LEEKROOT
"It's told that way in HillClan, you know," Leekroot went on, although he was sure Mistpelt had long stopped listening. "Our elders say Leafstar and Meadowstar were best lovers who betrayed one another. When we're back in camp, I'll give you the whole telling."
Her eyes were glazed over, ears flicking in agitation. "Our elders say HillClan cats never stop making up stories."
"Yes, and it's very true," Leekroot said with a grin. Mistpelt's lip curled up in a brief smile, despite herself.
He found it helpful to chatter on regardless. She'd shed no tears over her brother's body, but that meant nothing. Leekroot had lost three littermates, and one in a particularly bad way—it took one good crunch from a badger to crush their skull like a rotten apple. But the tears didn't come until one night out hunting by himself, moons later, and they fell on and on for all the missed time.
Grief was a hidden sickness, or a lurking adder. It waited until the first quiet moment, the first unbidden memory, the first time you noticed their scent had faded from their old nest. Then, you felt its bite.
They found the apprentice that Sunstar had asked for, a black she-cat patched over with makeshift poultices, harvested from the horsetail growing on the island shore. From the story of blood scrawled out in the mud, Sedgepaw had killed the warrior Snowtuft in single combat.
Leekroot heard the low boom of the LeafClan deputy's voice as they approached. "Sedgepaw," Boulderstep called out. "You must come to Sunstar."
The apprentice stood on shaking legs, propped up by Elmpaw, weakly complying.
Sunstar stood with Swiftstorm, Honeypad, and Sorreltail at his side, other wounded and dead LeafClan warriors lying in a scattered ring around the heart of the island. The unbroken gray clouds continued to weep over them, washing the blood into the earth.
The leader looked coolly over the apprentice, eyes flicking to her mentor Honeypad, and then to Leekroot.
"What should the price of disloyalty be, Leekroot?" Sunstar asked.
He flicked his tail, blinking. "Exile or death, if there's any justice in the code."
Those golden eyes flicked down at the young apprentice, and he saw her hackles rise. "Then, Sedgepaw," Sunstar said darkly. "How do you plead?"
"I…" The apprentice's eyes darted around now. "All offenses come from the heart, Sunstar. Never came any from mine that might offend you, Sunstar…"
Leekroot cocked his head in confusion, as Sunstar glared on in cold silence.
Sedgepaw's tail was kinked up now, twitching in barely concealed panic. The lack of response from the older warriors only made her continue to babble on, dancing on pins and needles. "Did you… hear us talking? I never meant to doubt you, Sunstar, I swear. If I knew you were in hearing, I-I'd never have said it, I thought it was just us alone… So take it for your own fault, and not mine—"
"Sedgepaw," Sunstar said lowly, his scarred face expressionless as he approached and leaned close. "Calm down. I am only messing with you."
The black she-cat's shoulders sagged now with a light sigh, as Leekroot gave a bark of laughter, and even stone-faced Boulderstep's whiskers seemed to twitch. Sedgepaw only shot Leekroot a bitter glare.
The leader glanced over his shoulder, toward the apprentice's mentor. "Honeypad, has your apprentice, Sedgepaw, learned the skills of a warrior? Does she understand the importance of the warrior code?"
Honeypad gave a nod of her head, orange eyes glowing with pride. "She has," the dusky ginger she-cat answered.
"Then I, Sunstar, leader of LeafClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn.
"Sedgepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"
Sedgepaw had stilled her shakiness now, raising her head high. "I do."
"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Sedgepaw, from this moment on you will be known as Sedgetuft. StarClan honors your intelligence and valor, and we welcome you as a full warrior of LeafClan."
Sunstar rested his muzzle atop her head, and she licked his shoulder. The cry rose up, and Leekroot added his voice to the LeafClan cheers.
"Sedgetuft! Sedgetuft! Sedgetuft!"
The newly named warrior sank back on her haunches as the Clan swarmed in to offer their congratulations. "I think this squirrel-chaser is brave enough," Leekroot said with a playful prod of his paw, and Sedgetuft just answered him with a roll of her eyes.
