A/N: And here's the next chapter!
Chapter Fourteen
Sparrowwing watched quietly as Flowerpaw and Tigerpaw fought with Foxtail and Rabbitfoot, Grassrunner licking her chest fur down as the gray queen sat next to her. She had overseen Flowerpaw's Warrior Training for a moon now, and there had been an improvement, she had been pleased to note. The lazy she-cat had, for example, stopped making as much noise while travelling in the tall grass, she didn't hesitate nearly as long as she had before when it came to Battle Training, and she was less likely to take a nap while on patrol, which was something Sparrowwing hadn't been aware that she'd have to fix, until she'd done a surprise check-up on the younger queen and found her curled up beneath a bush.
Well, a week of nothing but Night Patrols and then still having to hunt with her Mentor in the time before sun-high taught her that Sparrowwing wasn't nearly as indulgent as Windclaw had apparently gotten to be.
"You've done a great job, training Flowerpaw, Sparrowwing," Grassrunner murmured to her as they watched the two young cats be joined by Whitepaw, the solemn young tom immediately throwing himself at his own Mentor even as Sunset leaped out of the grass to tackle Tigerpaw with a yowl. Sparrowwing hummed in acknowledgement, whiskers twitching with amusement.
"She hates me, you know," she told her friend conversationally, amused. "Apparently I'm a bully." Grassrunner let out a mrt of amusement, rubbing her head against the tabby queens own.
"Oh yes, how dare you make sure she actually survives being a Warrior," she mocked, still chortling. The two of them winced as Foxtail mercilessly threw Whitepaw directly into Flowerpaw's side, sending the two Paws into Rabbitfoot's attack-range. "Seriously, though, what in the name of StarClan has Windclaw been doing with her?" She wondered; Sparrowwing hummed again, declining to comment further. She was biased, after all, something Flowerpaw had been quick and often enough to accuse her of that she was able to acknowledge that she was, but she knew she didn't allow her to taint her job as a Warrior. Not trusting him to do his duty when it came to her was one thing, but having proof that he had been neglecting his duty as a Warrior to the Clan? His duty as a Mentor to Flowerpaw?
Well. It was probably best that she didn't comment.
"Wait," Grassrunner murmured, tone shifting from exasperation to realization. "Isn't his litter with Blacktail the first one that's resulted in living kits and not stillborn since my own litter?" Sparrowwing blinked, glancing at her friend as Grassrunner looked over her shoulder towards the Camp with a thoughtful look. "You know, I think it is. Windclaw's two litters before this one were stillborn, or the kits died before their own Naming, like my brothers," she murmured to Sparrowwing, and she blinked as she realized that Windclaw was her friends Sire, something she had forgotten as the tom and queen had never really interacted as such, as far as she knew.
"That must be why he's so distracted, so quick to leave his designated hunting areas for others! And with Snailkit's death the other day," her voice dropped softly and Sparrowwing flinched at the memory of Nightfur and Robinheart's screams as the hawk's talons curled around the adventurous kit's little body, the hawk's victory cry as it flew away, the slowly fading squeals of the kit as it disappeared out of sight… "It's probably why he's taken to sleeping in the Nursery Den's opening most nights now," the gray queen murmured, and Sparrowwing's tail twitched as she turned her attention back to the Battle Practice.
"I can understand why he'd be distracted, in that case," she acknowledged quietly, softly, but her voice was firm as she continued, "but the only way he could truly guarantee that his kits survive to become Warriors is if he does his duty and follows the Code and all its nuances properly. Abandoning his posts for better hunting is a poor excuse. He could just as easily have returned to Camp, informed someone of the change, and then changed Posts. That would have allowed another cat to take over his previous location. Instead, he not only chose to leave without letting any cat know, but he taught such bad habits to his Apprentice, which is, in itself, a dereliction of his duty as a MeadowClan Warrior."
"So serious," Grassrunner mused, voice teasing as Sparrowwing got to her paws in order to reclaim her temporary Apprentice from the brawl that was about to devolve into one-on-one training, from the looks of Foxtail's narrowed eyes. "What happened to the kit who got frightened by butterflies and would hide behind me when they flew too close?" Sparrowwing snorted, laughing abruptly at the memory even as she tossed her head.
"She grew into something the butterflies were afraid of!" She meowed back mirthfully, mood lifted even as she darted into the yowling fray, tackling Flowerpaw and sending the two of them rolling away from the skirmish, grinning at the panting Paw and teasingly swatting at her before running out of the Battle Training Circle. Flowerpaw immediately gave chase, eyes narrowed as she unthinkingly followed.
