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redux-iterum · 4 hours

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Charred Legacy: Chapter Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Fireheart didn’t have much time to mull over Whitecloud’s words; the next evening, before anyone had a chance to leave camp, Bluestar walked in and silently jumped onto the meeting stump, sitting down and waiting for everyone to notice her and circle around.

“What do you think’s up?” Greystripe whispered to Fireheart as he and Ravenwing joined him.

Fireheart just tilted his head in acknowledgement. “We’ll see in a moment.”

“The time’s come,” Bluestar called when everyone was close, “for Frostfur’s kits to become apprentices.”

Surprised chatter bounced through the crowd. When Fireheart glanced at Frostfur's way, she was slightly frowning and muttering to herself, “I could’ve sworn we had another half-month to go…”

Sitting close by, Speckletail too had a look of confusion and—if Fireheart wasn’t mistaken—slight frustration. Fireheart didn’t get a chance to ask her about it before the buzz settled down and Bluestar called, “Kits, come forward.”

Fireheart was nearly pushed over by Brightkit as she led Snowkit up to the front of the crowd, which was in the process of backing up to give the litter space. Thornkit and Brackenkit soon followed, and the kits began shuffling around to stand in a line (as, of course, ordered by Thornkit).

“Bit disorganized,” Teaselfoot murmured to Mousefur beside him. “Did she not tell them what to do?”

“Huh,” was all Mousefur said. She had the air of mild disappointment. “I was hoping she’d talk to me about mentoring. I guess she’s already got her list settled.”

Speckletail’s eyes narrowed just a fraction and she looked Mousefur’s way. “She didn’t talk to me, either. I think—”

“Thornkit, step forward,” Bluestar said loudly, cutting her deputy off.

The brisk little tom marched a few steps closer, standing with his chest puffed out.

Bluestar leaned down a bit to talk to him. “Are you ready to train to serve your Clan, and care for your Clanmates the way they have cared for you?”

Thornkit gave one firm nod. “Am. I am.”

“Then with StarClan’s blessing, I name you Thornpaw.” Bluestar’s eyes flicked to one side of the crowd. “Your mentor will be Dustpelt. I entrust him to teach you diligence and honor, and pass down everything he knows.”

Dustpelt blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly and trotted into the empty ring, meeting with Thornpaw, who looked a little lost. Bluestar definitely hadn’t told him what to do the way she had told Fireheart when he received his own name. Dustpelt saved it by whispering something to Thornpaw. Quickly, the two touched noses and Thornpaw nodded respectfully to his new mentor before following him back to the edge of the crowd, where they stood together, the little tom’s eyes wide and sparkling.

“Brackenkit, step forward,” Bluestar said now, and was quickly and eagerly obeyed. “Are you ready to train to serve your Clan, and care for your Clanmates the way they have cared for you?”

“I am!” Brackenkit shouted, earning a few titters.

Bluestar nodded once, not looking particularly amused herself. “Then with StarClan’s blessing, I name you Brackenpaw. Your mentor will be Willowpelt. I entrust her to teach you focus and clear-headedness, and pass down everything she knows.”

Again, the new mentor had a look of surprise, and again she took it in stride and went to meet her apprentice. Brackenpaw’s tail flailed about in excitement and he almost banged his nose into Willowpelt’s, just barely catching himself in time.

“Call their names,” Bluestar said to the crowd as the pair moved away. “Welcome Thornpaw and Brackenpaw to apprenticeship.”

The Clan immediately cheered, “Thornpaw! Brackenpaw! Thornpaw! Brackenpaw!”

The brothers, standing next to each other, shared a glance, and in that glance was the very same overwhelming wash of joy Fireheart had felt when he’d first come to the Clan, and again when he’d been named a warrior. Granted, Thornpaw looked a little more stoic, but the happiness was palpable.

“Brightkit,” Bluestar said when the cheering was done.

