I don’t walk like this all the time,” Tinyscar replied. “Only areas like this, where the ground is soft.” Tinyscar gestured to the surrounding territory. “This place in particular, we call the Mire. The ground here is always soggy, always muddy, and always unpleasant. See how there aren’t many bushes and trees around here? The ground is too soft for them to take root.”
“Even the trees won’t grow here?” Firepaw exclaimed. “Why on earth would any cat choose to go to the Mire?”
“Well,” Tinyscar chuckled, “If you can get past the awful stench of the place, and deal with the mud, you’ll find its teeming with life. Listen.”
Firepaw did as he was instructed, and closed his eyes, letting sound dominate his senses. After a few moments of silence, he heard a frog croaking to his right. Somewhere ahead of him, some type of bird let out a long, scolding cry. “Wow, you’re right!” Firepaw chirped. “Can I try to catch something? The frog maybe?”
“You’re not catching anything here until you can take at least two steps in the Mire without sinking into the mud. Not to mention learning your hunting crouch. But we’ll practice those things another day. Come on, grab the frog I left behind here and we’ll head out. I still need to show you the Burnt Sycamore,” Tinyscar mewed.
“Is there going to be another patch of mud for me to fall into there?” Firepaw meowed wryly.
“No,” Tinyscar chuckled, trotting off. “but there’ll be a stream for you to wash off the remnants of your last adventure!” He called over his shoulder.
“I can’t wait!” Firepaw picked up Tinyscar’s frog, and bounded after his mentor, careful to avoid the mud he’d gotten stuck in before. Maybe training under Tinyscar wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Notes:
Things are looking up for Firepaw with his mentor! It'd be a shame if anything happened to ruin that.
Chapter Text
By the time Firepaw and Tinyscar returned to camp, jaws full with Tinyscar’s early morning catch, the rest of the camp was waking up. Firepaw looked around eagerly for his siblings, but his tail drooped when they were nowhere to be found.
“If you’re looking for the others, they’re already out with their mentors,” a familiar voice offered. Firepaw whipped around, dropping the frog he’d been carrying.
“Darkflower!” He mewed happily. His mother’s eyes were tired and still filled with grief over the loss of Badgerfang, but there was a hint of pride in her gaze.
“Good morning, Firepaw,” she mewed warmly. “Did you catch that frog yourself?”
“Er, no,” Firepaw folded his ears, slightly embarrassed. “Its Tinyscar’s catch. I was just helping him carry it back, since I woke up early.”
“How dutiful,” Darkflower chuckled. “Would you like to bring it to Fernshade? She hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning. I bet seeing you would help her mood quite a bit.”
Firepaw looked to his mentor for approval, and gave a bounce of excitement at his mentor’s small nod. “Yes, I’d love to!” Firepaw responded. “Is she sleeping in the warrior’s den again, now that we’re all apprentices?”
“No,” Darkflower meowed carefully, “I don’t think she’s ready to leave behind the nursery just yet. Being around Newtspeck’s new kits will do her well. Give her something to help fill the void left by Badgerfang.”
“What about you?” Firepaw asked cautiously, trotting alongside his mother. “Do you… I mean, is there…” Firepaw was having trouble formulating his question.
“If you’re trying to ask if I miss Badgerfang too, of course I do.” Darkflower meowed softly. Firepaw flinched. It sounded so callous when put like that. “My heart breaks every time I think of him. Of how I’ll never see him again. But every cat deals with grief differently. For Fernshade, it helps to have someone to take care of. For me, I need space to grieve. I take walks at night, and look up at the stars. Try to guess which ones are my loved ones, watching over me. There’s no wrong way to do it.”
“I think I understand,” Firepaw responded quietly. “I’m not sure… what my way to grieve is.”
“And that’s okay,” Darkflower meowed. “You don’t need to have the words to explain it. Just do what feels right, and what helps your heart heal.” Darkflower gave her long pelt a shake. “Now, let’s get this frog to Fernshade, shall we?”
___
Firepaw felt the sun warm his pelt as he stepped out of the nursery. Spending time with his mothers had been nice, especially after last night. Fernshade was still quiet and subdued, but she’d managed a few bites of the frog Firepaw brought her, and asked about his morning with Tinyscar. Now, Firepaw was eager to see what his mentor had in store for him next. He scanned the camp for Tinyscar, and found him finishing up a meal with Dawncloud and Russetfur near the fresh-kill pile. He approached the three warriors respectfully, dipping his head to them as he drew near. Russetfur snorted in amusement.
“Well look at that! Seems you’ve snagged yourself a polite little apprentice, Tinyscar.”
Tinyscar gave a rather half-hearted grunt of agreement. “Bet that’s why you asked to mentor him,” Russetfur continued, apparently not bothered by Tinyscar’s lack of engagement. “You must’ve somehow known he’d be an easy one to teach. Look at him! The kit’s as nervous as a WindClan hare just talking to us oh so mighty warriors.”
Firepaw felt his ears go hot. “F-Fernshade taught me to always respect my elders!” He squeaked.
“Are you calling me old?” Russetfur growled.
“N-no! Of course not! I didn’t mean--!”
“Relax, kit,” Russetfur chuckled. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I only wish my apprentice was half as respectful as you! Stars above, Ashpaw challenges me at every turn! Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the mentor.” Russetfur rose to her paws, giving her legs a long, leisurely stretch. “Speaking of which, I promised to take her out hunting near the WindClan border before sun-high. I’d best get going.”
“Is that wise?” Tinyscar asked, not looking up from the paw he was grooming.
Russetfur stiffened, the fur along her spine bristling. “What do you mean?”
“Only that after the battle yesterday, WindClan will be on high alert for ShadowClan intruders.” Tinyscar responded coolly.
Russetfur’s pelt flattened, and she relaxed. “Oh. So that’s what you meant. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she stays far away from the actual border markings. I’ll see you later, Dawncloud. Thanks for sharing a meal with me. And er, you too, Tinyscar.” Russetfur added awkwardly, dipping her head before bounding away.
“I should get going too,” Dawncloud mewed quietly. “I promised Featherstorm I’d catch her a bird.”
Firepaw finally found himself alone with his mentor. After a few moments of rather uncomfortable silence, it was clear that Tinyscar had no intention of initiating a conversation. Firepaw shuffled his paws awkwardly. “So, um… do you and Russetfur not… get along very well?” He tried.
Tinyscar took his time considering the question for a moment before responding. “That’s not exactly it. She’s in a rather… complicated situation with her apprentice. That’s all. Well, that and the fact that she likes Dawncloud a whole lot better than me.”
“I see,” Firepaw meowed lamely. Tinyscar’s answer wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was clearly the only one that he was going to get. Why does this conversation feel so stilted, Firepaw wondered? We were talking just fine when we were out collecting his prey. “Anyways… I was wondering what else we’re going to do today?” Firepaw asked, eager to do anything but continue this uncomfortable dialogue with his quiet mentor.
Tinyscar considered him briefly. “We’re not going to be doing anything else today.”
Firepaw instantly deflated, his hopes crushed. The optimism he’d felt about training under Tinyscar only a brief while ago evaporated like water in bright sunlight.
Tinyscar seemed to notice his disappointment, and, to Firepaw’s surprise, quickly reassured him. “It’s not that I don’t intend to teach you how to hunt and fight and show you our borders,” he explained, “but you clearly didn’t sleep much last night. Cats don’t learn well when they’re tired, and they tend to make mistakes. I don’t want you to overexert yourself on your first day.”
That’s actually surprisingly considerate, Firepaw thought. “Then… what should I do for the rest of today?” Firepaw mewed.
“You can help Yellowfang with the wounded,” Tinyscar responded. “After yesterday’s battle, there are a lot of injuries. I’m sure she’d appreciate the help.”
“Alright,” Firepaw meowed. He wasn’t exactly happy to be sent to do chores for Yellowfang, but at least he wouldn’t have to lay in his den alone with his thoughts all day. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear it.
____
Firepaw had never actually visited the medicine den. He knew well enough where it was, but had never had reason to go. He’d been curious, of course, as a kit, but Fernshade had made it abundantly clear that the medicine den was no place for rambunctious kits to be poking around. Now, slipping into the cool, shaded cave where Yellowfang dwelt, he could see why. Piles of dried herbs were lined up against the walls, sorted by expert paws with seasons of experience. Kits would wreak havoc in here. Firepaw could easily imagine himself a half-moon ago, tumbling around in this den with his siblings, scattering the herbs and putting all of Yellowfang’s hard work to waste. He wouldn’t have cared back then, about disturbing her work in pursuit of his own fun, but with Badgerfang’s recent death fresh in his mind, Firepaw harbored a newfound respect for the cranky old molly. “Yellowfang?” He called, unable to locate the medicine cat.
“Quiet!” Yellowfang’s broad face appeared from around a corner that he hadn’t noticed. “Nightpelt finally managed to fall asleep. He was up all night with that cough of his, and I don’t need you disturbing his rest.”
“Sorry,” Firepaw’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Tinyscar sent me to help you for the rest of the day.”
Yellowfang rolled her eyes. “Honestly! I appreciate the thought, but there are too many apprentices offering helping paws in this den already!”
Firepaw was about to ask who else was present when Poppypaw’s tortoiseshell face appeared round the corner beside Yellowfang. “Hi Firepaw!” She mewed cheerfully. “Congrats on becoming an apprentice! And sorry about Badgerfang. Oh gosh, those two things really don’t go together, do they? It feels really wrong to congratulate you and offer condolences in the same phrase. It probably sounded really heartless. I mean, I didn’t want to just ignore the fact that you became an apprentice since I didn’t get the chance to welcome you last night, but I also can’t just say that and ignore what happened with—”
“For the love of StarClan, put a mouse in it, Poppypaw!” Yellowfang cut off the younger molly’s chattering by promptly shoving her tail in her face.
“Thrry!” Poppypaw mumbled around a mouthful of fur. Yellowfang sighed and removed her tail, retreating back around the corner.
“Plegh!” Poppypaw made a rather strange face as she spat out the remnants of Yellowfang’s fur in her mouth. Firepaw hadn’t really had much chance to interact with the older apprentices, but this certainly wasn’t how he’d expected them to be. Were they all this… odd?
“Anyways!” Poppypaw chirped, her mouth apparently free of fur at last, “why don’t you come on back here? Auntie was just being dramatic because she was up all night.”
“I can still hear you!”
“Sorry auntie!” Poppypaw called a light apology over her shoulder before turning back to Firepaw, “as I was saying, there are so many injured cats from the battle yesterday. Yellowfang has her paws full caring for all of them! That’s why I’m here. Blackfoot was hurt pretty bad, so I won’t be doing my usual training for a bit, and so I thought, ‘hey, why not help out auntie Yellowfang until Blackfoot gets better?’ And so here I am!”
“And StarClan yowls for joy at your benevolence.” Yellowfang muttered sarcastically.
“Come on back here, Firepaw! I promise, Yellowfang really does want the help even if she doesn’t say it!” Poppypaw’s head disappeared back around the corner.
Firepaw slowly picked his way across the cave, taking care not to disturb any of the meticulously sorted piles of herbs. As he neared the “corner,” he found that it was actually the edge of the rock that made up the majority of the cave. There was a wide gap leading to a small clearing nestled between a few tall boulders. The clearing would be open to the sky, but some cat had meticulously dragged brambles and foliage over the open space to create a roof to the den. But the clearing itself wasn’t what drew Firepaw’s attention. No, it was the nests of injured, bloodied clanmates that drew his eye. The entire left side of Wolfstep’s face was swathed in white cobwebs, but the cobwebs on his flank were soaked through with dark red blood. Blackfoot, the massive ShadowClan deputy, looked smaller than Firepaw had ever seen him, curled up tightly in his nest with a wound across his back so deep that he could swear he saw bone. Firepaw instantly felt sick as the all too similar image of Badgerfang’s battered body flashed before his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, swaying on his paws as he tried to force himself not to turn tail and run back to the nursery. This is too much. I can’t be here, I can’t I can’t I can’t I-
“Firepaw.” Yellowfang’s stern voice broke through the haze that had started to overtake his mind. The old medicine cat was staring straight at him with wide, yellow eyes. It’s like she knows exactly what I’m feeling, Firepaw thought with a shudder.
“Why don’t you, Ravenpaw and Poppypaw go and gather some wet moss for me? You’re all of little use to me here in the den,” She suggested.
“Oh yes!” Poppypaw exclaimed. “I’ll show you all the best places for moss.”
“That sounds great, Poppypaw,” Firepaw mewed in relief, eager for an excuse to leave the medicine den. “Where can we find Ravenpaw?”
“I’m here,” Ravenpaw’s quiet mew sounded from the far corner of the den. The thin black tom was crouched beside the softly wheezing form of Nightpelt. “Should we gather cobwebs as well? And more coltsfoot for Nightpelt?” He asked, rising to his paws.
“That’d be a great help. Thank you, Ravenpaw.” Yellowfang responded.
“C’mon, let’s get moving!” Poppypaw cut in, vibrating with excitement. Does she get this worked up over everything? Firepaw wondered.
Firepaw and Ravenpaw let the energetic molly lead them out of the den. Out in the open air of the camp, Firepaw finally felt like he could breathe again. But there was little time to revel in the sudden sense of relaxation he felt, as Poppypaw was already pushing ahead towards the bracken tunnel.
“Don’t worry,” Ravenpaw meowed, “she’ll slow down when she realizes we’re not right on her tail. Or she’ll trip on a root. Both are equally likely.”
Somewhere past the bracken tunnel, Firepaw heard a loud squawk.
“Looks like it was the root,” Ravenpaw mewed.
Firepaw let out a small chuckle, adopting Ravenpaw’s relaxed pace rather than chasing after Poppypaw. “Is she always like this?” He asked.
“Pretty much,” Ravenpaw responded. “She tends to rush head first into everything. She’s a good friend, though.”
By the time the two toms had made it through the bracken tunnel, Poppypaw was back on her paws, and was clearly trying to convey that she’d chosen to wait for them instead of tripping. Firepaw spotted a few pine needles still sticking to her pelt, but chose not to point them out. “So,” he meowed, “where to?”
“Well, there’s always tons of moss growing around the Mire,” Ravenpaw suggested.
“Ugh, not that place,” Firepaw shuddered.
“Tinyscar already got to you?” Poppypaw giggled.
