Random Posts & Musings

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

Hello fellow SCRers! Below is a list of my creative posts, whether random musings or things I've uncovered in the Word document bowels of Shineh's flash drives.

Contents (click to link to post):

Stonestar the Battle Queen
Stonestar as a Kit
Stonewing's Kitting (first litter)
Stonewing Enters WindClan
Stonewing Returns Home
Stonestream's Final Hour
Cloud's Visits
Single Mom Who Works Too Hard
Breeze That Chills Hearts [part 1]
Breeze That Chills Hearts [part 2]
Breeze That Chills Hearts [part 3]

Shinestorm's Legacy

Stonestar's 4th life

I'll Be Seeing You | Rise & Fall

You're My Best Friend

Just A Dream

Amazing Grace

The Last Strike

Someone Should Know . . .

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

When the dark
Of the night comes around
That's the time

(ooc) This is just a random thought I had while rereading some old posts of Stonestar in battle. She's softened a teeny bit over the moons, but she still has a ferocity when it comes to the protection of SkyClan. Enjoy! No power-playing will be involved. It's not that good; just needed it off of my chest.



She prowled like a lion across the crags and cliffs, leading her warriors to meet the rouge battle patrol. Dark lips curled over her white fangs, glinting as the sun teased the horizon. Her belly was full, her claws sharp. Turning her head for a moment, Stonestar surveyed the patrol. Her daughter, Iceblink, newly minted in her warrior status, slinking across the cliffs, her yellow eyes hard. Crowheart, dark and determined, keeping watch at the rear of the patrol.
Stonestar felt confident today. She had the best warriors and three lives left at her disposal. These rouges would pay for their transgressions. Gone were the days of her divided loyalties, her desire to keep all of Clans and rouges at peace, to avoid hurting the friends she had made so many seasons ago. Now they were all enemies to her, all threats to the livelihood of her Clan that they, and she, had become accustomed to.

"Cats of SkyClan!"

Her voice rang out as she addressed them, poised at the edge of the territorial boundary.

"Enough is enough. These rouges, and their Clan sympathizers, will end their reign of terror today!"

She waited for the yowls to die down before she concluded:

"I rarely say this, as I believe a Clan warrior should always fight with honor. However, I am much more concerned with all of you returning to SkyClan with me. So, SkyClanners, if it comes to your life or the life of another . . . SHOW. NO. MERCY."

Throwing her head back, Stonestar yowled and led her warriors across the border, where battle, glory, and victory awaited them.

That the animal comes alive.
Looking for
Something wild

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

I Wanna Fly
I Wanna Drive
I Wanna Go

The pretty tabby romped from the nursery, beautiful eyes scanning everything, trying to take it all in at once. It was impossible. She wished she had about eight more eyes. She took a deep breath, and the crisp greenleaf air filled her tiny lungs. Her heart beat faster, and her blood stirred. This feeling . . . whatever it was . . . felt good. She felt like a warrior. She could run forever.

I Wanna Be
A Part Of Something
I Don’t Know

Tempestkit, she noticed with a smile, was pestering Featherwing about everything. Typical Tempestkit. Turning to her favorite brother Breezesoul, Stonekit replied to his admonishment about staying away from Treasurestar,

“I won’t bother him, Breezesoul.”

Her beautiful gray-blue eyes stared back, full of the innocence only a kit could possess. Only she knew the depths of her ambitions. Only she knew the dual way in which she saw every cat, especially her siblings. Tempestkit was her best friend and favorite sister, but at the same time, the rambunctious dark gray she-kit was merely a sidekick, a minion in Stonekit’s plans.

If You Try
To Hold Me Back
I Might Explode

Casually, Stonekit scanned the warriors milling about the camp. Which cat would make a suitable mentor for her? Not just any cat would do. She glanced at Breezesoul, but shook her head. Families were usually not allowed to mentor one another. Common sense, true, but Breezesoul would make an excellent mentor. Perhaps the deputy herself, Goldensight, would like to mentor her. No other kit in Stormbreeze and Ivystep’s litter had half the potential she did, after all.

Baby By Now
You Should Know . . .

“Breezesoul?”

Stonekit asked, turning her small body to face him.

“Who would be the best mentor for me? Who’s the best warrior?”

The tabby she-kit knew many names of SkyClan warriors with reputations to admire, like Darkwing, but she trusted her brother’s judgment. If she could get him on her side, he could be valuable in helping her become a leader.

But I will never kill to get what I want. I’m so good, I won’t have to.

I Can’t Be Tamed . . .

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

The Start Of
Every Sleepless Night . . .

