Woof, what's a word count? This is… uh, too many words. But I still had a good time writing it! Hit a couple notes of emotion at the end, but mostly funny, I hope.

Accidents happen: A cat dies, but accidentally the cat's spirit was thrown into a newborn kit! During his apprenticeship he goes to find his old friends- but now he has no idea which Clan his loyalties belong to.

"Goodbye, Flashfoot, old friend," he heard his denmate, Carminefleck whisper as the light faded around him. "We'll see you soon."

And Flashfoot, the retired deputy of GroveClan, finally succumbed to the darkness.

…

When he woke up, instead of the sparkling light of StarClan he'd been expecting ever since Frostedleaf told him his chest wouldn't recover, Flashfoot smelled milk.

And the thick, undeniable scent of CliffClan.

"What in StarClan's name?" he yelped, but instead of his rumbly mew, all that came out was a little squeak. He tried again, asking, "Where am I? Hello?" Again, all the noise he made was a little cry.

I sound like… a kit…?

"Aw, look Raincreek, he's announcing himself," a very familiar voice, that of a she-cat, murmured from somewhere near him.

He blinked his cloudy eyes, trying to distinguish anything in his sight beside light and soft fur. Was that… Smokewater?! Flashfoot tried to jump to his paws to square up for battle; if there was one thing he'd learned from his Clan's past clashes with CliffClan, it was that the young deputy was not to mess around with. "Smokewater, what are you doing on GroveClan territory?"

But all came out was more mews.

Oh StarClan, no, what cruel twist of fate is this?

"So sweet; he's going to be the little fighter." This time it was Raincreek's mew, one of GroveClan's most fearsome warriors, his voice soft and cooing. "What shall we name him? Perhaps something for his stripes?"

My stripes?! Then a long, large tail was rolling him over. He squeaked in protest and tried to push himself to his feet, to face this tom that would push him around so carelessly, but his clumsy paws buckled under him and he flopped back onto his belly.

"Definitely a fighter," Smokewater agreed with a purr that rumbled from deep inside her and made Flashfoot's entire body shake with the force of it. "How about Streakkit? Or Bumblekit?"

"I like Bumblekit," Raincreek agreed, his giant fluffy chest appearing in front of Flashfoot's face as the tom bent over to nuzzle his mate. "Or Beekit, maybe?"
"Beekit's a good name. I think he's been trying to fly ever since he was kitted," Smokewater purred as Flashfoot tried to stand once more. "What about the little molly there?'

Flashfoot slid out his tiny claws to grab the nest underfoot in an attempt to right himself and leave this bizarre situation, but his head felt twenty times heavier than normal. Blinking down, peering through the blurry cloud that seemed to have descended on his vision, he saw that his paws, far from being the pale gray they'd been his whole life, were black. What in StarClan's name is going on here?

But whatever energy he'd gotten from the surge of confused adrenaline was waning rapidly, and he felt his head dragging him back down to the soft moss.

Maybe I'll just sleep for a heartbeat… and then I'll wake up in StarClan and everything will be as it's supposed to be.

…

"Your mentor will be Gullstream," Hazelstar announced, touching his head with her muzzle gently. "I hope Gullstream will pass down all she knows to you."

Flashfoot stared off into the distance, ignoring Hazelstar as she continued the ceremony. Another milestone. He'd held onto hope at first, thinking that if only he could learn to speak, then he could explain what was going on, if only he could speak with the medicine cat, Sagescent might understand what had happened…

But that hope had faded as day after day passed, still stuck in the black and white spotted pelt of some tom named Beepaw. Despite Flashfoot's own complicated history, being doted on by the most terrifying warriors that he had wrestled with in battle previously was undoubtedly the strangest thing he'd ever experienced.

"Beepaw! Spottedpaw! Flightpaw!" The Clan's cheers rang out across the CliffClan camp and Flashfoot looked up at the sky where the full moon was shining out from behind the wispy clouds.

I suppose being the deputy's kit has advantages… He'd been assured he would be allowed to go to the Gathering that night, sparking the only joyous reaction that his parents and 'Clanmates' had seen from him.

Finally, I can go back to my Clanmates. My real Clanmates.

…

When he arrived at the Gathering mesa, he bee-lined for the group of blessedly-familiarly scented GroveClanners. Thank StarClan, I can finally fix all this. No more would Sagescent give him herbs he didn't need for his 'insanity', no more would Smokewater and Raincreek laugh nervously when Flashfoot made remarks about Hazelstar's predecessor, Farstar… he would see his old denmates and find some way to get to StarClan.

"I see them! They're right over there!" The rumbly shout from the GroveClan group made Flashfoot's eyes instinctively flicker over, then his jaw dropped open.

It was…

Him?
Impossible.

Despite all logic contradicting it, Flashfoot stared across the flat rock at the tall, broad-shouldered, shaggy-furred pale gray tom with glittering yellow eyes from whom the cry had come. Flashfoot froze, but quickly snapped himself out of the daze and ran over to him.

"Uh- hi, I'm- you're- well, I'm you," Flashfoot explained breathlessly to this tom, his mirror image, who he now realized was standing with Carminefleck and Spiraltail. "I'm Flashfoot."

"You- you are?" Carminefleck asked incredulously, casting her gaze over the lithe apprentice-age tom now claiming to be her elderly best friend. "Then I think we've found your real body, Switch."

Flashfoot's twin's - Switch's - familiar yellow gaze filled with delight. "Finally! So this is what I look like!"

