IVYFLOWER
She had never got the hang of fishing. It seemed like a whole lot of standing and waiting, peering into one's own reflection. It simply didn't feel like hunting. When the ice began to choke the banks like this, in the depth of leaf-bare, the prospect of hovering over the water's edge was even less appealing.
When Lilystar and Morningsky first began assigning her to hunting patrols, some time after first crossing the border, some cats were bold enough to call her drypaw to her face. That hardly bothered her; she'd be proud to be a drypaw and leave the splashing around to the MeadowClan cats.
Rainripple sat among the tall reeds, staring into the depths even now. One fish already flopped weakly on the stream shore, but Ivyflower padded over the snow-blanketed fields far from the water's edge, whiskers low to the ground.
She'd gained a new taste for these, ever since joining MeadowClan. It felt more like the prey she'd hunt back with Rosestar in the forest, during those long leaf-bare nights.
The tracks were unmistakable, a line of small clawed feet over the surface of the snow before suddenly disappearing. In newleaf, they tore up the grass, ploughing grooves in the land. But unlike some other prey, they were active day and night, in any season.
They were in there, somewhere, under all this snow. Voles.
She perked her ears, whiskers brushing the snow as she listened close. And yes, just on the edge of her keen hearing, there was a faint but unmistakable rustle somewhere beneath her feet.
You're already dead. Ivyflower raised up on her hind legs, and like a fox, plunged her paws down into the snow, grinning with satisfaction at the prick of flesh and fur beneath her claws.
By habit, she closed her eyes to speak a quick prayer of thanks to StarClan, gently pulling the fresh-kill out from its hidden tunnel. Rainripple padded over with two small fish dead on the bank now, purring in approval.
"Excellent catch," Rainripple said. The silver and white tabby glanced down at Ivyflower's paws before quickly turning her gaze away, vaguely back in the direction of the camp. "Do you want to try the old barn before we head back?"
They packed their fresh-kill among the snow to collect later and took an easy stroll upstream. Even with the sun glittering on the snow, a pale white disc in a clouded sky, their breath billowed around their muzzles.
The old barn was ahead in the distance, one of MeadowClan's hunting grounds, a long abandoned Twoleg nest with holes and patches in the roof. It was one of several scattered across the prairie; one was even a small camp, bustling with daylight warriors. Others were filled with strange animals, haunted by pink-faced and pink-pawed Twolegs who trudged around day in and day out, making them too dangerous for any cat.
They crossed the pastures and through the open wall. Snow piled up on the dusty planks where the sunlight filtered in, as she parted her mouth to taste the air for mouse-scent.
"Ivyflower, do you mind if I ask you something personal?" Rainripple said as they entered the barn, gazing around.
She piqued her ears, flicking her eyes over to the young MeadowClan warrior. "Of course, anything." They were friends, weren't they?
"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I was wondering…" Rainripple's eyes skated along the wooden posts, the carved bones of dead trees that Twolegs had chopped and snapped together. "Do you ever miss it back in LeafClan?"
Ivyflower felt her tail kink and twitch, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
"There are cats I miss," she answered after a long pause. "Some scents, some places. But that's just nostalgia. MeadowClan is my home now."
"I don't doubt that," Rainripple said, flicking her ears. "Every cat knows your loyalty. LeafClan has just been like a tick in my brain lately. Does it scare you?"
"Well, it hardly fills me with joy," Ivyflower murmured, to Rainripple's snort of amusement. "But scared? No. If any Clan is strong enough to weather this storm, it's ours."
The young silver tabby gave a twitch of her whiskers. "Do you want to hear something stupid?" she said. "When I was a kit, Dacewhisker told us that LeafClan cats couldn't retract their claws, because they were twice as long and sharp as other cats."
"Now, that is stupid," Ivyflower purred. "And you believed it?"
"Until I was almost a warrior? Of course," Rainripple said. Their mews seemed to echo in the stillness of the old barn, filling it with sound and warmth. "And that you lived up in the trees, and could jump from branch to branch without ever touching the ground. All the first LeafClan cats lived like squirrels until the last lions and tigers died, and made it safe to come down to the understory."
"That part is true, of course," Ivyflower said with a twitch of her tail. "Ferocious squirrels, with the longest, sharpest claws."
"I'm sure they tell their mouse-brained stories about MeadowClan as well," Rainripple said lightly. "Something silly about us having Twolegs feed us at night, I'm sure."
The concept of letting kittypets take a warrior's name or letting Twolegs handle a queen's kits were strange to her. Not so strange in MeadowClan, where Twolegs kept great flocks of sheep and herds of cows, but it surprised her how quickly she'd learned to accept how wrong she'd been. It was that same tolerance and open-mindedness that had allowed her to become MeadowClan as well, wasn't it?
In MeadowClan, they would say it's a warrior's heart that mattered, not their blood. Would any warrior say Brokenface wasn't tough because of his loner mother, or that Sheephead was disloyal for loving a kittypet? So long as they acted by the code, that was all that mattered to Lilystar.
Brokenface was her Bristlefur's own son, after all. And that meant she loved him like a son too, although she still foolishly prayed for her own kits some nights.
