CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The burned scar of RiverClan territory stretched to the right as Fogpaw and the others made their way along the small Thunderpath. She could still smell the pungent scent of the monster, and see the scorch marks from where fire had devoured the bracken. More than anything, she noticed the black oily sheen that coated the small stream trickling alongside the path. It was not just half her Clanmates that had been wiped from the earth in the accident, but the entire territory as well. How could RiverClan hope to live there once more?

Not my problem, she thought. She hardly felt like a RiverClan cat, her emotional connection to the territory wiped clean. She felt a pang of something as she stared at its charred remains, a bittersweet nostalgia, a mourning for a life that could have been but had changed course long before the monster fell.

Her Clanmates, on the other hand… Tawnyfeather nearly began to weep as she saw the decimated corpse of her home. It was only Oaktail's presence that kept her from breaking down. The brown tabby was upset too, though he hid it better than the others. RiverClan's loss was an old wound now. It was the loss of his kits that hit harder, his anguish when Fogpaw had confirmed for him that neither Birdkit nor Marshkit survived.

Hazelthorn too was upset, eyes shining with grief as he looked out over the territory. Grainheart's expression was solemn. He did not talk to Fogpaw; she did not dare to brush against his thoughts and see how he was feeling. Part of her knew she should apologize, but the thought of being vulnerable, of being wrong, was too hard to bear. Not before they returned.

Limepaw and Flowerpelt made idle conversation with the kits, who were being allowed to walk the last stretch. Flowerpelt kept them distracted from RiverClan territory, and she helped guide them across the Thunderpath so they could enter into ShadowClan. Fogpaw followed them over, waiting impatiently on the other side for Hazelthorn, who limped his way across the hot sticky dirt. Berryfang took up the rear of the patrol.

Fogpaw turned and faced ShadowClan territory. The pine trees were enormous, more so than they had ever looked from the border, and the shadows they cast seemed to go on forever. The scent markers caught her off-guard; she had expected the tangy, acrid scent, but instead it was mixed with a familiar, fishy one. The Clan's borders now reflected its occupation by both ShadowClan and RiverClan cats.

Oaktail was vibrating with excitement, overjoyed at the thought of telling the rest of RiverClan that some of their Clanmates were alive. The rest of RiverClan… it was not many cats. Reedthroat would be there. Fogpaw's father. But not her mother, nor her brother Rainpaw. I'll be all he has, she thought, and it frightened her. She couldn't be that to someone.

"Almost there," said Flowerpelt, quickening her step. She turned to look at the patrol, flashing them a smile that found its way to Berryfang. Fogpaw could feel the affection the ShadowClan warrior had for the golden tabby. Just tell him, you mouse-brain, Fogpaw thought. Then she thought of Petra and felt a pang of something akin to shame.

They had just crossed through a thicket of hazel and over a cluster of moss-covered stones when they heard the rustling of bushes that heralded a patrol. Flowerpelt stopped, clearly excited, and Grainheart took a deep breath. The kits all perked up, eyes wide with wonder. Of course; this was a big adventure to them. Yet it was not ShadowClan nor RiverClan scent that accompanied these cats, but a mixture of all four Clans – there was ThunderClan here, and a strong whiff of WindClan as well. Oaktail and Berryfang exchanged nervous looks.

A ThunderClan cat stepped out from the brush. He was a light brown tabby, with a lean build, and narrowed eyes that widened in wonder as he looked at them.

"Why is it always you, Beechclaw?" asked Berryfang, in a tone that bordered on unfriendly.

Beechclaw didn't answer, still gaping at them. Limepaw looked happy to see the ThunderClan tom, and he ran up and pressed himself against Beechclaw's shoulder. Beechclaw made an awkward noise and then placed his tail protectively over Limepaw's back.

"What are you doing here?" Flowerpelt asked.

Another cat emerged behind Beechclaw; a WindClan cat, small, likely an apprentice. "We were hunting," he said mildly, and then clarified: "We moved the camps around. Most of the warriors are in ThunderClan camp because it's closer to where the wraiths are."

"So they're here," said Oaktail, in a low whistle. "It's happening."

Then the brush rustled once more and a third cat stepped out. "Tawnyfeather! Hazelthorn! Fogpaw!" she gasped, rushing forward. "And the kits, and Grainheart, and – " Troutleap stopped, because that was it, that was all the survivors.

"Hi, Troutleap," said Hazelthorn, meekly.

"Hazelthorn, I'm so sorry," she said, on seeing the defeat on his face. Troutleap stepped up and swiped a tongue across his shoulder. "But your kits are well."