Sparrowwing led her on a merry chase, ducking through the grasses and leaping over branches, rocks, and the occasional bush, calling out encouragement and censure equally as she went.
"Watch your speed when you turn, Flowerpaw! Turn too slowly, and you lose ground! Too fast, you risk falling!"
"Good lunge! You almost had my tail there! Just watch where your prey is heading, my shoulders will tell you when I plan to turn or jump!"
"Watch it, mouse-brain! There's no point in taking risks like that! You've been on this log before, you know to avoid the bark!"
And on it went, until, finally, they made it all the way to the Secondary Camp, and Sparrowwing slowed to a walk, panting lightly as Flowerpaw staggered and then collapsed on the ground, mouth wide as she panted heavily, sides heaving. Sparrowwing sat beside the water's edge, catching her breath as she watched the dragonflies buzz. She waited until Flowerpaw was no longer gasping, before looking at her over her shoulder.
"This was one of the first places Palestripe took me when I was a Paw," she informed the younger queen simply. "He fixed my hunting crouches, showed me how a MeadowClan cat hunted, and, best of all," she added wryly, "he taught me how to swim." Immediately, Flowerpaw's ears pinned back in distaste. "We won't be going over that today," she reassured the yellow queen calmly. "That run tired you out and no cat wants to try swimming while exhausted. Instead," she said, turning her back on the small creek to focus her gray eyes on Flowerpaw, "we're going to go over your hunting crouches, your stalks, and your grass-hiding." Flowerpaw grimaced but heaved herself to her paws, ears pinned. "You're learning very quickly, Flowerpaw," Sparrowwing added quietly, encouragingly, nudging the queen with her nose as she moved away from the water. "I doubt there will be much to work on, so consider this an excuse to relax after that hard run, alright?"
"Okay, Sparrowwing," Flowerpaw meowed back, and the brown tabby sent her a small, reassuring look. Grassrunner had been right, she decided as she coached the yellow queen through what small mistakes her various forms had. Sparrowwing was, perhaps, being a bit too serious and hard on the younger queen, partly out of frustration with her lazy attitude, partly with how poorly handled Windclaw was taking her Mentoring, and partly…
Partly because Flowerpaw looked a lot like Sunflare, and the wound in her heart that bore her brothers Name would always sting whenever the yellow queen would get excited about something. And Sunflare, despite his happy nature, had been a determined, dedicated Paw, eager to become a Warrior that would make MeadowClan proud. To see a cat that looked like him, so lackluster and lazy and mulish when it had come to actual training…
Well, no more, she decided later as the two she-cats curled up within their separate dens after a good meal of two thrush and a shared vole. She wouldn't treat Flowerpaw like a shallow reflection of Sunflare. She knew better, now, and she refused to make the same mistake. Warriors learned from both defeat and victory, after all, and that included mistakes in their own character.
The next morning, they were woken by the Dawn Patrol, Windclaw speaking softly with the sleepily smiling Flowerpaw as Foxtail and Palestripe woke Sparrowwing.
"Keep your eyes and ears peeled, Warrior," the Deputy ordered sharply, green-gold eyes narrowed in the same disdainful expression they'd held for Sparrowwing since before her mother died all those moons ago, when she'd been barely three moons old and Sunflare had gone from rambunctious to a clingy, silent kit. "We've spotted fox-tracks and droppings already nearby this morning. We'll be patrolling the CreekClan Border. I want you and Flowerpaw to head back to the Home Camp by sun-high at the latest, understood?"
"Yes, Foxtail," she agreed immediately. "I'll take her back along center-most trails. We'll hunt along the way and keep an eye out in case the foxes are moving towards Camp." The older queen nodded sharply, glancing over her shoulder and letting out a sharp call to Windclaw as Palestripe nudged Sparrowwing with his head and wished her happy hunting. After a few minutes spent drinking from the creek and shaking the morning dew from their fur, Sparrowwing led Flowerpaw away from the Secondary Camp. Wandering carefully through the heart of their Territory, the two queens found signs of foxes quickly.
A tuft of oily, red fur caught on a bush. A pile of dung barely a day old. Buried remains of a kill no cat would leave. Paw prints in damp earth. The scent of them crossing the paths MeadowClan cats walked near every day. Sharing a look, hackles prickling and pupils widening to catch even the slightest hint of movement, mouths open to taste the scents in the air.
