Believe In Me — Shrewpaw Survives AU — Warriors The New Prophecy

by Raintatter

Summary:

All it took was a warning.
Shrewpaw has only ever wanted what’s best for his Clan, so when a famine took the lives of his sisters, and threatened to do the same with everyone else he loved, he didn’t hesitate to chase that pheasant. That one choice turns his life upside down. Shrewpaw survives the accident, and must learn to face the challenges ahead of him, and ahead of all of the Clans.
Everyone’s choices in life matter; his choices will cause different chain reactions among the cats of the Clans.

Notes:

Y’ALL I figured out how to fix the Dustfern bloodline issue for this AU! Dustpelt is now the son of Dappletail and Patchpelt. Dappletail has the same family, Patchpelt is still the son of Swiftbreeze and Adderfang, HOWEVER Redtail (and Willowpelt and Spottedleaf) are not their kits and are the kits of Robinwing and Fuzzypelt. Runningwind and (Trans man) Redtail are Sandstorm’s parents. Brindleface (and Frostfur) is the daughter of Larksong and Flamenose instead; her mate was likely a kittypet/she didn’t disclose it, but it sure as hell wasn’t Whitestorm. Ferncloud and her mom aren’t related to Dustpelt! Shrewpaw is no longer a child of an uncle/niece relationship!!

I apologize for any timeline discrepancies in advance; I haven’t read Warriors in like a decade, and I’m mostly going off memory, wiki descriptions, and what feels like is best for the flow of the story. The good news: it’s near impossible to butcher any events or characters as bad as canon Warriors manages to do on its own. Bad news: that is a very wide margin of error.

Sorry for taking so long to rewrite/update this! I hope you enjoy, and crossing fingers, now that I have a legit plot outline, updates might come out more often than *checks notes* holy shit, two years???

Chapter 1: All It Took Was A Warning

Trembling with anticipation, Shrewpaw crept forward, his pawsteps silent and calculated. He carefully crouched down, eyes locked on his prey.

Ahead of him, a pheasant stood, pecking at the dry undergrowth just to the side of the Thunderpath. 

This pheasant could feed half the Clan if I could catch it… I could save Birchkit. The thought was a painful reminder of the days prior. If only he’d seen the bird just a day before… if only he’d caught it… maybe he could’ve saved Larchkit.

Grief ripped through his heart with claws sharper than the hunger in his belly. That day, he’d promised his mother he’d catch enough to feed the kits; a promise he’d made every day, and had unwillingly broken without fail. 

The pheasant raised its head, shaking its taupe feathers warily. 

Shrewpaw held his breath. Please StarClan, he silently begged, please. Please let me catch this. Please let me feed the elders and the queens, so Ferncloud can grieve the loss of Hollykit and Larchkit without the pain of hunger and fear of losing Birchkit too. Please, let me save my brother. My family. My friends…

Is she still mad at me? Shrewpaw found the thought popping into his mind. Squirrelpaw had been so upset that morning… he’d just wanted to let her sleep in, she seemed so tired, and— No. I don’t have time for this. He shook the thoughts from his head, trying to refocus on the task at hand.

The bird took a step closer to the Thunderpath, cocked its head at something on the ground, and bent back down.

Belly fur brushing lightly against the ground, Shrewpaw slunk forward, quiet, careful, desperate. He fell back into a crouch, pupils expanding. He wriggled his haunches, bunching his muscles, ready to spring. He was close enough now. 

He could do this.

Don’t mess it up.

In a blur of brown fur, Shrewpaw burst from the undergrowth, streaking towards the pheasant with outstretched claws. 

It squawked and began to run, but Shrewpaw bolted after it. 

Beneath his paws, dirt gave way to the hard stone of the Thunderpath. He was so close that he could almost taste the blood.

Blood rushed in his ears, deafening; his vision a tunnel fixed only on the goal ahead. Nothing else existed. Him, the pheasant, the hunt.

With a last push of willpower, Shrewpaw lunged forward, his claws latching onto his prey. He pulled it down, sinking his teeth into its neck as its wings battered desperately. He clamped his jaw as hard as he could, panting, waiting for the struggle to end. 

Triumph flooded his heart—

—“WATCH OUT!”

Releasing the pheasant, Shrewpaw’s head shot up and whipped around. 

The bright lights of a monster barreled towards him. He barely had any time to react; it moved at an impossible speed, screeching as it hurtled towards him. 

He tried to move, but in that fraction of a second, it was impossible to fully escape.

Shrewpaw felt the impact on his left side. His body went flying several tail lengths forward, skidding against the black stone, flipping once as he hit the ground hard.

His hearing muffled apart from a loud ringing. His vision blackened.

He lay sprawled, blood seeping around him, sticking to his fur. He tried to force himself up, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

As Shrewpaw’s sight started to return, bleary and dark, he realized he should’ve been in pain. Instead, he felt numb, heavy, like he had been buried deep under layers of soil.

With every fiber of strength he had, Shrewpaw fought his way to a crouching position, head hanging limp and wobbly. The ringing in his ears began to quiet enough for him to hear his own ragged breaths. His sight faded in and out, blood trickling down his face and into his left eye.

He groggily turned his head towards the spot he’d been just moments before. There, next to the pheasant, the monster stood still. Black marks marred the ground beneath its paws, blood —Shrewpaw realized, his own blood— marking the front. The side of its body opened outwards, a screaming twoleg stumbling out and coming towards Shrewpaw in what felt like slow-motion.

Before the twoleg could reach him, the blurry shape of a gray cat drew his attention by nudging him with their nose. 

The cat-shape said something that Shrewpaw couldn’t hear or understand, and began shepherding him away.

Limping heavily and leaning on the unfamiliar cat for support, he tried not to black out as they made their way towards some brush off the side of the Thunderpath. He swayed, looking down at his bloody legs, as if looking at someone else. He was completely detached from himself.

Then, the pain finally set in.

Black sparks taking over his sight, Shrewpaw stumbled towards the ground with a yowl of agony. 

The small gray cat did his best to catch him, but was pulled down too, only succeeding in cushioning the blow. His panicky face came into focus for a moment, and he was meowing something. The little tom started dragging Shrewpaw, pulling with all of the might his little body could muster.

Only seconds later, a second, larger, light brown tom started helping him. The warrior pulled Shrewpaw through the tall grass and into a hidden tunnel, carefully lowering him to the ground.

Shrewpaw could hear twoleg noises from outside. The brown cat stood at the entrance to the tunnel, back arched, while the gray one stayed by Shrewpaw’s side. 

“SHREWPAW!” A muffled voice broke through the veil of Shrewpaw’s hearing.

Thornclaw was bounding towards him, fur bristling. 

Shrewpaw’s eyes lulled to the back of his head, and all went silent.

Rumbling above him caused his eyes to open. He was still in the tunnel, the ShadowClan cats were still there with Thornclaw.

“…monster hit him…” one faint voice said.

“… him down here to hide from the twole…”

Shrewpaw closed his eyes again.

“HEY! Stay with me!”

He snapped back awake, staring foggily at his frantic mentor.

Thornclaw reached for the scruff of Shrewpaw’s neck, picking him up as if he were a kit. The warrior began carrying him, each step sending lightning strikes through Shrewpaw’s nerves. 

The brown apprentice shrieked from the pain, the scent of guilt and despair wafting off of his mentor in waves. He wailed with each step Thornclaw took, struggling to stay awake.

I want Ferncloud! I want my mother! The first coherent thought he’d been able to muster since the monster had struck him arced through his mind.

He desperately tried to fight the pain, to cling to consciousness, but it was too overwhelming. He couldn’t do it.

“It’s okay Shrewpaw. You’ll be safe with us.” The squeaky voice of a kit touched his mind with the gentleness of a feather, and whisked him away into a comfortable nothingness.

Chapter 2: The Fallout

“Shrewpaw! Shrewpaw! Wake up!”

Shrewpaw slowly opened his eyes to see Hollykit scampering around him in happy circles. 

The tom shook his head, trying to clear the sleepiness cloaking his mind, and blinked up at the sky. Warm sunlight flitted through the leaves, rustling softly in the gentle breeze, dappling the sandy ground of the camp in green-tinted shadows.

“Hollykit, what are you doing here?” Shrewpaw yawned. Everything before had slipped away from him like a bad dream. He couldn’t remember…

“I’m here too!” Larchkit’s voice caused Shrewpaw to notice his other sister snuggled up against his front leg. “We’re so glad we get to spend time with you for a bit.”

“For a bit?..” Shrewpaw trailed off. The leg Larchkit was cuddled against was numb, but he didn’t have the heart to move her himself. 

“Well, you can’t stay here very long.” Hollykit mewed, sounding disappointed, though she brightened up just as quickly. “You have to go do warrior things soon!”

“Oh yeah.” Shrewpaw stretched contentedly, waving his tail. “I’m not late, am I?”

“No, not late at all!” Larchkit mimicked his stretch, and trotted forward. “You get to sleep in so you’ll feel better.”

“Hm. That’s nice.” Shrewpaw meandered out of the den and into the sunlight. He paused to allow his sisters to catch up, warmly watching them run around his legs. 

He reached the freshkill pile, mouth watering as he settled down with a vole. “How has your day been?” He asked the two kits.

“Great!” Hollykit exclaimed. “We played games with the other kits. Snowkit pretended to be a sky-dog, and we had to fight him to save the Clan!”

“A sky-dog?!” Shrewpaw gasped in faux surprise, stretching out against the soft sand. “Sounds frightening!”

“It is! It's a dog, but it has wings and talons like a hawk!” Larchkit explained, cricking her tail. “But don’t worry, it's not real.”

“Well, that’s good.” Shrewpaw licked his muzzle, having finished the vole. I was so hungry…

He glanced back at the freshkill pile, considering grabbing something else, when confusion began to creep into his mind. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly. “I could’ve sworn I caught a pheasant earlier.”

“You did.” Hollykit chirped, lightly batting his tail. “I can barely believe you did it, everyone was amazed!”

Everyone must’ve eaten it without me. He thought, amused at his sisters chasing his waving tail about. I would’ve liked to try it. Oh well, the Clan is fed, that’s what matters. 

Suddenly stricken with confusion, Shrewpaw whipped his head up to look at his Clanmates again. With a sinking feeling, he realized he couldn’t recognize many of the cats basking around camp. “Who… who’s Snowkit?”

“Speckletail’s son.” Dappletail’s voice startled Shrewpaw, who widened his eyes at the sight of his grandmother. Her fur was sleeker than he remembered, she looked so healthy. “Oneeye and I are looking out for him until she gets here though.”

“Oneeye?..” Shrewpaw stared down at his paws for a moment, memories trickling in bit by bit. He looked back up to Dappletail, his tail going still as he was hit with the realization all at once. “A rabbit.”

“Yes.” Dappletail nodded, eyes shining sadly. “I should’ve listened, eh?”

“So that means…” Shrewpaw blinked, feeling sick, and looked down at his sisters chewing on his tail. 

“You don’t need to worry about them. I’m watching over them for now” A gentle voice reassured him. 

It was Ferncloud— no, not Ferncloud, though she looked nearly identical.

“Who are you?” Shrewpaw asked in awe.

“I’m Brindleface. I am your kin, your mother’s mother.” The she-cat blinked softly at him with the same green eyes as his mother’s, brushing her tail across her paws. “I died long before you were born, so you wouldn’t know me, but I’ve watched over Ferncloud, and by extension, you, ever since.”

Gazing down at Larchkit and Hollykit with a sigh, Shrewpaw remembered the Thunderpath. The world around him started to glimmer, the cats around him becoming translucent, starlight in their fur. He closed his eyes. “So, this means I’m dead.”

“No.” Brindleface’s response caught him off guard. “But you’ve gotten very close. If not for that ShadowClan apprentice getting your attention, you would have died on impact.”

The revelation of surviving surprised Shrewpaw more than his supposed death.

“Right now, you are here with us, but it’ll only be for a little while.” Brindleface gently licked his forehead. “It seemed at first that you’d be here to stay, but Cinderpelt is an excellent medicine cat. You’ll pull through.”

A mix of emotions swirled around Shrewpaw. Relief, awe, and a tinge of sadness. He watched as Larkkit and Hollykit scampered off, chasing another star-speckled kitten. “What about them?”

“They’ll be okay. They’re in loving paws, they’ll be okay until you join us permanently.” Purred Brindleface soothingly, pointing her muzzle behind Shrewpaw. “But right now, down there, there are cats that need you right now.”

Shrewpaw hesitated, looking over his shoulder to see what she’d gestured at.

Through the haze, he could see himself lying on the ground in the medicine den, the fur along the left side of his body bloody and matted. Several of his bones, including some ribs and his front left leg, were visibly broken. 

Only tail lengths away, Ferncloud lay collapsed and wailing beside him, Dustpelt licking between her ears in an attempt to comfort the distraught mother. Beside them, Spiderpaw stood petrified, shivering. Squirrelpaw leaned close to Brambleclaw, ears pinned to her head in despair, with Whitepaw crouched beside her with wide eyes. Thornclaw sat by the entrance to the medicine den with his head hung low, shoulders slumped in defeat. Cinderpelt was scrambling to set the breaks and to cover the gashes in poultices and cobwebs, her eyes tired and her paws covered in his blood.

Firestar strode into the den, past Thornclaw, who looked away in shame, and stopped beside Ferncloud and Dustpelt. The leader crouched down, meowing something into the pair’s ears, and Ferncloud let out another wail.

Shrewpaw looked back at Hollykit and Larchkit. They leapt joyfully, tumbling about and playing with who Shrewpaw guessed were Brindleface’s kits. They were so full of energy and life, a far cry from the motionless, weak scraps they had been towards the end. 

They’ll be okay. A bubble of relief formed in Shrewpaw’s chest, which quickly turned to sorrow as he turned back to witness his parents’ grief. But they won’t be.

Steadying himself, Shrewpaw took a deep breath. He touched his tail to Brindleface’s, steeling his resolve. “Thank you.”

She gently bumped her head against his. “You’ll see us again someday.”

Shrewpaw stepped forward.

The pain was back, radiating outwards from his injuries. Through the cloudiness, he fought for awareness of his surroundings, wanting nothing more than to sooth his mother’s cries.

“There’s a ceremony for this.” A muffled voice said. “You remember how it happened with Brightheart.”

It felt as if Shrewpaw had been cast down the gorge and had landed on a pointed stone. He took a breath in, but the movement caused stabbing pain in his ribs. 

“I ask our ancestors to look down on this apprentice,” the voice became clearer in one ear, and now Shrewpaw could tell it was Firestar. “He has learned the warrior code, and given up his life in service of his Clan…” The leader paused. “Let starClan receive him as a warrior.”

Shrewpaw opened his eyes with a jolt.

“He will be known—”

“—Wait.” Shrewpaw wheezed, his speech slurring weakly. 

Firestar closed his mouth as the cats in the den gasped. Ferncloud cried out gratefully, pressing her nose to Shrewpaw’s.

“Wait.” Shrewpaw repeated. He winced, trying to get some air. “Spiderpaw, Squirrelpaw, and I. Were supposed to get. Our names together. Can’t break. That promise.” He struggled to get out each word, chest aching from the effort of breathing.

Firestar dipped his head out of respect for the request, taking a step back.

“Oh thank StarClan! Thank starClan!” Ferncloud cried, burying her muzzle into his fur. “I thought I’d lost you too. Thank starClan…”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.” Cinderpelt interrupted her, though her eyes were soft. “He’s in bad shape. I’ve stopped the bleeding, but the breaks will take time to heal, and there’s still a risk of infection. I’m doing my best, but you need to stop touching him; you could unset his bones.”

Ferncloud backed off, pressing herself against Dustpelt, though it seemed to take everything in her to do so.

His father’s tired eyes flooded with worry and relief. “He’ll pull through.” Dustpelt assured them. “He’s strong.”

“You scared me to death!” Interjected Squirrelpaw, her thick, fluffy tail wrapping over her paws. Her nose was wrinkled in anger, but the fear in expression gave away her true emotions. “Stupid! Why would you risk your life over —what?! A bird?!”

“Big bird.” Shrewpaw corrected her with a wheeze.

“I don’t care how big it was, it wasn’t worth what happened. It wouldn’t be worth losing you.” The ginger she-cat wavered, and she twined her tail against her father’s for support. “Never do something like that again.”

“Did you bring it back?” Shrewpaw weakly raised his chin from the ground, facing Thornclaw.

His mentor hesitated, reeking of guilt. “Half of it. ShadowClan took the other half. We figured it was fair; one of their apprentices risked his life to help hide you from the twoleg that went after you, as did his mentor when he realized what had happened.”

At least some cats got to eat.

Gingerly lowering his head back down, Shrewpaw weakly flicked his ear, blinking slowly at Spiderpaw. To his dismay, Shrewpaw’s brother flattened his own ears, eyes wide with fear, and backed away, fleeing the den.

“Spiderpaw! Come back!” Ferncloud called, her tail proofing up in distress. “Where are you going?”

“Actually, I think it's best you all leave for the time being. It’s too crowded in here for me to do my job properly. Shrewpaw needs rest to heal.” Cinderpelt flicked her tail side-to-side, placing water-soaked moss in front of Shrewpaw, which he lapped at gratefully. “Go, care for Birchkit, rest, you can come back later.”

Dipping his head respectfully, Thornclaw was the first to leave, ushering Whitepaw with him. Brambleclaw squeezed out behind them, followed by Firestar, who nudged Squirrelpaw to get her to reluctantly leave. She shot him a worried look, but left with her father. 

Ferncloud hesitated a bit longer.

“Go, I’ll be alright.” Shrewpaw touched his nose to Ferncloud’s.

“Shrewpaw is in good paws,” Cinderpelt added soothingly, “Go feed Birchkit.”

Ferncloud gave Shrewpaw’s forehead one more quick lick, and then pulled away to stand near Dustpelt, pausing one last time at the exit to the den. “If you need me, just call out. You may be grown, but you will always be my kit.”

He slow blinked reassuringly, in too much pain to respond with words, and watched her leave.

Cinderpelt sighed and slumped down next to him. She looked up for a bit, as if pondering the situation, and then pawed some herbs towards Shrewpaw’s face. “Eat these, they’ll help with the pain.”

Without trying to figure out what they were, Shrewpaw quickly swallowed them. He trusted she knew how best to treat him.

Cinderpelt exhaled softly. “You can drop the act.” 

“What?”

“The tough act. I know what it's like to be struck by a monster; it was agony, and my wounds weren’t as severe as yours.” Cinderpelt shook some seeds from a flower, pushing several aside for Shrewpaw to eat. “I’ve been where you are, down to the last hair. I was an optimistic apprentice when it happened, with big dreams of doing my best as a warrior for my Clan, I even had a silly crush on a certain ginger cat —not that it ever would’ve gone anywhere— just as you do now. I know what you’re going through, and I know when a patient is saving face for the sake of their loved ones.”

Embarrassed slightly, Shrewpaw licked his chest fur, before licking up the seeds as well. He winced, squeezing his eyes closed, shaking from the pain. She was right.

“I didn’t want to be a medicine cat at first,” Cinderpelt continued, “But when I was told I’d never be a warrior, I chose to help where I could.” She closed her eyes. “And when my mentor died, I was the only medicine cat in ThunderClan. The only one who knew how to heal my Clanmates’ ailments. I have saved lives, I will continue to do so, and I realized everything happened for a reason. Though I do still sometimes wish I could’ve been a warrior, maybe started a family of my own, I have no regrets. I wouldn’t go back and change a thing.”

Though his pain was beginning to numb, Shrewpaw felt uneasy. “What are you trying to say?”

The gray medicine cat gave him a pitying look, meowing, “Your front leg is broken in two places. So are several of your ribs. You most likely have a concussion, your ear is damaged, your eye is damaged. IF you heal —and this is an if— you will always walk with a limp, you will possibly lose hearing or sight on that side, you will have achy bones for the rest of your life, and you will not be able to breathe in deeply.” 

His heart sinking, Shrewpaw stared at his broken leg. He was starting to feel sleepy, the effects of one of the herbs or the seeds he figured.

“You may not be able to be a warrior.” Cinderpelt concluded.

“No…” Shrewpaw’s voice cracked, his spirit draining. Panic rose is his chest, pulling him down into a pit of despair. “No, I have to be— That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be! I can’t just— I’ll still become a warrior, I will!”

“I know.” The medicine cat took a scrawny mouse from the corner of the den, setting it in front of Shrewpaw. “Firestar is kinder than Bluestar, more progressive, he may choose differently,” She tried to reassure him, though admitted, “But there is a chance you will be made into an elder early.”

Shrewpaw miserably wrapped his thin tail around himself, sniffing at the mouse hungrily. All of his hopes and dreams were being stripped away. He had chased the pheasant to feed his Clan, and now he was being told that he could no longer contribute. 

Just another mouth to feed.

“Being an elder does not make a cat a failure. They are not burdens, and neither are you.” Cinderpelt growled, if able to tell his thoughts. “If you wish to be a warrior, try with everything you have. If it works, you could pave the way for future generations of cats like us… and if it doesn’t, the other option is not lesser. You could still contribute to the Clan in other ways, just as I have.” She lay down next to him, tucking her paws underneath herself, blue eyes wide with concern. “Now, eat. Regain your strength as best you can.”

Hesitating for a moment, Shrewpaw considered just letting himself starve so the mouse could go to someone who could actually hunt, but he remembered Brindleface, and took a bite. Instantly, the hunger overwhelmed him, and he wolfed down the meal as quickly as he could. 

He sighed, licking his paw and trying to clean his face, though to his frustration, it was painful and difficult.

“Here, let me.” Cinderpelt sat up, grooming the messy fur on his face. 

The repetition of the action was soothing, helping the brown tom fall into a half-asleep state. After his face was cleaned, Cinderpelt moved on to any fur that was not covered in cobwebs or too close to any injuries. 

There was a long enough period of silence for Shrewpaw to nearly drift off to sleep. 

“There’s talk of leaving the forest. Going on a great journey to the place Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw speak of.” Cinderpelt lamented, settling back down. “Maybe it’s what needs to happen.”

This woke him right up. “But, the forest is our home.” In his heart, Shrewpaw knew she was right. As much as it hurt, the forest was a stranger now; a place of hunger and grief.

Would they leave me behind? The sickening thought hit him. 

He wanted to curl into a tight ball and wrap his tail over his nose, but his ribs hurt too much to move. The tom let out a choked sob.

“It’ll be okay.”  Whispered Cinderpelt.

The uncertainty in her voice only made him feel worse.

Chapter 3: Scars: visible and invisible

“We’re going to go rescue them.” Squirrelpaw meowed assuredly. “Me, Brambleclaw, Graystripe, Thornclaw, Sorreltail, and Rainwhisker.”

“Are you sure they’re even there?” Shrewpaw’s whiskers twitched. Several were missing on the left side due to the lacerations from the accident, so his face felt uncomfortably unbalanced. 

“Completely and entirely.” Squirrelpaw swept her fluffy ginger tail across the ground, scattering the dust around her. A cloud of worry came over her face.

“Hey.” Shrewpaw nudged her with his nose. “Leafpaw will be okay, you’ll get her back, I just know it.”

“I hope so…” Squirrelpaw trailed off, gently bumping her head against him. “I wish you could come along.”

“Me too,” Shrewpaw teased. “I’d keep you out of trouble.”

“Try to do some of your exercises while I’m gone.” The reddish she-cat gently nudged him with her white paw. “We’ve all got a job to do, right? That’s yours.”

Plastering on a look of determination, Shrewpaw nodded, heart pounding. “Be safe.”

Face falling into a grimace, he watched Squirrelpaw leave the makeshift medicine den, pricking his ears in an attempt to pick up on the sound of her pawsteps. Her form had already devolved into a dark ginger blob by the time she’d made it to the tree line, before disappearing through the foliage.

Many sunrises had passed since he’d woken up, most being spent in a haze of pain and poppyseeds. Today, he’d made an effort to stay conscious and present as long as possible to see Squirrelpaw off, so he could finally assess how badly his abilities were damaged. He’d been hoping there’d been some improvement over the past few days, but even now, he couldn’t hear out of his left ear, and the vision in the corner of his left eye was blurry. 

With a sigh, Shrewpaw looped his tail over his nose, squinting out at the ongoing of the Clan.

Ashfur was sulking, staring out at the treeline where Squirrelpaw had disappeared. Speckletail lay still, her eyes closed and her nose pressed into her paws. Beside her, Goldenflower and Frostfur fussed over the older she-cat, trying to get her to eat. Mousefur stood chiding Spiderpaw over something, the younger tom flattening his ears at his mentor as if biting back a reply. Sootfur was hunched over against one of the dusty stones of Snakerocks, periodically glancing around wildly as if something were hunting him, eyes glazed over and unfocused. He’d been acting like that ever since the Clan had moved here; it worried Shrewpaw. 

Inhaling, Shrewpaw shifted in his nest, closing his eyes. I need to do my stretches. He thought, dreading the exercise.

Letting out a small growl of discomfort, he flexed the toes of his front, right paw. He stretched the rest of the leg, wincing slightly at the ache, and breathed out slowly. His right side wasn’t nearly as damaged as the left where the monster had struck him, but was still sore from the impact of the Thunderpath. He stretched his back legs next. Unlike his front left leg, neither had been broken by the accident, so most of the strength that remained with Shrewpaw was stored in them. Next, he arched his back as much as he could, and then leaned forward. He tensed each of his muscles that he could, one at a time, and then released. 

