Molly: slang term for a she-cat, typically used when referring to a she-cat who has been with a lot of toms.
Lion: slang term for a tom that has relations with many she-cats.
Plus, look at the end of each chapter for some fun facts about the story!
CHAPTER 1
"Let all cats old enough to swim gather for a clan meeting!" a large, dark gray tom cat yowled from his position at the highest point of the hill. He glanced down into the marshy clearing with pride glimmering in his eyes.
Pikepaw was the first cat out, his heart thumping excitedly in his chest. He was so wound up that he felt the unshakeable urge to stand and pace rapidly in circles, and his breath was already ragged with pure delight. Today was the day he became a warrior!
RiverClan cats flooded towards the center of the clearing from their dens and the sun-warmed rocks just outside of camp. The entire space was packed in only a matter of seconds. Fallowstar, the gray tabby leader, and also Pikepaw's father, silenced the crowd with a flick of his tail. Pikepaw felt his claws scraping the ground in anticipation. His sister, Frostpaw, had quietly taken a seat next to him, her fur neatly groomed. Pikepaw curiously wondered how she was able to keep so still, but his attention shifted back to the front of the clearing as Fallowstar began:
"It has come to my attention that two young cats were assessed today. Birdbelly, Rainstep, do you believe that Pikepaw and Frostpaw have successfully completed their assessments and are ready to become full RiverClan warriors?"
Birdbelly, a brown tabby she-cat nodded her head to her leader, sending Pikepaw a warm glance. Rainstep, RiverClan's deputy, did the same.
"Very well," the tall tom leader continued, "I, Fallowstar, leader of RiverClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these two apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn. Pikepaw, Frostpaw, do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code, and protect and defend your clan even at the cost of your life?"
Pikepaw's chest swelled even more, and his hackles stood on end as he cried, "I do!"
Frostpaw's response was more collected, but joy glittered in her amber eyes as she repeated her brother.
Fallowstar looked down at his kin with fondness, "Then by the powers of StarClan, I grant each of you your warrior names. From this day forward, Pikepaw, you shall be known as Piketail. StarClan honors your loyalty and willingness. Frostpaw, from this day forward, you shall be known as Frostpetal. StarClan honors your patience and skill. RiverClan welcomes you both as full warriors!"
"Piketail, Frostpetal! Piketail, Frostpetal!" the clan cheered as Fallowstar touched noses to his children's foreheads.
Piketail's tail curled eagerly. The shouts of his clan mates filled his ears until the only thing he could think was the sound of his new name being called over and over again. Now, all he had to do was sit the stupid vigil, and, once dawn broke tomorrow morning, he could do whatever he wanted. His clan mates pressed in around him and his sister, congratulating them both, the echoes of their voices pulling Piketail into decadent oblivion.
Rainstep dismissed the two new warriors from their vigil just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Piketail was exhausted, his body running only on the fumes of his incorrigible self-indulgence. He was, after all, the son of Fallowstar, great leader of RiverClan, and a skilled fighter. He liked to think of himself as the jock amongst the toms, a real alpha male. His gray, striped pelt rippled over broad shoulders and muscular flanks. He had sleek, well-groomed fur, pointed ears, and he was a very strong swimmer, even for a RiverClan cat. His voice was rich and masculine, and he had deep copper eyes like leaves in Leaf-fall that had undoubtedly captured the hearts of many she-cats already. At least, that's how he viewed himself.
He found himself padding habitually toward the apprentice's den when he remembered that he was a warrior now. He bent down to sniff something on the ground, to make his obvious mistake hopefully less noticeable. Not that any cat was really around besides Rainstep, who was organizing a patrol consisting of Pale-eye, Goldenpatch, and Hailpaw. Bumbling into the warrior's den, Piketail found an empty nest on the outside edge next to his friend Swallowstorm, and flopped loudly into it, sending up a tiny puff of sand and dust. Curling his tail over his nose, sleep came almost instantly.
It seemed like only minutes when Piketail was woken up by a soft blow to the shoulder. He glared blearily up at the face of Prickleclaw, a senior warrior.
"You're wanted for a border patrol. Bring Acornwhisker with you," the big ginger tabby growled.
Piketail felt his hackles begin to rise at the hostile tone in Prickleclaw's voice. He was a warrior now; the others didn't just get to boss him around like they did when he was an apprentice. However, Prickleclaw was renowned for not tolerating any nonsense, and though Piketail desperately wanted to sleep until dawn the next day, he forced himself not to argue.
