"Larchkit?" Mapledawn sniffed around her nest, confused. She was still half-asleep. She didn't remember much of her dream, only the tang of blood and a sickly sweet welling of grief in her chest. "Petalkit?" Where were they? She felt Patchkit snuggled up against her belly and Appledusk curled around her, but where were her other kits?
Except that wasn't Appledusk. He'd never met the kits. He'd never been a father. Waiting Falcon blinked open his blue eyes and licked the top of her head.
"Larchkit," she mewed hoarsely. "Where is he?"
"It's only a dream," Waiting Falcon murmured. "Go back to sleep."
Mapledawn did, and her dreams this time were full of hateful eyes and starry pelts. Come back to us, Mapleshade, a voice called. Remember who you were.
She woke with a start to find the Lesser Oak Cash cast in a bluish haze. It was just before sunrise; light seeped through patchy clouds. She could see Mist Shadow curled up by the herb gardens. Cinders and her kits snored and twitched in the nest across from hers. She could just barely spot Lark's Call's creamy brown fur in a patch of grass to her left. The she-cat always seemed to prefer sleeping alone.
Larchkit… Petalkit. Mapledawn sighed and went to work grooming her fur. I hope you're safe in Gray Wing's stars.
She froze mid-lick. Something had woken her. It wasn't the nightmare; those were as familiar as her pelt. She covered the sleeping Patchkit with her tail and froze, listening. A branch cracked to her right.
Mapledawn turned, claws unsheathed, ready to rip the pelt off of whatever creature was sneaking up to her nest.
"Good, you're awake. She's awake!"
Mapledawn relaxed a little, but didn't unsheathe her claws, when she realized it was just one of the newcomers, Pig. He was a big, brown cat with short fur. Butter, a pale torbie she-cat, and Billy, a gray tabby with long fur, crouched behind him, their heads bent low—out of respect or embarrassment, Mapledawn couldn't tell.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you," she snarled, "not to sneak up on a sleeping queen?"
"Sorry." Pig waved his tail jocularly over his back, not looking at all sorry. "We just wanted to talk to you. Yew droned on and on all night about how cool you were, and about the vicious forest cats to the west."
"West?" Mapledawn tilted her head.
"West!" Pig grinned. "The direction the sun sets. It rises in the east."
"O-kay. Let me guess." Mapledawn stretched out in her nest. Pig was openly staring at her throat scar. It was as healed as it would ever be. When she ran her paw across it, she could feel the hard, jagged flesh where no fur would ever grow again. "You want to hear horror stories about eating cat bones or fighting lions." Pig perked up. "Or," she said, unsheathing her long, sharp claws to clean between her pads, "you think you want to become a warrior."
Pig waved his tail again. Billy's eyes, pale blue, almost gray, glimmered in the pre-dawn light.
"Sorry, Pig." Mapledawn jabbed his big belly with a claw. "We don't take kittypets in the Clans. You look like you couldn't kill a pinkie mouse."
"Kittypets?" Butter said softly. "We've never belonged to people, ma'am."
Ma'am? Mapledawn wondered. What in StarClan is a ma'am?
"We're wanderers," said Billy. "Ferals. Street cats." Billy and Butter stepped out of the shadows.
"So you're rogues," Mapledawn said. "Even worse. The Clans live by a strict code, kitties. You think we take in any starry-eyed rouge that wanders into our dens?" She laughed. The permanent rasp to her voice made it sound decidedly sinister. "We'd sooner take your pelts for our nests."
She appraised them silently. Though Pig looked like he was downright obese, Mapledawn could tell at least half of that was muscle. Butter had soft fur, soft, yellow eyes, and a soft voice; but she was a sturdy cat, not quite as muscled as a typical FireClan warrior, but not as lean as a TallClan cat, either. And Billy's luxurious—expertly, maybe obsessively, groomed—pelt hid hard muscle and lean features. These cats were no stranger to hard lives. She wouldn't be surprised if they'd battled as many cats as her. They only seemed soft because they were young. Older than me, probably, she realized, but young by Clan standards, maybe twenty four moons. Young and idealistic. Billy might be older. Or he's just a very mature cat.