Stonewing gasped for air, the ripping sensation in her midsection growing stronger with each passing heartbeat. Voices swirled in her fevered mind, each making less sense than the last. Her eyelids dropped as the pain lulled her into a numb existence. It would be so nice to go to sleep now . . .
Ravenghost’s voice brought her back. She blearily tried to focus on his face, his eyes, his voice, everything. He was her one thread of life now. She stared blindly up at him, biting her lips to keep from screaming as the agony ripped through her again.

“Help me! Please!”

she tried to scream, but all that came out was a hoarse, desperate croak. Fear welled up in her as she realized dimly that something was wrong. It had to be. Pain like this couldn’t possibly be normal for a kitting queen.
Then it hit her: Her kits weren’t supposed to be born for almost another moon! Would they be all right? Would Larksong be able to save them?
She tried to breathe through the terrible pain, but her whole body shook with the effort to keep from screeching. Dark clouds seemed to swirl in her brain, harsh voices whispering,

This is not yet your destiny . . . a life to live is a life to endure . . .

Over and over again the haunting words played in her head, driving her madder than she was already. Her gray and black paws scrabbled at the dirt in spasms, tearing at her claws, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain in her womb, and the pain in her heart. The black fog continued to cover her vision, but she kept struggling against it . . .



Struggling . . .




Struggling . . .




Struggling . . .




It was more painful than any battle wound, more frightening than the strongest terror. All she could do was keep breathing, keep fighting, keep hoping it would end.
Eventually, the pain started to ease off, and Stonewing lay trembling on the ground, too exhausted to open her eyes. She clung to the sounds around her, her only threads to life. She could scent agonizing grief, so strong it nearly crippled her. Did they think she was dead? She would gladly be dead if her kits were okay.
The only sound she did not hear, the only sound she listened for, was the cries of newborn kits.
Huffing out her breaths, Stonewing raised her head despite protests from some cat she didn’t care to look at. Unconsciously, her eyes went to the five tiny bundles at Larkpaw’s paws. Five bundles much too small to be kits. Five bundles that didn’t move.

“Wake them up . . . they have to wake up . . .”

Stonewing whispered, scrabbling at the dirt as she attempted to stand. Her heart refused to accept what her mind already knew: Her kits were dead.
She finally got to her paws, ignoring Ravenghost’s protests. She staggered over to the five little bundles, and the faintest stench of death reached her nostrils. She recoiled, her face contorted in grief that wiped all rational thought from her mind. She staggered backwards, plowing through the gathered cats. She had to get away, to be alone, to leave the scene.
Now.

“I-I-I need a minute,”

she stammered, catching sight of her precious kits as she whirled to leave. She wanted no one to follow her, no one to speak to her. She couldn’t even look at Ravenghost. She could not bear to see his grief.
Blindly, she staggered a few fox lengths, then her feet steadied and on winged paws she raced out of the camp, through the rolling hills and over cliffs, taking the most treacherous path. It was harder, more painful than any other path across the territory. She craved anything to take her away from her grief.
The setting sun glowed orange, turning the rocky slopes around her a dusky red. Patches of dried grasses slashed at her pads as she rushed across the drought-stricken territory. The river glowed like a silver claw slash ahead, and she skidded down the slope and launched herself in.
The icy water hit her like a thousand claws stabbing her, but she relished the clearing of her mind and the cleansing of her body it brought. Gasping and sputtering, she fought her way to the opposite bank and sat, dripping and panting, watching the water foam and rush past her.

“I can’t go back.”

She gazed back towards the SkyClan camp, and her grief settled down upon her again, not so agonizing as before, but even heavier and debilitating. She recoiled at the thought of returning to a place with such horrible memories.
So Stonewing got to her paws, and began padding across the territory aimlessly, her eyes on the ground. As the dirt gave way to tall grasses and flat, open spaces, she stopped. The scent marks confirmed what she already knew: She had left SkyClan territory. Down below her, the only hollow space for miles, crouched the WindClan camp.
WindClan had never seemed hostile; on the contrary, the swift cats had always been open and welcoming to her. Sootflame had been a friend to her; perhaps the rest of his Clan was as friendly.
She could not go home . . . but maybe she could find a new one, a new start, where her grief and troubles could not follow her. Tears leaked silently out of her gray-blue eyes, but she kept her back to SkyClan.
She pointed her paws at the WindClan camp.

The First Of Every Tear
I’m Gonna Cry . . .

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

I’m Moving On . . .

