GOOSEBELLY

The LeafClan cats clung close to fences, lounging in Twoleg gardens, rolling in sprigs of catmint and watching birds bathe their wings in tall stone basins. Even in the depths of leaf-fall, these little squares of paradise bloomed with color, flowers and plants he never saw wild in the forest.

Perfect shade to lie under, and far from scenes of blood.

Goosebelly knew Twolegplace well, certainly more than he should've, but walking with Acornpaw and the elders, he felt like he was seeing it all again with fresh eyes.

"Now this is a good spot," Threefoot piped admiringly around this latest garden, settling down beneath the spacious shade of a diminutive mulberry tree. Its branches drooped down in a weeping curtain, red dawn parting between the screen of leaves. "A good spot for sharing fresh-kill and tongues with old clanmates, and so forth. Come, Deadnose… And then to nap, come sunhigh…"

Deadnose seemed to be getting an advance on that napping, face tucked in her own chest, snoring and wheezing like a badger rooting through a warren. They had spent half the night exploring these gardens, hunting rats between the alleys, like cats half their age.

The other elders settled in close by the roots, with Sneezy on the edge of the leaves, scratching furiously behind his ear with his hind leg. He could practically see the fleas jump off him.

"By StarClan, this is a lovely place," Goosebelly agreed, gazing around the short-cropped grass, drinking in the blend of aromas.

"Compared to StarClan's hunting grounds, barren, barren, barren… But at least we have good air." Threefoot bobbed his head sagely before turning to Acornpaw. "Young Sunpaw, you were ever the scamp, weren't you? Would you be a good lad and see about finding an elder some fresh-kill?"

"Acornpaw," Goosebelly corrected. "He is a good lad, though."

"A good apprentice, a good apprentice, a very good apprentice," Threefoot purred, his voice scratchy. "Oh, by StarClan's wounds, I've worn myself clear out, I think… A good apprentice. Now, sit down, sit down… Come, Deadnose."

"Ticks on rest. We shall do nothing but eat and make good cheer," Close-eye purred.

He'd always thought her a stiff one, not just on account of her age, and Goosebelly had to twitch his whiskers in pleasant surprise. "There's a merry heart," Goosebelly chortled.

"Drippy, you may share our fresh-kill as well," Threefoot said. "Why not?"

Acornpaw had slipped out from under the mulberry tree then, scrambling up and over a fence and into the crooked web of Horsepaths beyond.

"Be merry, Drippy," Threefoot babbled, head still bobbing. "Now, that young Rowanpaw is an excellent apprentice…"

"Do you suppose any kittypets live in these gardens?" Close-eye pondered. "Would they challenge us? It's been too long since I tested my claws."

"I didn't think you still had it in you," Goosebelly said with a grin.

"Who, me?" Close-eye said with a toothy smile. "I've made some mischief once or twice now."

Acornpaw was not gone long, a black rat clutched in his teeth by the spine. Either to his credit as a hunter or a testament to his size, the rat looked half the size of him, its tail and clawed feet dragging across the ground as the apprentice hauled it back.

"Sunpaw!"

"That's not my name," Acornpaw managed, muffled by the fresh-kill in his mouth as he laid it carefully down between his mentor, the rogue, and the three elders.

"Thank you," Close-eye said. "To Acornpaw and StarClan, for giving us this prey, and to all our fine company. A happy heart lives long, when nourished by friends."

"Well said, Close-eye," Goosebelly said.

"And we shall be merry now," she went on. "Now's the sweetest time, in the early morning."

They each leaned down to eat, and shared tongues as if they were warriors, and this were their camp. Swapping stories about age old gossip, however many moons and long seasons forgotten, as the last of night dissipated and the sun climbed and climbed.

Ah, where did all the time go?

"I hope to see LeafClan camp once before I die," Sneezy said.

"And I might see you there, Sneezy," Acornpaw said. "We'll show you all the…" The apprentice's voice trailed off, head swiveling, ears perked, mouth parted to taste the air. Without another word, he slipped away and back up onto the fence to investigate some far-off sound.