“How’d you know?” Firepaw asked, checking his pelt for any traces of mud.
“Its ShadowClan tradition,” Ravenpaw explained. “Every mentor brings their apprentice to the Mire to give them a taste of good old ShadowClan mud. Nightpelt, Blackfoot and Tangleburr did the same to me, Dustpaw and Poppypaw on our first trip out of camp. I can promise you, however much mud you got on you, it was nothing compared to Poppypaw.”
“You don’t have to tell him that!” Poppypaw mewed, folding her ears back in embarrassment.
“Oh, but it was such a sight to see!” Ravenpaw meowed good naturedly. “She leapt right into the middle of it. Mud went flying everywhere. Even the mentors got splattered. And of course, Poppypaw was drenched head to tail. Honestly, Nightpelt seemed genuinely impressed. Said he’d never seen an apprentice manage to get that much mud on themselves.”
“Well, Blackfoot told me to try my biggest leap to see if I could hit that patch of reeds!” Poppypaw defended.
“And you didn’t stop to wonder why?” Ravenpaw questioned. “Dustpaw and I didn’t even have the chance to get into the Mire before you got the Mire onto us.”
The mental image of Poppypaw diving headfirst into a vat of mud, drenching not only her fellow apprentices, but senior warriors like Nightpelt and Blackfoot, was too much for Firepaw to handle. He tried to choke back a snort, but failed miserably, devolving into a giggling mess.
Ravenpaw and Poppypaw stopped their lighthearted argument to stare at him. Through eyes squinted with laughter, Firepaw made out mildly pleased expressions on both of their faces. Were they trying to cheer me up? He wondered. When Firepaw finally stopped laughing, his heart felt the lightest it had been since yesterday morning. Gratitude for his fellow apprentices warmed his pelt. They barely know me, but they cared enough to try and make me laugh.
“So,” Firepaw heaved, still breathless from laughter, “if the Mire is out of the question, where to?”
“Ooh! I know! We could try the Slip-Stones! There’s always moss growing on the boulders there,” Poppypaw suggested.
“I’m not sure we’ll find any coltsfoot there, but since its not far from the Mire anyways, we could still swing by to grab some before heading back.” Ravenpaw meowed.
“Great!” Poppypaw chirped. “You’re going to love the Slip-Stones, Firepaw, I just know it! It’s my favorite place in the world!”
“Then by all means,” Firepaw meowed, “lead the way!”
Notes:
Not really satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but I wanted to post it anyways.
Chapter Text
The Slip-Stones, as it turned out, were a group of large, weathered boulders positioned between the slow-moving river that bisected ShadowClan territory and the Mire. Water from the river, brought to the Slip-Stones by a small offshoot, pooled around the bases of the ancient boulders, before trickling through the cracks between them. The air was heavy with the scent of wet moss; almost every stone in sight bore a dense coat of the stuff on the sun-side. Firepaw touched placed a paw on the bare side of one of the towering boulders, enjoying the sensation of the cool, wet stone on his pads. Poppypaw was right, Firepaw thought, this is a nice place. It was peaceful here in a way that the other parts of ShadowClan territory that Firepaw had seen thus far lacked. Where the rest of the forest was teeming with life and noise, the Slip-Stones were still and calm, silent except for the gentle sound of trickling water. It was as if the whole forest had yielded to the tranquility of this special place. Even Poppypaw, who had been chattering nonstop during the walk over, had gone surprisingly silent.
Reluctant to break the comfortable silence, Firepaw waited until Poppypaw gestured him over to a particularly moss-heavy boulder with her tail. She quietly showed him how to slip his paws under the sheet of moss and pull it away from the stone without shredding it. Once they’d separated a few rather impressive sections of moss, Poppypaw picked one up and gently maneuvered it over his back. Firepaw looked at her quizzically, not sure what she was trying to accomplish here. “This is the easiest way to carry the most moss,” Poppypaw whispered, forced to break the silence to explain her strange actions. “We’ll break it up into smaller, more usable chunks back at camp. But if you keep the moss in a sheet like this, you can carry way more by draping it over your back. You can even carry more than one sheet!” Firepaw wasn’t fond of the way the sodden moss was soaking his pelt, but he couldn’t deny the practicality of Poppypaw’s words. He was already carrying far more moss than he would have been able to fit into his jaws. “So,” Poppypaw mewed casually, already gently positioning the next moss-sheet over Firepaw’s back, “what do you think of the Slip-Stones?”
“Its beautiful here,” Firepaw responded earnestly. “It’s so tranquil. Thank you for bringing me here, Poppypaw.”
Poppypaw beamed at him with joy, her throat rumbling with a purr. “Can you drape one of these sheets over my back?” She asked. “I can’t do it myself. And careful not to break it!”
Firepaw obligingly picked up the delicate sheet of moss in the same way he’d seen Poppypaw do, carefully arranging it over the taller apprentice’s back. When he’d finished, he couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “You… really look like you’re turning into one of the boulders here,” he chuckled.
Poppypaw choked back something that Firepaw assumed was a laugh. “Stop! Once I start laughing, I really can’t stop, and then the moss will fall off or break from all my shaking!”
Just then, Ravenpaw appeared behind them, his jaws stuffed with some sort of plant wrapped with cobwebs. “I managed to find the coltsfoot,” he mewed, “and even some cobwebs! I didn’t think I’d find those anywhere near here, considering how damp it is. Now, if one of you would just help me load up with some moss, we can be on our way.”
While Poppypaw was expertly loading up multiple layers of moss onto Ravenpaw’s slender back, Firepaw decided to ask the question that’d been nagging at him for a while now. “Ravenpaw, do you want to become a medicine cat?”
“Hm? No, not really,” the thin black tom responded. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you seem to know a lot of medicine cat stuff. You knew where to find coltsfoot and what it looked like, so I thought maybe…” Firepaw trailed off.
“Maybe that was what I really wanted to do?” Ravenpaw finished. “It’s true that I know a bit about herbs, but that’s mostly because Nightpelt, my mentor, gets sick easily. He has this cough, the one Yellowfang mentioned this morning, that just won’t go away. He’s in the medicine den frequently, so I’ve taken to helping Yellowfang out whenever he can’t train me.”
“Can’t you ask Brokenstar to have another cat train you? If you tell him you’re falling behind in battle training, I’m sure he’ll listen,” Poppypaw cut in. “We started training at the same time, but Dustpaw, Lilypaw and I are all way ahead of you in terms of fighting techniques.”
“Maybe,” Ravenpaw meowed, “but Nightpelt has been a good mentor to me. He’s patient, and wise. I’ve learned a lot from him. I won’t turn my back on him just because he’s a little sickly. Besides, I think that there’s more to being a warrior than just fighting.”
Poppypaw gave him a funny look. “Well sure, but don’t you think fighting is the most important skill for a warrior to have? My father says nothing is more important than fighting. If we don’t fight, how can we protect the cats we love?”
“And what about the cats who can’t fight?” Ravenpaw mewed softly. “Or those who don’t want to?”
Firepaw’s mind drifted to thoughts of Mistpaw. His soft, gentle sister who went wailing to Fernshade over every little scratch she got while playing. She certainly wasn’t a born fighter, there was no doubt about that. Would she choose not to fight, if she could? He wondered.
Poppypaw shifted uncomfortably. “Blackfoot says that warriors have to be put first for the good of the Clan, or no cat will be safe.” Her voice was firm, but something in her tone made Firepaw wonder if she really believed what she was saying.
“Then who are we fighting to keep safe, if the cats who can’t fight aren’t valued as much as the rest of us?” Ravenpaw asked.
For once, Poppypaw did not reply.
___
Firepaw turned Poppypaw and Ravenpaw’s conversation over in his mind all the way back to camp. It was slow going with the moss sheets, and it gave him ample time to think. Brokenstar always tells us that strength in battle is everything for a ShadowClan warrior. But why do we fight so hard, if not to protect our weaker Clanmates? By the time they’d made it home, Firepaw still hadn’t come up with a good answer. As he approached the medicine den, his anxiety from the morning began to creep back into his mind, crowding out all other thoughts. Poppypaw and Ravenpaw strode confidently into the den, tails high, but Firepaw found himself rooted to the spot when he tried to force himself to cross the threshold.
Firepaw closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. It’s just the medicine den. Cats are there to heal, and they need this moss. After taking a moment to gather his courage, Firepaw took determined step into the medicine den, and promptly crashed into another furry body. He felt the moss slide off his back and growled in annoyance, opening his jaws to spit a few angry words at whatever careless cat had soiled the moss that he’d worked so hard to gather. But the words never came out.
Before him stood Wildpaw, sporting a deep, v-shaped notch in his left ear. The remnants of a hastily prepared poultice were smeared around the injury, as though someone had tried to wipe it away. On his shoulder, Firepaw spotted a nasty bite wound that was still oozing blood.
“Hey Firepaw!” Wildpaw meowed, his cheerful demeanor at odds with his wounds. “Looks like ya dropped your moss. Sorry ‘bout that. I was just so eager to get back at it!”
“What… what happened to you?” Firepaw mewed quietly.
“Oh, this?” Wildpaw flicked his injured ear, wincing a bit as he did. “Just an accident from battle training. I was nearly fast enough to dodge Brokenstar’s attack, but he just barely caught me by my ear. He says I’ll avoid it for sure next time!”
“But—but it’s your first day training!” Firepaw sputtered, taken aback. “No apprentice does battle training on their first day!”
“I know,” Wildpaw meowed proudly. “Brokenstar says that I’m special, so I can start immediately.”
“But that’s dangerous!” Firepaw protested.
Wildpaw’s eyes hardened. “What, you don’t think I’m good enough?” He growled.
“Its not about being good enough! We haven’t even learned our hunting crouches yet! I don’t think any apprentice has ever gone straight in to battle training without even learning to hunt!” Firepaw reasoned.
“It doesn’t matter what you think! Brokenstar says I’m ready, and so I am!” Wildpaw hissed. “If I ever want to avenge Badgerfang, I don’t have time to waste on useless chores like gathering moss.” Wildpaw stomped angrily on a chunk of the moss Firepaw had so carefully carried back to camp, grinding it into the soft dirt. “And I don’t have time to waste arguing with you about it! I need to get back to training.”
Firepaw chose to ignore his brother’s treatment of the moss, too concerned to feel angry. “You have to rest! You’re hurt!” Firepaw pleaded.
“Rest?” Wildpaw curled his lip. “Rest is for weaklings. Brokenstar says that a warrior fights until he collapses. A true warrior doesn’t rest after every little scratch. Now move!” Wildpaw shouldered past Firepaw, sending the smaller apprentice tumbling. Firepaw watched his brother go, feeling lonely and confused. What happened to the caring, brave Wildpaw from yesterday? Surely, a cat can’t change that much in a single day. But as Firepaw crouched down to pick up the trampled scraps of the moss, he realized that even he didn’t believe himself.
___
The rest of the day dragged on at a snail’s pace for Firepaw. Any chance at a halfway decent first day of training had been ruined by his conflict with Wildpaw. At first, he had tried to find Tinyscar, determined to convince him to give Firepaw something else to do today, anything to forget his awful spat with Wildpaw. But the small black tom was nowhere to be found around camp. He’s probably busy with oh-so important warrior things. Maybe he’s even avoiding me, he’d thought bitterly.
With no mentor, Firepaw was at a loss for what to do. He found that he didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened with Wildpaw. Not even Fernshade and Darkflower. They’d probably accuse him of trying to hold Wildpaw back from becoming a great warrior. Some small part of Firepaw’s mind knew that this wasn’t true, that his mothers would listen to him without judging him for his concerns. But that small voice of rationality was drowned out by a flood of anger and hurt. Why didn’t Wildpaw listen to him? Why wasn’t Tinyscar here, actually training Firepaw rather than sending him on errands? Finally, Firepaw decided that all he wanted to do was sleep, and try to forget about this awful day.
When he returned to his nest in the apprentice’s den, Firepaw was relieved to find the den empty. It was late enough in the day that the apprentices slated for night-training were already up, but early enough that those busy with day training were still out. Good, he thought. He didn’t want to talk right now. Not even to his sisters, or to Ravenpaw or Poppypaw. He just wanted to sleep. But he quickly found that he couldn’t even do that. He tossed and turned in his nest until the sun was low in the sky, and Leafpaw and Mistpaw returned to the den, chattering excitedly about how wonderful their first day of training had been. When they invited him to come share a squirrel with them—a squirrel that Leafpaw had caught, no less—he lied and said that he’d already eaten. They accepted his answer easily enough, and disappeared to share the squirrel with someone else.
As dusk faded into night, the apprentices who’d had day training returned to the den to tuck into their nests. Firepaw pretended to be asleep, still not ready to talk. The happy chattering of the other apprentices swapping stories about their days died down as the night wore on, replaced by soft, even breathing all around Firepaw. Even then, sleep evaded Firepaw.
Firepaw wasn’t sure how late it was when Wildpaw finally stumbled into the apprentice’s den, clearly exhausted. Firepaw made sure his back was turned to his brother, not yet over the fight they’d had earlier. He felt Wildpaw plop down into the nest beside him, and jerked away from his brother’s warm pelt.
“Firepaw.” Wildpaw breathed softly. Firepaw did not respond.
“Firepaw,” Wildpaw tried again. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, and I shouldn’t have been so rude over the moss. I hope you can forgive me.”
Just like that, the hurt that had sat heavy in Firepaw’s heart all day faded away. His brother was still the same kind cat. He turned to face Wildpaw, taking in the welcome sight of his brother. Firepaw tried to pretend he didn’t see the new scratches and missing tufts of fur decorating his brother’s pelt. Injuries that weren’t there when they argued earlier. If Wildpaw was trying to make things right, Firepaw wouldn’t jeopardize it by bringing up the new wounds. He didn’t want to be angry any longer. “I’m sorry too. I was just worried.”
“I know,” Wildpaw admitted. “But you have to trust me. And trust that Brokenstar knows what’s best for me. I want to become a strong warrior to protect you and Leafpaw and Mistpaw. So that I don’t lose any of you.”
“Frog-brain,” Firepaw purred, “I do trust you. But you don’t have to protect all of us all on your own. We’ll protect each other. We’re littermates. That’s what we do.”
Wildpaw purred in agreement, leaning in close to Firepaw. As the brothers drifted off to sleep side by side, Firepaw did his best to ignore his feeling that deep down, despite Wildpaw’s reassurance, something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Notes:
Hurray they made up and all is well I guess...?