He went through those motions, over and over again, panting with the effort it took despite how simple it seemed. Somehow though, even though it simultaneously hurt, the stretches offered the brown tom some relief. He wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but he silently swore to never question any regimens Cinderpelt gave him ever again. She could offer me deathberries and I’d be sure it was for a good reason. He mused internally.

Feeling thirsty, Shrewpaw swallowed, throat dry and parched. He leaned over to lap at the moss beside him, but realized it was dry. 

Cinderpelt was still out gathering what herbs she could in preparation for the journey ahead, so he couldn’t ask her for more water. He considered calling for one of the other cats around camp, but stopped, clamping his jaw shut. A puddle lay only a few fox lengths outside of the den, and he didn’t want to bother anyone when it was so close to him already.

I can do it myself. He decided, pushing against the ground with shaking legs. It’s not too far, besides, I said I’d exercise, didn’t I?

He took a deep breath, trembling as he rose off the ground. A wave of nausea hit him, the world seeming to churn around unsteadily. He closed his eyes. His right ear began to ring.

You can do this. He told himself, breathing through the discomfort. One step at a time. 

He cracked his eyes open, focusing on his wavering brown paws. He hesitantly picked up his front left paw, placing it hesitantly back on the stone. He tested his weight on it, but pain caused him to recoil. Flanks shivering, Shrewpaw hissed out of reflex, tail lashing as he sat back down.

Once again, his vision blurred and his ear rang. 

While he waited for it to pass, Shrewpaw fumed over the unfairness of the situation. He’d done everything he could to contribute to the Clan, and wouldn't have regretted giving his life to catch that pheasant and feeding the Clan. Instead, he’d survived, and it seemed almost like some cruel punishment instead of a mercy. He couldn’t hunt, so he wouldn’t be able to provide for his starving Clan. He couldn’t fight, so he wouldn’t be able to defend them. He couldn’t even walk! How was he supposed to travel like this?!

He focused on his surroundings, narrowing in on his family. 

Spiderpaw had left Mousefur to go flop down next to Birchkit and Ferncloud, softly batting at his little brother. Birchkit played back for only a short moment, before becoming too tired and snuggling himself against Ferncloud’s fur.

Spiderpaw closed his eyes too, tucking his thin, bony legs underneath himself as his mother sat up to lick his ears. She seemed ghostly, the shadows of her ribs visible even through her fluffy pelt.

Protect them. 

Clenching his jaw with a new flood of determination, Shrewpaw focused his sight on the puddle, only a few tail lengths in front of him. Realizing he couldn’t walk normally, he decided to switch his method. 

He raised his left front paw again, but moved his back legs forward instead, finding himself in an awkward, bunched up position. He jolted forward, stretching as far as he could and landing on his right front paw, careful not to let the left touch the ground. He scrunched up again, then repeated his forward motion, panting at the effort it took. An ache spread through his back left leg where bruises patterned his skin, but he continued on, limp after limp, towards the puddle. 

He gritted his teeth, eyes locked on his target, inching closer and closer with each awkward step.

“Shrewpaw, what are you doing?!” Gasped Ferncloud, scrambling to her feet and racing towards him. “Be careful! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Shrewpaw took one more step, but slipped, crashing towards the ground.

Just before he hit the dust, gray fur cushioned his fall. 

He expected to look up to see Ferncloud’s concerned face, but instead, Sootfur stared back at him.

“Easy, easy.” Sootfur carefully lowered Shrewpaw to the ground, tail curling. “Are you alright?”

Shrewpaw barely heard him; instead, his focus had been drawn to his reflection ripple in the puddle.

He’d known he’d taken the brunt of the damage on his left side, and of course he’d seen the wounds, albeit blurrily, when Cinderpelt had changed the dressing —but looking down at himself, seeing what his Clanmates saw, he felt… deflated.

His left eye was bloodshot at the edges, giving him the look of a wild, sick animal. There were cuts on his muzzle, face, and jaw where large tufts of fur would never grow back. His left ear was torn, and the skin directly underneath it was too. Lacerations decorated his left side, and where fur was missing or thin, he could see the black and blue bruising despite several days having passed since he’d woken up.

Ferncloud had finally caught up to him, her tongue finding its usual place between his ears. “Are you alright?!”

Shrewpaw nodded, choking down his disgust in his own visage. He squoze his eyes closed, and dipped down to lap at the puddle. As he opened his eyes to look again, he dug his claws into the dust, ears flattening, and grimaced.

“It’s going to be okay.” Ferncloud tried to comfort him.

He didn’t believe her.

“I’m a liability.” The words left his mouth before he even realized what he was saying.

“Don’t you dare say that!” Ferncloud fussed.

Shrewpaw tried to struggle up again, limbs shaking, trying to get back to the makeshift medicine den. Unable to gather enough strength and focus to get back into the swing of his previous walk, Shrewpaw began to crawl, feeling the eyes of his Clanmates boring down on him.

“You need to just stop and lie down!” Ferncloud tried to walk beside him. “You’re going to hurt yourself even worse.”

Birchkit’s cries stopped her in her tracks, her maternal instinct pulling both ways.

“Go on to him.” Sootfur nodded to her. “I’ll make sure Shrewpaw gets to Cinderpelt and relaxes.”

Ferncloud gave him a grateful look, and blinked over at Shrewpaw. “Just let me know if you need me.”

Shrewpaw wheezed in acknowledgment, leaning against Sootfur. The warrior led Shrewpaw to Cinderpelt’s makeshift den, but the Medicine Cat still wasn’t there.

They both sat, and Shrewpaw rested his head, trying to keep the despair at bay. All hope he’d had seemed to gush out like mud between his toes.

“You’re not a liability.” Sootfur’s voice shook slightly, breaking the silence. “Or if you are, we all are in our own way.”

Shrewpaw scoffed and pinned his ears. “Easy for you to say. I’m cursed to live in the elder’s den. You’re a fit warrior with your life ahead of you. You’re not someone who will be whispered about for as long as you live because of the scars.”

Sootfur scowled. “You say that, but why do you think my brother and sister could go on the rescue and I was discouraged from going? Pay attention to how they tiptoe around me. Not all scars are visible Shrewpaw; they see me as a liability too.”

What does he mean? Shrewpaw tilted his head curiously at the gray tom.

“Nevermind.” Sootfur looked away bashfully, his tail flicking. “Anyways, at least you’re brave enough to act. You’ve always been decisive; I admire you for that at the very least.”

“Thank you.” Shrewpaw sighed, watching his Clanmates with heavy eyes. “Do you think they’ll leave me behind?”

“We’re not sure we’ll even leave… Firestar wants to make sure every Clan is on board…” Sootfur shifted uncomfortably. “But if we do decide to go, I doubt you’d be left behind. Your parents and brothers would never leave you. I don’t think Squirrelpaw would either —at the very least she’d throw a tantrum so Firestar would think twice. Besides, Cinderpelt would have to come, and she limps too.”

“Her injury is a lot older than mine, she knows how to get around.” Shrewpaw said gloomily. “You saw how I failed.”

“I saw how you were doing great at first. You just got distracted.” Sootfur stretched nervously and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll walk with you whenever you need so you won’t have to worry about falling, but I think if your focus wasn’t broken, you’d have been able to do it yourself.”

Shrewpaw twitched his tail side-to-side, but felt a whisper of relief. He wasn’t sure why Sootfur was comforting him, considering his reputation for being pessimistic and snappy. Part of him thought it was out of pity, but another part wasn’t so sure. Maybe he just needs a friend too.

Shrewpaw loosened his grip on his anguish. He figured that, even with the world crumbling around him, that there was still room to have a conversation with a Clanmate. “Did you ever get to try any of that pheasant?”

“No. I wanted to, but there were better cats to give it to.” Sootfur meowed, watching the clouds in the sky. “I’m sure it was delicious. It really helped strengthen the Clan.”

“That’s all I want to be able to do…” Shrewpaw smiled wryly. “Does it ever bother you that all we’re able to talk about is food and stress?”

Sootfur pondered for a moment. “Let’s talk about something else then.” He meowed decisively.

Shrewpaw went quiet. It had been so long since there had been an “anything else” to talk about.
Sootfur seemed to have the same thought pass through his head, so they both sat, silent, gazing off out into the clearing.

“I’ll go find Cinderpelt for you.” Sootfur broke the silence before it could become too awkward. “She should check you over after that stumble.”

“You don’t have to go out of your way to do that.” Shrewpaw licked at his chest bashfully. “I’ll be okay if I wait.”

“No, no, it's fine, really.” Sootfur stood and stretched. “I don’t like being here anyways. It brings up… well, things I’d rather not relive. I’d be happy to get away for a bit, and feel useful for once.”

“Well… thank you.” Shrewpaw blinked slowly. “I appreciate you helping me.”

“Any time.” Sootfur raised his tail in a friendly manner. “I’ll go get the elders to keep you company until then.” With that, he bounded off towards Speckletail, Goldenflower, and Frostfur, who were trying to soak up some sunlight. He meowed something to them, before running off into the trees.

Though Longtail was technically an elder too, and was treated with just as much respect as the old queens, due to him only being a few seasons older than Firestar, he wasn’t usually included when someone mentioned “the elders”. He was likely busy with Mousefur anyways, so Shrewpaw didn’t mind him not coming with the other three to greet him.

The trio of she-cats padded towards Shrewpaw, blinking softly at him. 

Frostfur flopped beside him, Goldenflower finding a loafing position, and Speckletail eased herself down as if it were painful.

“How are you, Shrewpaw?” Frostfur’s icy blue eyes focused on his facial injuries in concern.

“Fantastic.” He twitched his nose, trying to inject his voice with humor to hide how bad the pain really was. In spite of his earlier resolve, he was really starting to wish for poppyseeds by now.

Though Goldenflower and Frostfur didn’t drop their worry, Speckletail seemed almost amused, snorting at his comment. It seemed that she was more lively than usual, lacking her usual troubled and aloof demeanor. 

“I’m glad you haven’t joined us yet.” Frostfur admitted. “Too many young cats being permanently injured these past seasons. First Longtail losing his sight in such a terrible way, and now you in the state you’re in.”

“Well, with all respect, I’m going to try as hard as I can to stay out of the elder’s den for as long as possible. Besides, I don’t have the wisdom for the job.” Mused the tom. “I wouldn’t have run into the Thunderpath if I had!”

“If you do find it’s too hard to continue on as a warrior however, I’ll welcome you into the den with open paws and a soft nest.” Goldenflower chimed in with a motherly purr.

Shrewpaw made note of her use of “I” instead of “we”, but didn’t press her, figuring she was just avoiding speaking for all of them.

The golden she-cat continued sniffing him worriedly. “We saw you trying to walk earlier… How do you feel about it?”

“I’m worried about traveling.” He admitted, wincing as he stretched out his front legs. “I don’t know how I’m going to physically handle it if we leave.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about it.” Speckletail snorted.

“What do you mean?” Shrewpaw tilted his head, brow furrowing with worry. “Are you okay?”

The three elder queens exchanged glances, before Frostfur spoke. “Speckletail and I are planning to stay here.” The whiteish she-cat admitted, bowing her head. 

“No!” Shrewpaw cried. “You can’t do that! The Clan needs your wisdom! Does Cinderpelt, Brightheart, Brackenfur and Thornclaw know?”

“No, not yet.” Frostfur meowed softly, looking out at her Clanmates. “They’d throw a fit if they did, I don’t plan on telling them until they have no choice but to continue on; I don’t want them pausing their lives for me.”

“I don’t get why you don’t go with them.” Grumbled Speckletail, speaking for the first time in what felt to Shrewpaw like forever. 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Frostfur turned to her. “Lionheart wouldn’t have left you. I want to honor him.”

“I’m tired. I wouldn’t make the trip if I tried.” Speckletail’s voice broke. Her amber eyes were dull, filled with exhaustion and despair. She took a shaky breath in. “I was born here, both of my parents died in a famine much like this one. I watched my adoptive parents die, I helped bury them here. I buried my sister here. My mate.” A choked sound caught in her throat as she looked to Goldenflower. “I buried three of my kits. I don’t have a reason to leave.”

“Mother, please—” Goldenflower licked Speckletail’s forehead in concern.

“—No Goldenflower.” She sighed. “I’ve made up my mind, I’m okay with my fate.”

“Maybe I should stay after all.” The golden she-cat wavered. “To look after you.”

“You better not!” Speckletail snapped. “It’s bad enough that Frostfur is being so stubborn —I’d prefer she leave too as the mother of my grandkits— I won’t watch my last child suffer. Go with your son. I’m old, it’s okay.”

Goldenflower backed off, a torn look on her face, but nodded.

Speckletail smiled for what Shrewpaw realized was the first time he’d seen her do so during his entire lifetime, a strange juxtaposition to the plan she’d just revealed. “I’ll be alright.” She assured Goldenflower again. “I’ll be glad to go out on my own terms, instead of forcing myself to go, being a burden to the Clan…”

She’s making good points. He realized, heart sinking. He’d been worrying so much about being left behind, that he hadn’t stopped to wonder if that would be the best option. He thought of Brindleface for a moment, hearing her words echo through his head. I know she said they needed me… but what if the only way to protect them is to let them go? Shrewpaw swallowed, looking at his paws. Lacerated, bruised, the left being so crooked even with the sticks in place to keep it as straight as possible… maybe if there was no upcoming journey, he’d be able to recover, but it was going to be too soon. He’d slow the whole Clan down.

 “I think… I think I should stay too.”

A cacophony of scolding shouts boomed from the three she-cats, the volume and anger of their tones causing pain in Shrewpaw’s ear. 

“I’ve become a burden!” Shrewpaw tried to talk over the yelling, flattening his ears and squinting his eyes. “I want what’s best for my family. Wouldn’t it be better for them if I just stay—”

“—NO!” All three of the elders yowled in unison, before going back to their disjointed chiding.

“You shouldn’t think like that.” Frostfur gently cuffed him over the ear, scolding him. “They need you.”

“Mother, what are you doing smacking my patient around?” 

The four cats turned, surprised to see Cinderpelt staring at them with amusement. Shrewpaw hadn’t heard her approach, and it seemed that the elders hadn’t either.

“Oh, you know young cats.” Frostfur tried to brush the situation aside. “Always having something mouse-brained to say.”

“Frostfur and Speckletail are planning to stay here!” Shrewpaw blurted.

“You’re WHAT?!”

The shouting match started up again, this time led by Cinderpelt.

Flinching back from the noise, Shrewpaw awkwardly backed away from the argument he’d accidentally caused. His skin seemed to burn under his fur from the wide-eyed stares of Clanmates witnessing the whole ordeal, and all he wanted now was to hide under a rock somewhere.

Instead of dying down, the chaos seemed to explode throughout the entire camp. The end of Shrewpaw’s tail puffed up as he glanced around, startled by the sudden uproar. There’s no way just the elders caused this, is there?!

It only took a moment for him to realize he was right; the Clan’s focus had been taken off of the squabble entirely, now centered around the patrol bounding back into camp, wafting the scent of distress along with them.

Panic hit Shrewpaw like a contagion, and he sat up, stretching his neck as tall as it could go to look over the crowd to see what had happened.

He could see Squirrelpaw —good— as well as Leafpaw and the other captured cats. He quickly scanned the cats, looking for any injuries— anything that could’ve caused the sense of alarm they were exuding. He narrowed his eyes, trying to clear his vision up enough to count. Squirrelpaw, Leafpaw, Brightheart, Cloudtail, Thornclaw, Brambleclaw, Rainwhisker, Sorreltail… wait, where’s—

A caterwaul from Cloudtail broke through the confused muttering of the Clan. 

“GRAYSTRIPE HAS BEEN TAKEN!”

Chapter 4: Ends Become Beginnings

It was happening. 

Shrewpaw stood, leaning against Squirrelpaw, and stared out at the desolation of the forest. The once verdant, magical landscape now lay barren and hollow as an exoskeleton of a molted bug. It seemed so empty without the Fourtrees standing tall and proud, so dull without the teeming life that had once inhabited it. 

The Clans had finally been convinced to leave after the poisoning of the river and the destruction of ShadowClan’s territory.

Speaking of which…

Shrewpaw gently bumped his head against Squirrelpaw’s shoulder as they turned to leave. She’d been trying not to show it, but he knew she was shaken up after what had happened in ShadowClan. Firestar losing a life in such a gruesome way in front of her had to have been traumatizing, even if he’d gotten up afterwards.

“So, it's really safe there?” 

“And beautiful too.” Squirrelpaw nodded, the crinkles of worry fading from her expression as she described their destination. “There’s a Great Lake where the sun reflects on the water in a brilliant red. Fresh air, soft grass, and plentiful prey everywhere. There's vast stretches of territory we can settle in and make our own.”

It wasn’t the first time Shrewpaw had asked her about the lake territories, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. It wasn’t that he ever forgot what she said; he just liked hearing her talk about something so passionately. It distracted both of them from their woes, and the place sounded like something straight out of a dream. He wanted so badly to make it there…

He wasn’t sure he could.

Don’t think like that. He could almost hear the chorus of friends and family scolding him in his head; Squirrelpaw, Ferncloud, Dustpelt, Cinderpelt, Thornclaw, Sootfur, Whitepaw— maybe not all of his Clanmates believed in him, but many did. He had to focus on that.

The leaders called for the traveling party to go.

Coaxed by Squirrelpaw’s gentle nudging, Shrewpaw got to his feet and stepped forward.

His heart ached. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn around, to bound back towards his home; the place where he was born and loved so deeply, where he played in the soft, milk-scented nursery with Spiderpaw, Squirrelpaw, Leafpaw, and Whitepaw, where he trained alongside his friends and brother, and had learned to be a selfless warrior and to follow the Code from Thornclaw, and to hunt and defend his Clan at any cost. It was where his mother had groomed his fur until he fell asleep, where his grandmother had told him tales of times long passed, and he had experienced his first snowfall. It was where his siblings had been born while he stayed by his mother’s side as support, and he witnessed them come into the world and immediately loved them with all of his soul.

Where he’d buried his sisters.

He’d visited their graves one last time, had left flowers he knew would be crumpled or blown away or rotted over time. He wished he could replace them with new ones whenever that happened, to prove to them that he still loved them, but he had to let go. Those were just bodies. Just bones.

He couldn’t carry that with him, but he could carry the memories, and that would have to be enough.

Each step hurt, but the pain wasn’t as intense as it had been. He still couldn’t put any weight on his front left leg, but he’d started to get the hang of limping about.

Most of the cats were quiet, mourning their lost home and Clanmates. Many of the elders had stayed behind, worried they’d slow down their Clanmates, and wanting to die in the place they’d lived the entirety of their lives.

Entouraged by her kits, Frostfur passed by Shrewpaw, casting a glare of mixed emotions at him. Her expression held anger, grief, relief, distrust, annoyance, gratefulness, hope… She was mad that he’d narced to Cinderpelt, but at least she was here.

Speckletail had stayed. 

Try not to think about it.

She’d be so hungry by now. Could she even hunt? Would it be too hard on her body?

Don’t think about it.

How long until she’d starve?

Don’t.

“I think I like Brambleclaw.” Squirrelpaw blurted out in a whisper, staring at the warrior in question as he laughed with his sister, Tawnypelt of ShadowClan.

Shaken from his worries, Shrewpaw grimaced reflexively. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Squirrelpaw raised a paw to her chest. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“But… why?!” He just couldn’t wrap his head around the concept. Brambleclaw was so hard headed and strong willed, which wouldn’t have been a problem if not for Squirrelpaw being the same exact way. He could already visualize them quarreling, both too stubborn to back down, and wondered how on earth she found any of that appealing. Maybe it was his good looks? “Sure, he’s a handsome dark brown tabby with broad shoulders and amber eyes, but there’s like, a million of those.”

“It’s not just that!” The ginger she-cat huffed, her shoulders going slack. “It’s who he is! We bonded a lot on the journey… I know his exterior is a bit stoic and prickly, but he’s actually so thoughtful sometimes, and brave, and strong— sure, he can be high and mighty, but he can also be a sensitive soul.”

“Sensitive or not, he has an attitude that I don’t think meshes well with yours.” Grass crunched under his steps as he glared at Brambleclaw. What he really wanted to say, was that the big tabby was a jerk, but he figured that treading lightly was the best course of action in that moment.

“He’s been through a lot!” Squirrelpaw wrinkled her nose. “He just needs someone to be good to him, and he’ll be good back!”

“I’m sure he will.” Muttered Shrewpaw sarcastically, his tail tip flicking back and forth.

Squirrelpaw stopped in her tracks. “Why do you dislike him so much?!”

“I never said—”

“—Oh come on Shrewpaw,” Squirrelpaw bristled, “You don’t exactly try to hide it.”

“Fine,” Shrewpaw hissed. “I don’t like him. Everything about him rubs me the wrong way, so I don’t like that you two have gotten so chummy.”

Squirrelpaw turned away with a mutter. “At least I can count on him.”

“What?!”

“StarClan Shrewpaw, our friendship was great before you went and tattled about Brambleclaw. I’m glad you’re okay, but we’ve been having issues for a while! I feel like I can’t tell you secrets anymore!” Squirrelpaw snapped in frustration, lowering her fluffy tail in betrayal. “Why’d you have to go and tell on me to my dad?”

The brown apprentice recoiled at the harsh words. “Because, he’s a warrior and you were barely an apprentice, he’s too old for you, and—”

“—and what?” Anger glittered in her eyes, as if she were expecting what he’d say next.

Shrewpaw hissed in a breath, his lung hurting from the action. He spoke slowly, trying to choose his words as carefully as he could. “He’s a…bad influence on you.”

A look of hurt came to Squirrelpaw’s face, which quickly became defensiveness. “He is not his father.”

Before Shrewpaw could formulate a response, she was already gone, running to Brambleclaw’s side without another word. 

He tried to swallow down the bitter jealousy rising in his chest when he saw the glimmer of affection in her emerald eyes. He wanted her to look at him like that. 

Just take a breath… He ordered himself, choosing to shift away his focus from his friend’s romantic shenanigans. She’s going to do whatever she’s going to do: she’s Squirrelpaw after all.

The walk felt as though it were beginning to drag forever; over the moorlands, through the dying heather, ever forward in the endless ruined fields. 

By the time they’d left WindClan’s territory behind, the travelling herbs Shrewpaw had eaten earlier that day were beginning to wear off. He was starting to fall behind, watching as cats passed him by with pitying glances or averted eyes. The looks only fueled his desire to keep up, so he gritted his teeth and bore it through the fatigue.

Head down, one step after another eyes blurring over the dead grass, working ear ringing, he just kept going.

“Hey, you’re starting to fall behind.” Sootfur’s voice caused Shrewpaw to snap back into attention.

“I didn’t notice.” Sarcasm dripped from the brown apprentice, which he began to regret almost immediately. “Sorry, I’m just… I was fighting with Squirrelpaw, my body aches, I’m in a bad mood, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sootfur flicked his tail nonchalantly. “Ferncloud was wanting to come check on you, but Birchkit has been fussy and needs to be carried. I told her I’d come back here and stay with you until we get to the barn. It shouldn’t be much further.” 

Short of breath, Shrewpaw nodded in understanding. “The journey is going to be rough on the kits.”

“It’ll be worth it.” Sootfur glanced up at the sky, whiskers twitching. “I was thinking about what you said the other day, about how all we talk about is food, grief, and survival. I think I’ve figured out what to talk about instead.”

“And what’s that?” Shrewpaw wheezed, ribs aching. 

“Leaves.”

“Leaves?!”

Sootfur shrugged bashfully. It was still odd seeing the usually prickly cat show some vulnerability. “Yeah, I mean… I used to collect them. I started when I was an apprentice, after... Well, I’d take the ones that are the most interesting shapes and colors, keep them under my nest to pull them out and look at them. When I’m feeling upset, I would take them out and try to think of every single detail about them; the shape, any notches, the veins, the subtle shifts in the hues or speckles of brown. It helped get my mind off of things.”

Shrewpaw listened, head tilted, and then responded curiously; “Don’t they rot away?”

“Eventually, but everything does.” Sootfur shook his pale gray pelt. “That’s part of the beauty of it I think. There’s still a few back in camp —well, back where we used to live— that I wish I could’ve brought. A maple leaf with the edge of one of the points torn. A yellow tinted oak leaf with six brown speckles on the bottom of one side. A willow leaf...”

“Well, when we get where we’re going, I’m sure you’ll have lots of new leaves to collect. I look forward to seeing them all.” Shrewpaw meowed softly, touching his nose to Sootfur’s shoulder encouragingly.

The duo walked quietly for a while, exchanging a whisper here and there about the landscape and the cats around them. They stayed near the back, Sootfur seeming to lack even a drop of impatience, which made it easier for Shrewpaw to accept his slow pace.

Still, he began to wish he could stop, and was about to tell Sootfur to go on ahead so he could rest and catch up later, when he finally saw the barn in the distance.

Shrewpaw nearly collapsed the moment he entered the barn. 

The thick, warm smell of the straw strewn on the floor and rafters permeated the air, as did the faint hint of mice. Low sunlight danced in a beam through the dust particles above. Clan cats mulled around the enclosure, scooping together nests in piles of hay and conversing quietly among themselves.

Standing with the Clan leaders, two tomcats stood side by side, their tails twined together. The skinner of the two, mostly black furred with a white dash on his chest, was conversing intently with Firestar, while the other brushed against him supportively.

