MISTKIT
They were warriors, and this was their battleground. She stalked around the ferns, belly low to the earth, practically tasting blood in her throat.
With her best yowl, she launched herself at her enemy, a lump of black and brown spotted fur. Kestrelkit collapsed under her with an 'oof!' and a shrill wail of complaint.
"Mistkit! Enough of that in the nursery!" one of the queens snapped, yellow eyes glowing in the den's half-light. Mousespots was not her mother, but she had nursed them since their mother and her own litter were gone. Gone far away to StarClan, which was as far as a cat could get from LeafClan.
Mother or not, she scrambled off Kestrelkit's back, quick to obey.
"Yeah! Fight me fairly!" Kestrelkit whined.
It was Mistkit's turn to say 'oof!' as Cloverkit flumped onto her back, copying the same maneuver she'd used against Kestrelkit. "Hey! Geddoff! Not fair!"
"I'm Rosestar, leader of LeafClan, and you're on my territory!" Cloverkit said, lowering her voice to try and match Rosestar's leaderly timbre.
"I said I wanted to be Rosestar first! You gotta be him last time!" Mistkit raged, trying to surge to her paws and fling her attacker off, to no avail.
"Don't fight at all here!" Not-Mother growled. The nursery was in the heart of a bramble thicket that formed one of the camp walls, warm and stuffy, with cozy feather-lined nests of moss and heather. "There are other, more delicate kits here besides you. And very tired queens who need their rest."
"I am not delicate!" another small voice cried. That was Tansykit, Rooktuft's only kit. She was the oldest kit in the nursery, bigger than Mistkit or her littermates, and her golden fur was flat and smooth like a warrior's. Her mother had already returned to the warrior's den, leaving Tansykit to sleep in her own nest.
"Of course not you, Tansykit," Mousespots sighed.
Mistkit thought she caught a gleam of amusement from the other side of the den, where the other queens were nestled in their nests.
One was a small brown-gray she-cat, three kits pawing at her belly. Only one was her own; Bluekit, a scrap of bluish-gray fur who still had his blue eyes. Swiftkit and Quailkit were noticeably bigger, yet not so old as Mistkit and her littermates. Their mother had gone to StarClan too.
The other was a pretty young queen with pale gray fur, and she had no milk-scent on her. Ivyflower didn't have any of her own kits yet, but she was kindly and fun, and Rosestar's mate. Causing any annoyance for her might as well have been against the warrior code. She seemed to watch the kits' banter with masked levity.
The last queen was a dappled brown she-cat with white paws and a white belly, blue eyes and a pink nose, but she was named for her scars. Her scars were the only thing one could really notice, the longer they stared at her. The way one eye seemed to be shaped differently from the other, the odd way her snout seemed to fold over itself.
All the other queens had told them that Longscar got her name for fighting a fox that crept into the nursery many moons before they were born, and that she deserved special honor and respect—and to never, ever make comments. She had no more kits either, the eldest of all the queens in the nursery, but when she spoke, the rest of the nursery obeyed.
"How about you play in camp?" Longscar suggested with a twitch of her whiskers. "And take turns choosing who gets to be Rosestar."
"Yes," Mousespots seconded with a lash of her tail. "Just please don't get under any cat's paws?"
Camp! Mistkit whipped her tail with excitement. Exploring camp, by themselves? With no one else to watch them? Was that really okay?
"Tansykit, why don't you go with them?" Longscar suggested.
"Okay," the golden kit said with a sigh. "But I'm going to be an apprentice soon. I really shouldn't be seen playing dumb kit-games."
"But you're not an apprentice," Mousespots cut in. "You're still a kit. Enjoy it while it lasts."
Tansykit had no rebuttal for that, and soon the four kits were poking their heads out from the mouth of the nursery. She went first, and then Mistkit, and Kestrelkit, and Cloverkit, bounding out into the green clearing.
The fresh forest air stirred her coat and filled her senses. The familiar scents she caught off the pelts of visiting warriors, like Nightbird and Squirreltail when they stopped in to share tongues with their mates, were all around her now.
Everywhere she looked, there were cats. Her clanmates. It was sunhigh, with most of the Clan gathered in the clearing, soaking in the warmth of greenleaf.
