Post by Smokeleaf on Jun 14, 2009 20:22:08 GMT -5
Spottedheart raced through the forest. Her tail streamed out behind her, a bright spotted flag alerting all who may have passed. But what did such trivial things as borders mean right now? She had to get as far from camp as possible… before they were born…
But as a quick wave of pain overtook her, she knew she was too late. She collapsed to the ground, gasping and panting furiously. There would be no help for her. She would have to do what she could.
In the coming hour, she would give birth to three kits, but she didn’t have the energy to tend to them; she hardly had the breath to name them. And so she looked over at her babies and sighed, carefully choosing each name for her children. “You, darling,” she breathed to the largest of the three, a ginger tabby tom, “shall be named Sandkit. And you shall be Foxkit,” she told the other tom, a mewling reddish kit, “and you…”
She didn’t have it in her to name the little tortoiseshell she-kit before her. She just didn’t. And so at that moment, she was accepted into StarClan. She brought with her Sandkit and Foxkit.
The tortoiseshell was left behind.
It was cold, desperate, dying itself, and so it brushed up against its mother’s flank and mewled. It mewled with all its life, crying with its heart and soul. It wasn’t until the following morning, at the break of dawn, when its cries were finally heard.
Fern and Frost were taking a walk that morning. They were of the First Cats, as they are known now, and such a pair of opposites you’ve never seen. Listen to this morning’s conversation to see if you agree:
“Isn’t it so delightfully warm and bright today? This is such a lovely morning, don’t you think?” This was Frost. She was always very bright and chipper, never thinking anything without getting at least one other opinion. She was a lovely longhaired she-cat, her fur being as white and clear “as her personality,” as many cats claimed. She loved to hear them say this. Frost couldn’t bear being criticized. But who would criticize such a friendly cat as she?
Fern disagreed, as Fern was prone to doing. “This is a horrid morning. It is much too humid, and the trees cover so much of the light. It’s far too cold to be wandering about in the dark. I was hoping to warm my pelt today, but it seems the odds are against me as usual. I’m freezing my tail off, I am!” She pulled her tail to her dark brown pelt to prove it to her companion. Frost rolled her eyes. Only Fern could make her do this. Fern could make anybody do anything. She was horribly manipulative, which wouldn’t have been so bad if she were nicer about it. Fern was not usually a nice cat. She was hot-tempered and could never decide on anything. If one cat said one thing and another disagreed, she opposed them both. And yet, she was filled with charisma. Nobody could figure out how.
“A horrid morning?” Frost mewed, aghast. “Only you could say such a thing!”
“I disagree!”
“Oh? I’ll bet you can’t find another creature in the forest that is as unhappy as you are. Moles don’t count! They’re never happy with anything.”
“Well, that kit doesn’t seem too happy,” Fern smirked.
“Kit?” Frost looked up suddenly, a horrid feeling of trepidation creeping into her pelt. Even Fern seemed concerned, which Fern never was.
“It’s not here, mousebrain,” she spat, sliding past Frost with her thin, earthy pelt. “It’s somewhere over there. Can’t you hear it?”
“No,” Frost whimpered. Fern sniffed and flicked her tail for her to follow.
They crept through the undergrowth for a couple of foxlengths until a bitter smell wafted into their noses. Fern stopped suddenly and Frost gulped. They knew that smell. Every cat did. It was one nobody could forget.
They waited a dreaded moment before hearing the mewling kit again, at which point they both let out relieved sighs. Fern, being insensitive in most ways, was the first to creep back forward. She saw the beautiful spotted she-cat there, lying dead on the forest floor, and lowered her gaze. She continued forward, however, and investigated the scene further. Three kits laid at her side; two ginger toms and a tortoiseshell she-kit. She nosed them slightly before one of them squealed, then she pinched the scruff of the survivor’s neck with her teeth and carried it to safety. She set it down at Frost’s paws, who was trembling in fear. She didn’t do well in these types of situations.
“It’s okay, Frost,” she mewed carefully. “Look who we have here! A little she-kit, by the looks of it.”
Frost opened one of her eyes and looked down at the kit carefully. A wave of satisfaction overtook her when she saw the little pelt wriggling underneath her. “Oh, isn’t she darling?” she cooed, reaching down to lick her fur lovingly.
“She is awful pretty,” Fern admitted. She, too, had a soft spot for kits.
“Our lovely little tortoiseshell. Only… it’s not quite like that, is it? Her whole pelt is lighter, like it’s been sitting in the sun for too long.”
“Faded,” the other agreed.
“Exactly. Faded. Our little Fade.”
Love burned within the hearts of the two cats, and two pairs of eyes, one yellow, one blue, looked down at her warmly. They knew what they had to do.
The voyage to the clearing was easy. The only hard part was deciding who should carry the kit back home. Finally Fern allowed Frost to do the honors; besides, it would ruin her reputation.
The First Cats were halfway between primitive and cultivated; that is, they lived and worked together, but were more like a band of loners than a Clan. The two cats and their new companion weaved around the nests that were randomly placed across the clearing and padded towards the Stump. That’s all that the great landmark was called; the Stump. It wasn’t used much.
No, that’s a lie. It wasn’t used much as a group. As an individual, it was perfect. The tree that used to stand there had once been cracked by lightning, and within this deep crack was a sheltered nest for whichever cat was their leader. Even a band of loners needed a leader. The lucky cat was named Gray.
“Gray!” Fern called abruptly, poking her nose into the opening in the Stump. Frost was aghast at such suddenness, but was shocked further still when Gray actually responded.