Brightkit did not walk forward so much as bounce, and when she remembered to stop, she was vibrating with glee.

“Are you also ready to train to serve your Clan, and care for your Clanmates the way they have cared for you?”

Brightkit bounced on her pads. “I am! I am!”

“Then with StarClan’s blessing, I name you Brightpaw. Your me—”

Brightpaw poorly contained a squeal of joy that came out as an energetic whine. Again, the crowd rippled with amusement, and she ducked her head. “Sorry.”

Bluestar, to her credit, did not scold her—in fact, she didn’t react at all, simply continuing with the script. “Your mentor will be Mousefur.”

Fireheart immediately turned his head to the dusky molly. She straightened up, eyes wide and ears perked in delight.

“I entrust her to teach you wit and tranquility, and pass down everything she knows.”

Mousefur quickly wove around the cats in front of her and went to meet her apprentice. Both of their faces shone with joy, and Brightpaw whispered something that Mousefur snorted at before she led the apprentice to the edge of the crowd.

“Now, Snowkit,” Bluestar continued, and at this the crowd went dead quiet. She made eye contact with the little white tom and beckoned him to walk forward with her tail, which he did. She returned her attention to the rest of ThunderClan. “Snowkit is a special case. He cannot hear the oath he’ll take to become an apprentice, and he will require a mentor that can learn to communicate with him, and teach him to communicate better with all of us, and us with him in turn. Therefore, we will do this oath a little differently.”

Her eyes roamed over the gathered cats… and they landed on Ravenwing. The black tom suddenly stiffened.

“Ravenwing, join Snowkit,” she said.

Ravenwing didn’t move, but his tail immediately started shaking. “Wh– um– …Why?”

Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “Because you are going to be his mentor.”

The shaking swept over every hair on Ravenwing’s body. Fireheart watched in shock (as did everyone else) as Ravenwing gasped and trembled even harder, until it looked like his unsteady legs were about to buckle.

He barely managed to find his voice. “I– no, Bluestar, I ca– I c—”

“Come forward and meet your apprentice,” Bluestar snapped.

Speckletail stood up, looking between the panicking Ravenwing and the annoyed leader. “Bluestar, did you talk with him about this?”

Bluestar ignored her, simply glaring at Ravenwing like a rabbit still in its burrow.

The poor tom was visibly fighting to control his terror, but he still shivered and breathed shallow breaths. His eyes stared ahead, unfocused.

Fireheart, sitting next to him, eased his side on Ravenwing’s. Greystripe scooted closer and mirrored the gesture, nearly drowning the oddly scrawny tom in his warmth. When Ravenwing’s head snapped between them, Fireheart gave him as encouraging of a nod and a blink as he could, and Greystripe whispered, “You got this, bud. We’re right here.”

Ravenwing gulped down another chestful of air, screwed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and then barely managed a nod back. Despite his shaky legs, he stood and shuffled past Willowpelt and Brackenpaw. Fireheart tried to mentally send his support to the skinny warrior as he stood by Snowkit. The kit looked up at him, his excitement fading a little to concern.

“Though you can’t hear me,” Bluestar said to Snowkit, “I know you will agree to what your littermates agreed to: training to serve your Clan, and caring for them as they have cared for you. Therefore, I name you Snowpaw, and your mentor will be Ravenwing.” She now looked to the warrior in question. “Ravenwing, I entrust you to teach him wisdom and carefulness, and pass down everything you know to him.”

Ravenwing, fighting to breathe normally, turned to Snowpaw, and with a quaking paw gently nudged him to stand. Snowpaw did so, his pretty blue eyes shining again. At the eye contact, something in Ravenwing settled just a little, and he managed to lessen his shaking enough to touch his nose to Snowpaw’s. The apprentice straightened up and beamed, giving his mentor a nod like his siblings had done to theirs.

“Welcome, Brightpaw and Snowpaw, to apprenticeship,” Bluestar said, not waiting for the pair to move.

