BOULDERSTEP
It was only one leaf-bare ago when, ragged and thin and bleeding, they still beamed in triumph when they came streaming back to this camp. How glad he was just to sleep in his old, cold nest in the warrior's den again.
There had never been a newleaf and greenleaf so full of promise in all his many seasons, and when leaf-fall came, LionClan voices shook the trees with his name as he announced his retirement to the elder's den.
Sunstar would lead them for long, long after he was gone. There was no place for an old warrior like him, in such gentle, peaceful days as these. In truth, many moons of serving the Clan had left himself feeling battered, bruised, broken, a bad back and always aching shoulders.
He thought he'd be glad to rest easy.
Leaf-fall brought the promise of more kits, after Swiftstorm's greenleaf litter didn't survive their first sundown. But it was as if the first cold winds brought in their first taste of grief, when Rainripple didn't survive the birth of her small, weakly little Redkit.
Their leader mourned, but did not falter, even when some of the meadow-cats began questioning his rule. Even when heavy snows buried the dens, the river thrice flooded, and greencough swept the prairie and forest alike. Even then, he marched at the head of patrols, pillaging Twoleg gardens for life-saving catmint, leading border patrols against MireClan prey-stealers.
Even when it took Murkpool and Close-eye, leaving Boulderstep alone in LeafClan's elder's nest until Owlswoop joined him. Even when the greencough sickened Lilystar, and Sunstar himself. Until he was so sick, so weak, their leader fell face first into the grass while out hunting. Ever since, the Hollow Ash had been turned over into a makeshift medicine den, Elmseed and Hollypaw attending their leader day and night as the senior warriors cycled in and out.
Leaf-bare had come again, and yet the last leaf-bare's triumph seemed a distant memory. There were storm clouds brewing over LionClan, the meadows and the forest alike. Their golden leader curled up in his nest beneath the beam of moonlight, his littermates Honeypad and Sorreltail at his side. The medicine cat kept to the shadows behind them, Elmseed meticulously laying out her herbs in neat rows.
"Listen," his ragged voice came, raising his head weakly. "I will not outlive this night."
"Good cheer, brother," Sorreltail purred, despite his sad smile. "You speak like you're not our leader. This greencough would have to be nine times as strong to take you down for long."
The golden tom outstretched a trembling paw, grim expression unchanged as he reached out to them. Both siblings laid their paws firmly over his.
Sunstar looked at each of them in turn. "The Clan must rely on your strength and leadership," he rasped. "When I am gone—"
"StarClan has blessed you with youth and nine lives," Honeypad reasoned. "If you fall you will rise up healthy again, and again, and again. Why do you speak so grimly?"
From the dark, Elmseed's golden eyes flashed in the half-light as she raised her head, but she looked back down to her herbs again without saying a word.
"Please, listen awhile," Sunstar wheezed, before devolving into a fit of coughs that convulsed his whole body. "I have only so much breath to spare."
The littermates looked to each other, and then to Boulderstep, but each gave a respectful nod to their leader.
"I say these words before StarClan… Honeypad will be LionClan's deputy."
Honeypad's eyes widened, as Elmseed's hackles raised. Sorreltail couldn't contain his surprise, tail lashing back and forth. Ever since LeafClan's conquest, there had been no deputy in name, except for Sunstar himself. Sunstar, deputy to Lilystar, to rule over their joined Clans when the old leader was gone. Yet, Lilystar still lived, ill and aged as he was.
"But listen close…" Sunstar said, mismatched golden eyes glowering from his half-scarred face. "When you commune with StarClan, if they do not bless you with nine lives… You must not take the name Honeystar. Promise me that you will wait for StarClan's sign, for the dawn-bringer…"
"I don't know what you mean," Honeypad said, tripping over her own uncertainty. "How will I know this sign? What is this dawn-bringer?"
"Ask for StarClan's guidance," he gasped back weakly. "The Oak said to look to the half-Clan."
Elmseed pressed between the siblings now, leaning over the leader. "Sunstar, you ought to drink water and rest. You can tell us these things again in the morning, when your mind is more clear."
"There will be no sunup until three are joined in one," Sunstar whispered, a shiver shuddering through his whole body.
The medicine cat planted a paw against the leader's head. "You're burning up," she mewed noncommittally. "Sunstar, I fear you're not making much sense right now. I have feverfew and dandelions—"
Sunstar swatted the medicine cat away, making her stagger back.
