SHRIKEWING
The medicine cat rose with the sun, sending up his prayers to StarClan, grateful for one more dawn. The reckoning day had come, and as the sun began its descent to drown in the poisoned water beyond the hills, MireClan only grew more and more frenzied.
"Leaves must die, kin must die; all cats die the same," the ritual chant rose up, led by a dark tortoiseshell elder. "But I know one thing that never dies; the glory of the dead!"
The ceremonies began in earnest by the first hint of dusk, and had grown into a caterwauling by the time the last fingers of daylight thinned and receded. A black, moonless night, where even the stars themselves masked their fires.
That was StarClan's favor, in its own kind of way. Their warrior ancestors were cloaking them with shadows, allowing them to move in silence. Straight to the heart of LeafClan camp, straight to the Hollow Ash, and in one swift strike, perhaps it could all be over.
All those old wrongs righted. And then, maybe, he could sleep through the night.
The MireClan deputy gathered his raiding party around him, their pelts smeared in watermint and lavender like walking corpses prepared for burial, their paws dyed dark and bloody red with haws they smashed beneath their pads. Grinning Loachwhisker and ice-eyed Snakethroat, Sleetfang and Mudspeckle and Newtsplash, the apprentices, and others.
"Don't worry, Hazelkit," Jaywind said to her daughter, a dappled light brown scrap of fur with a white belly, and bright blue eyes. The very image of Thrushear, when he was that same age. "Remember the LeafClan stories I taught you, and sleep. When you open your eyes, I'll be back."
A LeafClan kit born into exile, in the heat of greenleaf after the battle. Four moons old and never outside the watchful eyes of MireClan queens, but she was no MireClan cat, and never would be. No more than any of them could settle in with these flinty-eyed strangers, and truly become part of them.
They had too much of the forest in them.
Over the seasons since their defeat, the swamp cats had learned to tolerate Shrikewing, Jaywind, and Nightbird as guests. But the MireClan kits excluded Hazelkit from every game, or made her the target of one, calling her squirrel-chaser and rat-blood and all kinds of vile names when they thought the older LeafClan cats were out of earshot.
Thrushear had gone into battle with them, but never returned from the field. At first he assumed the worst, that he'd met the same end as Nettlefang and Sparrowflight and Larkfeather. But the rumors he'd heard circulated among the swamp cats that he'd returned to LeafClan, and that was almost as painful to consider.
Returned to LeafClan. How could that be? Jaywind had refused to believe it, and none of them entertained the concept in her presence. But still, the very thought continued to prick at his heart. Thrushear, his sister's kit, his only living piece of her left under the stars, and had he given up the fight?
At last, Toadfoot held up his tail, yellow eyes gleaming in the half-light, and led his warriors out with a ferocious yowl. The MireClan cats joined the cry, streaming after him through the tunnel of thorns and into the black swamp.
Even with all these moons he had spent an unwilling refugee in these hunting grounds, he still distrusted his own footing. The earth was treacherous with ensnaring roots and tangling vines, poisonous, stinging plants, and sometimes it seemed impossible to tell if one was about to step in water or land. Or if that puddle was a mouse-whisker deep, or enough to swallow a cat up to their neck.
He was no warrior, but even still, he felt his blood coursing as he raced alongside the raiding party, the wind in his face, as the trees parted and thinned to open marsh. Finally, finally, after so long, so many unnecessary stepbacks relying on the wrong cats…
Finally, vengeance.
The medicine cat was caked in mud up to his belly fur just like the rest of them, when they crossed a sluggish border stream that marked the edge of MireClan territory. Clawtower filled their vision, the very symbol of peace, harmony, and reverence for the warrior code beneath the full moon. But no moon, no stars showed their light tonight, and the stony mount was a hunched, imposing shadow, like the form of some great sleeping thing as they skirted beneath its shade.
By that next full moon, he prayed a new leader would stand on the Greenstone. And he'd be graced to see it, at long last.
Toadfoot, at the head of the patrol, lifted his tail in a silent signal. The MireClan cats skidded to a stop, sheltered among the shrubbery and tall grass which spread out around Clawtower. No one Clan scent overpowered the rest here; LeafClan, HillClan, MireClan, and MeadowClan could all be tasted in faint traces.
But as Shrikewing turned his head, counting the faces of his LeafClan and MireClan compatriots, he was quick to realize there was at least one cat missing.