Acornpaw could have the attention span of a fly, sometimes. In that fashion, he took after his mentor. Close-eye finished off the last of the rat while their heads were turned, finishing it off with a rude belch.

"Why, now you've done me right," Goosebelly said. "You still have some quickness and stealth too, I see."

"Is it so?" Close-eye said with a ragged purr. "Well then, admit an elder can still do some things."

"Goosebelly," Acornpaw called from the top of the fence. "There's Scratch coming this way."

"From the lodge? Let her come."

Acornpaw gave a signal with his tail and leaped back down. In a moment, Old Scratch was on top of the fence in her place, scrambling back down with graceless, hurried speed.

"How now, Scratch?" Goosebelly asked cordially. Sure, they had put their claws on each other not so long ago, but that was nothing new. Since then, they had fought side by side at Clawtower, at least in a manner of speaking. The other cats of Twolegplace had named her Old Scratch, not her mother, and it was for good reason.

"Goosebelly, SkyClan save you," Scratch yawped.

"What wind blew you here, Scratch?" he questioned.

"Not the ill wind that blows no cat to good," she went on, in her usual style. It was a sodding dialect of itself sometimes, trying to decipher her, like trying to communicate with a magpie or a squawking crow. "Sweet warrior, you are now one of the greatest cats in all the forest."

"Greatest in circumference?" Close-eye asked with a flick of her ears.

"Circumwho? Where is that?" Scratch hissed, turning a wild green eye on the elder, before swiveling her head back toward him. "Goosebelly, I am your Scratch and your friend, and helter-skelter have I come to you. And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, and golden days, and happy news…!"

"Then please, deliver your news like a cat of this world," Goosebelly sighed, although he couldn't help but feel his curiosity piqued. Another good lead from Nimble, perhaps? Some easy prey to be stolen?

"Thistles for the world and wordlings base!" she snarled. "I speak of the forest, and golden joys! Shall dunghill curs confront the singing lark, and shall good news be baffled?!"

Deadnose continued to snort, head down, no telling if she was asleep or awake. But Close-eye looked fully burnt of patience. "Who made you like this?"

Did he have to play along? "Old Scratchclaw, as your LodgeClan leader, let me know the truth."

"Wildcats searched for you at the lodge, all in vain," Old Scratch rasped, grinning now. "Goosebelly, your tender lambkin now is leader. Great Sunstar is arrived!"

Close-eye gave a quiet gasp, as Goosebelly stood abruptly to his paws.

"I speak the truth," Scratch said. "When Scratch lies, do this—" She slashed wildly through the air in a flurry of blows, yowling all the while, "—and flay me, like the MireClan braggart!"

"What, is Rowanstar dead?" Goosebelly asked breathlessly.

"As mouse in dor," Scratch confirmed. "The things I speak are just."

The day had come. His apprentice, his son he'd never had, now a leader. "Let's get going, Sneezy," Goosebelly said. "Threefoot, think about what you'll have of me, when I'm deputy. It's yours. Scratch, you will be sleeping with us in the warrior's den soon enough."

"Oh, joyful day!" Sneezy trilled. "Our Sunfire is the leader! I wouldn't take an entire turkey over this."

"What, I do bring good news!" Scratch purred.

Goosebelly paced around the trunk of the mulberry tree now. "Wake Deadnose, let's get her to camp. Close-eye, Threefoot, a new, freer day begins. Come, Sneezy, come, Scratch!"

He knew the young leader would be needing him now, and he would go. All of LeafClan were soon to be at their commandment. Blessed are they that have been my friends, Goosebelly thought, and woe to poor Hawkwing.

"Why, here it is!" Scratch shouted as they scaled up the fence. "Welcome these pleasant days."

They raced over golden leaves and swollen streams bridged with dead trees. As fast as any cats could race, in their condition. Old, old they might be, but he was to reap the harvest of the future. The new day. No more sneaking around. Cats could live as they pleased, without suffocating on that old lie of honor.

