Disclaimer: I don't own the Warriors series!
Title: Deep Dive
Summary: In a world where ThunderClan absorbed ShadowClan seasons ago, young warrior Weaselface is tasked to rebuild the fourth Clan and take her place as leader. But how can she betray all she's ever known and loved, all on the word of one ghost with a grudge?
...
It took time to wriggle out from under Sweetshine and gently situate her head so she would be comfortable on the nest, enough so that when she finished the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. Larkkit and Honeykit were sleeping now, pressed to their mother's stomach with their little heads bent almost over themselves. It made Weaselface's heart ache to look at them. They're so little!
Weaselface bent down to gently nose both their heads. "You be good for your mother, now."
Slipping out of the nursery, Weaselface snuck one last look at the new family, only to almost smack nose-first into Spiderstar. The black tom laughed. "This is starting to become a running gag," he meowed, eyes twinkling. "How'd it go?"
She forced herself to straighten. Her heart thundered in her chest. If he knew my plan, there's no telling what he'd do to me. "Two kits, sir. Their names are Larkkit and Honeykit."
"Nice." He dipped his head. "Well, I was planning on greeting them, but I'll wait for the snoring to dry out first. Are you going hunting?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, relieved for the excuse. "I thought I'd get Sweetshine something to celebrate."
"How kind. Nab me a crow while you're at it, won't you?"
Weaselface nodded and made a beeline for the entrance to the camp. The air was humid and sticky from the rain, but she pressed on regardless, picking her way through the trees. The forest itched with potential prey, and it took almost all of her self-control not to catch herself something. If I'm leaving, I'm not a warrior anymore. I can't hunt in Clan territory. Her stomach gurgled in protest.
Soon, a couple of bumpy hills overtook the horizon, and Weaselface veered off to the side. The last thing she wanted to do was climb. I just need to find an old Twolegplace. Something empty, and decently sheltered. That will be good enough until the kits can walk. The thought of raising her litter as a bunch of loners pressed in on her like a herd of foxes. She knew loners could be decent cats, but it would be much harder to keep them safe that way.
The foliage nearby began to rustle. Panic immediately filled Weaselface, driving her into a log. She could just barely squeeze herself inside.
"Huh," meowed what sounded like Plumpetal. "I could've sworn I smelled-"
Fogfur stomped up beside her. "What are you doing, fluff-for-brains?"
"I smelled a cat!" Plumpetal argued. "It kind of smelled like Weasel."
The gray tabby snorted. "This far from camp? Yeah, right."
"She is due any day now," added Birchfoot. "Come on. Let's head back. We've got more than enough fresh-kill for the pile."
Weaselface strained her ears to listen. The hunting patrol's pawsteps slowly but surely faded out. That was too close! She wriggled her way out and kept moving. By Sunhigh, she had managed to make it into the long stripe of land WindClan had. The peat squished under her weight as she crept along the grass, eyes trained on even the slightest hint of movement.
Deciding to get as far from the camp as possible, Weaselface headed north. Her limbs ached, and she was absolutely exhausted by the time she got to a trail that winded up the rocks. Weaselface tasted the air, but found it almost impossible to know for sure if she was still in WindClan or not. I can't keep this up. I just can't. The queen ducked under a bush and curled up into a ball. She was too large for her tail to cover her nose. Just a five minute nap, she swore.
When Weaselface woke, night had fallen. Just my luck! She thought, but was glad no patrols had come upon her. She still wasn't sure where WindClan ended, exactly, but she doubted the open-range Clan would keep the winding pathway in their scent lines, and decided to follow that. She hauled herself up the final incline.
Before Weaselface lay a small stone hollow, glistening with leftover rainwater. From the left a short waterfall trickled into an almost perfectly circular pool. The water was so clear the moon seemed to be laying in it.
Is this… what I think it is? The fur along Weaselface's spine rose as she made out the pawprints etched in the path before her. It is! This is the Moonpool! She'd never seen the place before, but she'd heard stories of the place where medicine cats gathered.
The cool stone dug daggers in Weaselface's pawpads as she warily padded closer, sniffing. The water smelled like cold air. Not wanting to anger StarClan, she carefully went around, looking for a place to leave the Moonpool. There was none. Just the way she'd entered. There's gotta be some way around this place, right? The Moonpool can't be the end of the whole world!
"You're here."
Weaselface flinched and whirled around. Brackenstar sat by the water, smiling. The waterfall was stark against his ghostly pelt.
"I'm sorry," she rasped, eyes wide. "I didn't mean to, I promise."
But Brackenstar shook his head. "I wanted you to come. Your instincts guided you here tonight, just as mine did so many seasons ago." The golden tabby gestured to the water with his paw. "Are you thirsty?"
