Disclaimer: I don't own the Warriors series!

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: Hauntings Hurrah

...

"Oh, my stars," wheezed Willowthorn. "Brightfur, I swear, I didn't know-"

Brightfur waved her tail for silence. Her heart thudded painfully in her ears as she studied Berryshade. She had seen a dead littermate before, quite some time ago now, but this was very different from a kit was born ill. The black molly's fur was filled with stars and cosmos, but her eyes were dead and white. Brightfur didn't sense any sort of outline to her appearance, as if she just... oozed.

"Do you know me?" she asked.

Berryshade tipped her head to the other side. "Brightfur. It sounds... familiar."

Willowthorn hesitantly joined Brightfur, fur frizzling with anxiety. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's lost. StarClan usually guides warriors to avoid this sort of thing."

"But Berryshade was alone," she finished grimly. "The stars are mostly dark here."

"The words are nice, but they don't fill me with joy," said the spirit. "I think I'm empty? There was something in my stomach, and it's gone now." Berryshade waved a paw through her midsection. Brightfur caught a flash of bloody scratches. "What're those things called? The things that do the moving."

"Organs?"

"Yes, those. I'm missing those."

Brightfur swallowed a wave of nausea. Focus. The sooner we settle this, the sooner I can work out who did this to her. "Do you remember where your body is?"

"I am my body." Berryshade pointed her muzzle towards a weed-clustered corner. "But I think the droopy bits are over there."

"You're not going to dig her up, are you?" Willowthorn squeaked.

"Of course not!" Brightfur silenced her with a glare. "But if I can find out who did this-"

"Oh, that's easy. It was him." Berryshade pointed her foot out towards the entrance of the greenhouse. "He's waiting for you. I think he likes you. Or maybe he just doesn't like me?"

She swung around, squinting into the darkness. Nothing immediately stood out to her. But what does distance mean to a ghost, anyway? He could be millions of fox-lengths that direction. Guess I'll just have to get walking. The medicine cat began to stalk out of the greenhouse, only to be cut off by Willowthorn, who was looking increasingly out of her depth.

"Shouldn't we... you know... do something?" Her eyes pointedly moved towards the spirit. "We can't just leave her like this, right?"

Brightfur forced her fur to lie flat. "Right. You're right. I'm not thinking clearly." Looking at her sister was like stepping on thorns, over and over again. "Your name is Berryshade. You were a warrior of ShadowClan, and you belong in StarClan."

Berryshade hummed a little. "That doesn't sound quite right."

She grit her teeth. Of course it wasn't that easy.

"What about Berrypaw?" asked Willowthorn, startling her. "She didn't have her name for very long before- well. Before."

The molly's outline grew a bit brighter. "Oh! I like that. It sounds... nice." The smile fell from her muzzle almost instantly. "But still... it's not right."

"Berrykit?"

"That just makes me emptier." Berryshade paused. "It... I remember a face like mine. Was that me?"

Willowthorn shot Brightfur a look she read as "you're on your own, now." Brightfur dipped her head. It made sense. She'd barely been made an apprentice when Burnstar was killed. "Darkkit," she meowed gently. "He was very sick. He died when we were young."

"I... didn't know that," Willowthorn said, swallowing.

Brightfur couldn't tell if she was sad or full of pity, or both. She flicked the notion away with her ear. "Wasn't much to say. None of us really remember him." She looked at Berryshade, half-hoping she would agree. Berryshade said nothing. "You spent your whole life trying to make us happy. And at the end, you tried to find happiness somewhere else. Maybe... Is your name Berry?"

Berry blinked and the white of her eyes were gone, revealing the gentle green she hadn't seen in moons now. "...Brightfur?"

"Well, it's less of a mouthful, I guess."

For the first time, Berry moved from her spot by catmint, carefully padding over to them. With each pawstep she grew more solid; like a tremor subsiding in water, the crystal face returned. By the time she met them, a thick scar chiseled down her chest and stomach, filled with cosmos. Brightfur ripped up some grass in rage. She tilted her head down so Berry could press her nose to her forehead, all the while wanting to find the cat who did this and do horrible, horrible things.

"I've been cold for so long, I've forgotten what it's like to be warm," Berry meowed, pulling back. "I'm going to have to chew on a lot of ears when I get to StarClan."

"Tell grandpa I said hi."

"Can't you do that next half-moon?"

"Sure," said Brightfur, lying. "May StarClan light your path, Berry. May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep."

A soft black tail gently brushed against her cheek, and Berry pulled away. "Let's go, Louie," she called, and a tiny kitten skittered out of the nearby bushes, almost translucent in his form. Willowthorn let out a quiet gasp. The duo touched noses and disappeared.

The greenhouse felt much colder, now. Exhausted, Brightfur fell onto her haunches. Her mind swirled with commitments that needed to be upheld. I'll have to tell Smokestripe. Oh, but I should check the body first. Her vigil! Stars, she didn't even have a vigil. The catmint was the smallest of her problems.

A gentle paw touched her back, making her jump. "Are you... okay?" Willowthorn asked. "All things considered."

She sucked in a steadying breath. "You should go home. This is going to take awhile."

Willowthorn hesitated, then dipped her head. "What should I tell Ravenwind?"

"She won't ask."

"Do you hate her?"

"What?" The question threw her for a loop.

She shrugged. "She was the one who suggested we send Berry away."

"Oh. That." It was one of many horrible things Ravenwind had done, and Brightfur was so numb overall it was past the fires of hatred and into the coolness of loathing; but it wasn't to be brushed aside, either. "It's... complicated. I'd rather not have any of you kids near her if I can help it."

"Can I stay here, then?" she meowed. "I'll have to talk to her if I don't."

