Graystripe feels as if he has only slept for just a moment when he wakes. A cool breeze ruffles his fur. The rain has stopped. Above, the sky is filled with billowing white clouds. For a moment he is confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he becomes aware of the sound of mewing voices and Sandstorm laying beside him along with Longtail. Recognizing Smallear's trembling mew, he pricks his ear to listen to the old tom.
"I told you Starclan would show their anger!" The elder complains. "Our home is gone; the forest is no more."
"Bluestar should have appointed the deputy before Moonhigh," One-eye frets, "It's the custom!"
Leaping to his paws, his ears burning, but before he can say anything Cinderpelt's mew rises into the air.
"How can you be so ungrateful?! Graystripe carried you across the river, Smallear!"
"He nearly drowned me," Smallear rasps, annoyed.
"You'd be dead if he left you behind," spits Cinderpelt, "If Graystripe hadn't smelt the smoke in the first place we might all be dead!"
"I'm sure Patchpelt, Halftail, and Yellowfang are deeply grateful to him."
His fur ripples at Darkstripe's sarcastic mew.
"Yellowfang will thank him herself when we find her," Cinderpelt hisses.
"Find her?" echoes Darkstripe, scorn evident in his mew, "There's no way she'll have escaped that fire. Graystripe should never have allowed her to go back to the camp."
Cinderpelt growls deeply in her throat. Darkstirpe has gone too far. Padding quickly to the shadows, seeing Fernpaw sitting beside her mentor, her eyes filled with horror as she looks at the dark tabby.
Opening his mouth to speak, he is surprised when Dustpelt speaks up, "Darkstripe! You should show more respect for your lost clanmates, and"-he glances sympathetically at the frightened Fernpaw- "be more careful with what you say. Our clanmates have suffered enough already."
Taken aback by the young warrior challenging his former mentor he watches as Darkstripe looks at Dustpelt equally surprised, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
Stepping forward quickly, he mews quietly before any more fighting can be done, "Dustpelt's right. We shouldn't be arguing."
Darkstripe, Smallear and the others whip around to stare at him, their tails flicking awkwardly as they realize he has heard their conversation.
"Graystripe." The ancient mew of the Riverclan leader interrupts them, and he sees Crookedstar's fur is damp from the river.
"Have you been on patrol?" He asks the tom, turning away from the Thunderclan cats as he pads over to the Riverclan leader.
"Yes. And hunting. It has been a while since I have been on patrol but with extra mouths to feed I felt an extra warrior was needed today."
"Thank you."
"It felt quite good to be out of camp. Now come with me." Crookedstar leads him to a fresh-kill pile near the edge of the clearing. "This is for your clan. How are they doing?"
"They're doing fine," he replies, his belly growling with hunger. "Thanks for the prey. I'd better let the clan know."
"Of course."
He turns away from the Riverclan leader, and walks over to where the Thunderclan cats are gathered. "Crookedstar says that pile of food is for us," he announces, flicking his tail to where the pile is.
"Thank Starclan," Goldenflower mews gratefully.
"We don't need another clan to feed us." sneers Darkstripe.
"I suppose you can hunt if you want," he meows, narrowing his eyes on the tabby warrior. "But you will need to ask Crookedstar's permission first. It is his territory."
Darkstripe snorts impatiently and pads toward the fresh-kill pile. Glancing over at Bluestar, the news of food hasn't aroused her at all.
Whitestorm twitches his ears, "I'll make sure everyone gets a share."
"Thank you."
Turning back to the Riverclan leader he asks, "Would you like to see Featherkit and Stormkit? I can eat a piece of fresh-kill while we visit…"
"No, I must not taint their loyalties to Thunderclan."
"You're Silverstream's father. My kits Grandfather. I want them to know who had a paw in making their mother as beautiful and stunning and they will need to learn the truth sometime."
The ancient leader sighs, but mews, "I will see them. Truth is, I have wanted to see them for a long time, but I was worried…" He trails off, shaking his light brown tabby pelt.
Graystripe flicks his tail for the leader to follow him after picking a mouse for himself off of the generous fresh-kill pile Riverclan has provided. As they approach a purr rises from his throat as Goldenflower watches her's and his kits scuffle around in the Earth. When his kits notice him he drops the mouse as they jump onto him, and he rolls over happily, batting the kits with gentle paws as they climb over him.
Purring loudly, he meows, "How did you I was coming?"
"We smelled you," answers Featherkit.
"Very good," he praises his daughter.
Looking at both of them as they've settled down, snuggling against his pelt he mews, "There's some cat I would like you to meet. They knew your mother."
Stormkit asks, "But isn't Goldernflower our mother, and Bramblekit and Twanykit are littermates?"
Goldenflower purrs at the complement, but gently corrects the gray kit, "No. But I love you as you are my own kits. Silverstream is your mother. A pretty Riverclan cat your father Graystripe loved very much. But she died in your kitting."
"We're Halfclan? Is that why the other cats give us looks."
Graystripe licks Feathkit's head, "Yes. But they will time forget and you will be true Thunderclan warriors."
Stormkit squeals, "So who's this cat who knows our mother?"
Looking at the Riverclan Leader, he answers, "Her father. Crookedstar."
"Hello kits. Featherkit you look exactly like Silverstream. She would be proud of you both."
Featherkit peeks at Crookedstar from his back, "Can you tell us about our mother?"
Bramblekit yowls, "Yeah. I want to know about Silverstream!"
Goldenflower purrs, "But she's not your mother, I am."
"I know. But she gave me and Tawnykit super awesome littermates to play with, even if we aren't connected by blood. So I wanna know!"
"So do I!" Tawnykit mews, puffing up her tiny chest.
Graystripe purrs at his kits foster littermates' kindness and willingness to know about their mother. They are good friends to each other. He's glad they have each other like he had Ravenpaw and Fireheart. Rain begins to drop from the sky, but they are in a sheltered spot. He listens to Crookedstar's stories about Silverstream with an aching fondness for the she-cat.