In case anyone feels that this conflict was resolved too easily, remember that they're only 2.5 moons old right now. Like little kids, they fight easily and make up easily.
Chapter 7: Chapter 5
Notes:
Sorry for skipping a week! Job applications took up a bunch of time for me. Hopefully I'll be back on the normal schedule now.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Though Firepaw had feared that Tinyscar would want little to do with him after his unpleasant first day of training, his worries proved to be unfounded. Firepaw had been rather surprised when a sharp jab in his side had woken him up on his second morning as an apprentice, and even more so when he opened his eyes to find his mentor standing over him, the same blank expression as usual plastered across his face.
“I hope you slept better tonight, Firepaw,” the small black tom had murmured, his voice low to avoid waking the other apprentices. “We have a long day ahead of us.”
Firepaw’s second day had consisted of an exhaustive tour of ShadowClan territory. It seemed that Tinyscar was not satisfied with simply showing him the Clan borders, no, he needed to comb over every single blade of grass in the entire territory. By the end of it, Firepaw was bored to tears and positive that he could navigate ShadowClan’s lands in his sleep. It was important information, he knew that, but was it really necessary to visit both of the twoleg junk piles, all four abandoned badger sets, and, perhaps worst of all, the Turtle Stones? Firepaw immediately decided that the Turtle Stones had to be the least exciting place in all of ShadowClan. Tinyscar had taken him there to show him the strange, slow moving creatures called ‘turtles’ that liked to lay out in the sun and looked like weird rocks with legs. Firepaw had almost been interested until Tinyscar told him that they weren’t prey. Apparently they really were just like rocks, with a shell impossible for any animal to crack. Boooorinnnggg.
After the tour had finally concluded, Firepaw had assumed he’d be done for the day, but no, Tinyscar made him run the entire length of the border with ThunderClan and then climb the Boulder Pile near Highstones five times before finally taking him back to camp. By the time they’d returned, it was sunset, and Firepaw was exhausted, sore, and cranky. He had no trouble sleeping that night.
Over the next few days, Firepaw discovered that Tinyscar’s method of training followed a very specific routine: up at dawn, run the length of the ThunderClan border, climb the Boulder Pile five times, then return to camp to eat. Then it was back out for hunting training (Tinyscar wouldn’t even let him try to catch anything until he’d perfected his crouch for both the long pounce and the short pounce), and finally, the day finished off with whatever chores needed doing around camp. On the fourth day, when Tinyscar had ended training mercifully early, Firepaw finally got the chance to spend the evening getting to know the other apprentices and catch up with his siblings. But when he attempted to commiserate with them over training, he learned that his experience was not a shared one.
“You mean he makes you run the ThunderClan border every day?” Lilypaw coughed, choking on a bite of the bird she’d been eating.
“Sounds to me like your mentor has bees in his brain,” Dustpaw snorted. “Tangleburr has never made me do that.”
“Russetfur neither,” Ashpaw chimed in. “Honestly, it sounds kind of pointless. Doesn’t that just tire you out before battle training?”
“Er, I haven’t started battle training yet,” Firepaw responded, his ears going hot.
“You haven’t started battle training yet?” Leafpaw gasped in shock. “Clawface started me yesterday, after I managed to show him a satisfactory hunting crouch. See?” She showed off the shallow scratch healing on her shoulder proudly.
“Oh, Flintfang hasn’t started me on battle training either,” Mistpaw said, sounding rather shy. “He says that I’m still very young, and we can wait until I feel ready.”
“Yeah, and when will that be? When badgers sprout wings and fly?” WIldpaw teased. “I’ve been doing battle training since the first day,” Wildpaw boasted. “I’m gonna be a warrior long before any of you.”
“You cocky little scrap!” Ashpaw growled playfully, dropping gracefully into a fighting stance. “I bet you couldn’t land a single blow on me!”
“Bet I could!”
“Could not!”
With that, the conversation shifted away from Tinyscar’s odd methods of training, the other apprentices clearly more interested in boasting about which of them was the toughest. But Ashpaw’s words still echoed in Firepaw’s mind: “Honestly, it sounds kind of pointless.” She was right. Why was Tinyscar making him go on these weird runs and climb the Boulder Pile again and again? Was he going to fall behind the other apprentices?
The next morning, after the border run and on the way to the Boulder Pile, Firepaw mustered the courage to ask Tinyscar. “Why are you making me do this?” He meowed. “None of the other apprentices have to… shouldn’t I be doing battle training? Or something more useful?”
Tinyscar answered without bothering to turn to look at him. “There’s no point yet. You’re not ready.”
Firepaw felt a flash of anger. Did Tinyscar think he was weak? Sure, he wouldn’t have been ready for battle training on day one, but that didn’t mean he never wanted to learn! He would prove that he was ready. Firepaw dropped into his hunting crouch, bunching his muscles before leaping at his mentor, claws extended. Tinyscar whipped around, simply swatting him out of the way with one extended paw. “I said you’re not ready. There’s no point in training you to fight yet. See how easily you tire? How weak your pounce was? You wouldn’t be able to fight a kit in this state,” he growled. “I don’t care what the other apprentices are doing. I’m your mentor. Battle moves mean nothing if your body lacks the strength and stamina to execute them properly. First you grow strong enough to fight, then you learn how to fight. That’s how you survive.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?” Firepaw exploded. “You can’t expect me to just run around day in and day out, not knowing the reason why! Its not fair! You must’ve known I would ask at some point!”
Tinyscar’s pelt bristled with fury, and then lay flat. He let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. I’m not… the best at communicating with other cats. But believe me when I tell you, everything I do, I’m doing to keep you alive. ShadowClan is a harsh place.”
“You say that like you’re not a ShadowClan cat.” Firepaw grumbled.
Tinyscar flinched. “This isn’t the time for jokes, Firepaw. This is serious. Not all apprentices survive training. Many of my friends didn’t. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
Firepaw felt a chill run down his spine. He remembered Badgerfang’s battered body, laid out in the camp’s clearing. If even he wasn’t strong enough to become a warrior, how could I be? The possibility of death was suddenly very real to him. “Do you think I’m… going to survive?” He mewed, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I do.” Tinyscar meowed confidently. “I wouldn’t have asked to train you if I believed you were going to die. You have the potential to make it. But if you want to survive, you’re going to have to work with me, not against me. And that means doing these runs and climbing the Boulder Pile every day. Without complaint.”
“I understand.” Firepaw responded. “I won’t let you down.”
___
By Firepaw’s tenth day of training, he began to notice changes, albeit small, in himself. His muscles no longer screamed at him to stop on the second climb up the Boulder Pile, and he only had to stop and walk two times instead of three while running the length of the ThunderClan border. It was gradual, but he was growing stronger, he could feel it. On the eleventh day, there was another surprise in store for him. When he’d finished Tinyscar’s routine exercises, his mentor told him to return to camp and get some rest.
“You’ll need it,” he’d said. “We’re going to begin your battle training at dusk.”
Firepaw had felt an electric thrill run through his body, nose to tail tip. He’d stayed quiet and done as Tinyscar said since their argument a quarter-moon ago, but he still desperately wanted to begin his battle training. Every evening, Leafpaw and Wildpaw had new, impressive moves to show off that they’d learned in training, and bloody wounds to match. Firepaw wasn’t eager to begin accumulating the scars that his siblings seemed so proud to bear, but he still didn’t want to fall behind his littermates. Two sunrises ago, even Mistpaw had announced that she was starting her battle training with Flintfang, claiming that she finally felt ready to learn just a little bit. Though, the gentle molly came home suspiciously free of injuries, so Firepaw wasn’t sure whether or not she was actually training.
“Yes!” Firepaw crowed. “Finally! Thank you, Tinyscar! Does this mean you’ve deemed me ready to fight?”
“Ready to fight?” Tinyscar scoffed, playfully shoving his apprentice. “You’ve barely reached the starting line, kit. This is where the real work begins. I won’t go easy on you.”
Despite his mentor’s warning, Firepaw returned to camp with a spring in his step, eager for sunset to come. He spent the early afternoon clearing out the old bedding from the nursery on Blackfoot’s instruction, and when he was finished, he was allowed to rest until Tinyscar came from him. Firepaw thought he’d be too excited to sleep, but he managed to nap for a short while. When he awoke, the sun was just beginning to dip low over the horizon. Tinyscar would be here soon. Firepaw made a quick meal of a small frog sitting at the base of the fresh kill pile, hoping to give himself some extra energy for his very first session of battle training. Just as he was licking the remains of the frog from around his mouth, Tinyscar’s head appeared through the bracken tunnel. Firepaw sprang to his paws, bounding forward to greet his mentor with a happy chirp.
“You look well rested,” Tinyscar commented. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes!” Firepaw squeaked. “I mean, yes, Tinyscar. Thank you for agreeing to train me.” He amended, calming himself enough to remember his manners.
With an amused shake of his head, Tinyscar turned on his heel, leading Firepaw out of camp and to ShadowClan’s training grounds.
Firepaw had seen the mossy clearing that served as one of ShadowClan’s three primary training spots on his tour of the territory, but he hadn’t been back since. Tinyscar had him practice stalking either in the Mire if he was in a particularly bad mood, or in the packed-dirt clearing near the Burnt Sycamore if he wasn’t. When Firepaw had asked why they didn’t practice here, Tinyscar had responded that the moss would cushion his pawsteps, making stalking seem much easier than it actually was. “Besides,” he’d explained, “the clearing is a popular spot. I don’t want you getting distracted by your friends.”
Though there were no cats present now, Tinyscar had clearly been telling the truth about it being a popular spot. There were numerous spots where the soft moss had been torn away from the ground by fighting cats, and Firepaw swore he could spy blood spattered on the boulder at the far end of the clearing. He shivered, wondering if the blood was from one of his friends. Would his own blood join it, before the day was out?
“So.” Tinyscar started, sitting comfortably in the middle of the clearing with his tail curled elegantly around his paws, “I’ve never trained another cat before, so I’m not sure exactly how to do this… but I suppose we should start with what comes naturally to you. Show me, what do you think the best way to attack an enemy head on is?”
Firepaw instantly reared up on his hind legs, swinging his front paws with claws extended, using his shoulders to power the blow like he’d heard Wildpaw mention during one of their evening conversations. He dropped back to all fours, waiting patiently for Tinyscar’s assessment. His mentor was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not,” Tinyscar meowed. “I can see why you’d think that was a good way to attack—you certainly can get a lot of power behind your blows. In fact, many ThunderClan warriors do fight that way. But you also unbalance yourself and expose your belly. It’s a reckless way to fight, but it can work for some larger warriors. At your size, you won’t beat any cat in a contest of brute strength. Attacking like that, it’ll be all too easy for them to knock you onto your back, and then you’ll really be in trouble,” Tinyscar explained. “Instead, you want to prioritize protecting your belly and keeping your balance. Crouch down like this, keeping your belly low to the ground and your muscles tensed. Then, lash out with one of your front paws at your opponent. Your attack won’t be as powerful, but you’ll be a lot safer.”
Firepaw mirrored his mentor’s low crouch, copying the paw lash that he’d demonstrated. Tinyscar was right. It wasn’t as powerful as the attack he’d tried before, but Firepaw felt significantly more in control of his movements. His thoughts briefly drifted to his kithood play fights with his siblings. Leafpaw and Wildpaw had always been able to knock him over when he tried to attack. If I’d fought like this back then, I don’t think they’d have been able to tumble me so easily.
Tinyscar seemed pleased with Firepaw’s crouch. “That’s good, you’re picking this up quickly. Tuck your back legs under your body a bit more, it’ll give you more power if you need to spring forward.” Firepaw adjusted to his mentor’s instructions, looking to Tinyscar for approval. His mentor dipped his head in a single, silent nod. “Very well done. Now, I’m going to come at you and try to knock you over. You try to keep your balance in the position that I showed you.”
Firepaw readied himself, muscles tensed in preparation for his mentor’s attack. Tinyscar sprang at him, paws extended and head tucked. Firepaw flattened himself to the ground, ducking under his mentor’s lunge. He heard Tinyscar land neatly behind him. “Good! Make your opponent wear themselves out with their fancy attacks. Make them work to hit you! You’ll have the stamina to outlast them, and when your enemy gets tired, they make mistakes.”
Firepaw felt his pelt warm at the praise, but before he could open his mouth to respond, Tinyscar continued speaking. “But you made one fatal error. Never leave your back turned to an opponent.” Firepaw felt Tinyscar’s jaws close around his extended tail, yanking him backwards. Firepaw tried to turn to face his mentor, to counter this unexpected attack, but with his tail anchored in Tinyscar’s jaws his lunges were useless. There was a moment of dread as he realized that he’d abandoned the crouch Tinyscar had shown him while trying to free himself. No longer was he safe, low to the ground where he could keep his balance. Tinyscar released his tail and snuck a paw under his side, flipping Firepaw over onto his back, leaving his soft belly exposed. Tinyscar reared up on his hind legs, apparently willing to be more reckless with his opponent in such a vulnerable state, bearing down on Firepaw with the strength of a full-grown warrior. Firepaw squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the awful sensation of his mentor’s sharp claws tearing into his belly. But the pain never came. Firepaw opened his eyes in shock, wondering if Tinyscar had somehow disappeared. But no, the small tom still stood over him, his paws on either side of Firepaw’s head.
“You… you didn’t claw me?” Firepaw meowed thoroughly confused.
Tinyscar looked at him as though he’d grown another head. “Did you want me to slice you open?” He retorted.
“N-no, of course not!” Firepaw hurriedly responded. “Its just, I thought that you’d claw me to punish me for my mistake. So that I won’t do it again next time. That’s what Leafpaw and Wildpaw’s mentors do.”
“Brokenstar and Clawface might think pain is the best way to learn from your mistakes, but I don’t,” Tinyscar spat. “All you learn that way is to never try anything you can’t do perfectly. What good does it do either of us for you to get hurt during practice? If I wanted to tear an untrained apprentice to bits, I could. I don’t need to prove it by hurting you. And I certainly don’t need my apprentice sustaining wounds he doesn’t need to bear before his first real battle.”
“Y-you mean you aren’t going to fight me with claws unsheathed? Not ever?” Firepaw sputtered.