The rain had receded to a light drizzle, dark mud-streaked shapes arranging bodies along the shore. MeadowClan and LeafClan cats alike wandered among them, shadows in the mist, like spirits of StarClan parting through the twilight.
Sunstar had his senior warriors gathered around him, and the MeadowClan medicine cat at his side as he took his perch on the roots of a hawthorn tree.
"Now, Raggedweed, are the dead numbered?" Sunstar asked.
The medicine cat lowered his eyes. "They are all counted."
"What are their names?" he pressed.
"Bristlefur, Snowtuft," Raggedweed listed, his eyes distant and detached. "Our deputy Morningsky, Applestem, brave Pikestripe, Snailmoon, Cinderfrost, Leechnose, Dappleleaf. As well as these, six daylight warriors: Sweetheart, Bellatail, Fuzzymuzzle, Dogstripe, Pennyfoot, and Hambone."
"Here was a noble fellowship of death," Sunstar murmured, eyes flicking over to his deputy now. "What's the number of our LeafClan dead?"
"Asterstripe, Kestrelstrike," Boulderstep started, as Leekroot felt his breath hitch in his throat. "And Acornpaw. None else."
Silence hung over the gathered cats as Sunstar lifted his face to the clouded sky. "Oh StarClan, your claws were here," he breathed.
"It's wonderful," Boulderstep said, his voice almost a whisper.
"Come, we go to MeadowClan camp," Sunstar said, standing to his paws. "And I forbid all warriors to boast of this or take that praise from our warrior ancestors, which is theirs only."
Leekroot lashed his tail. "Is it not right to speak of how many were killed?" he questioned.
"Yes, Leekroot, but with this acknowledgement," Sunstar said, now with the fatigue of battle clear in his voice. "That StarClan fought for us."
"Yes, Sunstar," he replied with a dip of his head, before sweeping his gaze over the rows of bodies along the creek bank. "They did us great good."
"Each of us do our part to bear the bodies back to their camp for their final vigil," Sunstar said, as LeafClan and MeadowClan gathered around. His whiskers drooped with rain and caked mud, his throat hoarse from battle cries, eyes tired and bitter. "And then to the river, and to LeafClan then, where never arrived happier cats."
It was a long trudge back toward the river. Limping and haggard with fresh wounds, no herbs besides what they could forage from the prairie, Leekroot wondered when MeadowClan would break the peace and attack again.
He could almost see them in his mind's eye, waves upon waves of cats gathering on a distant rise. But they never came.
By sundown, they saw the swollen river threading through the green fields, LeafClan's forest just beyond. Yet even with the promise of home beyond, no cat desired to try the crossing again, with the water roaring so ferociously with the day's torrents. So with the rain lifting, and utmost thanks to StarClan for that, they made camp along the riverbank beneath the open stars. Just as they once did on warm greenleaf nights back in the hills of his birth Clan.
While other cats rested or nursed their wounds, he stalked among the pebbly shore, nosing through the fragrant greenery that grew on the MeadowClan banks.
Mistpelt followed after him a few paces behind, sluggish with exhaustion.
"Why are you poking around in the grass? Are you a medicine cat now?" she sighed. "I don't think there's any rabbits swimming around over here, unfortunately for you."
He flicked his ears. "In LeafClan, they don't teach your warriors anything about herbs, do they?" he mewed. "That's a shame. It's useful knowledge for any cat, and Elmpaw is overworked as it is."
The sweet waft of fennel and marigold was unmistakable, and puffs of yarrow. But it was another shape moving along the riverbank that caught his eye, a skinny, swaggering gray she-cat padding along the edge of the river.
Leekroot felt his lips twist in a sharp frown. "The rogue," he growled. He reached down, plucking a slip of yarrow with a sharp pull.
"Swelling like a turkey," Mistpelt said, eyes flicking skeptical toward Leekroot. "But where are you going?"
She rushed to keep up with him as he made a straight line for the rogue by the water's edge, the yarrow stem clutched gingerly between his teeth to keep the bitter taste off his tongue.