Weaselface hesitated. She was very, very thirsty. "I shouldn't," she said, uneasy. "This is for medicine cats only."
"Not just medicine cats," he replied. His amber eyes burned into her fur like fire. "Don't fret, Weaselface. You won't be the first or last loner to drink from this place. You're just lucky enough to know its context."
Tail flicking nervously, Weaselface had to admit he had a point. This place was holy to Clan cats, but there was a lot more cats in this world than just them, and it was only logical rogues and loners and kittypets had seen the Moonpool. Some probably even drank from it. "Will I... have dreams?"
Brackenstar's tail whisked across the stone. "Only one way to find out."
I guess I'll have to risk it, then. The brown molly carefully got closer. With no prey in her stomach, it felt like there was nothing but air inside her fur, and that made her dizzy. Water wouldn't fill that void, but it would be better than nothing. Brackenstar watched without moving as she sniffed at the water again. Her claws dug into the stone ledge.
"Remember what I told you," he rumbled.
The stone under her paw crumbled. Weaselface instinctively twisted onto her back to avoid her stomach taking the blow. Her head hit the water with a sloshing, slapping sound. The rest of her slipped in after. No! Weaselface's heart ran faster than a hare's as she tried desperately to flip herself around. Her lungs were burning. I can't swim!
Darkness went over the corners of her eyes like frost on grass. Struggling seemed useless now. Even as her back touched the relatively shallow bottom, she had no energy to push off. Paws grabbed her and dragged her into the black.
Whispering. Various voices were murmuring to each other. Weaselface's pelt was wet, but her body felt warm. She cracked her eyes open and find herself staring at a pine tree. I'm... safe?
"Shh!" said one of the voices, and they all went silent.
Weaselface sat up. Her muscles and joints creaked in protest as she did so. She shook her fur dry before looking around. Cats were all around her, but none of them had visages or pelts. They were the night, shaped in the form of cats. Some of them were small, some of them were large, and some were frail, but they were all made of the darkness, and they were all looking at her.
One stepped forward. It was almost exactly her size. "Hello," it said, but nothing mouth-like moved. The words seemed to thrum from their very being. "Don't be afraid. We cannot hurt you."
"Where am I? What are you?" Weaselface looked nervously around, trying to decide who she should be most concerned by. "Am I... dead?"
"You are Lost," they said. "We are The Shadows."
"The Shadows," the rest repeated.
"The Shadows?" Weaselface stared at the main one. "Of what?"
The Shadow cocked its head to the side. "We are The Shadows of our Clan. We are what is left."
It clicked into place. Weaselface felt herself relax slightly. "ShadowClan?"
It nodded.
"So you're StarClan cats?"
The Shadows seemed to thrum a moment, indecisive before the leader answered. "We were warriors, once. We were cats. We were afraid." They lowered their head. "And now we are here. We are Lost."
"I'm feeling a bit lost myself." Weaselface touched the bump of her stomach. "I didn't mean to bother you. If you can tell me how to get out of here, I'll be happy to give you peace."
The leader stared at her a long time, before turning to the nearest cat. It was short and broad. "Greet her," they instructed.
The short cat nodded and padded up to her, ducking his head politely. "Patience," it said, and brushed her nose. Weaselface felt something unending flow through her at the touch. She remembered kittens rolling through a scruffy pelt, battered with scars. She remembered long nights and empty bellies. She remembered being someone she didn't know.
"Is that... your name?" Weaselface asked eventually. "Patience?"
"If you'd like it to be," Patience said. "The Shadows don't have names."
"The Shadows," echoed the group again, and another stepped forward. This one was kit-sized.
"Bravery!" it chirped. Weaselface bumped noses with him and immediately felt a shock of fear. Being so small again, all alone in the nursery, as foreign forces rushed in. Bushing out her tiny pelt and yowling, "Leave my momma alone!" The fox didn't care.
Weaselface licked Bravery between the ears. "You were amazing, little one."
They ducked their head shyly and went to hide behind Patience.
The third was an elder, or close to it. It stopped halfway, making Weaselface come to them. She hoped that was okay with their strange greeting ritual. "Compromise." This was more vague concepts and emotions than a story, and she blinked blankly at the Shadow as it moved away. The same went for the fourth, who said their name was Consequence.
An apprentice eagerly brushed noses with Weaselface. Something fierce and powerful razed through her like fire. Blood was everywhere as she faced down something terrible. The blood was her's. The terrible thing went down with her. The Shadow curtseyed and said, "Justice."
The leader finally came forward, bowing their neck to reveal another kit. It scrambled closer. "Me! Pick me!" it exclaimed, as she sheepishly met it. A tight line of warriors around her little body. The reek of Greencough. StarClan, telling her it was time to go. The kit blinked its eyes sockets at her in a friendly manner. "I'm Loyalty."