“There’d be no point,” Tinyscar growled. “I’m here to teach you, not to fight you as though you’re my enemy.”
“But the other mentors—”
“I told you before, I don’t care what the other mentors do. They can rip their apprentices to shreds if it makes them feel better, but you’re my apprentice, and I won’t train you that way.” Tinyscar said firmly.
Firepaw’s head was reeling. Tinyscar wasn’t… going to hurt him? The things he’d said made sense, but it was so at odds with the way the other apprentices described their training. Except Mistpaw, Firepaw realized with a start. His sister had said she’d started battle training, but it had been hard to believe her with her lack of injuries. Could it be that Flintfang was training her the same way Tinyscar was training Firepaw?
Tinyscar removed his paws from either side of Firepaw’s head, backing up to let the apprentice free from the hold he’d been pinned in. “I think this is good enough for your first day,” Tinyscar meowed. “We’ll head back to camp in a moment.” His expression hardened. “And Firepaw? You must never speak of this to any cat. Brokenstar doesn’t approve of training apprentices like this. He can never find out. In fact, we should tear a few tufts of fur from your pelt to make it look convincing.”
Firepaw said nothing as his mentor gently teased a few chunks of fur free from Firepaw’s pelt. The bare skin stung a bit, but Firepaw barely noticed it. Tinyscar was asking him to keep a secret from his leader. The Clan leader’s word was law. If Brokenstar didn’t want apprentices being trained this way, then Tinyscar was breaking the Warrior Code by going behind his back. And, by association, Firepaw was as well. What his mentor was asking him to do was… treason.
Notes:
Let me know what you thought! Hearing your feedback motivates me to write.
Chapter 8: Chapter 6
Notes:
TW for this chapter: public humiliation, verbal abuse, physical abuse
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Firepaw awoke the following morning to a jab in his side and Tinyscar standing over him with a frown plastered across his usually unreadable face, Firepaw knew something was wrong. Tinyscar hadn’t come to wake Firepaw himself since their second day of training, he’d made it very clear that if Firepaw wanted to learn, he would have to be up and ready to go at dawn.
Firepaw sprang to his feet. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been a change of plans. We won’t be doing our usual training today,” he meowed flatly, backing out of the den. “Brokenstar has decided to personally assess the apprentices today. That includes you.”
Firepaw felt a thrill of nervous excitement at his mentor’s words. He got the feeling that Tinyscar didn’t like Brokenstar very much, but that had nothing to do with him. This was his chance to impress the Clan leader! Maybe if Firepaw could prove that he was just as strong as all of the other apprentices, Brokenstar wouldn’t be angry if he found out that Tinyscar had been training him differently. Firepaw gave his sleep-mussed fur a few quick licks, realizing that he was the only apprentice left in the den. I can’t keep my leader waiting!
Firepaw dashed out into the clearing, where Brokenstar sat surrounded by all of the ShadowClan apprentices. He was in the middle of regaling them with a tale of a vicious battle against WindClan.
“What happened then Brokenstar? Did you make Tallstar pay?” Harepaw asked, his eyes alight with bloodlust.
“Well, I certainly tried!” Brokenstar meowed. “I sunk my claws deep into his throat and watched as he bled out one of his nine lives beneath my paws. I’ll not rest until I’ve taken all nine of his lives. Only then will Raggedstar’s death be truly avenged.”
Firepaw crept quietly forward to join the group, sitting next to his siblings. “You’re late, frog-brain!” Leafpaw whispered. “We’ve been waiting for ages!”
“And you’re a mess! You’ve got fur sticking up everywhere.” Mistpaw cut in, leaning forward to groom down the messy parts that Firepaw had apparently missed.
After a moment, Wildpaw took notice of his brother’s presence, and spoke up, interrupting a question from Lilypaw. “Brokenstar! Firepaw’s finally here. Can we go now? Please? I want to show off everything I’ve learned from you!”
“Of course,” Brokenstar purred, his disinterested yellow gaze sliding over Firepaw. “Let’s get moving.”
The patrol followed Brokenstar out of camp as he led them onwards to the training grounds of his choice. Aside from the apprentices, Firepaw noticed a few warriors in the group, though Tinyscar and Flintfang were nowhere to be found. I guess not all of the mentors are coming. While Wildpaw plowed ahead to walk beside Brokenstar, eagerly chattering to his mentor about the battle story from earlier, Firepaw found himself naturally gravitating towards the back of the patrol. As the initial thrill over getting to show off for Brokenstar faded, worry set in. Firepaw had only had a single session of battle training so far. Even Mistpaw was more experienced than he was. Would he really be okay?
“Nervous?” A soft mew to his right asked. Marigoldpaw. The fluffy tortoiseshell had a round, friendly face that instantly put Firepaw at ease.
“A little,” he admitted. “I only just started my battle training yesterday. I’m worried I’ll embarrass myself.”
“No one expects you to be perfect,” Marigoldpaw purred reassuringly. “My first assessment with Brokenstar happened the same day I became an apprentice. I was so nervous! But it turned out alright for me, and it will for you, too. Try not to worry so much. It’ll be over soon.”
Firepaw let Marigoldpaw’s words soothe him, relaxing his tense muscles as they arrived at the training grounds by the Burnt Sycamore. It wasn’t the same place Firepaw had practiced yesterday, but he’d been to this place a few times before, when Tinyscar wanted him to practice stalking somewhere other than the Mire. The cats of the patrol spread out to ring the clearing, leaving plenty of space for the apprentices to scuffle. Brokenstar sprang up to a low-hanging tree branch just beside the clearing, settling in to watch the training session.
“Today, I will be assessing your progress in battle training.” Brokenstar meowed. “Each of you will have the opportunity to prove yourselves against one or more of the other apprentices. Fight well, and make ShadowClan proud! To start with, let’s have… yes, Wildpaw and Marigoldpaw.”
Wildpaw’s up first! Is he nervous? Firepaw scanned his brother’s face for any signs of fear, but found only eagerness in his expression. The two apprentices took their places on either side of the clearing, muscles tensed, waiting for Brokenstar’s signal to begin.
Before Brokenstar had even finished yowling for them to start the fight, Wildpaw was flying forward, claws extended. Marigoldpaw, who’d clearly been preparing to go easy on the new apprentice, hardly had time to react before Wildpaw’s claws raked across her face, leaving a deep set of gashes. The tortoiseshell molly howled in pain, shaking her head from side to side as she sprang back to avoid Wildpaw’s next blow. Wildpaw, clearly eager to prove himself further, pursued her, but Marigoldpaw would not be caught off guard so easily again. Her ears pinned back in fury, Marigoldpaw extended an unsheathed paw to swipe at Wildpaw’s advance. Wildpaw let out a hiss of annoyance, and Firepaw caught a glimpse of red blood dripping from his brother’s front leg. The two apprentices circled each other, hissing, waiting for an opening to strike.
“Get on with it!” Brokenstar roared. “Are you mice or cats? I said fight!”
Brokenstar’s yowl was enough to make Wildpaw flinch, if only for a moment. Seeing her opening, Marigoldpaw leapt at him, spitting with fury. He reared up on his hind legs to meet her, leaning into the attack with all of his might. The apprentices were momentary locked in a grappling match, each trying to bowl the other over. As the older apprentice, Marigoldpaw should have had the advantage, but even at just under three moons old, Wildpaw was larger than her. In a contest of strength, she never stood a chance. Wildpaw toppled his opponent, digging into her soft underside with his claws. Wildpaw had won. There was a pause as the gathered cats waited for Brokenstar to call the match, but the Clan leader remained silent, watching the violent fight eagerly.
Wildpaw looked up at his mentor quizzically. The huge tom gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Wildpaw turned his attention back to Marigoldpaw, who was still pinned beneath him. Firepaw watched in horror as his brother bit down hard on the helpless molly’s left ear, tearing off a bloody chunk and spitting it out on the packed dirt of the clearing.
As Marigoldpaw screeched in agony, Brokenstar finally called “match! Well done, Wildpaw.”
Wildpaw sheathed his claws, letting Marigoldpaw free at last.
“As for you, Marigoldpaw…” Brokenstar growled in clear disgust. “Absolutely disgraceful. You’ve been training for two moons now, and yet my apprentice, whose been training for less than a half-moon, managed to best you? Pathetic.” The massive tabby tom curled his lip to expose yellowed teeth. “What has Boulder been teaching you all this time? How to chase butterflies?”
The trembling tortoiseshell molly said nothing, lowering her head. If Firepaw strained his ears, he could just barely hear her trying to choke back whimpers.
“Well?” Brokenstar spat, his patience apparently running ever thinner, “nothing to say for yourself? Have you gone mute? Wildpaw tore off your ear, not your tongue!” When Marigoldpaw still didn’t respond, Brokenstar leapt down from his perch on the branch, angrily stalking towards Marigoldpaw. Firepaw saw him poke harshly at the apprentice with one wickedly sharp claw. “Get up, you worthless piece of crowfood!”
Firepaw felt a rush of anger course through him at Brokenstar’s words. Marigoldpaw wasn’t worthless. She was kind! She had noticed Firepaw’s anxiety earlier, and taken the time to calm him down when no other cat would. She was his friend, and Brokenstar was talking to her like she was lower than dirt. And no cat was saying anything! Even Marigoldpaw’s own mentor, Boulder, was watching the scene with grim acceptance. Would no one stand up for her? Brokenstar can’t talk to her that way! If no one else will stop him, I will!
Poppypaw caught his eye from across the clearing. He saw her urgently shaking her head, as if she could sense what he was about to do and was silently begging him not to. Firepaw averted his gaze, and stepped forward into the clearing. “She’s not worthless!” He meowed with conviction.
Brokenstar’s head snapped up, his interest in belittling Marigoldpaw forgotten. “Are you talking back to your leader?” Brokenstar roared, stalking over to stand toe to toe with Firepaw.
With Brokenstar towering over him, Firepaw’s confidence withered away in a heartbeat. His ears folded back, and his legs felt weak, but he forced himself not to cower. “I…I just meant that Marigoldpaw only lost because she was trying to go easy on Wildpaw. Because he’s a new apprentice.” From the corner of his eye, Firepaw could see Wildpaw bristling with anger at the suggestion that he’d only won because Marigoldpaw had let him. He was surely going to be angry at Firepaw later, but right now, that didn’t matter. With Brokenstar’s attention drawn away from Marigoldpaw, Boulder was finally able to dart forward and coax his apprentice up and off of the training grounds. Firepaw had succeeded in ending Marigoldpaw’s harassment, and if Wildpaw’s ire was the price he had to pay, so be it.
“Do you think that she was right to coddle him?” Brokenstar yowled, drawing back to address the crowd. “This is exactly the kind of weakness I’ve tried to purge from ShadowClan for moons! The other Clans speak of mercy, willing to roll over and show their bellies to their foes at the first sight of blood! That is not the way of ShadowClan! Here, we are strong. We are true warriors!” Brokenstar turned back to Firepaw, fixing his maniacal yellow gaze on the young tom. “It appears you need to have that fact beaten into you. I was going to give Marigoldpaw another chance to prove herself worthy, but that will have to wait. The next match will be Firepaw versus Harepaw!”
Firepaw’s stomach churned, as the tall, leggy tom stepped forward uncertainly. Harepaw was one of ShadowClan’s oldest apprentices—he’d been training since well before Firepaw was kitted, and even the warriors spoke of his agility and skill in battle, expecting him to join their ranks soon. Firepaw didn’t stand a chance against him. It was like setting a mouse against a fox. But if Firepaw backed down from this fight, there was no telling what Brokenstar would do. Firepaw dropped into a low crouch, just like Tinyscar had shown him, and prepared himself for the inevitable.
Brokenstar clawed his way back up the branch, his eyes eagerly trained on the clearing. Before he’d even properly settled into his perch, he was already shouting for the match to start. At Brokenstar’s word, Harepaw shot forward, claws extended. Firepaw flattened himself to the ground, lashing out with one paw, trying desperately to use the only move he knew to his advantage. He succeeded in stopping Harepaw’s charge, but his claws felt nothing but air as Harepaw nimbly dodged his strike. For a brief moment, Firepaw could swear he saw sorrow in the other apprentice’s eyes, but then Harepaw leapt again and the moment had passed. Firepaw heard Harepaw land behind him, and remembered Tinyscar’s lesson from yesterday. Never turn your back on an opponent. But knowing something and acting on it were two different things, and even as Firepaw whipped around as fast as he could, he knew he would be too slow.
Harepaw’s front paws slammed down on Firepaw’s shoulders, crushing him to the ground and knocking the air from his lungs. Firepaw heard something inside of his body snap in a horrifying way, but he didn’t have the chance to dwell on it because Harepaw’s claws were digging deep into his back. Harepaw raked his claws down the length of Firepaw’s spine, cutting deep into his flesh. Firepaw howled in agony, white-hot pain ripping through him. He took another hard blow to the side of his head, there was a brief flash of white, and then Firepaw’s whole world went dark.
Notes:
This is not a happy chapter. I wish I could say this is the last incident of this nature, but unfortunately, this is ShadowClan under Brokenstar. Things are ultimately going to get worse before they get better. It's not all going to be dark and depressing moments like this, though. One of the things that I'm really trying to communicate in this story is the dichotomy of Firepaw's experiences in ShadowClan. On the one hand, he does have cats that genuinely love and value him. There are moments when what ShadowClan SHOULD be seep through. But on the other hand, you have Brokenstar and his followers curating this incredibly abusive experience for all cats involved. It has to be bad enough that it eventually prompts extreme change, but there still have to be enough hints of good that ShadowClan is something worth saving rather than abandoning.
Let me know what you think! Your comments inspire me.
Chapter Text
Firepaw was drifting. He felt weightless, as though he could simply float away from the burning pain that wracked his body. And why shouldn’t I? At the back of his mind, he knew there was some reason to hold onto his pain, hold on to reality. Something he wanted to protect…? But such thoughts felt too complicated for Firepaw’s exhausted mind, and he pushed them aside, allowing the tide of unconsciousness to sweep him away.