Again, cheers. “Brightpaw! Snowpaw! Brightpaw! Snowpaw!”

Snowpaw didn’t acknowledge the cheering, but he did bump his head against Ravenwing’s shoulder, purring quietly. Ravenwing nervously blinked at him when he pulled his head back.

The crowd dispersed, chatting among themselves or congratulating the apprentices on their ceremony. Fireheart tapped Greystripe with his tail and led him over to Ravenwing and Snowpaw.

“She– she didn’t tell me,” Ravenwing stammered out to his friends. “I just– I could’ve told her– I can’t mentor, I’m not—”

“None of that,” Fireheart said, gently but firmly. Ravenwing quieted, staring at him. “You can do this. And if you need help, you’ll have me and Greystripe around any time.”

Greystripe nodded. “And really, you’re the best one to teach him. Frostfur’s got a couple signs for him already, doesn’t she?”

Ravenwing sighed out a trembling breath. “I mean, yeah? I’ve seen her, but I don’t know how many signs, or what they mean—”

“I can help with that.”

The toms turned their heads, gradually followed by Snowpaw, as Frostfur padded up to them. Snowpaw went up to meet her and she licked his ear, nodded and blinked twice.

“I’m sorry you didn’t know ahead of time,” she said to Ravenwing. “I didn’t either. I would’ve talked to you and given you a headstart on communicating with him.”

Fireheart chanced a look back at Ravenwing; to his surprise, at Frostfur’s words, he seemed to have calmed down a little, saying with focus in his eyes, “I’d– I’d appreciate everything you can give me.”

Snowpaw looked almost upside-down at Ravenwing, still purring. Ravenwing slowly gave him a blink, and Snowpaw fluffed up, looking back now to his mother.

“He’s starting to understand lip-movement,” Frostfur said, gently ruffling her kit’s head. “But that’s still slow-going. He’s got pel* signs that he knows, and they should be enough right now for you to start with.”

“Can you share them with us, too?” Fireheart asked, Greystripe nodding in agreement. “We want to help however we can.”

Frostfur gave him a grateful face, but still spoke to Ravenwing. “This, what I just did—” she blinked twice with a nod “—that means ‘yes’. Or ‘well done’. He’ll know the difference. You can just nod for yes, but you have to nod and blink for ‘well done’.”

Focus burned brighter in Ravenwing’s eyes, and he leaned forward a bit, nodding for her to go on.

“For ‘no’, you can just shake your head,” Frostface continued. “If you want to make him understand you’re not happy with him, put your ears back, too. He reacts pretty well to discipline, but don’t be cruel to my son.”

“Of course not!” Ravenwing blanched. “No, I’ll– I’ll be kind, of course. What else?”

“He also has ‘stop’ and ‘go’.” Frostfur folded her left ear back and lifted her left paw and lowered it just enough to leave it in the air, then did the same to the right, with the right paw landing on the ground again. “In that order. ‘Stop’ is for when he’s being too rowdy or when he’s doing something he shouldn’t. ‘Go’ is to let him have fun or do something he wants to do. He’ll check in with you with a head-tilt.”

Ravenwing nodded. “How do I tell him to ‘go’—like, to walk or crawl forward, when it’s time to show him how to hunt?”

Frostfur twitched one side of her mouth. “I haven’t gotten to that one yet. I think maybe you can work with ‘go’ and change it a little. Tap the ground twice, perhaps?”

“That’ll work.” Ravenwing paused, eyes squinting a little, then asked, “What’s the sign for ‘prey’?”

“Well, for food-prey, I’ve been pretending to chew three times.” Frostfur exaggeratedly opened and shut her mouth. Fireheart noted that she was rotating her jaw like a deer chewing—maybe that would keep Snowpaw from thinking she was talking out loud. “For huntable prey, I’d say he’ll get it best if you do something to pretend you’re hunting.”