"May StarClan forgive my many mistakes," he said. "I only did what I did so my Clan might prosper." He gazed up at Honeypad, gesturing her closer with a twitch of his tail.
She leaned in, as he whispered something close to her ear. The words were indistinguishable to the rest of them, but Boulderstep watched how the dusky ginger she-cat's tail bushed out, hackles standing on end.
"I promise, Sunstar," Honeypad said to the unheard whisper.
"Sorreltail," their leader said now, as Honeypad pulled away. "Be like a deputy to our sister, her counsel, her claws. You must keep the meadows at all costs. Do not yield a blade of grass. Do not let all that blood be for nothing. Promise me."
"I swear to you, Sunstar," Sorreltail answered.
And at last, he looked to Boulderstep, even as his breathing grew shallow. "Boulderstep," he wheezed. "Promise me you will be a guardian to my son. Teach him what it means to be a warrior. Protect him. Be a father to him. All of you, be a kind father to him…"
"So I swear to you, Sunstar," Boulderstep said with a solemn dip of his head.
Their leader sank back into his nest, closing his eyes with a long exhale. His last words were barely greater than a whisper. "Lilystar still survives."
In a blink, the Hollow Ash was steeped in pitch darkness, as the broad wing of an owl swooped overhead. So low, they could hear the whoosh of its wings. And as it passed, the moonlight restored, and Sunstar was no longer breathing in his nest. There was no rise or fall to his flank, no movement in his paws, or tail, or whiskers.
They stood together, breaths hitched, waiting for the promised moment. When StarClan would breathe life back into that old shell of a body yet again, and he would come gasping back to life, healed of sickness.
But from that nest, Sunstar never stirred again.
He and the other elders laid his body in the center of camp, grooming his fur and daubing his pelt with rosemary, lavender, and sharp watermint. The green hollow swelled with cats, mourners gathered around him from sunup to sundown, sharing their final tongues with their lost leader.
Boulderstep stood alongside Owlswoop and Ivyflower.
He peered into the streamers of light that made up Silverpelt, trying to find Sunstar among his warrior ancestors. Surely such a star would blaze brighter than all the rest, as it did on earth. Boulderstep remembered the weeping comets at sunup, when exiled Rowanthorn returned to LeafClan territory, and wondered why StarClan did not cast itself down now.
Soon, as the moon climbed, they would bear him to the poppy fields where generations of LeafClan dead lay buried.
"Great Sunstar, too famous to live long," Sorreltail intoned, steeped in emotion. "LeafClan never lost a leader of so much worth."
"LionClan never had a leader before his time," Honeypad said. "What should I say? His deeds exceed all speech. He never lifted up his claws but conquered."
"We mourn, but why do we not mourn in blood?" Boulderstep said, head snapping to LionClan's new deputy. A new leader, perhaps? Yet he couldn't stop thinking back to Sunstar's dying words. "Sunstar is dead and never shall revive. We stand here, glorifying death's dishonorable victory, when we should honor his memory with new triumphs."
There were already MeadowClan cats who had split off from the LionClan camps, rejecting the peace Lilystar and Sunstar had built and living like marauding rogues on the prairie. With Sunstar gone, his stomach churned at the thought of what might follow.
"He was a leader blessed by StarClan," the medicine cat's voice sounded from nearby, as Elmseed looked gently over each of the assembled cats. "Unto his enemies, foxes and badgers were not half so dreadful as was his sight. He fought only where StarClan directed him, and it was our prayers that made him so prosperous—"
"Prayers?" Honeypad scoffed, tail twitching in agitation. "What good were your prayers and medicine when he was sick in his nest? It was a warrior's claws that won those battles, not your babbling. You did nothing but pour dishonorable advice in his ear as a medicine cat, and could not even muster up the skills to heal him when he truly depended on you. Perhaps you'd like a weaker leader more pliable to your schemes?"
Would it begin so soon? Sunstar's body was hardly cold, and already, cats bickered over his corpse.
Boulderstep remembered young Elmkit seeming so sweet, reserved, an obedient apprentice to old Murkpool. Sometimes, perhaps, a bit caustic with her sarcasm. But as Murkpool and Raggedweed retired and she took her full name and rites as a trained medicine cat, she'd found her voice, and learned to use it often. And as their medicine cat, all warriors, even their leader, were bound to listen.
