Mothfoot rests a clump of lavender on a limp, broken body. She steps back and sits by her brother, observing as Cindertail takes her place and drops chamomile from her jaws. The dark grey molly falters, squinting her eyes before letting her legs collapse underneath her and falling onto the body.

"Cindertail," begins another, but he is cut off by the looming Marigoldstar.

The Leader says, "leave her be, Mottlefur," and gazes down at Cindertail weeping into her father's pelt. The tom flattens his ears sheepishly.

Above the mourning sobs, Marigoldstar begins speaking. "Tallscar was one of the bravest toms I've ever met— and throughout my nine lives, I've seen many of them. Out of the pawful of deputies I've had the honor of serving with, he will remain my closest companion." She eyes the body before her. "We lost him today. We lost him to a heartless Riverclan patrol that would not listen to reason. You should all know very well that I will be bringing this up to Heronstar at the Gathering that is quickly approaching."

"It's awful," Copperhawk whispers to Mothfoot. "Imagine losing Stormcloud like that."

Mothfoot shudders at the thought. She glances over at her own father, who is staring blankly at the body. She can't help but feel a pang of empathy for him. The senior Warrior just lost one of his oldest friends, now being forced to watch as the cat's daughter sobs over his corpse. "I don't even want to think about it," Mothfoot replies flatly.

"Who do you think Marigoldstar is going to choose as his replacement?" Copperhawk asks, eyes transfixed on the Leader. Mothfoot can see right through him. What he's really asking is: do you think it'll be me?

Her brother has mooned over the idea of becoming Leader since kithood, as most cats do. Ever since their apprenticeship, he's been clawing for their Leader's special attention. But, admittedly, Mothfoot has never been able to see her brother leading a Clan. The tom is scatterbrained and has a habit of jumping in decisions without much thinking— two traits you don't want in a Leader. Mothfoot takes a second to debate with herself over who in the Clan could be a good enough replacement for Tallscar. She's left indecisive.

Cindertail was the last cat to pay their respects to the fallen Deputy. By now, others have shuffled their way away from the scene to mourn and share memories. The two cats chosen to help bury the body stand nearby, one comforting Cindertail enough to get her to rise and allow them to carry him away. Marigoldstar nods to them as they go to exit the camp. "I'm putting a strict curfew on the Clan until further notice. No one is to leave after sunset; there will be a night patrol under my lead," she concludes and leaps down from her stone. The tall molly pads past the siblings and Mothfoot notes how long she keeps her eyes steady on them.

"Beautiful ceremony," Copperhawk mews to her.

Marigoldstar stops for a second. "Indeed," she responds shortly before continuing her gait to her den. Cloudwhisker, the medicine cat, follows behind her.

"Did you see that?" Copperhawk nearly sings, "She was practically gawking at us! Do you think it was a good move to say something?"

"Sure," Mothfoot says. She doesn't think it was a good move at all. She's frankly embarrassed whenever her brother says much of anything.

She scans the Clan. Everyone seems tense and many heads are turned towards the Leaders' den. Marigoldstar's time starts now. The sun is centered in the sky, not leaving the molly not long to decide who the new Deputy will be.

"Mothfoot, Copperhawk." The voice of their mother snaps Mothfoot back into reality. "How are the two of you doing?"

Copperhawk speaks for both of them. "We're alright, thanks."

"I know you two didn't know Tallscar very well or for very long, but I have to remind you how close he was to your father." Hazeltuft gestures to Stormcloud with a wave of her tail. "He would visit the two of you when you were just born as much as Stormcloud would."

"Did he?" Mothfoot asks, unaware until now that Tallscar had any interest in them.

Hazeltuft nods, reminiscing. "The other Queens were very jealous I had the most handsome toms in the clan fawning over my wellbeing." She chuckles softly to herself. "I'm sure… he will be missed dearly by the whole Clan."

"We know," Copperhawk says.

Their mother's gaze seems to harden on him. "Which is why I have to remind you two to be careful when interacting with the older Warriors. Be kind, be thoughtful, be respectful."

Those three ideals have been imprinted in the minds of the siblings since they could open their eyes. Mothfoot replies, "of course," and dips her head. Copperhawk mutters something like yeah, yeah, and she wants to swipe him in the head. How are we the same age yet he has the maturity of a 2-week old kittypet? The molly thinks to herself.

