Chapter 7

Poppypaw

The moonstone was glimmering brilliantly before his eyes. Bush's flanks had stopped moving, before starting up again with a soft growl in his sleep. The blood that had pooled around the tom had stopped growing larger, making him positive that they had made it in time. Or he at least hoped so since the tom's flanks were still moving. Blinking slowly, he glanced to the moonstone and felt his fur rise in panic. The image of a shadowy cat had appeared, following it was a white she-cat that nearly blended into the brilliance of the stone, and last of all a silvery cat had appeared. He blinked and the vision was replaced with red silk glittering along the stone's surface, the moonstone glowing brighter and brighter as vision after vision filled his mind. His body growing rigid as he dug his claws into the stones beneath them as he saw so many visions he wondered where it truly came from.

The last vision cut through him like a claw. Somewhere, in a place he had never seen but could only imagine, a spotted cat was struggling in rain-heavy rapids, brilliant orange eyes wide, deep gouges of claw marks through their pelt as they tried desperately to escape. Only to be thrown against rocks and stones that jutted from the riverbed, the roar of the waterfall growing louder and louder. Just as the drenched cat's unconscious body was about to be flung over the falls, he snapped out of it in shock. He was panting, finally able to take an unsteady step towards Bush. Slowly, he began to lick the blood out of the soon-to-be leader's fur. Would it truly be the last vision or was it just the beginning of a darkness he could barely begin to fathom. Would he be alive for the last vision or would he be long gone by then? He wasn't sure; all he knew was he had to look after Bush no matter what.

Just as he was finishing up, Bush opened his eyes. They were dark with an anger he had never seen before. They weren't cold, but just looking into them made his fur crawl with unease. He sat up and spoke gently. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" He snapped, padding past him. "Let's just go home, who knows if Cedar is smart enough to stay away while wounded."

Poppypaw nodded, "Very well. Did they give you your lives?"

"They did, but I don't know if I could ever believe that it will work." He grumbled.

"It should. If you die, you will only lose one of your lives. Look, your chest and throat are already healed." He pointed out.

"I only was given eight lives, so how could I ever know if it worked?" He replied back. "I only doubt until I know for certain."

Poppypaw became quiet, looking away as though hurt. "We'll see, Bushstar." He mewed at last, padding away.

The reddish-brown tom stopped in his tracks, a low hiss growing louder and louder from him before he snarled. "Do not call me that!"

"As long as they have given you the ceremony, that is the name you now carry." Poppypaw flashed back, looking to the tom. "Do you think I wanted to change my name? No. Do you think they gave me anymore of a choice? Hardly! So you can't tell me what I can't or can call you, Bushstar. Under these stars, this is who we are now whether you like it or not. You are a leader and now it's time for you to act like one."

Bushstar stood his ground, his fluffy tail swaying from side to side with aggression. "Then do not call me that in front of the others. You can teach them whatever the stars say, if that is what you want to do. They don't have to know my name changed because of you bringing me here."

"If they think like you do, it would be best." He pointed out curtly, he knew he shouldn't feel this stung by Bushstar's words. However, he also knew that someone had to lead the group spiritually to heal from the disaster that was loosing lives and unborn kits. "I suppose we walk different paths in the end."

"Haven't we always?" The tom reminded him.

The dark ginger tom glanced to Bushstar, his heart filling sympathy. "Perhaps, StarClan made a mistake."

"How so?"

"A cat who does not believe in the stars becomes leader and an old cat trying to become a healer. It sounds like a mistake, don't you think?" He mewed bleakly.

The reddish-brown tom simply looked away, a step forward as he sank his neck into his shoulders as though shrugging. "Who knows. It feels wrong to go against what we have been taught." He admitted.

"As true as it is, I find comfort in it." Poppypaw blinked, leading the way back through the sparse undergrowth. "All the lives we will lose along the way to peace, they will at least be in a much better place than here, where so much anger and hate will spill their blood."

The tom had grown silent, so much so, he spared a glance to him. Their amber eyes met and, for a heartbeat, he realized that the younger tom had never thought of the comfort it would bring the others to know their loved ones would have somewhere to see them again. A comfort that their fragment-upbringing could never provide. A comfort that would do far more healing than anything Poppypaw could do with plants. At last, a serene calm filled the darkness in Bushstar's eyes as he stepped up beside him.

"I never considered that it could bring comfort." He murmured.

The dark ginger tom blinked warmly. "What I have that you don't is knowing what others would like to hear. Kits like to hear the idea they may find their families again when they lose track of them. Young cats who lose their kits like to think that there is always another time to be a mother, but for those who cannot be comforted like that, we now have StarClan. The place where they will not only find family they lost, but also find the kits who waited for their mothers and fathers and friends. What a cat would want to hear is the hope that there is even a seed of truth in seeing someone they miss again. That is what made Clan-cats more powerful than any other cat we ever known."

