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?

Chapter Title: A Big Deal

...

I really should've cleaned first.

Weaselstar paced the dusty leader's den. She hadn't stepped paw into the den since the night she saw ShadowClan's demise. Scraps of moss were shoved into corners, covered with cobwebs. She kicked aside what looked like a squirrel bone and sat down, tailtip twitching. She'd picked this den because it was solitary and private, but now it just felt like a snub.

The dried lichen shifted as Bumblepaw shoved her nose through it. "Weasel? You asked to see us?"

"Uh, yeah." Weaselstar awkwardly gestured to the messy dirt in front of her. "Come on in."

Bumblepaw turned her head to gesture to Ratpaw. The apprentices crept inside with equal parts trepidation and confusion, sniffing at the destroyed den like it was a badger ready to strike. Weaselstar waited for them to settle in, feeling more embarrassed by the second.

"Did we do something wrong?" Ratpaw asked, eventually.

"No, nothing like that. It's, uh, the opposite, really." Weaselstar blinked at them hopefully. Recognition didn't pass either face. She heaved a sigh. "I was hoping to get some suggestions from the two of you. For, uh, for your names."

Bumblepaw's jaw dropped. "Our warrior names?"

"Yeah. Those."

Ratpaw tilted his head to the side. "But... aren't you supposed to pick those out for us?"

"Probably, but I got my name chosen for me, and it wasn't exactly a great experience. I want my warriors to have names they'll be proud to bear." Weaselstar shrugged, pelt hot. Leaders always make warrior ceremonies seem so easy. "Any suggestions are welcome- things you want, things you don't like, whatever."

Bumblepaw and Ratpaw traded a look. Ratpaw cleared his throat. "Well, um. I was kind of hoping to be named after Birchfoot."

"Birchfoot?"

"Yeah. He gave up a lot for us, you know? He didn't have to leave ThunderClan, or train me on top of Bumblepaw." The black tom's tail swished. "I think he's the closest thing I've got to a good paternal figure."

"I'll bring it up to him just in case, but I'm sure he'll be honored," she promised, feeling a smidge of misplaced pride. Weaselstar didn't kid herself thinking she had anything to do with Ratpaw's new lease on life, but it was satisfying to witness. "Bumblepaw?"

Bumblepaw jumped. "Oh. Right. Me?" She glanced around, as if trying to draw ideas out from thin air. "I dunno! I like names based on personalities, I guess. I wouldn't wanna spend the rest of my life as Bumblenight or something just because my fur is dark."

Weaselstar dipped her head. She'd cobbled together a few backup names just in case either apprentice couldn't come up with anything concrete. "Alrighty, that's what I needed. And, uh- if you kids ever want to change your name, tell me? You don't need a dark backstory to get sick of a name."

"Kids," scoffed Bumblepaw, rolling her eyes. "You're only a couple of moons older than us, Weasel."

"Ah, trust me, I feel every one of those moons in my back." She gave them a lopsided smile. "Alright, that's it. Go join up with Birchfoot. He's waiting to start your assessments."

"Already?" Bumblepaw's ears flew back with surprise. "I wasn't expecting- I haven't even sharpened my claws yet!"

Ratpaw laughed and poked her shoulder with his paw. "Race ya to it!" he cried, then sprinted away. Bumblepaw scrambled after him with a surprised mrrow! Weaselstar felt something warm settle in her chest as she watched them push and shove their way to the fresh-kill pile for a quick breakfast. She still didn't really want to move into the den, but perhaps it could be repurposed yet. A naming den could be good. Or an extra medicine den. Weaselstar bent down and took a bone in her teeth, planning to clean.

"Do you remember the words?"

"Stars," wheezed Weaselstar, feeling her heart almost jump out of her pelt. She turned to Beethroat with a pout. "Oh. It's you."

Beethroat waved her tail in what Weaselstar read as a greeting. The calico's form was almost see-through, with the slightest twinkling of stars in her eyes. "The words of a ceremony are a big deal," she continued. "It's more than just the names themselves. It's the flair. The welcoming of StarClan. You remember them?"