Ravenwing hummed in thought. “…Maybe I can chatter my teeth. I’ve seen your kits do that when they were pretending to hunt each other a time or two.”

“Hey!” Mousefur called, and trotted over to the little group, a bouncing Brightpaw in tow. “Ravenwing, we were going to show the chriil** the territory. Do you and Snowpaw want to come with us?”

“Oh—” Ravenwing startled, glanced back at Fireheart and Greystripe, then said to Mousefur, “Uh– yeah, we’d like that. I was just getting some signs from Frostfur.”

“Oh, good idea.” Mousefur gave him an approving nod. “We can wait a little more, if you want.”

Ravenwing looked at Frostfur for her deliberation.

“I think you’ll be okay with those right now,” she said warmly. “Thank you for this, Ravenwing. I can see you’ll do well with him.”

Ravenwing weakly breathed a chuff. “I’ll try, at least.”

With that, he nosed Snowpaw to get his attention. When the little tom looked his way, he cocked his head in the direction of the rest of the apprentices at the camp entrance. Snowpaw nodded eagerly and followed after him as Mousefur led them back to the new trainees, Ravenwing glancing back once (weirdly past his friends) and relaxing his steps a bit.

“Maybe we should go with?” Fireheart said to Greystripe. “In case he needs support—”

“Don’t do that.”

The toms and Frostfur almost jumped in surprise, even though Whitecloud’s voice was low and raspy. He had approached without any of them seeing him and was sitting politely, waiting to be acknowledged.

“This is something he needs to do himself,” he elaborated after a moment of letting the surprise settle. “He has your help in many things in his life, but now is the time for him to grow on his own.”

“But—” started Greystripe.

Whitecloud shook his head. “You can always help with training on your off-nights. But Bluestar gave him this challenge for a reason. He’s smart, as you know, and very quick to pick things up, and you know that too. Let him do this alone. Give him the chance to come out of his shell.”

“I think I agree with that,” Frostfur said to the boys. “He can always ask me about signs if he needs to. You two just focus on yourselves for now.”

Fireheart tip-tapped the sand anxiously. “But what if he panics again, and we’re not there?”

Whitecloud gave him a calming tail-wave. “Have some faith in him. He’s not as fragile as he thinks he is.” His voice dropped even further. “You know better than anyone that he’s a lot more capable than he looks.”

The investigation was all his doing, Fireheart thought immediately. He drew in a breath, sighed and nodded. “We’ll try too.”

Greystripe grimaced, but copied the nod. “If he’s struggling still, then can we step in?”

Whitecloud purred. “Yes. But let him get through the initial struggles of first-time mentoring. He’ll learn on his own.”

Fireheart exchanged a look with Greystripe, both worried but cautiously optimistic. Whitecloud tilted his head to them and then walked off, heading to speak with Speckletail. Frostfur looked over at where her kits had gone, eyes fond and a bit sad.

He’ll be okay without you, a voice in Fireheart’s head gently told him. Like Whitecloud said. Give him time.

Even with his own subconscious encouraging him, Fireheart had to fight to not hurry out after his friend and offer support. He flexed his claws to get his anxiety out.

“He’ll be okay,” he said out loud.

Greystripe, looking equally less-than-confident, only sighed softly in response.

*”Pel”: a vague amount between five and eight.

**”Chriil”: plural of “chrii”, meaning “little changing cat”. Essentially equivalent to calling a young person “kid”.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #book three #arc one #charred legacy #chapter #chapter four

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redux-iterum · 21 days

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Charred Legacy: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

All things considered, it was a nice night.

Fireheart was half-rolled onto his back, front paws tucked into his upturned chest while his rear end remained on its side. His tail tapped absentmindedly on the still-warm sand as he gazed up at the stars. The weather had loosened up, mercifully keeping the sky clear and even warming the air a little. It was still somewhat chilled, but the ground had softened from muddy slop to dense soil—still retaining a bit of moisture, but not enough to stick to a traveling cat’s paws—and the frost had barely made an appearance before shying away and melting again into dew.