“May I help you?” The she-cat slipped out of her den and sat beside the others, grooming her silver fur with airs. She didn’t like to be disturbed.
Frost set the kit down at her feet and replied, “Please do, Mother.”
Yes, Gray was Frost’s mother.
Gray did not seem impressed or interested. “Fern, darling, you mustn’t be stealing kits. Go on, give it back.”
“Stealing kits!” Fern spat, her pelt bristling.
“It reeks of… of… ugh!”
“This is Fade,” Frost continued. “We found her in the middle of the forest.”
Gray wasn’t a mousebrain, and could see that the tiny thing had only just been kitted. It couldn’t have escaped its camp.
“You think the mother– ”
“Her mother is dead.” Fern bowed her head. “She was there. Two other kits were there, as well, but it was too late.”
Gray pricked her ears and finally looked down at the kit with sympathy. She, unlike Frost or Fern, did not have a soft spot for kits. She cared for all of her cats equally, and that this kit was a rogue, as it seemed, hadn’t been helping. But now that there was the slightest bit of interest in her, there was no going back.
“Fade, you say?”
Frost mrrowd in amusement. Fade would stay.
The two friends raised the young kit for many moons, until soon she wasn’t even a kit anymore. But she was always theirs. Together they formed Fade’s mother, and no cat could deny it.
Fade quickly became family to these cats, and her bloodline never seemed to matter. Even the other young cats, usually the most prejudiced of all (or at least the most vocal), didn’t seem to take note. But that doesn’t mean they palled around with her. The youngest cat next to Fade was a good six moons older, and at this point, it was a bit too late to make very close friends. Fade didn’t seem to care, however, and instead spent most of her time around the older cats. She loved being with the elders of the community for they told the best stories; their heads were riddled with legendary cats, heroic or vile or normal in every sense. When they weren’t around or Frost insisted on her being with cats more her age, she would go to the younger cats and watch them play. Only the adults would let her take part, however, showing her all of their battle moves and hunting tricks and how best to annoy Gray (Gray was a fabulous cat, but was terribly fun to mess with).
Fern, however, was not one for such vulgarity; or at least not on purpose. So every once in a while Fade would walk with the she-cat through the forest and listen to her pearls of wisdom.
While knowing almost nothing of fighting, the she-cat had a born talent for medicine. Fade loved to hear her drawl on and on about comfrey this and yarrow that, quickly memorizing each herb, what it did, and how best to use it. “You do that,” Fern sniffed. “It’ll come to good use one day or another.”
Fade believed her. And it was a good thing she had.
Seasons passed and cats changed, some growing older while others grew bolder. The next litter of kits brought more hope to Fade, who found comfort in their playfulness. While the other cats enjoyed them as well, they preferred the even-tempered and perfectly healthy Wind and Rain, while Fade took more interest in the smaller but brighter Sky. Sky had quite a personality, if you know what I mean, and Fade was just about the only cat she was close friends with. She, too, enjoyed listening to stories and learning techniques and particularly memorizing herbs. Soon the cats were joined at the hip.
“Tell me more about dock!” Sky insisted one morning.
“Okay. Rocks are round, hard things that stick and the ground and…”
“No, dock!” Sky mewled in laughter. Fade rolled her eyes playfully and batted her ears.
“I’ve taught you about dock a million times! Let’s talk about something more interesting. Like daisies. See, daisies you usually only find in Newleaf, so…”
“What’s that?”
“Newleaf? It’s the season we’re in right now. You know that.”
“No, not Newleaf! That, by the Stump! I mean, what’s going on?”
Fade looked up to see a crowd of cats gathered around their sacred Stump, which was so unusual that it almost knocked her off her feet. “I don’t know,” she replied quickly, “but we’d better go find out.”
The two quickly padded forward and took a seat beside Frost and Fern. “What’s going on?” Fade asked of them.
“A Clan meeting,” Fern huffed.
“Since when are we a Clan?” Sky mumbled, and Frost shook her head.
“We’re not, but I see some young cats have a couple of ideas in their heads.”
Fade scanned the crowd to find Gray at the base of the Stump with two cats speaking rapidly talking to her. After a moment she bowed her head in understanding and sprang back onto its woody surface. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Stump for a Clan meeting!” She looked back down to the two cats, and they nodded. She waited a moment for any stragglers and continued, “My dear cats, tonight we shall say goodbye to two of our cats, Timber and Meadow. See, they… Well, I’ll let them explain it.” She leaped off of the Stump and the two cats at the base leapt up. They seemed to glare at each other.
“We are not leaving forever, not just yet,” Timber began, looking down upon the cats with strength in his eyes. “But tonight Meadow and I will be looking for what they call the Moontree so that we may receive our nine lives. We will each be starting a Clan!”
Fade couldn’t tell if the murmurs were for the nine lives or the new Clans, but each seemed pretty interesting.
“Tomorrow,” Meadow interrupted, “we will return to you and request that you all join one of our Clans. See, StarClan came to both of us in a dream and asked told us of the dangers that lie ahead.”
“Dangers?” one cat cried. “What kind of dangers?”
“We don’t know,” the tabby she-cat admitted. “That’s all they said; dangers. But they did tell us that in order to escape these dangers, we must each start our own Clan. There is no security in loner life; we all must follow the Warrior Code if we are to survive.”
“Swift will be joining me as my deputy,” Timber added, “and Reed will join Meadow. Tomorrow we shall conduct the ceremony for everyone who wishes to join. Please join.”