"I've been practicing them all week," she promised. Beethroat seemed to settle at her words, flopping down on her haunches. "I thought you were... I dunno, free? Not a Shadow anymore?"

"Your understanding of the situation isn't wrong. This is my StarClan-given form. Old as it might be- as forgotten as it might be. I'm the spectre of a deputy, only recalled by a single living being."

"Me?"

Beethroat blinked at her, pleased. "Aye. But I can't rest quite yet." The calico bowed her head. "As time goes on, you will need guidance and help. My Shadows can gift that to you- if, in turn, you release them."

Weaselstar's ears flattened, struck by the quiet desperation in the molly's voice. I don't want to leave a group of cats to haunt, do I? She remembered how Brackenstar died with a shudder. But can I trust them when they've done what they did?

The deputy seemed to recognize her line of thought. "Blame me for the end of ShadowClan. All they did was try to survive. My Shadows are elders, medicine cats, even kits- they don't deserve to rot the way we have."

"How can I trust you?"

"Touch noses with me. I'm done keeping secrets."

Weaselstar hesitated. She took a step closer and Beethroat moved as well, pausing when she flinched back. The brown molly tried again, this time without assistance. The heavy odor of sap coated Weaselstar's tongue as she brushed against Beethroat's cold, dry nose.

She sees snippets. Snatches.

Quick, thudding pawsteps on the leaf-strewn ground. Calico paws nearing a hovering group of cats, all cast in darkness. One in the center, bright and bloody. Holding him close for the briefest of moments before being dragged away, wailing for an apprentice. Your apprentice.

Brackenstar, alive and unyielding, his eyes crazed with horror and disbelief as he argued. It lasted well into the night. "-paw is a traitor to ShadowClan! He attacked his own. I'll never accept him as a warrior."

"They were attacking RiverClan kits!" you snap back. "My apprentice followed the warrior's code. And now he's out there somewhere, being healed by medicine cats that stink of fish. You must name him warrior to prove that ShadowClan does not condone-"

"ShadowClan doesn't condone traitors," he repeated, baring his teeth. "We'll get you another one, alright? Just let him go."

"This isn't bits of fresh-kill, Brackenstar! This is-"

"I've made my decision." The tom turned his back on her, padding confidently towards his den. "Maybe next time you'll teach your apprentice correctly."

The next Gathering. Blood on your leader's paws. And ThunderClan, smiling seductively from a tree branch above.

Weaselstar didn't realize she was staggering until her butt slammed into the side of the wall. Beethroat's eyes followed her with a furious intensity, belied by the rumbling growl that had started in her chest.

The deputy, seeming to realize she had caused concern, took in a deep breath. Her pelt slowly fell flat. "This is... the first warrior ceremony in a very long time," she meowed quietly. "It's gotta be perfect."

"It will be." She swallowed down some bile. Weaselstar felt her paws shaking, claws scraping against the ground. What if it was Ashpaw? The idea of being led away from him by enemy warriors as he bled out, unknowingly witnessing his last moments, was hard to consider. What if it was one of the kits? She shook the idea away and hesitantly touched Beethroat's paw. "And I'll make sure nothing like that can happen again."

Beethroat slowly nodded. "I'll hold you to that, Weaselstar."

So. No pressure.

Weaselstar misjudged her leap onto the Pinebranch, back paw dangling precariously. It was beginning to feel like trees themselves had it out for her. She sat down with a groan. For a moment, she just watched. Fogfur and Ashpaw were wrestling in the clearing, their gray pelts blending together. Hootpaw played tag with the kits, Elmkit hot on her heels. Larkkit, noticing her above, stopped to smile at her. Squirrelwhisker was chatting with the elders, no doubt gossiping about the Gathering. Adderpelt was returning with Dovefrost, carrying a mouse and finch each.

We're doing it, she realized, feeling her heart soar. We're building a real Clan. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Pinebranch for a Clan meeting!"