"Waiting Falcon," she whispered, nudging the big tabby awake.
"Mmm?" he purred groggily.
"Watch Patchkit?"
"Any time," he said, blinking awake. He stretched out, took Patchkit gently by the scruff, and put him on top of his big, furry paws. Patchkit mewed onerously, his little pink mouth flashing, but quickly quieted and started batting at Waiting Falcon's chest with clumsy paws.
"Come with me," Mapledawn said to the cats. She headed for the Rat Grounds. She stopped at the edge and curled her tail over her paws. "Take my advice," she said as Pig, Butter, and Billy filed in behind her. "Stay here with the Clearpool cats. Life is easy here. Good food, good company, and always something to do. You like helping cats? Mist Shadow will teach you herbs. You like kits? There's always a queen or two here. You like hunting? There's plenty of game. Like wandering? Well, go ahead. You can come back any time."
"Yeah," said Butter, "but—"
"This is a resting place," Billy said. "A nice den you stop at on your way… Somewhere." He came up to her side. "We're looking for a home, ma'am. A place we can find…"
"Purpose?" she offered. "Family?"
"Exactly," said Billy.
"You could make a home here," Mapledawn said. "There's nothing wrong with this place." Who am I trying to convince? Them or me?
"Just tell us about the Clans," Pig pleaded. "Please? Which one are you from? Do you really eat other cats?"
Mapledawn chuckled. "Even the most rotten Clan cats don't do that," she said. "The Clans started countless moons ago, so the legends say, when a few starving cats made their great journey from the sky down to the forests and fields in search of a better home. They, and rouges like you, settled the old Clans, far away from here. Windstar, the fast and cantankerous. Riverstar, the patient. Thunderstar, the strong and loyal. Shadowstar, the mysterious… Now we call ourselves FireClan, TallClan, CrookedClan, and BlackClan, after the leaders who shaped our Clans into what they are now."
Mapledawn told them legends and stories well into morning. Everyone had questions; what do they eat? Had she ever had "cooked" food? Which Clan came first? Were they always at war? How were names chosen? What were medicine cats? How did StarClan work? With her Mapleshade and Mapledawn memories combined, she could answer most of their questions.
"Mist Shadow is like a medicine cat," Mapledawn explained. "Medicine cats are healers. They read omens, too. On the rare occasions StarClan does speak to living cats, they usually go to the medicine cats." Or the reborn souls of cats they really want to torture. "Medicine cats used to be banned from having mates or kits long, long ago. Our ancient leader, Squirrelstar, realized that was a barbaric rule. Now they can have kits so long as there's more than one medicine cat in the Clan. Although medicine cats much prefer to leave their kits, if they have them, with Clan nursery queens… And it's rare for them to take mates. They're just too busy."
"I do not think I'd like that," said Pig, sticking out his tongue.
Mapledawn laughed. "Me neither." She flicked her ears to the far edge of Rat Grounds. "Hear that rat? How would you kill it?"
"Rats are easy," said Pig. "Just jump on them!"
"Ah, but this is a rat den. They could swarm you."
"So?" said Butter.
"Never underestimate you prey," Mapledawn said. "A swarm of rats can, and will, kill a cat."
"So we have to be stealthy," Billy said. "And…" He looked at her questioningly.
"And work as a team." Her ears followed the sound of the rat, hidden, for now, in tall grass. "Follow my lead. Pig, when I flick my tail like this, rush toward the rat. Butter, Billy, stalk it from there—" she pointed— "and there."
"We're going to surround it?" Butter whispered.