The tabby warrior staggered through the entrance on numb paws, each pawstep heavy with grief. The scent of WindClan filled her nose, offering her an escape for her grief. Stonewing raised her head and slowly gazed around the camp. She needed to find Ashstar and Darkmoon. She intended to ask for admission to the Clan.
She couldn’t go back to SkyClan. Because of her mistakes, she had lost her kits, and brought pain to the one cat that meant anything to her, the one tom who meant the world to her.
Thinking about Ravenghost made her breath catch in her throat, each breath excruciating. She firmly pushed him from her mind. If she thought about him, she wouldn’t have the strength to do what she had to do here.

“Hello?”

she meowed timidly, her voice croaking, raw from grief and lack of use. She had spent the night wandering through WindClan’s territory, unwilling to walk in as moonhigh was setting in. The rising sun shone golden over the territory now, turning her pelt yellow gold.
The WindClan camp seemed to shine with the promise of a new start. Her grief would probably never leave her, but here she could avoid it. She took another hesitant pawstep, taking in the spacious camp with the eyes of a grieving she-cat seeking a home, not as an enemy.

Letting Go . . .

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

I’m Coming Home . . .

The sun had just peeked over the horizon when the tabby she-cat appeared over the hill, the sun to her back illuminating her in a rosy light. Stonewing took a deep breath, inhaling the scent she had missed for so long. She sniffed her own pelt. No trace of ShadowClan scent remained. She was truly coming home.
She just wasn’t sure she wanted to see any of her Clanmates yet. So she wandered aimless all across the territory, alert for early morning patrols. The territory was running thick with prey, rabbits hopping all around her and quails calling to their chicks. Her first real smile in moons stretched across Stonewing’s face. She had missed this.
The camp loomed closer as she followed a deep path towards it. She could smell fresh scent of her Clanmates wafting up from the path, and she knew she could be scented or spotted at any moment. A hint of Ravenghost’s scent came to her and she closed her eyes in pain.
Would he ever forgive her for abandoning him?
Another, less worn path off to her left seemed like the perfect excuse to avoid the camp. Her paws carried her mindlessly towards the graveyard, though she knew what lay there. She collapsed by the second grave on her left, the bushes rustling mournfully in her ears.
Tempestpaw’s body had been almost unrecognizable and condemned to be tossed in a pit somewhere, but somehow Stonewing and her Clanmates had managed to sneak out with her body when they were supposed to be patrolling for StoneClan, and bury the brave apprentice.

“Oh Tempestpaw, thank you for not giving up on me. You knew what I had to do . . . and that I would go home.”

She nuzzled the flowers that had sprouted from the dirt mound, and as she did so, five graves caught her eye. Five tiny mounds on which the grasses had just begun to grow.
Staggering a few steps, Stonewing collapsed in front of them, and finally cried.
Her tears flowed freely, soaking the ground in front of her kits.

Tell The World . . .

At last, she managed to rasp through her tears,

“Mommy’s here . . . I love you so much . . . I’m sorry I left you.”

How long she lay there, Stonewing couldn’t tell. The sun had risen higher, but was still low in the sky when she got to her paws. She had cried all her tears. Her home lay just a few fox lengths away, so close she could hear the familiar noises of the Clan waking up.
Her Clan.
Taking another deep breath, Stonewing padded down the main path leading to the camp. She paused just before the entrance, then padded resolutely through. Everything was the same: The dens, the cats, the scents, the fresh-kill pile. She could see Larksong talking to Ashpool outside of the medicine den. Ravenflight, her mentor from her apprenticeship, was picking through the fresh-kill pile. She did not see Sagestar, but she knew she would have to face him eventually.
And then she saw him. Her reason for returning, her reason for life. Ravenghost. And in that moment, she knew she was home to stay. No matter what it took.

“Ravenghost . . .”

I’m Coming Home . . .

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

~* Stonestream/star *~
{{My Life Has Been So Hard}}
{{But I Wouldn’t Trade It For The World}}

It had been so many seasons. Longer than most cats even remembered. Too long. Too many seasons since a large dark silver tabby she-cat with navy blue eyes entered ShadowClan’s camp, seeking to join. Unassuming at first glance, she would eventually prove her worth many times over. But her past had never been uttered but to a few. But she remembered it like it was just yesterday . . . she was only two moons old . . .




Stonekit squealed in terror as a massive rouge crashed down onto her, crushing the air out of her lungs. She struggled as best she could, but her opponent outweighed her greatly and she was too exhausted. A dark shape loomed above her and her father, Star, ripped her attacker off.

“Stonekit! Grab your siblings and run away! GO!”

he roared, narrowly missing a heavy swipe.
Stonekit tore across the clearing in terror, frantically searching for her siblings.