"Be especially gentle to your father. He's in a very fragile state." With that, Hazeltuft leaves to share tongues with the other mollies.

Mothfoot finds her eyes traveling to her father once more. Stormcloud still sits where he was before, eyes still locked where they were before, the tears welling up and staining his face just as they were before.

It's going to be a long time before the Clan heals.

—

Copperhawk calls to his sister from over his shoulder, "come on, turtle-paws! Keep up!" He bolts across the forest floor, dodging branches and rocks that lay in his wild path.

Mothfoot falls almost begrudgingly behind, continuing to taste the air in all directions just in case. The siblings were not put on the night patrol. They were told by the mother to stay in the camp. Mothfoot herself put up a fight, but no— Copperhawk needed to get out of the camp.

"What if something happens?" Copperhawk said, bristling as he eyed the entrance. "What if they trip up and don't see someone coming? The forest is full of blind spots at night."

"Exactly," Mothfoot argued, "which is why you can play hero with the apprentices in the morning."

Copperhawk scowled. "I'm going."

And so, Mothfoot had to follow. If she didn't, who knows what her mother would do if something happened to him. Getting caught together and safe, she thinks, is better than him being found alone.

The tom races forward as if he has any idea as to where he's going to end up. His plan, as he said when they were leaving, was to stay out of the patrol's line of sight while sticking close behind. They have yet to find the patrol.

"Copperhawk," Mothfoot hisses, "slow down! Your paws don't even know where they're taking your body."

He steadies himself to a halt, sister coming up to his side and panting. "I know they're around here somewhere," he says. "This is the exact route I took on my last night patrol."

"They might have changed the course, mousebrain," Mothfoot replies. "For all we know, Riverclan could be waiting at the turning point for an ambush."

"And if they are, we'll fight them off. That way, the patrol won't have to worry."

Mothfoot narrows her eyes. "You must have a fly in your brain because I'm staying out of this. One breath of Riverclan and I'm turning back."

"You call yourself a warrior?" Copperhawk spits, "Mothfoot, this is serious. What if something happens to Marigoldstar? She hasn't even picked a new Deputy yet."

The fur on Mothfoot's neck stands up straight. "Fine, Copperhawk," she hisses back, "you go on ahead, but I'm taking the blame for nothing that happens if we get caught."

The tom turns tail and continues in his chosen direction, much slower than before. Mothfoot stalks behind him, frustration growling in her throat.

After they get a few tree-lengths away, they hit the river. The water cuts Thunderclan's territory off. The other side belongs to Riverclan, and the natural border is thick with their scent, even from the distance Mothfoot stands. Mothfoot instinctively flattens her ears against her head. "Copperhawk," she says, "something doesn't feel right."

Copperhawk either does not hear her or care to, as he pads closer to the water's edge. The brown molly watches her brother with intensity as he examines his surroundings. They've reached the turning point; this is where the usual night patrol would head back to camp. She doesn't like how long he's lingering.

"Copperhawk, I—"

There isn't an opportunity to finish her thought. In a flash, Copperhawk's form is knocked to the ground. He hits the soil with a loud thud, followed by his cry of shock. Mothfoot sees the shadow of a larger figure pin her brother down, it's head thrashing about as it tries to bite down on him. She knows that she should be bolting to his side, lunging at the attacker and saving her brother. She knows this, but her paws don't move. She freezes in place, eyes widening with horror and she witnesses her brother be clawed at and helplessly try to counter the blows.

Then, a streak of white comes up from behind the two. Though it is dark, Mothfoot can clearly see a slim, white cat slither its way towards them. She is too far to hear what the cat says, but it gets the larger shadow off of her brother. A tail lashes towards the river, ordering whoever to, presumably, go back to its territory. Mothfoot feels her blood go cold as what seems to be glowing, amber eyes locked directly on her. They blink, turn, and disappear over the river.

Heartbeats go on. Mothfoot creeps slowly towards Copperhawk. He breathes heavily, shakily keeping an inconsistent rhythm. The smell of his blood fills her senses. Mothfoot feels tears building up in her eyes. The tom weakly looks up at her and croaks, "don't."

But Mothfoot knows that she has to, and opens her jaws to yowl.

"Help!"