I get a teensie bit graphic in this one, just a warning if you don't like burns!


Chapter 27

The smell of wet ash was almost welcoming in the late afternoon. The bitter odor meant that the fires had died with the rain.

"It has to be over now," Tinyclaw resolved. Graystripe shifted beside him in the reeds, his thick pelt damp. "We can go and see if it's safe for the Clan to return."

"And look for Yellowfang and Halftail," Graystripe added.

That was the real reason for Tinyclaw's restlessness – Graystripe knew him too well. Tinyclaw blinked at him with gratitude for his understanding.

"I'll have to ask Crookedstar if I can go," Graystripe reminded him.

"Of course," Tinyclaw replied, trying to hide his momentary shock. In the thick of this reunion, he'd almost forgotten that Graystripe was a RiverClan cat. I missed him far more than I realized, I guess.

Graystripe was already up and heading down the slope. "I'll be right back," he tossed over his shoulder.

Tinyclaw pushed himself to his haunches and stretched. The wetness clinging to his fur made his muscles feel cold and creaky, like he were some elder. When warmth returned, he looked down the slope at his Clan, huddled in patches in the reed beds. His eyes caught Sandstorm with Dustpelt and Cinderpelt, and then he spotted Whitestorm with Tigerstar.

The white warrior seemed to be shielding Tigerstar from the troubled thoughts that plagued him. Tinyclaw frowned. Was the Clan beginning to see how their leader was suffering? Whitestorm and Tinyclaw couldn't keep it secret forever. Whitestorm's presence seemed to give Tigerstar the strength he needed, though, and Tinyclaw could never deny that the two were far closer than just old friends.

"Tinyclaw?" Cloudpaw's voice broke through Tinyclaw's thoughts. The ginger-and-white she-cat was padding towards him. There was still soot staining her fur. "Are you going back to camp now?"

"Graystripe and I are going to check," Tinyclaw meowed, "but we're not entirely certain all the fires are out. It might be too dangerous for a large group to go."

He anticipated his apprentice's desire to come along, and tried to counter it. Still she tried, though lacking her old defiance: "I would listen to everything you said."

"Then stay and take care of the Clan," Tinyclaw told her. "Whitestorm will need your help while I'm gone." He paused, and then asked, "How are the other apprentices?"

Cloudpaw blinked. "They're all scared and upset. I'm trying to keep them cheered up but it's hard. Ashpaw wants to change his name after all this… and I don't blame him."

"Nor do I," Tinyclaw sighed. "Their grief will pass – let them know that we'll be back in our territory as soon as we can be, and that we'll need every paw available to help rebuild. A great honor, if you ask me."

Cloudpaw looked skeptical at all the implied work ahead, but she didn't say anything about it. "I will," she said. "Thanks, Tinyclaw."

"Tell Whitestorm I'll be back by moonrise," Tinyclaw meowed.

Cloudpaw nodded and turned away, heading down the slope to Whitestorm's position. Tinyclaw watched after her, feeling pride overcome his anxieties. She was trying so hard, stifling her pride to serve her Clan. Like a true warrior.

Still, he hoped she'd follow his orders.

A moment later Graystripe wove through the reeds, Crookedstar's bulk padding behind him. Tinyclaw straightened his whiskers to meet the RiverClan leader. Crookedstar blinked at Tinyclaw. "Graystripe says that you want him to go with you over the river. Can you not take one of your own warriors?"

"I don't want to go alone," Tinyclaw admitted. "We lost two Clanmates in the fire, and…"

"I understand," Crookedstar meowed, nodding. "I wouldn't want to find them alone, either. Graystripe may go with you."

"Thank you, Crookedstar," Tinyclaw meowed gratefully. He dipped his head.

Graystripe led the way to the river. Tinyclaw felt as if he were looking into an entirely different forest – across the flowing waters, the forest was a blackened, charred contrast to where he was now. The fire had scorched everything, leaving almost nothing untouched but for the barest branches at the top of the tallest trees. There, leaves still managed to cling. But everywhere else? The forest was gone.

Tinyclaw's heart ached to look at it. Was this wasteland really his home? It all felt like such a horrible nightmare. StarClan knew he wished it was.

There was no speech as they slipped into the river and made their way across. The rains had swollen the river, bringing it back from the drought that had swallowed most of it. Graystripe paddled strongly, and Tinyclaw did his best to keep up – but he wasn't a RiverClan cat. No doubt that Graystripe had received special training to swim like they did. As they climbed onto the opposite bank the two could do nothing but stand there, dripping, staring at the remains of their homeland.

"This is…" Graystripe whimpered quietly. "Oh Tinyclaw… seeing the forest from across the river… was my only tie to home from there."