Ravenpaw and Barley. Shrewpaw pulled from foggy memories of his uncle and his “friend” visiting ThunderClan a long time ago, when he was just a kit. He remembered how kind the duo was to him, how they’d played and told stories, and had helped keep ThunderClan safe from the BloodClan threat Shrewpaw had grown up hearing about. He’d admired their teamwork, and realized with a sudden jolt that Barley was Ravenpaw’s mate. It was almost funny that he’d only just thought of it long enough to make the connection!

Ravenpaw craned his neck over Firestar’s shoulder at Dustpelt and the rest of Shrewpaw’s family, excusing himself and approaching.

Shrewpaw figured he should do the same, limping up so his conversing family with a trill.

Ravenpaw turned, mouth opening to greet him, but instead a look of shock came to his green eyes, melding into heartache. “StarClan.” He whispered, gently tapping his head against his nephew’s. 

“I know, it looks bad doesn’t it? A monster got to me.” Shrewpaw explained, easing himself down next to Ferncloud, who instantly began licking his ear. “But I survived.”

“The same can’t be said about our daughters.” A tremble came to Dustpelt’s voice, and he curled his tail protectively around Birchkit. “We had two in the same litter as Birchkit: Hollykit and Larchkit. We lost them to the great hunger.”

“I’m so sorry.” Ravenpaw embraced his brother, and then turned to Ferncloud, placing a paw over hers. “You’re my kin. I already talked to Barley, and if you’d like, you’re welcome to stay here with us. There’s plenty of food and space, so if you don’t want to make the journey, you have a place here.”

“Thank you,” Dustpelt gave his brother a dry, wry look. “I appreciate the offer, I do, but our place is with ThunderClan.”

“I understand. Just know that the offer won’t be rescinded if you change your mind.”

The family quietly expressed their gratitude, soft blinking at each other, until Ravenpaw padded away with quiet footsteps.

Shrewpaw watched as the black tom curled up next to Barley, seeming to melt into the warmth of the bigger tom’s fluff. He heaved a visible sigh, snuggling closer as Barley licked his forehead lovingly and touched their noses together.

I wish I could have that with Squirrelpaw. He thought wistfully. I’ll always put our friendship first, but still… It was a nice thought, a daydream really.

Apprentices from all Clans had gathered in one corner, including Spiderpaw.

Shrewpaw went through the painstaking process of getting up, and made his way over to them. He’d been wanting to talk to his littermate, but Spiderpaw had been distant since the accident, and he didn’t understand why. At first, he’d thought maybe his brother had just been busy with the family, too tired for small talk… but it was becoming increasingly obvious that he was willingly avoiding him; even as Shrewpaw approached the apprentice huddle, Spiderpaw averted his eyes and shied away.

Why are you being like this?! Shrewpaw began to reach a paw out, heart aching, but Spiderpaw turned his whole back to his brother without saying a word of acknowledgement.

“You’re alive!” An awestruck apprentice chimed from behind Shrewpaw. He was a tiny ball of dark gray fluff, one of the younger apprentices with round eyes and the scent of ShadowClan.

A bolt of recognition hit Shrewpaw. “You’re the cat who warned me on the Thunderpath!” He realized aloud. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you…”

“Smokepaw. My name’s Smokepaw.” The young cat introduced himself, eyes big and round. “I was worried you might’ve died. You weren’t exactly in good shape when I last saw you. I didn’t know how to find out if you’d make it, and my mentor told me you probably wouldn’t… I’m glad he was wrong.”

“Well, thanks to you, he is, and I’m still here. Thank you Smokepaw.” He tucked his three good legs underneath himself in a semi-loaf, laying his bad foreleg out straight and stiff. “I’m Shrewpaw by the way.”

As night —and by extension, the temperature— fell, Shrewpaw settled into his makeshift nest, listening to the other apprentices swapping stories about their Clans with pricked ears. Smokepaw in particular shivered during his recounting, having almost been killed by a falling tree, and pressed himself close to his brother, Talonpaw.

Spiderpaw hadn’t spoken a word, his back turned towards the apprentices, and Shrewpaw knew he was only pretending to sleep. 

As a whisper of cold brushed against his fur, Shrewpaw yearned to get back the closeness they once had, like Smokepaw and Talonpaw, and to cozy up against his skinny spine for comfort and heat.

He was at least glad to be inside Ravenpw’s barn, instead of outside, where the chill must’ve been much worse.

To Shrewpaw’s surprise, Squirrelpaw settled down next to him wordlessly, her fluffy ginger fur warm and soft against his own.

“Hey. Are you still mad at me?” Shrewpaw whispered, laying his head on her shoulder.

“Not really ‘mad’ anymore… still kinda upset, it’s complicated.” Squirrelpaw returned the gesture, snuggling closer. “But I know you just try to look out for me, and other than Leafpaw, you’re like, my best friend. I don’t ever want to stay in a fight with you.”

“I can agree with that.” He closed his eyes, drinking in the scent of Squirrelpaw’s fur. So familiar and comforting, smells of the forest, of ThunderClan. She smelled of home, yet of places far away and wild. Adventure and windswept mountains, and of gentle memories and warmth.

She was his Barley.

Chapter 5: Hazy

Soreness curled its way through Shrewpaw’s paw pads, stinging him like nettles. He was limping harder than usual on the stony path; the hard terrain sent miserable aches through his bones, and he’d needed to take breaks more and more frequently.

Sootfur and Cinderpelt hadn’t let him fall behind though, and Thornclaw went back and forth to check on him for the sake of Ferncloud, and although his mentor wouldn’t admit it, for his own worry as well. Ferncloud herself was near the middle of the caravan with the other queens and kits, sandwiched safely between warriors to stay safe, and Dustpelt was by her side as always. Squirrelpaw had also made her visits, but was often preoccupied helping lead the way with Brambleclaw.

“I have to take a break.” Shrewpaw wheezed, stopping for a moment. Everything burned. Traveling like this, so soon after his accident, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Let me check your wounds.” Cinderpelt sat next to him, gazing over the injuries.

Shrewpaw stared out at the breathtaking surroundings. Though half of his vision was still blurry and strange, he admired the beauty of the mountainside. In the forest, there were always trees to confine his sightline, and even WindClan’s flat moors only had so far one could see. From up here, everything looked so small, and yet so vast and plentiful. The world was bigger than imaginable; trees being specks, far off mountains, and from the sheer drop of the cliff, a depth he’d never comprehended before. The gorge back home was one thing: this was entirely different

“I don’t want to be left behind.” He said after a moment when he caught his breath.

“I wouldn’t let them.” Cinderpelt snorted lightheartedly. “I’ll stop the whole group if I need to.”

He trembled, despite trying to hold as still as he could while Cinderpelt pawed at the fur around his injuries, likely checking to make sure none were infected and that the bruises were fading. 

“I don’t think we have enough time for a full checkup, I just needed to rest my legs… It’s hard to walk like this.”

“I know, better than anyone. It gets easier with time.” Cinderpelt looked him in the eyes, a tiny look of worry on her face. “How well can you see?”

“Well enough.” Shrewpaw replied curtly, tail flicking towards the cliff side.

“That’s not what I mean. Can you see any better on your hurt side?”

Shrewpaw didn’t respond. He didn’t want to admit it, but his sight had gone downhill since the accident instead of getting better.

Cinderpelt held up a paw, covering Shrewpaw’s afflicted eye. “How can you see now?”

“Better.” He realized immediately. Although he couldn’t see the other side of him, what he could see was clearer.

“How about now?” She covered his good eye.

He took a deep breath, not wanting to tell her how bad it was. Although no longer bloody, it felt like there was a thick fog in front of his eye, obscuring everything around him and dark around the edges.

Instead of answering, he asked a question. “Am I going to go blind?”

“Maybe, in that eye,” She admitted. “There was a lot of damage to that side of your body.”

Shrewpaw breathed deeply, trying to come to terms with the news. After a moment, he exhaled. “Brightheart could do it.” He meowed. “So can I.”

“Yes she did.” Emotion filled Cinderpelt’s face at the mention of her sister. Shrewpaw had heard the stories of what had happened to both of them, and that Cinderpelt had been the one to tend to Brightheart as best she could.

If he couldn’t see out of that eye, he’d be like Brightheart. If he could never walk on his front leg again, he’d be like Cinderpelt. They were two strong she-cats to look up to; being like them would be an honor rather than a shame.

This accident won’t stop me.

He struggled back up, leaning on the silent Sootfur for help.

It didn’t take too long to catch up to the rest of the cats. 

After a while, a nervousness took hold of Shrewpaw as the path became narrower. The sharp drop he’d been ogling earlier now had a sinister aura to it. His fur prickled around his shoulders, and he began to worry about his off-kilter balance.

“What do you think these tribe cats will be like?” Sootfur meowed, pressing himself as far from the ledge as possible.

“Squirrelpaw said they seem like good cats.” Shrewpaw meowed, ears flicking. “They’ll probably feed us.

“Good, I’m starving. What kind of freshkill do you think—“

A loud crack and rumble interrupted the toms’ conversation.

Shrewpaw’s eyes locked on the crumbling cliffside; cats yowled and jumped out of the way, most dodging the chaos, but one cat wasn’t so lucky.

SMOKEPAW!

Shrieking, Smokepaw managed to catch his front paws at the crumbling ledge. His back legs scrabbled for a hold, but all it accomplished was unsettling the earth more.

Shrewpaw darted forwards as Smokepaw’s paws began to slip, but stopped short, realizing that more weight could break the ledge and the dark gray apprentice would fall to his death.

Russetfur started to make a move, horror in her eyes. The ShadowClan deputy was huge, and pure muscle, so if she got too close—

“—RUSSETFUR STOP!” Shrewpaw yowled. “You’re too heavy!”

She went rigid, her body clearly straining towards the young, terrified cat. She opened and closed her mouth, torn.

“If you go to him, you’ll break the ledge!” Shrewpaw cried out. “You won’t be able to get close enough to grab him if that happens, he’ll just fall!”

One of Smokepaw’s paws slipped completely, and he wailed out. 

Nightwing, who was evidently his mother, started to lunge forward too, but Stormfur held her back. “My kit!” She shrieked. “He’ll fall if we don’t help him.”

“He’ll fall if you do, and you’ll fall too, the ledge won’t hold your weight either!” Shrewpaw shook, scrabbling through his scattered mind to find a way to help Smokepaw. 

What can we do?!

Shrewpaw crouched, remembering that Thornclaw had told him that crawling better distributed a cat’s weight in a dire situation. He was smaller than average, and lightweight compared to the muscular cats close enough to do anything on the narrow path. If he could get close enough, he may not break the rest of the ledge.

IF he could get close enough. The downside to his skinny frame was that he lacked the strength the others had, and he wasn’t sure he could physically pull Smokepaw up even if he got there in time. Then, the other outcome would be that he’d send one or both of them into the abyss below. Shrewpaw wasn’t sure he could…

Smokepaw’s eyes locked with his; fear, and trust.

Determination filled Shrewpaw’s heart, and he began to crawl towards the edge. His instincts screamed to give up, but whisker length by whisker length, he got closer to the edge.

The cries of Nightwing behind him burned in his ear, the same desperate wails Ferncloud had made when Shrewpaw had been injured. He thought of Larchkit and Hollykit, couldn’t bear to hear the mourning screams of another mother. 

Smokepaw seemed too petrified to do anything but breathe rapidly as his last paw lost more and more grip.

The ground underneath Shrewpaw felt precarious now. His progress was agonizingly slow. 

Almost. Almost.

He reached his good paw over the edge, but it only brushed against Smokepaw’s loose foot.

Smokepaw was only holding on by his claws now, and was looking over his shoulder at the fall below, reeking of terror and dismay.

Almost.

The edges of the ledge came off in pebbles. Still he pulled his paw back and crept forward.

Almost!

Smokepaw’s paw finally slipped.

Shrewpaw darted his head forward, biting in blind desperation.  

His teeth connected with fur and skin.

With a heave of effort, Shrewpaw dragged Smokepaw up by his scruff, feeling the earth give way under his own paws as they scrambled back. 

He felt teeth on his own tail, claws digging into his haunches, and he was pulled back to safety with Smokepaw in tow.

He hit the ground of the path on his right side, wheezing as breath was knocked out of him, and let go of Smokepaw’s scruff.

He looked up to see the remainder of the ledge they’d been on give way, and let out a shaky breath.

His heart pounded rapidly, and he swiveled his head to Smokepaw, meeting his gaze with relief.

“Thank you!” Nightwing ran to her son’s side, licking him frantically. “My kit, my baby, my Smokepaw, thank StarClan!”

Standing, Shrewpaw felt the sting in his tail and haunches, and turned to see Russetfur, Sootfur, and Blackstar. They’d each gripped onto him to pull the pair back from the brink.

He gave a nod of thanks, still trying to catch his breath against his aching ribs.

Everyone was staring at him, eyes wide.

“You…” Finally, it was Russetfur who spoke, her tone bewildered. “You saved him.”

Notes:

So, the first big life-or-death change brought on by Shrewpaw! Smokepaw is such a minor character that it doesn’t seem to hold that much weight yet, but remember, everyone’s choices matter…

Chapter 6: Sinking

“That’s the last big jump we need to make before the trail becomes less difficult; the tribe camp is very close now.” Squirrelpaw meowed from behind Shrewpaw, ear flicking slightly. The sunset lit her dark ginger pelt into a vibrant red, a halo of light shimmered through the edges of her furs in a fiery outline. She continued on. “I mean, it’s still not going to be fun after this, but if we can all make it over this, we’ll be able to make it the rest of the way to the lake.”

From where Shrewpaw stood, the gap between the path seemed to stretch on forever. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to make the jump; though his back legs were not nearly as injured as his front, and he could likely propel himself forward with them, his body still ached from his rescue of Smokepaw. He winced in advance, knowing that even if he did make it to the other side, the landing would hurt.

In front of him, Dustpelt cleared the jump with ease, carrying Birchkit with him. Ferncloud made it just as easily, as did Spiderpaw, who swiftly slunk away. Shrewpaw’s parents gave him an encouraging nod, gesturing for him to make the leap.

The air was much thinner up there; it was harder to fill his lungs enough to calm himself down. Breathing heavily, Shrewpaw swallowed, looking down at the chasm below. The drop was dizzying, and paired with the struggle to get in air, Shrewpaw thought he might lose his balance. Hyperventilating echoed in his ears, but he quickly realized it wasn’t his own.

The brown tom looked to the side, where Smokepaw stood, locked in place, fur brushing against Shrewpaw’s, eyes wide and flank trembling at the sight of the jump.

“It’s okay, you can do it.” Nightwing tried to comfort her son, licking his puffed up gray pelt. “It’s not too far, you just have to jump with me.”

“I can’t do it!” The gray apprentice gasped, chest heaving, the whites of his eyes flashing. “I’ll fall! I can’t do it!”

“Try to calm down Smokepaw. Please—” 

“—I’ll fall!” He cried, thrashing his head side to side. “I’ll fall! I can’t! I’ll fall!”

“Listen to me; you won’t fall.” Shrewpaw gently put his good front paw on the other tom’s shoulder, crouching slightly to try to look the frantic apprentice in the eye. “Look at me, take a deep breath. You. Won’t. Fall.”

Panting, Smokepaw did as he was told, keeping his green eyes locked on Shrewpaw’s. His flanks heaved, body trembling, but he took deep breaths.

“You won’t fall.” Shrewpaw repeated again, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as the young apprentice began to calm down. “I promise, you’ll make it. Watch, I’ll go first, and then your mother and you.”

Smokepaw slowed his ragged breathing, trust flooding his face.

Ever since his near death experience, the ShadowClan apprentice had been stuck to Shrewpaw like sap on fur. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to pry him away if he tried. The two’s fates had been entwined in an unexpected way; each having saved the other’s life. As far as Shrewpaw was concerned, this had cemented what he guessed would be a lifelong friendship and trust despite their separate clans.

Hopefully a long lifetime. He thought, peering back over the ledge, musing. Now I really have to make this jump, otherwise Smokepaw will be scarred for life.

Alright. I can do this.

Taking a breath, Shrewpaw shuffled back, preparing himself for a running start. He’d made it this far; he’d make it further.

Silently praying to StarClan, Shrewpaw bounded forward, pain shocking his bad leg with each stride, heart rate speeding up as he closed in on the distance to the edge. At the last second, he bunched his muscles, pushing off with as much might as his back legs could muster.

It felt, for a moment, as if he were flying.

He stretched his body out, front legs far ahead. Wind rushed against his fur, and he soared over the fall as if he had wings.

As quickly as it had happened though, he crashed into the ground on the other side of the jump, wheezing at the jarring pain that shot up his front leg. He collapsed in a whoosh of dust, feeling Ferncloud’s happy purrs rumbling as she plopped her head on top of his.

“Good job!” His mother congratulated him, happily licking his face. “The hard part is over!”

Gritting his teeth, Shrewpaw sat up, waving his tail across the chasm at Smokepaw. “SEE?” He called, trying to keep an upbeat demeanor. “IF I COULD DO IT, SO CAN YOU!”

This seemed to be enough to finally push Smokepaw forward. The gray tom approached the edge with his mother, visibly gulping and casting one last worried look up at Shrewpaw. With a wiggle of his haunches, Smokepaw leapt forward with Nightwing, clearing the jump and landing safely on the other side.

“Hey, I told you you wouldn’t fall, didn’t I?” Shrewpaw bonked his forehead against Smokepaw’s encouragingly. “You did it!”

Smokepaw let out a squeak, and nodded unsteadily. Then, without warning, he collapsed, shaking from the fright.

Nightwing cast Shrewpaw a look to let him know her son was okay, and carefully picked the apprentice up by his scruff as Smokepaw’s brother, Talonpaw, landed beside his family.

Squirrelpaw crossed next. 

Shrewpaw held his breath for a moment while he watched her, his heartbeat speeding up again as he worried about whether or not she’d make it.

As expected, she was perfectly fine, and landed next to Shrewpaw with a confident chirp, while Leafpaw wiggled her haunches and prepared to follow. 

“See?” Squirrelpaw ran her fluffy tail under Shrewpaw’s chin as she trotted past him. “Easy.”

“So, you were saying the tribe camp is close?” Shrewpaw began walking away with her, tail slumping with a tired laugh. “This is about as much hardship as I can handle in one d—”

There was a shriek behind him. 

Shrewpaw whipped around to see Leafpaw yowling in terror, ground crumbling beneath her back legs as she slipped backwards.

Before he or Squirrelpaw could rush in to help, Hawkfrost had leapt forward from the other side of the chasm.

The lean tabby colorpoint bound forward, muscles rippling as he arced through the sky. As he began to touch down, he gracefully twisted his body, snagging his teeth on Leafpaw’s scruff and pulling her forward with him. With one strong heave, the RiverClan tom had dragged Leafpaw to safety, and landed perfectly. 

Ice-blue eyes glinting, the handsome cat let go of Leafpaw’s scruff, grinning charmingly at the crowd who had seen his heroic stunt.

Squirrelpaw ran to her sister’s side, curling around her. “Oh thank StarClan you’re okay!”

“Or thank Hawkfrost.” Hawkfrost said in a teasing tone. He held out his paw to Leafpool and helped her to her paws, tilting his elegant head to the side in a way Shrewpaw guessed was supposed to seem humble. “All jokes aside, I’m just happy I could save a lovely medicine cat, it is a warrior’s duty after all.”

“Thank you.” Leafpaw gasped, shivering slightly.

“Any time.” Hawkfrost said with a shrug, turning away. “Let me know if you’re ever dangling off any cliffs again, I’ll come right away for you.”

“Are you alright?” Shrewpaw hobbled forward, concerned about his friend.

“Yes, just a scare.” Leafpaw bashfully licked her chest fur, glancing once more up at the leaving RiverClan tom.

Shrewpaw had been seeing a lot more of Hawkfrost since his parentage had been announced and he’d begun spending time with Brambleclaw, and Shrewpaw wasn’t happy about it. The pretty-tom bad-boy attitude was enough by itself, but the fact that his arrogance outmatched even his half-brother’s drove Shrewpaw crazy. And for some reason, all the she-cats in their age range were giddily mooning over him as if the charming courage wasn’t an obvious act: it was insufferable.

He liked Mothwing more. The newly known daughter of Tigerstar was a lot quieter than her brother, more down to earth, and as a medicine cat, had become close with Leafpaw lately.

She passed by at that moment, nodding in acknowledgement as she hurried after Hawkfrost with a tired look in her solemn, amber eyes.

No other casualties or perils reared their head by the time the cats gotten to the Tribe’s camp. Shrewpaw was grateful that not a single life had been lost in the journey so far. One ShadowClan kit had almost been stolen away by an Eagle, but Brackenfur had rescued the little one in a stunning display of true bravery.

Now THAT’S a cat who should be deputy. Shrewpaw thought, beginning to feel uneasy. I don’t think we’ll ever see Graystripe again, and we need someone stable and reliable during these times. Firestar shouldn’t be doing it all alone.

The tribe cats were just as welcoming and gracious as Squirrelpaw had told him they’d be. Most of their names rolled over Shrewpaw like the nearby waterfall, but he was grateful to their hospitality, and relieved that they provided food for each Clan cat.

He had just settled in with his family and Smokepaw’s, thanking a cat named Brook, who Stormfur seemed quite fond of, for the meal she’d brought over to him, when Cinderpelt approached.

“I know it’s a bit crowded over here, but I need to check you over after that jump. I have to make sure your bones are where they need to be.” Cinderpelt explained, her soft tail sweeping aside pebbles as she examined him.

Shrewpaw held his leg out straight for the medicine cat to check, obeying each order she gave to adjust.

“Well, the scratches from the other day healed quickly, and the bruising isn’t worse, so that’s good. Your ribs are in place as well as they can be,” She noted. “It’s a good thing you landed on your right side when you caught Smokepaw, otherwise it wouldn’t have ended well for your lungs in terms of not being punctured. As for your leg, the brace is holding still, it hasn’t refractured, but I don’t think it’ll end up healing quite right because of all the movement you’ve had to do. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Shrewpaw grunted and sat up. “I don’t thank you enough. You saved my life, and you’ve done your best to heal me as close to normal as I can get. A lesser medicine cat couldn’t have done it.”

“It’s my job.” She blinked in surprise. “There’ll never be a day where I don’t do everything in my power to save my Clanmates. I just wish I could do more.”

“You still deserve to be thanked.”

She dipped her head, and with that, she moved on to help other cats with a tireless vigor.

Shrewpaw swept his gaze along the gathered cats. Lea paw and Mothwing were handing out herbs together, with Hawkfrost trotting alongside them and chatting. He laughed after Leafpaw said something, and Shrewpaw felt the fur around his shoulders start to bristle at the unsettling coldness in the warrior’s eyes. They just didn’t match his demeanor. 

“What’s wrong?” Ferncloud curled her tail around her son, grooming the fur between his shoulders flat again.

“Nothing really.” Shrewpaw sighed, watching as Birchkit played with Dustpelt’s tail. “I do wish Spiderpaw would come over here.”

“I’ve talked to him about that.” A rare tone of frustration came to his mother’s gentle voice. “He’s been snappy with me, I think something is wrong with his feelings, and I don’t know what it is. I suppose we should just give him his space until he’s ready to talk about it.”

“I suppose.”

Squirrelpaw came bounding over, practically vibrating with energy the way she would when she had something she wanted to talk about.

Shrewpaw raised his brow.

“So,” She started, tail swishing, “Stormfur is staying here with Brook.”

Shrewpaw was surprised by this. He’d really give up everything he knew for love? He’s willing to start over somewhere unfamiliar, because his life is worth changing to be with her. Would I do the same? 

All it took was one look and Squirrelpaw to get the answer. 

Her flaming personality and tufts of fur, soft nose, emerald green eyes… The happy looks she gave him were like a breath of new-leaf, her voice as beautiful as rain in green-leaf… no cat could compare to her.

In a heartbeat.

“How do you feel about that?” He meowed, trying to get her to tell him without prying too hard.

“Weird. I mean, happy for him of course, but after the journey together…” She shook her pelt. “I guess I just got attached to the idea of all of us having this sense of comradery. I’ll miss him.” She lashed her tail, seeming to want to say more.

Shrewpaw was going to ask her, but realized she may get defensive with the lack of privacy coming from Shrewpaw’s entourage.

“Crowfeather.” She changed the subject. “I never thought a cat could choose their own name.”

“I don’t see why not.”

She shrugged, deep in thought. “It’s just that —Feathertail… He really must’ve cared for her.”

Something’s definitely on her mind.

“Let’s go for a walk. I’m just sure Cinderpelt definitely wants me to be walking around MORE.” Shrewpaw chirped as he stood up, his entourage clambering up after him. He stretched, casting them a glance, and all but Smokepaw settled back down; though Nightwing nudged her anxious son back to herself. The tribe’s leader, Stoneteller, had given Smokepaw something for his anxiety, but it clearly hadn’t kicked in yet.

Shrewpaw limped beside Squirrelpaw, taking shallow breaths of the cool dusk air. Insects hummed, the last of the light hazy blue sky fading behind the mountain peaks. They made their way to a flat ledge, slightly overlooking the crowded camp below.

“I can tell something’s eating at you.” Shrewpaw licked his uninjured paw and wiped it over his face. “You can tell me if you want to.”

