Broad. Shouldered. Brown. Tabby.

Reminder that there may be elements that conflict with canon, as I am using my own AU universe for these ficlets! Some terms may be different too, such as she-cat being replaced with the term "molly", which is the proper counterpart to the canonically used "tom" which refers to male cats. Despite all that, and hopefully even in favour of it, I hope you enjoy a chapter of reminiscence!

—Laika

"Goldenflower and Tigerclaw interacting before anyone knew he was a traitor"

Goldenflower never thought she would fall back into routine.

It was amazing to watch the clan gradually return to normal, day after day. No longer did her clanmates fear going far out on patrols, and no longer did apprentices and kittens press close to their mothers in fear of a looming threat, of dog teeth and rogue claws. There was a set of new apprentices who had been born after the battle, who knew not of Tigerstar or of Scourge, and watching them, Goldenflower would have never known there was a battle at all.

In the first moon to follow, there was a lingering sense of unity at the Gathering. Every clan was still distinctly its own, but their warriors had all flanked each other in battle and it was not something that would be forgotten so soon. Even after cats had returned to bickering and butting heads, it was harmless. It was peaceful. No one was ready to give that up again.

From her den, Goldenflower watched Firestar's young daughter, Squirrelkit, tease and bat at her fellow denmate. She was a lively little thing, with thick red fur that reminded Goldenflower of the kitten's grandfather, but with the nosiness of her father and brazenness of her mother when she was young. The black-furred tom and target of Squirrelkit's heckling, Spiderkit, bristled and spat something that Goldenflower could not make out from across camp and began to chase her down the ravine.

In that moment, as black and red fur zipped past her, dread gripped Goldenflower's belly like a hungry set of teeth. Dappletail, laying a few lengths away from her, yowled something at the young cats but it didn't register. Without a word to her denmates, Goldenflower got to her paws and stepped out of camp.

Deeper into the woods, the smell of oaks and black cherries swaddled her, curling into her fur and buffeting against her whiskers. There was the taste of mouse on the breeze, but Goldenflower could not bring herself to stalk it. Her legs were on an old, once trodden path and step-by-step they would not divert.

Her golden fur brushed against various ferns and wildflowers as she walked, the same that had been there since she was an apprentice, traipsing across the territory for the first time with her late littermate and friends. Nostalgically, she leaned into the tendrils until the winding roots of a familiar red maple came into view. The tree's massive, gnarly roots stuck out of the ground, worn with claw marks of young Thunderclan cats who had jumped and climbed them in moons past.

Silently, Goldenflower sat among the roots, pressing her brow against the tree trunk like it was an old friend.

"I win!" Goldenflower trilled, her claws digging into the maple roots to keep her steady. "Those big paws of yours might be good for keeping rogues off our territory, but I have never seen a warrior run like that! Should I speak to Bluestar and arrange to call you Badgerstep?" She lifted her tail as the lumbering tabby caught up. Tigerclaw's dark, shaggy coat bounced with each leap, and promptly she found herself distracted by it.

"You wouldn't dare," he growled, short of breath, but the rumble in his throat was pleasant. Nothing about him was hostile, from his smooth, brown coat to the playful twinkle in his eyes. Even the stoicism that so plagued him when he was amongst his peers was absent, either on a Shadowclan border patrol or conferring with Bluestar and Redtail. It was her Tigerclaw that was here with her now, the one who indulged her in these chases across Thunderclan's territory, even though he knew she would win. She always won.

"Wouldn't I?" she mewed coyly, bounding onto a taller root, putting more distance between them. Just as she had hoped, Tigerclaw followed, stepping onto the wide, twisting roots of the tree in pursuit. Goldenflower felt a little like a young apprentice, and a little like a squirrel. Most warriors she knew were not playing the same games as she and Tigerclaw were. Brindleface and Frostfur had always spoken about their toms' attempts to woo them with some sort of… sophistication that had been so far missing in Goldenflower's life.

There was a time when she thought that she and Patchpelt were treading the same path together. He was a handsome tom, some moons older than her with cloud-white fur and storm-black spots. He was intelligent and pragmatic, easily lost in the crowd but interesting and beautiful in his own right. Just as she thought that things were coming to a head, however, a clanmate announced she was pregnant with his kits. Goldenflower had felt like a fool for moons to follow. Not only had she been clearly misconstruing signals from Patchpelt, but she thought she had lost her one shot at having a mate and family, and didn't understand what she might have done to mess it up. The scariest part was not knowing.

It was a while after that she noticed so long as they were in the same part of their territory, Tigerclaw always found his way to her side.

She didn't understand it at first, and didn't pay it much mind. Tigerclaw had grown up around two beautiful mollies, the sisters Frostfur and Brindleface. It was the same with Bluestar and Snowfur in their generation. Goldenflower never caught anyone's eye the same way that they had, and instead resigned herself to her duties and tried to think little of it. The adoration for kittens and their well-being that had sparked early on and earned her the suffix, unfortunately, made that a challenge.