Nightbird. He'd seen him sulking around camp, he'd seen him leave out the thorn tunnel with the rest of them, but there was no sign or scent of him now.
"He's scarpered," the medicine cat hissed, and Jaywind immediately perked her ears up to his meaning.
"Good StarClan, you're right," she sighed, with a roll of her neck. "Thus our hopes in him touch the ground and dash themselves to pieces."
Broken by the death of his sister and son. He had nothing left to fight for, Shrikewing thought to himself, grinding his teeth. But… didn't he? Everything they had worked toward was already in motion. Why flinch now? What else did they have to lose?
Snakethroat had been their eyes and ears, scouting ahead of the patrol, and she returned to Toadfoot's side now with alarm blazing in her yellow eyes.
"What report?" the deputy demanded, whipping his tail.
"An entire LeafClan war party is stretched out across the border, brazen as sunshine," Snakethroat hissed.
Waiting for them. "How could they have known?" Shrikewing felt his claws dig into the earth, hackles raised.
"It doesn't matter if we fight them here or there," Jaywind snapped. "Let's face them head on then, if that's how it has to be."
The war party skirted around Clawtower, in the direction of the poppy fields and the forest beyond. True enough, they found them there, their silhouettes lining a grassy rise. The blood red flowers were dormant for the season, sleeping in the ground with generations of LeafClan dead.
"Who is this that comes?" Loachwhisker questioned. "The deputy?"
One silhouette approached them at a steady walk, as the MireClan cats and LeafClan rebels lined up many tree-lengths apart. Shrikewing recognized Owlswoop's brown dappled pelt the moment he drew close enough to distinguish.
"Owlswoop," Jaywind answered before him. "A senior warrior."
The LeafClan warrior stood tall and alone, yellow eyes flicking from cat to cat.
"Sorreltail sends his regards," he mewed coolly, the tension thick enough to chew on, MireClan cats squaring into fighting stances with hackles raised.
"Say on in peace," Shrikewing demanded. "Why do you come?"
"Because of you, why else?" Owlswoop fixed him with a stony glare. "Medicine cats are sworn to peace and to rise above Clan rivalries. But you flatter this band of bloodthirsty raiders with your presence, justifying their cause to the entire forest."
Shrikewing swallowed hard as he met the warrior's gaze, but Owlswoop went on, eyes narrowing as the hint of a rumble rose in his throat, the faintest threat of a growl. "Are you a raider now, Shrikewing?" he challenged. "Do you mean to fight alongside these fox-hearts? Why are you here, medicine cat?"
Why? What was it all for? So the question stood. "To this end," Shrikewing answered evenly, tail lashing. "We are all diseased, and with our sloth and gluttony, have brought ourselves into a burning fever." Golden eyes flashed. "But even with all my skills in medicine, there's no herb that can cure this sickness. Nor am I an enemy of LeafClan. But as a medicine cat, I must protect the traditions of our ancestors, and it would be shameful for me to not take a stand."
Owlswoop bristled, but said nothing.
"Here me more plainly," Shrikewing pressed. "In StarClan's eyes, no doubt our griefs are heavier than our offenses. The wrongs that have been done have been left to fester, and it's Rowanstar that denies us justice. I am not here to break peace or any branch of it, but to make a just peace that will withstand the seasons."
The danger of days newly gone, whose scarlet memory still screamed out from the earth, had forced him to stand here like a warrior.
"When have you ever been denied anything by Rowanstar?" Owlswoop growled. "What has he done to wrong you since his leadership, that you would consecrate his murder?"
"For the injustices done to my clanmates," Shrikewing rasped, unmoved, "and the cruelty done to my sister."
"She chose her fate," Owlswoop snapped, and Shrikewing felt his chest tense, his claws digging deeper into the earth. "And if Rowanstar must answer for that, such redress doesn't belong to you."
Jaywind cut in now, spitting poison. "Why shouldn't he seek justice? Any warrior worth their name would. Why don't all of us deserve some justice, when we still suffer the bruises of the days before, and bear the condition of these times? Rowanstar clambered to leadership by trampling the honor of our loved ones."
Once, Jaywind's mother had met Rowanthorn tooth and claw beneath the Father Oak, with all the Clan watching. All by Rosestar's commandment. Leopardfoot might've ended it for all of them, then and there, and left Rowanthorn cold on the ground. Instead, they both stalked away toward exile in Twolegplace.