Thank the Three for small miracles, Fireheart thought as his eyes lazily drifted from star to star. They know we needed it.

Caught up in the beauty of the sky and the grainy comfort of the sand, he was only somewhat registering cats talking around him. Faint squeals drifted out of the nursery’s entrance and his ear twitched at what he thought (hoped, really) was Goldenflower gently chiding the kits inside. Frostfur’s litter was already out, but in the past month they had calmed down considerably and come to prefer talking with the one cat in the apprentice’s den who would soon be a warrior, Swiftpaw, as he regaled them with stories of the territory and all the strange creatures they would see there.

Fireheart twisted his head back and to the side a bit—yes, there they were, listening to the black tom recounting his experience going to the Mother on the far side of the territories.

“And I know she looks scary,” he was saying, “but that’s kind of the point, I think. It makes you respect her even more. You just have to be brave and go into her mouth, trusting her. And Yellowfang will be there to guide you, so you’ll find your way.”

The sole molly of the litter, fluffy ginger-patched Brightkit, spoke up now. “I won’t be scared. The Mother wouldn’t hurt us—we’re her favorites.”

Thornkit, dark and golden-brown, frowned at her. “Still gotta be ‘spectful.”

Fireheart’s mouth twitched into a brief grimace in sympathy as the tom’s ears went back in embarrassment at the end of his sentence. Thornkit still slurred and stumbled over his words, even with as much as Frostfur had worked with him on speaking clearly, and he had been speaking shorter and shorter sentences recently, and at a much lower volume. His siblings understood him just fine, save one.

That one, the deaf little white tom directly in front of Swiftpaw, was Snowkit. His bright blue eyes, wide and vibrant, were fixed on Swiftpaw’s mouth as the apprentice said, “Yeah, it’s important to be quiet on the walk in and during the ceremony. Just wait until Yellowfang speaks to you.”

Brackenkit, a thinner and lighter version of Thornkit, tilted his head. “Will Cinderpaw be there?”

“She was when I went.” Swiftpaw’s eyes lifted upwards as he squinted a bit. “I mean, we did ours together, so that’s why, but I think she’d have to go anyway.” He turned to look at his dark grey sister as she limped out from the ferns by the meeting stump. “Hey, Cinderpaw! Are you going to be with these kits when they do their pilgrimage?”

Cinderpaw beamed with a hacking scoff very similar to her mentor’s. “Obviously! I have to learn how to do it myself, and there’s no way I’m missing out on Brighty getting blessed.” She swept her tail, crooked at the tip, in the direction of the toms. “And you guys, of course.”

Brackenkit seemed to take no offense. “I bet my blessing will be from Rokhar.”

Fireheart purred, rolling slowly onto his side. Of all the three gods, the Tiger was the one he understood the least. Then again, it seemed like everyone outside of the seer role had some trouble grasping exactly what Rokhar was all about. The first seer of Fireheart’s life in ThunderClan, Spottedleaf, had described him as being “in-between” and “all-encompassing”. Even after more than a year of being a Clan cat, Fireheart still had no idea what that meant.

“Why Rokhar?” Swiftpaw asked, sounding amused. “Because he’s the cool—?“

“Because he’s the cool one!” Brackenkit said, exactly in tandem with the apprentice. At another frown from Thornkit, he added, “I mean, they’re all cool, but Rokhar’s the coolest.”

Cinderpaw limped up to the little gathering of the young, her bad leg crumpled up towards her belly. “Knowing your dad, he’s probably telling Horoa right now to bless all of you with a Lion’s touch.”

While the kits all started babbling to each other about whether that was true or not, Fireheart’s heart clenched at the mention of Lionface. He had been the deputy of ThunderClan after Redtail, another first for Fireheart when he had joined the Clan from life as a house cat. Both of them had been great toms, Redtail kind and friendly and Lionface majestic and confident (even if he and Fireheart had clashed here and there). Both of them were gone, and both of them had been…

Fireheart’s claws sank into the sand. He eyed Cinderpaw’s crippled leg.

