NIGHTBIRD

Each night counted down to the battle with LeafClan, their final dance of death with Rowanstar. Before the new moon, they would strike. By now, it had diminished to a thin sliver, half-concealed behind the clouds. One moon closer to leaf-bare.

He waited at the edge of the marsh, the shadow of Clawtower framed against the black sky and distant ridge of trees beyond, toward where he was born. Waited, and waited, until he curled up in the grass with his head on his paws, thinking he may wait until he ascended to StarClan, when they came.

One pair of ears, and then another. A pale grayish tabby, and a dappled gray-brown she-cat, moving side by side, skirting the edge of the neutral ground that formed the core of all Clan territories. Nightbird shot up to his paws, and when they looked eye to eye, they shot toward each other.

His mate, Mousespots. And Dovefeather, the mother of his son's kits. How long had it been, since they could see each other like this once again?

They brushed together with fierce purrs, head to head and cheek to cheek. No words were necessary; it was enough to be together again, even for just a moment. He knew they each had the ghost of Nettlefang between them, a constant anchor on their hearts.

And he told them all. Everything, even if betraying Toadfoot's carefully laid plans might get his throat slashed by his MireClan hosts. But when he was done, eyes flicking expectantly between the two LeafClan queens, Mousespots quietly shook her head, and Dovefeather lashed her tail and gnashed her teeth.

Their faces said enough.

Dovefeather had always shared a spark of Nettlefang's fire, and she didn't hide the contempt in her eyes as she turned away. The leaf-fall wind rustled the grass and cut through his coat, filling his throat with the increasingly-familiar stench of the marsh. Frogs and rattling crickets filled the silence where no other cat dared speak.

"Please," Nightbird said under his breath. "Make my rough path as easy as you can." Were the times not troublesome enough without their disappointed, haunted faces?

"I give up," Mousespots sighed. "I'll speak no more. Do what you will, and let your wisdom be your guide."

Hardly words of comfort. They still carried the sting of doubt. But what other choice did he have? "My honor is at stake here. And nothing else can redeem it but to fight."

Dovefeather whirled around now. "For StarClan's sake, don't go to these wars!" Her teeth were bared. "When you last broke your word, you were more endeared to it than now. When your own Nettlefang, my Nettlefang went to fight, who persuaded you to stay away then? There were two honors lost that day; yours, and your son's."

Her words lashed him worse than claws or teeth.

"Never, never wrong his memory by holding your honor more precisely with others than with him," she went on, copper eyes flashing. "Let them alone! Jaywind and Shrikewing will act with or without you. If they had been behind my mate to begin with, then today I might be hanging on Nettlefang's neck, speaking of Sunfire's grave."

Curse her heart. She drew his spirit out of him again, lamenting on ancient mistakes.

His honor, maybe StarClan could one day still brighten it. For his son's honor, it had affixed itself to him like the sun in the gray vault of heaven, and by that light moved warriors and leaders to do brave acts. He was the model warrior, and him, wondrous him, his only living kit, he'd left him alone on that battlefield to be slaughtered.

"But I must go and face danger now," Nightbird mewed gravely, "or danger will find me in another place, and worse prepared." He was a rogue to his own clanmates unless he succeeded. If he ever wanted to live as a LeafClan warrior again, then he had no other course.

"Stay behind in MireClan then," Mousespots pleaded, green eyes wide. "Just until they make some progress against Rowanstar."

"If they make ground and gain advantage, then join with them, to make their strength stronger," Dovefeather added, the hint of a break in her voice. "But for all our loves, first let them try by themselves! So did your son. So came I alone in this world. And to never live long enough to see him grow old…"

Nightbird only turned his eyes up toward the moon, thinning and thinning every night. Before it was gone, a dark spot, he would face his own clanmates in battle. If, if he went. His conflicting thoughts were a swelling tide, a wave breaking neither one way or another.

Every muscle screamed at him that he needed to stand with Shrikewing when the time came, but his own heart held him back.

He would return to MireClan. And then only StarClan alone, not him, knew what he'd do next.


AN: Hi! I'm hoping by the time you read this, the site is less funky with it... It wasn't letting me upload this chapter earlier (as a .docx, or .rtf, or .txt), and now it's appearing as a repeat of Chapter 35 on my end when I go to try and read it, no matter what I do. I'm hoping it just kinda sorts itself out, so apologies if it doesn't update correctly! You can also check AO3 for the latest updates if there's any issue or delay here.

I'm also going to be going camping starting tomorrow! For like, over a week! But I'm bringing a laptop and think I should still be able to write/post updates during that time. Hope you had a great holiday and happy New Year, everybody. :)