LeafClan camp was a green hollow between two hills thick with ferns and briars. That same bramble thicket that made up the nursery also made up the warrior and apprentice dens, although they'd never know it from the inside.
The far side of camp was shaded with trees and low shrubs, but the Hollow Ash was the centerpiece of it all. It was a massive, ancient tree with clubby branches, where Rosestar spoke at every Clan meeting. He slept there in the heart of the tree; Mistkit knew Ivyflower sometimes left the nursery to stay there with him.
Stars above, what she'd give to peek inside! She craned her head up, up, up to see the crown of the Ash.
A weight crashing into her side made her forget all about it. Kestrelkit bowled her over while she wasn't looking, sending her tumbling into the grass.
"Ha! I got you!" Kestrelkit gloated, only for Cloverkit to pull the same stunt in his moment of triumph. Soon all three of them were tumbling together through the grass.
Soon enough, Mistkit was clambering to the top of the pile with a trill of victory, but it passed like a hawk's shadow.
With a squeal, Cloverkit went darting out from under them, white tail streaming behind her. Watching the swish of movement, she felt some dormant instinct stir inside her, and all Mistkit knew was that she had to chase her down.
Mistkit went pelting after her, right on her paws, hearing Kestrelkit and Tansykit close behind. Blood roaring in her ears, she lunged, paws outstretched.
Again, grass and dirt and sky seemed to blur as they rolled, coming to an abrupt stop against what felt like a skinny root underneath her spine.
A loud yowl made all four kits jump to their paws, fur bushed out. That skinny root, it seemed, was Boulderstep's tail.
The warrior was huge, tall and broad-shouldered. And he wasn't the only warrior looking down at them; Owlswoop, Hawkwing, and Elderheart, the Clan deputy. They were all gathered near the fresh-kill pile.
We're going to be in trouble!
She felt a spike of ice in her chest, but the warriors' faces betrayed no annoyance.
"Whose kits are tearing up my camp today?" Elderheart mewed flatly. His gray-brown tabby pelt was seasoned with old battle scars and a muzzle silvered with age. He was Bluekit's father, and his scent was more familiar than the others. "Did Shrewnose finally banish you from the nursery?"
"S-sorry, Boulderstep! Elderheart!" Cloverkit squeaked. "It was Mistkit's fault!"
Mistkit cuffed her littermate over the ears with a light paw. "Shut up! No it wasn't!"
"Sunpaw!" the deputy called out, letting his voice ring over camp. In the leafy shade outside the apprentice's den, a reddish golden tom perked his head up with a lazy flick of his ears. "I have a special task for you."
They could see the apprentice visibly deflate as he peeled himself off from his resting spot with a long, quivering stretch. He padded over with some hesitance, watching through half-lidded golden eyes.
"Since Goosebelly decided his nap was more important than training you at the Father's Oak with the other apprentices," Elderheart started, "I think I know how to keep you busy. Watch these kits, keep them entertained, and keep them out of Murkpool's den. We don't want another yarrow incident."
"Will anyone forget the yarrow thing?" Sunpaw complained with a flick of his ears and roll of his shoulders. "I was a kit. A curious, adorable, little kit. Like these ones."
"An especially mischievous little kit," Hawkwing mewed. "Who grew into an especially mischievous littleapprentice."
"Well, I'm certainly not little," Sunpaw huffed. "Must I?"
"Oh, was I interrupting something important?" Elderheart said with a twitch of his whiskers. "Your denmates are training or on patrol; you're not doing anything. I'll give you the choice between that and helping Deadnose with her fleas."
That seemed to settle it. The apprentice padded off with the four kits weaving around him in circles.
"Yay! Sunpaw's going to play with us!" Kestrelkit squealed. The apprentice looked around at them all in turn, looking as if he'd almost preferred Deadnose's fleas.
He lashed his tail as he started to speak. "Listen, let's not get too—"
But Tansykit and Cloverkit were already clawing at his haunches, trying to pull themselves onto the older cat's back.
"For LeafClan!"
Sunpaw really was just a big kit in the end. When they killed him, he flopped over, dead, tongue lolled out and eyes wide. Then he was back up again, for them to kill him over and over. He even did the voices.
"LeafClan dungfaces!" he'd wheeze, paws curled like a smashed spider as he flipped onto his back, defeated once again. "I'll show you…! Ack!"