It had been around a month since the trial that shattered the Clan’s collective heart. No one had spoken of it after it happened, and even the mere implication of something that would link back to that night was hushed or ignored. Fireheart couldn’t stand this thing Clan cats had with refusing to acknowledge bad cats or the things they’d done; it didn’t help anyone feel better, it just made things awkward and sad. Supposedly, the spirits of these bad cats could come back if spoken about or named and haunt the territories, but as far as Fireheart had seen, the only thing they haunted was his dreams.

What he’d give to talk about this with Goldenflower.

But she was in the nursery now, and she needed peace and quiet to raise his adoptive siblings until they were big enough to come out and explore camp. Being forbidden from visiting, Fireheart just had to rely on news shared by Brindleface or Frostfur—mostly Brindleface, as Frostfur had left the nursery early to give the crowded den some room and now only came to check on her nearly-grown kits. Brindleface had been incredibly nervous and sensitive when she was stuck in the den, but now that she had been able to leave her kits for walks here and there…

“Fireheart! There you are!”

The ginger tom blinked and got to his feet, shaking off what sand had clung to his fur. The beautiful grey tortoiseshell in question had just climbed up and out of the nursery, her pale green eyes shining as Fireheart approached her.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said when he was close enough. “Well, two surprises.”

Fireheart perked up. “Really? Are they about Cloudkit?”

“They are.” Brindleface’s fluffy tail curled at the delight that must have immediately brightened up Fireheart’s face. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have come seen him before, but that makes this a little more interesting.”

Cloudkit had been adopted into the Clan, the same as his uncle. Fireheart had been given the kit by his frantic sister, Rosy, and ThunderClan took him in with only a bit of reluctance. The two of them did not look similar—Fireheart was skinny and shorthaired and Cloudkit was a ball of white fluff—and with the automatic distance of Fireheart not being able to visit to see his nephew and bond with him, he could only hope that they wouldn’t be so different that they could not find common ground besides being outsiders at birth, especially since Fireheart had promised to mentor Cloudkit once he became an apprentice.

“What is it, then?” he asked, trying not to sound overly-eager.

“Well, for one…” Brindleface turned and poked her head into the nursery. “Babies, do you want to come out now?”

Indistinct squeaks of excitement immediately followed this, and Brindleface purred before turning back to Fireheart, saying, “That’s the first surprise. They’re ready to meet you.”

Fireheart’s fur flared out and he beamed. “I can see him now!”

Brindleface nodded, her whiskers twitching. “And the second…”

She gestured with her paw just in time for the first kits to scramble out of the den: both grey with broken tabby markings, similar in every way except for the molly being both more delicate in the face and fluffier than her brother. They completely ignored Fireheart and bumbled out into the center of camp. Who followed them was—

Not the kit Fireheart had brought in.

This kit was fluffy and round, sure, but ginger covered his ears and nose and was steadily claiming his tail. His fur was quite long and puffed out, even if he was a bit small; if it weren’t for the unusual color, he would fit perfectly in with the rest of ThunderClan. By the way his deep blue eyes blinked owlishly at Fireheart, he was just as surprised at the reunion.

“Cloudkit,” Brindleface said with another paw-gesture, “this is your uncle, Fireheart. Remember how we talked about him?”

“Ohhh,” Cloudkit said loudly. He looked Fireheart up and down before announcing, “You’re short.”

“Cloudkit!” Brindleface scolded. “That’s rude.”

Fireheart chuffed and bent his head to meet his nephew’s eye-level. “And you’re pudgy.”

Cloudkit squinted at Fireheart. “What’s ‘pudgy’?”

“Fat!” Cinderpaw called from across the clearing.