"StarClan bless you, Old Scratch!" Leekroot said between the stem, as the rogue turned with a lashing tail. "You mangy, lousy rogue, StarClan light your path!"
"Ha, are you insane? Do you want to meet your StarClan already?" Scratch spat, narrowing her eyes at the yarrow in the warrior's teeth. "Get out of my face. I'm qualmish at the smell of your wildcat medicine."
"I told you the last time we were crossing this river, if you didn't help grab the herbs, I'd make you taste your own teeth," Leekroot said, as Old Scratch took a step back, hackles raised. "I'll make this easier on you and have you eat this instead."
"Not for Hillstar and all their rabbits," Scratch growled, arching her back, claws unsheathed.
"Here's one rabbit for you!" Leekroot snapped, slapping a paw across the rogue's muzzle faster than she could react. She rapidly blinked green eyes, but another caught her across the other side of the face. "Will you be so good, scabby rogue, as to eat it?"
"Hill-cat, you will die!" Scratch hissed with a wide, wild swipe.
Leekroot leaned back, dodging with ease, the yarrow still in his teeth. A loose circle of LeafClan cats had gathered around them, but no one moved to intervene. "You say very true, rogue, when StarClan wills it. I will desire you to live in the meantime and eat your medicine. Come, here's some honey to help it go down."
He boxed her again over the ears, making her stagger sideways.
"You called me a rabbit-cat once, do you remember?" Leekroot pressed, ducking another wild swipe and repaying her with a swipe across the face, this time drawing blood. "But I'll teach you how to hop like a rabbit too." He spat the yarrow out, letting it fall to his paws. "Please, fall to. If you can mock our herbs, you can eat our herbs."
"Enough, Leekroot!" Mistpelt said from behind him. "You have astonished her."
"I say I will make her eat some of this yarrow, or I will beat her across the head for four days." Leekroot lashed his tail, glaring at the breathless rogue across from him. "Bite! It's good for your fresh wound and your bloody face."
"Must I bite?" Old Scratch said at last, panting, looking down at the yarrow in dismay.
"Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question, too."
"By this stalk, I will have the most horrible revenge…" Old Scratch promised, but still, she bowed to eat. A tentative lick, and then a nibble at the outer fringe of the spiral leaves.
Impatient, Leekroot reached forward and planted his paw on her head, forcing it down into the grass and dirt over the yarrow.
"I eat and eat, I swear…!" Scratch yowled, gnawing at the stem and chewing off chunks of grass with it.
"Eat, please," Leekroot snarled. "Will you have some more honey for your medicine? There's not enough of a stalk left to swear by."
"Quiet your claws," Scratch groaned, coughing and hacking between bites, bits of leaves flecking her yellow teeth. "You see that I eat."
Leekroot lifted his paw, stepping back with a satisfied flick of his tail. Scratch kept on eating, until it was naught but roots. "May it do you much good. But no, please, don't waste any of it." He gestured to the scraps. "The roots are good for your broken head. When you smell these herbs afterward, please, go ahead and remember a Clan cat's skill with medicine, that's all. Is it good?"
She finished off the remains with a few snatching bites. "Good…"
"Yes, yarrow is good for you. And I can find you more if needed." He started to pad away as Scratch stood, shoulders shaking with rage.
"I will have my revenge, HillClan cat…!" she roared quakingly after him.
"If I owe you anything, I will pay you in scratches. May StarClan light your path and heal your face."
He was hardly a fox-length away when the retching began, as Scratch shouldered her way through jeering and laughing LeafClan cats to empty all that ill-gotten fresh-kill into the river.
"All the stars will shake for this!" Scratch shouted out behind him again.
"Enough!" Mistpelt snapped at the rogue. "You're a counterfeit, cowardly fox-heart. I've seen you nettle at Leekroot two or three times, but he's ten times the warrior a rogue like you could ever hope to be. Well, let a HillClan mentor teach you good LeafClan respect."
Then Mistpelt followed after him, trotting at his heels into the dusk.