There was anguish in both of their eyes, but whether the pleadings were for their littermates’ safety or their own successes, again Fade couldn’t tell. She listened as they explained in great detail what they had planned and watched as both cats bowed their heads in greeting and went on their way. As soon as they were out of sight, mutterings filled the air.
“Clans,” Fern spat, clearly irritated. “How dare they suggest such a thing? We’re perfectly happy with our lives, we are.”
“Will you join?” Frost asked. Fern twitched her whiskers.
“I don’t know.”
“I think it would be a good experience,” Frost continued. “Yes, I am happy with my current life, but I’m getting old. It would be nice to be taken care of when I cannot care for myself.”
“That’s true,” Fern admitted. She opened her mouth to continue arguing, but she couldn’t find the words, so she merely asked, “What do you young cats think?”
“I’ll do it!” Sky replied without any hesitation. “It sounds like fun, and a good idea. Working together will make it easier on us all, don’t you think?”
“There will be wars, and that’s what’s holding me back,” Fade meowed. “Those two hold a lot of tension together. They’re agreeing now, but just wait for those borders.” She sighed. “I think I’ll be joining, but I wish there was another way to help out, you know? I’ll… I’ll think about.”
And she did.
That night when she was curled up in her nest, her warm pelt rubbing against her mothers, she dreamed. She found herself in a clearing, but it was not the same one. This one was foreign, but it felt like she knew it. It felt like a home.
“Fade!” The voice was low and close. Fade looked around but saw no one. Not at first. Then out of the stars came a cat. A cat came out of the stars. Fade almost couldn’t believe it.
“Fade,” the cat repeated. It was a dappled she-cat with a yellowish pelt that sparkled like the stars she had just been in. Fade padded closer to her and looked her over.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Spottedheart,” the cat replied. “I have come down from StarClan to help you find your way. You will join the Clans, Fade.”
Fade’s pelt bristled slightly at Spottedheart’s ordering her around, but she said nothing.
“You will join the Clans but you will not become a warrior.”
“Will I die?” Fade asked suddenly.
“Not yet,” Spottedheart mewed in amusement. “No, you will be a medicine cat. That is how you will serve your Clan. You will tend to their wounds and aches using the herbs that Fern taught you about. Sky will be your apprentice. Teach her everything you know; make sure she knows it all by heart. You will do well, Fade. You have Clan blood in you. I know.”
And she faded back into the stars.
Fade woke up with a jolt. She looked up at the sky; it was daylight, and the stars were gone again. Spottedheart was up there, she knew. It wasn’t just a dream. That was StarClan.
As more cats began moving around, she stood up and shook her pelt loose. Sky bounded up to her. “Wake up, furball!” she teased. “Timber and Meadow are back! Are you ready?”
Fade nodded, seeming to have lost her voice. She followed Sky to where their mothers were sitting. Fern looked over at them skeptically.
“Are you going to do it?” she asked.
“Yes.” It was Fade this time who responded, and Fern seemed surprised. She turned back to the Stump and neither cat said anything until the meeting began.
It was Timber and Meadow now who called the meeting. They stood up on the stump and looked down at all the Clans, their pelts seeming to glow in pride. Timber cleared his throat and meowed, “We are back!”
“Really?” Sky muttered impatiently. Fade laughed slightly.
“But we are not the same cats,” he continued. “I am Timberstar!”
“And Meadowstar,” the she-cat added since it was clear he wasn’t going to mention it.
“StarClan has granted us with our nine lives and now the Clans must begin. First I call Swift up to the Stump.” Swift padded forward, looking up at him proudly. “I say these words before our warrior ancestors, so that their spirits may hear and approve my choice. Swiftclaw will be the first deputy of TimberClan.”
Next Reed came up to the stump and sat down eagerly. Meadowstar watched him fondly. “I say these words before our warrior ancestors, so that their spirits may hear and approve my choice. Reedwhisker will be the first deputy of MeadowClan.”
The two cats bowed their heads in respect and sat beside their leaders. Thus began the naming ceremonies.
One by one, each cat came up to the Stump, chose their Clan, and received their new name. With each suffix came a rousing call of approval from the remaining cats, all suddenly eager for this new experience. Finally only a few cats were left.
“Fade, do you wish to be a part of the Clans?”
Fade looked up to see Timberstar looking down at her hopefully. She nodded and stepped forward, but before he could say anything else, she mewed, “But I don’t want to be a warrior. StarClan came to me in a dream last night. I am to be a medicine cat, with Sky as my apprentice. Please understand.”
“And which Clan do you wish to be a part of?” he asked, suddenly interested. She gulped; she hadn’t even thought of this.
“M-MeadowClan,” she replied. Timberstar stepped back and let Meadowstar complete her ceremony. “Fade, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from the rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”
“I do.” There was no going back.
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your true name as a medicine cat. Fade, from this moment you will be known as Fadedpelt. You will mentor Skypaw.”
Skypaw bounded forward happily and touched noses with Fadedpelt, who was sitting in absolute shock. It felt good to be in a Clan. She had made the right choice. And so she padded over with Skypaw to where the other MeadowClan cats were sitting.
“Fern, do you wish to be a part of the Clans?”
It was Meadow who asked this time, and Fern nodded and stepped forward.
“I, too, wish to uphold the ways of a medicine cat.”
Fadedpelt’s eyes grew wide. That would mean she was in TimberClan! They couldn’t be together! What was she doing?
Timberstar padded forward. “Fern, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from the rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”
“I do.”
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your true name as a medicine cat. Fern, from this moment you will be known as Ferntail.”