"Stay close," Sparrowwing breathed; Flowerpaw nodded warily, ears pinned as she glanced nervously behind her, and Sparrowwing eyed her quietly. "I won't let anything happen to you if I can help it, Flowerpaw," she told the younger queen quietly, seriously as they stalked carefully through the grass. "I will defend you if we're attacked. I give you my word as a Warrior." Flowerpaw stared at her, blue eyes wide, and Sparrowwing paused to give her a half-smile, gray eyes calm.
"What are cousins for, after all," she teased softly, and the younger queen blinked twice, startled, before hesitantly smiling back.
"Yeah," she whispered as they continued onward. "What are cousins for…" Sparrowwing flicked an ear towards the younger queen, and led the way, eyes sharp as they examined the grasses around them. It was the first time that she felt like she wasn't safe in her own Territory during the light of day.
She hated it.
"Let's hunt something quickly," she murmured, squinting to at the sky, taking in the slowly building clouds out over the forest. "Between the weather turning and the foxes, I'd feel better if we were closer to Camp."
"Right," Flowerpaw agreed softly, and the two of them began to hunt. It took time and patience, the prey spooked by the scent of foxes, but soon enough they were able to bring down a couple thrush and even a bright-colored blue jay. As soon as they had their prey hanging securely from their teeth, the queens turned their attentions in the direction of the Home Camp, loping quietly through the tall grass towards their Clanmates.
But they didn't arrive to a bustling Camp, but to the shrieks of fighting cats and the snarling yips of a fox.
"No," Sparrowwing breathed, dropping her share of the prey as she froze, eyes wide, Flowerpaw doing the same for a split second. There were three foxes in the heart of the MeadowClan Camp, a full-grown fox and two younglings only a little larger than WhisperStar himself, but that was three foxes too many for the Camp. The stench of blood and death had coated their home as their Clanmates struggled to protect their kits and loved ones, and Sparrowwing threw herself into the fray with a screech of fury as she bore witness to Thornclaw being shaken in the hold of the elder, mother fox, the poor, deaf elder limp and bloody as he hung in those fangs. Blacktail was torn to shreds before the Elder's Den, her kind eyes staring and mouth open in a bloody scream, tufts of that oily red fur in her claws even as one of the young foxes stood over her, jaws moving and a clump of meat briefly reappearing as it swallowed.
Sparrowwing's mind blanked as she moved, a hollow, empty expanse of shock and horror and outrage and wild, burning grieving rage overwhelming her. It was not a Warrior that lunged across the camp to tackle one of the Fox Whelps as it sniffed around the Nursery edge, where blind Stonefang was snarling gutturally as he boldly blocked the entrance. It wasn't Sparrowwing of MeadowClan that moved, training and keen mind at the ready.
It was, instead, the spirit of a raging mother that slammed into the larger predator, that screeched like a wild thing as she dug for its soft, vulnerable eyes and throat, that screamed back when it yelped and struggled. She saw only the red of blood, the red of that damned fur, and it flooded over her, a crimson wave that washed away reason, washed away caution and self-reservation and care.
When the mother fox reacted, snarling and yipping and snapping her teeth, Sparrowwing ripped herself away from the whelp and lunged at her instead, a hissing, spitting mass of fur and fangs and claws that knew no hesitation, that didn't care about the bloody gashes that saw her fur soon matted down. She knew only attack and defend, and that was all she needed to know.
Time held no meaning to Sparrowwing, and so what felt like moments or moons passed between her loss of sense, and the swift, desperate retreat of the foxes. She yowled, enraged, and dove after them, only to find herself tackled and pinned down, restrained from giving chase by the grimacing form of a bloody, dark-eyed Rainstorm.
"Get ahold of yourself, Warrior!" He yowled, and Sparrowwing stilled, panting and bloody and gasping desperately for the air that, only moments ago, her body hadn't needed. "We need you here, Sparrowwing. We need strong Warriors to protect our most vulnerable. So, get ahold of yourself and be the Warrior we need right now." Sparrowwing stared up at him, gasping, panting, and jerked her head in a nod. Slowly, the black tom stepped off her, and she heaved herself up, panting and shivering as the heat of battle began to slowly fade, the rancid taste of fox clinging to her tongue alongside the familiar tang of blood. Slowly, she looked around herself, and took in the bloody, injured forms of her Clanmates, and forced herself to her paws, deliberately turning from the bloody path the foxes left behind to focus on her Clanmates.