Broad-shouldered and good-looking, she thought Tigerclaw's interests would lie elsewhere than a forgettable molly like herself, but he was here and it was reassuring, at least.

Tigerclaw leapt up to meet her suddenly, nose-to-nose, balancing precariously with paws between her own. Goldenflower reeled up in surprise and with a single bound, flew over the large tom's head and back onto the forest floor. With a mischievous twitch of her ear, she crouched and bolted in between the winding tree roots as he hurried after her.

He was spirited and kept up now with ease, but his long-furred coat picked up much more debris than she had ever before considered with her own short, pale golden fur before. With another few well-timed jumps, she wound up peering at him from above. His fur had collected an assortment of fallen leaves and samaras, all poking out between different strands of brown and black hairs.

"Well, the good news is that Hedgehogfur would also suit you just fine if Badgerstep bothers you so much!"

"Bluestar would never go for that one," Tigerclaw entertained her, but licked some of the litter off his shoulder. "Doesn't even sound good." After a swift grooming, he lifted his amber gaze to meet hers, his concentration on her so intense that she did forget for a moment that she was not his quarry. "I think you'll find my name suits me quite well."

Her own footing blundering as he sprung towards her (the reason, she felt, that she had not earned -tail at her ceremony), he wrapped his forelegs around her as they tumbled off and through the roots. When she felt her hind paw hit the ground below them, she pushed down with all the strength in her legs, sending them somersaulting into the witch alders. The shrub rustled around them, small white petals falling onto Goldenflower's back as she pressed Tigerclaw, belly-up, into the dirt.

She was no stranger to Tigerclaw's prowess; she knew that if he wanted to, with a swift kick to the stomach he could send her reeling off of him. But he laid beneath her without complaint, without any stiffness in his muscles or resentment to be seen. He was a prideful tom who came from, inarguably, the most important and influential lineage that Thunderclan had ever known. A champion in battle, his facial scars were evidence of his courage, his tenacity, his unwillingness to lose and to never back down from a fight.

In battle, she had never seen him submit to anyone. An enemy warrior in her position would have hooked claws at her neck in an instant, and Goldenflower had seen him easily and shamelessly triumph over his clanmates during friendly spars with his dangerous claws sheathed.

No one else knew how soft his fur could be, how it tapered to a light brown like the spore-bearing frond of a cinnamon fern. She squinted her yellow eyes at him and purred.

"Out-maneuevered," he said, hushedly as if he was confessing a well-protected secret. "I underestimated how strong you are once again, Goldenflower."

Warmth spread through her ears, pinkening the tips.

"You say that every time, Tigerclaw. Do you repress your losses so quickly?" she mewed, tail curling behind her confidently.

He shook his head. "This does not feel like losing." He stretched his large paws forwards until her jaw was caught gently between rough, black pads. "I forget your strength so that you may feel the need to show me again. You may best me as many times as there are stars, and I would consider it a gift."

At once, she batted at his nose and jumped off of him swiftly. No tom had ever spoken to her in such a way before him. Certainly, she adored it, but she had yet to figure out how to take it in stride. For now, she was too flustered, and all she could do was swat at him for his brassiness.

Swiftly, too, could she fall into a pit of wondering what it was exactly he saw in her. Tigerclaw spoke highly of her strength, and Goldenflower knew that she was not only taller than most of the mollies in their clan, but definitely more muscular. Her mother, Speckletail, towered above the other queens, and her father had been easy to catch in a crowd, even when not atop the Highrock.

Behind her, Tigerclaw let out a disappointed chuff and rolled onto his side.

She allowed herself to glance at him only once before beginning to vigorously groom her flank in an attempt to cover up her bashfulness, but she could hear his heavy tail batting at the ground, dragging slowly against the grass.

She tried to ignore it.

"Something bothers you," he noted in a voice that became more comfortable as he joined her side.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Nothing bothers me," she turned away, but when she said it, it felt like the truth. Her mother had taught her from a young age to be as solid as a rock for those around her, and so she was. When her father died, when Patchpelt rebuffed her, through everything else, she stayed strong. She had assisted the queens in the nursery and made close allies out of the warriors and apprentices she had helped rear, bonds that would not have been so strong if she had not been so passionate about the clan's youth. She was a pillar of support for them.

But, she didn't feel lovely. She was a fierce warrior, she definitely knew her strengths and knew she was an asset to the clan, but for moons she believed that was where her role ended. And it was fine, but selfishly, she couldn't help but pine for more.

Tigerclaw was still young; where did their interests meet, outside of romps in the forest and flights of fancy? Was she simply a way to pass the time, until someone else came along?

"Nothing but when your nest clumps to one side while you sleep, or when your brother stretches at night and his tail tickles your nose."

She blinked. These were small things that she had innocuously complained about… why, she couldn't even remember how long ago.

"Your mind has been half with me, half elsewhere. You think too much, Goldenflower."

Her tail slapped against the ground.

"About your denmates," Tigerclaw quickly corrected himself. "On the dawn patrol, when Frostfur had to take your place in that warren because the tunnels became too narrow, your fur was prickling until sun-high."

