THE warriors continued to hum as they traveled north, welcomed by a cool breeze. They no longer walked through the mists of the marsh, instead they trekked through a grassy field speckled with trees and swathes of wildflowers. Yellow bled to orange to red to purple, coloring the landscape so brightly, Sedgestrike was left squinting. The earthy tones of the marshland were nonexistent here. Another draft carried with it the faint scent of citrus coupled with the aroma of honey. Sedgestrike's lips twitched as she tasted the sweetness in the air. Though they walked alongside the river that hugged her homeland, as she ventured up against the current, she was greeted by a land unseen. A mystery world that birthed grandiose hardwood trees she had never laid eyes on before and housed strange scents of mysterious flowers she did not recognize.
The rushing river grew more violent the further north they traveled, and broader. Sedgestrike gazed across its length, wondering if it were possible for any cat to have the strength to swim across. The other side of the river mirrored hers, flanked by fields of wildflowers and sparse hardwoods. To think, there was a whole other side MarshClan had not seen.
The sun neared the horizon, descending sluggishly, not wanting to surrender its golden shine; the clouds were cloaked in purple and the birds took shelter in the trees, knowing the sun no longer had the strength to warm their wings. The sun's time was waning, its reign would soon end.
"This is where we leave the river," announced Whitestar. "Keep together. This land is not ours. We must keep to the path carved by our ancestors. Now is not the time to go astray."
Whitestar led the MarshClan cats away from the river. Silence washed over them as the familiar sound of rushing water faded, and they waded through an unfamiliar field, sharing expressions of uncertainty and wonder. Even those that made the journey before were humbled by the distance from homeland. The ground beneath them consisted of tightly packed earth, moist and rich, void of the pungent perfume of peat or the squishy structure of mud. Sedgestrike could dig her toes into the ground without them coming up stuck together.
"It's strange isn't it?" Yewbranch mewed breathlessly. Sedgestrike glances sideways, seeing her sister hungrily drinking in their surrounded with wonder in her verdant eyes. "I never wondered what was outside MarshClan. I never thought there was more."
Sedgestrike said nothing. She stared ahead, unable to find the words to properly describe her feelings. It felt like moons since Yewbranch last spoke to her. When did she even come to walk beside her?
"To think," she continued carefully, "there could be many more worlds besides ours that we've never thought of, or are capable of thinking of."
Sedgestrike's mind immediately went to the Place of Eternal Night. She wondered what Yewbranch would make of that world. She wondered if she already knew. She prayed that she never would.
"It makes me feel small," Yewbranch whispered. She was not gazing at their surroundings anymore. Instead, Sedgestrike followed her sister's eyes and found Blackhawk, trouncing proudly alongside Mothfur and Fogspots. "But also grateful. In a world so big and so strange, I was lucky enough to be surrounded by cats that love me. Some are not so lucky."
Sedgestrike opened her mouth, but words failed her. She resigned to folding her ears in frustration, walking alongside Yewbranch with a remorseful frown. Her sister's words snuck into her chest, slow and smooth and sweet like amber, trapping her heart and petrifying it in a golden prism of goodness that made it so heavy, and so, so full.
"I guess… what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry." Yewbranch's murmur was a touch above a whisper. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I shouldn't have left you. I was just scared."
"I don't want your apology. I just want you to believe me," Sedgestrike asserted. Now that Yewbranch was so close, she could not ignore nor forget how much she wanted her sister back.
"I don't know what to believe, Sedgestrike," Yewbranch admitted. "I just know that I miss you."
Sedgestrike lowered her chin. So much was unveiled to her since the night she first spoke of the prophecy to her siblings. Their destiny only grew more swollen and contorted, like tree roots engorged with water, twisted and full, shoved deep beneath the earth, where the darkness and dirt made everything unclear. "I have so much more to say. What's the point of having you back if I can't share my thoughts with you?"
It was Yewbranch's turn to be silent. The soft thudding of paws against the earth rapped at Sedgestrike's ears, goading more annoying thoughts to usher into her head. The wreath around her neck felt heavy, and her head hung lower.
Before their conversation could continue, the gathered cats slowed to a stop. Sedgestrike peered over the heads of the cats before her, looking beyond the hill they stood upon. Her eyes widened as she gazed across a landscape laden with verdant rivulets neatly streaking across the hills in uniform stripes, separated by naked earth.
"MarshClan," Whitestar addressed the others proudly. "Welcome to the orange groves."
Descending upon the grove, MarshClan crowded between tall, full trees; each cat's expression was that of awe, but none more so than Sedgestrike. Orange blossoms bloomed, full and white, filling the air with a sweet aroma that soaked into Sedgestrike's dark brown fur, intoxicating her with its perfume. The smells of citrus blended with the richness of pollen, which wafted through along the tail of a breeze in a haze of gold. Tantalizing honey dripped from the combs clinging to the surrounding maple trees that hugged the outskirts of the orange grove, crusting against the bark like saccharine frost. Sedgestrike never knew the place of the Blossom Festival would be so impossibly beautiful.
