WARMTH radiated from the sun, soaking the earth with a sultry shine that perforated the shadows to oblivion. The air hummed with life; birds sung their morning tune, sweet and soft, while dragonflies buzzed to the beat of the butterfly wings, for they danced in tandem across MarshClan's grassy clearing. Sedgestrike sat in the grass, bathing in the glow of daybreak with a small smile, content. Her heart burned as bright as the sun today, for today MarshClan's warriors would indulge in the festivities of the Blossom Festival; it was a celebration that lasted from sunhigh to moonhigh, for all to attend that so desired. The holiday came once during riverswell, and this would be the first time she could experience it to the fullest in her fourteen moons of living. Her terrors from the night before seemed distant now. She did not allow herself to think about the truth… that there were murderers in MarshClan.
"Good morning," Fernstream mewed. Her voice was muffled, and when Sedgestrike turned to greet her she saw her wreath in her mother's jaws. Fernstream sat Sedgestrike's wreath at her paws, smiling. "I didn't see you in your nest. I wanted to make sure you didn't forget this."
"How could I?" Sedgestrike mumbled, face hot. She carefully drug the wreath close to her by her paw, avoiding Fernstream's stare. She had not spoken to her mother since she fought with Shaleheart, and it made her fur itch to be under her gaze.
"I can see how much you care for her," Fernstream mewed gently, coming to sit beside Sedgestrike. "The way you look at her… it's a very beautiful thing. I'm happy that you found someone."
"Thank you," Sedgestrike mewed. Her tone was remorseful. "I wish Shaleheart felt the same."
"He does, my love, he does. He just… can't come to realize it yet." Fernstream sounded just as remorseful. "He has good intentions, they're just misplaced."
"That's putting it gently…" Sedgestrike grumbled.
"He gets discouraged easily, but he's always wanted the best for you." Fernstream licked Sedgestrike's ear comfortingly. "He will always be your father, and not every father is perfect. Just give him time."
Soothed by her mother's gentle grooming, Sedgestrike nodded. "Okay," she muttered.
"Good luck today," Fernstream purred.
"Wait!" Sedgestrike piped up as her mother rose to walk away. She felt her words catch in her throat as her mother hesitated. Should she tell her about what Redleaf said? Her voice felt garbled as she spoke, for she continued to wrestle with herself. "Redleaf… I… He…"
Fernstream's ears flattened. "We can discuss that later," she mewed tersely. "Now is not the time."
The aromatic scent of fresh-kill alerted Sedgestrike to the morning hunting party's return. Only marsh rabbit and duck would be feasted on today, as per tradition. The meatiest, most delightful delicacies within their territory would be enjoyed by all thanks to the honored efforts of the specially chosen hunters. Sedgestrike's mouth watered at the thought of sinking her fangs into rich rabbit meat. Warriors began to collect around her, also hungry for the celebratory meal.
"MarshClan, gather!" Whitestar yowled from her perch atop Fallen Cypress. Sedgestrike watched as her leader emerged from the cavernous log of the hollowed out cypress. For once, she seemed cheery. Her face was wrinkled with a genuine smile, and her eyes shone without their usual glare. After the Clan assembled, she made her announcement. "Today, we come together to celebrate the Blossom Festival."
Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Whitestar patiently waited for their crows and laughs to dissipate. Sedgestrike joined in, hooting and hollering with the best of them. She received a playful nudge, and she smiled once she noticed Ospreyflight joined her. Her friend was also smiling, but she had a reserved flicker in her eye. She did not join in on the cheering.
"It's been a long, dry rivernarrow, but the rains and warmth have returned, and the plentiful moons of riverswell have blessed us with abundance. Tonight is the second full moon of riverswell—so today, we view the Blossom Festival together." Whitestar smiled as she spoke, and it bled into her words, staining them with a saccharine flavor. "Our sentinels will have a holiday standdown during this sacred time, but border patrols will remain; those that did not wish to participate in the festival have already volunteered for the watch, and will remain behind. Queens and their kits, elders, apprentices, and non-participants shall remain in camp and revel in their own festivities."