"Is, is anyone seriously injured?" She managed to call. Slowly, meows and mewls rose in response as those injured checked themselves.
"Th-Thornclaw and Blacktail are dead," Tigerpaw managed to report shakily from where he was shivering, pupils' pinpricks and blood spattered across his fur, a nasty gouge cut into his left shoulder as an equally bloody and filthy Flowerpaw slumped tiredly next to him, one ear torn, and a front paw tucked close, the pad clearly ripped.
"Lostfoot's in shock," Pebblepaw reported as she slunk from the Elders Den, ears pinned and blood soaking her paws from where she was forced to walk through the remains of Blacktail to reach her patient. "He might not make it through the night."
"Anyone else?" Rainstorm demanded, gold eyes sweeping over them all, doing a headcount.
"Not that I've been able to—" Pebblepaw started, before a heartbroken yowl rose up.
"WhisperStar!" Whitepaw wailed, making the entire Clan flinch in shock as every cat able surged towards the cry. And there, sprawled before the entry path of the Battle Training Circle, was WhisperStar. He had been badly mangled, his lower body twisted at an angle from the rest of him that spoke of a broken back, an ear and his left eye ripped away and a wound dug along his ribs that spoke of cruel fangs digging deep and shaking.
"Don't cry, Whitepaw," he gasped wetly, panting softly as he laid there. "Nor anyone else. I am still alive," he breathed as the Clan gathered, crying out plaintively, pleadingly as they huddled around their Leader. "Tell me, has StarClan called any of our Warriors home to the Starpelt?" Rainstorm stepped forward and bowed his head so that his forehead brushed against the bloody head of their Leader.
"Blacktail and Thornclaw have been Called," he told the larger cat softly. "And Lostfoot may join them soon." WhisperStar mewled softly, achingly, even as he gasped on another breath.
"But, but no other?" He demanded; the Medicine Cat shook his head.
"No, WhisperStar," he murmured. "No one else." Sparrowwing closed her eyes and looked away, before the faintest rustling of grass had her eyes shooting open and her muscles tensing, claws digging into the earth, ready to once more rend flesh and fur from vulpine form—
Foxtail, Palestripe, and Windclaw froze at the entrance, sides heaving as they stared, wide-eyed and ears back, even cold Foxtail, as they took in the devastation.
"Foxtail," Sparrowwing called, softly, gaining the older queen's attention immediately. "Its WhisperStar," she told her; immediately, the Deputy lunged over the remnants of the battlefield to push her way through the gathered cats. Palestripe joined them quickly, briefly pausing to check on his kits as Pebblepaw, Flowerpaw, and Tigerpaw looked to him for reassurance, before taking his place between them and Sparrowwing, Sunset hunched over and mewling softly under her breath in grief as she hid her face in Blossomheart's scruff. Windclaw hesitated, before darting into the Nursery, Stonefang letting him pass but otherwise remaining strong, a blind sentinel holding stern vigil over the Clan's future.
"Foxtail," WhisperStar gasped as the Deputy moved so that he could see her with his remaining eye. "Hear me." Foxtail stilled, blinking once, slowly, as if she only stopped from keeping them closed out of sheer force of will, ears pinned back and shoulders hunching as she carefully laid beside her friend and Leader.
"My ears are yours, WhisperStar," she told him softly; the white toms chest heaved as he panted, blood already drying against the earth, swallowed by the grass beneath their paws like a promise.
"I am undone," he told her hoarsely, softly, yellow eye steady if pain-glazed. Foxtail flinched, and Rainstorm looked away, gold eyes closing in sorrow. "With this attack, the foxes have crippled me, and taken from me another Blessed Life. This is my last Blessing, my Final Life," he informed her and the Clan at large, making cries of denial, of grief, of shock ring out, eyes going wide and heads lifting. "I cannot be the Leader MeadowClan needs, especially now, with our hearts and bodies injured and our Home upturned. I cannot lead us into prosperity and strength, I cannot walk alongside our Warriors into danger, nor guide the pawsteps of future Warriors."
"What are your orders, WhisperStar," Foxtail asked quietly, solemnly, and WhisperStar stared at her quietly for several long moments.
"It is time I join the Great Warriors of the Starpelt," he told her quietly, softly. "Foxtail, my Deputy, my friend, my sister in all but blood. I offer you my Last Blessing." Slowly, his head lifted from the ground, as if it was weighed down by stone. "Take it." Collectively, the Clan flinched, shocked and horrified and denying, all but Foxtail and Rainstorm, the two who had known and understood where their great Leader had been going as soon as he'd started speaking. Foxtail's green-gold eyes held WhisperStar's remaining yellow solemnly, steadily, for several long seconds, before she finally closed them, head bowing.
