GOOSEBELLY
He was halfway up Clawtower, just in time to see a MireClan cat get flung from the top. The night's relative silence shattered, exploding into sounds of fighting and death, when a dappled brown tabby went rolling roughly down the steep incline.
Loachwhisker tumbled, caught air, and bounced with a hideous squelch against the hillside a tree-length above their heads. And still, she rolled down and down like a loose stone, flying across their path and finally sliding to a mangled mess at the bottom.
"Aw… nah, nah," Petey groaned, leaving back the way they'd come. Sneezy shuffled his paws, nervously pressing himself as close to the side of the butte as possible, as if an errant wind might blow him off and send him tumbling the same way.
Goosebelly just winced. What's striped and brown and red all over? He supposed that meant they'd started without him. Most of his rogues had tagged close to the rest of the war party, earnest bunch that they were, but as Clawtower came into view, Goosebelly managed to slowly shuffle his way to the rear of the pack.
Blame his old legs, but it seemed Sorreltail and the others had put some distance on them.
He had only begun to creep forward again up the trail when he froze again, hackles rising. Fear-scent was heavy in the air as a shape went scrambling toward him in the dark, only to freeze itself at the sight of a LeafClan cat blocking her path.
Yellow eyes gleamed from the dark, the light brown she-cat with a cream belly pressing herself low to the ground.
Goosebelly puffed himself up twice his size, and he was nothing if not big. "What's your name and rank, MireClan cat?" he demanded, bluffing his courage.
"A warrior, and my name is Snakethroat," she mewed lowly, and he thought she looked quite like a snake too, flat to the earth as she was. "Are you not Goosebelly? The one who killed Nettlefang?"
So it seemed like his rumor-mongering had found some purchase after all. He'd been telling anyone that would listen, and these swamp-rabbits actually bought it. Some warrior's glory and reputation, and easily won too.
"As good a warrior as him, whoever I be," he mewed with a twitch of his whiskers. "If I sweat, they're your favorite lover's teardrops and they fall for your death. So you ought to quiver and plead for mercy, if you're wise."
"I think you are Goosebelly," Snakethroat rasped faintly. "And knowing that, I surrender to your mercy."
At this rate, he was as storied a warrior as Blackfang. He might even be mistaken for him, if not for his stomach. But chin higher now, Goosebelly led his prisoner back up the slope, Sneezy in tow.
The sacred grove, where all four Clans met in peace every full moon, was splattered with blood. Sorreltail stood together with Owlswoop and Tansyslip, paws and muzzles still speckled with red. There was a dark spot on the face of the Greenstone where generations of LeafClan leaders had sat, where Jaywind's skull had been dashed against the boulder, leaving the young warrior a crumpled heap on the ground.
Hardly a fox-length away from her was Shrikewing, their medicine cat, golden eyes glazed over and lifeless, mouth still parted in the midst of some unspoken last word. The MireClan deputy splayed awkwardly on the ground, his face buried in the earth, and when Snakethroat saw him, she gave out a shrill gasp.
Sorreltail's eyes flicked over to the latecomers. "The heat's past. Round everyone back up here, Owlswoop."
The senior warrior left to the task as Sorreltail stood and turned to approach him, eyes narrowed.
"Now, Goosebelly, where have you been all this while? When everything is ended, then you come. These tardy tricks of yours will get you sent back to Twolegplace for good, one of these days."
"I never knew threats and insults were the reward for valor," Goosebelly huffed. "Do you think I'm a swallow, or a hare, or a hawk? Do you think a cat as old as me can move as fast as thoughts? I sped after you as fast as I could, old, stumbling through the black night… and still, in my immaculate valor, captured Snakethroat of MireClan, a most furious warrior and valorous enemy."
He gestured to the brown and cream tabby beside him, whose eyes flicked nervously between the LeafClan cats.
Goosebelly went on, "She saw me and yielded. I came, saw, and I, erm, overcame."
"It was more her courtesy than your deserving," Sorreltail said with a skeptical glance.
