Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors!

Title: Red Pearls

Summary: Brightfur just wanted to be a medicine cat. Her mentor, Ravenwind, has very different ideas on what that means- for her and for ShadowClan. With Ravenwind controlling her every move and more than willing to kill to keep it that way, Brightfur will need more than just luck to live to tell the tale.

Chapter Title: Scrap

...

Brackenclaw recovered from Clover's pushing soon enough. The warrior seemed honestly embarrassed about his mistake, volunteering to find some fresh-kill as a way of saying sorry. Brightfur waited on the fence while he was gone, Willowpaw awkwardly waiting on the grass below. For all her curiosity towards Twoleg things and loners, she seemed honestly baffled about what to do now that she was there.

Her brother returned with a scraggly mouse, ears flattened irritably at his meager kill. Brightfur nudged him in what she prayed was a comforting manner and led him into the garden. Mabel had returned empty-pawed, curling around Huey and Dewey with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. She looked up as she neared, then tensed.

"This is my brother, Brackenclaw," she explained. "He came looking for me."

Mabel said nothing.

Brackenclaw slowly padded forward, placing the mouse at her paws. "Sorry for the interruption, ma'am. I'll try to stay out of your fur."

Her gaze shifted over his shoulder. "Who is that?" she asked, voice blank.

The silver-and-white tabby apprentice perked up. "Oh! Hi. I'm-"

"Get out."

Willowpaw flinched. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion. "Ma'am?"

Mabel got to her paws, scruff raising. A low aggressive rumble crept towards them as her claws slid out. "Get away from my babies," she snarled.

Brackenclaw stepped between them. "Ma'am, that's my apprentice. She won't hurt you or your babies."

"She looks like him. That's all I need to know." Her growl was getting louder as her eyes fell into slits. "Any kin of Smithy is no friend of mine."

"She's a ShadowClan cat, not some loner!" Brackenclaw stared her down. "I don't know who this Smithy is, and I don't care. Don't ever speak to my apprentice that way again."

Willowpaw, ears low, had turned away, her tail swishing behind her. "Leave her be, Brackenclaw."

"But-"

"I'll just... sleep over here tonight." The 'paw vanished amongst the foliage, voice drifting back to them. "It's no biggie."

Incredulous, the tabby whipped his head around. "You aren't going to argue this?" he demanded.

"I don't have any pull here," Brightfur meowed, confused and a little concerned by Mabel's actions. The queen hadn't been overtly friendly, true, but she'd never threatened someone in her presence before. "Let's give her some space."

Brackenclaw's fur fluffed up. "But she-"

She cut him off. "A threatened queen is more dangerous than any badger," she growled in a low tone. "We'll bring her some fresh-kill and talk it over when she's okay with it."

The warrior opened his mouth to argue, then sighed and nodded. Brightfur risked a glance back at Mabel, finding the molly curled protectively around her kittens. She couldn't get a read on the kittypet's face.

Willowpaw was far more heartbreaking to look at. The young apprentice, once full of snark and life, was in such a tight bundle it was hard to tell tail from whiskers. She was so brave to come here, Brightfur thought to herself. At her age, Brightfur had spent most of her time following Hawkflower around, trying to keep up with training while Ravenwind stayed in camp and did whatever the medicine cat did in her spare time. Plot more murders? Pray? Pray for good luck with the murders?

Brackenclaw laid down beside her, pressing his muzzle to her side. "Hey, kiddo. You okay?"

"Is something wrong with me?" Her voice was muffled.

"What? Willowpaw, no-"

Willowpaw lifted her head. Her ears were flat with hurt. "I mean, I always knew I looked bad for a ShadowClan cat, but now even kittypets hate me. Is it... is it really that bad? Is something wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"But I'm half-rogue," she blurted out, confirming Brightfur's suspicions that she knew. "And I look like someone who scared a nice lady that much."

"Rainblaze and Barkfall are the kits of rogues," Brackenclaw replied. "And my niece and nephew are half-rogue too! It doesn't mean anything. Just be the best warrior you can be, and everything will fall into place."

"That doesn't help me even slightly right now," Willowpaw stated, then rolled over to show she was done with the conversation. "Call me if you get some decent advice, fluff-for-brains."

Her brother looked to her desperately for backup. Brightfur slightly shook her head. What do I know of caring for apprentices? He gave Willowpaw a cautious nudge and stood. "Well, if you need to talk to anyone, just know I'm here, okay?"

Willowpaw said nothing.

"Uh, ma'am?" Something sharp prodded Brightfur's side. "Am I too early?"

Brightfur let out a long moan. She cracked open her eyes to see the gray tom from the day before staring down at her. He looked awkward and sheepish, but there was a glimmer of something impatient in his gaze.

"Oh," she said. "It's you."

"It's me," he agreed. "You mentioned something about a meal?"

Aw, toad-guts. Brightfur forced herself to sit up, shaking herself out. Her limbs shrieked against the motion; she hadn't slept well, or comfortably, for that matter. "Yeah, I remember. Just- just gimme a minute."