As for Rowanthorn, within three moons he had returned and carved his way to a better name. But Leopardfoot, no Clan cat had ever seen again.
"Then Jaywind, you should realize it was the times, and not Rowanstar, that hurt you," Owlswoop said. "Your mother may have been Rowanstar's enemy, but has he not treated you as any other loyal, honorable warrior?"
"What honor did my mother lose that needs to be revived and breathed in me?" Jaywind spat. "Rosestar knew my mother's loyalty, but the state of the Clan compelled him to exile her. And when they fought under the Father Oak, then there was nothing that could have stopped her from ending Rowanstar's life.
"Nothing, except Rosestar's command. And when Rosestar called out, he threw himself down, threw his nine lives away, and the lives of every cat killed in the bloody moons of Rowanstar's rule."
"You speak, Jaywind, but have no clue," Owlswoop growled. "Rowanstar was reputed as a fighter even then, and who knows on whom fortune would have smiled? But if your mother had been the victor, she'd never have borne it honorably. Because whether she won or not, the Clan cried hate toward her in their hearts, and all their prayers and love were set on Rowanthorn, who they trusted more than their leader—"
"You snake-tongue—"
Jaywind started forward, but Shrikewing held her back with a wordless tail signal.
"This is all a digression," Owlswoop said at last. "Sorreltail has sent me here to know your demands, and to tell you that he is willing to meet with you on neutral territory to negotiate a compromise."
Shrikewing could hardly mask his surprise. "What kind of compromise?" If LeafClan truly meant to negotiate, then perhaps they didn't have the strength to fight.
"It's fear, not love, that drives you mouse-hearts to compromise now," Jaywind growled.
"You're too presumptuous," Owlswoop said. "This offer comes from mercy, not fear. Be assured LeafClan is as keen and able to fight as your MireClan friends."
"Fox-dirt on your compromises," Jaywind hissed.
"That only argues the shame of your offenses," Owlswoop mewed gravely. "But in truth… Rowanstar is gravely ill, and he shows no sign of recovery. If it's true as you say, and Rowanstar has but one life… So much LeafClan blood does not need to be wasted."
The revelation was like a spike of ice in his chest. Part of him should have felt relief, but it was a hollowness that numbed him to the core. True, Sunfire had spoken for him at the Gathering, speaking of illness… But would nature steal his vengeance from him?
Was it a death that even belonged to him?
"Has this Sorreltail been given authority by Rowanstar to negotiate?" Toadfoot interjected, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "He is no deputy either."
"He speaks for the Clan warriors, and that is all that matters," Owlswoop answered stiffly.
Through all his rage, his stress, the sudden throbbing in his head and aching in his heart, a cool wave of relief washed over him. The words sprang out, almost a surprise to himself. "Then we'll hear him out," Shrikewing declared.
They were to meet atop Clawtower. When the Great Clans ruled the land, the elders told him giant wolves stalked two lost lion cubs, chasing them to the top of a boulder. The stars took pity on them, and the tower rose up and up all the way to Silverpelt, as the wolves scrabbled and raked all around the stone.
That was the old kit-tale in LeafClan, anyway. An entertaining enough story. It was said that in the days before the warrior code, cats lived without order or honor, not bound by kin-ties, but only by the law of claw and tooth. Clawtower, the heart of the territories where many hunting grounds overlapped, was supposed to be the site of an ancient battle.
Corpses filled the grove at the summit, those ancient trees drinking the blood of the fallen, when the spirits of the dead appeared from the moon-gleam. From there, it was said, they must unite or die.
Ever since, Clawtower had been a sacred symbol of peace. And so it might be again, for these warring Clans.
They watched Owlswoop return to the unmoving line of LeafClan warriors in the distance. The MireClan warriors exchanged dissatisfied murmurs, Loachwhisker and Snakethroat whipping their tails, but no cat's face was more bitter than Jaywind's as she stared after the senior warrior.
"Something in my heart tells me that any talk is wasted air," she murmured. "This is a delaying tactic."
"Fear not that," Shrikewing insisted. "If the warriors are willing to negotiate behind Rowanstar and Sunfire's backs, then we can have a bloodless victory today. A peace that will stand as firm as rocky mountains."