Squirrelpaw stared down, laying her head on her front paws with a huff. “It’s stupid.”

“Even if it is, you’re still bugged by it, so it can’t be THAT stupid.” He teased, flicking his tail. 

“I think… I think Brambleclaw is going to ask me to be his mate. And I think I might say yes.”

His heart sank.

“But I’m not sure!” She added quickly. “I think about how Stormfur is staying with Brook, and how Crowfeather chose to be named in Feathertail’s honor, and I wonder… would he do that for me?”

“You deserve better than him.” Shrewpaw’s voice strained. 

“I don’t know.” She lashed her tail rapidly. “Because I don’t think I could do what Stormfur’s doing either if I were in his situation…”

“That just means you’re not a good fit together.”

“I knew you’d say something like that.” Squirrelpaw’s voice took a tone of irritation.

Shrewpaw twitched his tail. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“I don’t want to have this fight again. I don’t like fighting with you. Why can’t you just drop the Bramblehate for a minute.” She stood, her bushy tail fluffing up. “You always talk down about him instead of listening to what I have to say.”

“I don’t like the way he treats you.” Shrewpaw bristled. “THAT is why I don’t like him. It’s not his history, it isn’t his father, it's how he acts towards you. I just want you to be okay.”

“And why do you think that’s your right?!” Squirrelpaw snarled. “You don’t get a say in what I do with my life!”

“Then why tell me about your problems with him!”

“Because I just want my friend to LISTEN to me instead of making snide remarks about my future mate!” She shouted, claws unsheathed. “Is that so much to ask?? For you to just listen, let me vent without trying to do what you think is the solution without considering my thoughts?”

Shrewpaw opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. He took as deep of a breath as his ribs would allow, trying to calm himself. “I just. I think you deserve better. I think you should think this through…”

“Because what YOU think matters so much in what I do with MY life?!” Squirrelpaw let out a frustrated hiss. “You know what? Nevermind. I just wanted to talk to you, but you obviously can’t handle that.” She whipped around, beginning to stalk away.

Puffing up in distress, Shrewpaw stood to follow her. “Wait, I’m sorry, you’re right. We can talk, I’ll keep quiet and just listen.”

Squirrelpaw stopped.

Before she could say anything though, a deep voice called for her from below in camp. “Squirrelpaw?” Brambleclaw looked up at the pair, whiskers twitching. “I need to talk to you.”

“Alright, I’m coming!” Squirrelpaw meowed back, quickly and elegantly finding her way down the slope.

Shrewpaw winced, knowing he didn’t have the grace to keep up, and watched her go. 

He watched her pad up to Brambleclaw, he saw them sit together, talking out of earshot. Brambleclaw was shuffling his paws, a rare bashful move from the tom. Squirrelpaw’s eyes lit up.

Shrewpaw turned to look away, closing his eyes with an ache in his heart. He didn’t have to hear to know what the tom had asked her —or to know that her answer had been yes.

Notes:

Yes, that was a Jolene reference.

Well, here’s the updated version of where we left off last time! Finally moving on!

Chapter 7: New

It was breathtaking.

It seemed that the stars above were captured within reach of his paws. Though they were just reflected in the large stretch of water, it was still a magical sight to behold; the closest Shrewpaw had felt to Starclan since his visit.

Cats around him gaped, wide-eyed, at the ethereal sight.

“It’s beautiful…” Whispered Whitepaw beside him.

Shrewpaw murmured an agreement.

He took a shaky step forward, realizing the exhausting journey was about to end. He had survived the thick of it, and the stars on the lake seemed like a good omen.

Grunting sourly, Sootfur pressed against his side as the clan cats descended towards the lake territories. He had gotten aloof and touchy ever since the cats had seen Midnight.

The grass: oh StarClan the grass… Shrewpaw almost wept as his weary paws stepped along the soft earth. The grass was so plush, and green and lively of scent. He wanted to throw himself into the grass and roll around to his heart’s content, and almost did so if not for his self control winning out.

He took deep gasps of the clean air, trying to take in all of the scents. It was that thick green smell of living plants that he kept going back to; of the sprouting grass, the budding flowers, of the leaves in high reaching trees, and the roots trailing deep beneath the petrichor soaked earth. Then there was the taste of clear, fresh water, unpoisoned and unblemished by the twolegs, faintly tinted with salt and the beach. His mouth began to water as he was overwhelmed by the signs of animals teeming through the land; burrowing in the ground and running through the growths and soaring through the sky.

Sootfur sniffed and licked his lips hungrily, looking annoyed that the prey wasn’t throwing itself at his paws.

“We still have to actually hunt, you know.” Shrewpaw teased.

Sootfur bristled uncharacteristically and flattened his ears at Shrewpaw, who stepped back in surprise. “I’m not stupid Shrewpaw.”

Alright. Feeling touchy today. He’d gotten so used to Sootfur’s kinder side that he’d forgotten how prickly he could be. With a flick of his ear, Shrewpaw decided to give the light gray tom his space, and bounded forward as well as he could.

“This place is amazing!” Ferncloud gasped, setting Birchkit down.

The kit’s eyes widened as a firefly fluttered by, mouth wide in awe at his surroundings. He looked up to his parents for permission.

“Go ahead, you can play as long as you stay close.” Ferncloud encouraged him.

Raising his tail with a squeak, Birchkit bounced after the firefly, leaping and batting at it. 

The joy was a blur. 

Cats romped through the landscape, yowling and trilling with excitement, hunting and resting and celebrating together. Kits played, and apprentices played like kits, warriors played and hunted like apprentices, and elders had a new spring in their step.

Belly full, Shrewpaw lay on his side, licking his toes clean in a comfortable laze. Out of his good eye, he watched his leader walk with a sense of purpose, and paused, interest piqued.

“I’d like to honor ThunderClan’s new life here by honoring a new warrior.” Firestar called, leaping to a tree stump as cats gathered around him. “Squirrelpaw, where are you?”

“Me?!” Squeaked Squirrelpaw, ears pricked and tail standing straight up. “You mean, right now?!”

“Yes. Thunderclan owes you more than I can say for making the journey to Sun Drown Place and helping lead the Clans to this new home.” Firestar’s eyes gleamed with pride as he beckoned his daughter to him. “Dustpelt and I agreed that if ever an apprentice deserved her Warrior name, you do.”

“Wait!” Squirrelpaw turned back as Sandstorm licked her fur to tidy her. “What about Shrewpaw? He only delayed his ceremony so we could have ours together.”

Shrewpaw widened his eyes, warmly connecting to her gaze. She shrugged in an attempt to seem nonchalant, but her expression was ripe with mischievous kindness. They hadn’t spoken a word to one another since their fight, but she’d still remembered their promise to one another.

Thank you.

“You’re right,” Firestar purred. “Shrewpaw, come up here, and Spiderpaw too.”

As Ferncloud groomed him and Spiderpaw, Shrewpaw felt a sprinkle of giddiness flow over him. His whiskers trembled in anticipation. He found himself holding his breath even as Thornclaw escorted him forward to sit beside his friend and brother in front of their leader.

This was it; the single most important moment of a young cat’s life: his Warrior ceremony. This would mark his new role in the clan, his new name, his new life in this new place.

Firestar leaped down, blinking encouragingly at his daughter before lifting his head to address the rest of the gathered cats.

“This is the first time any cat has spoken these words in our new home.” He purred proudly, and then began the ceremony. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as Warriors in their turn.” Emotion swelled in the ginger leader’s voice. “Squirrelpaw, do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code, and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your own life?”

Squirrelpaw’s reply rang clearly, with no hesitation. “I do!”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your Warrior name. Squirrelpaw, from this moment, you will be known as Squirrelflight. StarClan honors your courage and your determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan!” Firestar rested his muzzle on Squirrelflight’s head, and she gave his shoulder a respectful lick in return, her eyes gleaming with joy.

Shrewpaw’s heart swelled seeing his best friend finally made a warrior. Her name was so fitting. He loved it.

“Shrewpaw.”

His attention snapped back to Firestar as his leader addressed him. 

“Do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code, and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your own life?”

“I do.” Shrewpaw’s mind raced with the countless thoughts pouring in. He’d made it. He hadn’t been sure that he would; the accident, the journey, all the pain and healing— it led to this moment.

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your Warrior name. Shrewpaw, from this moment, you will be known as Shrewleap. StarClan honors your quick-thinking and willingness to leap into danger for others, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan!” 

Shrewleap! He thought with joy, licking his leader’s shoulder as the ginger tom rested his muzzle on his head. My name is Shrewleap!

Shrewleap beamed at Squirrelflight, and then at Spiderpaw as he was honored for his enthusiasm and given the name Spiderleg. He soaked in the chants of their names, the pride in his parents’ and mentor’s face, the bouncing up and down from Birchkit and Whitepaw, the shout of Sootfur only just quieter than Ferncloud’s—

The high of the celebration overwhelmed him like the sea of cats that cheered around, giving their congratulations and well wishes one after another.

“My BABIES!” Ferncloud barrelled up to Shrewleap and Spiderleg, throwing herself against them with joy. “I’m so proud of you! My first boys are warriors now!”

“Mother.” Groaned Spiderleg as she licked his face. “You’re being embarrassing.”

And yet, Shrewleap couldn’t see genuine annoyance in his brother, and could tell he was just as happy as their mother was.

“Oh hush, I’ll always baby you. It doesn’t matter how old you get or how strong of a warrior you are.”

“I’m so proud of you two.” Dustpelt was less overbearing than the two’s mother, but scruffed Shrewleap’s head affectionately. “I knew you’d be able to do it. My sons. Warriors.”

“Thanks.” Shrewleap laughed, leaning his head against both of his parents’ in a group embrace.

“Shrewleap.” Thornclaw’s chest puffed out as he rested his tail on Shrewleap’s shoulder. “I’ve been honored to help train such a resilient cat. I’m so glad I got to see you become a warrior.”

“Thank you Thornclaw.” Shrewleap licked his shoulder respectfully. “You taught me everything.”

His old mentor passed by, letting him go back to his family embrace.

“You really did it.”

Shrewleap craned his head over his shoulder to see Cinderpelt.

The medicine cat nuzzled his forehead, brimming with respect. “You proved them wrong Shrewleap. You made it.” She pulled away with a smile. “Congratulations.”

Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you.” 

Over the course of the next few minutes, Shrewleap waded through the crowd, searching for familiar locks of dark ginger. It didn’t take long to find her.

“Congrats Squirrelflight!” Shrewleap chirped, trotting up to his friend. His eyes flicked momentarily to Brambleclaw, who was sitting beside her. He took a breath, and looked back to Squirrelflight with a smile, tilting his head towards the tabby tom. “For everything.”

Relief flooded Squirrelflight’s face as she caught on. “Thank you.” She embraced him tightly. “You’re not… mad?”

“As long as you’re happy, and you’re in my life, it doesn’t matter.” Shrewleap buried his face into her neck fluff. Part of him did mourn the idea of a relationship, but he wasn’t lying to her. Their friendship was stronger than any type of disagreement or yearning, and all he hoped for was her happiness. 

“This is the start of a new beginning,” Squirrelflight whispered excitedly into his ear. “It’s going to be good, I just know it.”

Notes:

Here we go! I’ve finally written something new to the story after updating all the previous chapters! If you only got the update for this and haven’t already, I’d suggest going back and reading the previous chapters as some things have changed in the story in terms of interactions (and general writing skill).

I will still be working on this AU, more now that I actually have a plan in mind. This was my first attempt at AO3 and I had no idea what I was doing when I started, so I’m glad to finally have things under control and be able to give this concept a genuine shot.

Since I started years back, I moved all around the country, got married to the love of my life, and sorted out so much chaos! I’m grateful for your patience and hopefully the delays won’t be as long as they used to be. I’m a slow writer, but it shouldn’t be YEARS between updates anymore 🥳

Chapter 8: Brother’s Keeper

“Dustpelt; I want you to lead an exploratory patrol with Brackenfur, Shrewleap, and Spiderleg.”

As he stood to follow his leader’s orders, Shrewleap wondered what Spiderleg thought of his name. It certainly fit his ungainly appearance.

Though his entire coat was short-haired, Spiderleg had a peculiar and noticeable incohesiveness in the thickness and texture of his fur, depending on the color and part of his body. His black fur, which made up most of his body, was a thicker, fluffier coat, resembling Ferncloud in many ways. His brown underbelly and limbs however, were much sleeker and thinner, more like Dustpelt, and even Ravenpaw. It was why his legs were so visually striking; they seemed so spindly, jutting out from a more compact, fuzzy body. It was as if the bottom half of a completely different cat had been pasted haphazardly to the top.

The moment Firestar had called his name for the patrol, Spiderleg tensed up. 

Shrewleap quickly found his way to his father’s side, a tremor of excitement running down his spine. Finally, he felt ready to be back on patrols, to perform his warrior duties at long last.

Dustpelt looked over at him with warm pride. “Are you ready?”

Unlike some of the other warriors’ fussing and worry, Dustpelt didn’t seem to be asking him about his injuries, or expecting him to be unable to do it. He was just asking if Shrewleap was ready to go. It was a relief.

“Of course!” He raised his tail, chest fluttering elatedly.

Spiderleg, however, seemed miserable.

“Alright,” Brackenfur looked over each of the other toms. “I think we’re ready to go. Right Dustpelt?”

“Yes. Let’s head out.”

Following behind his father, through the thorn tunnel Dustpelt had been key in designing, Shrewleap took a moment to admire the architecture. It was simple, but incredibly effective. No enemy warriors would have an easy time getting through the wall of thorns defending the open side of the quarry that had become their camp, and it protected from wind chill.

He and the other young warriors (much to Sootfur’s chagrin) had spent plenty of time building it up, but Dustpelt and Brackenfur were truly the masterminds, and supervised their actions. Though he didn’t have quite the eye for building as his father, Shrewleap was proud to have been a part of something that would protect the Clan for countless generations to come.

His brother didn’t seem to be as awestruck, instead doing everything in his power to put as much distance between himself and Shrewleap as possible.

Taking a deep breath, Shrewleap flexed his toes into the ground, savoring the softness of the earth. He decided he’d never take it for granted again, after all the aches and pains he’d experienced from the stone ground of the mountains.

“Can you believe Tallstar chose Onewhisker to be deputy in his dying breath?” Brackenfur’s pelt shone, dappled to an even more brilliant gold in the sun through the leaves above. 

“To be honest?” Dustpelt answered as he sniffed the air, head on a swivel, as if absorbing the surroundings and charting them in his head. “No, not really.”

Shrewleap had been shocked by the announcement when it had first happened. Mudclaw had been WindClan’s loyal deputy for many, many seasons, so it felt as if the decision had come out of left field at first. He never doubted Firestar; but it was such a bizarre turn of event, and he’d found himself wondering if Tallstar was even in his right mind when he made the choice, or if he was senile in his moments of death.

Over time, he was able to rationalize it. Mudclaw’s aggressive personality had worked in the forest, where there had been decades of enforced boundaries and history, both good and bad. It also worked somewhat through the journey as far as protecting his Clan went, but that’s where things had begun to show his flaws. 

Mudclaw didn’t play well with other Clans. Right now, instead of a cutthroat leader, all of the Clans needed time to recuperate from the chaos they’d all faced. There needed to be peace and understanding on all sides. 

“You think Onewhisker would lie about something as important as that?” The golden brown tabby asked uncertainly.

Dustpelt shrugged. “I don’t know him.”

“Okay, rephrase:” Brackenfur flicked his tail, his amber eyes watching the scenery around them despite staying present in the conversation. “Do you think Firestar would lie?”

“Fair point.” Dustpelt turned an ear, ever alert in these unfamiliar lands. “I don’t really care much if it were a lie, as long as it benefits ThunderClan. It’ll be easier to deal with Firestar’s buddy than it would be to work out territory borders with Mudclaw.”

“I guess we’ll see how it goes,” Shrewleap paused, watching a mockingbird land on an upturned branch of a dragon tree above. He lashed his tail, chattering at it, wishing he could hunt it, but it was out of reach.

It pecked at the orange, fleshy berries for a moment, and then cocked its head at Shrewpaw. It ruffled its grayish feathers, and proceeded to chatter back at him.

The other cats on patrol had paused too, licking their lips, before Brackenfur sighed. “Well, since this is an exploratory patrol rather than a hunting patrol, we are allowed to hunt and eat. I just don’t think we’ll be able to catch that particular bird.”

“Do you think Onewhisker will be very good at leading?” Continuing on his walk, Shrewleap opened his mouth to try to catch the scent of distinct prey. There was so much more here compared to the old forest, that he’d gotten used to only finding one or two trails. Now, he had to relearn how to distinguish it all.

“Maybe.” Brackenfur did the same.

The younger tom hummed in uncertainty, and then wondered aloud, “Is he even technically a leader without nine lives, he doesn’t even have ‘Star’ in his name yet.”

“Back in the forest, way before you were born, there was a ShadowClan elder named Nightstar —Nightpelt— who led after Brokenstar was driven out, and before Tigerstar took over.”

Shrewleap shuddered at the names of the two cats ThunderClan queens would use for scary stories. He glanced at Spiderleg to see if he had a similar reaction, but his brother just looked away.

Dustpelt glanced at his black furred son, and then at Shrewleap, as if trying to solve the stonewalling issue in his mind, even as he went on. “He was a good cat, but StarClan refused to give him nine lives due to Brokenstar still being alive. Still, he took the name Nightstar, and did his best to rebuild before sickness took him.” Shrewleap’s father stretched. “We still call him Nightstar, so does ShadowClan, out of respect. He was their leader in all other ways despite not having nine lives.”

“Should we start calling Onewhisker ‘Onestar’?” Shrewleap asked.

“I’m not sure.” Brackenfur furrowed his brow. “Not yet.”

“Well, we may have to eventually.” Tail twitching with worry, Shrewleap came to a concerning realization out loud. “If we don’t find a place to commune with StarClan, future leaders may never have nine lives again.”

The whole patrol froze for a somber heartbeat.

“I suppose it’d become the new normal after some time.” The young tom broke the silence, and forced himself forward.

Dustpelt exhaled at the heaviness of the topic, and changed subjects. “Let's keep an eye out for prey.”

Shadows spotted the ground like pebbles as the patrol ventured through the undergrowth. The warmth of the beams of sunlight breaking through the canopy beat on Shrewleap’s brown coat.

A sense of contentment came over him as he walked. Each view was so new, and so familiar at the same time. It really did feel like the old forest in some ways, and he found comfort in that. This place would be ThunderClan’s.

As the group weaved through the grass, Shrewleap kept tasting the air for any animals he could distinguish. Mouth ajar, he squinted his eyes.

I think I smell something.

A bird. It was a woodpecker.

He rose his tail, enthusiastically following the scent.

Where are you?

A splash of bright red head feathers upwind revealed the location of an acorn woodpecker. It dipped its head into a small stream to drink, unaware of the cats behind it.

Worrying that alerting the rest of the patrol would spook the bird, Shrewleap fell into a hunting crouch. He crept forward, careful not to snap any twigs, but the awkward stumble of his bad leg caused the woodpecker to notice him and take flight.

Shrewleap launched himself at the bird, but he missed. He landed with a thump, and watched as it soared away.

The other three were staring, having seen the end of the failed hunt.

“Birds really aren’t my forte, huh?” Shrewpaw tried to laugh off the fumble, licking his chest fur to hide his embarrassment.

“You’ll get it next time,” Dustpelt tried to assure him.

Spiderleg scoffed quietly, shaking his head.

Shrewleap bristled at him. For the first time in moons, his brother had just responded to his existence… it wasn’t a word, but it was a noise that meant he’d noticed something Shrewleap was doing, that he was real. Still, the intent behind the scoff was troubling; he wasn’t sure he liked where it was going.

Dustpelt glanced between the brothers, then at Brackenfur, and a decisive sparkle came to his eyes. “You know,” He said, “I think we should split up to cover more ground.”

Shrewleap pricked his ears.

“Brackenfur and I will go this way,” He flicked his tail to point, “And Shrewleap and Spiderleg will go that way.”

Spiderleg’s jaw hung open in indignation, but he clamped it closed as soon as he noticed Shrewleap watching. With an angry lash of his tail, Spiderleg stormed off in the direction his father had chosen for the duo.

Sighing, Shrewleap followed behind, doing his best to keep up with the pace the taller tom set.

He understood what Dustpelt was doing; he clearly hoped that the forced proximity would get his sons to talk again.

The way he and Spiderleg were exploring was much closer to camp than Dustpelt and Brackenfur. Shrewleap guessed it was due to him being tired out more easily and having a quicker route home if it happened. He didn’t mind staying so close to camp. It was still mostly new to him, and he felt a sense of purpose checking the area for any danger.

The brown tom clambered onto the dusky tan-gray of a fallen ash log, taking a moment to stretch and claw at the rugged wood in satisfaction, before surveying the woods as best he could. He struggled at first with his uneven eyesight, until he remembered that he could simply close his foggy eye to get a clearer view.

Much better.

A patch of nothing took over half of his view, but what remained was worth having to swivel his head further to take everything in. The blurry, blobby leaves sharpened with new detail. He could make out the edges of individual leaves again, individual twigs and ferns and splashes of lichen on stones. The repeating texture of the bark below him 

Hopping off the log with a trill, Shrewleap continued on, turning his head back and forth to pick up as much information as he could.

His hearing ear was working overtime, pivoting tirelessly in all directions to make up for the blocked out noise on the left side. It took a moment to uncover layers of nature’s music underneath the overbearing call of cicadas, but he did. The mockingbirds were at it again, echoing each other throughout the forest. A variety of other birds were singing their own melodies. 

Whispers of the breeze waved through the canopy. Before Shrewleap even craned his neck to observe the movement of the leaves, he picked up on a faint buzzing. He quickly realized there was a wasp nest hanging on a branch above, and hurried along, not wishing to disturb them.

“Hey, can you cover my left side?” Shrewleap worried that he could easily be ambushed if an enemy came at him from that side. He knew he had to be wary, extra alert, but it would help if Spiderleg watched his nine for him.

Spiderleg, of course, did nothing of the sort, but a waft of nervousness carried off of him with the wind.

You’d think he’s the one who’s gone deaf. Well, at least my nose is working fine.

Shrewleap locked in on his remaining senses to pick up the slack. His mouth stayed slightly ajar to taste and smell as much as he was able to, and he focused on distinguishing each scent. He worked to differentiate each plant, each bird, each scuttling creature.

Leaf-litter crunched underfoot as Shrewleap threaded his way around roots. He wanted to put as little strain on his body as possible, and though the roots seemed easy enough to go over, he knew the constant up and down would start to wear on his legs. Favoring even terrain as much as possible would extend the time he could stay out on patrol.

Not far ahead, Shrewleap saw a clearing, just past some bushes. “We should check that out.” He called, knowing by now that it would be “I” and not “we”.

Without his depth perception to warn him, the warrior almost ran face-first into a spider’s web on the way. He strained his eye to focus, admiring the shimmer of pollen on the near invisible strands. He briefly considering bringing it home to Cinderpelt and Leafpaw, until he realized that the maker of the web was still perched on it. 

Shrewleap rubbed his side against a sapling that stood at the edge of the treeless patch of land, and took in the view with a sweeping gaze.

Moss draped throughout the clearing in a blanketing of green. The earth was even softer than usual, and clear of roots to trip over, which Shrewleap imagined would make battle training easier. 

He began to associate the youth of the tree he stood beside with the youth of apprentices. It was small, but much like them, it would grow into something mighty if given the time and resources to do so.

He could see Birchkit crouching in the moss with his mentor, copying moves, pouncing. He could see him wobble with his first attempt at an unbalanced paw swipe, falling over, completely unharmed. He saw other apprentices mock battling, claws sheathed, bouncing around unhindered and excited. He imagined a twinkle in their eyes; a young spark of love for their life and excitement for the future.

“I think this could be a good place to train apprentices, don’t you?” Shrewleap turned to Spiderleg.

Nothing. 

Shrewleap’s brother didn’t even bother to glance at the clearing, much less offer any input.

“It’s like you’re not even paying attention to our surroundings.” Shrewleap prodded snidely, his patience beginning to wear thin. “You know, The whole point of the patrol?”

Nothing. Spiderleg kept on walking, only looking directly ahead of himself, not absorbing a single note about the territory they were supposed to be charting.

Shrewleap growled quietly, and carried on after him. He found himself growing weary of always being the levelheaded one, the one who kept his temper in check and took everything in stride. He was tired of having to being the “responsible one”.

He was tired in general.

Shrewleap’s breath puffed in and out as he tried to keep up. His body was starting to get sore by now after all the exploring. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going at this pace. Cinderpelt told him he had to keep his limits in mind, to not push too hard, otherwise he’d be laid out for days.

A pang in Shrewleap’s lung caused him to slow to a stop, panting, “Spiderleg, wait.”

Spiderleg kept going, and to Shrewleap’s utter appalment, he was walking faster now.

“Spiderleg!” Fed up, Shrewleap raised his voice with a bark. “I said WAIT!”

Spooked, Spiderleg froze in his tracks. His tail tip twitched back and forth violently, like a thrashing snake.

“Oh, so you can hear me when I speak after all. I was beginning to think your ears had mud in them.” Instead of quenching Shrewleap’s fury, his brother’s action only burned it hotter. It was all boiling over now; the moons of pent up sorrow and rejection from the closest family he’d ever had finally wretched into flames of anger. It had been a long time coming. Try as he might to clamp down on it, to hold it back, Shrewleap couldn’t anymore. 