“Riverkit! Nightkit! Crystalkit! Griffenkit! Risingkit! Where are you?”

she wailed, running blindly through the battlefield. She stumbled and fell headlong over something. Leaping to her paws, she screamed in horror. It was her mother, Poppy, throat ripped out and green eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.
Stonekit took off, running now as she had never run before. She grabbed one of her siblings in her flight, dragging them along with her as she went. She ran . . . and ran . . . and ran until she could move no more. Only then did she let go of her sibling’s scruff and take a good look.
Nightkit’s navy eyes were wide and staring straight ahead, his little black tail sticking straight out in terror. He swallowed, blinked and turned to Stonekit.

“Mama . . .”

he whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks. Stonekit desperately tried to comfort him, but their desperate situation loomed . . .




Then she had come here, and not-so-graciously welcomed by Bengalstar, just in time to witness the most topsy-turvy ShadowClan in history. Bengalstar turned rouge, taking with her the deputy and most of the Clan. Stonestream was a huge supporter of Flamefoot, the new leader, and the new deputy, Nightfire, soon earning herself a position as sub-deputy of her beloved Clan. She was only 14 moons old. But then, Nightkit, whom she had been separated from soon after their escape, joined ShadowClan as Nighttail. Griffenkit, now Griffenheart, followed soon after. But that fateful gesture of kindness changed everything . . .




The Twoleg loomed closer to the dark silver tabby, who crouched low in terror. Stonestream didn’t blame her. Raising her head slightly, she mewed like a kittypet, plaintive and whiny. The Twoleg turned towards the sound, and the RiverClan cat darted for the safety of the bushes. Stonestream backed away, into her own territory, but found her way blocked by a cluster of trees. Frantically she tried to run, bur the Twoleg picked her up! Screeching in fear and rage, she clawed at the Twoleg’s face, desperately praying to StarClan that he would release her. Suddenly, the Twoleg gave a yell and dropped Stonestream. Whipping around, Stonestream saw that the RiverClan she-cat, whom she recognized as RiverClan’s deputy, Crystalstream, had clawed the Twoleg’s legs to ribbons, her claws stained with blood. The Twoleg screeched in pain and ran.

“Thank you,”

Stonestream meowed gratefully, approaching Crystalstream, wrinkling up her nose at the fishy RiverClan scent.

“Twolegs are the enemy of all,”

she answered kindly, her glossy pelt glowing eerily.
Stonestream stopped short. She sniffed Crystalstream carefully, not daring to believe it.

“Crystalkit?”

she gasped.
Crystalstream’s face wrinkling in confusion, then her navy eyes widened in amazement.

“It can’t be!”

she gasped.

“But you . . . you’re alive!”

she screeched, embracing her sister. It turns out that Crystalkit had run from the battle with Risingkit and Riverkit, and the three of them now lived in RiverClan.

“Riverpaw’s attitude has cost him warriorship several times, but Risingheart is as sweet as ever,”

Crystalstream reported.

“Nighttail’s still a grouch, and Griffenheart still never speaks, but at least we’re all alive.”

Stonestream reported, glowing with her happiness.




The reunion of the siblings lead to more trouble than expected. The six warriors were so overjoyed at finally finding one another that they began sneaking out to meet one another, costing Stonestream her sub-deputyship, thus forcing her to watch as Nightfire named another cat as deputy following Flamestar’s death. Her eyes took on a new cast, darkening and filling with ambition. She lived like a shadow through the reigns of many leaders, going unnoticed through the Clan. Until Newstar’s deputy was exiled. Cats were asked to try out for the open position, and on a whim, Stonestream tried out. Wonder of wonders, she was chosen. That marked the high point of her life, but a higher one was soon to come . . .




Stonestream strode across the clearing with purpose, eyes fixed on the newcomers. A large, very handsome white tom crouched over a brown and white mottled she-kit who lay on the ground, shivering and whimpering.

“I am Icetalon and this is my niece Splashkit,”

the tom meowed as she approached.

“I have come here seeking shelter for her. She will die if she doesn’t get food and warmth.”

Stonestream spoke not a word, but approached Splashkit, nuzzling her cold pelt.

“Luckily, she has been weaned. I can take care of her. She should be able to manage solid foods if I chew them up first,”

Stonestream mused, speaking more to herself than to Icetalon. She carried Splashkit to a nest in the nursery and chewed up a mouse for the tiny bundle.

“She will be fine. But will you?”

she asked softly. Icetalon looked into her eyes and she blushed slightly.

“I trust you,”

he rumbled, swishing through the vine curtain on his way to the warrior’s den.