"But every slight, false word, yes, every stupid mishap or misunderstanding, will remind Rowanstar and his followers of our old animosity," Jaywind said through grit teeth. "He'll never forget, or truly forgive, even if we laid our lives down for LeafClan."
"No, no, Jaywind," Shrikewing sighed. He tasted his own hate, his own desire for blood in her implacable stubbornness, but the quiet rage that had torn at him just felt like poison now. "Rowanstar is dying, and weary of picking dainty grievances. He's found that if he ends one threat by murder, two more spring up in its place. It goes round and round forever, don't you see that?"
The medicine cat cast a silent glance up to the starless night, praying for Briarstalk's forgiveness, if nothing else. "If they're wise, LeafClan will wipe their memories clean, and bury old feuds," he finished.
Rowanstar couldn't weed out every cat he had his suspicions or misgivings about, or else there wouldn't be a body left. His foes were so enrooted with his friends that to pluck one would unfix and shake the rest. He'd discovered that now, far too late, if he truly was close to death.
"It may be true that Rowanstar has become a fangless fox, with no more strength to threaten anyone," Toadfoot admitted with a low growl. "But we did not come here to parley. If you're giving LeafClan your terms, then I'll have some demands of my own, medicine cat."
MireClan was their strength, their only leverage. They would take what they could gain. Or they could build something better.
"Our peace will grow stronger for the breaking, like a broken limb," Shrikewing said. "Burdockstar once negotiated a triple alliance between our Clans and the moor cats. Paleface still lives, and that alliance can be revived still. Three can be joined in one, a new Great Clan. A new age of true peace."
Jaywind twitched her whiskers. "I never thought you were so naive, Shrikewing. I just hope you're right."
He thought of that story again, as they climbed the narrow track round and round to the summit of Clawtower. As an apprentice, he had to admit that he used to search for old lion prints, imprinted in the stone.
Could there be a new LionClan again? TigerClan, or LeopardClan? But then, with three joined in one, who could stop them? Not even MeadowClan, their ranks swelling with warriors, prosperous even in the depths of leaf-bare while all other Clans suffered.
The grove was darker than he could've imagined beneath the new moon; the four Greenstones were black monstrous shapes scattered around the edge of the clearing.
Shrikewing settled at the base of one of the boulders, Jaywind and Toadfoot at his side. And soon enough, there was the approach of pawsteps, the rustle of undergrowth, and a LeafClan patrol emerging from the opposite end of the clearing.
Owlswoop was among them, and Boulderstep, Tansyslip, Asterstripe, but Sorreltail stood at the head of the patrol. One of Rowanstar's own kits, a reddish tabby tom with murky green eyes, and now he approached with his war party behind him.
Shrikewing strode forward to meet him, Jaywind and Toadfoot on either flank, until they stood with hardly a fox-length between them.
Sorreltail was the one to break the silence. "Believe me when I say it's good to see you again, Jaywind, and you, Shrikewing. But I have to say, you looked better in the medicine den, and not playing the warrior." The eyes of the LeafClan cats glowed in the gloom, their pelts hardly distinguishable even so close. "You turn from healing to violence, life to death. Who hasn't heard of your skill in healing, your intelligence? To us, you were StarClan's own voice. But now you misuse that voice to threaten your own Clan."
"Sorreltail, I am not here against peace or LeafClan," Shrikewing said once again. "But as I told Owlswoop, the disordered times have forced us to act for our own honor and safety. We have been wronged, and we ask for what's just and right. Any cat with eyes can see we're not each without our causes. And if it's granted, this danger over all our heads will lift, and we can be clanmates once more."
"If not, we are ready to try our fortunes to the very last breath," Jaywind hissed.
"And even if our warriors fall here, our apprentices will take our place, and kits who will take their place," Toadfoot said, his eyes two yellow slits in the blackness. "And forever and ever, until your Clan has a new beginning."
"You are too weak-eyed, Toadfoot, much too weak-eyed to see so far into the future," Sorreltail said, showing a hint of a snarl.
Owlswoop leaned in now, eyes narrowed, tail whipping. "What are your demands?"
"Does any LeafClan cat relish the idea of Sunfire being their next leader?" Shrikewing said, and the pregnant pause that followed spoke a thousand words. "Rowanstar will be allowed to live out the rest of his days. In exile, if he recovers. In the medicine den, if not. And once he is gone, Paleface shall be our next leader. A leader with nine lives, accepted by StarClan."