Cloudkit squawked and slowly and clumsily swatted a paw in the direction of Fireheart’s nose. “’Mnot pudgy! You’re pudgy!”

Brindleface stared at the little tom in baffled embarrassment, but Fireheart pretended to be struck and rubbed his nose like it’d been scratched.

“Don’t beat me up, please,” he said, poorly hiding his amusement. “I’m sorry, you’re not.”

Cloudkit nodded in satisfaction—then, to Fireheart’s surprise, he toddled right up to his uncle and bumped their noses together. Him being so small, it didn’t hurt, but it was more of a punch than usual.

“Hi, uncle,” Cloudkit said, pulling back.

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Hi, nephew.”

“That’s better.” Brindleface stepped forward to lick Cloudkit’s ear. “Are you ready to meet your Clanmates now?”

The little puffball nearly jumped in place and waddled off after his siblings, who were currently interrupting the discussion between Frostfur’s litter and Swiftpaw. Fireheart watched him go, amazed at the strength of the flame of affection in his chest, even when he hadn’t seen the kit since he’d come to the Clan.

“How did his fur get like that?” He turned to Brindleface now. “He was white when I brought him in.”

Brindleface rolled a shoulder. “Kittypet blood, I’m guessing. I’ve never seen anything like that in the territories. I thought he was sick at first, but he’s been perfectly happy and healthy this whole time.” She gave Fireheart a cheeky squint. “Both of you stick out now.”

Fireheart sighed a chuff. “At least he’ll be warm this winter.”

Brindleface nodded. Then her eyes flicked to the side and narrowed a fraction before she walked off after her litter. Fireheart’s gaze followed where she’d looked.

Darkstripe. Of course. He was glaring at the now-wandering Cloudkit.

Fireheart contained another, much heavier sigh. Since the trial, the dark tabby had hardly said more than one word to anyone, and they had to speak to him first. Fireheart hadn’t dared start a conversation with him—Darkstripe had never liked him to begin with, but since the end result of the trial was largely on Fireheart’s shoulders, the hatred in Darkstripe’s eyes burned Fireheart’s back whenever the two had to cross paths. He’d done his best to give the older warrior space, which was difficult when they shared a den.

Anticipating the glare to turn on him, Fireheart prepared to look away and find something else to engage with. He was saved by the camp entrance rustling to reveal the pale brown tortoiseshell Speckletail leading a patrol in. As her followers trotted to the prey-pile, she approached Darkstripe and said something to him Fireheart didn’t catch. Darkstripe didn’t respond beyond a twitch of his lip, getting to his feet and stalking out of camp. Speckletail watched him go, huffed and shook her head before joining the rest of the patrol.

After the loss of the prior deputy—the one that trial had been all about—Speckletail had been selected to replace him. She hadn’t been the expected choice, but she had accepted the role and immediately went about keeping the Clan busy and organized for the first month of her tenure. Fireheart suspected that this was a tactical decision; giving everyone something to do kept them from stewing in their own thoughts over the events of the past fall. Things had finally slowed down, with the warmer weather gifting the Clan with more prey than Fireheart had been told showed up in the end seasons. This was one of the first nights in quite a while that Fireheart had gotten to stay home and just enjoy the peace of camp.

“Good evening,” he said to Speckletail as she walked past him with a woodrat.

She nodded to him, putting down her prey for a moment. “Any word while I was gone?”

Fireheart shook his head, ears going back sadly. “I haven’t spoken to her since a few days ago.”

Speckletail sighed through her nose. Her eyes were tired. “I’ll talk with her once I’ve eaten.” She picked up her prey again and continued on her way, sitting down with Willowpelt on the far side of camp.

Fireheart’s eyes drifted to the wall of briar that surrounded the sandy clearing. Though he couldn’t see it, his gaze landed on the area where the leader’s den was situated on the outside.

Where Bluestar was undoubtedly sleeping.