"I know," Tinyclaw breathed. Graystripe had his mate and his kits but it was clear he felt homesickness deep in his heart. There seemed to be no way to take the love for the forest out of a ThunderClan warrior's heart.

Graystripe charged over the border eagerly, and Tinyclaw followed. The gray warrior added a scent mark to the border – but Tinyclaw wondered if he was thinking about strengthening RiverClan's border… or ThunderClan's.

As they padded through the changed landscape, Graystripe seemed to have no fear – driven more by his homesickness than anything else. He sniffed every tree or bush they passed, weaving through the ashes and twigs that remained in the blackened forest. Tinyclaw, however, couldn't see anything but the forest has it had been – lush and green and safe, now black and ashen and foreboding. The gound was sticky underpaw, and the raindrops that dripped from the remains of the trees were cold and made Tinyclaw shiver.

A lone bird called bravely in the distance. Tinyclaw's heart ached from the loss. Would the prey return to the forest after this? Will ThunderClan be able to survive?

At last they reached the ravine. Below the camp was completely exposed, the thick greenery that had obscured it from view burned away to nothingness. Tinyclaw swallowed. Only the Highrock remained unchanged – dens were burned away and the earth was scorched black, but the Highrock was only covered by a thin layer of wet ash.

Tinyclaw bolted down the ravine, leaping the charred remains of what was once a tree. The bush where Mistykit had cowered was nothing but a charred stump. He searched frantically for the gorse tunnel that served as the Clan's entrance; but there was nothing but thin, brittle sticks left. They caught in his fur as he pushed his way through.

The camp was stained with smoke, the grass dead and burned and the dens nothing but brittle stems. The nursery had suffered the least – its thickly-woven stems looked more forbidding without the leaves. The ravine walls that had sheltered ThunderClan for seasons upon seasons were scorched black. Tinyclaw's heart pounded in his ears as he took it all in, the glory of the camp before this moment flashing in his eyes rapidly.

Graystripe's nudge brought him out of the panic. Tinyclaw, breathing heavily, followed Graystripe's muzzle as he pointed towards the medicine cat's den. The protective lichen and ferns had been burned away, leaving the secluded area unnaturally exposed. Tinyclaw could see the split stone where Yellowfang slept from where he stood.

Halftail lay by the former fern tunnel, his body thin and blackened by smoke. Tinyclaw gagged – the poor elder had been stripped almost furless by the flames, his flesh twisted in horrible ways. Yellowfang must have been trying to drag him to her den, where the flames might not reach. Graystripe swallowed his own bile at the sight.

"I'll bury him," Graystripe meowed solemnly. "Look for Yellowfang."

Tinyclaw only nodded absently. His legs were locked with dread even after Graystripe had dragged Halftail's blackened body out into the forest. Time seemed to stop as he stared into the medicine cat's den, the tunnel itself flexing in his vision until it seemed like an insurmountable distance.

This is why I came back, he thought, his throat dry. But I didn't expect… oh, StarClan…

He had to force his stiff legs to take him into the fern tunnel. Without the greenery sheltering it, the area seemed even more oppressive. Tinyclaw's fear of small spaces seemed to make it feel like the walls were closing in, pulsing with the beat of his heart. Each stiff step seemed to be an eternity, until he was in the medicine cat's clearing proper.

"Y-Yellowfang?" he called, his voice cracked and hoarse.

He stared at the medicine cat's den. The cracked rock was blackened with soot but beneath the smell of it Tinyclaw could detect Yellowfang's familiar scent. "Yellowfang?" he asked, more strongly. He could smell her… she was at least that much alive.

From inside the cave came a low rasp. Someone trying to call out – Yellowfang! Tinyclaw's heart leapt with hope as he plunged into the shadowy cavern…

… only to be filled with despair as he saw her.

Yellowfang was huddled in her nest, her breathing slow and ragged. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Tinyclaw could see her better – her orange eyes were half-closed, reddened with smoke. Her pelt was darkened by soot and patched. She had been burned, too, especially on her paws. They looked so small and twisted without her thick layer of fur covering them. Her wheezing intensified as she spotted him in the gloom.

"Tinyclaw…?" she rasped.

"Yes," Tinyclaw meowed, voice breaking. "Yes, yes! It's me, Yellowfang." He rushed to her side, pressing himself close to her. She'd been burned by the flames but she was so cold…

"I'm glad… it was you," Yellowfang mewled. She trembled with every breath, every word. "I wanted to… see you again."

Tinyclaw pinned his eyes to hers, but it seemed like she couldn't see him – at least, not well. The smoke must have damaged her eyes as well as he lungs. Tinyclaw felt claws sink into his heart. No, not this. No.