When Firepaw’s senses began to return, he got the sense that he was pressed up against a warm belly, with writhing bodies pressing close on either side of him. The familiar scent of his siblings flooded his nostrils, and Firepaw let out a content purr. The pain from his battle with Harepaw seemed distant now. Instead, he was a kit in the nursery, tucked into his mother’s body, safe from harm. Firepaw nuzzled in closer to the warm belly in search of a nipple to latch onto. Fernshade always had plenty of milk… except, the scent coming from this queen wasn’t Fernshade’s. Something was wrong. This cat didn’t smell like anyone from ShadowClan. And yet, Firepaw didn’t feel unsafe pressed up against this mysterious queen. Her scent wreathed around him, warm and comforting and achingly familiar in a way that made no sense. Firepaw forced himself to pull back from the queen’s belly, ignoring his urge to nurse in favor of getting a glimpse of the cat caring for him. Firepaw forced his eyes open—his eyelids gelt heavier than they ever had before, and everything seemed so bright, as if he were a newborn kit. Still, he could make out the fuzzy form of a cream, brown and ginger molly. In response to Firepaw’s shifting, the queen leaned in close to nuzzle him. As she drew close to him, he caught a glimpse of warm amber eyes. The queen’s mouth moved, as though she were trying to tell him something, but no words reached Firepaw’s ears. Despite his curiosity, Firepaw could feel his eyelids drooping again, threatening to pull him back under the warm pelt of unconsciousness. No… wait! I have to know more about this cat! Firepaw struggled against his exhaustion to no avail.
Strange cats that Firepaw had no memory of flashed through his mind. He stood before a lithe brown tabby molly, weeping over some bloody scraps of fur. At her side sat a tiny, pale ginger tabby kit, eyes wide with terror and sadness. The kit asked its mother something, but what, Firepaw couldn’t tell. It was all rather surreal—Firepaw could see the cats before him clearly, but no sound reached his ears. It was as though he was trapped underwater, or watching the scene play out from a distance, though the cats were but a few tail-lengths away from him.
The scene changed, and suddenly Firepaw was standing in ShadowClan camp. Brokenstar pushed his way through the bracken tunnel, carrying two small kits in his jaws. Firepaw squinted. Something about the kits seemed familiar. Is that… Harepaw and Ashpaw? He’d never known them when they were that small, but the colors of their pelts were unmistakable. Brokenstar dropped the two kits in front of a queen Firepaw did not recognize. The fur along the queen’s spine was bristling, and her ears folded back as she took in the sight of the two kits. She hissed something at Brokenstar that clearly upset him, because without hesitating for even a moment, the leader took one of his massive paws, slapping the queen hard across her face, unsheathed claws leaving a bloody trail. The queen backed away from Brokenstar, all signs of defiance gone. She drew Ashpaw and Harepaw in close to her chest…
“Firepaw! Firepaw!”
Far away, someone was calling for him. But who…?
“Firepaw, please wake up!”
“Hush, Mistpaw. Yellowfang says he’s going to be fine. The best thing for him now is rest.”
Something in Firepaw’s mind clicked. Mistpaw and… Fernshade? The illusion of Firepaw’s dream shattered, and he felt himself falling back into reality. Fernshade’s scent flooded his nose, chasing away the last traces of the mysterious molly from before.
With a colossal effort, he cracked open his eyes. “Oh, thank the stars!” Mistpaw cried, her wide blue eyes glistening. “I thought… I thought we’d lost you.”
“Fernshade? Mist…paw? Yellowfang? What… happened?” Firepaw wheezed.
“Hush, my sweet kit,” Fernshade whispered, lapping at his head. “You’ve been hurt. Save your strength.”
“But I… have to get back to training…” Firepaw coughed, trying to struggle to his paws. The effort sent a wave of pain through his chest, and he collapsed back into his nest.
“Careful!” Yellowfang snapped. “You shouldn’t try to move too much. You’ve cracked a rib,” she explained. “Unfortunately, there’s little we can do for that except let you rest. The rib will heal itself in time. Other than that, you were extremely lucky.”
“I don’t feel very lucky,” Firepaw groaned, the pain from the scratches down his back causing him to wince.
“Well, you were.” Yellowfang meowed brusquely. “The wounds on your back are large, but superficial. They broke skin, but didn’t tear too deeply into your muscles. The scratches might sting, but they’re far away from any of your vital organs. If any of those had been hit, even I might not have been able to save you. Who was it that did this?”
Firepaw thought back to the conflict leading up to his injury. His mind was beginning to clear up, now that the initial sting had faded, but things were still a bit foggy. “It was Harepaw,” Mistpaw cut in, her voice quiet. Right, Firepaw remembered. Harepaw. His dream from before tugged at the corners of his mind, but he ignored it. That wasn’t important right now.
“Brokenstar set Firepaw against him for speaking up in Marigoldpaw’s defense,” Mistpaw continued. “He was… bullying her. Why was he bullying her?” Her voice trembled.
“Because Brokenstar needs to push other cats around to feel strong,” Yellowfang spat, hatred twisting her expression. Firepaw felt Fernshade tense up beside him, and his own pelt prickled in turn. Can Yellowfang really talk that way about the Clan leader? “He always has.” The medicine cat relaxed, letting out a deep sigh. “That was a kind thing you did, Firepaw. Kind, but foolish. With your actions today, you’ve made yourself into a target for Brokenstar. You’d best keep your head down for a while now, no matter what he may do to provoke you.”
Firepaw felt his ears go hot. Within the space of a single morning, he’d managed to make his own Clan leader hate him. But strangely, he didn’t feel any regret for speaking up in Marigoldpaw’s defense. I know I did the right thing.
“Please, Firepaw. Listen to Yellowfang.” Fernshade murmured, as though she could sense his thoughts. “Brokenstar is a dangerous cat. I… I couldn’t bear to lose you too. Not after Badgerpaw.” Fernshade’s voice cracked on her lost son’s name. Shame flooded Firepaw’s pelt. I didn’t even consider how Fernshade would feel, seeing me hurt.
“I didn’t know he was going to react like that,” Firepaw meowed meekly. “I just… I couldn’t stand the way he was speaking to Marigoldpaw.”
“I’m grateful to you, you know.” Yellowfang meowed softly. “Marigoldpaw is my sister. Did you know that?”
Firepaw stared blankly at Yellowfang. He’d had no idea that they were even related. The soft, round faced tortoiseshell looked nothing like the medicine cat.
“She’s from a different litter than mine, of course.” Yellowfang continued. “I’m ashamed to say I haven’t spent nearly as much time getting to know her as I should’ve. I’ve been so busy with all of the injuries lately… I haven’t been much of a sister to her. You, on the other paw… you barely even know her, but you stood up to Brokenstar for her. Even cats twice your size would be hard pressed to stand up to him. You’ve got spunk, kit. You’ve got a fire in your soul that I’ve not seen before.” The medicine cat’s expression grew distant. “Yes… a fire…” The molly shook her head, her face clearing. “I’m sorry, Firepaw. Ignore this tired medicine cat’s mutterings. You must be wondering how you got here. Mistpaw and Nightpelt brought you back.”
Firepaw turned to his sister. “Thank you,” he meowed sincerely. I’m sure Brokenstar wasn’t happy that they left.
“Of course,” Mistpaw blinked. “You’re my brother, Firepaw. I hate seeing you hurt like that. I hate seeing any cat hurt.”
“You’re a kind cat, Mistpaw,” Fernshade murmured, “but you must never speak like that where the rest of the Clan can hear you.”
“Brokenstar has little patience for anything he perceives as weakness,” Yellowfang added, sending a sympathetic glance Firepaw’s way. “Your brother learned that firsthand today.”
Mistpaw’s eyes grew wide with fear, the fur along her spine prickling. “I—Of course, Yellowfang!”
“I’m sorry, kit. I didn’t wish to frighten you. Only to warn you,” Yellowfang sighed, suddenly looking seasons older. “Things weren’t always like this, you know. When Raggedstar was leader, ShadowClan was fierce, powerful, but we were also merciful. There was a place for kindness and softness, then. I wish you could’ve seen ShadowClan in those days.”
“But didn’t WindClan take advantage of Raggedstar’s mercy? Isn’t that how they killed him?” Firepaw asked.
“WindCan… yes, perhaps… Though I’ve never known Tallstar’s warriors to be the killing kind…” Yellowfang’s eyes grew distant. The conversation lapsed into silence for a few moments before a new voice called from the entrance of the den;
“Hello? Anyone in here?”
“Yes, Poppypaw,” Yellowfang called back, rolling her eyes with fake exasperation. “We’re in here. Firepaw’s awake, you can come visit him.”
“Hooray!” The medicine cat’s den suddenly felt very full as Poppypaw, Lilypaw, and Ravenpaw crowded in.
“I didn’t mean to invite the whole apprentice’s den in,” Yellowfang muttered, her eyes flitting from one cat to the next. All three apprentices bore fresh wounds, but none looked particularly bad. “Brokenstar is going to run me out of my marigold supply at this rate,” she growled. “No matter. Lilypaw, let’s take a look at you, first. That’s a nasty bite you have on your shoulder. Follow me into the back. The rest of you, wait here. I’ll see to you shortly.”
As Yellowfang disappeared deeper into the den with Lilypaw in tow, the remaining apprentices crowded close to Firepaw, still tucked into his mother’s side. “I can’t believe you spoke to Brokenstar like that!” Ravenpaw wailed. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Oh, come off it, Ravenpaw,” Poppypaw meowed. “What you did was pretty stupid, but it was also pretty brave. ‘Specially for a brand-new apprentice like you.”
“It just seemed like the right thing to do,” he mumbled.
“Well, Marigoldpaw is certainly grateful,” Poppypaw commented, “The whole rest of the time we were there she was fussing about how brave you’d been, and how kind you were, and how she’d bring your fresh kill to you special while you’re in the medicine den.”
“It’s true,” Ravenpaw sniggered. “She’s gonna be making the worst moon eyes at you after this.”
“Why, Firepaw you scoundrel! Was this all a ploy to get Marigoldpaw’s attention?” Mistpaw mewed in fake shock.
Firepaw felt Fernshade’s flank rumble with a soft purr of laughter. His ears went hot. Did they really have to say all this in front of my mother? He wanted to curl up into a ball of embarrassment and die. “I-It’s not like that!” He protested, “She was just… kind to me, before, and it didn’t seem right for Brokenstar to berate her like that.”
“We’re just giving you a hard time,” Poppypaw mewed, nudging his shoulder. When Firepaw winced with pain, she blinked apologetically. “Er, sorry. We all thought you were really brave.”
“What happened after I passed out?” Firepaw meowed, eager to move to the next topic.
“Eh, not much,” Ravenpaw shrugged. “Brokenstar called for a few more fights, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He said we could leave after we’d taken our turns fighting. The training session is still going on, but I think it’s just Ashpaw, Dustpaw, Marigoldpaw and Wildpaw left.”
“Marigoldpaw is still there?” Firepaw mewed, concerned.
“Brokenstar said she still had to fight another round to prove her worth,” Ravenpaw explained gently. “He doesn’t… let things go, and after you challenged him the way you did, well, there was no way he could let Marigoldpaw go without seeming like he was listening to you.”
“So I only made things worse,” Firepaw moaned miserably.
“No, my son,” Fernshade meowed gently. “You stood up for her when nobody else did. Marigoldpaw won’t forget that, whatever Brokenstar makes her do next.”
“Besides,” Poppypaw added, “I think Brokenstar was going to pick on Marigoldpaw regardless. At least with you standing up for her, she got a break between fights.”
“Poppypaw!” Yellowfang’s voice rang out from farther back in the den. “I’m done seeing to Lilypaw. You’re next!”
“Coming auntie!” Poppypaw called over her shoulder.
As Poppypaw disappeared into the back of the den, her sister emerged, shoulder swathed in cobwebs. Firepaw hadn’t spoken to Lilypaw much, but she gave him an approving nod as she passed by his nest on her way out. Not long after, Ravenpaw rose to his feet.
For a time, Firepaw was left with just Mistpaw, Fernshade and Ravenpaw. His sister settled into the curve of their mother’s warm pelt alongside Firepaw, purring softly. Ravenpaw shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking very out of place, until Fernshade waved her fluffy tail invitingly. Ravenpaw stepped forward somewhat stiffly, curling up alongside Firepaw’s back.
With the warmth of his family and friend around him, and Fernshade’s gentle tongue beginning to lap soothing strokes over the fur on his head, Firepaw felt himself drift back into a restful slumber.
____
Firepaw was wrenched from his comfortable sleep as a pained wail split the quiet. Fernshade was already awake beside him, her muscles taught. Mistpaw trembled against his pelt, her gray fur standing on end. He caught a glimpse of Ravenpaw’s tail disappearing out of the den.
“No! Please, StarClan, no!”
“Where is Yellowfang?” That was Brokenstar. “What good is she if she can’t be found when she’s needed?” He sounded mildly annoyed.
“I’m here!” Yellowfang called rushing past Firepaw and out of the den, a bundle of cobwebs and marigold held tight in her jaws.
Firepaw struggled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest. He had to know what was going on. He took one stumbling step forward before Fernshade was there, blocking the entrance of the den. “You don’t need to see this, Firepaw. Please, lay back down.”
Firepaw’s blood ran cold. “Why? What’s happened? How do you even know? You’ve been in here with me the whole time!”
Fernshade did not reply, only shut her eyes tight.
“Please, Yellowfang! You have to save her!” A hysterical screech from outside made Fernshade flinch, distracting her just long enough for Firepaw to slip under her legs and out into the open.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, Firepaw saw Yellowfang rising slowly from beside a limp, bloody body, her shoulders sagging. “It’s too late,” the medicine cat meowed sadly. “She’s already gone.”
“No!” The wailing cat from before, who Firepaw now recognized as Brightflower, shot forward, collapsing against the dead cat’s bloody pelt. “No, no no!” She repeated. “Not my kit, my last kit, please no!”
Firepaw felt his world screech to a halt. The cat lying dead in the clearing was Marigoldpaw.
Notes:
Hey wow surprise! I'm updating this fic after almost a year! I started writing this chapter last July, and I just couldn't get it how I wanted. Then I got a job that I hated and took all my energy, quit that, and got ANOTHER job that took all my energy. But now, I've finally got a job I like, and I've found the energy to write again. I still don't really like how this chapter came out, I'm not great with dialogue, but I figured the best thing to do at this point was just to finish it up and move on, because I know where I want to go from here. Can't promise a regular update schedule because of work, but I'll try to update at least once a month. Hope you enjoy the chapter well enough! If you have the time to leave a review, it would really motivate me to write more!