LeafClan always won.
By the time the sun began to descend over the treetops again, casting long shadows across LeafClan camp, they were all heaving and exhausted. Now they laid together in the cool shade, watching their clanmates do their daily routines. Sunpaw answered all their questions.
"How is Elderheart an elder and a deputy at the same time?" Cloverkit asked.
"He's not an elder, mouse-brain. He's just old."
"But his name is Elderheart," Cloverkit said with consternation. "Was he always old?"
"You know, maybe," Sunpaw said. "He's always been old to me. But I'm guessing it's because his fur looks like the bark of an elder tree. That's why he was named that."
"Why do they call them elder trees?" Mistkit mewed. "Are they just old too?"
"I don't know."
So many things like that. Sunpaw really knew a lot, and everyone knew he didn't know a lot for an apprentice. When she was an apprentice, she was going to know so much more!
"Hawkwing is a real stickler," Sunpaw explained as they went on, gesturing to the brown and gray tabby across camp. "Don't let him catch you having too much fun, or Elderheart. And Rowanthorn's the worst out of all of them."
"What makes Rowanthorn so bad?" Kestrelkit squeaked.
"He's as fun as a headache, with the personality of a rock. All 'code' this and 'duty' that. I think he only knows how to speak in cliches." Sunpaw swished his tail. "And he's my father."
"My mother said you are the laziest, most unreliable apprentice in the Clan!" Tansykit said, to the titter of the other kits.
"Rooktuft said that?" Sunpaw couldn't look more unbothered, lazily rolling his head. "I'm not lazy, I just don't waste my energy like the others do. That makes me smart."
"She said your mentor's the exact same way!"
The mention of his mentor seemed to brighten something in Sunpaw's eyes. "Goosebelly is lazy. No good at anything. He's too fat to even chase his own tail."
Mistkit giggled with the other kits.
"If we see him, we'll ask him to tell a story," Sunpaw continued. "He's full of stories. Only half of them are half true, the rest are total lies. But they're really good stories."
Just then, there were more cats streaming through the bramble tunnel. Sparrowflight and Beethorn, two small tabby she-cats, and Paleface, a handsome white tom with mismatched eyes. Behind them were their apprentices; Nettlepaw, Sorrelpaw, and Dovepaw.
Nettlepaw cast a glance Sunpaw's way, blue eyes immediately lighting up with mockery. He was one of Mousespots' true kits, born at the end of the last leaf-bare. "Did they finally send you back to the nursery, Sunpaw?"
"Yeah, I was just in there sharing tongues with your mother. We're getting very close."
Those blue eyes blazed with icy fury now, but Sparrowflight just roughly shouldered her apprentice.
"Flatten your fur, Nettlepaw, or I'll send you to change those kits' nests. Half of them still haven't learned where the dirtplace is."
Nettlepaw's tail kinked with obvious agitation, but he padded off side by side with Dovepaw toward the fresh-kill pile. Their words were unintelligible from where they were, but they could hear their laughter again soon enough as they went to share a plump squirrel.
Mistkit looked up at Sunpaw again, more questions ready to bubble out of her throat, but the apprentice stood up abruptly.
"Come on, let's go check out the elder's den," Sunpaw said. "They're always good for some entertainment."
The elder's den was a low scoop of earth around the roots of an ancient hawthorn tree. The bright, spiky leaves had finally lost the last of the red berries that appeared during early greenleaf. Inside, it was warm and musty, almost like the nursery.
"Ah, if it isn't Sunkit!" a hunched ginger tabby tom mewed. That was Threefoot. Even from where he was curled up, Mistkit could see how his hind leg stuck out across the floor at an awkward angle. "Lionpelt, your son is visiting us."
"Sunpaw," Lionpelt corrected. The long-haired golden tom purred, dipping his head in greeting. "And he's my son's son, not mine."
"Oh my, oh my, of course," Threefoot babbled. "Yes, yes, of course, Sunpaw. Forgive my old sun-baked mind, Sunkit. Yes, I remember. You were just in here not too long ago to get Deadnose's ticks, yes. As a punishment, yes. What did you do now?"
"Nothing," Sunpaw said. "We just wanted to visit."