"I… I left you," Tinyclaw whimpered. He shook from ears to tail. "I shouldn't have. Oh Yellowfang, I'm so sorry…"

"Stop that," Yellowfang rasped strongly. "This instant, you…" she broke into a fit of coughing. "You mouse-brain. Did you save… Patchpelt?"

"No," Tinyclaw meowed. It felt somewhat good to be scolded by her, even though she was dying. "He breathed in too much smoke."

"Halftail, too," Yellowfang admitted.

Tinyclaw sighed. At least Halftail hadn't felt the flames.

Yellowfang shuddered with grief and pain. Tinyclaw said quickly, "We saved Mistykit, though!"

"Good," Yellowfang breathed. Her eyelids twitched. She couldn't blink. "That little kit… watch her, Tinyclaw… She's not her mother's daughter. She never… will be."

Tinyclaw swallowed. Had Yellowfang seen something of this fate, of Mistykit's future? He knew he wouldn't be able to learn of it if she did.

Yellowfang coughed again, drawing in a hoarse, grating breath before going on: "I don't have much time, Tinyclaw – please, listen to me." Tinyclaw leaned into her fur. "You're a brave warrior. I could not be prouder of you if you were my own son… and StarClan knows that I… that I often wished you were, instead of… Brokentail."

Tinyclaw pressed closer to her as she spoke. Medicine cats were forbidden to have kits, but Yellowfang had fallen in love with Raggedstar, one of ShadowClan's former leaders. Their only surviving son, Brokentail, had led a cruel, tyrannical reign – exiling his own mother to die for crimes he'd pinned on her. And when Brokentail had been sheltered by ThunderClan as a prisoner, and revealed to have worked with Bluefur…

"I killed him," Yellowfang rasped. "I fed him deathberries, and rid the forest of his dark heart. I wanted him to die… I wanted no other cat to suffer by his paws…"

"Yellowfang," Tinyclaw offered, "please… calm down… Let me find you some water."

"Water will do me no good, Tinyclaw," Yellowfang snapped. "You know that. I… Ah… I know that. Let me bear my soul before I die."

Tinyclaw didn't bother protesting. The grim reality of Yellowfang's death was settling on his shoulders. How could it not? What would ever ease her pain now but to speak her mind? It hurt, oh did it hurt, like claws piercing his heart – but it wasn't to be changed. Not everything could be changed.

Her eyes softened, though they didn't focus on him. "I'm not afraid to die, Tinyclaw," she breathed raggedly. "I will face my judgment in StarClan, same as… any other cat. And if darkness awaits me… then so be it.

"I wished with all my heart that you were my son… but that could not be. I could not have borne a cat like you. StarClan gave me Brokentail to teach… teach me a lesson."

"Why?" Tinyclaw breathed, voice thick with emotion. "What lesson could you have to learn? You fell in love and made a mistake – StarClan sending you Brokentail punishes the whole forest, not just you."

"Ah… see…" Yellowfang breathed. "There is the lesson. Our actions have consequences, Tinyclaw… One tiny action can… affect the entire forest. It can change everything." Now her eyes focused on him, intensely. Her words rang through his mind. "You will do great things, Tinyclaw… feel no guilt for my death. My fate is my own."

"Yellowfang…" Tinyclaw voice squeaked like a kit's.

"Take care of ThunderClan," she whispered. "Or I'll find you and box… your ears. Mouse-brain…"

Tinyclaw trembled. "No, Yellowfang. Please…" Don't go, he cried inwardly. Yellowfang…

"Thank you, Tinyclaw," Yellowfang rasped. Her eyes twitched, and then shut. "Thank you for bringing me here… giving me a home. I…"

"It's all right," Tinyclaw meowed quietly. He ran his tongue along her fur, lapping it gently, pouring all his love for the old she-cat into the gesture. His actions wouldn't keep her in the forest any longer, but he had no other way of showing his appreciation for her. "StarClan will forgive you, Yellowfang. They'll see all the good you've done…"

Words tumbled out of his mouth, stories of Yellowfang's great deeds as ThunderClan's medicine cat and as his friend. Even before he was done, Yellowfang's body had stilled – but the words kept coming, to carry her to StarClan.

When the warmth had faded from her body, Tinyclaw gently closed her eyes. "And Yellowfang…?" his voice was hoarse from talking, but the sadness was gone. "I never knew my mother for long… kittypets don't get to spend much time with their mothers before they're given to other Twolegs."

He swallowed. "Trust me, please… I wouldn't want to have any other cat for a mother. I'm so glad you were there.

"Thank you, Yellowfang. For everything."