And many did, and Elmseed would often keep speaking, even after Sunstar's last word. It wouldn't be their first butting of heads.
Elmseed's tail twitched in agitation. "Honeypad, whatever we like, you are now our deputy and look to command the entire Clan. But Sunstar was clear that you may not be our leader." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You are mates with Waspclaw, and we both know my sister is proud. I wouldn't be surprised if she starts filling your head with delusions of grandeur—"
"Don't bring my mate into this," Honeypad snarled. "Don't even bring StarClan into this. I've never heard a medicine cat speak as vilely as you, or met one so willing to skirt around the code. Someone like you doesn't pray, except to prey on their foes—"
"Cease, cease this bickering and rest your minds at peace!" Sorreltail hissed between them. "Not while my brother lies there. Don't disappoint his spirit." The reddish tabby's green eyes turned soft as he lifted his eyes to Silverpelt. "Sunstar, may your spirit guide us still. Prosper this Clan, keep it from conflict, combat with the stars that try to prevent it. Because your star will shine in our skies brighter than Leafstar or—"
A yowl of alarm ripped through the cold dusk. Boulderstep turned as Quailtail rushed through the bramble tunnel, panting and breathless. "Health to you all," the muscular brown tabby breathed, amber eyes flicking between the senior warriors. "I'm sorry, but I bring sad tidings from the prairie… Loss, slaughter, defeat. MeadowClan cats have set up border markers all the way to the river."
"What are you saying?!" Sorreltail hissed, tail upright in alarm now. "In front of Sunstar's body? Speak softly, or your words might cause him to rise again in fury."
"Are the meadows lost?" Honeypad gasped. "If Sunstar were recalled to life, this news would kill him again."
"How could they be lost?" Boulderstep growled. "What treachery was used?"
"No treachery, but we are overstretched over so much territory," Quailtail said, bristling. "Our border patrol was ambushed, encircled, scattered, and chased back across the river."
Bad news on bad, as if they needed more reason to shed tears today.
Sorreltail stood up straight. "This is my fight," he said. "Give me a war party. I'll fight for the meadows. Enough grief, enough tears, enough inaction."
"When news came back of Sunstar's death, most of the MeadowClan warriors living in the other camps revolted," Quailtail went on.
"What of Lilystar?" Ivyflower gasped. "He stirs them to this?"
"Dead of greencough, this past night," Quailtail said to more gasps. "Thistleteeth has declared himself MeadowClan's next leader. Brokenface has joined with him, Poppypetal, Cricketsong, and many others."
Thistleteeth, a leader, Boulderstep despaired in his thoughts. All fly to him. There were many meadow-born cats in their camp right now, even as they spoke, and other daylight warriors once loyal to MeadowClan who may not have even heard the news. What might they do? How could they escape this reproach? LionClan suddenly felt like a sweet dream shattered upon waking.
"We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats," Honeypad vowed, orange eyes locking on her brother. "Sorreltail, if you are slack, I'll fight it out."
"Honeypad, do you doubt me as a warrior?" Sorreltail snapped, hackles raised. "I've already overrun MeadowClan in my thoughts."
"There's more," Quailtail finally said with a hard swallow. "Far more dismal news."
"Where is the rest of your patrol?" Elmseed demanded, shouldering forward past the senior warriors. "It was led by Hawkwing, was it not?"
"It was," the warrior said. "We were near the barn camp when we split off to cover more ground… They caught us around the fruit trees, encircled us. Thistleteeth himself was there. But even outnumbered as we were, Hawkwing did wonders with his claws and teeth, and might have won the day if it weren't for that mouse-hearted kittypet, Rootnose."
Quailtail spat at the name. Rootnose was one of their daylight warriors, a barn cat who had taken quite the liking to the forest. It crossed the warrior code in his mind, to not reject the soft life of a kittypet. Yet it was a MeadowClan practice to recruit, train, and honor such outsiders with warrior names, and Sunstar had accepted them as full members of LionClan.
And for Sunstar, they might forgive anything.
"That pretend-warrior took one look at their numbers and fled without a swipe of his claws, I swear," Quailtail hissed. "Hawkwing had trusted him to guard his rear, and when Rootnose turned tail, some barn-born kittypet thrust their claws in Hawkwing's back to win Thistleteeth's favor. Even with all their strength, they couldn't dare look him in the face."