Chapter 10: Chapter 8
Notes:
I wish I could say this story is going to get happier soon, but it won't, not until we hit book 2. That being said, there WILL be some lighter moments coming up within a few chapters.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The silence in the ShadowClan camp was deafening, broken only by the heartwrenching sobs of Brightflower mourning her dead kit. The rest of the Clan looked on, expressions filled with a range of emotions— regret, anger, pity, sorrow… Firepaw briefly wondered what emotion played across his face as he stood there at the entrance of the medicine cat’s den, unable to move. This is all my fault. A soft touch on his shoulder made him jump, which in turn made him wince with pain. Fernshade drew him close to her chest wordlessly, her presence offering more comfort than any phrase.
The entrance to the camp rustled, stirring the Clan out of its reverie. A broad-faced cream and brown molly’s face appeared, quickly taking in the situation. Rowanberry, Firepaw thought distantly. She’s… Yellowfang’s sister. Which makes her Marigoldpaw’s sister as well. The molly’s expression went from shock, to grief, to a sad acceptance in a matter of heartbeats. At once, she rushed forward to Brightflower’s side, the grieving queen still trying desperately to find any sign of life in her kit. “Come, mother,” she meowed gently, “let’s get you back to the elder’s den while Yellowfang tends to Marigoldpaw.”
“No!” Brightflower protested. “I have to—I have to stay with her! I can’t leave her alone, not like this!”
“She won’t be alone,” Rowanberry soothed, “She’ll be with Yellowfang. Her sister. Yellowfang will look after her, I promise.” With that, she gently ushered her still-sobbing mother out of the clearing, into the privacy of the elder’s den.
“Marigoldpaw’s death is a tragedy to us all,” Brokenstar meowed sorrowfully, addressing the Clan as Brightflower and Rowanberry disappeared into the elder’s den. “Such a bright young cat, with such promise… to lose her like this is unthinkable.”
Firepaw had to bite his tongue to keep from howling with rage. How dare Brokenstar stand there and pretend to care for Marigoldpaw after his relentless tormenting earlier in the day. “I didn’t realize the wounds she had sustained were so deep,” Brokenstar continued, voice thick with emotion. “I tried to get her back to camp as quickly as I could the moment I noticed and yet… I fear ShadowClan has lost another bright young cat. I have let you all down.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Brokenstar,” Tangleburr meowed sympathetically. “Training accidents happen. The real blame lies with the cat that keeps allowing such accidents to end in fatalities.”
Yellowfang’s fur bristled with fury and her eyes blazed. “Just what are you implying?” She growled.
“I am sure Yellowfang is doing her best, Tangleburr,” Brokenstar reassured, shifting his gaze to the grizzled gray medicine cat. “And yet, loathe as I am to admit it, she does have a point,” he meowed regretfully. “What good is a medicine cat who cannot save her patients? How am I to entrust ShadowClan’s health and safety to you when you prove time and time again that you are not up to task?” Firepaw was horrified to see a number of ShadowClan cats nodding their agreement. How can they blame this on Yellowfang?
“I am as skilled as any medicine cat in the forest!” Yellowfang roared. “I’ve been healing hurts since long before you were even kitted! All the experience in the forest does me no good when you only ever bring me cats beyond saving! I could be Moth Flight herself, and I still wouldn’t be able to bring back cats who are already dead!”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant. My duty as leader is to prepare ShadowClan cats for the harsh reality of battle, to help them grow as strong as possible. Your duty is to keep those cats alive.” Brokenstar’s yellow eyes were cold with disdain. “A task you have been failing far too often as of late. You contribute nothing to this Clan, yet you leech our resources and grow fat off our prey. That ends now. From this day forward, you, Yellowfang, will no longer be permitted to your share of fresh kill until all of the warriors and apprentices have eaten first.”
“What?!” Yellowfang screeched, her fur standing on end. “Do you mean to starve me out of this Clan? You blind, bloody fool! You’ll bring us all to ruin!”
Brokenstar drew himself up to his full height, staring down his muzzle at Yellowfang. “I will excuse your words this once, for I know you are upset. But you would do well to remember that I am ShadowClan’s leader in the future. Not you. Now, tend to this poor apprentice so that she is presentable for burial,” he nudged Marigoldpaw’s lifeless body with one paw. “It’s the least you can do after failing to save her.” With that, Brokenstar stalked out of camp, and the Clan separated into small groups, discussing the latest turn of events in hushed whispers. Firepaw remained frozen to the spot, trying to process everything that had just happened. It felt far too soon when Fernshade drew away from him with a gentle nuzzle.
“Will you be alright here by yourself for a little while?” She asked. “I want to go see Brightflower. I know how hard it is to lose a kit.”
“I’ll be alright,” Firepaw murmured, though his heart wasn’t in it. Some part of him wanted to be selfish, to beg Fernshade to stay here with him and tell him that it was going to be alright, that Marigoldpaw’s death wasn’t his fault. But he pushed those feelings down. Brightflower needed the support of her Clanmates more than he needed his mother, right now.
“I’ll be back soon,” Fernshade promised, bounding across the clearing to the elder’s den.
Firepaw remained where he stood for a few more moments, unable to tear his gaze away from Marigoldpaw’s body. “It’ll be over soon,” she’d told him that very morning. “Nobody expects you to be perfect.” A wave of nausea threatened to knock Firepaw off his feet. He turned around, stumbling back into the den before collapsing into his nest. Barely a heartbeat had passed before Wildpaw appeared at the entrance of the medicine den, limping heavily and sporting a number of new injuries. Firepaw watched his brother warily, remembering how Wildpaw had tore into Marigoldpaw’s ear earlier that morning. He’s changed.
“Hey Firepaw,” Wildpaw mewed cordially. “Do you think Yellowfang will have the time to treat my wounds before she takes care of Marigoldpaw? Marigoldpaw really did a number on me during our second fight.”
Firepaw had thought he couldn’t feel any worse, but he’d been wrong. “Your second fight? Did… did you kill Marigoldpaw?”
Wildpaw flattened his ears to his skull, not meeting Firepaw’s gaze. “I only did what Brokenstar told me to do,” he responded vaguely.
“You’re a murderer,” Firepaw hissed. “She trying to help you, and you killed her.”
“Do you think I wanted to hurt her?” Wildpaw exploded. “This is your fault, Firepaw. If you hadn’t opened your mouth, everything would’ve been fine! But no, everything has to be about you all the time! Did you stop to consider what Brokenstar would do to us? To me? You made me look weak when you said Marigoldpaw went easy on me! Brokenstar doesn’t tolerate weakness! After the other apprentices finished sparring, do you know what he did? He told Marigoldpaw and I to fight until one of us collapsed. It was me or her! I did what I had to do!”
“Wildpaw, I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“You never do!” Wildpaw howled. “You never think about what anyone else is going through! You think you can judge me for doing what I need to do to survive? To become a warrior? Well, you can’t!” Wildpaw whipped around and stomped back out of the den. Firepaw didn’t try to stop him, didn’t try to follow him. What could he say? Wildpaw was right. “Your fault, your fault, your fault,” echoed in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the world.
“Firepaw.” Firepaw’s eyes jolted back open at the unexpected voice. His mentor was standing over him, something unreadable in his eyes.
“Tinyscar? Where were—”
“Come with me. We need to talk.” Tinyscar cut him off, barely waiting for Firepaw to struggle to his feet before stalking out into camp.
Firepaw followed Tinyscar out of the camp and down a number of twisting prey-trails until they reached a glade of trees Firepaw had never seen before. I guess there are still parts of ShadowClan territory I haven’t seen yet. When Tinyscar finally stopped moving, Firepaw sat down hard, gasping for breath against the pain in his chest. Tinyscar wrapped his tail neatly over his paws, giving the apprentice a moment to catch his breath. When at last Firepaw’s breathing had become less labored, he spoke. “Just what were you trying to accomplish with that stunt today?” He meowed coldly.
Firepaw ducked his head under his mentor’s piercing gaze. “I-I was only trying to help Marigoldpaw…” He mewed weakly.
“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Tinyscar hissed. “Be grateful that it was her instead of you.”
Firepaw gaped at Tinyscar, struggling to find the words to respond. “Be grateful—I—Tinyscar, I got another cat killed today!”
“A cat that just as easily could have been you,” Tinyscar growled. “This isn’t a game, Firepaw. Cats die in ShadowClan training. Many of my friends did. Many of your friends will. There is only one way you survive ShadowClan training: keep your head down, stay out of Brokenstar’s way, and concern yourself only with your own survival.”
“Only myself? But—but we’re a Clan,” Firepaw whimpered, “We’re supposed to help each other, to protect each other. Darkflower says that’s what makes us different from rogues.”
Tinyscar narrowed his eyes. “That’s a story for naïve kits. In ShadowClan, it’s every cat for themselves. That’s the only way to make it.”
“It was me or her! I did what I had to do!” Wildpaw’s words echoed in Firepaw’s ears.
“But that seems… wrong.” Firepaw protested.
“You’re very young, Firepaw” Tinyscar sighed, “but you need to kill the kit in your heart if you want to survive. Right and wrong don’t matter here. Good and bad don’t matter here. Only survival matters. There is nothing you can do to help the other apprentices. They will live or die by their own merits, and believe me, some of them will die. If you let yourself care about them, it will only hurt more when they go.”
The faces of the cats he loved appeared in Firepaw’s mind. His siblings, his mothers, Ravenpaw and Poppypaw… the nights spent with the other apprentices outside of their den, talking about training and sharing prey. Do all of them care only about themselves, too? Firepaw knew immediately that it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. “I-I can’t live like that!” Firepaw choked, tears filling his eyes. “Thinking only of my own survival, day in and day out, never letting myself care about anyone else.”
“You have to try.” Tinyscar growled. “It’s the only way.”
Firepaw felt a flash of anger, “Why does it even matter to you? If its every cat for themselves here, why bother trying to keep me alive?”
“I’m your mentor,” Tinyscar looked away. “It’s my job.”
“You chose to be my mentor!” Firepaw growled. “You didn’t have to! You could’ve left me to whichever cat Brokenstar would’ve chosen to train me, but you didn’t! Why?”
“Because out of all of your siblings, Firepaw, I thought that you were the most likely to survive. Are you going to prove me wrong?”
The cats lapsed into silence. Firepaw looked down at his paws. They were shaking, like the rest of his body. I can’t stop caring about other cats. That’s just… not me. But I owe it to Tinyscar to try and stay alive.
“Does it ever end? Does it ever… get easier?” Firepaw asked in a small voice.
Tinyscar stared back at him with cold blue eyes. “No,” he replied.
Notes:
We see another side of Tinyscar! I'm really trying my best to write him as someone who genuinely cares about Firepaw but is also extremely twisted from the things he's had to do to survive.
Chapter 11: Chapter 9
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Firepaw’s dreams were restless that night, just as they had been the night before. Some part of him wondered if his injury had changed something deep inside him, and if he’d ever sleep well again. He drifted in and out of sleep, hopping from one dream to the next. First was a younger Tinyscar, playing with a golden tabby tom that Firepaw didn’t recognize. His mentor looked so young and carefree, Firepaw almost didn’t recognize him at first, but the white paw was a dead giveaway. The dream shifted, and the toms were standing opposite each other in a clearing that Firepaw recognized well—the mossy training hollow. They sprang at each other, claws unsheathed, but Firepaw could tell that Tinyscar was going easy on his opponent. The golden tom, however, was not showing Tinyscar the same courtesy. The golden tom pinned Tinyscar to the ground and raked open his belly with powerful hind legs. Tinyscar’s jaws stretched wide in a soundless wail. Firepaw blinked, and Tinyscar was standing over the lifeless body of the golden tom, dripping with blood. Pelt prickling, Firepaw turned on his heels and ran, desperate to escape the bloody scene. He crashed through the undergrowth, not paying attention to where he was headed, only caring about getting away. He crashed through the trees into the ShadowClan camp. Tiny versions of Ravenpaw and Dustpaw and another kit that Firepaw didn’t recognize were wailing to Rowanberry: “But when can we go home?” Rowanberry looked at the kits with tired eyes. “This is your home, little ones,” she mewed, wrapping her tail around them. Mist consumed the camp and Firepaw was swept away once more.
___
Firepaw’s life lapsed into a mundane routine following his injury. When Yellowfang had told Brokenstar that he would need at least a moon to fully heal, he’d barely listened. “Fine,” the Clan leader had meowed disinterestedly “but he doesn’t eat until after the warriors and apprentices. If he’s not contributing, he’s not a priority.” From the way Brokenstar’s eyes slid over him, Firepaw could tell that the dark tabby tom had already written him off as a lost cause. Yellowfang hadn’t tried to argue with Brokenstar over feeding Firepaw, and later that night, he discovered why. When their share of the fresh kill was dropped off—a skinny old mouse to share between the two of them, Yellowfang had pushed it towards Firepaw. “I’m not hungry,” she’d meowed. Every night after that, Yellowfang seemed to have a different excuse. “I ate while I was out gathering herbs.” “I snuck a vole from the fresh kill pile this morning.” “I’m feeling nauseous.” Firepaw wasn’t blind, though. He could see the old medicine cat growing skinnier by the day. He tried to refuse his food, a couple of times, but Yellowfang wouldn’t hear of it. He eventually realized that the best way to get Yellowfang to eat was to be messy with his own meal. He purposefully left large scraps of meat on the bones of his prey, or let an uneaten chunk of flesh drop out of his mouth when he ate. Once Yellowfang was convinced that Firepaw had finished eating, she would quietly scarf down whatever scraps were left behind. Firepaw suspected she’d caught on to what he was doing, but she was too proud—or perhaps too hungry—to confront him about it.
Some days, when there wasn’t enough prey for the Clan, neither of them ate. Those days were the worst. Yellowfang did her best to abate their hunger pangs by feeding them some strange concoction of herbs. “These are usually used as travelling herbs, for cats going to the Moonstone,” she explained. But, since Brokenstar became leader, he hasn’t gone to speak with StarClan even once, and he’s forbidden me from making the journey myself at halfmoon. So they’re just sitting here, shriveling. We might as well eat them.” The herbs were bitter and got stuck on the roof of Firepaw’s mouth, but he didn’t complain. It was better than going hungry. But despite Yellowfang’s best efforts, neither of them ever felt full, even when they did have prey to eat. Firepaw was starting to wonder how long they could go on like this when salvation arrived for the two starving cats in the form of Harepaw.