Ferntail bowed her head and padded over to TimberClan. Fadedpelt’s heart sank, but she knew she had done the right thing. Both Clans needed a medicine cat. If only they hadn’t been the ones to do it.
Finally only Frost was waiting. “Frost, do you– ”
“No,” Frost interrupted him. “If Gray is to be staying here, then I must, as well. I cannot leave her.”
Both Timberstar and Meadowstar looked to the old gray she-cat who had for so long been their leader. “Gray, do you wish to be a part of the Clans?”
Gray shook her head. “I am too old, Timberstar,” she replied. “I have no life in me to protect my Clan. I must stay here.”
“You could be an elder,” Meadowstar suggested, but still Gray refused.
“If there is anything we can do to thank you,” Timberstar meowed respectfully. Gray shook her head, but Frost opened her mouth to reply.
“Timberstar, each of us remaining would love nothing more to join to your Clans, but we cannot leave our lives as they are. However, we now believe in StarClan as you do. Please allow our decision to be compensated in our name.”
Meadowstar smiled and nodded. “I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon these remaining cats. Even without a Clan to care for, they respect StarClan and understand the importance of the warrior code. They have raised us and guided us to your ways. Please accept them in their ways and look upon them as the cat they wish to be. Frost, from this moment you shall be known as Frostfoot.”
Fadedpelt’s voice rang highest to welcome her, and she continued to cry as the others were welcomed. Finally it came down to Gray.
“You have taught us most of all,” Timberstar mewed to her. “Gray, from this moment you shall be known as Graywing. I wish you well.”
“And that concludes the building of the Clans,” Meadowstar called, and all of the Clan cats cried out in excitement. The two leaders stood in front of their Clans and began to lead them into the forest. Fadedpelt burrowed her head into Frostfoot’s pelt as she passed.
“Thank you, Frostfoot. I will never forget you.”
“You and Ferntail are right to choose what you did. I wish you luck in your new lives. I love you,” she mewed warmly.
And then they were gone.
Many moons passed before Fadedpelt heard from either cat again. It was leaf-bare, and MeadowClan was beginning to struggle. Fadedpelt had already saved three kits from sickness and was exhausted from the work. Skypaw was already curled up in their den and looked up when Fadedpelt entered.
“Get some rest,” she mewed, flicking her mentor with her light gray tail. “You need it. If anything happens, I’ll keep an eye open. Get some rest.”
Fadedpelt nodded and stretched out, then curled up beside Skypaw and closed her eyes. She had been doing too much lately; sleep came too easy.
For the second time Fadedpelt found herself in the StarClan clearing. It was not foreign to her now, now that she knew what it was and what it meant. She sat down in the cool grass and waited.
Then came the shock.
A brown she-cat wound her way into the clearing, her yellow eyes dancing as she came forward, her pelt glistening like the stars. Fadedpelt’s heart sank and the tears filled her eyes; it was Ferntail. She was dead.
“Fadedpelt!” Ferntail called, bounding up to her with a smile. This feeling was clearly not reciprocated.
“Ferntail. What happened?” was all Fadedpelt could say. She brushed herself against her mother’s flank, wishing for it not to be true.
“Sickness has entered the TimberClan camp,” Ferntail replied gravely. “Many cats have whitecough; some are slipping into greencough.”
“Is that how you…?”
“Yes.” Ferntail lowered her eyes and sat down beside the MeadowClan cat. “What do you think of MeadowClan?” she asked slowly.
“MeadowClan? Well, it’s perfectly nice, I suppose.”
“Do you not like it?”
“I love it. But it never has felt like home.”
Ferntail looked up, staring at her hopefully. “I come to say this both as a StarClan cat and a TimberClan cat: please save TimberClan.”
“How?” Fadedpelt mewed meekly.
“You must become their medicine cat. I didn’t have an apprentice,” she admitted, “and it is high time Skypaw be getting somewhere.” She looked to the sky, clear of all stars. “There’s not enough time to go to the Moontree. You must give her her name now.”
Fadedpelt bowed her head and nodded. When she looked up, Skypaw was just waking up from her spot in the grass. When she gained control of her consciousness, she looked around excitedly. “Is this StarClan?”
Fadedpelt smiled and nodded. “You have trained hard, Skypaw. It is time you be receiving your medicine cat name.”
“Now?” Skypaw was not one to miss something, and it seemed odd to be given such a ceremony in the middle of a random night.
“Yes. TimberClan has fallen ill and they don’t have a medicine cat to care for them. I must go help them. You must take control of MeadowClan.” She cleared her throat and bent her head toward the sky, but her eyes looked straight at Ferntail. “I call upon my ancestors to look down upon this cat. She has trained hard and it is time for her to be receiving her name. Skypaw, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from the rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”
Skypaw was shaking with excitement. “I do!”
“Then by the power of StarClan I grant you your true name as a medicine cat. Skypaw, from this moment you will be known as Skywing, in honor of our first leader, Graywing.”
“Skywing, Skywing!” Ferntail called, a little bit of teasing riddled in her voice.
“I must go now,” Fadedpelt whispered to Skywing. “I have to go tell Meadowstar of my decision. You will serve your Clan well, I am certain. Good luck to you.”
She curled back up and buried her nose in her pelt. She woke up a moment later in the darkness of her own den with Skywing beside her. She smiled and licked her apprentice’s nose lovingly, then stood up to go alert Meadowstar. There was no time to lose.
Fadedpelt lost two TimberClan cats to greencough, but managed to help the others. She stayed with TimberClan for the rest of her life, even though it, too, never did feel like home. No, nothing felt like home until she was embraced by her warrior ancestors, by Ferntail and Frostfoot and Spottedheart, up in StarClan. StarClan was home. StarClan had always been home.