"How else could she be brought before you? Here she is, and here I give her to your judgment. And let me ask that you put in a good word to your father about my bravery today." Or he might just bring her back to camp for a re-enactment.
That sounded like excellent good fun; and of course, all the unimportant characters like Sorreltail and Owlswoop could be pushed to the background where they belonged. If he was forced to do that, then it'd certainly be the only version anyone in LeafClan would remember, and they'd lose all their poor hard-won glory.
"There's lots of words I could use to describe you, Goosebelly," Sorreltail said dryly. "None of them are good."
"Call me what words you will. Just let your words to Rowanstar do something good for me."
Sorreltail looked the MireClan prisoner up and down. "Your name is Snakethroat?"
Snakethroat nodded, "It is."
"You're a renowned raider, Snakethroat."
"And a renowned LeafClan warrior took her," Goosebelly cut in.
"I may be, but I went where my betters led me," Snakethroat said, keeping her composure. "Had they been ruled by me, you should have won them dearer than you have."
Goosebelly didn't know how much these scattered MireClan warriors might have made some of his clanmates pay. But this Snakethroat had given herself away for free, and for that, he had to be grateful to her.
Owlswoop returned through the trees with a gaggle of warriors after him, breathless, but no clanmates missing. Besides his rogues, anyways. He certainly hoped they hadn't gotten lost in the middle of the four territories.
The LeafClan war party gathered around the bloody clearing, gem-eyed specters in the dark.
"Dispatch her," Sorreltail said with a jerk of his head.
Goosebelly's hackles rose. "Wait, but—"
Tansyslip was the first to obey, leaping from Sorreltail's side with a powerful slash. Both forepaws slashed Snakethroat across the windpipe before she had a heartbeat to jump, dodge, pray, or blink twice. Goosebelly stepped back, recoiling and shutting his eyes from the sight of Snakethroat's washing down her chest, gurgling her last breaths.
"And now we clean up here and head back to camp," Sorreltail said. "Owlswoop, you return ahead of us to Rowanstar. Our victory shall comfort him, I hope. We will follow when we can."
"May I leave as well, to round up these rogues and return them where they belong?" Goosebelly asked. "And, when you're back at camp, remember to spread my good deeds."
"Farewell then, Goosebelly," Sorreltail sighed with exasperation. "I'll speak better of you than you deserve."
I wish you had the wit.
The LeafClan warriors went to work, grabbing corpses by the pair and beginning their grim procession back down, down, down the side of Clawtower.
"Sneezy, see to it," Goosebelly said. "Make sure our lodge friends are not dead. Or lost."
Then he was alone, all alone in this great clearing, wide enough for all four Clans. He clambered on top of one of the Greenstones, trying to force the unsightly memories from his mind.
Sorreltail's face floated in front of him, just a shade off from his brother Sunfire, and his father Rowanstar. This young lizard-blooded warrior did not love him, nor could he make him laugh. But that was no marvel; he had no fun.
There were never any of these demure, quiet, loyal, righteous warriors who came out to anything good. All that obsessing over the warrior code and taking orders chilled their blood, and never tasting a hint of life outside patrols, that they became as tame as kittypets.
They were generally fools and cowards underneath, which the rest of them should be too… but for a bit of rebellion, here and there. Stepping outside your Clan borders, and realizing StarClan wouldn't zap you dead with lightning just for the thought.
Sometimes there was more courage in being a mouse-heart, and knowing when not to obey. So that skill in battle was nothing, and all the warrior training just hoarded knowledge, until it was put to act and use.
That's what made young Sunfire so valiant. The cold blood he naturally inherited from Rowanstar, he had fortified with Twolegplace rats, moonhigh fights with rogues, and sunhigh naps on Twoleg nest roofs.
If he had a thousand kits, the first principle he would teach them should be to forswear a stiff cleanpaw's life, and choose happiness over honor.
Goosebelly contemplated a nap, so long in the waiting, but Sneezy eventually returned. There was Old Scratch behind him, and little Tiny Chicken-slayer, but none of the others. He turned to frown.