Prickleclaw left the reedy hollow of the warrior's den leaving Piketail to nudge another close friend of his, Acornwhisker, but the brown tabby opened his eyes before Piketail got the chance.
"No worries, I heard him. Best not to keep them waiting," the level-headed tom smiled, flicking Piketail on the ear with his chestnut-colored tail. Both toms clambered out of the den, the sun blinding Piketail as he emerged, causing him to blink rapidly. Prickleclaw and Lynxfur stood waiting near the camp entrance for the two younger warriors. Prickleclaw's tail lashed impatiently, but Lynxfur seemed calm enough.
Without a word, Prickleclaw led them out of the camp and across the river, towards the boundary with ShadowClan. Before they could get to the border, Piketail silenced everyone with a hiss.
"I smell a water vole nearby. Everybody give me some space."
He was already in a hunter's crouch when Prickleclaw cuffed him roughly over the ear.
"You've only been a warrior for a day," the ginger tabby growled, showing his pointed teeth, "This is a border patrol and I'm the leader of it. Get back in line! Since you're so keen to hunt, I'll make sure Rainstep sends you out on a solo hunting trip when we get back."
Furious from Prickleclaw's stinging words, Piketail bristled and stuck out his tongue childishly when the older warrior wasn't looking.
"Prickleclaw's just looking for a reason to tell you off," Acornwhisker whispered into his friend's ear, "I'll go hunting with you later."
Though few in RiverClan would admit it, prey was scarce, even with the approach of New-leaf. The river hadn't risen much in its banks, and though it was completely thawed, the lake wasn't teeming with fish as it usually was by this time. Piketail's suggestion was a valid one, but he had been too pushy about it. Many cats seemed to think he was loud-mouthed and arrogant. He saw himself as proud maybe, but never arrogant. Who wouldn't be proud to be the son of a great leader in a strong clan?
The ShadowClan border came within sight of the RiverClan cats. They quickly marked the boundaries and were about to return to camp when a snarky meow stopped them in their tracks.
"Well, well, well, the little fishies are running back home already. They must be scared," a scrawny black tom mocked from just across the border. He was a warrior named Slicktail, and with him were another warrior, Redfire, and an apprentice, Hawkpaw. Slicktail was infamous for causing problems at the border, and even though he'd been reported by both ThunderClan and RiverClan for being an upstart, ShadowClan did nothing about it, nor did they apologize for his behavior.
Piketail felt his anger welling up once again. Slicktail saw this and decided to directly attack him.
"Hey, if it isn't little…whatsyername…Fishiepaw, right?" he snickered, "Momma was right on the dot when she named you that."
Piketail sped towards the border, his claws stretched ready to strike the insolent ShadowClan tom, when he was hit in the side by a massive force. Prickleclaw had head butted him so hard, he caused the smaller tom to gasp for breath.
"You ought to spend another moon in the apprentice's den!" the RiverClan warrior snarled in Piketail's face, "Get up, we're going home."
Prickleclaw grabbed the dejected Piketail by the scruff and dragged him to his feet.
"Hee hee, little Fishiepaw is in trouble," Slicktail guffawed behind them, his laugh ringing in Piketail's ears like thunder.
Piketail's mother was long dead. She died before he even got to know her, when he and his sister were still kits. The joke about his momma struck a sour note in him, but he shouldn't have been so brash. Of course, in Piketail's mind, the only thing he could see was Slicktail pleading for life beneath his claws. Slicktail was nothing but dirt to him-he was sure that he could beat the mangy ShadowClan warrior any day. But, hanging from the jaws of Prickleclaw, he was going nowhere.
It had all happened so quickly. Piketail was still feeling dazed and angry when Prickleclaw dropped him unceremoniously next to the river. The huge ginger tabby flicked his tail for Acornwhisker and Lynxfur to take their leave. Both toms padded away, Acornwhisker shooting Piketail a sympathetic glance, while Lynxfur turned his head and sneezed nervously into his shoulder. Piketail was in for a telling off, and he wasn't the only one who knew.
Once the other two warriors were gone, Prickleclaw turned and faced the young warrior.