This was the way of a medicine cat.
But as a quick wave of pain overtook her, she knew she was too late. She collapsed to the ground, gasping and panting furiously. There would be no help for her. She would have to do what she could.
In the coming hour, she would give birth to three kits, but she didn’t have the energy to tend to them; she hardly had the breath to name them. And so she looked over at her babies and sighed, carefully choosing each name for her children. “You, darling,” she breathed to the largest of the three, a ginger tabby tom, “shall be named Sandkit. And you shall be Foxkit,” she told the other tom, a mewling reddish kit, “and you…”
She didn’t have it in her to name the little tortoiseshell she-kit before her. She just didn’t. And so at that moment, she was accepted into StarClan. She brought with her Sandkit and Foxkit.
The tortoiseshell was left behind.
It was cold, desperate, dying itself, and so it brushed up against its mother’s flank and mewled. It mewled with all its life, crying with its heart and soul. It wasn’t until the following morning, at the break of dawn, when its cries were finally heard.
Fern and Frost were taking a walk that morning. They were of the First Cats, as they are known now, and such a pair of opposites you’ve never seen. Listen to this morning’s conversation to see if you agree:
“Isn’t it so delightfully warm and bright today? This is such a lovely morning, don’t you think?” This was Frost. She was always very bright and chipper, never thinking anything without getting at least one other opinion. She was a lovely longhaired she-cat, her fur being as white and clear “as her personality,” as many cats claimed. She loved to hear them say this. Frost couldn’t bear being criticized. But who would criticize such a friendly cat as she?
Fern disagreed, as Fern was prone to doing. “This is a horrid morning. It is much too humid, and the trees cover so much of the light. It’s far too cold to be wandering about in the dark. I was hoping to warm my pelt today, but it seems the odds are against me as usual. I’m freezing my tail off, I am!” She pulled her tail to her dark brown pelt to prove it to her companion. Frost rolled her eyes. Only Fern could make her do this. Fern could make anybody do anything. She was horribly manipulative, which wouldn’t have been so bad if she were nicer about it. Fern was not usually a nice cat. She was hot-tempered and could never decide on anything. If one cat said one thing and another disagreed, she opposed them both. And yet, she was filled with charisma. Nobody could figure out how.
“A horrid morning?” Frost mewed, aghast. “Only you could say such a thing!”
“I disagree!”
“Oh? I’ll bet you can’t find another creature in the forest that is as unhappy as you are. Moles don’t count! They’re never happy with anything.”
“Well, that kit doesn’t seem too happy,” Fern smirked.
“Kit?” Frost looked up suddenly, a horrid feeling of trepidation creeping into her pelt. Even Fern seemed concerned, which Fern never was.
“It’s not here, mousebrain,” she spat, sliding past Frost with her thin, earthy pelt. “It’s somewhere over there. Can’t you hear it?”
“No,” Frost whimpered. Fern sniffed and flicked her tail for her to follow.
They crept through the undergrowth for a couple of foxlengths until a bitter smell wafted into their noses. Fern stopped suddenly and Frost gulped. They knew that smell. Every cat did. It was one nobody could forget.
They waited a dreaded moment before hearing the mewling kit again, at which point they both let out relieved sighs. Fern, being insensitive in most ways, was the first to creep back forward. She saw the beautiful spotted she-cat there, lying dead on the forest floor, and lowered her gaze. She continued forward, however, and investigated the scene further. Three kits laid at her side; two ginger toms and a tortoiseshell she-kit. She nosed them slightly before one of them squealed, then she pinched the scruff of the survivor’s neck with her teeth and carried it to safety. She set it down at Frost’s paws, who was trembling in fear. She didn’t do well in these types of situations.
“It’s okay, Frost,” she mewed carefully. “Look who we have here! A little she-kit, by the looks of it.”
Frost opened one of her eyes and looked down at the kit carefully. A wave of satisfaction overtook her when she saw the little pelt wriggling underneath her. “Oh, isn’t she darling?” she cooed, reaching down to lick her fur lovingly.
“She is awful pretty,” Fern admitted. She, too, had a soft spot for kits.
“Our lovely little tortoiseshell. Only… it’s not quite like that, is it? Her whole pelt is lighter, like it’s been sitting in the sun for too long.”
“Faded,” the other agreed.
“Exactly. Faded. Our little Fade.”
Love burned within the hearts of the two cats, and two pairs of eyes, one yellow, one blue, looked down at her warmly. They knew what they had to do.
The voyage to the clearing was easy. The only hard part was deciding who should carry the kit back home. Finally Fern allowed Frost to do the honors; besides, it would ruin her reputation.
The First Cats were halfway between primitive and cultivated; that is, they lived and worked together, but were more like a band of loners than a Clan. The two cats and their new companion weaved around the nests that were randomly placed across the clearing and padded towards the Stump. That’s all that the great landmark was called; the Stump. It wasn’t used much.
No, that’s a lie. It wasn’t used much as a group. As an individual, it was perfect. The tree that used to stand there had once been cracked by lightning, and within this deep crack was a sheltered nest for whichever cat was their leader. Even a band of loners needed a leader. The lucky cat was named Gray.
“Gray!” Fern called abruptly, poking her nose into the opening in the Stump. Frost was aghast at such suddenness, but was shocked further still when Gray actually responded.
“May I help you?” The she-cat slipped out of her den and sat beside the others, grooming her silver fur with airs. She didn’t like to be disturbed.