"Flea's in a bush and won't come out," Sneezy said. "No sign of Shadow."
This forest was full of shadows. No sense in chasing one more. "Let them go," Goosebelly said with a careless wave of his tail, stretching as he bounded off the Greenstone. "I'm ready to return to the lodge, aren't you?"
He had hoped that the rest of the war party had put some distance on them by the time they reached the foot of Clawtower. But as they left the Gathering place behind them, he saw them not far ahead, a lone dark shape standing in their path. As they approached, Nightbird looked more haggard than he could've imagined, in the moons since he'd seen him last.
All the MireClan cats had scattered, fled back to the marsh. But he stood like a warrior, even as one cat rushed him, and then another and another, until he finally fell below the writhing mass.
Goosebelly did not linger to watch the blood-sport, leading his rogues away, back toward the forest. Back toward Twolegplace. Leave the burying to those who made the mess.
No stories in the elder's den for him, whatever he'd told them. He wasn't that old yet, he told himself. But when Goosebelly, squeezed in through the window of the lodge, near moonhigh, he found the elders waiting for him.
Good stars.
There was a rare, good crowd in the lodge again tonight, and the three LeafClan elders sat among them, sharing tongues and gossiping like old friends. And not just them, but Acornpaw as well, running at their every beck and command.
"Oh, Goosebelly, I am glad you followed us here, glad indeed…!" Threefoot said.
It was a night for stories and reminiscences on long lost moons and all-but-forgotten names, and try as he might, he couldn't help but drown in the past. Half the night passed that way before he stood up.
"By rat and crow, you shall not be away tonight," Threefoot mewed, before turning his head to shout to the other room. "Acornpaw, I say!"
Goosebelly said, "You must excuse me, Threefoot."
"I will not excuse you," Threefoot said. "You shall not be excused. Excuses shall not be admitted. No excuse shall serve." He turned his head again, yowling louder. "Acornpaw!"
Acornpaw finally emerged, poking his head from around the door frame. "Here, Threefoot."
"Acornpaw, Acornpaw, Acornpaw, Acornpaw, let me see, Acornpaw, let me see…" the elder rambled, seemingly forgetting what he'd needed the apprentice for, before his eyes lit up again. "Oh, yes, another rat if you would, Acornpaw. Goosebelly, you shall not be excused."
"You already had two," Acornpaw said.
"Very well," Threefoot sighed. "Are there no young pigeons, then?"
The apprentice retreated with a sigh, returning with a dead bird hanging from his jaws. "Will you keep my mentor and I all night?" he asked, flinging it to the elder's paws.
"Yes, Acornpaw, yes," Threefoot purred, before lowering his voice. "Oh, you must watch your tail around these rogues, Acornpaw. They are true back-biters."
"No worse than they're back-bitten," Acornpaw said with a wrinkle of his nose. "Every single one's full of fleas."
"Ah, well-conceited, Acornpaw," Threefoot laughed. "Go on, about your business, then. Where are you, Goosebelly? Oh, come, come, come. Shall we hunt? I'd like to explore these dark Twolegplace streets once again… You come as well, Drippy…!"
"I'd be glad to," Sneezy mewed eagerly, without bothering to correct him.
"I thank you with all my heart, kind Drippy. And you, my tall Acornpaw, you come as well. Come, Goosebelly!"
"I'll be right behind you, Threefoot," Goosebelly said, watching him hobble out of the lodge and into the night, the other elders creeping after him. "Keep an eye that he doesn't slip on the Horsepath and kill himself, Sneezy," he added, letting the sooty black tom run after him.
Back-biters, rogues, and soft-minded old elders. Let good cats take heed of their company; he'd devise enough joke material at Threefoot's expense to keep Sunfire laughing until leaf-fall left and came back around again.
A lie with a kernel of truth, a joke told with a sad brow. It would keep a careless young deputy who'd never had the ache in his shoulders laughing until his face looked like a wrinkled wet blanket.
"Goosebelly…!" Threefoot called, from somewhere outside the lodge.
"I'm coming, Threefoot, I'm coming."