That was not the last time she and that tom would cross paths. Within a moon, they were madly in love. Soon, Stonestream discovered she was expecting kits, and passed on Splashpaw’s mentorship to her brother Griffenheart. Less than a quarter moon after Newstar’s death, Stonestar gave birth to the start of a legacy. Starkit, the firstborn tom, black and white with navy eyes, the fierce one. Larkkit, brown tabby with light blue eyes, the fighter. Poppykit, light brown with navy eyes, the gentle one. Thus began a legacy that would shape the Clan forever. But, seasons passed. Then, Prince, the fiercest rouge in the land, invaded one day, and headed for Icetalon’s throat . . .




Stonestar leaped forward, heedless of her own safety. She landed in front of Icetalon, knocking him out of the way. Prince’s claws swiped at her, and she felt warm blood spurt from her throat. She alone knew that this was her last life. Gathering up her strength she lunged at Prince, shredding his throat and sending him to the ground. She stumbled back towards her beloved mate. Her vision growing foggy, she meowed softly,

“I love you Icetalon. Take care of the kits. I will never leave you . . . I promise.”

Then her legs gave way and she flopped to the ground, breathing her last breath.




The moment she reached StarClan, she struck a deal. She could return, complete with the kits she had been carrying, but her memories would have to come back gradually. She would have no memory of her former self. Grudgingly she agreed, and stumbled into the ShadowClan camp during her own vigil. Firegaze, now leader, allowed her the name of Stonestream, grief blinding everyone to her true identity. Icetalon drew her in immediately, as did Starfox, Larksong, and Poppyfrost. She gave birth to four healthy kits shortly thereafter: Stormkit, Smokekit, Birchkit, and Mottledkit.
Eventually, her memories returned, just as Icetalon was made leader, having served as deputy under Firestar. Now, she could truly feel like she ruled ShadowClan again by her mate’s side. Her kits grew into strong warriors, carrying the names of Stormsurge, Smokefeather, Birchleaf, and Mottledsky. Icestar’s best friend, deputy, and Splashsky’s mate Echowing was always there and life was excellent for several moons.
But, all good things must end. The Clans were traveling to a new home, Stonestream heavy with kits, when it happened. ShadowClan was taking shelter within the Moonstone, when Stonestream went into labor. The wolf that had been outside all evening, drawn by the smell of blood, invaded, cornering the Clan with no way out. Stonestream was defenseless, and could only watch as Icestar struck . . .




Icestar lunged at the wolf, distracting it from Stonestream long enough to get between them. He lunged forward just as the wolf struck out. Two paws met two throats simultaneously. Just as the last kit was born, Icestar whispered,

“Larkkit, Sparrowkit, Tundrakit. I love you Stonestream. My love . . .”

He flopped onto his side, and died. But just before he drew his last breath, he laughed. Laughed in the face of death, the way he always said he would. Stonestream blacked out after that.




After that fateful day, Stonestream went through the motions, feeling the effects of her reincarnation. She had been restored younger than at her death, but now her age began to speed up faster, until she began to look like an elder before her kits were made warriors. Larkkit had died before apprenticeship, but Tundrachill and Sparrowflight added to the legacy that had grown to interlace the Clan. But she had grown weary after all this time. All she wanted was to walk beside her beloved Icestar once more. Nighttail, Crystalstar, Risingheart, Riversong, and Griffenheart were dead. Starfox, Poppyfrost, and Larksong were also dead, as were Birchleaf and Mottledsky. Her time was now up. She was finished with life, and for good this time. She would watch from the stars forever.

~

Stonestream drew her last breath, confident that her Clan would now be all right. Her body grew cold in the leafbare air, untouched as yet. The stars shone more brightly than ever before as they welcomed a new spirit to walk among them. The wind blew through the trees as her spirit raced through them on her way to the stars. At last, she was at peace. Her life was truly complete.
I’m ready Icestar . . .

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

Seasons had passed now since his massive paws had struck the earth. Many moons since his claws and teeth raked into the flesh of eagles or shredded rogue cats that threatened his Tribe. Yet it seemed not so long ago that he had pushed Ridge out of the way of the rockfall . . . and woken here.

Cloud snorted.

Not here, precisely, but among the skies, reset to his fittest, best physique. Stars glimmered between his claws and his amber eyes burned with starlight, not fire. He had watched, powerless, as StoneClan ravaged the Tribe barely mere moons after his death. He'd rushed the sides of each of the fallen, wishing he could save them the torture of watching their Tribemates die right behind them. Wishing he could give them a peaceful transition into the Tribe of Endless Hunting. At least he had died saving the life of his adopted son, who ruled as Stoneteller soon after his death. An honorable death, not slaughtered like defenseless prey.
He had watched over Tornado as she and Monsoon struggled through the snow, carrying three kits. He had nuzzled Monsoon's frozen body awake and brought the brave tom with him as the blinding snow drove the little family apart. He watched over Shine and Light now as they foraged in Twoleg dumpsters for food. He watched Tornado now as she, her age frozen and twisted in time since giving birth to a reincarnation, fought to keep her place in ShadowClan. He watched Star, too, as the young tom regained his memories and molded into a part-Tribe, part-Clan cat with two lifetimes of knowledge to serve him.