Mapledawn nodded and dropped into a hunter's crouch, keeping her tail off the ground. Butter and Billy easily copied her; Pig needed a few pointers, but he caught on quickly enough. Pig looped around to come from the left ( west, I guess, she thought), Butter from the east, Billy from the opposite side of rat grounds, and Mapledawn straight from the Lesser Oak Crash. Every time the rat went silent, she flicked her tail to the side to tell the others to halt. They followed her movements, their ears pricked, and took small, tentative steps, testing each pawstep for noise before they moved. Within moments, they had the rat surrounded. She signaled Pig to flush it. He ran yowling for the rat, which pelted straight toward the three waiting cats. Mapledawn pinned it down by the shoulders. It was a big, brown beast; she pushed down on it to cut off its frantic squeaks.
"You do the honors," she told Billy. He tried to take the whole rat in his jaws. She shook her head and pointed to its throat.
"Oh," he said, and clamped his jaws around the rat's neck. He shook it fiercely until Mapledawn heard a snap.
"Let's get out of here," Mapledawn whispered. Just as she'd expected, the other rats were starting to leave their holes toward the cats. "Run."
They pelted back toward the Lesser Oak Crash. Mapledawn turned sharply to the east and started zigzagging; Butter, Billy, and then Pig followed her. She ran in loping paths, then doubled back.
"Why?" Pig panted, "did you do that?"
"Confuse the rats," she mewed, "in case they tried to follow us back. Predator, prey, or trespasser, never lead an enemy straight for camp."
Billy nodded solemnly. "I understand," he said between his mouthful of rat.
"Ma'am," said Butter—
"What is that? What does that mean?" Mapledawn interjected.
"It's something humans say," Billy mewed. "When they talked to another human they respect."
"Oh." Mapledawn licked her chest. "Just call me Mapledawn, please."
"Cool name!" Pig said. "Is that what all warrior names are like? Do you get to pick your own? Could I be called Razortooth?"
"Sort of, no, and probably not."
"I'd call you Pigbelly," said Butter with a sneer.
"And what exactly is a pig?"
"It's a big, fat animal, bigger than ten cats combined, that does nothing but eat."
"Just like me," Pig said.
Mapledawn stifled a purr. I'd call him Loudpaw, or Heavypaw. Butter would be Softpaw, maybe Littlepaw… Billy would probably be Longfur. No, Burrfur… Burrpelt… I bet he'd never let a burr stay in that glossy pelt for more than a second!
Mapledawn said her goodbyes to the tree eager newcomers when she heard Patchkit mewling for his milk. "Share your catch with Cinders," she called back to Billy. She curled up around Patchkit and kneaded the soft nest while he kneaded her belly for milk. Waiting Falcon bathed her silently, his purrs rumbling in time with hers.
"You miss the Clans," he said softly after a while. "You can't pretend you don't."
Mapledawn rubbed her cheek against his. "Of course I do," she said. "I have always been a FireClan can. I don't know how to be anything else."
"I'll come with you, Maple." Waiting Falcon licked her cheek.
"I know," Mapledawn purred. "But it's not time yet."
"Not quite yet," said Waiting Falcon. He pricked his tufted ears and stared at something to the west, his eyes glimmering strangely. "I think there will be trouble here before we can leave…" He shook his head. "But we'll be okay, won't we?" he said to Patchkit. "You're mother's a fighter, little one, just like you."
Mapledawn settled in for the day. Waiting Falcon hunted; she ate; Raven asked her for stories; Yew came to see how she was (and talked both of her ears off); and the newcomers hunted by themselves and dropped a couple of mice by her nest, calling her, again, "ma'am."
As day turned to evening, and fat clouds boiled out from the horizon, their bellies full of thunder, Patchkit opened his eyes and looked at her. They were kit-blue, wide, and gentle.
"Merble?" he said.
"Is he saying 'Maple?'" she asked Waiting Falcon, her chest tight with emotion. "Maple? That's me, little one."
"Merble!" he mewed. "Merble. Merble!"
Raven practically jumped out of his fur in his excitement. "His eyes opened! They're so pretty! Hi! I'm Raven!"
"Ray-ben," Patchkit mewed, frowning. " Raven."
"He can't say my name," Mapledawn purred, "but he can say yours."