"We had a vile little rhyme in the nursery, at least when I was growing up," Ivyflower said, thinking back to hot greenleaf days beneath the shade of the bramble thicket. She had to close her eyes to trawl her memory.
"Always trust StarClan to guide—
MeadowClan to beg, HillClan to fly;
MireClan to hide, and LeafClan to fight."
They had a bundle of fresh-kill between the two of them by the time they made the journey back to camp, past sunhigh now. To an outsider, as she once was, the flatlands seemed all the same. For their clanmates, it was easy enough to know that this stream followed up and up to the Old Willow, deep into the heart of MeadowClan territory.
The clouds above had started to tint with a sinister dark underbelly, and the wind began to bite that much fiercer, breaths of ice that threatened rain and freezing sleet. More than time to return to camp, and get some shelter before the rain and snow came, in her view.
But there was another cat returning on the same trail. The young pale brown tabby's green eyes were wild, the fear-scent clinging to her fur as she raced after them. Cricketpaw, one of Snailmoon's kits born at the cusp of greenleaf, and now experiencing her first leaf-bare.
She was also Poppypetal's apprentice, and one of the runners sent to run messages between the trackers and the defense patrols. Ivyflower felt her hackles rise as Rainripple reached the tip of her tail out, the captured prey dropping from her jaws as she went to mouth a question.
"LeafClan raiders…!" Cricketpaw managed, breathless as she staggered past them, barely pausing to stop. "They stormed the barn camp last night! Stole all the herbs and fresh-kill…! And Sunstar, he said, he'd—"
And shaking her head, driven by speechless terror, the apprentice fled upstream with the she-cats following close behind.
Rainripple had asked if it scared her, and of course she'd said no, and of course it was a lie.
The runners were quick to fan out across the prairie, to gather the warriors back in camp. Lilystar sat in the crook of the Old Willow, his head low.
They were journeying out as the clouds seemed to churn and roil with a building, seething rage. Every now and then, as she waited, she felt a cold droplet against her pelt, the first promise of rain.
The Clan was gathered now, their numbers swelling as the patrol leaders answered the summons, one by one. Arched reeds and the loping arms of the Old Willow formed a light shelter against the beginning of a drizzle.
Sunstar had struck at them first, tracking Poppypetal's trackers back to the one of the lesser camps. The opening cut, but they knew his course now. And she could taste the bitter hostility, see the lashing tails and unsheathed claws raking through the loamy soil.
"It is certain they mean to cross back over the river, and return for another raid," Lilystar said gravely, emerald eyes studying his senior warriors.
"And if we do not fight them, let us not live in MeadowClan!" Morningsky hissed, tail whipping.
Snowtuft was silent as ever, but her blue eyes were cold with focused fury. Pikestripe was not half so composed, pacing back and forth beneath the Old Willow, cursing into the clouds, who answered with more icy tears.
"Will we let a kittypet and his rogues run rampant over our own territory?" Pikestripe raged. "Fox-hearts, nothing but rogue fox-hearts, fox-heart rogues!"
"Are their hunting grounds not tangled and barren? Are they not weak, starving, sick, ragged, and few in number?" Morningsky pressed.
Lilystar's voice was calm and firm as he spoke, but she could sense the quiet rage bubbling underneath. "Where is Raggedweed? Speed him hence. Let him greet LeafClan with our sharp defiance."
Mrrows of approval rippled through the gathered warriors, every eye flicking to the leader of MeadowClan, some cats standing to attention. The medicine cat stood on the edge of his heels, yellow eyes glinting in the darkening light.
"Up, MeadowClan, and, with spirit edged even sharper than your claws, hasten to the chase," Lilystar mewed. "Morningsky, Bristlefur, Snowtuft, Plumberry, Snailmoon, Cinderfrost, Hailfall, and Embercloud. Leechnose, Applestem, Dappleleaf, and Stoatjaw. Warriors, wildcat or barn-born, prove the worth of your names and training, and bury this shame. Stop Sunstar, who sweeps through our lands with bloodied claws. Rush down on him—you have power enough—and bring him to this camp as a captive or a corpse!"
Morningsky's golden eyes were alight with new fervor. "This becomes the great," she said, showing a hint of fangs. "It is a pity LeafClan's numbers are so few, their warriors sick and famished in their march. For, I'm sure when Sunstar sees our war party, he'll drop his heart into the pit of fear and offer his surrender."
Among the ranks of queens, Ivyflower watched Dacewhisker nuzzle Plumberry's cheek, and her eyes instinctively searched for Bristlefur's again. This time, she held her stare, as if to freeze him in her memory. Just come home.
"Raggedweed, tell him if he will admit his defeat, order his warriors home, and peacefully turn himself over to our mercy, we may yet spare his life," Lilystar said, before his eyes flicked over to his kits, now grown warriors. "Thistleteeth, Rainripple, you shall remain with me in camp."
"No!" Thistleteeth hissed, tail whipping.
"Please! Let us fight!" Rainripple pleaded.
"Be patient! You will remain here!" Lilystar snapped, hackles rising now. "Now go, Raggedweed, Morningsky, and warriors all, and quickly bring us word of LeafClan's fall."