Finally, a leader with a heart. A leader with some common sense, some common empathy. A leader who'd experienced more than patrols and play-fighting under the Father Oak. Someone who knew this warrior code was dusty as Leafstar's bones.

They approached the hollow, through the bramble tunnel, and he was almost deaf to the hisses and incredulous chatter that followed him in.

"Where have you been, Goosebelly?" Boulderstep questioned from the camp entrance, eyes tracking the Clan outsiders that followed him in. "You'd bring these rogues into our camp? And you, Close-eye, Threefoot? Deadnose? I'm accustomed to Goosebelly disappearing for a few sundowns, but the Clan was concerned for you."

"I'll listen to our new leader's judgment on that, not yours," Goosebelly said lazily. "And after all our elders have survived and sacrificed, you'll tell them where and how to spend their time? Tut-tut, Boulderstep. Where is my old apprentice?"

"Not returned from Standing Stones," Boulderstep growled. "They departed after Rowanstar's passing and were expected back before sunhigh today, but are long away."

That did not concern him. Sunfire was never the type to hurry, when you could stroll. For all they knew, he was still sniffing the flowers on the way to the sun-drown-place.

No cat sat in their dens. They were all gathered beneath the pale gray leaf-bare sky, outside their dens or near the roots of the Hollow Ash, waiting for their new leader. Goosebelly found a spot of sun and settled down, the elders, rogues, and his apprentice gathered close around him.

"Stand here by me, Threefoot," Goosebelly said. "Mark his face when I look at him, you'll see how much he loves me, as a mentor and like a father. I'm only glad to have prepared him for this."

"SkyClan bless your lungs, good warrior," Scratch said.

"Come here, Scratch, behind me," he said, before turning back to Threefoot. "You see the zeal I had to see him," he gushed. Sunfire, his Sunfire, once his little Sunpaw, a leader. All the other warriors had done nothing but poke at his expense, even after he became deputy, and would they bow their heads and speak flattering words now?

"It shows," Threefoot mewed approvingly. "It does."

"My earnest affection—"

"It does."

"My devotion—"

"It does, it does, it does."

"Rushing day and night from the heart of Twolegplace to get to his side, over perilous hazards, not even stopping to eat or rest…"

There was commotion from the camp entrance, every cat's head turning as the sentry gave a yowling signal. The anticipation grew thick as Sorreltail walked through the tunnel, then Honeypad, and Elmpaw the medicine cat apprentice. And finally, the golden tom with the scarred face, stone-eyed Hawkwing following behind.

The warriors settled at the roots of the Hollow Ash as the new leader leaped onto its lower branch with a single bound, the heavy bough swaying and swinging beneath his paws as the Clan gathered around. Warriors, queens, apprentices, and elders, even the kits spilling out from the nursery, old gray Murkpool taking his usual place of prominence on one of the old knobbly roots.

Goosebelly bowled through them all, shoving and pushing his way toward the front.

"StarClan save you, Sunfire!" Goosebelly cheered, his joy spilling out in a boisterous laugh that rolled over LeafClan's hollow. "Sunstar, my Sunstar, my good lad! My sweet lad!"

Hawkwing was the one to stand in his path, back him off with a snarl and whip of his tail. "Do you have your wits? Do you know what you speak?"

Goosebelly looked straight past him, to the golden tom so high on the Ash, so still he looked as if he might have been sculpted from the same bark. "Sunstar, my leader, I speak to you! My heart!"

Those uneven golden eyes seared into him now, fixing him in place.

"I know you not, old rogue," Sunstar said in the icy tones of his father. "Fall to your prayers."

It was all Goosebelly could do to blink, staring gormlessly up at the leader on the Ash. Sunstar sat up, straight as a rod, his face a cold mask.

"How white hairs poorly fit a senior warrior, with the carelessness of a kit," their leader spoke, his voice ringing clear and cold through the hollow. "I've long dreamt of such a kind of cat, so swollen, so old, so profane. But being awake, I despise my dream.