"I'm Beepaw - I mean, you're Beepaw," Flashfoot informed him, putting it together. "So… does this mean our spirits switched bodies somehow?"

Switch shrugged. "I guess so."

"We're pretty sure that's what happened," Spiraltail put in, letting out a mrrow of laughter. "You have no idea how strange it was teaching you to speak."

"As strange as being cuddled every night by an enemy Clan's deputy?" Flashfoot replied, shaking his head. "The past six moons have been absurd."

Carminefleck's amber eyes lost their spark of humour as the reality of the situation set in. "The real question is what do we do now? Is there a way of switching them back?"

"I don't know…" Spiraltail replied. "But we could head to the Moonmist for help; StarClan is responsible for this, mark my words."

Yeah, but if you ask Spiraltail, StarClan is responsible for everything, Flashfoot thought inwardly, but smiled. "I hope so."

"Do I have any siblings?!" Switch - Beepaw? - asked excitedly. "What are Mom and Dad like?"

"In battle or in the nursery?" Flashfoot deadpanned, then replied, "Doting. You'll love them, I'm sure. They'll love having a son that doesn't critique Hazelstar's leadership style in relation to past leaders that he shouldn't remember. And you have two sisters, Flightpaw and Spottedpaw."
"Awesome! I can't wait to meet them!" the elderly apprentice enthused.

"Let's get to the Moonmist," Spiraltail suggested.

"Tonight?" Beepaw in Flashfoot's body asked.

"Why wait?" Carminefleck shrugged, and then glanced at Flashfoot in Beepaw's body and her mouth quirked into a half-smile. "I think Flashfoot might be going crazy. Best to get him back to normal before he snaps and jumps down a CliffClan ravine."

Flashfoot made a grumble in his apprentice throat, the sound embarrassingly high despite his best efforts and sniffed at Carminefleck. She gave him a wry smile and the three elders along with Flashfoot in his apprentice body set off, away from the flat red rock where the rest of the Clan cats had congregated and down toward the opposite side of the mesa that the medicine cats gathered by every half-moon.

The pale vapour that rose from the base of that side of the mesa sparkled in the moonlight, like a diamond turned to mist or a star, disintegrating into dust that was swept away by the cool night breeze. The four of them quickly reached the edge of the rock, the stone underfoot still almost warm from the hot sun beating down on it all day.

Flashfoot gazed out over Peachstar's Waterfall and savoured the view of the hot water crashing onto the world below, rising in Moonmist to greet the Clan cats at the top.

"Well." Spiraltail was the first to break the silence. "I hope StarClan can fix it. Good luck."

Flashfoot nodded, glancing at his old body. Do I want to go back? Of course I'd love to hunt one more time with Spiraltail and Carminefleck… but my time here is done. We'll have all the time in the world to hunt when we get to StarClan.

He leant forward, gripping the rock carefully and breathed in the Moonmist carefully. It brought with it the cool scent of night, water, and the fourth territory, barren. Just as he was observing that the feeling of the mist changed from warm to cool and back again as he breathed it in, his vision began to fade to black around the edges, then it all fuzzed up, and he felt the press of the stone against his shoulders as the world faded.

…

When he woke up, it was to the sound of arguing.

"Well, I told you, it was just unfortunate that he happened to die right when the moon- oh, hush, Flutterpetal, he's awake," a voice snapped. "Flashfoot! Beepaw! StarClan sincerely apologizes for the error."

"I should think so," Flashfoot grunted, then startled with shock as he realized his voice had finally, finally returned to the low rasp he was familiar with. "Oh! At last."

"Yes, yes, we can return your proper forms," the dramatic voice continued, and once Flashfoot's vision had finally cleared, he saw that it was a dappled, pale tortoiseshell with glittering green eyes. "It will take… a certain, er, procedure, however."

"Anything!" Beepaw exclaimed, and Flashfoot felt a certain comfort hearing the voice that was distinctly not his coming from that form that was distinctly not him. The black pelt patterned with white splotches finally looked normal now that Flashfoot was not looking at it in a rippling pool with horror, those amber eyes finally glittering with the proper kit-like glee instead of sombre, too-old sageness.

"Anything," Flashfoot echoed, finally turning back to the ginger and white she-cat that he assumed was Flutterpetal and the dappled tortoiseshell. "But…"

"Excellent!" the dappled tortoiseshell exclaimed. "You will have to jump off the mesa, into Peachstar's Waterfall and when you awaken, you will be back in your bodies."

Beepaw made a noise of excitement, hopping around in a circle as if to test out his form, and Flashfoot sighed. "But… what if-"

"Go now. The time is right," Flutterpetal added.

"Except I-"

Then everything was spiralling away again.

…

When Flashfoot finally, for hopefully the last time, reawoke, the world was still there. StarClan be damned, he thought, I just want to rest…

But once he finally had the chance to look into Carminefleck's eyes and see Spiraltail, he felt a certain peace wash over him. No matter what is on the other side of the waterfall, I will find my way to StarClan and Carminefleck and Spiraltail will join me when the time is right. I can only hope that Beepaw will find his proper body and live out the rest of his days uneventfully and full of joy.

"Are you ready?" Beepaw asked excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. "Let's go, let's go!"

"I'm ready," Flashfoot whispered, glancing first up at the stars, and then back at his denmates that had seen him through every storm and brought him to his last steps, over the mesa. "Let's go."

~Akila