Not his kits, thought Fogpaw.

"We know you!" piped up Icekit, running up to Troutleap's paws. "You're a warrior right? In our Clan."

"A queen now. But yes, of RiverClan," Troutleap mewed, in a tone that suggested that was no longer such a thing as 'our Clan'. She smiled at them, though her eyes remained sad. Fogpaw brushed against her thoughts and saw that while Troutleap was excited to see them alive, there was also a finality to it. The hope that there was anyone else who had made it was extinguished. No longer could RiverClan cats pray that loved one was still alive; this was it. The knowing was both blessing and curse.

So many others had died. Patchnose. Morningstep. Goldenfur. Rainpaw. Lilystream. Birdkit. Marshkit. Swampclaw. Gustheart. Crowtooth. RiverClan could finally mourn them.

"Come on," said Beechclaw, impatient. "Let's get you back to camp."

.

They arrived at the outskirts of ShadowClan camp and paused. Something was happening. A large group of cats emerged from the mouth of camp, like water pouring from a stream, only to follow the thorn wall and walk around behind the camp itself. The air was thick with scents of all different Clans. This group was not the only one moving back there, and they were so focused on their task that they did not notice the patrol arriving.

They were carrying a body.

"StarClan," hissed Troutleap.

"Who do you think it is?" whispered the apprentice, Shortpaw.

Fogpaw broke rank and started to follow the cats. She could feel an immense sorrow radiating from them, filling the air, threatening to turn the sky dark. A warrior had been killed, the second casualty in the brewing war against the wraiths. Thoughts such as how did this happen and we need to bring the fight to them and we need to make them pay flowed through the air.

The loudest grief came from a very familiar mind and Fogpaw had to stop, struck by the disparity between the immense vulnerability and sadness, and the cruelty she had previously felt from this mind. This was that mind that had pressed against hers, time and time again, pouring darkness and pain and hate and punishment, ruining her mind, her body, her life.

Yet Fogpaw felt no satisfaction as Willowstar wailed.

Most of the others caught up to her while Hazelthorn and Limepaw took the kits in to camp, and they cautiously moved through the pines and firs until they came upon the funeral. The crowd was mostly made of queens and apprentices and elders. A few warriors were present, two of them hard at work finishing the grave. The body had been placed delicately by the side until it was ready to be buried. It was a white she-cat; Fogpaw recognized her as one of her tormenters, but could not remember the name until she heard it in the whispered thoughts. Frostpool.

She stared at Frostpool, her vision drawn by some unknown force that made her look, really look, really see that once snow-white body, now covered in darkness and blood and pain and the guilt of others. Then her vision shifted, a blur that rolled through her whole body like a static shock, and suddenly she could see under Frostpool, see what was really in there, an extinguished spark that still smouldered, and part of Fogpaw reached toward it and tried to touch it, thinking that if she could just pull hard enough –

Then she was under the lake again and drowning and being left for dead until that piece of throbbing darkness hit her heart like lightning and brought it back to life. If she could spark Frostpool… but as soon as she thought it, it hurt like claws ripping down her stomach, and then the pain tore through her mind, like she was un-becoming, and if she poured herself into this spark then she was going to lose her power, and that was all that made her her, she was nothing else but this shell, and –

She stumbled back, gasping, and bumped right into a set of paws.

"You're back." It was Eaglestar, gazing at them with wonder.

"Eaglestar!" said Flowerpelt excitedly. "We just got back – and then we saw what was happening here – "

He nodded slowly. "The wraiths have been pushing forward. We think they're coming from the Moonpool, so – " The masked tabby stopped himself and sighed. "We can discuss it later. I'm just glad to see that you are all okay, and that RiverClan had more survivors. Is this…"

"There are kits," Oaktail said, in response to the unasked question. "Lilystream and Hazelthorn's kits. They're okay. Hazelthorn took them into camp."

Something flashed in Eaglestar's eyes. He knows, Fogpaw realized. He knows who the father is.

As they spoke to Eaglestar, the rest of the cats at the funeral began to notice that the patrol had returned, regarding them with a mixture of excitement and wariness. Whitestream was there, her shoulder covered by a poultice, but of Reedthroat and Toadstar there was no sign. They were likely at the ThunderClan camp, Fogpaw thought with relief. She couldn't face her father yet.

The warriors stopped their digging to glance up at the newcomers. Eaglestar gestured for them to continue. "Let's honour Frostpool first," he mewed. "We'll catch up with the patrol after. I'm sure they all need a moment to rest, too."