Squirrelwhisker stopped mid-sentence to grumble about her not needing to yell, but it did the job. Ashpaw and Hootpaw quickly groomed themselves free of dust. Fogfur bore her dusty fur with pride, sitting beside Sweetshine. Though the kits weren't old enough to join, Weaselstar was happy to see them squirm in beside Adderpelt, snatching glances up at her like they thought they were getting away with something.

"ShadowClan," Weaselstar mewed. "Today..." She paused. That didn't feel right. Her Clan was staring up at her like she was a spectacle. The brown molly hopped back down. "Aw, forget it. You can hear me better from here, yeah? Today is a big deal to me, and I hope you all feel the same. ShadowClan hasn't had a warrior ceremony since before any of our parents were born. The fact that I can stand here today and pretend to know what I'm doing is just... amazing."

Birchfoot pushed to the front of the group, dipping his head. "I'm honored to be here. Didn't really expect my life to go this way, but it's nice here. Smells nice. Good kids. Weird, but good."

Ratpaw shot out in front of him, whiskers fuzzing with excitement. "He said yes!"

"Shh!" called Pinethroat. "It's not your time yet, young'un."

"He's allowed," Bumblepaw replied, trying to keep her face a bit more neutral. That might've meant something if her front paws weren't tapdancing in front of her.

Weaselstar gave them both a smile, then looked to their mentor. "Birchfoot, are Bumblepaw and Ratpaw ready to be warriors?"

"Sure are. Kicked my tail in training today, and they caught birds bigger'n them."

She nodded. The reek of sap was back, stronger than ever, and she knew Beethroat was watching. " I, Weaselstar, leader of ShadowClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you in turn. Bumblepaw, Ratpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

"You make it sound like a question," Bumblepaw meowed.

Ratpaw eagerly bobbed his head up and down. "This is all I've ever wanted."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior names. Bumblepaw, from this moment on you will be known as Bumblestorm. StarClan honors your passion and honesty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan."

Bumblestorm let out an excited squeal, wriggling from her ears to her tail as Weaselstar rested her nose on the new warrior's head. She licked her shoulder and stepped away, puffing out her chest.

"Ratpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Ratfoot. StarClan honors your intelligence and inquisitive nature, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ShadowClan."

Something like peace settled in Ratfoot's eyes as they traded pleasantries. Perhaps, in another world, he would've been named after Smokescar. Weaselstar couldn't blame him for just being happy to avoid that fate. The black tom turned to his mentor with excitement in his frazzled pelt. Birchfoot purred and nuzzled him.

Weaselstar threw back her head and yowled. "Bumblestorm! Ratfoot!"

ShadowClan joined in, booming the names as loud as they could. The new warriors traded a look before pouncing, knocking Weaselstar to the ground with an oof. She couldn't help but laugh as their whiskers tickled her face.

"You lucky foxes!" Hootpaw cried, tackling the tacklers. They all fell into a heap along the side. "It'll be our turn next, so just you wait! My snoring won't escape you forever!"

Bumblestorm swooned and flopped onto her side, as if the mere idea wounded her. Hootpaw mock-gasped and bowled her over.

Ashpaw gingerly helped her to her paws, whiskers quivering. "Will we get to pick names?" he asked, voice low. "Since- since they did?"

Weaselstar looked at him a moment, considering. What did it hurt? Warriors could request names all the time, for various reasons- to be named for wounds, or for warriors who had died, or for family. Letting them have a choice would only make the ceremonies more meaningful. "Sure."

"Nice," he meowed, and left it at that.

Author's Note: First warrior ceremony! I've been really excited for this one.

Believe it or not, I've actually had a lot of back and forth concepts for Ratfoot's name! Originally he was going to be Ratwhisker, but it felt a bit odd with Squirrelwhisker having no real dynamic with him. I considered Ratfur or Ratpelt, but that didn't feel right. Ratheart sounded like an insult. I even considered Ratpoppy (but, again, Flintpoppy) and Ratflower. But Ratfoot just fits, I think- a solid name for a solid, even-tempered little guy.

-Mandaree1