The trial and the near-murder preceding it had hurt everyone, but it had broken something in the Clan’s leader. Only a few days after the deputy’s execution, Bluestar had become a rare sight. She now walked alone in the forest or holed up in her den, only coming out to order patrols or respond to something Speckletail asked her about. It had been part of the quiet conversation for some time now, but no one dared to broach the topic to Bluestar—even Fireheart, her former apprentice, or Whitecloud, her nephew.

It wasn’t fair, Fireheart wanted to shout to the stars. Of all the cats suffering, why did their leader have to struggle the hardest? The pain and suspicion and fear clouded her eyes and silenced her voice. It had been her throat the deputy’s teeth nearly crushed, her friends and Clanmates he crippled and murdered to get to her. Now, whenever she looked at her charges, it seemed like she was gauging their intentions, how well they could be trusted. Even Fireheart had been under scrutiny more than once.

She really would benefit from being able to talk about this whole thing…

“Cloudkit, please!”

Fireheart blinked and was back in camp. He turned his head to see his nephew marching for the fallen log that was the elder’s den. The elders were already out—lanky and grey One-eye, dark brown Halftail, and black-and-white Patchpelt—but they were talking among themselves, completely unaware of the kit making his way towards them, his siblings trailing behind with curious looks on their faces. Brindleface was padding after them, calling for Cloudkit.

“Let them be—” she started, but Cloudkit broke into a clumsy imitation of a run and continued on. Just as he reached Patchpelt, he tried to slow down, only succeeding in crashing right into the elder and stumbling backwards, plopping into a sitting position.

Patchpelt coughed (as he had been lately) in surprise and looked round to see the kit. His faded eyes brightened. “Well, now! I don’t remember this one.”

“I’m Cloudkit.” The furball blinked up at him. “My sister is Aspenkit and my brother is Ashkit.”

Halftail tilted his head, eyes narrowed analytically.

“You’ve got some ginger on your face, little ant,” croaked One-eye, peering with her single eye at the kit. “Or you’ve been playing in the sand.”

“No, he’s supposed to look like that.” Brindleface hurried up to them. “I’m sorry he disturbed you.”

“You know we love being disturbed,” Patchpelt said fondly, looking at the grey kits as they approached. “Ah, and this must be Ashkit and Aspenkit.”

The tom kit nodded firmly, standing as tall as he could, while the molly lowered her nose and shyly regarded the ground. Cloudkit, meanwhile, was meeting One-eye’s gaze, looking completely unbothered by the marred face that every kit and new apprentice was a little taken aback by. Fireheart noted with pride that he didn’t broach the topic of One-eye’s accident, only chirping, “You’re tall.”

One-eye chortled. “And old, on top of that. Do you know what my name is?”

Cloudkit shook his head.

“I’m One-eye, unsurprisingly.” The pale molly nodded to her denmates. “That’s Halftail and Patchpelt. Can you guess which is which?”

“Um…” Cloudkit scrunched up his little face before answering slowly. “Patchpelt’s got patches, and Halftail’s brown, right?”

“Very good.” Patchpelt purred. “We have easy names to remember.”

Cloudkit brightened up and wagged his short little tail. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did it,” Brindleface said, touching her nose to her adopted son’s head, adding to the elders, “I can distract him if he starts to bother you.”

“Oh, he’s not a bother at all.” One-eye tilted her head comically at Cloudkit, who trilled in response. “I haven’t had a kit not flinch at my face since I became an elder.”

Fireheart watched on as Cloudkit made his way around to Halftail, who eyed him suspiciously but said nothing. An anxiety he didn’t know was in his stomach settled at the warm looks on the elders’ faces when Cloudkit loudly announced, “Fireheart’s my uncle!” and puffed out his little chest.

He’s bold, Fireheart thought affectionately, watching his nephew respond to Patchpelt’s kindly questions about life in the nursery. Rosy, whether or not you get to see him again, I know you’ll be proud.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter one #book three #arc one #charred legacy

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