The first time that the leggy brown and white tom had appeared in the medicine den, Firepaw had felt unsure. Tense. He hadn’t seen the other apprentice since their battle where Harepaw had broken his rib. But his misgivings were quickly put aside when Harepaw dropped a plump young rabbit at Firepaw’s nest. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he’d meowed quietly. “I was trying to go as easy on you as I could without drawing Brokenstar’s attention, but… you’re so much smaller than the other apprentices. I misjudged the amount of force I needed to use. I caught you this to show how sorry I am.”
“It’s alright,” Firepaw purred, wincing at the twinge in his chest. “Fresh kill rights all wrongs.”
“And Blizzardwing allowed this? Brokenstar allowed this?” Yellowfang mewed suspiciously.
Harepaw flicked one ear dismissively. “I caught this on my own time, not on patrol. Technically, its mine to do with as I please.”
Firepaw let out a grateful purr at the thoughtful gesture. Such juicy fresh kill was rare to come by in ShadowClan territory, and Harepaw had chosen to share his rare catch with them. That night, both Yellowfang and Firepaw went to sleep with full bellies for the first time since his injury.
To Firepaw’s surprise, Harepaw continued to visit the medicine cat’s den each night after that, always with a generous helping of fresh-kill in tow. “This is my share of food,” he said with a glint in his eye. “Nobody can tell me where I have to eat it, and nobody can stop me from sharing a bit with my Clanmates if I want to.”
With Harepaw regularly joining them for meals in the medicine cat’s den, Ashpaw began to show up sometimes as well, looking to eat with her brother. Firepaw hadn’t spoken much to the two older apprentices much before, but he quickly found that he enjoyed their company a great deal. Ashpaw had a tongue as sharp as a thorn and a fiery temper to match, but she mellowed out in the presence of her good-natured sibling.
Ashpaw and Harepaw’s visits seemed to trigger a cascade, and before long, all the other apprentices were visiting the medicine cat’s den as well, in the mornings and evenings when they were free from training. Poppypaw, Mistpaw and Ravenpaw were the most frequent visitors, of course, but all of the apprentices stopped by from time to time to check on their wounded denmate. Even Dustpaw showed his face on occasion, though he claimed it was only to get treatment for training injuries. The only cat that Firepaw never saw was Wildpaw. Firepaw feared he had caused an irreparable rift between himself and his littermate. Whenever he tried to speak to the large tom to bridge the yawning chasm between them, he was given the cold shoulder. “Just give him time,” Mistpaw reassured. “He’ll come around.” Firepaw wasn’t so sure.
Despite the frequent visits from his fellow apprentices, Firepaw found himself at loose ends for long periods of the day when the other cats were out training. At first, he’d been grateful for the time to rest, but after a quarter-moon of being cooped up in the medicine cat’s den with nothing to do, he was beginning to feel stir-crazy. Yellowfang had tried to teach him how to sort herbs and mix poultices, if only to give him something to do, but it quickly became apparent he had little talent for the duties of a medicine cat. After Firepaw had managed to mix up marigold and goldenrod for the third time in a single day, Yellowfang had given up on him. “We’re lucky you’re a warrior apprentice,” she drawled. “ShadowClan would be doomed with you as its medicine cat.” Firepaw had learned not to take the old medicine cat’s japes personally. If Ashpaw had a tongue like a thorn, Yellowfang had a tongue like a whole bramble patch.
“And just what do you think you’re doing to your nest?”
Yellowfang’s complaint caused Firepaw to shake himself out of the daze he’d slipped into. When he looked down at his paws, he realized he’d been shredding the edges of his bedding. “Sorry, Yellowfang.” He mewed sheepishly.
“Will you be satisfied once you’ve torn every nest in the medicine den to shreds? Or will you turn your path of destruction on the apprentice’s den next?” Yellowfang meowed dryly.
“I’ll try and keep my claws to just this nest,” Firepaw promised.
“Hm,” Yellowfang grunted disbelievingly. “And before we know it, mice will be sprouting wings to fly. How about you put some of that energy to better use and go change the elders’ bedding?”
Firepaw pricked his ears. “Are you saying I’m well enough to go back to training?” He meowed excitedly.
“Absolutely not,” Yellowfang responded. “It’s barely been a half-moon. Your rib has only just begun to mend. However, you’re no longer at the point where every single movement you make is going to make your injury worse. You’re well enough for light activity—and I do mean light. If I find you’ve been tumbling around camp hurting yourself further, I’ll pin your paws to your nest with rocks until you’ve healed.”
“Yes, Yellowfang!” Firepaw ignored the sarcastic threat, too excited by the idea of finally being allowed to leave the medicine den.
“I’ve never seen a cat so excited to change dirty bedding,” Yellowfang murmured. “Perhaps we should do this with all apprentices, then maybe---” Firepaw did not catch the rest of what she was saying, already eagerly making his way out of the medicine cat’s den and into the wider camp.
Firepaw nosed his way through the woven willow stems blanketing the entrance of the elder’s den with a sheet of still-damp moss draped over his back, and wrinkled his nose in displeasure at the foul odor assuaging his scent glands. All three of the elders looked up in surprise at his intrusion, blinking slowly as though they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing. “Well, if it isn’t Firepaw!” Featherstorm purred, narrowing her eyes happily. “It warms my heart to see you up and out of your nest. Though I must say, I hope Yellowfang knows you’re here.”
“She does!” Firepaw chirped. “She sent me to change your bedding.”
“Thank StarClan for that!” Ashfur meowed, stretching his legs slowly as he rose from his dirty nest. “It’s been days since any cat has been by to take it out, as you can probably smell.”
Firepaw wrinkled his nose in agreement. “I’m surprised it got this bad.”
“In Raggedstar’s day, it never would have,” Ashfur complained.
“Hush,” Featherstorm warned. “What if some cat hears you?”
“The whole Clan is welcome to hear me, for all I care. I’ll yowl it right into Brokenstar’s ears, if that’s what it takes.” The old tom’s pale amber gaze shifted to Firepaw. “Before Brokenstar, it used to be the apprentice’s duty to care for the elders and change our bedding.”
Firepaw’s eyes widened in shock. “But doesn’t that take time away from battle training?”
“Time was, there was more to being an apprentice than just battle training,” Ashfur growled darkly. “What is this Clan coming to? Kits training before six moons, kits being take—”
“That’s enough,” Featherstorm hissed. “Firepaw doesn’t need to hear this.”
Ashfur let out a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry, young one. Ignore this old cat’s rambling about the old days. Now, let’s get that bedding changed, shall we?” Ashfur hobbled over to Brightflower’s nest, nosing his denmate gently to encourage her to get up. Though the old ginger she-cat had reacted when Firepaw entered the den, she hadn’t spoken a word, instead remaining hunched over in her nest, staring at the ground. She’s still mourning her kit, Firepaw thought with a stab of sympathy. The kit I got killed. His old guilt over Marigoldpaw’s untimely death came flooding back, making his pelt prickle.
“Come along, Brightflower. Let’s get you out of the way so that Firepaw here can change your bedding,” Ashfur mewed gently.
Brightflower rose to her paws unsteadily, stumbling over to a clear side of the den with the help of Ashfur and Featherstorm. With the elders out of the way, Firepaw got to work rolling up their soiled bedding into neat bundles with his paws, making sure to keep the filth on the inside of the wrap. As he worked, the elders spoke amongst themselves.
“Will you be going to the gathering tonight, Featherstorm?” Ashfur croaked.
“No,” the tabby molly sighed. “I can’t bare to face Robinwing now; not after…” the elder trailed off, and Firepaw got the notion that there was more that she wanted to say, but she wouldn’t say it in his presence.
“I understand,” Ashfur rasped sympathetically. “It’s… an unfortunate situation. I’m afraid I can’t stay away though. Applefur’s kits came last moon, so perhaps she’ll be able to attend the gathering this time.” Firepaw remembered some cat mentioning that Applefur was Ashfur’s only daughter. Firepaw had been too young to remember the molly when she left ShadowClan to serve as a surrogate for two WindClan toms, but no doubt Ashfur was eager to hear news of his kin. It must be awkward for her, staying with WindClan after everything they’ve done to us. Firepaw knew that surrogates were granted full amnesty from any ongoing Clan conflicts and were to be treated with the utmost respect, but it still couldn’t be easy to live in a hostile Clan for so many moons. Besides, you can’t trust a WindClan cat to obey the Warrior Code.
“That’s right,” Featherstorm’s soft purr pulled Firepaw from his spiraling thoughts. “She’ll be coming home soon, then. Just another couple moons until the kits are weaned.”
“It will be good to have her home again,” Ashfur agreed.
Firepaw finished gathering up the soiled bedding into a foul-smelling ball, and carefully rolled it out of the den with his paws. Once he’d pushed the dirty moss out, he set to teasing out the last bits of dirt and twigs from the fresh moss before lining the elder’s nests. When he was done, the elders settled back into their nests one by one with appreciative purrs.
“Ahh… that’s much better. Thank you, Firepaw.” Ashfur purred with contentment.
“Any time,” Firepaw dipped his head respectfully.
“Careful what you offer,” Featherstorm purred, “we might just hold you to it!”
“I mean it!” Firepaw exclaimed. “I want to do what I can. I can’t promise anything once I go back to Warrior training but… I will try,” he promised.
“You have a kind heart, Firepaw.” Ashfur murmured. “Take care that it doesn’t become your undoing.”
___
That evening, the gathering, and speculation over who would attend, was the talk of the apprentice’s den. Firepaw, no longer confined to the medicine cat’s den, was happy to take his meal with the other apprentices at their usual spot. He didn’t dare take any prey for himself from the meager fresh-kill pile, but he squeezed in next to Mistpaw and Leafpaw, trusting that his sisters would share their meal with him. He didn’t miss the way that Wildpaw, previously crouched next to Leafpaw, picked up his frog and moved a few tail-lengths away as soon as Firepaw sat down. Leafpaw’s gaze flashed between her two brothers, an unspoken question in her eyes. Firepaw subtly shook his head at her, indicating they’d talk about it another time.
“Brokenstar has to let me and Ravenpaw go this time,” Dustpaw was meowing. “We’ve been apprentices for almost three moons now, and we still haven’t been to a single gathering. Poppypaw and Lilypaw went last time, so its bound to be our turn this time, right?” He nudged his brother hopefully, looking for agreement.
“I’m not so sure…” Ravenpaw murmured. “Harepaw and Ashpaw have been apprentices for much longer than us, and they still haven’t been.”
Firepaw blinked in surprise. Harepaw and Ashpaw have never been to a gathering? The two apprentices were skilled hunters and fighters, no cat could deny that. Every cat in ShadowClan expected them to earn their Warrior names before long, so it was odd that they still hadn’t been invited to join a gathering party.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Lilypaw meowed to Harepaw.
“I don’t really care,” Harepaw shrugged noncommittally, focused on tearing a wing off of the blackbird he was eating. “It used to matter to me, but not so much anymore. Every cat knows ShadowClan has the strongest warriors. I figure there’s not much to see from the other Clans.”
“But every Clan has its legendary warriors!” Poppypaw exclaimed. “There’s Lionheart, Tigerclaw and Whitestorm of ThunderClan, Stagleap and Mudclaw of WindClan, Leopardfur and Stonefur of RiverClan… don’t you at least want to see them, even once?”
“I’m sure we’ll get a good enough look at them when we’re ripping them to shreds in battle,” Ashpaw boasted.
“As if you could beat a legend like Tigerclaw!” Dustpaw retorted.
“I bet I could!” Ashpaw growled playfully. “Every cat says he’s huge, and huge cats are always slow. I’d be on him so fast, he wouldn’t have any time to react!”
A yowl from Brokenstar atop the Clanrock brought the apprentices conversation to a halt. “Cats of ShadowClan! Gather round. I have decided the patrol who will attend the gathering tonight.” Cats appeared from every corner of the camp to sit around the base of Clanrock, looking up at their leader expectantly. Firepaw himself took a seat between Mistpaw and Ravenpaw.
“Blackfoot, Tangleburr, Blizzardwing,” Brokenstar began, “Darkflower, Russetfur, Boulder and Tinyscar,” he continued, his eyes scanning the assembled cats. “Ashfur, Wildpaw, Poppypaw and Lilypaw. That will be all. Gather at the entrance of camp; we leave immediately.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Firepaw saw Ravenpaw’s shoulders slump and Dustpaw’s tail flick with irritation as the named cats made their way to the tangle of brambles at that marked the camp entrance. Firepaw nudged his friend with a shoulder. “Maybe next time, yeah?” he meowed.
“Maybe,” Ravenpaw replied, not sounding at all hopeful. “I’m going to get some rest. Tell me what happened in the morning if you decide to wait up, okay?”
Firepaw nodded his agreement as his friend slipped away towards the apprentice’s den. Firepaw took a deep breath of the cool night air, staring up at the full moon. He was tired from traveling out of the camp for the first time in half a moon, but he wasn’t ready to go back to the medicine cat’s den just yet. As he sat, Leafpaw appeared next to him, her scarred tabby pelt pressing close to his. There’s only a half-moon’s difference of training between us, and she’s already scarred like a warrior, he thought with a prickle of unease. The littermates were quiet for a moment until Leafpaw spoke. “So, what’s going on between you and Wildpaw? He hasn’t been visiting you in Yellowfang’s den, and he avoided you like you had greencough when we ate tonight.”
“We had a fight,” Firepaw sighed. “It was the day I got injured. The day Marigoldpaw died. I found out that… that Wildpaw was the one to kill her,” he explained.
Leafpaw blinked slowly, completely unphased. “And?”
Firepaw felt chilled by his sister’s nonchalance. “And he shouldn’t have killed her! She was a good cat!”
“Its not like he had a choice,” Leafpaw defended. “Brokenstar told him to fight, so he fought. And he won. Clawface says that only the strong survive to become warriors. It’s sad that Marigoldpaw wasn’t strong enough to make it, but that isn’t Wildpaw’s fault.”
“I suppose,” Firepaw meowed, his pelt prickling uneasily. “It just seems wrong to kill Clanmates during training.”
“Death is part of a warrior’s life,” Leafpaw said matter-of-factly. “To die in battle is the highest honor. You should be proud of Marigoldpaw, and trust that StarClan will honor her sacrifice. And be proud of Wildpaw for his strength.”