Frost set the kit down at her feet and replied, “Please do, Mother.”
Yes, Gray was Frost’s mother.
Gray did not seem impressed or interested. “Fern, darling, you mustn’t be stealing kits. Go on, give it back.”
“Stealing kits!” Fern spat, her pelt bristling.
“It reeks of… of… ugh!”
“This is Fade,” Frost continued. “We found her in the middle of the forest.”
Gray wasn’t a mousebrain, and could see that the tiny thing had only just been kitted. It couldn’t have escaped its camp.
“You think the mother– ”
“Her mother is dead.” Fern bowed her head. “She was there. Two other kits were there, as well, but it was too late.”
Gray pricked her ears and finally looked down at the kit with sympathy. She, unlike Frost or Fern, did not have a soft spot for kits. She cared for all of her cats equally, and that this kit was a rogue, as it seemed, hadn’t been helping. But now that there was the slightest bit of interest in her, there was no going back.
“Fade, you say?”
Frost mrrowd in amusement. Fade would stay.
The two friends raised the young kit for many moons, until soon she wasn’t even a kit anymore. But she was always theirs. Together they formed Fade’s mother, and no cat could deny it.
Fade quickly became family to these cats, and her bloodline never seemed to matter. Even the other young cats, usually the most prejudiced of all (or at least the most vocal), didn’t seem to take note. But that doesn’t mean they palled around with her. The youngest cat next to Fade was a good six moons older, and at this point, it was a bit too late to make very close friends. Fade didn’t seem to care, however, and instead spent most of her time around the older cats. She loved being with the elders of the community for they told the best stories; their heads were riddled with legendary cats, heroic or vile or normal in every sense. When they weren’t around or Frost insisted on her being with cats more her age, she would go to the younger cats and watch them play. Only the adults would let her take part, however, showing her all of their battle moves and hunting tricks and how best to annoy Gray (Gray was a fabulous cat, but was terribly fun to mess with).
Fern, however, was not one for such vulgarity; or at least not on purpose. So every once in a while Fade would walk with the she-cat through the forest and listen to her pearls of wisdom.
While knowing almost nothing of fighting, the she-cat had a born talent for medicine. Fade loved to hear her drawl on and on about comfrey this and yarrow that, quickly memorizing each herb, what it did, and how best to use it. “You do that,” Fern sniffed. “It’ll come to good use one day or another.”
Fade believed her. And it was a good thing she had.
Seasons passed and cats changed, some growing older while others grew bolder. The next litter of kits brought more hope to Fade, who found comfort in their playfulness. While the other cats enjoyed them as well, they preferred the even-tempered and perfectly healthy Wind and Rain, while Fade took more interest in the smaller but brighter Sky. Sky had quite a personality, if you know what I mean, and Fade was just about the only cat she was close friends with. She, too, enjoyed listening to stories and learning techniques and particularly memorizing herbs. Soon the cats were joined at the hip.
“Tell me more about dock!” Sky insisted one morning.
“Okay. Rocks are round, hard things that stick and the ground and…”
“No, dock!” Sky mewled in laughter. Fade rolled her eyes playfully and batted her ears.
“I’ve taught you about dock a million times! Let’s talk about something more interesting. Like daisies. See, daisies you usually only find in Newleaf, so…”
“What’s that?”
“Newleaf? It’s the season we’re in right now. You know that.”
“No, not Newleaf! That, by the Stump! I mean, what’s going on?”
Fade looked up to see a crowd of cats gathered around their sacred Stump, which was so unusual that it almost knocked her off her feet. “I don’t know,” she replied quickly, “but we’d better go find out.”
The two quickly padded forward and took a seat beside Frost and Fern. “What’s going on?” Fade asked of them.
“A Clan meeting,” Fern huffed.
“Since when are we a Clan?” Sky mumbled, and Frost shook her head.
“We’re not, but I see some young cats have a couple of ideas in their heads.”
Fade scanned the crowd to find Gray at the base of the Stump with two cats speaking rapidly talking to her. After a moment she bowed her head in understanding and sprang back onto its woody surface. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Stump for a Clan meeting!” She looked back down to the two cats, and they nodded. She waited a moment for any stragglers and continued, “My dear cats, tonight we shall say goodbye to two of our cats, Timber and Meadow. See, they… Well, I’ll let them explain it.” She leaped off of the Stump and the two cats at the base leapt up. They seemed to glare at each other.
“We are not leaving forever, not just yet,” Timber began, looking down upon the cats with strength in his eyes. “But tonight Meadow and I will be looking for what they call the Moontree so that we may receive our nine lives. We will each be starting a Clan!”
Fade couldn’t tell if the murmurs were for the nine lives or the new Clans, but each seemed pretty interesting.
“Tomorrow,” Meadow interrupted, “we will return to you and request that you all join one of our Clans. See, StarClan came to both of us in a dream and asked told us of the dangers that lie ahead.”
“Dangers?” one cat cried. “What kind of dangers?”
“We don’t know,” the tabby she-cat admitted. “That’s all they said; dangers. But they did tell us that in order to escape these dangers, we must each start our own Clan. There is no security in loner life; we all must follow the Warrior Code if we are to survive.”
“Swift will be joining me as my deputy,” Timber added, “and Reed will join Meadow. Tomorrow we shall conduct the ceremony for everyone who wishes to join. Please join.”
There was anguish in both of their eyes, but whether the pleadings were for their littermates’ safety or their own successes, again Fade couldn’t tell. She listened as they explained in great detail what they had planned and watched as both cats bowed their heads in greeting and went on their way. As soon as they were out of sight, mutterings filled the air.