He let go of the reins.

“I am your older littermate, and you will listen to me,” He snarled. “When I tell you to wait for me, you will wait for me! When I tell you to stop, you will stop! What you will not do,” he hissed, stalking forward with unsheathed claws, “Is ignore me and pretend I don’t exist.”

The skinny black and brown tom began shivering, nose wrinkling with anger as if Shrewleap were the one stepping out of line, but held his tongue.

This only made Shrewleap angrier. The silence. The silence was what was the worst. If Spiderleg were to fight back, at least he’d be forced to acknowledge him for once.

“What is your problem?!” He yowled, circling around to Spiderleg’s face. When his brother tried to dodge to the side, he intercepted him, bristling. “What did I do that was so bad that you have to treat me like a ghost?!”

“Get out of my face.” Spiderleg whispered, a barely audible growl in his throat.

“Oh! He speaks!” Laughed Shrewleap furiously, stepping closer so that they were nearly muzzle to muzzle. “How blessed am I, to finally be bestowed the words of Spiderleg; those of which are so rare and valuable these days!”

“I said, get out of my face!” Spat Spiderleg, fur beginning to raise with the volume of his words.

“NO!” He yowled, ears burning with red-hot blood. The floodgates were open now, the fight he didn’t know he was itching for was finally in motion. “In fact, I’ll stay right here, for the rest of our Star-forsaken lives if I have to!”

“GET OUT OF MY FACE!” It was a shout now, loud enough that Shrewleap figured that any prey in the forest had heard it and fled.

“Not until you—”

To his shock, claws swiped at his muzzle. He dodged backward before they could slash him, and then pounced forward, barreling Spiderleg to the ground.

Oh he’s really done it now!

Fur was flying as the brothers tumbled over one another, caterwauling in rage. Paws struck faces, teeth pulled hair, and though no blood had yet been drawn, the fight was escalating rapidly.

Shrewleap was holding his own. His injuries may have disabled him in some categories, and he was shorter than Spiderleg; but as he kicked hard into his brother’s stomach and launched him off, yowling in pain, he felt a surge of satisfaction that his back legs had become so well muscled from the extra work they’d put in to get him to the Lake. 

Stumbling to his feet, Shrewleap hissed and used his weight to slam Spiderleg back down.

Shrewleap was shorter, yes. Smaller and lighter than the average tom, yes. But Spiderleg wasn’t the average tom: he was Shrewleap’s tall, but very skinny brother, and Shrewleap’s shorter stature meant he’d been able to keep more weight on his bones proportionally. Other than his one weak leg, his other three were stable with the wiry muscle that Spiderleg lacked. Spiderleg’s height worked against him, keeping his center of gravity far up enough to topple with ease.

The toms battered at each other, hissing and yowling, with Shrewleap ending up on top of his brother.

“Get off of me!” Spiderleg screeched, smacking his paw across Shrewleap’s nose hard enough that he could taste the metallic tinge of his blood in the back of his throat as it dribbled from his nostril. 

“Not until you tell me your deal is!” Shrewleap smacked his nose in return. “Why have you been avoiding me?!”

“Get OFF!” Spiderleg kicked hard against Shrewleap’s stomach.

Coughing, Shrewleap fell back. He sucked in desperate gasps of air, completely winded by the kick. 

For half a second, he realized that Spiderleg had avoided touching his ribs with that kick, and playing the fight back in his mind, that he hadn’t touched them or his bad leg at all. Regret for the fight began to damper the fire.

He was about to call for a truce, when Spiderleg tackled him into the undergrowth.

This time, the battle picked up in ferocity. Claws were unsheathed, teeth ripped each other’s fur, and bodies flipped and toppled over and over on the ground in the frenzy.

For a second, Shrewleap saw Spiderleg’s face clearly through the chaos.

All of a sudden, they were kits again.

Shrewkit and Spiderkit; batting at each other with squeaks of mock-battle, taking turns being the RiverClan invader. Shrewleap saw himself, playfully nipping at Spiderkit, even as he bit into Spiderleg’s scruff to slam him to the side. He saw Spiderkit’s sheathed paws bapping his muzzle, even as Spiderleg’s claws drew blood on the bridge of his nose. Silly bunny kicks to each other’s bellies —and now, fur flying off in tufts.

And yet, Shrewleap could still see it.

 Shrewkit and Spiderkit; making a mess of the nursery, zooming through camp, kicking up dust, squealing loudly enough to cause a ruckus and get scolded by the warriors for their behavior. Shrewkit and Spiderkit; without a care in the world, gnawing each other’s ears, begging their father for badger rides, falling asleep curled up together at Ferncloud’s belly.

Shrewkit and Spiderkit; inseparable. 

Brothers.

Shrewleap broke away from the grapple again, panting with exhaustion from the fight.

Spiderleg was in a similar state, breathing heavily with a wrinkled nose and flattened ears.

“Do you want to talk, or do you want to keep doing this all day?” Shrewleap’s flanks heaved, his paws unsteady.

Spiderleg squared up again.

“What is WRONG with you?!” Shrewleap yowled.

“What’s wrong with me?! How about what’s wrong with you!” Spiderleg spat back. 

Finally. He was finally talking to him directly. No more silence, no short phrases, a conversation.

“You’re a scrap of fur draped over brittle, crooked bones that are barely holding your weight!” The black furred tom continued, pacing and growling. “You’re barely considered alive, can’t do anything you dreamt of, just trailing along with the Clan, not hunting, not fighting, not doing much besides breathing and running your mouth; the next time a bout of Greencough hits, you’ll die anyways because your chest is so messed up that your lungs won’t be able to work well enough to keep you alive! Talking to you is pointless, because it’s like talking to a walking corpse!”

“That’s what you think of me?!” Shrewleap hissed, too tired to start pacing too, but tracking his brother’s movement with his glaring, amber eyes. “How about what I think of you! You’re a petty, disloyal, coward of a cat who’d rather whine about your littermate’s battered body instead of being thankful that I survived something brutal enough to cause it! You’d rather ignore me and hope I go away than even consider, that maybe, I’m not suffering!”

Spiderleg let out an indignant caterwaul and leap forward, only for Shrewleap to pin him again. He spat at Shrewleap’s face. “You’re a liability!”

“Is Cinderpelt a liability?” Shrewleap slammed his brother down as he struggled. “How about Brightheart? Longtail?! Are they liabilities?!”

“It’s different!”

“HOW?!”

“You were supposed to die!” Shouted Spiderleg, tail bristling.

“You wanted me to die?!” Snarled Shrewleap, recoiling harshly. 

“NO!” Spiderleg spat, voice cracking with pain. “But it didn’t matter what I wanted! You were going to die!” 

Shrewleap’s fur began to lie flat, his tail drooping, deflated. Panting, he hobbled back and off of his brother, allowing him to get up.

“You were going to die. Just like Hollykit. Just like Larchkit. I couldn’t watch it.” Spiderleg’s own fur smoothed as he broke. He slumped down, as if his thin, brown legs had given out beneath him, and stared at his paws. “I saw your injuries, I saw how you looked. You were going to die, just like them, and I couldn’t—” He clenched his teeth, casting his gaze away in shame. “—I couldn’t handle it. Not again. Not after our sisters. If I let myself feel hope, and you— I couldn’t do it, it would’ve killed me too. You were going to die.”

“I didn't.” Shrewleap could tell Spiderleg was starting to shut down again, starting to pull away. All the animosity dropped away in that moment like fleas touched by bile. This was his kin; his brother, one of the cats in the world he loved most and wanted to protect. He crouched closer to his brother’s face, draping his tail over his. “I didn’t die.”

His dark furred brother shook his head, as if he were refuting the fact.

Hurt overwhelmed Shrewleap. He had to get through to him to be able to salvage whatever was left of their bond. 

“I needed you when I woke up from the accident!” He cried, sitting back on his haunches. “I was in so much pain, and I needed my brother to be there for me, more than any other time in my life, and you weren’t. Do you know how that felt?”

Clenching his jaw, Spiderleg stared at his paws sorrowfully, the scent of shame wafting off of him.

“It was worse than the physical pain.” Shrewleap pressed his paw into the sand next to Spiderleg’s. From that view, they looked nearly the same. Both the same shade of brown, both of the same blood. “That’s what happens when you choose to detach from someone who loves you —someone you love— out of fear. We don’t die just because we already have in your mind. We linger. We suffer from the lack of you. I suffered from the lack of you.”

Spiderleg finally looked up, holding Shrewleap’s gaze for the first time since the accident. Though they were the color of Dustpelt’s, Shrewleap always thought his Spiderleg had gotten Ferncloud’s eyes. They were so deep, so revealing of everything he ever felt and thought. They were welling with grief, guilt, and an unfathomably deep sorrow and remorse.

That must’ve been why he hasn’t met my eye in so long. If he had, he wouldn’t have been able to hide it any longer.

“I just want things to go back to the way they were!” Spiderleg wept, ears falling.

“I’m sorry, but they just can’t. We’ve changed too much, lived through too much. We’re different cats than we used to be…” Shrewleap shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t pick up the pieces and build something new. Spiderleg, we’re brothers, we’re littermates. We shared a womb, a nest, a den, a home; that’s a bond that we can’t just throw away.”

“Brothers.” Spiderleg closed his eyes, ruminating over the word. “I just want to be brothers again.”

Shrewleap entwined their tails together. “We never stopped.”

Spiderleg pressed his forehead against Shrewleap’s, sobbing, and to Shrewleap’s surprise, he realized he was doing the same. The duo held each other’s gaze for a long time, squinting softly.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Shrewleap eased himself down, lying on his side and trying to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry I swiped at your face.” Spiderleg flopped down next to him, nearly as winded.

“I’m sorry I tackled you.” Shrewleap rested his head against the grass, staring up at the sky through the oak leaves.

“I’m sorry I tackled you.” Spiderleg copied his position for a moment, and then turned his face towards Shrewleap’s. “And that I made your nose bleed.”

“I’m sorry that I beat you up so bad,” Shrewleap twitched his whiskers, trying to lighten the mood with humor. “I was winning after all.”

“No you weren’t, I was holding back!”

“Sure you were.”

Spiderleg laughed hoarsely. The amusement fell from his face as quickly as it had found its way there. He shimmied closer, pressing his nose to Shrewleap’s forehead with a somber sigh. With a slow blink, he became quiet again; so quiet, like a slight rustle of grass in a feather-soft breeze. 

“I’m sorry I abandoned you.”

“Yeah, that… wasn’t great…” It wasn’t okay. The brown furred warrior couldn’t force himself to lie and say it was. “But it's the past now, all we can do is move forward and work to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“But what if you do die?” Spiderleg choked on his words, shivering.

“Of course I’ll die. But so will you; so will everyone eventually, whether it’s the strike of a monster or the last breath of old age.” He gently butted his head against his brother’s shoulder. “But that isn’t the end! There’s StarClan after, and you’ll be back together with everyone you’ve ever loved again. Dappletail, Hollykit, Larchkit… and if we pass before you, Dustpelt, Ferncloud, and me…” He started licking Spiderleg’s forehead in an attempt to comfort him. “I know you’re scared, I know it hurts to lose the cats you love, but you have to be open to that love, you just have to be.” 

Before Spiderleg could voice any thoughts, a battle cry reverberated through the forest as a blur of brown leapt out of the trees, bristling like a thorn bush and screaming with the ferocity of a mountain lion. 

The ferocity of a father.

The angry, spiky cat quickly stopped his caterwaul, whipping his head around with wild confusion as his hackles lowered and fur smoothed out.

“What’s going on?” Dustpelt asked, regarding his sons with a bewildered concern. “I heard fighting, are you alright? Did someone attack you?!” His eyes quickly flickered between the two young warriors; a rare worry breaking through his usual mask of certainty.

“We’re alright,” Spiderleg raised his head. “Nobody —nothing— was attacking us. We just…”

“Shrewleap, you’re bleeding.” Dustpelt ran to his side, seeming more like Ferncloud with his fussing than his regular self. “What happened?”

Wheezing, Shrewleap sat up, scratching at his chin with his back foot. “We were… sparring, and got a bit carried away.”

Mouth agape, Dustpelt looked incredulously back and forth between the toms.

Spiderleg bashfully licked his chest fur, admitting, “We were fighting. We worked it out though, I think.”

“I was winning.” Shrewleap added.

“Was not!”

“Was.”

Their playful bickering was interrupted by golden tabby fur darting out from the bushes, an alert warrior landing next to Dustpelt with a puffed up tail.

“What happened?” Brackenfur asked quickly. “I heard a fight.”

“Just us,” Shrewleap licked his paw, trying to seem nonchalant. “We’re alright.”

Brackenfur tilted his head, but his fur began to flatten. “There’s enough out in the world trying to hurt us without picking fights with our own Clanmates,” He chided gently. “Next time, use your words instead of your claws.”

“Yes sir.” Both younger toms echoed. 

Though Shrewleap was now technically a warrior too, he automatically thought of Brackenfur as outranking himself, as well as most others, due to his firm, yet compassionate presence, and his respectful nature and overall competence. He found himself thinking, once again, that the golden tabby would make an excellent deputy.

We NEED someone soon… The brown furred warrior fretted. Someone wise and reliable for Firestar to lean on in decision making. Otherwise, who knows what could happen.

Dustpelt shook his head, baffled. “Well,” He huffed, turning and gesturing with his tail for the pair to follow him back through the woods, “At least you’re talking again, I suppose. As long as you’re talking, you can make progress. It’s good.”

“Yeah,” Shrewleap blinked happily at his brother, hopping over a root after Dustpelt. “I suppose it is.”

Spiderleg blinked back.

For the first time since Shrewleap had been struck by the monster, the silence on the walk back to the Clan with his brother was comfortable instead of pointed. The distance had finally closed. His brother was back. 

This place finally felt like it could be a home after all.

As they came within eyeshot of camp, Shrewleap could see Ferncloud hop onto her feet, beaming at the family.

Dustpelt raised his tail in a greeting, pausing his steps for a moment with a happy expression plastered on his face. “One thing;” He quickly whispered, not dropping the affectionate body language or looking to the side, “Let’s agree not to tell your mother how you two started talking again, alright? Otherwise, she’ll give us all a scolding.”

Notes:

Look, I know Dragon’s Blood trees don’t grow in England, but to be fair, the Erin’s have put plenty of things in Warriors that shouldn’t be there geographically. I’ve come to the conclusion that the Warrior Cats world is kinda its own pocket dimension as a fantasy place that doesn’t have direct parallels irl, so I just put whatever I want.

AKA: I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to put a tree also known as a “Brother’s Blood” tree in this chapter. Interesting mythology tied to it. Darsa and Samha? Cain and Abel?

Or, yknow, a dragon and an elephant I guess, but that last one didn't quite relate to this chapter or its title.

Chapter 9: Home

Warmth seeped from the flat stone Shrewleap was basking on, into his achy muscles and bones. Sunshine soaked into his pelt, the rays warming his brown ticked coat, which gleamed in the direct light like bronze. He had nothing to do today but laze about in the daylight, and it was magnificent.

The collection of large, flat stones he was sunbathing on were like ThunderClan’s own, personal Sunningrocks, with the added bonus of being in camp. The elders had first priority to them of course, but otherwise, they were free to use, especially for Shrewleap. Cinderpelt had basically prescribed sunning time to him to keep his joints from getting too sore, so he was allowed to lounge there as long as he wanted on off days.

Sprawling out further, the young warrior couldn’t help but marvel at ThunderClan’s camp. The quarry walls stretched high into the sky, keeping out the worst of the elements and leaving camp warm and unbothered. Firestar had made his den inside a cave dug into the cliffside, which he could stride right out of and onto the highrock; the Clan’s new meeting spot. Along with the stones he basked on, another, called halfrock, was perfectly placed by the elder’s den. The warrior’s den —in which Shrewleap had made his nest next to Squirrelflight, Sootfur, and Spiderleg— was a simple dip underneath a thorny bush.

Squirrelflight had been the one to find the camp —in the most Squirrelflight fashion possible— having fallen into it on accident. Much to his relief, she wasn’t hurt, but had instead discovered their new home.

Other than having to chase some badger’s from their territory, and the other Clans having their issues, things had finally settled down. ThunderClan’s life had gotten into its new routine, figured out their new hunting and patrolling spots, Shrewleap’s suggestion of the mossy clearing being made a training zone for the apprentices had been used, and nobody was hungry anymore. Nobody being hungry meant a lot of the crankiness —minus Sootfur, who for whatever reason, was more riled up— was long gone, and Shrewleap’s Clanmates had let go of most contention. 

Ferncloud had put back on weight, looking as soft as he remembered her being when he was young. Birchkit, who was playing with Whitepaw nearby, was nearly apprentice sized, finally looking like a kit his age instead of a skeleton. His father and littermate, and the rest of the Clan, including himself, were in a similar state, recuperating their strength at last. Though leaf-fall was upon them, prey was still plentiful enough that the pangs of starvation were far in the past.They were happy.

Things were good.

Shrewleap himself had finally fully healed from his Thunderpath wounds, which was a relief. Though there would always be aches, and he’d always limp and struggle to breathe deeply, the active pain caused by movement or touch was gone. He finally didn’t feel so fragile anymore.

Bruising? Gone. Scratches and abrasions? Gone. Sight in his left eye…? Also gone, though he was admittedly not as enthused about that.

Ironically, he could see significantly better now that there was less strain on his right eye trying to over-correct the other. Depth perception was a thing of the past, but it didn’t take long for him to mentally reconfigure his surroundings, so it didn’t inhibit him as much as he would’ve thought.

“Did you hear about how things are getting over in WindClan?” Beside Shrewleap, Dustpelt was resting near Mousefur, discussing Clan politics in a growling tone. “Rising tensions, a whole fracture. Half the Clan supports Onewhisker, and the others are backing Mudclaw. I’m telling you, if things keep escalating like this, WindClan’s going to end up having a civil war.”

“And we’ll probably be dragged into it,” Mousefur grumbled. “Firestar always has to stick his paws in other Clans’ business.”

“I say let ‘em crumble,” Dustpelt said, lashing his tail. “If they can’t stand on their own without Firestar and ThunderClan swooping in to save them every few moons, they deserve to mess up and fix it themselves.”

Tuning out the angry mutterings of the others, Shrewleap stood, circled, and lay back down to get a better position. He wasn’t concerned about WindClan. Sure, there was tension, but he highly doubted that it would turn into anything as severe as a coup. Dustpelt and Mousefur were fretting over nothing as far as he was concerned, and he wasn’t going to spend such a wonderful day worrying about the unlikely future.

Instead, he chose to dangle his paws over the edge of the stone he was resting on, and call out to his little brother. “Hey, Birchkit, toss that mossball over here!”

Birchkit’s bright amber eyes lit up, and he ran towards Shrewleap, smacking the mossball at him.

Shrewleap caught it, and then batted it away, only to catch it again when Whitepaw tossed it to him. 

Birchkit bounded over to retrieve the ball, only for Shrewleap to surprise him with a playful grapple, grabbing the lighter tabby in his front paws and lightly munching his ear. Squealing, Birchkit pounced up at him, swatting his nose and pretending to knock him over.

In retaliation, Shrewleap grabbed onto his little brother, gently bunny kicking the rambunctious kit before releasing him so he could continue his play-attack. He got to his feet, batting at Birchkit, who was easily outmaneuvering him as he scampered around.

It didn’t take long for Whitepaw to arrive to the rescue.

“Thank StarClan you’re here Whitepaw,” Shrewleap flopped over as Birchkit pounced on his tail. “This little warrior is about to defeat me!”

Appallingly, Whitepaw turned out to be a traitor, because she joined Birchkit in his attack, bapping Shrewleap in his face.

The trio must’ve kicked up some pebbles, because Mousefur quickly got fed up with their shenanigans. “Get outta here you little mole rats!” 

With a squeak, Birchkit rushed off, and Shrewleap tossed the mossball his way to keep him preoccupied. He sat up, licking his fur clean, and along with Whitepaw, ignored the scent of annoyance radiating off Mousefur. 

“See, this is why I never wanted kits.” Mousefur turned indignantly to Frostfur.

Frostfur stretched her legs out, and flicked her tail lightly. “You’re far too young to be acting like a seasoned elder, maybe I should shoo you away,” she teased. “I think it’s nice to see him up and about. Playing kits are a sign of a healthy Clan.”

Shrewleap was glad to see her brightening up. It seemed that she’d made it through the thick of the guilt of leaving Speckletail, and was happy to be alive again. Alongside Goldenflower, she brought much needed wisdom and patience (he glared at Mousefur as he thought this) to the Clan.

Not wanting to disturb the grouchy she-cat any further, Shrewleap hopped away from the stone he’d been sunning himself on with a trill, and made his way to one closer to the apprentice den. He sat back down, examining the cave and the ferns hiding it, thinking about how Whitepaw’s was the only nest inside. That must be lonely.

Whitepaw plopped right down next to him, licking his ear to clean some of the dust Birchkit had gotten on him. “How’s it feel to have been outwitted by a kit and an apprentice?” She poked fun between licks.

“Only because you betrayed me! Besides,” Shrewleap batted at her tail playfully, “You’ll be a warrior soon, so I was only truly outwitted by a kit and a warrior; it’s only half as embarrassing.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.” Her playful demeanor suddenly faltered as she looked at the apprentice den. The sweet she-cat’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“It’s too bad you were a bit too young to become a warrior with us,” Shrewleap mrowed, resting his tail on hers. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in the apprentice’s den alone.”

“Speaking of which…” Whitepaw locked her green eyes onto Birchpaw, watching him pounce on the mossball. “I think I’m going to ask Firestar to delay my ceremony.”

“What? Why?” Shrewleap widened his eye in surprise. Sure, he’d delayed his own, but that was only because it was happening too early in case he died. He couldn’t think of why Whitepaw would want to be the only apprentice for that much longer, especially with how forlorn she seemed about it now.

“Birchkit’s gone through a lot,” Whitepaw answered, making Shrewleap realize that that was exactly why; nobody wanted to be the only apprentice, and she was making sure it wouldn’t happen to anyone else. “He’ll be lonely if he has to train alone, and after your sisters… Well, I’m the youngest of our friend group, and I thought I could hang back a little longer, either until he becomes a warrior, or we have new apprentices to keep him company.”

“Are you sure? That’s a big sacrifice.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.” Shrewleap blinked softly and gently bunted his head against her shoulder, grateful for the ongoing kindness of his friend. She’d always been so selfless, and moments like this really showed it. She was too good for this world.

A rustle of movement by the fresh-kill pile drew Shrewleap’s attention.

Squirrelflight was trotting about with a particularly large shrew in her mouth, chest puffed out. Firestar greeted her with a loving headbutt against her forehead, saying something that got a loud cackle out of her. She dropped the shrew briefly, meowing to Brambleclaw, whose happy expression faltered directly after.

“StarClan, are you still mooning over her?” Whitepaw rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to move on. Mr ‘broad-shouldered dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes’ has her attention, not you. Clearly her taste in toms is…” Whitepaw grimaced dramatically. “She’s not worth causing yourself heartache over.”

“What?” Shrewleap stumbled over his words, face feeling warm. “I don't —I’ve never —Who says I’m mooning over her? We’re just—”

“—Friends?” Whitepaw said, deadpan. “Yeah, and the moon is red. Literally everybody but you and, somehow, her can tell you’re pining for her. You’re not exactly good at hiding it.”

“Well,” Shrewleap huffed, licking his chest fur in embarrassment, “I don’t intend to act on my feelings as long as she’s with Brambleclaw. Okay, so I like her; so what? It’s not mutual, and that’s fine. I can’t turn my feelings off right away, but they’ll probably fade over time.”

Hopefully. He added silently, watching the ginger-furred subject of their conversation approach, her mate trailing miserably behind.

“Look at what I caught.” Squirrelflight dropped the shrew at Shrewleap’s paws, turning it over to reveal an old battlescar over one of its eyes. “It’s literally you!”

“I see the resemblance, but something’s not quite right,” Shrewleap mused, prodding at it. “It may be too handsome to be my twin.”

“Hmm…” Squirrelflight crouched down to examine it, her green eyes focused. She turned it over, tilted its head side to side, really putting on a show, before nodding decisively. “You know what,” she meowed, “I think you’re right.”

Laughing, Shrewleap batted at his friend. “Well, I still win, because I’m alive.”

“Thank StarClan for that.” Squirrelflight gave his forehead a quick lick. 

Brambleclaw lashed his tail.

“Anyways, I just thought that would be funny to show you.” Squirrelflight hopped up, tail sticking straight up. “If you’re hungry, you could eat it.”

The brown coated warrior was about to agree, but he felt the burning glare of Brambleclaw on his pelt. Uncomfortable, he changed tactics, proceeding with caution.

“Thank you for the offer, but I think it might just be a little bit too uncanny for me to eat it.” Shrewleap twitched his whiskers appreciatively. “I’ll probably just grab something from the freshkill pile.”

“Your loss,” Squirrelflight jested. “It’s the best catch of the day—”

“—I’ll take it,” Brambleclaw rushed in, scooping the shrew up and glaring at Shrewleap out of the corner of his eye. “I think you did a great job catching it.”