"So my Leader has ordered," she murmured. "So must I obey." WhisperStar's head fell back down as he sighed softly, eye closing as he breathed in slowly once more.
"Thank you," he replied softly, quietly; the white queen sat up and turned away, her namesake-tail twitching as she turned her back on him.
"Do not thank me, WhisperStar," she told him softly. "Not for this." With her head lifted high, she got to her paws. "Share your Final Tongues, my friend," she told him softly as she moved towards the Nursery. "I will return when you are finished." In response, the Clan slowly moved away, granting their soon-to-be gone Leader some privacy as he prepared for his final Journey. The first to share Final Tongues with him was Whitepaw, his bloodstained form looking far smaller as he curled against his father's chest, mewling plaintively even as WhisperStar murmured to him and set a paw against his side. Slowly, one by one, they were each called over, Stonefang being guided over by Pebblepaw, and even Pinetail was coaxed from the Nursery to be spoken too, the once-Kittypet's eyes wide and glassy with nerves and grief, even as she vowed to care for Blacktail's kits like her own until they were ready to take on the Name of Apprentice.
And then, then it was Sparrowwing's turn, and the pale brown tabby-queen slunk over to curl against the large form of her Leader, ears pinned, and body pained enough to fight with her heart over which wound was worse.
"Breathe easy, Sparrowwing," he murmured to her as he laid there, his once larger-than-life presence reduced to that of a merely common tom, the Loss of his Blessed Lives taking their toll on his very being. "…I have watched you grow, from solemn, loving young kit to a serious, playful Paw, and into a fierce, protective young queen and Warrior that would make Spirits of the First Warriors sit up and take notice." He sighed softly, no longer panting but breathing still far too shallow to be healthy.
"I will miss you," Sparrowwing told him quietly, achingly, as she buried her face in his chest fur, curling against the warmth of his body, desperate to etch the memory into her heart. "No one else will laugh at me for being afraid of a moose or talk like a wise old Elder about what the kits back in their day had been like or offer the same sort of advice when I get lost about how to train foolish Paws." WhisperStar chuckled, shifting just enough that his own nose buried in her scruff, pressing there comfortingly.
"Silly little bird," he murmured softly. "You've a whole Clan of cats that will do all that. And in them, my Spirit has placed its paws. Just as its placed its pawprints within you, Sparrowwing, daughter of Daisyheart, Warrior of MeadowClan." Sparrowwing's breath stuttered, her body shuddered, and if cats could weep like Two-Legs could, she would have cried enough to wash all the blood from the earth beneath them, wept her grief and love and loneliness into the soil and drowned out the death that curdled there and fed on the roots of her life and the lives of her Clan, her Family, her Home.
But cats can't cry like Two-Legs, and so, instead, she mewled, she warbled out her sorrow into the air, gave voice to her tears and let the wind sweep them away.
It was sun-high when the last of the Final Tongues had been shared, and the Clan watched silently, grievingly, from a distance as Foxtail and Rainstorm sat beside the fallen form of WhisperStar, speaking softly to him, ears pinned, and heads bowed. Whitepaw and the other Paws looked away when Foxtail finally moved, and several Warriors flinched and looked away as well, as she sank her teeth into the back of his neck, eyes open and unblinking as she moved.
It was sun-high when WhisperStar, Leader of MeadowClan, breathed his last breath and stepped fully into StarClan's Territory, his Final Blessed Life taking leave of his mortal form in the shimmering, silver-mist of stars, a brief outline of their beloved Leader pausing only long enough to bow his head for them, before rising into the sky to join the Starpelt with those who walked before him, to await those who followed after.
The Clan yowled and cried, their voices carrying into the sky after him as his Spirit left, their grief and love giving his Spirit strength as they did so.
And, as they slowly moved to bury their dead, the storm clouds rolled and moved ever closer.
By sunset, it began to rain, StarClan itself mourning with the MeadowClan cats as they grieved. And the downpour grew stronger as, in the night, Lostfoot passed away, unable to handle the surge of emotions and shock of the attack and its aftermath, his heart giving out as he lay curled inside the Medicine Den with only Rainstorm and Pebblepaw as witness.
And still, the Starpelt cried.
A/N: And so passes WhisperStar, Blacktail, Thornclaw, and beloved Lostfoot.
(Bows head)