The funeral resumed. Fogpaw took a step back, not looking forward to any sort of questioning about where they had been. She was too exhausted to answer questions about Kingfisher, and the pain in her when she had looked at Frostpool only a moment ago… she shuddered. She wouldn't know how to explain herself to anyone. She glanced over at Grainheart, a bit wary. Had he noticed her distress? What would he say?

Probably something mouse-brained, she thought, but she was unsure.

X

Owlfeather was alive.

Owlfeather was alive but Frostpool was dead.

Sootclaw leapt into action, throwing himself toward the wraith before it could finish the job. It turned to meet him and they bowled over into the bushes, thorns snagging at his pelt. The smoky black fangs snapped at his throat. He managed to hold them away, digging his claws into the wraith's smoky mass. The wraith took on the form of a cat and Sootclaw found himself staring at a ragged grey tabby, who hissed angrily and kicked his hind paws into Sootclaw's stomach. Sootclaw staggered back and they got up, facing each other.

Behind him, Owlfeather was crying out. He was injured. Bleeding. Frostpool was yelling Sootclaw's name. Then the scent of darkness got stronger. It clogged Sootclaw's mouth and nose, pulling him down toward the ground. The grey tabby leapt at Sootclaw again and they wrestled, Sootclaw pushed to the edge of his ability to even keep up in the fight. How could the wraith be so strong? But as the grey tabby attacked, claws always just inches away from slicing open Sootclaw's skin, it became clear he wasn't trying to maim Sootclaw. He was just keeping him distracted.

Frostpool was still yelling Sootclaw's name, but her voice was gurgled. Owlfeather let out a distressed yowl. Sootclaw could scent fear and blood and darkness. The grey tabby disengaged from the fight, taking a step back from Sootclaw. He grinned – and then he was gone.

Sootclaw turned back to see Owlfeather, his leg mangled and bleeding, staring down at Frostpool, who lay in a bloody mess on the ground. Her throat was ripped and her eyes glossy as she gurgled, blood oozing from the lacerated strips. Owlfeather glanced over at Sootclaw, his eyes full of anguish. Defeat. The unbearable pain of seeing not just one, but two, cats killed by the wraiths.

His eyes didn't accuse Sootclaw. But they didn't need to. The depths of their sorrow was enough.

Sootclaw didn't go to the funeral. He couldn't.

Owlfeather's yowl. Frostpool's gurgle. They haunted Sootclaw's every waking moment. It's my fault. If only he had acted sooner. If he hadn't been paralyzed by Thistleclaw's comment, Frostpool would be alive. He would have saved Owlfeather and then Owlfeather and Frostpool could have fought back against the wraiths. Instead, Owlfeather was seriously injured, and Frostpool -

It was Sootclaw's fault and he couldn't honour her, not when he couldn't look at her body without overwhelming guilt. I belong in the Dark Forest, he thought bitterly.

So when Beechclaw – stupid Beechclaw – came down the path into ThunderClan camp, Sootclaw was prepared to defend his decision not to attend. Instead, Beechclaw went straight to the leader's den, and his cry was loud enough to alert the entire camp. "Slatestar. Toadstar. It's the patrol, they're back!"

Toadstar's head popped out immediately. "Beechclaw! Did they find survivors?"

Sootclaw's heart thudded as he got to his paws, nearly unable to breathe. There had to be survivors, he told himself. The patrol had been gone for so long... they must have been chasing something. The leaders and medicine cats had been desperate to see RiverClan cats in dreams, but with StarClan having to avoid sending any signs... there was no way of knowing who had lived and died. Until right now.

"Tawnyfeather. Grainheart. Fogpaw," said Beechclaw. "And Hazelthorn, and his kits."

.

Sootclaw couldn't run to ShadowClan camp fast enough. It was a miracle he didn't crash into a tree or trip over a root and break his ankle. No one had stopped him as he dashed from ThunderClan camp, leaving far ahead of Toadstar and the others. No one interrupted him now as he nearly leapt over the border clearing and hurtled through the thick coniferous forest. He was almost at ShadowClan camp by the time he ran out of breath. A chilling thought struck him and made him stop dead in his tracks.

I don't deserve to see them.

Not after what he had done. Not after the death he had caused. And it had all been based on a lie. Thistleclaw had never had his kits. Unless… unless he accepted Frostpool as a sacrifice instead. Unless I still did as he asked.

No. No. He couldn't believe that. The patrol would have returned any way. Sootclaw did not betray them.