"Nice to meet you, Loyalty," she meowed. Weaselface dipped her head to the last. "It's your turn now, isn't it?"
It nodded and pressed their foreheads together, angling their nose away from her. "Love," they whispered, and made contact. Fire and feathers in her stomach. A tiny apprentice to raise. The press of a golden tabby pelt.
Weaselface blinked and they were gone. She was sitting alone again, in ThunderClan's training hollow. The shriek of birds reminded her just how hungry she was; but, again, it wasn't happening. She sighed with self-pity.
"You always were a wet ball of moss, Weasel."
No, thought Weaselface, it can't be. She turned and saw Antpaw, his black and white pelt shiny and bright. That old smirk was on his muzzle.
"Hey," he said.
She was on him before she could blink, claws digging into his scruff. Antpaw stared up at her, amused, as she hissed. "You little badger-heart! You never told me about Sweetshine! What kind of cat do you think you are, huh? I oughta kill you right now!"
"I think I'm a dead one," Antpaw chuckled. "So good luck with that."
"You tricked me!"
"We had an understanding. We were just two friends having fun. Is that so wrong?"
"You cheated on Sweetshine! Of course it's wrong!"
Antpaw's eyes were glittering. "You're assuming a lot of me, Weasel."
Weaselface forced herself to take a deep breath, removing herself from his sternum. "You told her, then," she deduced.
"Told her?" he snorted, sitting up. "I asked her, dummy. If you'd spent two seconds thinking about it you'd have realized I'm not that kind of tom."
"In my defense, you are a feather-brain."
Antpaw's whiskers quivered, as if he was in on a great joke. "Do you really think this is a greeting ceremony?"
"Of course it is," Weaselface meowed. "What else would it be? I'm no medicine cat."
"Proof that you're the feather-brain." He wound around her with a fond glint to his eyes. "Now, you didn't hear this from me, but I'm here to give a little gift." Antpaw bumped their noses together. "Fun."
Flashes again. This one was full of butterflies. Running in circles to catch your tail. Knocking a stern brown molly out of her rhythm. Hiding fresh-kill in your mentor's nest. And, finally, of battle; of gleefully running, dancing, making your opponents look like fools.
But there she is- the brown molly. She's down. And you would never, ever wish her harm, even if she eats the warrior code for breakfast. You shove her away and then there's claws in your throat, and blood going down your chest, and you're not having fun anymore.
"You shouldn't have done that," Weaselface whispered. Her voice sounded like gravel.
Antpaw pulled away with a sheepish smile. "No regrets, amiright?"
"You're leaving again, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "Gotta join the crowd. We're having a big event tonight."
It took all of Weaselface's power to not wail and cling to him. She never knew just how much she missed Antpaw until this very second, hearing his silly mew all over again. "Do you... want me to send a message? To Sweetshine."
"Aw, Weasel," he meowed, laughing. "I would, but you won't be able to talk about any of this."
Antpaw vanished just as the reek of pines hit her all over again. Weaselface sensed Brackenstar behind her, smiling indulgently. "Sorry about all this confusion, dear. It'll all become clear soon."
Weaselface stared at his pelt. "One of The Shadows knew you."
He scowled. "Ignore those mouse-hearts."
"They seemed pretty kind to me."
"Of course they did! They give you all the nice memories. Let me show you the truth." The tabby pressed his nose to hers, scrunching up his face. "Leadership, poise, and respect."
These memories were the foggiest of all. There was a lot of fighting, and blood, and the bright moon on Brackenstar's pelt. The Shadows lined up, actual cats now- claws digging into his fur, over and over. One gently held the kittens' paws so they struck.
Weaselface felt numb as he stepped back. They killed him. Over and over again. Weren't they his Clanmates? "Why are you showing me this?"
"Can't hunt without all your senses. You needed to know to move on." Cats were appearing now, endless numbers of starry warriors and leaders and kits. They swarmed around them in a mass of fur. "I can't tell you everything tonight, Weaselface; but once things settle down, spend the night in the moss you inherited, and all will become clear."
"What?" Alarmed, Weaselface tried to snag his ear, only for him to move away. "Why not?"
"You have to wake up. It's time to fight the waves." Brackenstar turned and gestured to her with her tail. "Cats of StarClan, I present to you the new leader of ShadowClan!"
What?
The chant that came next made the ground shake under her paws.
"Weaselstar! Weaselstar! Weaselstar!"
Author's Note: I promise I'll go back to Brightfur I PROMISE, I've just really looked forward to this chapter. A lot of concepts came and went for this chapter, actually- originally it was gonna be a slideshow of Weasel's memories with Antpaw, then I considered maybe visiting the ShadowClan Brackenstar once knew and having the warriors there "greet" her that way, but ultimately this felt most accurate.
-Mandaree1