As the cats shuffled deeper into the grove, bees hummed around, a lulling tune that was complimented by gentle birdsong. Sedgestrike walked with the others down a narrow aisle wedged between the orange trees; plump citrus fruits sagged on their branches, causing them to droop. Some oranges littered the verdant grass, having burst upon impact, the earth was stained with sticky sweetness and sweet-smelling flesh. White blossoms unfurled all around them, welcoming the MarshClan cats with broad petals that beckoned them closer.
Whitestar found her place in the heart of the orange grove, where a grassy clearing was just wide enough to host the crowd. "On behalf of our ancestors, I welcome you to the orange groves, home of our sacred Blossom Festival. Please, enjoy the spoils of this sacred land, but take only what you will eat, nothing more. To waste these treasures is a sin."
An excited murmur bubbled from the masses. Sedgestrike found herself pining for a taste of the honeycomb nearby.
"Let us prepare for the festivities!" Whitestar cheered. "Traditionally, she-cats would fetch the water and toms would take to the trees and harvest the honeycomb." Whitestar shrugged. "Do what task you please, so long as it gets done before nightfall. We all need to be together before we begin evening proposals."
As the crowd began to disperse, Sedgestrike could feel Yewbranch lingering by her side. Sedgestrike sighed, pressing against her sister. "You don't have to decide now. Just… promise you will eventually make a decision. Don't leave me to wonder."
Yewbranch's lips trembled, and Sedgestrike was pained to see the hurt in her sister's eyes. They held one another's gaze for what felt like eternity before Palemist and Gingerstep approached them.
"Yewbranch," Palemist beckoned. "Come help us get water." Her icy blue eyes fell on Sedgestrike, narrowing at the sight of her promise wreath. Sedgestrike couldn't read the other she-cat's expression, but she didn't like the way she was staring.
Yewbranch offered Sedgestrike a small smile before joining Palemist. Gingerstep lingered for a moment longer, giving Sedgestrike an apologetic smile. "You can come with us, if you want," she added sheepishly.
"No thanks," Sedgestrike replies stiffly, watching Palemist and her sister leave with a painful twinge in her heart. "I'll, uh, go get the honey."
Awkwardly, she went off on her own, backtracking on the path took to reach the clearing. The dust still felt warm under her toes from the day's sunlight. There was just enough shade to reduce the waning glow of the sun to scarlet blotches that contoured Sedgestrike's features. She could hear voices coming from ahead, and she immediately began to bristle.
"This Blossom Festival is a bust." It was Spiderfang. His voice always held a rind of humor in it that refused to be peeled. "All the she-cats are so subpar."
"Don't you have a mate?" Rumbled Longscar. Unlike Spiderfang, Longscar's voice sounded like he hadn't laughed in moons. Sedgestrike could see the dark gray tabby stalking slowly alongside Spiderfang, tail swaying lazily. "I thought you came out of obligation."
"Sure, sure, but that doesn't mean I can't have any fun. Any of these she-cats would be lucky to have me!" A chuckle escaped him, but Sedgestrike knew he was serious. She rolled her eyes.
"What Juniperheart doesn't know won't hurt her, I suppose," Longscar agreed, sounding bored.
"There's always Palemist." Excitement oozed from Spiderfang's tongue. Sedgestrike wondered if he was drooling. "Now that's a she-cat."
"Oh, please, that prude? I think she just shows up to these things to see how many proposals she can wrack up before she shrivels up in the elders den." Longscar's scathing scoff could cut through boulders.
"Aha! You only say that because she turned you down two festivals ago."
Sedgestrike smiled at the revelation. She took pleasure in Longscar's disappointment. It was well-deserved as far as she was concerned. He was the most disagreeable cat in all of MarshClan.
"Shut up!" Longscar growled.
Spiderfang cackled mockingly. "Don't worry, I'm sure your luck will turn out this year."
Longscar was quiet for awhile, and Sedgestrike strained her ears to listen. She was so wrapped up in making her own promise wreath, she did not even realize Longscar took the time to make one as well. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of the warrior being with anyone. Who could find pleasure in such serious company? A rock was more entertaining, and more softhearted too.
"You think I should go through with it?" Longscar mewed at last.
"Yeah! She will be grateful to get a tom like you. She might be a little feisty—too much so for my taste—but she's a smart match. Much smarter than Egretsong."
"Yeah…" For some reason, Longscar did not sound convinced. Sedgestrike suspected that whoever was receiving Longscar's wreath was not his first choice.
She felt a pang of sympathy for Egretsong as she trailed behind the two tomcats. The warrior remained back in camp, harboring vicious scars that reduced her once sunshine gold eyes to milky, blind orbs. Though Sedgestrike thought the warrior was as beautiful as before, many were put off by her permanently maimed expression, so much so that she refused to come to the Blossom Festival, fearing rejection.
The cause of her scars… the Fallen. Before, Sedgestrike was outraged by their violence. But now that she knew the truth, that they were not truly banished after their trials, but executed in secret, Sedgestrike could understand why they would make such a drastic attempt at escape. Had Egretsong not been blinded, Scorchface and possibly her accomplice, Minnowtail, would've faced certain death. Gazing ahead, Sedgestrike began to wonder how many casualties Spiderfang and Longscar were responsible for. How much blood was on their paws?