The dusty gray tom sat as still as stone as Brightfur left, and he hadn't moved when she returned, sparrow in her maw. Brightfur barely had the chance to set it down before her muzzle was shoved away. The loner ate with a startling lack of decorum, tearing off feathers and throwing the bones in random directions. Brightfur felt bad for him- there was no signs of his ribs, but he clearly hadn't eaten recently.

He finished and sat up, cleaning his face with a content sigh. "I needed that. Thank you." He paused, squinting at her. "Brightfur, right?"

"That's me."

"That's a weird name."

She shrugged. "What's yours?"

"Scrap."

"That's way weirder than my name." Brightfur blinked at him owlishly. "Scrap of what?"

"Scrap of me, I guess," said Scrap. "Look, Brightfur, you seem nice, but... you really should clear out of here. It's only a matter of time before Smithy knows you're here."

The medicine cat's ear flicked as a fly buzzed too close to it. It wasn't that she wasn't scared- just that she had grown begrudgingly accepting of the fear and the stranglehold it had around her life. If it wasn't Smithy, it was Ravenwind, and vice versa. "Smithy knows me. He seems to like me."

"Of course he does," he meowed flatly. "I'm not worried for you."

The fur along Brightfur's spine rose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he shouldn't be here!" Clover hissed. Brightfur jumped, having not heard the molly coming. The loner stalked up with her teeth bared. "Looking to rat us out, Scrap?"

Scrap didn't seem very intimidated. "You know me, Clover. I'll do anything to not wind up dead."

The ginger-and-white she-cat turned her fierce gaze on Brightfur. "Whattaya think you're doing, feeding him?"

Brightfur scooted back a whisker-length. How was I supposed to know he was an enemy? No one tells me anything around here! "He helped Willowpaw and Brackenclaw find us, so I just thought-"

"So Smithy already knows," Clover snarled. "Great. Just great."

Scrap stood. "I should go."

"You're the worst kind of tom, you know that? They're your kits."

Brightfur felt like a badger had smacked her upside the head at the news. Scrap, however, merely turned his back on them, trotting towards the fence. "Thanks for the bird!" he called over his shoulder.

Clover sneered at him. "Douchebag."

"I'm sorry, Clover. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"I know." She slunk down to the grass with a sigh. Clover looked ages older than she had just moments ago as she regarded Brightfur. "I shoulda told you sooner."

Brightfur got he feeling she meant that about a couple of things, but she chose not to make too big a deal out of it. "It doesn't matter to me who Huey and Dewey's dad is."

"It matters to Smithy," she replied. "He hates purebreds. Most housecats, really, but he's got a thing for pedigree. He thinks we should all live in garbage bins, I guess. If he were just a nobody, then it wouldn't be an issue, but Smithy's smarter than he looks. He builds up favors."

"You owe him a few," Brightfur guessed. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To make sure nothing else happens to them."

Clover flinched. "Something like that. I volunteered for this job, actually. He wants those kits. At least, he wants any that look decently enough like Scrap. He told Mabel that- and, well, Mabel and Parsnip aren't enough to fend off Smithy. The fire gave her time. Me guarding her gave her extra time." Clover scanned her, as if second-guessing something. "But if Smithy knows we brought outsiders in..."

The bushes behind them rustled, and out of them came Willowpaw. Her eyes were big and sad as she quietly padded over, sitting down beside Brightfur. "No wonder Mabel doesn't like me," she said.

"It's not your fault," Clover said.

The apprentice shook her head. "What can we do? There's not exactly an army in this garden."

"Take them back with you," she answered bluntly. "I only asked Brightfur to come to heal them, but Mabel trusts you. There's enough fighting cats in those woods to spook most any cat. They'll be safe without any bloodshed."

"The Clans aren't very kind to cats who aren't Clan-blood," Brightfur warned. Her paws shook at the idea of bringing two kittypet-born kittens to Slatestar. To Ravenwind, for that matter. Would she feel kinship towards them, or disgust? Would leading them there just be leading them to their death anyway?

Willowpaw let out a contemplative hum. Suddenly, she perked up, nudging her side. "The Moonstone! If StarClan accepts them, there's no way anybody can make that big of a fuss."

"It's... possible," she said, thought she didn't believe it. StarClan hadn't done anything to help ShadowClan, to stop Ravenwind, or to warn her against her mentor's bloodthirsty ambitions- why would they help two burnt kittens?

Clover's eyes darted between them. "I have no idea what that is, but unless you wanna test fate, you better show it to me."

Author's Note: Been a hot minute, but we're back in business! I've been trying to figure out what I wanted Scrap's character to be, and eventually decided he's, well, a rat. He'll do most anything to save his own hide, whatever the cost.

I've actually split this story into two chunks on Ao3 now! I'm curious to know if people would prefer that on here as well, or if they'd rather have one big story despite the changing arcs. Thoughts?

-Mandaree1