"Being a warrior doesn't mean your training is over," the large tom cat hissed, "You continue to learn day by day. Apprenticeship only taught you the basics. Having my sister as your mentor, I'm sure she taught you that."
Piketail was still a bit huffy about the older warrior injuring his pride, but he was forced to agree. Birdbelly always gave him wise advice. He nodded before Prickleclaw continued.
"You made both me and your clan look foolish today by caving into the bait Slicktail provided you. As you should know, some cats are unruly and cruel. They look for any chance to prove to you how weak you really are—
"He insulted my mother, my heritage!" Piketail interjected.
"Blood isn't everything!" Prickleclaw growled back, "I've seen Slicktail fight before, fought him myself actually, and I've seen you fight. Acorn to an oak, he would have beaten you silly. The only time blood matters is in battle, and that ShadowClan fox-heart was ready to spill yours from here to the Moonpool. Do us all a favor and try a little harder to live up to the name your father gave you."
Piketail was confused. What did his name have to do with being a great warrior? Prickleclaw seemed to sense this and he let out an irritated sigh.
"When a warrior is named with the ending '-tail', it symbolizes that cat's natural leadership. You don't realize it, but, being the son of Fallowstar, you set an example for every cat that's younger than you. Fallowstar believes that, someday, cats will follow you anywhere just by a flick of your tail. That's what your name means," Prickleclaw explained.
"Slicktail has '-tail' in his name also. Does that mean he's a natural leader too?" Piketail snorted back.
"Yes, it does. But just because a cat displays natural leadership does not mean that they will lead others down the right path," the senior warrior affirmed flatly.
Piketail felt the tiniest bit of respect for Prickleclaw grow in his chest as the larger tom flicked him over the ear.
"And if you're wondering what my name symbolizes, it means that I'm aggressive and intimidating, so when you inevitably go chat with your buddies later, tell them our talk was terrifying. Gotta keep up my reputation," the ginger tabby rumbled before jumping into the river with a hefty splash. Water danced up in a graceful arc and hovered in the air for a second before landing callously on top of the young gray warrior sitting on the bank.
Now soaked, Piketail didn't feel like returning to camp. Surely, word of his blunder at the border had already spread through the clan like a wildfire. Instead he sat down and began to groom himself, cleaning the dirt from his gray pelt.
"Gettin' hot for the mollies?" an impish, suggestive voice remarked from the bushes.
Piketail flattened his ears, recognizing the cat whom the voice belonged to as his close, albeit rather obnoxious, friend Swallowstorm. The underbrush rattled as the black and white tom cat slid out into the open, his blue eyes glittering with laughter.
"Better try harder than that, 'cuz I'm some pretty stiff competition," the young warrior winked at Piketail.
Swallowstorm was an average-sized tom with rippling muscles and a sleek coat of fur. He was a few moons older than Piketail, but younger than Acornwhisker. All three had trained together, though Acornwhisker and Swallowstorm had been made warriors first. Swallowstorm was known for being brash and making inappropriate comments. He had always been the one getting into trouble, and that's why Piketail liked him. Whenever he felt he needed a break from his duties he could rely on Swallowstorm to cover for him. Now the black and white tom sat down next to Piketail, giving him a harsh nudge.
"Speaking of ladies, now that you're a warrior, you got an eye on any of 'em?" Swallowstorm winked again, "Just so I can tell you how good they are in the nest, of course. Can't wait to take a swing at that lovely little sis of yours, now that she's a warrior too."
"Don't even think about it," Piketail growled at him, though he knew Swallowstorm was only joking.
"Too late!" the other tom meowed matter-of-factly, "I've already done lots of thinking about it. I won't go into the details though."
Piketail let out a playful hiss and cuffed his friend over the ear.
"What did he do now?" sighed a different voice from behind them. Acornwhisker pushed himself through the reeds towards them, before joining them near the edge of the river.
"He hasn't done anything yet," Piketail answered, shooting Swallowstorm a look. The patched tom flashed him an innocent smile.
"I waited for you back at camp, and when you didn't return, I figured I should come looking for you thinking maybe Prickleclaw tried to drown you or something," Acornwhisker explained.
"I'm fine," Piketail reassured him, rolling his eyes, "Besides the fact that Swallowstorm apparently has dirty thoughts about my sister."
Acornwhisker's green eyes widened in surprise, but, after a moment's thought, that seemed pretty typical of Swallowstorm.