"Oh, how delightful! Young Rowanpaw yearns to hear an elder's wisdom," Threefoot purred. "See, Lionpelt, you've raised a fine young apprentice. He will make a fine warrior. A fine warrior."
"Yes, he will," Lionpelt said without correcting him.
Mistkit blinked at Tansykit and her littermates in confusion.
The white-furred elder next to Threefoot had ragged, battle-torn ears and a long scar that sealed one eye shut. Close-eye tilted her head with a sigh of disappointment.
"So you mean you're not getting our fleas?" she asked.
"No!" Sunpaw was quick to say.
There was another dark tortoiseshell in a lumpy nest of feathers and fresh moss, but Mistkit couldn't tell if the elder was awake or asleep. Deadnose's eyes were half-slitted open, tongue poking between her teeth, a low wheeze coming out of her throat.
"Is she alive?" Kestrelkit gasped.
Deadnose answered with some sort of low, garbled meow. Or perhaps she was snoring.
"So, what is it we can do for you little ones?" Lionpelt said warmly, looking down at each of the kits. He had broad shoulders, a large head and face full of old scars, and huge paws. There was an air to him unlike the other elders. It wasn't so long ago that he was still a warrior.
"We wanted to hear a story!" Mistkit said, to the eager agreement of the other kits.
"A story about Rosestar!" Cloverkit added.
"Hmm," Close-eye said with a thoughtful pause. "I think you know most of Rosestar's stories. But how about a different leader of LeafClan? The greatest that ever lived."
A different leader? Who else could be leader of LeafClan except Rosestar?
"Tell us, tell us!" they all seemed to squeal in unison.
"Gather around then. Let us tell you all about Stormstar."
She told them all about the leader before Rosestar. How he was as big as a lion, and when he was leader of LeafClan, they hunted in every corner of the forest. All the other Clans were afraid of them and ran away from their hunting patrols.
"I thought it was against the warrior code to hunt in other Clan's territories," Mistkit said.
"It is," Close-eye said. "But when Stormstar was leader, it was okay."
That didn't make much sense to Mistkit, but it didn't have to. Soon her head was filled ear to ear with old battles and heroic feats. Stormstar and his deputy, Blackfang, who could fight a troop of foxes all by himself and come out laughing and covered in gore. They could leap across gorges and jump from tree to tree like squirrels.
He never became leader, but if he had, he'd have been the greatest leader since Stormstar.
"And did you know that Lionpelt was Blackfang's littermate, and Stormstar's kit?" Close-eye added to a chorus of gasps.
"You used to be a kit?!" Cloverkit exclaimed.
"A very, very long time ago," Lionpelt purred. "They were great warriors, and I was lucky enough to be Stormstar's apprentice."
"Was he really as big as a lion?" Mistkit asked.
"Well…"
"Tell them about the battle, Lionpelt," Close-eye insisted.
Threefoot's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, yes, the great battle against MeadowClan…!"
The kits were practically on their paws now, jumping up and down. The battle? What battle? They loved battles!
"Tell us, tell us!"
Lionpelt held up his tail for silence. The kits sat back down, ears pricked, heads held high, all their eyes trained on the long-haired elder. Even Sunpaw earnestly leaned forward.
"It was after a late greenleaf storm. MeadowClan doesn't live in forest like us, but in green fields and Twoleg farmland. The skies were all black; the rain had turned all the fields to mud. Stormstar was leading his warriors through their hunting grounds when we turned and saw a MeadowClan raiding party coming straight for us, crossing the fields in the distance.
"There were three MeadowClan warriors for every one of us. They have always been the largest Clan, and the most dangerous."
"More dangerous than LeafClan?" Tansykit scoffed.
"Not that day." Lionpelt seemed to look somewhere farther off, his eyes taking a distant expression. "We climbed up this muddy hill. I could barely dig in my paws; I must have slipped a hundred times. We were all brown all over from falling in the mud. Then Stormstar turned to Blackfang, just a warrior back then. We had only received our warrior names the moon before.
"Stormstar said: 'Hold this hill with your life.' Then he ordered the other warriors to retreat."
"Stormstar said that to Blackfang?" Sunpaw said incredulously. "That's like ordering him to die!"
