A/N: Well, I suppose this is kind of a work-in-progress now; more was requested, and so more shall be written. I'm probably going to do two or three cats per chapter. I'm perfectly happy to write cats that aren't ThunderClan; I'd make attempts at Crowfeather or maybe Tawnypelt if anybody so desires.However, I refuse to do very minor, obscure characters.
Anyway, moving along...
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Ferncloud made her way towards the lake, her steps slow but sure. A trail was beginning to appear, a thin line of dirt weaving through the trees and undergrowth. She had often walked this exact path, her paws beating down grass and ferns until they could no longer grow there, defeated by the she-cat who diligently walked to the lake.
Settling down in her accustomed place, Ferncloud wrapped her tail around herself, shivering slightly; her pelt had not yet thickened enough to keep her warm. Bending her neck, she lapped up some of the icy water, watching neat ripples fan out. Raising her head, Ferncloud shuddered hard as she remembered what was coming up.
In a little less than a moon, it would be four seasons since Larchkit had died. Not long after that would come the day that Hollykit went to StarClan, and then would come Shrewpaw...Five kits birthed, three in StarClan. No cat should have to bury their kit, Ferncloud thought. Bitterness washed over her as she pictured her kits, kits that should be warriors in ThunderClan right now, or nearly warriors. Birchpaw was almost there.
Ferncloud couldn't decide which was worse: knowing that three of her kits would never receive warrior names, would forever be stuck as kits in the ranks of StarClan; or her constant, gnawing fear that something would happen to Spiderleg, Birchpaw, or Dustpelt. She knew that her eldest son had been a warrior for three seasons now, that her mate had been a warrior longer than she, and that Birchpaw was strong, but still...sighing, Ferncloud tucked her paws under her belly, trying to conserve as much warmth as possible. When she needed to mourn all she had lost, she came here, and did not leave until she was ready to face the Clan.
She wasn't quite ready to go back to camp yet.
StarClan protect them, she thought, gazing up at the light purple sky, darkening with the advancing dusk. After a moment she remembered that begging StarClan to protect her kits was useless. Back in the old territory, hadn't she done just that uncountable times? And still three of her most beloved had been taken from her. Ferncloud wasn't sure whether she could have faith that StarClan really cared about all the cats in the forest; so much had been taken from her and others.
Then again, maybe StarClan hadgiven her kits a place to stay, a forest full of prey and always in full greenleaf. With all the dangers the Clans had faced during their journey across the mountains, the dangers that trailed after them as they settled into their new territory and still haunted many, maybe her kits would have died anyway. Ferncloud recalled how much trouble she'd had just keeping Birchpaw warm and awake over the mountains; could she have managed his now-dead siblings as well?
I suppose StarClan really do know what they're doing, thought Ferncloud, her gaze still fixed on the twilight sky. After a beat, she shook her head and rose to her feet, ready to go back to camp. But then, you never can be sure.
If she had stayed a few minutes longer, Ferncloud would have seen the first three stars of Silverpelt shimmer into being.
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Squirrelflight looked up from her evening meal, searching out the cat she scented. With a strange twinge, she found him among the rest of the Clan, his amber eyes fixed on the ground. Trying to be discreet, she followed Brambleclaw with her eyes, keeping her gaze trained on his shoulders as he walked to a corner of the camp, alone.
Huffing a short sigh through her nose, Squirrelflight felt the now-very-familiar wave of highly mixed emotions wash over her. She remembered many moons ago, getting on four seasons now, when she had first crossed the mountains with Tawnypelt, Feathertail, Crowfeather–Crowpaw, he'd been then–Stormfur, and Brambleclaw. Every day, Squirrelflight had followed Brambleclaw with her eyes, trying to flank him. What she'd first thought of as a close bond similar to the one she shared with Leafpool turned into a crush, and, in a surprisingly short time, that grew into love.
Yes, Squirrelflight knew she had once been in love with Brambleclaw.
"My heart is with ThunderClan; don't you know that? My heart is with you."
She could dimly remember telling him that moons ago, when the Clans were leaving the Tribe's cave and Stormfur made the decision to stay behind. Brambleclaw had been jealous when she said she'd miss Stormfur; her words had reassured him that she was loyal to him. Brambleclaw gave her no such assurances when Hawkfrost came.
Well, no, she corrected herself. Hawkfrost had always been there, a shadow that lingered no matter how bright the sun. What came was Brambleclaw's discovery that he was kin to the RiverClan warrior, and with that came his delusion that Hawkfrost could be trusted. As boundary lines were established and old rivalries rose again, Brambleclaw spent more time wanting to see and talk to his half-brother than he did with her.
From across camp, Brambleclaw, sensing that he was being watched, lifted his head from his fresh-kill. Squirrelflight quickly dropped her eyes before he could catch her staring. Turning her head left, she felt a stab of pain. Brackenfur and Sorreltail lay side by side, sharing a piece of fresh-kill. Their tails were looped together, their heads close in private conversation. Something sunk deep into Squirrelflight, penetrating every muscle; she would never call it envy, but it had no other name.
She and Brambleclaw had lay together like that a few times, and, if she was completely honest with herself, she missed it.
Standing and arching her back, Squirrelflight headed towards the warrior's den, retiring earlier than she normally did. As she ducked under the overhanging rock, she sensed a pair of eyes on the back of her neck. Turning her head, she just caught Brambleclaw whipping his head in a different direction. In past moons, when things were much more rocky between them, his stare might have angered her. Now, it made her fractionally more cheerful.
Maybe there was some hope for a rekindled friendship yet.
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A/N: I haven't forgotten that other cats were requested; I'm working on them, so don't harp at me because they weren't included in this update. More to come, and again, mention cats you'd like a section on, critisize, praise, etc.