"How's your lady, Acornwhisker?" the lusty black and white tom cut in, waggling his ears childishly.
The level-headed brown tabby sighed reproachfully, "Hormonal. It's like finding out that you're expecting means you can start acting like a total fish-brain. I love Sandystream to death, but I'm really worried for us. What if something happens to her or the kits? Or what if having the kits splits us apart? What if I'm a bad father?"
Piketail rested his tail on Acornwhisker's shoulder, "You'll be a great father. You're kind and brave and a loyal mate. If any cat is cut out for parenting kits, it's you."
Worry shimmered in Acornwhisker's eyes but he relaxed a little. He glanced back at Piketail and asked, "When do you think you'll find a mate and have kits? I don't want to be the only one, and though I'm sure Swallowstorm will knock up plenty of she-cats, who can rely on him to actually stick with one and settle down?"
"Hey! I'm right here, ya know!" the patched tom meowed with dismay.
Both Piketail and Acornwhisker shot him a look which quickly shut him up, before returning to the conversation.
"To answer your question," Piketail said to Acornwhisker, "I'm not really interested in anyone right now."
"You can't be serious!" Swallowstorm interjected, "What about Ibiswing or Jadesong? They're both young and pretty… well, I'd describe Ibiswing as more sleek, and Jadesong as more stunning. Or there's Dovewhisper! I know she's a bit of a cougar, but at least she's so quiet that you wouldn't have to listen to her talk about her emotions all the time. Oh, and Reedpool, she's a bit on the plain side, but I caught a glance at her walking away once, and boy did she have a nice-
"Whoa up there, lion!" Acornwhisker interrupted with a hiss, "I know what was about to come out of your muzzle just then was definitely not a comment on my sister's… er, posterior. You know what happens to a tom that remarks about Reedpool around me? I might just take him down a notch in the masculinity department."
"Alright, I got the message," Swallowstorm retorted, "All in good fun. You two are way too protective of your sisters. They can get with whoever they wanna get with, and it ain't any of your business."
"It's my business if whoever Reedpool gets with is somebody like you," Acornwhisker replied icily, "Besides, I think she has her sights set on Hemlocktail, and I rather think he likes her too, so you're both out of luck."
"Well, if perchance you are a sucky father, at least Sandystream will be back on the market," Swallowstorm remarked back, clearly stung by Acornwhisker's previous comment. The brown tabby glared at him and looked as though he was about to say something when he turned away, thinking better of it. Swallowstorm, seeing that he had won and not wanting to risk pushing Acornwhisker to follow through with his previous threat about destroying the mouthy warrior's tomliness, smartly decided to change the subject, "Maybe once your kits reach six moons, I'll get to mentor one of them. Maybe Piketail too!"
"I'd almost be okay with Piketail," Acornwhisker huffed, those his eyes glittered humorously, "He only thinks he's next-in-line for deputy— which he very well could be— but certainly Fallowstar wouldn't want an impressionable kit to be taught by a sister-stealing, tom lion."
This time it was Piketail who countered first, "Whoever said I'm a ruthless, RiverClan tycoon with leadership ambitions?"
Acornwhisker grinned back at him, "It's obvious, with Fallowstar being your father, and the way you tried to take over patrol today."
Piketail had never really considered himself as a cat after power. Of course, as a kit, he had dreamed of someday being leader, but what kit didn't dream that? Now, with Prickleclaw's explanation of his warrior name ringing in the back of his head, leadership didn't seem like such a far cry for him. He was a skilled battler, and a good swimmer, and other cats liked him. Who was there to stand in his way? Really, was there any quality that he didn't already possess, that would make him a more perfect fit for the job?
Pikestar… the name reverberated with the very image of strength. All he needed was an apprentice!
Piketail licked his lips, tasting cool air and salty sweat as he released a breath he had not known he was holding.
"Maybe someday I will become deputy," he announced.
Acornwhisker looked at him with an expression that Piketail did not understand, though he picked up a mixture of surprise and… was that sympathy? Did his friend not think he was capable of achieving leadership? Swallowstorm just gave them both blank glances.
Piketail didn't say anything more, but in his chest burned an insatiable desire for justice. He would prove himself to Acornwhisker, and to anyone else who had doubts about him. He would do whatever it took to become a great leader, one the likes of which RiverClan had never seen, and of which they would never see again. In one simple moment he had gone from not caring about leadership at all, to desperately aching for success in this new undertaking. He would talk to Fallowstar about an apprentice as soon as he got the chance.