Sedgestrike grimaced. She remembered past Blossom Festival's bitterly; she would stay behind and play a few games of moss ball, eat leftover duck or rabbit, and listen to elders tell stories about Blossom Festivals passed and the history of the holiday itself. She only remembered bits and pieces of the story… something about forbidden love and the power of trust. That syrupy sweet kind of tale that only furballs liked. It was obnoxiously dull, and most of the warriors just slept or gossiped the rest of the day. The apprentices would usually make silly accessories out of the colorful duck feathers until they got bored and started roughhousing. She was happy to not have to stay behind this time around. This time, she would get to celebrate the real festival.
She could feel anticipation emanate around her, charging the atmosphere with electricity that sparked against her pelt. Sedgestrike scanned the crowd surrounding her, realizing she towered over most of the surrounding cats. Her face grew hot; she never realized how much she grew since becoming a warrior until now. Finding the blue-gray fur she sought after, her heart melted and she dug her claws into the grass with excitement. Today was the day…
"Warriors participating in the Blossom Festival, assemble by the sawgrass and we will depart north. Please do not dally, we have a hike ahead of us." Whitestar finished her announcement with a quick nod. Leaping from the log, she made her way for the sawgrass.
Sedgestrike watched as the other warriors followed Whitestar. Her heart was put at ease when she saw Blueflower was among them still. She rose to her paws, ready to depart, but hesitated when she noticed Ospreyflight did not budge.
"You're not coming?" Sedgestrike asked, staring at Ospreyflight with concern. "Do you feel ill?"
Ospreyflight winced, slowly shaking her head. "No… I want to stay behind."
Sedgestrike's eyes widened. "But why?" Her heart sank when Ospreyflight shrugged, eyes downcast.
"I don't know… I just don't have a reason to go."
"What do you mean? We can celebrate together! It'll be fun."
Ospreyflight smirked. "But you'll have Blueflower. Wouldn't you want to spend the day with her?"
Sedgestrike hesitated, glancing away from her friend. She felt guilty. All this time she thought she could juggle between the two; she never realized that Ospreyflight may feel left out. "But that shouldn't matter; you can have fun with other cats too. Maybe even find… you know… a mate?"
Realizing she never talked to her friend much about romance, she felt even more guilty. She didn't even know what Ospreyflight liked, or who. Her whiskers drooped.
Ospreyflight laughed softly. "That's the thing… I… I don't know if I want a mate."
"You never know…" Sedgestrike mewed, trying to be hopeful. "You might find someone you like, and it could build to—-"
"I don't think you understand," Ospreyflight mewed, sighing softly. "I don't think I want a mate… ever."
Perplexed, Sedgestrike narrowed her eyes. "You want to be alone?"
"No—no… it's just… Ahhh…" Ospreyflight screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head with a grumble. Sedgestrike felt worse for not understanding. "I don't think I have those feelings…"
"What? Like… love?"
Ospreyflight hesitated. "No, I feel love." She smiled softly. "I feel love, just not the kind that's celebrated during the Blossom Festival."
Sedgestrike's eyes widened, a firefly blinking to life in her head. "Ohhhhh…" She shuffled her paws awkwardly. "I'm sorry… I didn't know."
Ospreyflight shrugged again. "It's not your fault. I never said anything. I just… didn't know how to explain it."
"That's okay."
Her friend smirked, almost apologetically. "Is that… weird?"
"No! No… not at all." Sedgestrike smiled encouragingly. "There's all sorts of love. Just because you feel one and not the other doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. It just means you were born to care for cats in a different way."
Ospreyflight sighed, sounding relieved. "Thanks, Sedgestrike," she murmured.
She nodded. "Of course! You can tell me anything." Hesitating, she gazed at her friend curiously. "Uhm… if you don't mind my asking… how did you know?"
Ospreyflight's expression was thoughtful, and then she smiled whimsically. "I don't know—I guess it just clicked." She shrugged bashfully. "I realized if I ever felt that kind of love for anyone, it would've been you."
Taken back, Sedgestrike felt her face grow hot as her friend gazed tenderly, almost shyly at her. She had never seen Ospreyflight so open or honest until now. She realized in that moment that she loved her, she loved their friendship and the memories they shared. Purring, she touched her head to Ospreyflight's. "I love you," she murmured.
Ospreyflight returned the purr. "I love you too." She butted her head against Sedgestrike's playfully. "Go on and have fun, and good luck, you furball."