"Elderheart and I thought the same. We told Stormstar we wouldn't leave our brother behind. He said he would let us stay, but he saw differently. He said: 'You're going to earn your warrior names.'
"The MeadowClan warriors were at the bottom of the hill now, charging up and up. Swanstar, their leader in those days, was leading. Blackfang charged down the hill by himself like a mad badger. We just had to charge after him, but he flung those MeadowClan warriors around like they were kits. The muddy grass turned dark with blood, dead and wounded cats sliding down the hill—"
Mistkit could hear the battle cries in her ears, feel the cold, slick mud under her paws and hard rain against her pelt.
"Blackfang grabbed Swanstar himself, and they fought claw and tooth, until Swanstar went sliding down too. His white fur was half crimson. Me, I nicked my ear and snagged out half my claws, until I had to use my teeth just to draw blood. All the MeadowClan cats turned tail and began to flee, and that's when Stormstar appeared at the bottom of the hill with the rest of our warriors. He circled around while we fought to trap them."
"Then what happened?" Kestrelkit said, tail upright.
Lionpelt's eyes were somewhere distant. His story lapsed into sudden silence, lingering a full heartbeat too long.
"Then there was a great LeafClan victory," Close-eye finished for him. "Yes, the greatest LeafClan victory I've ever heard of."
"Yes, yes," Threefoot warbled. "It was a great victory. A very great victory."
"Why were we on MeadowClan territory though?" Sunpaw asked.
Lionpelt was still silent, but some shouts outside drew all the cats' attention away. The long-haired elder stood in his nest, tasting the air.
"Blood and fear-scent," Lionpelt said, his hackles upright now.
"I sense it too," Close-eye said.
The elders, kits, and apprentice all emerged into the camp, the forest painted in dusk colors. Warriors, apprentices, and queens were all in the clearing, exchanging looks and meows. She could see Rosestar at the foot of the Ash, flanked by she-cats whispering in his ear—Larkfeather, Briarstalk, and Greeneyes.
Evidently, they had all sensed what the elders had sensed. Mistkit still stared around the older warriors for answers, eyes wide with confusion.
A long wail pierced the air, sending a bolt of fear down Mistkit's spine, flurries of birds fluttering out of the treetops.
It was Longscar screaming as warriors came through the bramble tunnel, dragging a body between them. A russet furred tom who always poked his head in the nursery to share tongues with his mate, and bring in moss balls for the kits.
Leopoardfoot and Asterstripe laid the body down in the clearing, with Splitears and Rooktuft behind them, and then another cat. Rowanthorn, face full of anguish.
"Squirreltail is murdered!"
AN: Thank you for clicking! This is my first time writing or publishing fanfiction, and it's not something I ever saw myself doing. This is my first time uploading to this site and there may be some formatting mistakes. Pardon me in advance.
This is a multi-generational Warriors story based off Shakespeare's history plays (AKA the Henriad): Richard II, 1 Henry IV, 2 Henry IV, Henry V, 1 Henry VI, 2 Henry VI, 3 Henry VI, and Richard III.
If you don't know anything about Shakespeare, or maybe you hate him after the trauma that public education inflicted on you, that's totally okay. It's not necessary to enjoy this story. If you're like me and you do love Shakespeare, then I hope this is a special treat for you.
Warriors inspired my love for reading and writing when I was young, and — long story short — connected me with special people that changed the entire trajectory of my life. I cut my teeth on Warriors Forum RP, but it's not something I'd been interested in for ages.
Before this, it had been years since I've read a Warriors book, or participated in RP, or been plugged into the fandom at all. I fell through the cracks when the Omen of the Stars books were still coming out. Besides RP, reading/writing fanfic had never really been my thing.
Depression ended up hitting me pretty bad this year. But muses visit you in strange ways. I didn't plan on posting this story, but now that it exists, I hope that it's something you can enjoy.
All characters and Clans are original creations for this work; any overlapping names with canon characters is pure coincidence (it's harder than I thought picking a name the Erins haven't already used). The character 'Mistkit' is a homage to the founder of my childhood RP forum, Mistpelt. No idea what she's doing with her life these days but she certainly ruined mine (/s). Shoutout to WCC; love you forever and always still.
Cross-posted to AO3 and Wattpad under the same username.
Updates once a week, every week.