“Clans,” Fern spat, clearly irritated. “How dare they suggest such a thing? We’re perfectly happy with our lives, we are.”
“Will you join?” Frost asked. Fern twitched her whiskers.
“I don’t know.”
“I think it would be a good experience,” Frost continued. “Yes, I am happy with my current life, but I’m getting old. It would be nice to be taken care of when I cannot care for myself.”
“That’s true,” Fern admitted. She opened her mouth to continue arguing, but she couldn’t find the words, so she merely asked, “What do you young cats think?”
“I’ll do it!” Sky replied without any hesitation. “It sounds like fun, and a good idea. Working together will make it easier on us all, don’t you think?”
“There will be wars, and that’s what’s holding me back,” Fade meowed. “Those two hold a lot of tension together. They’re agreeing now, but just wait for those borders.” She sighed. “I think I’ll be joining, but I wish there was another way to help out, you know? I’ll… I’ll think about.”
And she did.
That night when she was curled up in her nest, her warm pelt rubbing against her mothers, she dreamed. She found herself in a clearing, but it was not the same one. This one was foreign, but it felt like she knew it. It felt like a home.
“Fade!” The voice was low and close. Fade looked around but saw no one. Not at first. Then out of the stars came a cat. A cat came out of the stars. Fade almost couldn’t believe it.
“Fade,” the cat repeated. It was a dappled she-cat with a yellowish pelt that sparkled like the stars she had just been in. Fade padded closer to her and looked her over.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Spottedheart,” the cat replied. “I have come down from StarClan to help you find your way. You will join the Clans, Fade.”
Fade’s pelt bristled slightly at Spottedheart’s ordering her around, but she said nothing.
“You will join the Clans but you will not become a warrior.”
“Will I die?” Fade asked suddenly.
“Not yet,” Spottedheart mewed in amusement. “No, you will be a medicine cat. That is how you will serve your Clan. You will tend to their wounds and aches using the herbs that Fern taught you about. Sky will be your apprentice. Teach her everything you know; make sure she knows it all by heart. You will do well, Fade. You have Clan blood in you. I know.”
And she faded back into the stars.
Fade woke up with a jolt. She looked up at the sky; it was daylight, and the stars were gone again. Spottedheart was up there, she knew. It wasn’t just a dream. That was StarClan.
As more cats began moving around, she stood up and shook her pelt loose. Sky bounded up to her. “Wake up, furball!” she teased. “Timber and Meadow are back! Are you ready?”
Fade nodded, seeming to have lost her voice. She followed Sky to where their mothers were sitting. Fern looked over at them skeptically.
“Are you going to do it?” she asked.
“Yes.” It was Fade this time who responded, and Fern seemed surprised. She turned back to the Stump and neither cat said anything until the meeting began.
It was Timber and Meadow now who called the meeting. They stood up on the stump and looked down at all the Clans, their pelts seeming to glow in pride. Timber cleared his throat and meowed, “We are back!”
“Really?” Sky muttered impatiently. Fade laughed slightly.
“But we are not the same cats,” he continued. “I am Timberstar!”
“And Meadowstar,” the she-cat added since it was clear he wasn’t going to mention it.
“StarClan has granted us with our nine lives and now the Clans must begin. First I call Swift up to the Stump.” Swift padded forward, looking up at him proudly. “I say these words before our warrior ancestors, so that their spirits may hear and approve my choice. Swiftclaw will be the first deputy of TimberClan.”
Next Reed came up to the stump and sat down eagerly. Meadowstar watched him fondly. “I say these words before our warrior ancestors, so that their spirits may hear and approve my choice. Reedwhisker will be the first deputy of MeadowClan.”
The two cats bowed their heads in respect and sat beside their leaders. Thus began the naming ceremonies.
One by one, each cat came up to the Stump, chose their Clan, and received their new name. With each suffix came a rousing call of approval from the remaining cats, all suddenly eager for this new experience. Finally only a few cats were left.
“Fade, do you wish to be a part of the Clans?”
Fade looked up to see Timberstar looking down at her hopefully. She nodded and stepped forward, but before he could say anything else, she mewed, “But I don’t want to be a warrior. StarClan came to me in a dream last night. I am to be a medicine cat, with Sky as my apprentice. Please understand.”
“And which Clan do you wish to be a part of?” he asked, suddenly interested. She gulped; she hadn’t even thought of this.
“M-MeadowClan,” she replied. Timberstar stepped back and let Meadowstar complete her ceremony. “Fade, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from the rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”
“I do.” There was no going back.
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your true name as a medicine cat. Fade, from this moment you will be known as Fadedpelt. You will mentor Skypaw.”
Skypaw bounded forward happily and touched noses with Fadedpelt, who was sitting in absolute shock. It felt good to be in a Clan. She had made the right choice. And so she padded over with Skypaw to where the other MeadowClan cats were sitting.
“Fern, do you wish to be a part of the Clans?”
It was Meadow who asked this time, and Fern nodded and stepped forward.
“I, too, wish to uphold the ways of a medicine cat.”
Fadedpelt’s eyes grew wide. That would mean she was in TimberClan! They couldn’t be together! What was she doing?
Timberstar padded forward. “Fern, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from the rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”
“I do.”
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your true name as a medicine cat. Fern, from this moment you will be known as Ferntail.”
Ferntail bowed her head and padded over to TimberClan. Fadedpelt’s heart sank, but she knew she had done the right thing. Both Clans needed a medicine cat. If only they hadn’t been the ones to do it.