Goldenflower whirled to meet his adoring, amber stare. He sat unfazed.

"She may have gotten to the rabbit, but she never would have been able to drag it back to camp."

"You brought it back to camp," she pointed out. She had only been a little embarrassed at the time, but she liked where this was going.

"I had nothing else to offer," he dismissed. "I'm no hunter. You brought down two squirrels on the way back, and squared off against that little fox who sought to take them. Frostfur didn't. Frostfur ran."

"I don't want you to speak poorly of her," Goldenflower interrupted sternly, but couldn't fight the twitch of her whiskers.

"I didn't mean it like that. She's a decent warrior, but you are forgetting that you're an even better one." He pressed his chin softly against her ear.

"I don't know about that…" She lowered her head and leaned into his gentle touch, unable to control the purr that rumbled from her chest.

"Do you really admire me for my strength?"

Goldenflower had always been blunt, something she felt she had also learned from her mother. She wanted honesty now. It was easy to get wrapped up in the moment, and for as powerful as Tigerclaw was, his compliments could have been dripping in sarcasm with this time. She had gone too long thinking Patchpelt reciprocated her interest, after all, so what did she know?

"I admire you for many things… but yes, I do like it. I would not take a mate with any less moxie than you, and you are… overabundant."

"Mate?" she echoed. Her heart fluttered.

"You're surprised," he realised flatly.

"I've watched toms pursue other mollies my whole life," she mewed, her voice uncharacteristically small. "I thought something might be wrong with me. You are an extremely capable young tom with a bright future. Son of Pinestar, practically adopted by Bluestar, you could have anything and anyone."

Tigerclaw's intensity was palpable. "Then let me have you, Goldenflower."

Her ears burned, she might have dunked her head in water had any streams been nearby. An evening in puerile name-calling had not ended the way she had imagined. He seemed to take her silence as a suggestion to continue.

"I would like to see ourselves as elders one day, our kittens as fine warriors, and a bright future for their own. I want you by my side when I become deputy. If you'd have me."

"If!" Goldenflower mrrowed, and knocked her head so hard against his shoulder she almost toppled him. "To imagine I would mother Badgerstep's kittens!"

Tigerclaw snorted, and she burrowed her face into his neck fur. She hadn't even realised how much it felt like she had been carrying the weight of six rabbits on her back until it was lifted off of her.

"That would make me very happy. You are a strange tom, Tigerclaw. Hopefully they will inherit my grace."

"Yes, if they should be so lucky, Wobblestep."

She pushed her forepaws against him until he was forced to get to his paws to steady himself. "That's not even a real name! I was going to let you name one of the kittens, but now you can't."

She could feel Tigerclaw roll his eyes, but the tom said nothing, resting his chin on the top of her head. Purring into his shoulder, Goldenflower looked up at the pleasant, baby blue sky as a flock of sooty-feathered swifts flew by, high up above them. With sunlight warming her coat and validity strengthening her heart, she could see already just how wonderful their lives were going to be.

"Goldenflower?"

The old molly was curled into a ball by the base of the tree trunk, protected by the maple's wild roots. Upon hearing her name, only her ear flicked in response. She needn't look up to see who it was. She would recognise the presence of her last surviving son anywhere.

"It's sunset. Have you been here all day?" Bramblepaw mewed and she could catch the worry in his voice that he tried so hard to protect. Guilt ran through Goldenflower's coat like a colony of ants, and she brought herself to her paws at once. He had already been through so much in his young life, she didn't want to trouble him with her memories.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice still heavy with somnolence. The tabby apprentice approached her cautiously, his expression taut with concern. "I'm fine," Goldenflower ascertained, and gave the young tom a few swift licks to his cheek. She almost had to lean up to groom him now, he had gotten so tall.

You look so much like your father, she wanted to say, but could not. He, nor anyone else, would take it as a compliment. The good memories of Tigerstar had died in everyone else. They were wounded in her, defaced by his betrayal and courtship with Leopardstar, and pillaged by the death of their son.

She had been so furious with him. The cat he had become was absolutely vile, and she never would have taken him as a mate if she had seen sooner what he was capable of. More than anything, she was miserable at how it had split their family, and affected the way that some of their own clanmates viewed them. She would never forgive him, but she couldn't forget the good she had seen once. It had been just as real as everything else.

She could not help but imagine what their lives could have been like if he hadn't chosen such a dark path, or wonder if there was something she could have done to stop him. The dogs would not have taken Swiftpaw, Tawnypaw would have stayed in Thunderclan.

But it was what it was, and she did not mean to be ungrateful of Bramblepaw. For as difficult as her life had been at times, she still had her memories, and she still had her son.

"Let's go back to camp," he suggested, but it was a plea. "Firestar and I caught a squirrel earlier—probably the fattest one I've ever seen. Let's share it."

"I would like that," she purred. "So long as the kittens have already eaten."

Goldenflower butted her head against his shoulder affectionately and they walked shoulder-to-shoulder back towards camp. Bramblepaw was her pride and joy, and like her mother had once taught her, she would resume being his rock.