Many miles above him, StarClan saw Piketail's ambition and hung their heads in distress. They knew that RiverClan would never see him as leader. In fact, it was rather uncertain if, in the coming moons, RiverClan itself would ever be seen again. There was really nothing they could do to change that.
Hot Newleaf sun beat down on the RiverClan camp, as it edged its way towards the far horizon. Piketail, Swallowstorm, and Acornwhisker returned home with a meager supply of prey. Swallowstorm had caught a sickly-looking perch, Piketail a few minnows, and Acornwhisker a scrawny mouse. It was not enough to fill all the hungry RiverClan mouths. Though Acornwhisker didn't say anything, Piketail could sense his friend's worry. The brown tabby warrior had a mate and kits on the way; he had reasons for his anxiety.
To make matters worse, Piketail noticed Baybreeze, a queen, ushering Lynxfur, her mate, towards the medicine den, all well trying to hold back her three young kits that were mewling for attention. The gray tabby tom had his head hung, and he stopped every few steps to cough violently or sneeze. His pale eyes were caked with grime and his coat was covered in sweat.
"What's wrong with him?" Piketail asked, to no one in particular, "He seemed okay earlier."
Acornwhisker sent him a sad stare, "I heard someone coughing in the medicine den when I got back from patrol earlier, and Clovershade told me it was Pale-eye. Apparently, he coughed through his entire border patrol this morning and collapsed. He almost had to be carried back. I wonder if it's a late bout of Greencough."
For once Swallowstorm was serious, "That's the last thing we need right now."
"I'll go talk to Echosky and find out what's going on," Piketail announced, striding towards the medicine den.
Acornwhisker and Swallowstorm watched him go with concern in their eyes, but the muscular gray warrior didn't look back.
Standing just outside Echosky's den, Piketail could hear the raucous hacking of two cats, plus the distorted murmur of RiverClan's medicine cat. The gray tom took a hesitant step inside. A sharp scent of illness assailed his nostrils and he held in a gag. Clearly Lynxfur was much sicker than he could imagine. A small silver tabby was bent over the craggy shoulders of Piketail's clan mate. She turned her attention to Piketail as soon as she caught sight of him.
"What's wrong? Are you ill?" Echosky inquired, scurrying to his side and pressing her nose to his side to check for a fever.
"No," Piketail responded, feeling a little awkward, "I was just checking on Lynxfur. He was with me on patrol today and he seemed alright. Do you know what's wrong?"
Echosky stared at him for a moment with a mixture of irritation and forced patience lingering in her blue eyes. She took a deep breath before answering him, "I do not know for sure what sickness he has, though it could be the beginnings of Greencough. Your concern is noble Piketail, but I'd appreciate if you'd steer clear of the medicine den in the future, unless you are injured or sick. RiverClan needs every able-bodied warrior it can have, and I don't want to risk other cats falling ill by coming into contact with those already infected. Both Lynxfur and Pale-eye will be just fine. Please have some faith in me, and give it time."
Feeling a bit stung by her cold words, Piketail held in a growl of frustration, merely grunting out a brief, "Of course," before he left the den. He stayed close by for just a moment longer to hear Echosky muttering to herself.
"StarClan, please send me a sign. What are you doing to my clan mates? Struggling through Newleaf when food should be plentiful, and now this strange disease. It's not like anything I've ever seen before. Last time we spoke, everything seemed well. Please, send help to my clan."
Piketail felt frozen in horror. Why did Echosky sound so desperate? There was something going on that no cat knew about, and it seemed as though things would only be getting worse in the near future. In the sky above, starry-furred warriors woefully nodded their heads.
Fun Fact #1: Dovewhisper and Ibiswing both already had kits. Dovewhisper had Hailpaw and Deltapaw with Hemlocktail and Ibiswing had Mistpaw and Oatpaw with Goldenpatch. Dovewhisper and Hemlocktail "broke up" after Hemlocktail developed a crush on Reedpool, but they waited until their kits were apprentices before they made it public. Ibiswing wanted kits at a young age and asked Goldenpatch to father them. They were never really an official couple.
Fun Fact #2: Swallowstorm has never actually had relations with a she-cat yet (though he really wants to!).