The massive white tom leaped through the air, passing through tree limbs and landing soundlessly on the ground. Not a pine needle rustled as he passed into the silent camp. Both warriors slept soundly as he stepped between sleeping cats. Tornado, Tornadoswirl now, dreamed peacefully, her massive body curled so she looked as small as an apprentice in the nearly-full moonlight.

"Oh, my dear Tornado. Your strength of body and mind will always be needed. You have purpose here too,"

he whispered, his words dancing into her ear. The dark she-cat shifted in her nest and Cloud knew his words had entered her dreams and would settle in her heart, deeper than any memory. Her parents, Fang and Falls, had meant so much to him. Falls, born of an odd union of cats, possessing the sweetest nature. And Fang, who could have been Cloud's twin.

*

The cliffs here reminded him achingly of the Tribe, where skirting the cliff faces came second nature to all born there. No wonder more Tribe-bloods had settled here after StoneClan than in any other Clan. His white paws landed soundless still, skirting the cliff faces to the camp, which lay sheltered against the sheer rock face. Cloud's path took him into the nursery first, where the newest Tribe-bloods lay. He lowered his massive head to nuzzle the tiny kits as they slept, making them shiver and squeak in their sleep. Hawk batted the air with one dark paw and Cloud chuckled sadly. He watched their fevered mother, Flowerdream, and her outline flickered in and out as she slept. She hung in limbo now. She would either fight and live or fight and die despite it. He could not help her.
Cloud's heart twisted. The gentle she-cat carried no Tribe blood, but she had supported and nurtured it in her many kits and stood beside Wing, helping to heal the dark tom after the death of Vision and so many more of his Tribemates.
Slipping into the warrior's den, Cloud paused for a moment, bittersweet. The Tribe bloodline had thrived, but the lessons, traditions, and even the trademark accent were slipping away as swiftly as fish from inexperienced paws. He stood by Echovalor sorrowfully. She had turned her back on her Tribe heritage, more or less. And she wasn't the only one. Someday, the Tribe might just become little more than a memory of strange cats who lived in rocks.
But then . . . the Tribe still too had a chance with fate. Nothing was as set in stone as the Clan cats would have liked to believe.
Pausing at Thunderecho, Lionessfang, and the other Clan-born Tribe-bloods, the white Stoneteller reached Pool and Raven, the two sisters curled together in overlapping nests. Their paws had guided their new home Clan in more ways than they could understand yet, from Raven's patient teaching of Stonestar, to Pool's kind helping paw when the Clan ran short on medicine cats.

"Oh Pool, perhaps you can still hear me. Our spirits still speak to you. Your identity will always be changeable, malleable, like clay that holds paw prints--"

he paused, choking on the unintended use of the name of Tornado's long-deceased littermate--

 "--like the river that bends with the banks. Use all parts of who you are to serve all cats, Clan, Tribe, rouge, loner, or kittypet. All life is valuable."

His amber gaze had already switched to one of the center-most nests. Wing. His To-Be, his confidant. Part of the legacy he had hoped to leave the Tribe. Through some version of his convoluted family tree, the dark Cave-Guard was not only a Tribemate; he was family. Blood of the deepest kind.

"Oh Wing . . . you did have a destiny in the Tribe. It would have thrived long and strong with you to help guide them. You have always made me proud. Destinies change, no matter how much even the dead fight it. Your destiny here has nearly been fulfilled. You deserve to rest, my old friend. I'll come for you one day, but not tonight."

With his words, Cloud cast another glance across the warrior's den and leaped straight into the sky.

*

The undergrowth would have made it difficult for any cat except a ThunderClanner to weave through. Cloud floated, silent, into the camp. Seasons ago, the Tribe had forged an alliance with ThunderClan, an alliance now void and forgotten. But some cats had not forgotten it. They had, in desperation, sought out the cats that had an obligation to assist them in time of trouble.
Love's creamy form lay sprawled across her mossy nest, her paws twitching in sleep. She dreamed herself back into the Tribe each night, every night a new story.
Cloud wept for her.
In many ways, she had faced the most challenges. Only days pregnant with Ridge's kits when StoneClan attacked, she'd fled, been captured by StoneClan, and given birth to Cloud's namesake, further burdening her fragile shoulders. She lived away from her siblings, with young Cloudshadow and the other, very special, kit that she had raised.
Cloudshadow took up nearly two nest-spaces with his bulk, mouth hanging open in snores. Cloud gazed down at the smaller, younger version of himself. Short, but as broad as a Twoleg monster. He could not have formed a better Cave-Guard if he'd molded the stars themselves. But Cloudshadow, unlike Star, did not carry his namesake's life and memories. Instead, he carried the best qualities unburdened.