Finally only Frost was waiting. “Frost, do you– ”
“No,” Frost interrupted him. “If Gray is to be staying here, then I must, as well. I cannot leave her.”
Both Timberstar and Meadowstar looked to the old gray she-cat who had for so long been their leader. “Gray, do you wish to be a part of the Clans?”
Gray shook her head. “I am too old, Timberstar,” she replied. “I have no life in me to protect my Clan. I must stay here.”
“You could be an elder,” Meadowstar suggested, but still Gray refused.
“If there is anything we can do to thank you,” Timberstar meowed respectfully. Gray shook her head, but Frost opened her mouth to reply.
“Timberstar, each of us remaining would love nothing more to join to your Clans, but we cannot leave our lives as they are. However, we now believe in StarClan as you do. Please allow our decision to be compensated in our name.”
Meadowstar smiled and nodded. “I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon these remaining cats. Even without a Clan to care for, they respect StarClan and understand the importance of the warrior code. They have raised us and guided us to your ways. Please accept them in their ways and look upon them as the cat they wish to be. Frost, from this moment you shall be known as Frostfoot.”
Fadedpelt’s voice rang highest to welcome her, and she continued to cry as the others were welcomed. Finally it came down to Gray.
“You have taught us most of all,” Timberstar mewed to her. “Gray, from this moment you shall be known as Graywing. I wish you well.”
“And that concludes the building of the Clans,” Meadowstar called, and all of the Clan cats cried out in excitement. The two leaders stood in front of their Clans and began to lead them into the forest. Fadedpelt burrowed her head into Frostfoot’s pelt as she passed.
“Thank you, Frostfoot. I will never forget you.”
“You and Ferntail are right to choose what you did. I wish you luck in your new lives. I love you,” she mewed warmly.
And then they were gone.
Many moons passed before Fadedpelt heard from either cat again. It was leaf-bare, and MeadowClan was beginning to struggle. Fadedpelt had already saved three kits from sickness and was exhausted from the work. Skypaw was already curled up in their den and looked up when Fadedpelt entered.
“Get some rest,” she mewed, flicking her mentor with her light gray tail. “You need it. If anything happens, I’ll keep an eye open. Get some rest.”
Fadedpelt nodded and stretched out, then curled up beside Skypaw and closed her eyes. She had been doing too much lately; sleep came too easy.
For the second time Fadedpelt found herself in the StarClan clearing. It was not foreign to her now, now that she knew what it was and what it meant. She sat down in the cool grass and waited.
Then came the shock.
A brown she-cat wound her way into the clearing, her yellow eyes dancing as she came forward, her pelt glistening like the stars. Fadedpelt’s heart sank and the tears filled her eyes; it was Ferntail. She was dead.
“Fadedpelt!” Ferntail called, bounding up to her with a smile. This feeling was clearly not reciprocated.
“Ferntail. What happened?” was all Fadedpelt could say. She brushed herself against her mother’s flank, wishing for it not to be true.
“Sickness has entered the TimberClan camp,” Ferntail replied gravely. “Many cats have whitecough; some are slipping into greencough.”
“Is that how you…?”
“Yes.” Ferntail lowered her eyes and sat down beside the MeadowClan cat. “What do you think of MeadowClan?” she asked slowly.
“MeadowClan? Well, it’s perfectly nice, I suppose.”
“Do you not like it?”
“I love it. But it never has felt like home.”
Ferntail looked up, staring at her hopefully. “I come to say this both as a StarClan cat and a TimberClan cat: please save TimberClan.”
“How?” Fadedpelt mewed meekly.
“You must become their medicine cat. I didn’t have an apprentice,” she admitted, “and it is high time Skypaw be getting somewhere.” She looked to the sky, clear of all stars. “There’s not enough time to go to the Moontree. You must give her her name now.”
Fadedpelt bowed her head and nodded. When she looked up, Skypaw was just waking up from her spot in the grass. When she gained control of her consciousness, she looked around excitedly. “Is this StarClan?”
Fadedpelt smiled and nodded. “You have trained hard, Skypaw. It is time you be receiving your medicine cat name.”
“Now?” Skypaw was not one to miss something, and it seemed odd to be given such a ceremony in the middle of a random night.
“Yes. TimberClan has fallen ill and they don’t have a medicine cat to care for them. I must go help them. You must take control of MeadowClan.” She cleared her throat and bent her head toward the sky, but her eyes looked straight at Ferntail. “I call upon my ancestors to look down upon this cat. She has trained hard and it is time for her to be receiving her name. Skypaw, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from the rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”
Skypaw was shaking with excitement. “I do!”
“Then by the power of StarClan I grant you your true name as a medicine cat. Skypaw, from this moment you will be known as Skywing, in honor of our first leader, Graywing.”
“Skywing, Skywing!” Ferntail called, a little bit of teasing riddled in her voice.
“I must go now,” Fadedpelt whispered to Skywing. “I have to go tell Meadowstar of my decision. You will serve your Clan well, I am certain. Good luck to you.”
She curled back up and buried her nose in her pelt. She woke up a moment later in the darkness of her own den with Skywing beside her. She smiled and licked her apprentice’s nose lovingly, then stood up to go alert Meadowstar. There was no time to lose.
Fadedpelt lost two TimberClan cats to greencough, but managed to help the others. She stayed with TimberClan for the rest of her life, even though it, too, never did feel like home. No, nothing felt like home until she was embraced by her warrior ancestors, by Ferntail and Frostfoot and Spottedheart, up in StarClan. StarClan was home. StarClan had always been home.
This was the way of a medicine cat.