Suddenly, a warm breeze fluttered from behind Sedgestrike, and she stiffened. The two cats that were upwind caught her scent almost immediately, and Sedgestrike soon found herself under each of their glares.
"Ah! Well, well, look who's come to join us?" Spiderfang greeted excitedly. "Come, come! Catch up now. Don't leave us waiting."
Sedgestrike hurried obediently, feeling like a kit caught outside the nursery. Longscar's glare was harsh enough to singe her pelt. Now that she was close, she got a good look at the wreath draped around his neck; it was thin and neat, stripped of its ivy leaves and reduced to a tight, green ring.
"How long have you been behind us?" Longscar growled.
Sedgestrike smiled innocently. "Not too long. I only just caught up!"
"Well, I'm glad you did! The more the merrier, right? We can harvest this honey and get on our way licketysplit!" Spiderfang laughed whimsically.
Sedgestrike eyed Spiderfang uneasily. He smiled too much. She never knew what he was really thinking. At least she never had to guess whether Longscar liked her or not.
"I'm glad you'll have me," Sedgestrike mewed politely to her deputy, ignoring Longscar's perpetual glare.
"I see you whipped up that wreath good," Spiderfang observed gushingly. "It looks splendid! I assume it's still for Blueflower?"
"Yes," Sedgestrike answered stiffly. "It is." She did not forget Spiderfang's reaction prior.
Longscar growled, "I suppose Batface taught you how to make it?"
"He did." Sedgestrike kept her answers short as she walked between the two of them. Their drastically different personalities crashed against her like ferocious waves. It would not be long before she was weathered down by the break.
"I bet she will be thrilled! You two are close. I only figured it was a matter of time," Spiderfang mused.
"She's hung around you like a vulture circling a piece of carrion," Longscar added critically.
Sedgestrike bristled. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, Longscar! You and your silly, unimagined comparisons." Spiderfang twittered breezily. His amber eyes held a warning. "Don't mind him, Sedgestrike. He's just tired and cranky from the journey."
"Good excuse," Sedgestrike growled. "Doesn't excuse him from being a prick though."
Longscar grunted, eyeing her as if she really were a piece of carrion, some rotten, stinking flesh.
Spiderfang sighed with relief when they came upon a maple tree. Nestled between the trunk and a low-hanging branch was a hive glistening gold with honey. Sedgestrike's mouth watered at the sight. She only got the pleasure of tasting honey once, when her throat was rendered raw by a bout of whitecough. She never forgot its sweetness.
"Who wants to go first?" Spiderfang chirped.
Longscar did not seem inclined to do anything but glare at Sedgestrike for eternity.
Sedgestrike kicked the grass sheepishly. "I've actually… never harvested any."
Spiderfang perked up. "Okay! That's fine. Watch the master." He sprung onto the tree trunk without hesitation, squirming up its side like a small, black squirrel.
With their deputy gone, Sedgestrike wasted no time in turning on Longscar. She met his glare defiantly. "What's your problem?" she demanded.
"My problem is you, Sedgestrike," he growled.
The scratching of Spiderfang crawling up the tree became louder the higher he scrambled.
"What did I ever do to you?"
"You sneak around. You snap on your Clanmates. You never seem to sleep. What's keeping you up at night, huh? What's eating you?"
Sedgestrike rolled her eyes. "Why do you care? Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?"
"I protect my Clan. I protect my Clan from shifty cats like you."
A loud, buzzing sound arose from the treetops as Spiderfang scrabbles closer to the hive. The buzz was so continuous, Sedgestrike felt it in her brain.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not hiding anything," she rebuked. Inside, however, her body was in turmoil. Does he know? she fretted. What has he seen? What has he heard?
Longscar's breath was hot on her now, he was leaning in on her. "The night I caught you with Blueflower. You were out all night. What were you discussing?"
"Nothing! I went out on my own to try and watch the execution. I got lost. She found me."
"You snuck out with your siblings and Ospreypaw one night. When you all returned, Mudpaw was never the same. What did you say that disturbed him so?"
"I don't know what night you're talking about. My siblings and I would sneak out all the time," she replied sardonically. Her fur was beginning to bristle. Why were the bees buzzing so loudly? Her ears began to twitch.
"Mudpaw should've been the honor graduate. Not you," Longscar hissed. "He was perfect for it, but you stole the opportunity from him when you let Toadpaw die!"
"I didn't—"
Before she could protest, the hive hit the ground with a sopping thud. Gold oozed from the cracks that formed upon impact, glistening and gushing as it soaked the earth. Bees burst from the combs in a buzzing black cloud; the air reverberated with their rage.
Spiderfang lept down with a wide grin from the treetops. "Grab a comb and run!" howled, thrilled by the hum of chaos before them.
Sedgestrike did not need to be told twice. She grabbed a golden chunk from the hive and ran faster than she ever did before, knowing that Longscar would be right behind her. It seemed he had been for the longest time.