Squirrelflight seemed to be caught off guard by the snap of discomfort for a fraction of a second, but quickly talked over it. “Anywho, I’m going to go ‘look for herbs’ with Leafpaw,” she began to pad away, brushing her fluffy tail alongside Brambleclaw’s flank to encourage him to leave as well, “and by ‘look for herbs,’ I mean goof around for a couple hours. Have fun eating your boring meals!”

She left, and Brambleclaw slunk away far enough for Shrewleap to feel comfortable pushing himself to his feet with a grunt.

“Yikes.” Whitepaw swished her tail.

“Yeah…” The brown tom flicked his tail towards the fresh-kill pile. “I am hungry though. Should I grab you anything?”

“Mouse or somethin’,” she said with a nod, arching her back in a stretch and gesturing for Birchkit to come over.

Thinking the awkward interaction was far behind him, Shrewleap meandered across camp, sniffing the leaf-fall air on his way to the fresh-kill. He was grateful, again, for the high walls keeping the wind out, because the still air meant it stayed warmer. The warrior noticed lately, that the colder the temperature, the worse he ached.

He was about three quarters of the way to his destination, when he was intercepted.

“What’s so special about you?!” Brambleclaw growled quietly, circling around from Shrewleap’s blind side to block his path. 

“What?” Stopping, Shrewleap tilted his head in confusion. His hackles rose involuntarily, caught off guard by the sudden hostility. He’d never been friends with Brambleclaw, but they certainly weren’t enemies either; even after he’d told Firestar about his meetings with Squirrelflight, he only really seemed to regard him with annoyance rather than this sudden anger. Trying to look past Brambleclaw to see if any other warriors were watching, he faltered, “I don’t underst—”

“—You were always Firestar’s favorite; best hunter out of all the apprentices at the time, best speaker, best fighter, best at following the rules, best narc to go running to him whenever someone else isn’t as perfect as you,” spat Brambleclaw, bristling around the shoulders, with a surprising hint of a tremor in his voice.

The bigger warrior reeked of insecurity and dismay, despite his clear efforts to hide it with his posturing and swagger. He was overcompensating for something, and Shrewleap realized, shockingly, that Brambleclaw genuinely saw him as a threat to his relationship with Squirrelflight. Whatever it was that made him feel inferior was spilling over onto Shrewleap now, and he wasn’t sure how to settle him down.

“Ever since Squirrelflight became my mate, Firestar hasn’t shut up about you,” Brambleclaw seethed with a tinge of woe. “‘Squirrelflight, what’s Shrewleap been up to? Squirrelflight, I’m glad your friend Shrewleap is so responsible and takes care of things around camp before I have to ask anyone. Squirrelflight, have you seen how Shrewleap has been modeling good behavior to the younger cats? Squirrelflight, you should see what Shrewleap thinks about your catch. Squirrelflight, I think maybe you should spend more time with your friends, and less with just Brambleclaw!’ —he might as well just say ‘Squirrelflight, why did you take Tigerstar’s son as a mate when you could’ve had goody-four —no, you know what? Goody-three-paws Shrewleap instead, and he’d be nice and boring and do everything I tell him to, unlike Brambleclaw, who’s NEVER been good enough from the MOMENT he was born, because his bloodline is tainted!’”

Well, that’s a loaded statement.

Shrewleap lowered his tail with a sigh. “We’re just friends Brambleclaw.” 

“Squirrelflight doesn’t need tom-friends. Back off.”

The skinnier tom considered asking “or what?” but he knew the answer wouldn’t be ideal. He wasn’t trying to cause contention between himself and Squirrelflight’s mate, especially when Brambleclaw would easily beat him to a pulp. Shows of arrogant strength wouldn’t help anyone, and there was no need for him to fight to prove anything. Squirrelflight was not some prize to be fought over and won, she was his friend —and regardless of what Brambleclaw had to say, she would stay that way unless she herself stated otherwise.

Not that he had to make things worse by stating that out loud at that moment. Instead, he kept his jaw shut, and averted his gaze.

That seemed to be enough to calm the dark tabby’s nerves, because he stalked away, carrying the faint scent of relief with him.

Trying to brush away the tension, Shrewleap waited until Brambleclaw was far away before continuing his way to the freshkill pile. There were, of course, a couple of mice, which Shrewleap promptly took right back to Whitepaw. He lay next to her, nudging one to her, and tucked in to begin his meal.

Whitepaw opened her mouth, as if to thank him, but faltered. “Shrewleap…”

“Hm?”

“Your paws are shaking.”

Notes:

Trying my best to give Brambleclaw believable reasons for his anger even if they’re not fully justified. It’s interesting trying to write Shrewleap as a character, because I’m used to my own book having very flawed and morally gray protagonists, whereas Shrewpaw is literally known as the good role model and responsible, well mannered cat that everyone in his generation looked up to. I’m trying to kinda lean into that as being almost a flaw in itself, like his sense of responsibility was what caused him to tell on Squilf about her meeting with Bramble, as well as him assuming his stance is the correct one/thinking he knows better for someone else than they do sometimes. I also noticed he kinda brushed off Squirrelpaw’s worries at one point because he thought it was unlikely to be an actual problem, so I’m kinda trying to add that in with him being so certain that worrying about things like WindClan shouldn’t be taken seriously. A character needs flaws to grow.

Also: one of the Erins said Shrewpaw didn’t have “enough clout to be with someone like Squirrelflight” when asked if he would’ve been a love interest had he lived. Obviously I don’t care since I’m writing this, but I thought it was kinda funny to mention, and also REALLY bad wording on her part to call it clout since everyone was already accusing Squilf of choosing Bramble for the status.

Chapter 10: Into The Fray

Summary:

I told myself I had to wait a couple weeks to post this to tide y’all over a bit just in case it takes a long time to get another chapter out. Got too excited to share it though, so here it is.

“Just now?! Are you certain?”

“I am!”

“We can’t just rush in if there’s no proof; that would be as good as declaring war! You need to be sure this is what’s happening.”

“If Mudclaw makes a move, he’d have to attack tonight; tomorrow, Onewhisker’s getting his nine lives.”

Shrewleap stood, stunned, head whipping from cat to cat as they spoke in increasingly panicked tones. Mistyfoot had just come to warn them that Mudclaw —conspiring with Hawkfrost— was actively enacting his plan: not just a coup, but a full blown assasination. Things had been escalating exponentially in WindClan, but Shrewleap had never thought it would get this bad this fast.

“This has to be a misunderstanding!” Leafpool inexplicably came to Hawkfrost’s defense. “He wouldn’t —he seems like he wouldn’t do something like that unless he thought it was the right thing to do!”

“I JUST saw him, Leafpool!” Mistyfoot snarled, hackles rising. “I don’t care the reason!”

“Well maybe he feels justified!” The tabby rebutted, her amber eyes wide in disbelief. “Nobody outside of Onewhisker and a few ThunderClan cats actually saw it happen! It makes sense that some cats wouldn’t believe it! That doesn’t make him evil!”

Shrewleap side-eyed his friend, uncomfortable with how willing she was to advocate for a cat they didn’t really know.

“I never said he was—” Mistyfoot huffed, turning to Firestar instead. “We don’t have time for this, we need to get moving now or Mudclaw will succeed.”

“Warriors of ThunderClan! Rally to me!” Firestar’s eyes hardened in determination. He quickly leapt onto the highrock and raised his voice, commanding the attention of his Clan. “Thornclaw, you take a couple others to watch the ShadowClan border for an attack. Cloudtail, Brightheart, guard the hollow.”

Shrewleap sprang to his feet, trying to shake off the shock and prepare himself for battle. The announcement had been so sudden, and the warriors of ThunderClan scrambled in a hectic battle patrol, Shrewleap included.

Firestar stopped him, his paw to his chest. “Not you Shrewleap. I need you to stay behind with Whitepaw. If something goes sideways, you’re the ones who need to protect the elders and your brother.”

Sharply nodding, the skinny tom stepped back, heart pounding.

Dustpelt pressed his nose into his forehead, before sternly crouching to face him. “You two stay safe, look after your mother, I’ll be back soon.”

“We will,” Shrewleap brushed against Spiderleg’s pelt determinedly, before his brother peeled away to join Thornclaw. 

Sootfur quickly passed him by, and he briefly laid his tail on his back in acknowledgment. The gray warrior looked over his shoulder briefly, ear flicking, before he joined the rest of the party.

As the patrol began to move out, Shrewleap frantically searched for Squirrelflight among the sea of pelts, until he found the splash of dark ginger he was looking for.

“Squirrelflight!”

Her head poked up from the crowd, her eyes wide as they locked with his.

Shrewleap swallowed, running to her side. “Come back in one piece.”

With that, she disappeared, as the patrol charged ahead into unknown odds. 

The sheer weight of the silence that followed was crushing. One moment, the camp had been a riptide of shouting and movement, and now, it was nearly empty.

Shrewleap turned around to take note of the remaining cats: Ferncloud had curled her tail around Birchkit. Goldenflower nudged Longtail up, with Frostfur standing tall beside them. Cinderpelt flicked her tail uneasily, with Leafpool sulking beside her in shock. Cloudtail and Brightheart stood side by side, exchanging glances.

“Okay,” Cloudtail started, taking over quickly. “Me, Brightheart, and Shrewleap, will hide in a couple places to look out for any danger. If someone is trying to sneak in, one of us should be able to catch them and alert the others to an attack. It’ll be strained, but we’ll make do.”

“I can help!” Leafpool volunteered without hesitation. “I have a little battle training, and I’ll do whatever I can to defend ThunderClan.”

“Where’s Mousefur?” Longtail interrupted. “Don’t tell me she went off with the Warriors!”

“She did,” Cloudtail realized aloud, eyes sweeping over the remaining group. “She hasn’t been retired long, maybe her claws are still as sharp as her words; and I’m sure she’s been itching to use both.”

Longtail flattened his ears, clenching his jaw in worry.

Frostfur spoke up, raising her tail to get the others’ attention. “We need to move Ferncloud, Birchkit, Cinderpelt, and the elders into the nursery just in case a surprise attack does take place,” she meowed. “It’s easily defensible, and a good place to lay low until everyone comes back.”

“I need to gather up herbs first,” Cinderpelt added. “I want to get bundles prepared in advance in case anyone comes back injured. Whitepaw can escort me back to the nursery from there.”

“Good, we have a plan,” Cloudtail said decisively, though there seemed to be a flicker of relief that his daughter was less likely to see direct conflict. He began pointing with his tail to where the warriors’ posts would be. “Brightheart will be there, I’ll be over here. Leafpool, you go up there, it’s not likely any attacks would come from that direction. Shrewleap, over there on the secret path, same reason as Leafpool. You’ll be close to each other in case there is an incident.” The big tom crouched slightly to the duo’s level, keeping his face stern to hide any inkling of worry. “If anything feels off, you shout for help, alright?”

“Understood.”

Raindrops began to speckle Shrewleap’s fur as he hid at his post, staring out into the dusk. It started slowly at first; just a sprinkle, nothing more… but as time began to wear on, the downpour steadily increased.

Even as he scanned his surroundings, Shrewleap’s mind wandered elsewhere.

Haunting images flashed through his mind like the lightning in the sky. He could practically see the battle in his mind: an unknown number of enemies brawling with his Clan, slashing, shredding, biting. The smell of iron and fury. Dustpelt being attacked on each side by two warriors! Sootfur’s ear ripping in the mouth of an enemy! Squirrelflight pinned, bitten, yowling and doing her best to fight back!

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to think is something else, but found himself beginning to worry about Thornclaw’s group by the border. He knew his mentor would have no problem going toe-to-toe with an enemy warrior, but he worried about Spiderleg. What if they were ambushed by a larger patrol?

Thunder growled, and Shrewleap began to imagine the sounds of fighting through it. He could practically hear the hisses and snarls, the battle-cries and orders shouted, the yowls of pain, and the screams.

Leafpool screamed.

Wait, that’s real! Shrewleap jolted to his feet, already bolting up the path to get to her. Even as he ran, he frantically searched for his friend, and quickly narrowed in on her. She was fleeing toward the hollow.

A single ShadowClan warrior, who he recognized as Wolfstep, charged after her, gaining ground. He’d catch up to her if Shrewleap didn’t act now.

Shrewleap threw himself forward, intercepting the attacker before he could chase Leafpool any further.

Wolfstep stumbled, tripping over with the sudden weight of Shrewleap crashing into him, but quickly got to his feet, hissing.

Shrewleap hissed back, struggling to stand himself. He was only about a tail length away from the thick-coated warrior, gray as his namesake, and just as fierce.

Leafpool skidded on the mud, pivoting on her white paws as if to turn back to help him.

“GO!” Shrewleap shouted.

Though it seemed to pain her to do so, Leafpool continued her flight from the scene.

Shrewleap held himself between the attacker and his fleeing medicine cat. He matched Wolfstep pace by pace, keeping his head low and his spine bristling. 

He mentally sized Wolfstep up: though lean, he was bigger than Shrewleap, stronger, faster. Older —which briefly seemed like a sliver of hope before Shrewleap realized that his age only meant more experience, as he hadn’t slowed down enough to retire yet. Most terrifyingly, whatever could be his motives for something as deranged as launching a solo attack on ThunderClan camp meant he likely had nothing to lose. 

This was not a fight Shrewleap could win. His only hope was to buy Leafpool enough time to escape, and hope the other warriors came in time to back him up. If he could just do that, he’d have done his job.

Wolfstep’s yellow-green eyes burned with the calculating presence of a canine. Terrifyingly, Shrewleap could tell he was sizing him up too. 

The ThunderClan warrior shifted his mindset, trying to see himself from Wolfstep’s point of view. Smaller, weaker, much younger and less experienced. He’d be an easy target, EXCEPT for one crucial detail: he was desperate. Even a cat with nothing to lose was not as dangerous as a cat who knew they could lose everything if they failed. Being on the defense of his home camp meant Shrewleap would be more likely to resort to deadly force, and fight with intense aggression he wouldn’t use in an average battle.

I could use that. Shrewleap feinted forward, screeching and swiping his claws in a threat of violence. Lean into the desperation angle. Keep him cautious as long as I can.

Hissing in return, Wolfstep kept analyzing him. He stopped pacing, narrowing his eyes. The look on his face meant he already thought he’d won.

Shrewleap froze, growling. He realized, too late, that he’d forgotten one crucial detail about himself that the enemy warrior could easily see.

His left eye.

The ShadowClan warrior turned suddenly on his hackles, darting to Shrewleap’s blind side before he could cover it.

Shrewleap yowled as Wolfstep slammed him against the ground, swiping ferociously at the ShadowClan tom’s face.

Wolfstep easily dodged it, but his minute retreat gave Shrewleap enough momentum to barrel his whole side into the gray tom’s chest, shoving him back a few pawsteps.

Back to square one. Shrewleap hadn’t gained any ground, but neither had Wolfstep. If he could just keep it that way for a bit longer, Cloudtail and Brightheart would be able to arrive as reinforcements and drive Wolfstep out.

His enemy seemed to catch on to this though, and wasted no time launching himself forward again, ramping up on intensity. 

Flickers of water flew from Wolfstep’s claws and into Shrewleap’s eye as he shredded them through the air, less than a whisker length away from blinding him. 

The brown tom had only barely managed to get back in time, and didn’t have a chance to react before Wolfstep clouted him on the side of his head, sending him stumbling back in a daze. 

His enemy kept advancing, pushing him further and further back.

The hollow! His mind screamed. He swiped he Wolfstep’s face, slashing it open above his eye, trying to stun him long enough to shove them both forward and warn him about the cliff.

Instead of taking a moment to pause, Wolfstep instantly launched forward again, sending both of them sliding toward the ledge. 

“Are you mad?!” Shrewleap shrieked, puffing up. “You’ll send us both falling to our deaths!”

“Maybe. But maybe, only you.” Wolfstep panted, shaking the blood from his eye.

He’s lost it! Shrewleap realized in horror.

Fangs glinting in the light of a lightning bolt, Wolfstep lunged for Shrewleap’s throat with the speed of a striking adder. 

Right before his teeth could make contact, Shrewleap managed to block his throat with his bad leg. He screeched in pain as Wolfstep bit down with enough force to pierce deep into his flesh. 

The bite had been intended to kill him.

When the larger tom realized what Shrewleap had done, he crunched down harder, eyes shining with predatory hate, as if taunting him to rip his leg free from his grasps —which would leave his throat exposed to another attack.

Instead, Shrewleap reached up, digging his claws into the back of Wolfstep’s head to keep him from being able to pull away to have the opportunity to strike again. Despite the severe pain, he knew that as long as Wolfstep’s teeth were stuck in his leg, they couldn’t aim for his vitals.

Growling, Wolfstep shook him like a dog with dying prey, yanking against Shrewleap’s claws, shredding his own ear in the process. He released his grip on his leg, mouth wide once more.

Shrewleap furiously kicked up, catching Wolfstep’s chin with his back claws hard enough to clash his teeth together. He tried to wriggle free, desperately squirming backward, only for his attacker to pounce right back onto him.

“Shrewleap!” He could hear Brightheart cry from afar. “We’re coming!”

“I recognize the lovebirds,” Wolfstep hissed into Shrewleap’s ear. Blood and water trickled from his chin, onto Shrewleap’s face.  “Once they get here, I’ll kill one of them if I can. Both maybe. I’ll start with the fluffy one; his mate seems the type to freeze up if she saw that, so maybe I’ll be able to get her next. Then I’ll go down into your camp, and I’ll take out as many of you as I can.”

Ferncloud! Birchkit! Shrewleap gritted his teeth as Wolfstep slammed his head against the very edge of the quarry. From this height, he could see their shapes, small as moths, scrambling below. Brightheart and Cloudtail were on their way, but by the time they got there, it would be too late for him. Leafpool, Cinderpelt, Frostfur, Goldenflower, Longtail, Brightheart, Cloudtail—

“—Don’t touch them!” He rasped, scrabbling helplessly against the slick stone.

“What are you going to do about it anyway?” Wolfstep bared his teeth. “There’s nothing you even can do!”

Trying to come up with some sort of last-ditch plan to protect his Clanmates, Shrewleap lashed out with his back legs despite the futility, knowing any damage he did from this position would be superficial. One back claw managed to sink into the warrior’s flank, so he kept raking that spot. It wasn’t much, but the hiss of pain it got from Wolfstep was still something.

“I get that you’re not going down without a fight,” Wolfstep taunted. His pupils lit up as another streak of lighting broke the sky, flashing with vindication as he rose his claws above his head, preparing to strike him off the ledge. “But you are going down.”

An opening.

“Then you’re coming with me!” 

Lunging upward, Shrewleap sank his teeth into Wolfstep’s chest, and pulled. 

The momentum of Wolfstep’s attack couldn’t be stopped now, even as the gray tom shrieked and tried to pull back. Unbalancing himself like that had been just the opening Shrewleap had been looking for, and now, it was too late to return from.

Shrewleap leaned back with all of his might, carrying them both backward, keeping his teeth firmly clenched around Wolfstep’s chest. He pushed his back legs against the ledge—

Airborne. 

For a brief flash, both Wolfstep and Shrewleap had lost all contact with the ground, and were in a free fall. 

Within that second, Shrewleap let go of Wolfstep, and lashed his back foot out.

His toes hit stone, and dug into it for a fraction of a second more in an attempt to slow his descent. He turned his body as much as he could. One of his dewclaws barely caught on a groove on the rock face.

His mind raced as he clung on. He had a couple heartbeats at most to either get up or fall before his paw slipped. He scrabbled his paw pad against the wet wall to find that there were no more groves his claws could grab. The ledge was too far out of reach. His weight was quickly becoming too much for his dewclaw to handle. He was running out of options.

He was going to fall. Maybe, if he let go early, he’d be able to orient himself well enough to take the brunt of the damage to his paws. Maybe he’d survive long enough for Cinderpelt to get to him.

Do or die. This was it.

A sudden flash of dark gray darted down towards Shrewleap’s scruff, catching hold of it before his paw finally slipped.

The cat grunted with effort, claws sinking into the cliff side as they backed away, heaving Shrewleap up.

The brown tom did his best to help his rescuer, pawing at the stone wall in an attempt to take some of the weight off of the other cat’s jaw.

The moment his claws made their way overtop the ledge, Shrewleap yanked himself up with the help of the gray cat, panting in effort. He fell to his belly, squeezing his eyes closed tightly, happy to be back on solid ground.

For one brief second after opening them again, Shrewleap took in the dark gray fur and blue eyes of the cat in front of him, and thought it was Cinderpelt. That quickly passed though, because as his vision stopped swimming, he instantly recognized him as Crowfeather: the WindClan cat who went on the journey with Squirrelflight.

“Thank you,” he gasped, pressing his paws against the ground to steady himself.

“I’m just glad you didn’t fall,” Crowfeather shook his pelt, as if unsettled by something. 

Cloudtail and Brightheart bounded forward, fur bristling and claws unsheathed.

“With us or against us?” Cloudtail called before he even came to a stop.

“With us!” Shrewleap wheezed. “Crowfeather of WindClan; he helped me up. I would’ve fallen.”

“Are you alright?!” Brightheart sniffed at his injured leg, her eye round with worry. “We need to hurry and get you to Cinderpelt!”

Shrewleap regarded his leg with a hiss. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the deep bite throbbed with pain. He was pretty sure Wolfstep’s teeth had punctured through muscle.

“You need to see Cinderpelt,” the one-eyed warrior affirmed, laying her tail over his shoulders to lead him down the path into camp, leaving Cloudtail to interrogate Crowfeather himself. 

Gritting his teeth, Shrewleap limped down the path, ears pinned tightly. The fight had only lasted a moment, but had been grueling. It was his first life-or-death battle with an enemy Clan, and although he’d managed to scrape by at the end, he didn’t feel any of the glory or pride he’d heard so much about growing up.

“Mouse-brain! I just fixed that thing up!” Cinderpelt rushed to his side with a bundle of herbs in her mouth. She was trying to sound humorous, but Shrewleap could see the genuine concern in her eyes as she swiftly applied a poultice to the bite. “Hold still.”

As Cinderpelt tended to his wound, Shrewleap looked over her shoulder, heart dropping at the sight. 

StarClan…

Wolfstep hadn’t survived the fall. He’d landed neck-first, and it, along with his spine, was cracked at an odd angle. His skull had fractured from the force of the fall, and blood pooled outward around his head. The only comfort was that despite the gruesome visage, he’d likely died instantly on impact.

Shrewleap forced himself not to look away, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to face what he’d done. 

Wolfstep was dead. Shrewleap had caused it. Those were, objectively, the facts. He didn’t regret it; it came down to either him or Wolfstep surviving their conflict, Leafpool or Wolfstep, maybe even his family and Wolfstep. There was no way all of them were coming out of that conflict alive, and when weighed against the lives of his Clanmates and himself, Shrewleap would always let the ShadowClan trespasser be the one to fall. The gray warrior was the one who forced them into that situation in the first place.

Remorse, though, was different than regret. He had never wanted to take a life, but his actions had directly led to the end of Wolfstep’s. He didn’t know if the gray tom had a family, or friends, or if any of them supported his decision to back Mudclaw, but he wasn’t coming home to them tonight. The Code said a warrior didn’t need to kill in order to secure victory in battle, but in life or death situations, it could be something necessary for survival. Shrewleap had always known, vaguely, that as a warrior, he may be put into that situation, but he’d never actually expected it.

With a shuddery breath, Shrewleap finally allowed his gaze to fall to his paws, and hoped he’d never have to again.

“When we give his body to ShadowClan, we tell them he attacked us, he slipped, fell, and died in the process.” Frostfur sucked a breath through her teeth. “We don’t tell them he found our camp. We don’t tell them he fell into our camp. We certainly don’t tell them who it was he was fighting; we only just started to scrape into their good graces after Shrewleap saved that apprentice, so we certainly don’t want to undo that by implicating him in this situation. We might need that sliver of goodwill someday.”

Shrewleap shifted his weight to reduce some of the pain on his injured leg. The weight in his chest was worse. He wished he could alleviate that instead.

“Get his fur out from Wolfstep’s claws. They’re fox-hearts, not mouse-brains,” Frostfur continued. “Even if they know Wolfstep was in the wrong and he acted against orders, they tend to hold grudges.”

The patter of jogging paws announced the return of the battle patrol. 

“Mudclaw is dead, and we now have a place to gather on full moons, seemingly by StarClan’s will,” Firestar announced, though notably without joy. “Onewhisker is okay… but has proclaimed that WindClan will no longer be a friend to ThunderClan.”

Shrewleap was thrown for a loop by the audacity. ThunderClan had swooped in, how many times, to drag them out of trouble. They’d saved Onewhisker’s life that night! He’d even heard stories of Firestar bringing WindClan back to the forest after having been driven out! For a brief, angry moment, Shrewleap couldn’t help but remember what Dustpelt had said. Part of him hoped they’d crumble, and that they’d beg Firestar for help despite having spat in the face of his kindness, and then have to pick up the pieces of whatever pitiful mess they got themselves into this time without ThunderClan bailing them out.

But he knew Firestar wouldn’t let that happen, and he was glad that was the case.

He doesn’t like killing his enemies either. Shrewleap noticed. A big part of him was relieved that his leader, though willing and able to kill to protect his Clanmates, and having done so in the past, valued life enough to not celebrate those types of victories.

Anxious, he began sweeping the crowd, searching for his friends and father among them.

He spotted Squirrelflight almost immediately, but she had run up to Leafpool first, as she should. He could wait to hear the details of battle from her later.