"Find your brother. Your destiny is intertwined with his. Without him, you are less than half of a cat."

Cloud's rumbled words seemed to shake the walls of the den and Cloudshadow's eyelids fluttered momentarily. His large paws bunched under his chest and then stretched, as though leaping for an eagle.
Only a nest or two away lay Cloud's reason for roaming the Clan lands tonight: Breeze. The intelligent warrior had been nothing but a helpless kit, carried in the jaws of Love and Ridge, the only known survivor of Sun's litter. Cloud's son. The lithe gray tom looked very little like Cloud at first glance, but then the tom's eyes fluttered for a moment, lost in REM sleep, and a sliver of glowing amber lit the night. Unlike Love, who hunted better than any cat in ThunderClan, and Cloudshadow, who had taken to battle training with all of the ease of a seasoned warrior, Breeze had struggled to define himself by Tribe categories. He hunted and fought well.

Oh my wonderful son, you were never destined to be anything but what you are: a leader. A Stoneteller. Your leadership skills give you your singular category.

"I love you,"

the husky mew escaped and the very trees seemed to lean in, straining to catch any more.
Nothing more needed to be said. The Tribe was alive and safe. That was more than he had dared to hope for as StoneClan came hurtling through the throngs of destinies and rocking the Clan forests and the mountains to their very cores. The bloodlines, gifts, and lessons that the Tribe had brought to their respective Clans would grow and spread like ivy through the Clans' histories. And he, Cloud, would be watching all from the skies. In one giant leap, his snowy form melted into Silverpelt high above and some of the night chill lifted once more.
The Clans slept.

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

A single mom
Who works too hard
Who loves her kids
And never stops

The early dawn light had only just begun to find the smallest cracks and crevices in the nursery roof and walls. Hardly a noise could be heard in the dim camp, aside from the dawn patrol stumbling sleepily out of the tunnel. 

But within the dim nursery, the atmosphere hung tense and expectant. The bob-tailed medicine cat moved quietly, deliberately, her movements sure and steady. 

Sadly, the same could not be said for the painfully young queen stretched out in the moss. 

Moonshadow panted, clamping at the stick between her teeth. She was thirsty, she was scared, and she was exhausted. She glanced up at Tornrose every few moments, but said nothing. The medicine cat continued the silence, and Moonshadow silently thanked her. No words could change the inevitable. 

A rustling came at the nursery entrance and Moonshadow weakly lifted her head to see Owlflight, Tornrose’s mentor and the former medicine cat, pushing his way into the den, a wad of wet moss dripping from his maw. He said nothing, continuing the silence. He dropped the moss in front of her face, and Moonshadow lapped gratefully. 

“Owlflight . . . why are you-” 

she began, but the mottled tom cut her off gruffly, 

“If a mouse sees a seed, he doesn’t wait for another mouse to eat it.

A kitting can never have too many paws, and nothing would give me greater pleasure, little cousin, than to help you bring your kits into the world.” 

Her heart swelled with gratitude for the big tom. Owlflight had been the one to bring her and her littermates into the world a mere few seasons ago - now he would be here to help her welcome her own kits into ThunderClan. 

She realized now that Owlflight must have delivered his own kits by himself, just he and Hinafeather alone in the world. In his service now, he ensured her kits a beginning to life that his children had never had the opportunity to benefit from. 

And it did her a small bit of good to have one healer that didn’t know her secret. Tornrose’s set jaw said it all: the kits would be a blessing, but the difficult birth was Moonshadow’s to bear alone. All alone. 

Oh Aru . . . 

Her amber-blue eyes closed briefly as another contraction came over her. 

I wish you could be here. If only I had done something, even one thing, differently, you might be with me now. 

Another rustling came at the entrance the same moment another contraction, harsher than any before it, ripped down her spine. Grunting, Moonshadow clamped down on the stick until she heard it crack. 

Then she smelled the most comforting scent in the world. The scent of the only cat that had never let her down. Not once.

“Hello, Moonshadow,” 

Flamestone rumbled, stepping carefully around Owlflight and Tornrose to reach her head. 