So Frostpool died for nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut. If only he could talk to Dawncloud about this. But she was gone, had left him adrift. It was what he deserved. He had blocked her out; it was only fair that she had left him. And she was right, in the end, to have been concerned…

He would talk to her upon her return, and they would settle everything. But for now…

His kits. Icekit, Cricketkit, Thornkit. Would they remember him? Would Toadstar allow him to tell them the truth? Would he become important to them, or just a passing ShadowClan warrior? He couldn't bear to be unimportant in their life. But after what he had done – and who he was, Falconswoop's son – maybe they shouldn't know him at all.

The anguish ate at him, but he knew that no matter what, he had to see them. They were his, and all he had left of Lilystream. Lilystream. He couldn't think about her right now; it was too hard. So he took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders back up, and headed into camp.

.

Sootclaw padded through the thorn tangles and onto the thick loam of ShadowClan camp. A few cats looked up at him as he approached; others were sharing tongues, their heads down in mourning. He hardly processed any of them, his eyes scanning the clearing for smaller figures. One white, one brown, one tortoiseshell. His heart thudded against his ribs as it tried to escape and find them itself.

"Hey, Sootclaw!" Pigeonflight bounded across the clearing upon seeing his former mentor. The tom's fur was stuck in tufts as always, but his eyes were solemn, and so his appearance was without its usual comedic effect. Still, Pigeonflight was doing his best to kept a cheerful tone, even though they both knew why Sootclaw had returned.

"Where are they?" Sootclaw asked, not bothering with pleasantries. Pigeonflight was alive, uninjured, untainted by darkness. That was about as good as anyone could be right now.

"Kitetail is assessing them in the medicine cat's den," said Pigeonflight, knowing immediately. Sootclaw moved through the camp with determined strides, while Pigeonflight followed reluctantly at his shoulder. "But, um, don't you think you should talk to Toadstar or Eaglestar first?"

"I've been waiting moons," Sootclaw managed to say, his voice a lot more convinced than he felt. "I have to know if they're okay."

Inside, his stomach was turning on itself. He was nervous to see Kitetail. He also didn't want to Kitetail to know that the kits were his, not yet. What would Kitetail think? Still, at least it wasn't Birchcloud tending to them. The grey tabby still rubbed him the wrong way. There are more important things to think about, Sootclaw told himself.

Sootclaw hesitated a moment outside the den, remembering the fox attack that had placed him here many moons ago, when Dawncloud's mind had joined his in order to save him. He had been so cruel to Kitetail then. I won't be cruel now, he told himself. Despite what happened.

He poked his head inside, and his heart nearly stopped.

They were there, and alive, and so big, and so perfect, and they smelled like her.

Icekit, the largest, looking like an apprentice with his broad shoulders and sleek white fur. Cricketkit, gangly, lounging in a moss nest. Thornkit, eyes like fire, squirming as Kitetail examined her. Sootclaw gaped at them. Pigeonflight entered the den behind him, pressing his tail to Sootclaw's flank, a silent declaration of support.

His kits. Alive. Beautiful. He thought back to that night in the snow, meeting them for the first time, letting them tumble over his paws. Then the next time, when they had not come, only Lilystream telling him – he winced and looked aside, and that was when he saw Hazelthorn sitting in the corner of the medicine cat's den.

Hazelthorn glanced at him. The RiverClan tom looked so small and frail, his forepaw twisted, that Sootclaw couldn't be angry at him. But he was certainly envious. The fake father… I should have been there with the kits, Sootclaw thought. It should have been me, protecting them.

"Hey!" said Icekit, seeing Sootclaw for the first time. He puffed out his chest, as if to protect his siblings from the new threat. "Who are you?"

Cricketkit glanced up and cocked his head. "You look familiar."

"I'm Sootclaw," said Sootclaw, stupidly.

Thornkit finally managed to escape Kitetail, and she leapt over to Sootclaw, looking him over with narrowed eyes. "That sounds familiar."

Behind her, Kitetail looked up and met Sootclaw's eyes. Sootclaw's heart lurched. "Hey," said the medicine cat, in a quiet voice. He looked extremely tired; his eyes heavy, his shoulders slumped forward. "Did you need something?"

Sootclaw didn't answer. The lump in his throat was holding all the words down. He hadn't thought this far ahead – what was he supposed to do? Declare to the kits that he was their father? Expect them all to become a happy family?

"Let's give Sootclaw and Kitetail some space," Hazelthorn told the kits, smiling softly at them. His eyes were filled with so much love that Sootclaw immediately felt jealous. But he couldn't say anything as they left with their pretend-father, the kits pressing close to Hazelthorn's legs. Pigeonflight mumbled something about needing to hunt, a transparent excuse, and then he was gone from Sootclaw's side too.