Brightfur fought the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't in the mood to deal with this kind of back-and-forth. "Fine." Shrugging off Willowthorn's paw was easy, while approaching the corner Berry had indicated was not. The weeds reeked of wild onions and rosemary; something Brightfur didn't doubt was intentional. She carefully combed her paws across the surface. The ground was wet and mushy from Twoleg interference.

She scraped some crumbs away and felt something soft and squishy, and cold as ice. Even in the dark, she knew what it was. Brightfur knew very little about the insides of cats; that was a mystery to most any warrior. But even she knew the object in front of her was something that only came spilling out when someone was gutted by another. The remnants of what would have become a child.

"Oh, stars," she whispered, retching. "Oh, StarClan's kits."

Willowthorn's ears shot up. "Brightfur?"

"Don't come over here!" Brightfur quickly threw some dirt over it, hesitating on whether to pat it down. Touching something like that intentionally was beyond her. "I... found her."

Against her wishes, the young warrior slunk over. She eyed the dirt as if it was full of bees. "Was it recent?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"No. But, if she was closer to kitting... there would've been more ghosts in here."

"Oh," she meowed, ears flat. "Right."

Trembling, Brightfur hardly felt her legs go out beneath her. She pressed her head to the mound and let out a mournful howl. Willowthorn's cold nose brushed her shoulder as she settled in for an unconventional vigil. It wasn't nearly enough.

The greenhouse came alive in the dream world, bright and cheery as she stood from her body. Trees and bushes and flowers; the ghosts of harvests long taken. Three and four leaf clovers sprouted between Brightfur's paws. She couldn't help but think it was ironic that Berry's grave bore no berries.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here."

Flowerpaw's ears pinned back as she padded to stand beside her. "Don't be like that, Brightfur."

"How can I not?" she shot back. "You should've guided Berry to StarClan."

"You know that's not how it works. We couldn't enter here before tonight; we didn't know this place held one of our own."

Brightfur snorted and lashed her tail. She wasn't mad at the apprentice specifically- just StarClan overall. There was so many rules and reasons for everything, they couldn't seem to help much at all. "Well, thanks for locking my sister in a horrific limbo, I guess."

Flowerpaw touched her nose to Brightfur's shoulder. The room became brighter. Brightfur hadn't realized the world had become so desaturated to her eyes. "I know that you have your issues with us. I don't blame you for being wary. But our powers rely on each individual's belief; and you believe we can do nothing. So we do."

"Maybe I'd believe if you put some effort in! How many graves has Ravenwind dug?"

"How many have you helped her bury?" Flowerpaw replied. "We aren't to blame for the type of medicine cat Ravenwind became, any more than you are. We gave her signs and prophecies. We tried to change her fate. But she didn't believe she could ever be anything else." The molly settled a paw on Brightfur's. "Look at you. You've become so bitter."

Brightfur squinted at Flowerpaw. The stars flickered, creating a sort of gentle pool in her pelt. Brightfur looked ancient now- her muzzle dotted with gray. The patch of fur on her hip had never returned after Ravenwind had ripped it out. Fading scabs dotted her muzzle from their scuffle in the den. And her fur, which had once been bright as the sun, had gone pale from too much time spent in her den.

"I don't think there's any other way I can be," she rasped. "I was so proud to be a medicine cat. I was so proud to talk to StarClan. And now it's just... nothing."

Flowerpaw laved a lick to her scruff. "Not much longer now, Brightfur, I promise. I've brought you a gift, if you'll accept it."

"You out to kill me?" Brightfur meowed, a bit surprised.

"No, nothing like that. Think of it like a quid pro quo."

"Not much of a gift, then."

"I know. I'm sorry." Flowerpaw's smile went a little crooked. "Will you promise me to raise Dewkit to be a good medicine cat?"

Brightfur's claws sunk into the dirt. She didn't know if she felt frustrated or relieved to be given instruction. "Loyal to you, you mean. ShadowClan doesn't need to rely on the stars to survive."

"ShadowClan deserves to talk to the stars just as much as any other Clan." Her whiskers quivered with the intensity of her voice. "I know you'll raise Dewkit right, Brightfur. He'll be a great medicine cat. But he should get to see the Moonstone every half-moon, and talk to the cats who came before."

"Every half-moon? Ravenwind didn't take me that much."

"Ravenwind fears the roads." Flowerpaw held her paw out expectantly. "Please, Brightfur."

Brightfur rolled her eyes but willingly crossed them. "You're so bossy."

"Don't worry. I know my gift will make up for it."

"It better."

The air was dusty and stuffy as Brightfur's eyelids pried themselves open. Willowthorn was snuggled up tightly against her side, clearly having fallen asleep as well. Part of Brightfur felt ashamed of that. I'm sorry, Berry. You deserved a better vigil. But I guess you died long enough ago now that it's different.

"What's taking so long?" a familiar voice meowed, and every inch of Brightfur's body went stiff. She watched with malice as Scrap entered one weaselly pawstep at a time, sniffing around anxiously. "Thorn, you in here? I've been waiting by the streetlamp!"

Berry's voice echoed in her ears: He's waiting for you.

Flowerpaw, Brightfur thought, gathering her paws beneath her. She carefully untangled herself from Willowthorn and let her claws slide out, relishing in their sharpness. She could tell the tom hadn't noticed her yet. Thank you.

Author's Note: This one took a bit! These chapters are gonna be hard right now- Brightfur is in a key growing point in her life, faced with middle-aged-ness and her own trauma rendering her in constant emotional deadzone to avoid Ravenwind's rage. This is, so to speak, her lowest part in the story. What comes after Streets of Clover is the good shit she has the right too.

-Mandaree1