"Make yourself less, and learn grace. Leave prey-stealing. Know the grave gapes three times as wide for you than for other cats. "

Goosebelly's tail drooped down, searching for the words, searching for the hint of humor where Sunstar would tell him it was all a joke. Then all the Clan could laugh at his expense, and he'd laugh with them. "Well, I—"

"Do not reply with some fool-born jape," Sunstar interrupted. "Do not presume that I am the thing I was. For StarClan knows, and let the entire forest see, that I have turned away my former self. So will I with all those that kept me company."

He couldn't be serious, could he?

Sunstar mewed, "When you hear that I am as I have been, return to me, and you will be as you were: the mentor and feeder of my indiscretions. Until then, I exile you from LeafClan, on pain of death, as I do for all my misleaders. And to not set foot on LeafClan territory, or be treated as a rogue and a trespasser."

Goosebelly couldn't tear his gaze away from Sunstar. He backed up, blindly, and the rest of the Clan parted from him. He only glimpsed his clanmates as he swept his eyes around LeafClan camp one last time, suddenly dizzy as he turned and staggered for the bramble thicket.

His eyes landed on Threefoot and the other elders a final time, twitching his whiskers as they showered him with pitiful looks. And his apprentice, he gave a light pat on the head.

"Don't grieve at this," Goosebelly assured them. "He'll visit me in private. You'll see, he just has to play his part in front of the Clan."

With that, he padded silently out of LeafClan camp for the final time, Sneezy and Scratch at his heels.

There was a good crowd in the lodge that night, but not a great atmosphere. Goosebelly lounged back on his cushion, hardly able to move, with Socks pacing by the window, Fang and Snare sharing quiet conversation in the corner. Was this to be his home, for the rest of his days?

Well, it had always been a sort of home to him, in a sense. He remembered the first time he brought young Sunpaw here.

"If my fortunes torment me, then hope contents me," Scratch rattled off over half a rat, as Sneezy reared his head back and sneezed. No one acknowledged her.

It was the sounds of fighting outside that made Goosebelly lift himself off the cushion, shooting to his paws.

"No, you utter dog-breath! Rat's blood! You've drawn my shoulder out of joint!" a voice screeched, muffled through the walls, but still instantly recognizable as Miss Mittens.

She didn't come through the window, but streaked through a gap in the old rotten door with a limping gait, two dark shapes hurtling after her. It was Dolly who came scrambling through the window, cursing as she kicked at a cat who tried following her through the same gap.

"Give her a good walloping, Cloverfern," Kestrelstrike hissed, staggering after his littermate. "The ginger one knocked poor Sedgepaw out cold and gave Quailtail a bloody good clawing."

"Mouse-heart! Mouse-heart!" Dolly hissed, pouncing on Kestrelstrike from across the room and laying the spotted tom flat. "Come on, I'll tell you what, you tripe-visaged rascal! I'll make you wish you hit your mother instead, you stoat-faced bushcat!" More LeafClan warriors poured in through every entrance, and entire war party.

"Help, help, turn them out, Goosebelly!" Miss Mittens pleaded, as Fang and Snare went scrambling to flee, and Boulderstep climbed in to shove Socks roughly from a countertop to the floor. Petey, sleeping behind the moth-eaten curtains, went bolting from his hiding place like a bat on fire, racing for the exit.

He could only gaze helplessly as Hawkwing jumped in among them, murky green eyes sweeping the room. "Get them all out! This Twoleg nest is now a LeafClan hunting ground!"

Dolly was spitting in rage, even as the other rogues split and fled for the nearest outlet outside. "Come then, you starved bloodhound, you thin stick-bones, I'll tell you what, I'll—"

But it was all Goosebelly could do to run into the frosty leaf-fall night. Cold, wet cobblestones stretched on into the darkness, the streaking tails of his fleeing friends disappearing into the night, and Twolegplace seemed more menacing and unfamiliar than ever.

Sunstar, my good lad. He'd always known, deep down, that he'd do well.