"Memories don't seem that powerful." Bushstar admitted, "But it's those memories that cause us to spill blood and other vile things. So, why not use it for the good of others."

He nodded. "No matter how dark times are right now, I will give them a reason to think positive thoughts and find the comfort they need with whatever I can provide. You just try to provide them comfort in feeling safe. That's all I can ask for."

Bushstar became quite, lost in thought as it seemed, while he nodded. His ears twitching as they approached the thunderpath. At least, even if it was all a mistake, some cats would find happiness and comfort. Anything to hide from the darkness that was now releasing it's many ripples through their small group. Carefully, the two toms made their way across the thunderpath and back home. The dawn's light cresting over the hills and into the makeshift camp they had nestled themselves into. However, the usual golden light appeared scarlet to Poppypaw, making the fur along his spine stand on end. Bushstar began to move faster and faster, as a sense of horror filled his thudding heart.

Just beneath the growing breeze, the vicious yowls and snarls sent them sprinting through the rest of the moorland. Poppypaw couldn't remember when he was racing towards camp, but he didn't think much of it anymore. He had to make it back to check on Mint and Leaf and the rest of the group. They were left in Night's care, but none of them had time to recover from the attack yesterday. His blood felt as though it was made of leafbare-cold river-water as he burst through the thorns of the gorse bushes that protected the camp. Cats were fighting tooth and claw near where they kits were kept together. His stomach dropped in the realization on why. Brindle hadn't fought the day before and now she was fighting like her life depended on it.

Bushstar was still on his side as they tried to fight through the walls of cats, their eyes flashing dangerously as he realized with a sickening twist in his stomach on what they were doing. The night he returned from a half-moon meeting at the moonstone, Brindle had her kits and kept them tucked as far from the entrance of the tunnel as possible. Now, she was fighting at the entrance all alone. Desperate to keep the kits safe like any good queen would, but she was heavily outnumbered and all the other cats were fending off the weaker ones to prevent any other cat from interfering. Furious, Poppypaw fought harder and harder, slashing the other cats before a well placed blow snags into his shoulder, making him screech in horrible pain.

Poppypaw quickly fell back, his amber eyes wide in horror as Brindle is dragged away from the den and cats slip in and out, bundles of fur in their jaws. All too small to be Leaf, before his heart sank at the familiar size that was Jagged. She struggled blindly, her yellow eyes wide in terror, but it was too late. Six cats held onto their bundles of terrified kits, only one holding onto a three moon-old one who was paralyzed by her scruff being held onto. Her eyes searching the cats who were too weakened from the battle before to save them this instant. In the corner of his amber gaze, Bushstar had leaped onto the stone pillar, his own amber eyes blazing furiously.

"How dare you take what isn't yours! This has nothing to do with any of you strangers!" He yowled, his own pelt dripping precious blood.

The one at the head of the group, a brown she-cat looked back with her nicked ears twitching. "We saw a kit-thief, so we have come to rescue that kit and make a stand against kit-thieves!"

"She is my kit." Bushstar snarled. "If I wish to take her, I can take her!"

"Kits belong with their mother and their mother only!" The she-cat spat, "That is the order of the park!"

"That order has no meaning here." He hissed, crouching as he began to prepare to leap the great distance to the she-cat. "Especially if you are being kit-thieves yourselves with five extra kits!"

The she-cat blinked coolly. "The mother of the largest kit told us to take all the kits with hers. If you wish to have them back alive, then give up Bush. Take too long and you will be getting them back, when they are done with them."

Poppypaw could feel the tension in the air, crackling like lightning, as the cats filed out seeming to know that they were too weak to truly fight them off. Brindle was left on her side, wailing loudly as she struggled to pull herself onto her paws to go after her kits. Tangle, her mate, went to her side to try and help her. The dark ginger tom looked to his leader, begging silently that he knew what could be done now. Everything was falling apart before they could even try to fix any of it. It was clear that this was all his fault, but Poppypaw felt he couldn't blame him. Any cat who felt cornered would react with a dark intention, would they not? Yet, no matter how much he wanted to believe that to be true, in his heart he knew it was far from it.

Besides Bushstar having caused a violent reaction from Cedar, there was no telling how any other cat would have truly acted in this situation. He was more then likely trying to lie to himself that it was not really his fault. With a soft sigh, Poppypaw knew that they needed time to heal and plan. He trusted their leader to be able to protect them, even if it may not last for much longer. The reddish-brown tom looked over each cat, his amber eyes seeming blank and cold, but the dark ginger tom could see the way they flickered over every cat with an actual thought.

"We need time to heal." He meowed at last. "I will take full responsibility. Once you are all healed enough, begin scouting that forest that encroaches on the moors. If it's empty like I suspect it to be, the rest of you will go there and hide away. This is my fault, I waited for you all to make a decision on your own, so I will do it for you now. I appoint Night as deputy and head of the forest exploration. The healthiest cats will go with her only, the rest of you will remain here until the investigation is finished. Once it is, you all will move there as soon as the kits are back in your care. Stay here for three sunrises and then move on."