But this wasn’t death in battle, he wanted to point out, but he held his tongue. He got the sense that his sister wouldn’t understand, and he had no desire to fall out with another one of his littermates. Instead, he nodded uncertainly, not trusting himself to speak.
Leafpaw gave her body a long, languid stretch, broken by a yawn. “Well, I’m headed back to my nest,” she meowed. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about the gathering in the morning. You should get some rest as well.” She gently brushed her tail over his shoulders the way that Fernshade often did, padding off into the shadows of the apprentice’s den.
Firepaw was left alone in the clearing, staring up at the starry sky once again. The stars of silverpelt glittered coldly, ever so far away. It was hard to imagine that cats as warm as Marigoldpaw and Badgerpaw were among the starry warriors, shining with a cold, unfeeling light. Nevertheless, Firepaw hoped that they were up there, and that they were safe and happy.
“No matter how hard you stare, the stars won’t answer you. I should know.”
A rasping, sarcastic mew from beside Firepaw nearly made him leap out of his pelt.
“Yellowfang? You’re not at the gathering?”
Yellowfang flicked an ear. “Did you hear Brokenstar call my name, kit?” She rasped. “No, Brokenstar wants me here in camp at all times. He hasn’t even let me travel to the Moonstone at half-moon, lately. He says that he wants me ready to deal with any surprise injuries, but he doesn’t fool me. He doesn’t want me speaking to the other Clans.”
Firepaw cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”
“It’s too complicated to explain,” Yellowfang sighed. Firepaw’s fur prickled with annoyance. No-cat in ShadowClan ever wanted to answer his questions. They always deflected or avoided or changed the subject. It was no secret that ShadowClan cats liked their privacy, even to the point where the other Clans found them mysterious, but Firepaw felt that this was a bit extreme. Still, he decided not to press the issue with Yellowfang tonight. The old medicine cat looked exhausted and defeated, and Firepaw knew she’d been working harder than any cat. “Come back to the medicine den, Firepaw,” Yellowfang murmured. “You still need your rest. We’ll hear about the gathering tomorrow.”
Firepaw followed her into the calm quiet of the medicine den without protest.
Notes:
A really long chapter, and not the most exciting, but honestly after the doom and gloom of the last couple chapters, I think it provides a much needed break from the action. Also setting up some important subplots here, some of which you almost certainly picked up on, others which you might not have! As always, comments are my greatest motivator, and I would love to hear your thoughts and/or theories for where the story is headed.
Chapter 12: Chapter 10
Notes:
Hello everyone! It has been quite a long time. I never forgot about this story, I always meant to come back to it, but life got away from me, and then I felt too embarrassed to pick it back up. But a few days ago, I got a comment from someone saying they'd bookmarked this story in case it ever updated again. That brought the story back to the forefront of my mind, and made me realize that there were still people out there thinking about my story, even new people discovering it and enjoying it. It made me realize that I could still pick it back up. I opened up my old document, and what do you know, I'd actually already written the whole next chapter back before I stopped updating this story! This is that chapter, but I do not intend for it to be the last I ever post. My hope is to continue working on this, though I will make no promises about a consistent update schedule. I am pursuing a PhD in genetics right now, so I am very busy with my research and coursework. However, this is a story that is near and dear to my heart. If I couldn't forget about it these last three years, I suspect I never will. So, I hope you all enjoy!
Chapter Text
“Let all cats gather at the Clanrock for a meeting!” Firepaw woke to the familiar sound of Brokenstar’s summons. The lack of light in the den and his own weariness told him that dawn had not yet broken. Brokenstar and the rest of the patrol must have only just returned from the gathering.
Yellowfang was already awake, stretching her limbs one by one. “Up you get,” she meowed, nosing Firepaw gently. “Brokenstar doesn’t sound pleased, and we’d best not make things worse by being late.”
Firepaw rose to his paws with a wince. His wounds rarely bothered him anymore, but he was always sore first thing in the morning. He pushed the discomfort away, scrambling after Yellowfang out into the camp. The rest of the Clan was already gathered in the meeting hollow, eyes alight with interest. Firepaw made his way over to join the rest of the apprentices on the far side of the hollow, and decided to chance taking a seat next to Wildpaw. The brown tabby’s already spikey fur was standing even more on end than usual, and his eyes glittered with excitement. “What’s going on?” Firepaw hissed into his brother’s ear.
“Tallstar accused ShadowClan of raiding WindClan territory without cause, even though every cat knows WindClan has been stealing prey from ShadowClan for moons,” Wildpaw was kneading the ground in a frenzy, his anger at Firepaw apparently forgotten in the thrill of the moment. “Not to mention what they did to Raggedstar. Tallstar said that if Brokenstar was looking for a fight, he’ll have one, and that the next ShadowClan cats seen on WindClan territory will be killed like the rogues they are!”
Firepaw curled his lip. “I always knew WindClan were a bunch of fox-hearted cowards with no respect for the Warrior Code.”
Blizzardwing, who was sitting in front of the apprentices, shot them a glare over his shoulder. “Keep it down,” he growled. “Brokenstar is about to speak.”
Firepaw shuffled his paws in embarrassment, but his rage at WindClan’s transgressions had not been curbed in the slightest. Threatening to kill another Clan’s Warriors over border skirmishes? WindClan was over the line. For the first time since his injury, Firepaw found himself feeling grateful for his Clan leader’s ferocity. Brokenstar might be harsh and unforgiving towards his own Clan, but that meant he’d be even more so towards any rivals that dared to threaten ShadowClan.
“Cats of ShadowClan,” Brokenstar began, his voice resounding throughout the hollow. “As some of you know, at the Gathering last night, Tallstar accused ShadowClan of attacking WindClan unprovoked.”
Hisses and yowls of shock exploded throughout the clearing. “He still dares to deny responsibility for Raggedstar’s murder? Even after all this time?” Cinderfur’s growl rose above the din.
Brokenstar shook his head sadly. “It is as you say. Tallstar claims even now that WindClan bears no responsibility for noble Raggedstar’s death,” His eyes blazed with fury. “But I will not allow such blatant lies to go unpunished! Nor will I suffer Tallstar’s threats to harm my Warriors!”
The Clan howled their approval at Brokenstar’s words.
“From today onward, there will be some changes made to life in ShadowClan,” Brokenstar declared. “With the threat from WindClan, we no longer have time to waste on hunting patrols. All of our efforts must go towards battle training and border patrols. Cats will have to hunt for themselves when they can.”
The Clan began murmuring uncertainly, and Firepaw noticed pelts prickling on a number of cats. “What about the elders and queens?” Ashfur put in, rising to his feet. “Will we be expected to hunt for ourselves as well?”
Brokenstar dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Queens and elders have all the skills they need to hunt for themselves, so they will be expected to contribute to ShadowClan’s success by hunting for themselves.”
“But this has never been done before!” Ashfur protested. “Warriors and apprentices have always hunted for the elders and queens! For the elders, it is a thanks for our many moons of service, and for the queens, it is to honor the future Warriors that they bring to us.”
“Ashfur, you have served the Clan for countless seasons, so I know you of all cats would do anything to keep ShadowClan safe and strong,” Brokenstar’s voice was smooth and calm. “You must believe me when I tell you that this is what must be done. However, I hear your concerns, and I offer you this: Warriors and apprentices must put battle training and patrols first, but I will not stop them from hunting for their Clanmates if they so choose. No formal hunting patrols will be sent out, but cats that catch extra prey may choose to do with it as they wish.” Brokenstar’s eyes slid over the assembled cats, waiting for their muttering to die down. It seemed that his words had reassured them for now. Even Ashfur sat down, his fur beginning to lie flat, but Firepaw still thought that the old tom looked uncertain. Surely he must see that the threat from WindClan must take precedence? Firepaw silently promised that he would hunt for Ashfur and the other elders when he was allowed to train again. I’ll make sure that they’re well fed, and safe from WindClan.
Brokenstar continued. “ShadowClan will also be increasing patrols on all borders. In addition to dawn, dusk, sunhigh and moonhigh patrols on the border, we will be adding a pre-dawn patrol and a pre-dusk patrol, as well as two more patrols specifically on the WindClan border.”
More murmurs of unease broke out among the Clan. This time, it was Blackfoot, the ShadowClan deputy that spoke up, his dark ears twitching with uncertainty. “Brokenstar, while I agree that we need more patrols, I fear that we lack the Warriors to execute this plan. Newtspeck is still nursing her kits, and Fernshade is staying in the nursery to help her.”
Brokenstar curled his lip in disgust. “You mean to tell me that Fernshade still hasn’t returned to her Warrior duties? Where is she? Fernshade!” He snarled.
Firepaw’s mother pushed her way through the crowd, her head low, Darkflower right behind her. When they reached the front of the gathered cats, Darkflower stepped in front of her mate, shielding her from Brokenstar’s hostile glare. “She lost her son less than a moon ago!” Darkflower hissed. “She has the right to mourn.”
“She’s mourned long enough!” Brokenstar spat. “Cats who cannot contribute to ShadowClan have no place here.”
Firepaw tensed as he saw the glint of Darkflower’s unsheathed claws. Was his mother going to attack the Clan leader in the middle of camp? What should he do if she did? A loyal Warrior would defend his Clan leader against any cat, but a loving son would side with his mother. Thankfully, Fernshade saved him from having to make a choice.
“It’s alright,” Fernshade soothed, running her tail along her mate’s spine. “I’m happy to return to my Warrior duties, Brokenstar,” she meowed calmly
The fur that had begun to bristle along Brokenstar’s shoulders lay flat. “As you should,” he growled with a curt nod to Fernshade. “Nevertheless, Blackfoot is right. ShadowClan needs more warriors. And we shall have them. Harepaw, Ashpaw, come forward.”
The two older apprentices exchanged a look of shock and wonder, and after a moment’s hesitation, they leapt to their feet, racing forward eagerly to meet Brokenstar at the base of the Clanrock. Firepaw felt a flash of pride for the two cats who had become his friends over the past half-moon. They’re both strong cats. They deserve this.
“Harepaw, Ashpaw, do you promise to defend ShadowClan with tooth and claw, even at the cost of your life?” Brokenstar mewed.
“I do.” Ashpaw mewed solemnly.
“I do.” Harepaw echoed his sister, his tail lashing with excitement.
“Then from this day forward, you shall be known as Harewhisker and Ashfoot. ShadowClan honors your strength and skill in battle, and we welcome you as full Warriors of ShadowClan.”
“Harewhisker! Ashfoot! Harewhisker! Ashfoot!” Firepaw raised his voice along with the rest of the Clan to cheer the two new Warriors names, but his own yowl was drowned out by the proud howls of Blizzardwing and Russetfur, the former mentors of the two new Warriors.
Brokenstar sprang up onto the Clanrock as the cheering died down, signaling that the meeting was not yet over. “No need for you two to sit vigil tonight,” Brokenstar meowed. “No cat doubts your dedication to ShadowClan, and your talents as Warriors are better used patrolling and fighting.” There were more uneasy murmurs among the older Warriors at Brokenstar’s breach of tradition, but the Clan leader continued on before any cat had the chance to protest. “There is one more matter I wish to address,” Brokenstar called, his eyes flitting from one cat to the next, clearly searching for someone. His gaze finally came to rest on Firepaw, and he felt himself shrink under the dark tabby’s cold yellow gaze. “Ah, yes. There you are,” Brokenstar muttered. “Firepaw, you’ve been recovering from training injuries for the past half-moon. You should be well enough to return to training by now. Starting at dawn, you will fully participate in battle training and patrols with the other apprentices.”
“What?!” Yellowfang hissed, disbelief cracking her voice. “Brokenstar, I did not authorize this! I told you he needed at least a moon to heal, and it’s barely been half as long!”
“I don’t need you to authorize anything, you old bag of bones,” Brokenstar growled, narrowing his eyes to slits. “I’m the Clan leader, and the Warrior Code says that my word is law. I saw Firepaw moving around camp yesterday. If he’s well enough to care for the elders, he’s well enough to go back to battle training. We can’t afford to waste any able-bodied cat, especially now.”
“I’ve given you my warning. If he collapses or injures himself permanently, it will be your fault,” Yellowfang spat.
“If he collapses, then he isn’t worthy of being a ShadowClan Warrior,” Brokenstar shot back. “We have no need for weak cats who can’t keep up. Tell me Firepaw, are you weak?”
Firepaw straightened up, a bit startled to be addressed directly by his leader. “No, sir.” He meowed uncertainly. He knew he wasn’t all the way healed, but Yellowfang had told him to never show weakness or uncertainty in front of Brokenstar. “No, I’m not weak. I can keep up.” He meowed more certainly.
“There,” Brokenstar purred appreciatively. “Does that satisfy you, Yellowfang?” The old medicine cat did not respond, only looked at her paws with an unreadable expression. Taking her silence for agreement, Brokenstar leapt down from the Clanrock. “This meeting is over. Blackfoot, arrange the patrols for the new schedule and have cats working by dawn. The rest of you, sleep if you like,” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into his den.
“It will be good to have you back in the den with us, Firepaw!” Poppypaw chirped happily. “I’m glad you’ve recovered.”
“Are you really fully healed, though?” Ravenpaw meowed doubtfully. “Yellowfang said you needed a whole moon to heal…”
Tinyscar’s warnings not to trust any of the other cats in ShadowClan echoed in his mind. Ravenpaw wouldn’t betray me…would he? But there’s also no reason for him to know that I’m still injured. “I’m well enough to manage,” Firepaw replied vaguely.
“If you say so,” Ravenpaw shrugged. “Come on, you should get some rest if you’re going to be training again. “Your old nest is gone, but you can have Ashfoot or Harewhisker’s old nests now that they’ll be sleeping in the Warrior’s den.”
“Their old nests are next to ours!” Poppypaw gave a happy little bounce.
Firepaw felt a momentary stab of sadness that he wouldn’t be sleeping next to his littermates anymore, but with the way Wildpaw had been treating him lately, perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps time and space would heal the hurt between them. At least, I hope so. Firepaw forced out a rusty purr. “That sounds great, Poppypaw. Why don’t you lead the way?” The tall tortoiseshell scampered off with her tail high, and Firepaw padded after her slowly. Back to training… am I really ready? FIrepaw shook himself. He couldn't afford to think like that. His Clan needed him, and he would simply have to rise to the challenge.
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