Sootfur was striding beside his siblings, a spark in his eyes that Shrewleap hadn’t seen for a while. It was as if he finally felt useful again.

Dustpelt curled around Ferncloud and Birchkit briefly, before approaching Shrewleap with concern. “Your mother said you almost died?!”

“I’m fine, you know how she frets,” Shrewleap reassured him. “It was only a single ShadowClan warrior, seems like he was acting on his own. A bitten up leg, a close call at the edge of the hollow, but I’m okay.”

That seemed to ease some of Dustpelt’s worries, because he prepared to head out again. “I’m going to go get your brother and the others. I want to make sure they’re okay too.”

As his father left, Shrewleap was almost instantly bombarded by a streak of dark ginger fluff.

“Leafpool told me what happened!” Squirrelflight nearly barreled him over. “She said he was attacking her, had nearly caught her when you got between them to protect her, and that he almost killed you!” She buried her nose into his shoulder. “Thank you so much…” 

Heart skipping a beat, Shrewleap fought back the urge to rest his head on hers. She has a mate. He reminded himself. Your emotions are running high after a near death experience, she has a mate, and if he sees me reciprocating her affection, no matter how platonic it is on her side, he might start quarreling with her again. 

Squirrelflight pulled away, tail puffing up when she noticed his injury. “Are you okay?!”

“It’s a nasty bite,” he admitted, “but Cinderpelt got to it quick, so I’ll be fine.” Probably. As long as I don’t die of infection.

“You need to stop getting that leg injured so much,” she scolded him. “It only just healed!” 

“It’s not like it’ll make it much worse. Better this leg than my good one.”

Better this leg than my throat. He added silently, opting to not tell her how close he’d come to that fate.

Shrewleap sniffed the air, realizing that the smell of blood was not just his own. He quickly checked over his friend’s pelt, a sharp pang of alarm when he noticed the gash. “Your side!” 

“It looks worse than it is,” the ginger warrior reassured him. “It was quite the battle, but no major injuries, other than Mudclaw.”

Morbid curiosity got the best of Shrewleap. “Who killed him?”

“StarClan smote —smited? No, smote— him I think.” Squirrelflight licked her paw and swiped it over her face.

“I’m sorry, did you say StarClan SMOTE Mudclaw?!” Shrewleap recoiled. “As in, divine wrath, struck him down where he stood?!”

“Yeah. We’re pretty sure, at least.” The fluffy she-cat shuddered slightly. “He was in the middle of fleeing after a big speech, and lightning struck a great tree, it fell on top of him, and simultaneously gave us a way to get to a new gathering place!”

Well. Shrewleap cast a nervous glance at the sky. There’s another reason to not upset StarClan, I suppose.

I wonder if Wolfstep will walk among the stars.

I hope he will.

Notes:

Fun Fact: the erins think Nightwing and Wolfstep are the cats who attacked Leafpool and fell into ThunderClan camp.
Fun Fact: Nightwing is Smokepaw’s mother.
Fun Fact: Because Shrewleap saved Smokepaw’s life, Nightwing has a reason not to start a quarrel with ThunderClan, which makes it easier for Leafpool to escape as only one cat comes after her, which means she didn’t need Crowfeather to save her :) I wonder what that means in terms of this story

Also: my headcanon for why tf Wolfstep (and Nightwing in main series) would choose to attack ThunderClan camp on their own: Nightwing was mad with grief after losing Smokepaw and easily riled up over anything and everything, so Wolfstep easily convinced her in the main timeline to join him on his attack due to their shared heartache as parents (which doesn’t happen in this au obviously). Wolfstep was told by Mudclaw that Onewhisker was the one to mortally wound his son, Badgerfang, and that drove him to what basically turned into an attempt to do as much damage to ThunderClan as possible in retaliation. Since he couldn’t be the one to take out Onewhisker, his goal was to wreak havoc on his friends in ThunderClan to punish him and everyone who allied with him.

Chapter 11: Toxin in RiverClan

Notes:

Quick content warning of warrior cats typical ableism Shrewleap is facing and kinda having to swallow back his anger over. I do not condone it nor do I think someone should pretend to be okay with it just so they don’t seem ungrateful.

Also: spent all of June prepping for Artfight and all of July actually doing Artfight, so sorry for the longer than average delay on literally everything. Hopefully this being a longer chapter makes up for it.

“Congratulations!” Shrewleap touched his nose to Sootfur’s.

“I just can’t believe it,” the gray tom rambled, pride welling in his amber eyes. “I swear I’ll be the best uncle possible! And— and I’ll catch Sorreltail whatever she wants to eat! I’ll fluff her nest every day!”

Shrewleap purred and nudged his friend’s side. “You’ll have to compete with Brackenfur then, he’s already pampering her.”

“Couldn’t ask for a better tom for my sister,” Sootfur mrrowed decisively. “Brave, handsome, devoted, and so very caring and kind.” 

“Strong too; and that’s good news for the kits, they’ll likely be healthy.” Licking his paw and wiping it over his face, Shrewleap wondered how many there’d be. Hopefully, he’d get the chance to mentor one; he thought it could be a great experience to train his friend’s kin, helping raise the young cat to become a great member of ThunderClan. 

He’d proven that he was still capable of being a warrior, but he wasn’t sure Firestar would see he was capable of being a mentor as well. He couldn’t help but notice that when Longtail had gotten injured, Sootfur had been given to Thornclaw, and that Brightheart still hadn’t gotten an apprentice despite her brothers having more than one.

Regardless, everyone’s mood brightened with the news of Sorreltail’s pregnancy. Kits meant renewed hope even when times were good, so it was even more precious a moment to know they’d be the first born in their new home. They’d be a symbol of ThunderClan’s triumph in spite of the old forest’s destruction.

With a stretch, Shrewleap picked up the remaining bones of their shared meal, limping through camp beside Sootfur to go bury them, contentedly listening to the pale warrior chatter on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Birchkit pounce around with Whitepaw, and purred softly. The duo kicked up rocks, tussling and squeaking, chasing each other back and forth. Birchkit tackled Whitepaw backward with a battle cry, and then hopped away, leaving her belly up on the ground—

—Shrewleap’s purr cut off with a hitched breath.

Her white fur was gray now, her legs sprawled the same way, in the same spot in camp, but her neck, his neck—

Only a second later, the white she-cat got up, chasing after Birchkit again.

“Are you..?” Sootfur seemed to have noticed the tremor in Shrewleap’s breath, because he dropped his cheerful bounce for concern.

“Yeah, I just… I’m alright.” Shrewleap shook his brown ticked coat, glancing down at his leg for a heartbeat. It was healed now; just a visible scar. The wound in his mind though, the invisible one, had not yet faded.

It will, over time.

The sound of a returning patrol peeled him away from that night with Wolfstep. He raised his head to greet them, only to instantly grow tense.

Ice blue eyes met his, only briefly, as if the RiverClan tom barely considered his existence, before settling on Brambleclaw, and then Leafpool. Hawkfrost had been escorted into camp by the patrol, along with Mosspelt of RiverClan, who held herself in a much more respectful manner.

“What is HE doing here?! He fought with Mudclaw!” Sootfur snarled, taking the words straight from Shrewleap’s mouth. Other Clanmates echoed the sentiment, their shoulders bristling at the blue-eyed tom.

“He stopped when he realized Mudclaw was wrong,” Brambleclaw argued. “He helped me at the end of the battle!”

“You’re right. I did side with Mudclaw at first, because I truly believed him when I shouldn’t have.” Hawkfrost spoke up, keeping his fur flat and his demeanor cool. “I shouldn’t have been so naive to his manipulation. That’s on me. But I swear, when I found out he was wrong, it’s like Brambleclaw said: I’m sorry for my actions.”

ThunderClan grumbled suspiciously among themselves, but settled down.

“What are you doing here then?” Firestar hopped down from his den, striding toward the two RiverClan cats. 

“Mosspelt was going to come alone initially, but I felt I should personally ask for your help, as a show of remorse and genuine need.” He dipped his head, shoulders going slack. “After all, I love Leopardstar. She’s like a mother to me.”

Shrewleap tilted his head, unwillingly drawn in by the way Hawkfrost only dropped controlled bits and pieces of whatever tale he was telling. He knew it was intentionally done, but it piqued his interest regardless. Around him, his Clanmates murmured curiously.

The tabby colorpoint continued. “She’s sick. My sister isn’t good enough of a medicine cat to heal her herself, so we’ve come to request the aid of Leafpool.”

Bristling beside Shrewleap, Sootfur stepped forward, between the RiverClan cats and their sightline of Leafpool, raising his voice. “NO! StarClan no! Why would we send our medicine cat with you?! Figure it out yourselves, fishmunchers.”

 “Sootfur, settle down,” Firestar ordered, narrowing his green eyes at Hawkfrost. “Let me think about this.”

Hesitating for a moment, Mosspelt spoke up. “We wouldn’t be asking if we weren’t out of options,” she said softly. “You of all cats know we shouldn’t forsake each other after our shared journey.”

Dipping his head, Firestar conceded. “Alright. Leafpool, if you want to go, you may.”

Leafpool hopped to her feet, torbie tail perking up.

“But you’re taking some cats with you.”

“Understood,” Leafpool meowed. “Let me get a few herbs ready.”

Shrewleap watched her duck into the medicine den, before turning his gaze back to the emissaries suspiciously, only half listening to Sootfur’s frustrated hissing beside him. Come to request the aid of Leafpool… He swished his tail. Not the aid of Cinderpelt? Not the aid of ThunderClan? Leafpool, specifically?

The brown warrior believed Mosspelt was being genuine. He also believed Leopardstar was sick, and that Mothwing was in over her head with whatever it was. What he didn’t believe, however, was that Hawkfrost had an ounce of sincerity in his entire body. As far as Shrewleap was concerned, he’d confirmed his true colors the night of Wolfstep’s— Mudclaw’s death, and was just doing damage-control now.

Shrewleap didn’t expect Leafpool to motion him over with her tail when she exited her den, and looked over his shoulder to see if she was asking for someone else. When she nodded at him again, he got up, much to the wide-mouthed indignance of Sootfur, and came to her.

“You want me? Why?” The tom skeptically meowed. “I limp.”

“A little extra time on the journey isn’t a problem —unless it would hurt you to travel—”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Leafpool sounded relieved. “It’s more of the fact that we’d need to cross through ShadowClan territory,” she explained. “WindClan has been more aggressive toward us since Onestar’s proclamation, so they may give us trouble if we try to go through their territory to get to RiverClan.”

“Which is why we’re going through ShadowClan’s,” Shrewleap filled in the blanks. “And ShadowClan still have a bit of grace toward me.” Not that it’ll last much longer. He figured. Clans are fickle in their loyalties, may as well make use of it as long as I can.

“We’ll be taking the path along the lake anyway, so we won’t be deep in their territory, but they’ll be less hostile if we can smooth things over first.” She nudged a bundle of traveling herbs toward him, which he took without question, nodding along.

Squirrelflight and Bramblelcaw arrived alongside Hawkfrost and Mosspelt.

“Are you ready to go, Leafpool?” Hawkfrost leaned forward, cold eyes locked onto her in a way that made Shrewleap feel like she was a little songbird he was hunting. The tom didn’t move his eyes until after she nodded, and the group stood to leave. When Shrewleap followed after, he finally seemed to see him, eyes flickering up and down skeptically. “Oh, he’s coming?”

“I am.” Shrewleap tried to keep his tone friendly.

The RiverClan tom beamed, fangs flashing in the sunlight. “I’m Hawkfrost.”

“I know.”

As the group trekked throughout ThunderClan territory, Shrewleap trailed along silently. Squirrelflight was mostly talking to Leafpool and Brambleclaw, both of whom were mostly talking to Hawkfrost, who was pulling that same charming act of storytelling and awful puns. 

Mosspelt was the other odd one out, so she paced beside Shrewleap, regarding the quartet with awkward discomfort.

The tortie cleared her throat. “How’s prey running here in ThunderClan?” She winced as she spoke, glancing at Shrewleap’s legs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It's fine. It didn’t occur to me that way until you apologized,” Shrewleap said curtly, forcing his fur to lie flat. 

He’d gotten used to those types of comments; the ones that were common phrases corrected and stumbled over by cats trying to be overly sensitive to his feelings. He knew they were trying to be kind, but it made him more irritated than grateful, as it boiled him down to what he couldn’t do in the eyes of the cat speaking to him. Still, he felt the pressure to be polite about it; with how the Clans operated, being open about how it annoyed him would make them see him as bitter and ungrateful. It was like Cinderpelt had said: things were better for cats like them than it used to be, but there was still a ways to go, and it was his job to try to pave the way for future generations. If that meant gritting his teeth and saying “don’t worry about it” instead of voicing his frustrations, then he’d just have to do that.

The tortie she-cat still smelled vaguely of embarrassment, keeping her head low.

Shrewleap changed the subject. “What’s happening to Leopardstar?”

“I’m not sure, I’m no medicine cat,” Mosspelt meowed, finally looking back up to hold Shrewleap’s gaze for the conversation. He appreciated that she did that instead of wallowing in her comment at least. “She started getting sick earlier this moon, it’s been ongoing, and she won’t get better despite Mothwing’s efforts.” She lowered her voice, barely audible as she stared at her Clanmate ahead. “She is a good medicine cat.”

“So is Leafpool,” he tried to soothe her worry.

As they neared the ShadowClan border, Squirrelflight fell back a bit, despite Brambleclaw’s over-the-shoulder glare, to walk alongside Shrewleap. 

“Just checking up to see how you’re doing.” Her tail was always fluffy, but Shrewleap knew her well enough to know when it was bristling outward more than usual, even if it was only slightly.

“I’m good,” he assured her, then pointing at the trip ahead with his muzzle, “are you?”

“Everything is going absolutely swimmingly!” She mimicked Hawkfrost’s voice for the last word, causing Mosspelt to snort with laughter, only to cover it with a cough.

Both ThunderClan warriors stopped talking, glancing over at the tortie. She hesitated uncomfortably for a moment, and then dipped her head in acknowledgment, trotting forward out of earshot.

Shrewleap kept his voice quiet. “You don’t like him either?”

Squirrelflight shook her head slightly. “Brambleclaw wants him in his life, they’re brothers, but…” Her nose wrinkled. “Shrewleap, there’s something wrong about him.”

Murmuring in agreement, Shrewleap narrowed his eye ahead. Hawkfrost had gotten another laugh out of Leafpool, and had snuck his tail close enough to brush hers.

Watching the same thing as Shrewleap, Squirrelflight grew tense beside him, whispering, “I just wish he’d stay away from Leafpool.”

“She doesn’t…” Shrewleap hesitated, lowering his voice to a soft whisper. “Like him, does she?”

The ginger fur of Squirrelflight’s spine rose indignantly as she whipped her head around to face him.

“Because she’s a medicine cat, there’s a Code, she can’t—”

“—SHH!” Squirrelflight slammed her paws down, blocking Shrewleap’s path for a heartbeat. “You’re right: Leafpool is a medicine cat, which is exactly why you should never speculate on things like that again! If you plan on insulting her character with those insinuations, you best keep it to yourself. Whatever Hawkfrost is acting like is not on her!”

“Sorry,” Shrewleap grumbled, flattening his ears. “I shouldn't've said it that way.”

Clenching her jaw, Squirrelflight lashed her tail. “Just don’t say things like that about her. You don’t get it, you don’t have to be so careful with your words when it comes to yourself, because you’re—” she shook her pelt and looked away, stopping at the ShadowClan border. “—Her reputation is important, and it's always under scrutiny.”

Quietly sitting by the border, Shrewleap tried to push his discomfort from his mind as he waited for a ShadowClan patrol to show up. It didn’t take long for the scent of a group of four cats to weave through the woods.

“Shrewleap!” A nearly familiar voice cracked from the undergrowth as a fluffy gray cat emerged.

It was Smokepaw; much leggier than the last time Shrewleap had seen him, though still soft behind the ears. His thick tail stuck straight in the air like a cheerful plume of smoke, and his green eyes were clear and bright.

“Well, look at you! You’ve grown like a weed!” Shrewleap exclaimed, sniffing his friend. “You’ll be bigger than me soon!”

“I’m nearly warrior sized!” The gray tom purred. “A little taller, and then Nightwing says I’ll grow into my height!”

“You’ll still need a good deal of training before you get your name,” Oakfur meowed, turning to the ThunderClan warrior. “Hello Shrewleap. Are you well?”

“Yes.” The brown tom dipped his head gratefully, a silent thanks for how Oakfur had helped save him all those moons ago. “We’re here to escort a medicine patrol to RiverClan, will you grant us passage?”

“A question that should be directed toward me.” Russetfur shouldered herself to the front, glaring down at the patrol critically. Her sour green eyes met Shrewleap’s, narrowing further, ears twitching back. “We were told in advance that we’d be escorting the RiverClanners back today, so that we shall do.” She slashed her tail through the air, whipping around. “Follow.”

As the group paced along the marshy ground in eyeshot of the lake, Shrewleap marveled around at the territory. It was amazing how seamlessly the forest of ThunderClan blended with ShadowClan, only to be so starkly different not far in. It didn’t smell like it had back in the forest… Fresh pine, instead of that sickly Thunderpath stench.

The Thunderpath. He didn’t shiver anymore when he thought of it, only when he thought of the incident. He glanced at Smokepaw, feeling another burst of gratitude. If not for him…

Smokepaw caught his look, brightening up. The little gray tom slowed to walk beside him with a trill. “How’s prey been running in ThunderClan?” He offered the customary greeting, bright-eyed.

“Very well, thank you.” Shrewleap chose to skip the formalities, nudging Smokepaw. “How have you been?”

“Mostly good,” Smokepaw began. “I’m becoming an excellent hunter. I caught the biggest toad the other day!” He chirped proudly. “It was early in the morning, when frogs and lizard and animals of those sorts are sluggish and slow from the cold, so it wasn’t too impressive, but toads are still slippery! Anyways, I was out at dawn, and—”

Listening to the smaller tom’s story, Shrewleap felt his heart raise. It was good to see Smokepaw improving so much after the trauma he’d endured. He’d not only seemed to have healed, but to have grown into a confident young cat, and it was sobering to see how lively he’d grown up to be. He was catching big colorful birds, and getting splashed by his brother in mud puddles, and picking needles and sap from elders’ pelts.

That almost hadn’t happened.

“‘Course, I do miss Wolfstep…” The ShadowClan apprentice’s tail drooped. 

Russetfur went rigid at the mention of the tragedy.

“I’m sorry for ShadowClan’s loss,” Shrewleap lamented, doing his best to keep the memories at bay, then, attempting to shift the conversation, fell back on those pesky niceties. “Russetfur, how’s prey running in ShadowClan?”

“Excellently,” she replied tersely. “ShadowClan is full of excellent hunters and warriors, so despite being down one, we’re still thriving.”

“ThunderClan is excellent too,” Brambleclaw shot back, “despite the unprompted attack your warrior launched.”

Oh no.

“Wolfstep was a noble warrior!” Russetfur began prickling around the scruff, staring down the large tabby.

Brambleclaw scoffed in disbelief.

Shrewleap quickly shouldered between the two, hoping breaking the line of sight would dissipate some of the tension. It worked well enough, because the patrol carried on, hackles lowering and fur flattening.

“You know,” Russetfur growled, much to the returning glare of Brambleclaw, “I practically grew up with Wolfstep, I spent a lot of time with him and Foxhea…” she faltered, voice wavering for only a second before she corrected her tone. “We were around the same age. I trained with and fought alongside him for many moons. He was a great warrior.”

Not wanting the patrol to devolve into bickering, Shrewleap took a breath, mentally searching for the right words.

 “What happened to Wolfstep was tragic. ThunderClan understands that he acted without orders when he came into our territory, and none of us were harmed during his attack,” —He screeched in pain as Wolfstep bit down with enough force to pierce deep into his flesh— “so there’s no animosity on our part. His fall was unfortunate.” He’d landed neck-first, and it, along with his spine, was cracked at an odd angle. His skull had fractured from the force of the fall, and blood pooled outward around his head. “He was a good warrior, driven by something we don’t know to do something erratic after a lifetime of service to ShadowClan, and while I am sorry it ended the way it did…”

“I recognize the lovebirds,” Wolfstep hissed into Shrewleap’s ear. Blood and water trickled from his chin, onto Shrewleap’s face.  “Once they get here, I’ll kill one of them if I can. Both maybe. I’ll start with the fluffy one; his mate seems the type to freeze up if she saw that, so maybe I’ll be able to get her next. Then I’ll go down into your camp, and I’ll take out as many of you as I can.”

“ThunderClan is not to blame for his death, or for the actions he took leading up to it.” Shrewleap held the menacing deputy’s gaze firmly. “So with all due respect, Russetfur, I’d ask you to drop the animosity while escorting our medicine patrol.”

The reddish she cat’s lip twitched up, flashing her fangs, but she held her tongue for the remainder of the walk.

“Alright,” she stopped shortly, “here’s the border. We’ll send another patrol to take ThunderClan back when you’re done. Don’t even think about crossing into our territory without us.” As she turned to leave, she glared over her shoulder one last time before disappearing into the shadows of the woods.

The two warriors and Smokepaw followed right after her, with the latter raising his plumy tail in a goodbye.

Turning around to continue the journey, Shrewleap exhaled, shoulders slumping. “Not sure you needed me to come along after all, considering Russetfur’s attitude toward the whole thing.”

“That’s because she’s Russetfur,” Leafpool meowed. “The rest were at ease, and despite her, it was a nice, calm stroll.”

The walk through RiverClan territory was much more relaxed.

Trees were sparser here, and Shrewleap found himself wetting his paws on more than one occasion. Trickling streams glittered in the sunlight as the parade continued on, regaining the earlier formation of the four up front, and Mosspelt and Shrewleap at the back of the pack.

The tortie she-cat was starting to seem nervous, her face scrunched in a juxtaposition to Hawkfrost’s jovial laughter ahead.

Soon, Shrewleap could smell the distinct scent of dozens of RiverClan cats up ahead, and knew the camp must’ve been close. As he hoped along stones over a stream, it all but confirmed that the island up ahead housed it.

He was right, because Hawkfrost stopped, raising his tail, and parting a tunnel of reeds. “We’re here.”

Cats around the sandy clearing stopped what they were doing to acknowledge the group, making respectful and grateful meows and movements at Hawkfrost. 

“Hawkfrost, you’re back!”

“Glad you’re back Hawkfrost.”

“Hawkfrost, when you get the chance, could you help me with…”

“Well, you’re quite popular!” Leafpool remarked.

“I really made a splash among the Clan after my stint as temporary deputy!” Hawkfrost mrrowed, taking them toward a thorn bush overhanging the stream. “Cats have been looking to me to share the load, as Leopardstar is out of commission and Mistyfoot can’t handle it on her own.”

Curious kits poked out from the nursery: a den under a bramble thicket for protection of course, but curiously, it was reinforced with reeds and woven shells. In fact, as he passed by the other dens and saw the same thing, Shrewleap wondered what Dustpelt would think about it. He made a note to tell his father later, figuring he’d find a good way to repurpose the idea for ThunderClan.

Paws aching, Shrewleap eased himself to the ground as everyone finally walked through the mossy stones and into the medicine den. He didn’t have much time to take his surroundings in, only seeing the exhausted form of Mothwing glancing up from her position over the lumpy form of what he realized was a cat.

His breath caught in his throat.

The crumpled, ragged scrap of spotted fur, sprawled loosely in the moss, undignified and sickly, was Leopardstar. She was unrecognizable. Shrewleap remembered only the striking and regal she-cat holding herself with power and dignity, coat shiny from her fish diet and proper care… this was a husk.

Just as soon as he saw her, Hawkfrost moved to block his view. “For Leopardstar’s safety and privacy, I ask all of you but Leafpool to leave the den.

“Except for Shrewleap, right?” Squirrelflight stopped short, her green eyes wide. “He’s already lay down and it’s such a pain to keep getting up and down for him, surely you wouldn’t make him get up any more than necessary; he still has the whole way home to go.”

Catching onto her plan, Shrewleap pushed against the ground, heaving his front half up unsteadily, unbalanced on his good leg.

“I get making me and Brambleclaw leave, you have to put the safety of your leader first.” Squirrelflight laid her tail over his shoulder faux-concernedly to stop him from getting up the rest of the way. “But come on, Shrewleap’s half-blind, half-deaf, and he’s only got three working legs! He’s not a threat to anyone.”

After a moment of silence, Mothwing finally opened her mouth to respond, only to instantly be spoken over by Hawkfrost. 

“Alright, I wouldn’t ever put a crippled cat in more misery. I’m not that type of cat,” the blue-eyed tom decided, speaking more to Leafpool, and even Squirrelflight, than ever looking Shrewleap’s way.

Gritting his teeth, Shrewleap forced a grateful murmur and soft blink, drowning the burning in his chest as he made a show of lying back down. Condescending cold-hearted slimy-spoken—

Pay attention.

The ThunderClan tom rested his chin on his front paws, relaxing his body language and half-closing his eyes, but he was anything but tuned out.

Leafpool approached Leopardstar, sniffing the trembling leader, and taking in her disheveled state. “Could you catch me up on her symptoms?” The torbie turned around to face Mothwing. “Any leads?”

“We’ve floated some ideas on what it could be,” Hawkfrost explained, “but Mothwing keeps ruling them out.”