"After all you have done, what makes you think this will save us all?" Dapple countered. "They could have a spy and they just heard everything!"

"After the forest, do whatever you wish. Disappear into Twoleg Place or run farther away from here. I don't care what you do, just stay together and be safe." Bushstar answered, his mew sounding defeated. "I should have stopped all of this two moons ago, but I thought you would leave before anything like this could happen. I was naive to think so. Thus, whoever Night decides to take me to the River-Fragment to be left behind while the kits are taken away, I will want to be remembered as heroes."

Poppypaw rose to his paws, limping forward. "How long should we wait?"

"Do whatever you can Poppy." His mew hesitated, creating a flutter in Poppypaw's belly from the excitement of knowing it was because his name was now incomplete. "This is the only way for me to atone for the wrong doings I have done. I will atone it all alone and stay here in the camp no matter what. May the stars be in our favor."

"The stars?" The night-black she-cat inquired. "What do the stars have anything to do with it?"

"Poppy took me to a place where the stars came and spoke to me." Bushstar began. "They took the shapes of cats covered in frost that sparkled in their pelts. Those eight cats passed on the knowledge of the Clan-cats from long before most of us were born. They promised me lives to use for leading, but I believe they gave me these lives so I may atone for eight lifetimes for the wrongs I have committed. They speak to Poppy and gave him the knowledge to heal."

"Clan-cats have done nothing good for any of us!" Night started, her tail lashing so furiously, it was thumping the hard-packed earth.

"That isn't true!" Ginger spoke up. "They gave Poppy the ability to heal our wounds. That is something good!"

"Plants are for prey, not predators like ourselves!" Night argued.

Poppypaw looked the she-cats over, before asking. "Night, did you not let me use plants on your wounds?"

"Well, yes, I did." She grumbled, looking away. "But I never ate any like she had."

"And Brindle ate some so her kitting could go well, correct?"

"What of it?" Night growled, her yellow eyes glaring to Poppy.

Poppypaw blinked slowly. "Does that make them any less of a cat if it helped them?" Silence met his words, so he went on. "They ate them because they trusted me that it would help them. The evidence is here, they are doing better than they would if they never did. Just as your wounds would have all been infected by now if I hadn't been treating them like the stars told me to."

"Poppy will take care of all of you." Bushstar went on. "I accepted the lives from the stars, thus they call me Bushstar. It's up to you on whether or not you want to accept or call us by the names the stars gave us. But if you stay wherever Poppy is, then you must accept whatever treatments he may give you. The stars gave me lives to use for leading, but I will use them as my own punishment. If I survive whatever horrors Cedar has planned for me, then you judge for yourselves if the stars we speak of are truly there."

"StarClan is a comforting place." Poppypaw added in, "Use them for comfort of knowing you will see dead loved ones again if you must. Or don't believe in them at all. I won't take offense. I just want to keep every cat healthy so I never have to see loved ones tell others a heartbreaking goodbye again when sickness comes."

Night looked to the other cats, before looking back to Poppypaw and Bushstar. "Very well. I don't like it or believe it myself, but whatever. Beggars can't be choosers after overstaying our welcome in the first place. The moment Mint, Tangle, Pigeon, and Twilight are healthy enough I will lead them into the forest to check it out. If it's cleared out, then it will be an upgrade from living here in the open, that's for sure."

"Poppypaw, get to work on healing any open wounds and save me for last. I'm sure Cedar won't be as heartless as I was moons ago. IF she is, then we will know soon enough." He growled.

"And you know that for certain?" Poppypaw asked.

"Call it an intuition from one hurt cat to another." He mewed darkly, looking away from the sunrise, his shadow seeming to swallow the whole camp.

Poppypaw blinked, watching as the shadow grew and grew, every cat checking on one another with quiet murmurings. Clearly unaware of the shadow that engulfed everything around them, including themselves. It was an omen, a sign of shadows, that much he as sure. Bushstar was going to leave his shadow over these cats and Poppypaw was not sure if it was a good or bad omen. Swallowing thickly, he began to check over cats, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this wasn't right. His paws shaking as he worked, his gaze going back to the tom who sat still, almost unmoving as he twitched his ears every so often to the sounds around him. A darkness was coming and whether the shadow Bushstar left behind were good or bad, they would never know for sure.

Author Note:

Can anyone make a guess on what the sign Poppypaw sees means?

Also, while writing this I was just coming out of having a head cold, I was feeling really like I needed to write, so I did this as a good comeback for myself. Not the most I have written, but I'm still calling it here before I fill it with whatever fever-thoughts I might have.

I know I don't update consistently, but that's because of grief being a strange thing. I'm doing my best still to move on and it's hard to. Life is still strange without my dad in it, but I will keep fighting to heal and update.

Thank you for reading and may you all have a fantastic day/evening/morning/night! - NightSky