"Is Hawkwing killed?" Sorreltail exclaimed.
"No, he lives, but taken prisoner," Quailtail said with a grimace. "Graymask with him."
"There is no ransom I wouldn't give for his life," Sorreltail went on, tail lashing. "I'll take four of their warriors captive and force a trade, or drag Thistleteeth himself back here by the whiskers. Farewell, all; I'll begin choosing my war party. Our bloody deeds will make the grasslands quake."
"You must not delay," Quailtail urged. "Tansyslip heads a small garrison in one of the riverside camps; I have no idea how they fare."
Boulderstep wished he were just one leaf-bare younger, with some last desperate strength to give his Clan now. "Remember your oaths you swore to Sunstar," he reminded them. "To never give up the meadows."
"I do remember it," Sorreltail said, eyes dark, words firm and resolved. And without another word of farewell besides a nod to Honeypad, he turned with a yowl, summoning LionClan warriors to his side.
Honeypad mewed, "I'll see to the camp's defenses, and begin my preparations to go to Standing Stones. But this MeadowClan rebellion must be our top priority." And so she turned, scrambling up the Hollow Ash as Sunstar, Rowanstar, Rosestar, Stormstar, all the leaders of their lives had climbed before.
And I must go to Redkit, Boulderstep thought to himself. To guide him, teach him, protect him. That was his oath to Sunstar, and as an elder, it would also be his duty to bury their old leader by next sunrise.
Ivyflower dispersed with a wordless shake of her head, tail drooping in despair. All other warriors, queens, split into small cliques and groups, now buzzing around the camp like crazed bees. After all, their nest had been prodded.
As Owlswoop left Boulderstep's side, rushing to his son Quailtail, he was left alone with the medicine cat, still standing vigil over Sunstar's corpse.
"Boulderstep," the medicine cat said after a quiet moment. "There is something strange about Redkit, don't you think?"
"He is only a kit," Boulderstep sighed. A kit without a mother and a father now, alone except for his Clan and surviving kin. When he was born, so scrawny he was, most feared he would not long outlive his mother. But yet, even in the unkindness of leaf-bare, he had lived.
Yes, there was something off about him. So unresponsive to the queens and other kits at first, they even thought he might be deaf, until it proved his hearing was selective. He did not talk until he was near two moons old, and still did not walk or play on steady legs. Even Flykit and Nutkit were starting to fly around the nursery with more speed and strength, and so much younger.
And with the shaking fits and off-putting, stiff staring into the clouds or grass, it was no wonder the queens whispered about young, simple, incomprehensible Redkit.
It did not matter to him. Runts, the deaf and blind, cats with no tails or three legs; cats such as these had made great warriors before. Why not Redkit?
Elmseed gently swished her tail. "I think you mistake me, Boulderstep," she said. "I believe there is something blessed about Redkit. A connection to StarClan. And when he reaches six moons old, I would like to take him as my apprentice."
That made Boulderstep blink in surprise, lashing his tail. "You already have an apprentice," he said. "Does Hollypaw wish to give up her medicine cat training?"
"No, no, nothing of the sort," Elmseed said lightly with a flick of her ears. "But we are twice the Clan now, and when StarClan sends a promising kit, we must trust their wisdom. I was my own mentor's second apprentice, after all. And I wouldn't like to be like Murkpool, spending my hard-won elder days training a young scamp. The Clan will only be more secure with another medicine cat."
The elder gave an uncertain roll of his head. "Redkit is still so young. He may decide he desires a warrior's path instead." It was no small thing to ask a kit of six moons old if they would dedicate the rest of their life to the medicine den. To have no kits, no mates of their own. To share secrets with StarClan that one had to hold in their heart, away from all others.
A taboo that had not stopped Elmseed from tangling with clanmates and otherwise, according to rumors. But he pushed vile rumor out of his mind. There was no time for ill thoughts about clanmates now, least of all their medicine cat.
With no true leader, and waiting for this sign, their medicine cat's guidance was more important than ever.
Up close, he could still make out the faint outline of scars beneath her fur. Three clean-cut claw marks, swiped across her face during the battle of the hawthorns. Sometimes, Boulderstep thought this medicine cat had the temperament and appetites of a warrior instead.
"Perhaps," Elmseed relented. "But I think StarClan will make their will in him clear enough. He is blessed, Boulderstep. And this sunup will bring a new age."