Sedgestrike laughed softly. "I need all the luck I can get."
She hurried and picked up her wreath, waving her tail in farewell to her friend as she rushed to join the rest of the warriors preparing to leave. As she looked back, she saw as Ospreyflight got rushed by Magnoliakit and Hawthornkit, probably for a game of moss ball. Her heart warmed when her friend winked her way, her final farewell, before she ran off to entertain the kits.
As Sedgestrike joined the gathered warriors, wreath in tow, she was given encouraging glances and amorous smirks. Few speculated who the wreath was intended for; in their eyes, Sedgestrike could see they knew. She held her head high, not allowing her confidence to wither as the memory of her father's scorn remained fresh in her mind. She tried to replace his disappointment with Batface's reassurance or Fernstream's comfort, but it still stung. Quickly, she flicked her chin up, swinging the wreath up and over her head, turning it into a necklace.
"Warriors, let us embark on the trail blazed by our ancestors! Today, we will revel in our love for our Clanmates, riverswell's bounty, and StarClan!" Whitestar yowled, leading the warriors into the thicket of sawgrass and cane.
Cheers erupted from the gathered cats. Sedgestrike could not help but narrow her eyes as Whitestar proclaimed love for StarClan. She lied so effortlessly. She gazed around at the gathered cats, noting the paragons among them, cheering as loudly as any other. She began to wonder how many of them killed a Fallen. It made her skin crawl.
As they filtered through the wall of grasses as a collective, Sedgestrike stepped carefully, keeping to the rear so she may think in peace. Despite her boundless joy and anticipation for the Blossom Festival, she realized she could not truly celebrate while such a burden stormed overhead. The only way she could discover the truth of the Order's endgame and stop Whitestar and the Place of Eternal Night was to earn their trust. Stepping through the marsh, she noticed the murky water and likened it to her fate and the fate of MarshClan. Whatever lurked in the future was shrouded in a veil of darkness, impermeable and mysterious.
Suddenly, a low, melodious rumble erupted from one of the gathered cats. Sedgestrike looked up to see Grayjaw humming a tune. It sounded vaguely familiar. Grayjaw walked among them now, eyes bright and smile broad, but Sedgestrike could only look at him and see a bloodied, cold face that smirked over Vinestripe's corpse. The sound of the rushing river greeted the mass of cats as they left the marsh and stepped onto the bank. Instead of drowning out the warrior's hum, Sedgestrike noticed that it complimented him, seemingly rumbling with his tune.
Despite her disgust, when Grayjaw continued to hum, Sedgestrike was drawn to the rasping melody of his voice. The haze of mist that rose from the fast-flowing water enshrouded the traveling cats as they walked upriver; the sun shone through the cloud, making it burn silver against the bodies that pushed through. Before long, more, and more of the gathered warriors joined him, humming a tune that erupted into a chorus of song:
When I was a young tom,
maybe seven moons old,
I fell for the fairest of Queens.
She had the bluest eyes I've ever seen,
And she mated with a warrior bold.
I took to the river, I took to the trees,
But I never found what I thought she'd need.
When I was a young tom,
Maybe twelve moons old.
I loved the fairest of Queens.
She had the softest fur I've ever seen,
And hated her warrior bold.
I took to the caves, I took to the seas,
But I never found what I thought she'd need.
When I was a young tom,
Maybe twenty moons old,
I lost the fairest of Queens.
She had the purest spirit I'd ever seen,
Broken by her warrior bold.
I realized I never found what I thought she'd need,
For all that she needed was all I could be.
When I was a dying tom,
Maybe ninety moons old,
I dreamt of the fairest of Queens.
She had the brightest glow I'd ever seen,
And she was free of her warrior bold.
She told me I was always what she thought she'd need,
But her soul was already sold.
I'm not young tom, nor am I old,
But I pray you heed this story of ole.
No matter the strength that love may be,
It withers unless it is told.
You could be the one that they truly need,
Don't lose to the warrior bold.
Don't lose to the warrior bold.
The warrior bold.
By the time the song finished, Sedgestrike caught the tune and was singing along as well. The music was contagious, wafting between the cats like embers, bringing light to their eyes. She felt full of glee, so much so that she no longer had room for her worries within. They were expelled with each lyric.