Owlswoop and Sorreltail exchanged a glance.
"And Paleface's deputy?" Sorreltail pressed.
"The leader picks the deputy, according to the warrior code," Shrikewing mewed. "But I'm more than sure Paleface would be willing to go with the Clan's choice. Any one of you, perhaps."
Owlswoop gave a long sidelong look to Sorreltail as he stood in silent contemplation, before nodding his assent.
"Let it be done," Sorreltail answered, looking each of them in the face. "On my honor, I swear to do everything I can to have every wrong be set right again, and let peace return to LeafClan. Toadfoot, if you send your warriors back to your camp, we will do the same. And let's share fresh-kill and strategize our next steps, just us."
"I take your word for it, Sorreltail," Shrikewing said with a respectful bow of his head.
The warrior returned the gesture with grace. "I give it to you, and maintain my word." And with a sweep of his tail, dismissed the other warriors. Owlswoop stayed at his side, but Asterstripe, Tansyslip, and Boulderstep all melted back into the darkness.
Toadfoot turned back toward his warriors, and mirrored Sorreltail's signal. And so the MireClan warriors obeyed, straggling back alone or in pairs, dissipating into the foliage.
Loachwhisker and Toadfoot, Shrikewing and Jaywind, Sorreltail and Owlswoop; MireClan and LeafClan stood together in a loose circle, hackles relaxed now, as the scents and sounds of the two rival war parties receded.
The ancient oaks had shed a quilt of red and gold leaves, carpeting the ground around their paws.
"My thanks to you, Shrikewing," Sorreltail purred with a dip of his head.
Shrikewing's heart felt lighter than it had in moons. "Thank you, Sorreltail; and you as well, Owlswoop."
The senior warrior gave a gentle nod of acknowledgment. "And the same to you, for your patience. If you knew what pains I took to help breed this peace… But my goodwill and love will show itself more openly, from here on."
"I do not doubt you," the medicine cat said.
"And I am glad of it."
Jaywind looked something queasy, that bitter look still clinging to her face. Still not in the mood for pleasantries, and he couldn't hold it against her. But soon, soon enough, they'd have what they wanted.
"A peace is greater than any conquest, since both sides are beaten, and neither side loses," Shrikewing said. He was passing light in spirit, even if Jaywind was not.
"The Clan will be glad to see you again," Sorreltail said. "I trust we'll spend the night here."
Toadfoot stood with a shake of his head. "If our part in this is done, then it is best I return to Burdockstar as soon as possible and tell her all."
"You'll never return to your vile marsh again," Owlswoop said, pleasantries shattered, voice exploding into a roar. "LeafClan! Kill them all!"
Shadows exploded from the surrounding trees. Boulderstep, Asterstripe, Tansyslip, they had not gone far at all, and they were followed by others, Quailtail and Mistpelt and Cloverfern and Kestrelstrike, and more unknown scents he couldn't place.
They were swarmed in moments, as Owlswoop tackled the MireClan deputy to the grass, and Shrikewing felt a weight crash into him from behind. Jaywind let out a cry, backing up against the Greenstone as two, three warriors encircled her.
"Is this just and honorable?!" she cried out.
"Is your assembly so?" Owlswoop spat, pulling away with Toadfoot's life-blood speckling his muzzle.
Red and gold leaves kicked up around the clearing as cats rolled together. Loachwhisker went racing into the greenery, bleeding heavily from a gash on her flank, but the night sky and cold earth all seemed to whirl together as Tansyslip held him back by the scruff, Cloverfern pinning down his back legs.
"Will you break your faith?" Shrikewing choked out as Sorreltail stalked toward him, a red fox.
"I promised you none," Sorreltail said, claws grappling him by the shoulders as he leaned in whisker to whisker. "I promised to right every wrong and bring LeafClan peace, and I shall. And you will pay the just price for your treason."
There was no pain. Just a cold shock as a pair of fangs sank into his throat, the breath croaking from his body as all weight and strength lifted. He gazed up at Sorreltail as his vision blurred, his hearing began to ring, the taste of cold iron spreading on his tongue and filling his mouth.
"Pursue any of the MireClan stragglers and hunt them down," Sorreltail barked to the LeafClan warriors, as Shrikewing's vision fizzled to blackness and his head slumped to the grass. "StarClan, and not us, have safely fought today."
