IVYFLOWER
AN: Seems like I uploaded this chapter to the Doc Manager last week, but never actually posted it... oops.
There was no passing the night with sleep, not for her. Could that be the case for any cat in LeafClan? Who could find peaceful rest at a time like this, when the unknown yawned above her? Ivyflower watched the star-showers at sunup with the rest of the Clan, or at least who was left in camp. Red and white streaks through the clouds, the very stars themselves flinging themselves from the bloody skies to the earth below.
Some cowered at the terror, some marveled at the beauty. They all wondered the true meaning of it.
When Beethorn returned with word of Briarstalk and Greeneyes' deaths, she didn't recall anything but stunned silence. When Murkpool beseeched her for permission to leave, she didn't say no, and Shrikepaw was gone hours later.
The empty LeafClan camp only grew emptier.
A deputy's voice… That's what Elderheart told her. The camp was her responsibility.
She at least had one friend to confide in, and a true one. Mousespots, her denmate in the nursery, laid curled up with her nose tucked into her tail, eyes closed, but she did insist she was listening.
"We should do something to take our minds off things," Ivyflower murmured, pacing a steady circle in front of the nursery. "A game, or…"
"A nap?" Mousespots suggested with a yawn.
"How can you nap at a time like this?" Ivyflower moaned, tail whipping. "There's no way I can get to sleep in these conditions."
"Me neither now, I suppose." Her yellow eyes were half-slits now.
It didn't escape her that Mousespots' mate and son were out there at Rowanthorn's side, on some fateful collision course with her own mate. But all that aside, she could still sleep not knowing what would happen next?
"Why don't you fix up the camp walls again? Like, over there." Mousespots gestured in some vague, unknowable direction with a loose flap of her tail.
"How many times can I do that over again? I've already done it." Ivyflower paced a fox-length and then turned again, on a pendulum guided by the fluttering in her heart. "Why? Do you think they're not secure enough? Do you think there'll be an attack?"
"Mm, no. Nevermind." Mousespots sat up with another loud, shuddering yawn, blinking sleep from her eyes. "How about we swap stories?"
"Stories about what?"
"Anything. I don't know."
"Oh, thistle fluff, I can't think of any right now."
Mousespots gave a heavy sigh. "Maybe the elders have a few tales. In fact, I know they do. Ask them for advice."
Ivyflower matched her sigh but stopped her pacing, glancing over across camp toward the elder's den. "Oh, but will you come with me?"
" Yes, I suppose…"
Morning in LeafClan camp was off-kilter. There were no warriors rising from their nests or setting off for patrol, no apprentices, no chatter rising in the frosty morning air, no queens gathered around the fresh-kill pile. The kits, blissfully, had thus far obeyed her command not to leave the nursery.
She approached the elder's den in silence, a thick and ancient hawthorn, cozily hollowed out near its base and under the shelter of the spiky leaves. In her kithood, the elders invited her to snack on those leaves when they were tender in newleaf, or taste the tart, tangy red berries.
If one didn't stop and stoop low enough, their coats might get snagged by the thorns. Many young apprentices had learned to slow down before entering the elder's den the painful way, and by habit, she stopped at the mouth of the den and crouched.
Before making herself known, the sound of hushed voices within made her pause, prick her ears, and listen. She held up her tail to Mousespots for silence, peering through the thick leaves to the dark shapes of the elders in comfortable nests around the roots of the hawthorn.
"Remember, it was prophesied by the old HillClan medicine cat…"
"It was always Stormstar's last folly," a cracked voice rasped. That could only be Close-eye, the white she-cat with ragged ears and a horrible slash down her face. "When Blackfang died, Lionpelt should have been named deputy, not some honey-tongue barely out of the apprentice's den."
Deadnose nodded sagely along, or perhaps she was dozing.
"Oh, if Blackfang had lived, we'd still hunt in all four territories," Threefoot warbled. "His shadow leads us now."
" Nobody leads us now," Close-eye said. "I think we have seen the last of Rosestar in LeafClan."
Ivyflower felt her hackles rise.
"Do you truly believe so?" Threefoot wondered aloud, his voice all birdsong and whistles.
Deadnose continued to nod, or perhaps her head just bobbed like that all the time.
"The disordered weeds Rosestar fostered and sheltered, now eat him from the roots up," Close-eye said. "It's their entire generation. There is no respect for the warrior code anymore; Rowanthorn defies his banishment, kills his clanmates, and still the Clan warriors support him."
"His exile was ill done, ill done," Threefoot murmured. Deadnose nodded.
"Regardless, it was pronounced by the leader of the Clan. If our leader's words have no power, if the strong can do as they please, then we have forgotten the warrior code. We are rogues now."
"But do you truly think Rosestar will give up leadership?" Threefoot asked.
"It's not up to Rosestar's choosing," Close-eye answered. "But who would follow him now, even if he fought for it?"
"Surely, you don't think that Rowanthorn means to—"
She couldn't take anymore, bursting into the elder's den with such ferocity that she barely even noticed the sting of thorns snagging her pale gray fur.
"What do you think you're saying about our leader?" Ivyflower demanded, intending to sound commanding, but her voice came out as a choked sob instead.
Close-eye almost jumped out of her pelt, tail bushing out twice its normal size, with Threefoot giving a loud yowl of fright. Deadnose's reaction seemed a long heartbeat delayed, blinking hard and leaning back so far in her nest that her muzzle tucked into her throat.
"Ivyflower, I didn't mean to—"
"Shut up! I hope your nest crawls with fleas!" Ivyflower said, interrupting Close-eye as she started to speak. The queen rounded on Threefoot. "You are a one-winged cockroach!" Gesturing at Deadnose now with her tail, the queen's green eyes stung with tears. "You're not even alive!"
Deadnose didn't nod, but produced a rumbling sound in her throat that might have been anything.
"Sweet one, I only speak what everyone knows," Close-eye said gently. "For your sake, I wish it weren't true. But when the warriors return to camp, you'll see—I stake my last moons on it."
Ivyflower backed and raced out of the elder's den now, almost bowling Mousespots out of the way and making the low-hanging boughs shake and quiver, spiky leaves raking her pelt.
If everyone knew, then why was she the last to know it?
LeafClan was like a pit of trapped rats, all scrambling over each other's heads.
Mousespots trudged after her, weakly calling her name. "Ivyflower, really! In all the stars, I don't think I've ever heard you use rude words like that…"
She didn't return to the nursery, but to Rosestar's den under the roots of the Hollow Ash, where his scent was strongest, almost as if he were there with her now.