It was just Sootclaw and his brother in the den.

Kitetail met his eyes. "Cricketkit," he said. "He looks just like our mother."

Sootclaw could have said a few things there, such as I hadn't noticed or strange coincidence or If you say so. Instead he just nodded. "Yes."

"Sootclaw, what did you do?"

He was tempted to snap at him, to say Kitetail had given up his claim to knowing, but all the spite in him had died along with Frostpool. He sighed. "Eaglestar and Toadstar know. It's complicated. How are the kits?"

"Physically? They're doing great. Strong, healthy. Well-fed over the last few moons. Hazelthorn said they were staying with some cats in the Twolegplace. Well. Held prisoner. The ShadowClan patrol rescued them."

"They were prisoners?"

"It's a long story," Kitetail mewed. "I don't have all the details, really. Eaglestar was debriefing the survivors."

Sootclaw nodded, then paused. "Thanks, Kitetail."

Kitetail smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course."

.

Sootclaw left the den and immediately found himself face-to-face with Toadstar, who had just arrived from ThunderClan camp along with Reedthroat and Cherrytail. The black-and-brown tom paused upon seeing Sootclaw, and then approached him. Sootclaw took a few steps to the side of camp, leading Toadstar to a small space between the dens where they could speak in private.

"Did you see them?" asked Toadstar.

Sootclaw nodded. "They're so big now… I don't know what to do."

"They think Hazelthorn is their father," stated Toadstar. His tone was sympathetic. He had always been kind to Sootclaw, perhaps more so than Sootclaw deserved. He had allowed Sootclaw to stay in RiverClan, had listened to him about the mind-link, had treated him with kindness after the crash… Once, Sootclaw would have seen it as weakness. Now he was grateful.

"Do I tell them?" Sootclaw asked, realizing he was looking not just for Toadstar's permission, but his guidance as well. It was sometimes easy to forget that they were still from separate Clans. Even if he told the kits now, what if they had to leave again, and become enemy warriors? Maybe they could stay in ShadowClan, but Toadstar was their grand-father, and Hazelthorn basically a father to them. Would they want to stay?

"It's your decision, Sootclaw," Toadstar said. "But if you tell them, you need to be prepared for whatever their reaction is. If they want you in their life. If they don't."

Sootclaw sighed, and squeezed his eyes shut. "How come you aren't angrier about this?"

Toadstar chuckled at that. It was a bleak sound. "I love her too, Sootclaw. When my mate died, it felt like Lilykit - Lilystream - became my whole world. I couldn't imagine not being allowed to be her father. I thought losing her would kill me."

They sat in silence for a moment, Toadstar's words bubbling in Sootclaw's chest until the pain and emotion became overwhelming and he said the words he had been too scared to even acknowledge. He had thought it before, deep down, but he had always held on to a little flicker of hope. Now… "But we did lose her in the end, didn't we? Lilystream's dead."

"Yes," said Toadstar, and he sighed ruefully. "And yet we're still alive."

There was another moment of silence where Sootclaw just listened to both of them breathe, in and out, steady and constant and unshakeable proof that they were alive. He let himself feel the sadness in his heart, heavy and thick like mist, and he allowed himself to let it go. Something cold stung his nose. Then another drop hit his shoulder, and then his paws, and then the sky opened fully and the rain crashed down, like StarClan was grieving with them.

The rain ran through his pelt and it picked up the sadness, the grief, the loss, took it from his heart and down through his paws and to the ground, where the tiny streams of rainwater carried it far, far away, and into the earth.

X X X

A/N: Oh this was a long one, and sad, too. Makes me wish I was putting song lyrics into chapters (I was listening to 'Tallest Man on Earth - The Running Styles of New York' when I was writing the last scene). Sootclaw needed his moment of catharsis, and hopefully angsty Sootclaw is done (I know, I keep saying that), though he has one more revelation to go before the end. I'm excited to have Fogpaw back in the Clans and to have you see her from other POVs. It's also such a trope at this point to have Beechclaw be the one on patrols finding people, so I had to throw him in here.

Next chapter will be the Tribe patrol returning... according to my outline there are about 11 more chapters, though it really doesn't feel like that much. I'm very excited! The plot has come a long way since I was originally writing and hopefully everything will tie together wonderfully. Redoing the end also gave me an idea for a sequel (set very far in the future). So, you know, look forward to that in five or so years, haha.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)