“It started with a failing appetite and lethargy,” the golden tabby medicine cat finally found her voice. “At first, we thought she was just coming down with something; nausea, tiredness, all of that is almost universal… but it got worse.” Mothwing took a bundle of moss from aside, soaking it in water and carefully laying it in front of her leader. “She started getting so thirsty, always drinking. She got delirious, confused, frightened, combative even.” She carefully tilted Leopardstar’s face up, revealing a thick thread of drool dripping from her mouth.

Shrewleap nearly recoiled at the sight. Seeing her frail body had been bad enough, but her face revealed just how bad of shape she was in. Her pupils were fully dilated, but glossy and wandering. The drool had stained the corners of her mouth, her chin, and even part of her neck

Leafpool’s tail bristled, but she didn’t back away. “The froth-mouth sickness?!”

“I thought so briefly, but the symptoms don’t match.” Tail twitching, Mothwing carefully laid Leopardstar’s head back down as Hawkfrost nudged the soaked moss closer, the leader desperately lapping at it. Mothwing continued. “Froth-mouth animals become afraid of water, she can’t seem to get enough of it. They’re also aggressive, but she hasn’t tried to bite anyone.”

“You said she’d gotten combative.”

“She never seeked out a fight,” Mothwing explained. “But when someone would try to help her back to her den, she’d get confused and wriggle away, sometimes batting at us in the process. It’s like there’s episodes of her being too delirious to realize we’re here to help.”

Leopardstar mumbled something, only to be soothed by Hawkfrost attentively licking her forehead.

“She’s been sick too long too,” Mothwing watched on tiredly. “It’s supposed to kill you not long after symptoms show up —it doesn’t even matter though, because if an injury or infection takes the life of a leader, she should come back healed.”

Leafpools amber eyes widened in concern. “She’s lost a life?”

Mothwing hesitated, looking toward Hawkfrost, who stood still. “You should be told everything we know if we want your help. Several. Same issue keeps persisting.”

“Could it be environmental?” Seemingly convinced she lacked froth-mouth sickness, Leafpool carefully placed her ear to Leopardstar’s chest. “Her heartbeat is slow.”

“Nobody else has symptoms. I checked around for any contaminants. Nothing.”

“Poisoning?”

An uncomfortable tension crackled through the air like lightning was about to strike. 

“I… I thought maybe…” Mothwing stammered. “So I induced vomiting, many times. It did nothing but make her more dehydrated.”

Leafpool stayed very quiet, checking Leopardstar over, face deep and focused. Every action she took brought even more worry to her eyes. “Mallow?”

“Wasn’t strong enough.”

“Watermint?”

“Same issue.”

The pair shot the names of herbs Shrewleap couldn’t distinguish back and forth, noting one failing or another as they went.

“I’m thinking this is an internal issue. It could just be something wrong with her body on its own. Or, if it’s not a spread sickness, maybe it originally came from something she ingested, that targeted multiple organs. It could’ve caused an infection that spread throughout her entire body: each time she lost a life, it may have only healed the organ that gave out, only for the infection to spread again.” Leafpool’s tail swished as she reached for the herb supply. “This is past my expertise. I think we should get Cinderpelt involved, but we need to stabilize her before she can get here, otherwise she might lose another life.”

“Heartbeat, weakness, dehydration,” Mothwing listed off. “Those are the most dangerous.”

“For the dehydration, I think we should give her willow leaves, just to keep vomiting at bay a little longer. It’s clearly not something she can expel by that, so it’s best to stop it for now. Sorrel for appetite.” Leafpool pawed a dosage of narrow leaves toward Mothwing, who tried coxing Leopardstar to take them. “Travelling herbs to keep her strength up?”

“She’s already taking them,” Mothwing meowed as she gathered more plants. “It’s barely keeping her afloat, isn’t helping her energy.”

“Add Lamb’s ear.” Leafpool went quiet for a moment, standing completely still, as if she were a tree weathering a storm. Then, she struck out like a snake. “Honey.”

“Honey?”

“We can rub honey on her gums, the sugar will enter her bloodstream quicker and will give her an energy spike, it’ll buy time.”

“She’ll crash fast and hard.”

“Then keep applying it,” Leafpool replied.

“Won’t her teeth rot?” Hawkfrost spoke up.

“Better deal with that later than her not survive long enough for that to happen,” Mothwing backed Leafpool. “Heartbeat? I’ve considered Foxglove, but the risk of it slowing her heart instead of just stabilizing it is too high. The sugar might help a little, but…”

“Hawthorn?” Leafpool suggested. “A side effect is rapid heart rate; usually a bad thing, but hers is so slow that we should dose her too high to get it up.” The ThunderClan torbie began to move toward the exit, Mothwing and Hawkfrost following close behind. “The first of the sweet sadge should be growing by now, we should get her some sap in case it’s an internal infection. I’ll go for that, Mothwing, get the hawthorn, Hawkfrost, get honey.”

With that, the cats bolted off as if there was a fire at their heels, leaving the medicine den still and silent. The only real sound or movement was that of Leopardstar’s weak breath, quietly trickling through her nose as her flank rose and fell faintly. She rustled slightly.

“Mudfur..?” Leopardstar rose her head groggily, glazed eyes searching toward Shrewleap. “Father?”

“No, I’m sorry.” Shrewleap shuffled closer to her, ears flattening in concern. 

“Who are you?!” She spat, suddenly hostile, then, becoming more uncertain, “or do I know you? I’m sorry. Lately I can’t really…”

“I’m from ThunderClan,” Shrewleap explained. “You’re very sick, and our medicine cat is here to help you.”

A brief clarity came to her face. “How long has it been since I was last lucid?”

“I —I’m not sure. I wish I could help.” Shrewleap sniffed her forehead worriedly. She didn’t smell the way a cat with whitecough did, only stinking in the way an elder struggling to groom their fur. “Mothwing and Leafpool are working on it. They’re going to give you honey to keep your energy up when they get back, hawthorn I think, your heart is slow. I can’t remember the last thing, it’s to help in case you have an internal infection. We’re going to bring Cinderpelt here too. They’ll fix this.”

“If they can’t, Hawkfrost’s a good deputy… no.” She shook her head. “Mistyfoot. Mistyfoot’s here again. She’s my deputy. She’ll take care of the Clan.”

“Everything will be okay,” Shrewleap tried to convince her, heart sinking, as if settling in silt at the sight of the once-mighty leader.

Leopardstar sighed, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against the cold ground. She was silent for a moment, before cracking open one glassy eye and flickering it up at Shrewleap.

“Mudfur..?”

Shrewleap gently placed his front paw over hers.

Muffled voices from outside of the den caught Shrewleap’s right ear. They must be back. He shuffled back to his original position, angling his ear to catch the hushed conversation.

“Thank you for coming,” Hawkfrost’s voice said in a whisper.

“Of course,” Leafpool replied softly. “She needs help.”

“I… Brambleclaw told me you stood up for me,” the RiverClan tom’s voice trembled. “You believed I was better than that. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“You’re doing what’s right now,” Leafpool meowed, “and I believe you meant well by it.”

“I did, and I… I’ve thought about it a lot. What Brambleclaw said you’d said. I want to be better, to be that type of tom; the one you believe I could be.” His voice lowered even further. “You inspire me to be great, Leafpool.”

“Hawkfrost, I…”

Shrewleap held his breath, stricken with dread. Please Leafpool. Please don’t say anything incriminating. It doesn’t have to be flirting. It could just be him being grateful. Just as long as you don’t say anything incriminating. Please.

Mothwing’s arrival cut the conversation short, partially to Shrewleap’s relief, followed inside by the other two. They instantly began tending to Leopardstar.

Leafpool shot him a glance. “Get the others ready, we’re going to leave as soon as we can stabilize her.”

Nodding to his friend, Shrewleap pushed to his feet, going to find Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw for the journey home. 

The pair were right outside, and got to their feet before he even got the chance to fill them in.

“Get ready to go, we’re going home to alert Cinderpelt,” Shrewleap explained, even as Leafpool exited the medicine den. 

“We have to be quick,” Leafpool said breathlessly. “We’ve bought time, but we need to get Cinderpelt here quickly.”

“Before you go,” Hawkfrost ran to her side, tucking a bright orange lily behind her ear. “These only grow on RiverClan territory, I want ThunderClan to have one as a token of thanks; you’ve helped us despite borders, and we’re grateful to you.”

Leafpool’s amber eyes widened.

“Aren’t those poisonous?” Shrewleap tilted his head slightly to the side, holding Hawkfost’s cold gaze with his own.

Hawkfrost’s eyes gleamed as he finally seemed to see him, though Shrewleap couldn’t quite pin with what. Was it annoyance? Amusement? Apprehension?

Whatever it was, it faded quickly.

“Obviously,” the tabby colorpoint mrrowed with laughter, “just don’t eat them.”

The journey home was a lot harder than the journey there.

Aching from the mix of cold and constant movement, Shrewleap was starting to slow down. The travelling herbs were wearing off. His limp was growing heavier with each step he took. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up with the rest of the group, and was beginning to fear he’d fall behind and slow them down. He envisioned camp, his soft nest, a good meal and a good rest. He just had to stick it out a bit longer.

Squirrelflight glanced over her shoulder, tail puffing up. She stopped in her tracks, letting Shrewleap catch up to her, and slowed to match his stride. “Lean on me.”

Wincing, Shrewleap complied, breath heavy as his lungs tried to keep up with the other cats.

“Guys?” Squirrelflight called. “You go on ahead, get to Cinderpelt. We’ll catch up eventually.”

Brambleclaw looked back at her worriedly, but did as he was told, running on ahead with Leafpool.

Pressing close to his side, Squirrelflight watched intently as they got further away, waiting until they were out of earshot. “Fill me in.”

“She’s lost a few lives to this thing,” Shrewleap recounted. “They can’t figure it out; they don’t think it’s an infectious illness, they don’t think it’s poisoning because throwing up hasn’t helped. They think something must be wrong inside and it’s affecting multiple organs, so every time she loses a life, what’s healed gets damaged again,” he continued. “She’s very tired, sick, weak, no appetite, so thirsty, she’s drooling a lot, and her heart beat is too slow,” unlike mine right now. “She’s delirious. It seems she’s forgetting things.” Shrewleap swallowed nervously. “She thought I was her father.”

“StarClan,” Squirrelflight looked to her paws, ears flattening. “That’s horrible.”

“There’s one other thing.” Should I even tell her? “It’s about Leafpool and Hawkfrost. You won’t like it.”

Clenching her jaw, his ginger friend went tense. “What happened?”

“When they got back from collecting herbs, they had a conversation right outside the den. They must’ve forgotten I was there, or didn’t think I could hear. Hawkfrost thanked her, not just for coming here, but for standing up for him. He said she makes him want to be a better cat. It could be nothing—”

“—What did she say back?!” Squirrelflight bristled.

“Nothing really, Mothwing got back first. It could be nothing, but the way he said it, it makes me worry…” Shrewleap took a steadying breath. “She didn’t technically do anything wrong. I won’t tell Firestar, but I think you should, for her own good.”

He expected her to snap at him, for her hothead to influence her sharp tongue with a fierce comeback or rebuttal. Instead, it seemed like her fire had been dampened, and she’d taken on a somber cloud about her.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Shrewleap waited for her to run off, to catch up with Brambleclaw and Leafpool up ahead, but she didn’t. She stayed firmly by his side, taking some of the weight off his aching leg, keeping him from faltering.

Leaning against her, Shrewleap found his mind wandering: Squirrelflight. His heart. Leopardstar’s heart. Most concerningly, whatever was happening in Leafpool’s heart. 

He found his mind looping back to the lily. Hawkfrost’s arrogance was almost too bold; surely he wouldn’t have the audacity to be that open with his intentions if there was romantic intent behind the gesture, would he? The RiverClan warrior was probably a flirt in general, but the way he stared at Leafpool and found any chance to be near her… and that look he’d given Shrewleap when he’d interrupted his poetic waxing about the lily…

That look. A shudder ran down Shrewleap’s spine as he finally placed it.

Hawkfrost had looked at him the exact same way as Wolfstep.

Chapter 12: Leaves and Flowers

Notes:

Another quick content warning for some Warriors Typical Ableism(TM), Daisy is in this chapter basically and based off how she reacted to Brightheart…

Shorter chapter but hope you like some more of the slice of life stuff. Basically moving along time and establishing/building character relations.

Grunting, Shrewleap pulled the bindweed tight. He let it drop for his mouth temporarily, panting at the effort this project was taking, and sat back to admire his work.

Though lacking the reeds and shells of RiverClan territory, Dustpelt had quickly gotten to work planning an alternative once Shrewleap had explained the intricacies of the structures. He’d replaced the weaving of reeds with the more available bindweed of the forest, using it to tie everything together, and had cleverly gathered many raspberry plants to graft into the brambles; alive and likely to grow come Newleaf.

Today, alongside Brackenfur, Dustpelt, and Spiderleg, Shrewleap had been working on the nursery —the first of the dens to be reinforced, and as Dustpelt had cleverly deduced, one in which the raspberry leaves ability to help stop bleeding for kitting queens would come in handy.

Finishing his short break, Shrewleap grabbed another branch of the raspberry plant, and layered it against the brambles. He didn’t have the same passion for building as his father, but he still appreciated how Dustpelt’s mind worked, and was curious to see what he came up with for the other dens instead of raspberries.

Suddenly sensing eyes at the back of his fur, Shrewleap paused his construction, looking down to see the wide-eyed stare of Berrykit.

The little tom had recently come to ThunderClan alongside his mother, Daisy, a previous kittypet who’d taken to the nursery with her litter. He was still far too small to play with Birchkit, but he and his two littermates were rowdy together inside the nursery. Daisy hadn’t let them out often, and Shrewleap guessed Berrykit was exploring on his own terms even now.

“What happened to your face?” Berrykit tilted his head curiously, but with no hint of disgust or fear.

“I got in a fight with a monster,” Shrewleap explained simply. “I won though.”

The little cream kit blinked up at him, unimpressed. “Are you sure?” 

For whatever reason, the unfiltered audacity of the kit brought a mrrow of laughter to Shrewleap. Berrykit was so absurdly matter-of-fact about the scars that it was almost refreshing not to have someone tiptoeing around the subject.

The kit was easily distracted however, because he rose his tail excitedly, turning to Shrewleap’s brother. “Hi Spiderleg!”

“Hey Berrykit!” Spiderleg took a break from building to trot over, lightly pretending to cuff him over the ear. “Up to trouble it seems?”

“You haven’t brought my mother her fresh-kill yet!” Berrykit scolded him. “She went and got her own!”

“Did she seem upset that she had to get her own?”

Berrykit huffed. “No.”

Ever since Daisy had come to camp, Spiderleg seemed smitten. He’d bring her fresh-kill almost daily, and play with her kits when she needed a break. Daisy and the kits, on their part, seemed to enjoy his company just as much.

Licking the remaining mouse blood from her mouth, Daisy came trotting back from the fresh-kill pile, tail raised in a greeting. “Berrykit! I told you to stay in the nursery!”

“But Spiderleg is out here!” Berrykit whined. “I wanted to say hi!”

Daisy shooed him back inside, before turning back to the construction crew. “Sorry about him interrupting you,” she apologized breathlessly. “He’s quite fond of you.”

Spiderleg mumbled something shyly, shuffling his paws, until Dustpelt “accidentally” dropped a branch onto him. “I’m glad he does.” Spiderleg rubbed his head. “Bonding with your clanmates is important.”

“Could you get us some water?” Dustpelt spoke over Spiderleg. “If not, that’s fine, but we’re getting thirsty and I’m in the Build-Zone and don’t want to stop if I can help it.”

“—Oh! Yes, of course.” The cream-colored she-cat turned away, heading toward some moss.

Dustpelt cast a disgruntled look at Spiderleg. “Firestar was a kittypet. They can integrate into the Clan. That said, I don’t think you should behave so fondly around Daisy and her kittypet kits. She won’t even take a proper Clan name.”

“I’m not that fond of her,” Spiderleg got defensive, shrugging with a growl. “I just wanted to show Firestar I could be responsible enough to be a mentor. That’s all.”

Dustpelt gave an approving nod, but Shrewleap rolled his eye, shaking his head.

Unaware of the conversation having centered around her, Daisy returned with soaked moss, handing a clump to each of the four toms.

“Thank you Daisy.” Shrewleap took his with a grateful nod. “How’ve you been settling?”

“Mixed feelings,” Daisy hummed uncertainly. “I like it here, even with the mixed welcome within the Clan… and I’m glad that the twolegs won’t be able to take my kits from me, but it’s dangerous out here. I’m scared they’ll end up like you.”

Shrewleap bristled.

“Oh! No! I didn’t mean—” Daisy scrambled. “I just meant —I just don’t want them to end up hurt or maimed like you did!”

Flattening his ears, Shrewleap watched as Daisy began to panic, words tumbling from her mouth even as she attempted to catch them.

“I don’t want them to suffer like you are!”

“Are?” Shrewleap asked coldly.  

“I— I’m sorry. I put my paws in my mouth sometimes and I didn’t mean to—” The frantic queen backed away. “I’m going to —the kits are probably hungry,” Daisy stumbled over her words, and her paws, quickly ducking into the nursery.

Turning back to his work with a twitching tail, Shrewleap tried to cool off. She’s new to this way of life. Before Brightheart and me, she’d never seen such intense scarring. He tried his best to rationalize the anger away, but it stuck in his mind regardless.

Recoiling with a sudden hiss of pain, Shrewleap raised a paw to his muzzle. Sure enough, a thorn had pricked him in his lapse of attention, and was firmly buried in his skin.

“Go get that taken care of.” Dustpelt flicked his tail. “Don’t worry, we’ll still have plenty of work to get done when you get back.”

Trekking up the cliffside, Shrewleap could smell the aromatics of the medicine den before he even made it to the bramble screen protecting the cave. He peeked around, sticking his head into the den to see Cinderpelt hard at work.

The dark gray she-cat was dutifully sorting through piles of herbs strewn across the sandy floor, instead of neatly tucked away in the crags of the walls like they usually were. She was counting and muttering to herself, but stopped when she noticed Shrewleap. 

“Pricked yourself on a thorn?”

“Yes.” The brown tom dipped his head, starting to back away. “Sorry to intrude, I can come back if you’re busy.”

“No, just taking inventory, rationing,” Cinderpelt sighed, nudging her work aside to get a better look at Shrewleap’s muzzle. “The type of thing usually reserved for junior medicine cats.”

Shrewleap grimaced as Cinderpelt plucked the thorn from his face. “Leafpool’s coming home tomorrow, right?”

“Who knows how long she’ll stay.” Spitting the thorn aside, Cinderpelt went back to her work, her tail lashing violently. “It seems the regiment we’ve got Leopardstar on has kept her from losing any more lives, but she isn’t getting better either, and I can’t keep walking back and forth between our territories.”

It’s RiverClan’s problem, not ours. Leopardstar is their leader, should be their herbs and their medicine cat taking care of her. Shrewleap found himself thinking, feeling the coolness of the ground seep into his pawpads. Ideally, the lesson of the journey could stick around forever, and Shrewleap wanted to believe that the Clans would stick together against major threats and protect one another from collapse, but ThunderClan needed to come first. They’d done what they could for Leopardstar.

Bright as sunset, the orange lily dangled from a crag near the top of the den, stark and vibrant against the gray. It had been dried to be preserved, and was well out of reach of any kits, and a grown cat would have to stretch to get to it, but it was a pretty decoration.

A symbol of aid despite borders. The ThunderClan warrior remembered. A pretty thing, a pretty thought, and a flower that would last a pretty long time, but would inevitably crumble someday. He hoped it wouldn’t be too soon.

“Just curious,” Shrewleap narrowed his eyes at the flower, suddenly uneasy. “I know they’re poisonous, but what does it look like when a cat’s eaten a lily?”

Cinderpelt stopped sorting, narrowing her eyes at him. “Did you eat a lily?”

“No.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Lilies are one of the deadliest plants a cat could ingest.” Cinderpelt went back to her work. “Most of the time, there’s vomiting, drooling, lethargy, lack of appetite, dehydration,” she listed it impressively quickly, and Shrewleap’s heart sped nearly as fast as her words did. “There’s often pain in their mouths directly after eating it, their heart rate speeds up, disorientation, tremors, seizures and so on. Usually, the plant can be fatal within a day.”

Shrewleap released a sigh. Some of it matched what Leopardstar was going through, but only the symptoms that seemed to come with most illnesses: vomiting, lack of appetite, lethargy, though also the confusion and drooling. However, the stand out symptoms didn’t match. Leopardstar’s heart was too slow, not too fast, and she certainly hadn’t been complaining about mouth pain, had no tremors, and wasn’t seizing. Most importantly, the issue had been long going; she wasn’t losing lives daily.

Though he still didn’t trust Hawkfrost, Shrewleap realized that the cocky tom wasn’t some all encompassing, constant threat to every Clan. Not every illness or misfortune could be blamed on him. The more he thought of it, the more embarrassed he became to have jumped to conclusions so quickly. Leopardstar actually, inexplicably, liked Hawkfrost. She’d made him her deputy while Mistyfoot was away, and would likely do so again if she died. Poisoning Leopardstar wouldn’t actually further any of his goals. If Mistyfoot suddenly became ill, then he’d start to become alarmed, but this time at least, a sickness was simply a sickness.

Just a sickness, just a disorder. And there you were, looking for trouble where there was none.

Arching his back in a stretch, Shrewleap licked his friend’s ear thankfully. “I best get back to work.”

“Or,” Cinderpelt mrrowed, flicking her charcoal gray tail toward the pile, “you can help put some of these away for me. If your father fusses, just tell him I outrank him!”

“Yes ma'am!" Shrewleap purred, taking finished bundles in his jaws and moving them to crags in the walls. 

He wasn’t sure how she wanted them organized, but figured that since she hadn’t stopped him and told him yet, he could just start by color and shape. He was glad she’d already set aside complete bundles, because he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between one set of yellow flowers and the other. It seemed that every time he spent time with Cinderpelt, he became even more impressed with her capabilities. Back when he was a kit, he hadn’t realized just how much went into her job.

A shallow pang hit his chest as memories of the forest medicine den flooded his mind. He could see it clear as day if he closed his eyes: a verdant, soft clearing, smelling of fresh plant life, ferns waving in the Greenleaf breeze… The crystal clear pool which had been his first experience of seeing his own reflection, when he’d pricked his nose on a thorn as a kit… Then there was the stone Cinderpelt had slept under and kept the herbs of course, but it wasn’t the same as this cave.

Looking to the ceiling, he found no blue, nor clouds.

“Do you ever miss your den? The one in the forest?” Shrewleap wondered aloud.

A drip of water from the ceiling hit the pool gathered below.

Cinderpelt approached the pool, staring down into it. Her dark furred reflection blended with the shadowy stones above, leaving only her two, blue-as-sky eyes clear against the backdrop. The water rippled as another droplet fell, and then, she finally spoke.

“This place, this den, is good. It protects from the elements and keeps the herb stores safe and dry. It is comfortable, and water is always nearby, and I like it here…” Whiskers twitching, she turned her face upward. “But when I think of ‘home,’ I always think of the forest, and I think I always will. So yes, I do miss it.”

“I know it’s not the same, but a part of me misses the forest’s warrior den, even though I never got to sleep there. ” Shrewleap pondered down at his own reflection. Despite Daisy’s earlier comments, he didn’t feel any disgust or fear anymore like he had at snakerocks. He saw the face of a survivor, scarred and wiry-furred in some places, fogged in one eye, but bright in the other; focused, and resilient. Looking back at him was a ThunderClan warrior; who he’d dreamt of being his whole life. “As a kit, and an apprentice, I always thought of the day I’d earn my name, hold vigil, and then make a nest beneath those low-hanging thorns.”

“So did I.” Cinderpelt loafed next to him. “I had it all planned out actually; become a warrior, get Fireheart to fall in love with me, have kits a little later on, then become Bluestar’s deputy —or, back when we still thought he was good, Tigerstar’s— and then become leader, in which I would live a good long life but eventually go out in a blaze of glory.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” Shrewleap laughed. Then, blinking softly, asked; “Did those feelings ever go away? About Firestar?”

Snorting with laughter, Cinderpelt batted his ear. “Obviously!” Letting her snickering subside, she continued. “It was just a young crush: even if I’d become a warrior, it never would’ve worked, and that’s good. I was his apprentice! Maybe I would’ve found love elsewhere, but I haven’t seen anyone that way since that silly crush faded, so maybe I wouldn’t. Either way, I’m happy.” She licked her paw and swiped it over her face. “You’ll be able to move on eventually too if it’s meant to be. Not every cat’s first crush is their true love: Firestar wasn’t mine, and his first crush wasn’t Sandstorm believe it or not. Dustpelt liked Sandstorm before your mother, and in turn, Ferncloud liked one of our peers… he didn’t make it.” The gray she-cat shuddered softly, but didn’t pause. “Point being, the love you have for Squirrelflight might be a passing thing, like the first frost in Newleaf, and you may find the love of your life with someone else.”

Nodding, Shrewleap closed his eyes, trying to imagine some other she-cat. He couldn’t, but the wisecracking medicine cat’s words struck a chord with him, and he thought he understood.

“Then again,” Cinderpelt teased good-naturedly, nuzzling him up and shuffling him toward the exit, “the same could be said for she and Brambleclaw.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Shrewpaw Survives AU