“Daddy . . .” 

she breathed, hardly able to speak above a whisper. 

“Every kitting needs three or four cats: 

the mother, a medicine cat or two, and a tomcat to be the queen’s auxiliary energy source. 

I will be here, my daughter, every pawstep of the way.” 

Tears filled her eyes. Flamestone had never asked questions, not even when rumors started flying about her choice of a mate. He had been the perfect father and the perfect grandfather all along. He’d never questioned her choice to keep Aru a secret and never pressed her for details. 

She didn’t need Aru. She had everything right here that she could ever need. 

Silence fell again. A few minutes later the first kit greeted the world. Moonshadow heard its tiny squeaking and lifted her head to see. She gasped before she could stop herself. The kit was so small, so tiny, so . . . perfect. 

“Bring her to me,” 

she begged, and Flamestone gently picked up the little wet newborn and brought her beneath Moonshadow’s nose. She breathed in the scent deeply, drinking in her tiny daughter’s smell. She smelled like love. 

Gently, Moonshadow began to lick her tiny kit dry, purring as the little one squeaked in protest. 

Her head flopped to the moss again as the contractions restarted, and Flamestone took over licking, keeping the she-kit near Moonshadow. 

Something about the tiny molly's delicate features, and how her white pelt glowed a soft green tint from the early sunlight streaming through the leaves above, reminded Moonshadow of the large green Luna moths that had fluttered around through the glittering mine caves, past her vision and into her dreams that night. 

“Luna . . . Lunakit,” 

she breathed faintly, her legs quivering in exhaustion as another contraction rolled through her. 

She felt the second kit slide from her and knew in her heart that was the last. Huffing with the effort, she tried to raise her head to see, but Owlflight brought the tiny bundle over to her. She sucked in her breath. She'd expected one kit to look like Aru . . . but this little one, a tom, was the exact shade of slate gray as the walls of the mine caves. She could see the tiniest blue eyes cracking out from under his lids. They looked for all the world like jewels in the stone. 

“Graykit,” 

she mewed with finality. 

She would name both of her kits names that would ensure she never forgot how they came to be part of her world. And as a reminder that she could never go back. 

Swallowing the surge of loneliness that welled up in her like bile, she let Aru cross her mind one final time, drank in the memory of his scent, let his voice whisper through her ears . . . and locked him away. 

I promise you, my precious kits . . . you will never pay any price for my bout of disloyalty. You will be ThunderClan’s most loyal and precious members. I swear it on StarClan. I will prepare you for anything I cannot protect you from. I will shield you. 

I will give everything I am to keep you loyal to ThunderClan . . . no matter the cost.

With gentle [paws] 

And the heart of a fighter 

I'm a survivor 

I’m a survivor 

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

Another day in this carnival of souls
Another night settles in as quickly as it goes
The memories of shadows, ink on the page
And I can't seem to find my way home

As quick as a fox. As swift as an adder. As fleeting as the night.
The young gray warrior was but a blur of motion as he slunk through the undergrowth to the creek. His paws made no sound as he skirted bushes, trees, and brambles. Breezeheart had to get away. from ThunderClan, from his family, from everything and everyone.
just for a minute.
Out here, alone, he could be Breeze. Breeze That Chills Hearts. Stoneteller of the Tribe of Rushing Water. Son of Cloud That Blocks Sun, the great Stoneteller. Adopted son of Ridge, the Stoneteller as the Tribe was attacked  by StoneClan.
He'd never known his father. He remembered only the barest sliver of his mother's scent - Love, in the truest form of her name, had been a good and caring foster mother to him. He suspected that Ridge might have been such a good father to him partly out of grief - Cloud had died protecting Ridge from a rockfall in a pristine example of the undying love and loyalty Cloud had always had for those under his care.

Love and loyalty . . . and I never got to meet him.

Breeze dug his claws into the earth and scaled one of the large rocks next to the creek. Here, next to the cold flow of water that flowed from his beloved mountain origins, atop the sheer face of a small cliff . . . here he was home. Here, life made sense.
Nothing else did.
He scuffed his paws against the stone, his amber eyes glowing. The news of Wing and Pool retiring to the SkyClan elder's den had hit him much harder than he cared to admit. Love was their littermate, and the idea of her growing old and retired petrified the young tom. Not just because he couldn't imagine life without her, but because retirement meant that the few Tribe cats that remembered the mountains were even less likely to return to their rightful home. Within a few generations, the Tribe could be completely lost.

I never got to know any of it. Would I have been a prey-hunter or a cave-guard?

he mused. He lasted only moments before hissing in frustration. He'd never know, now. He'd been trained as a warrior in ThunderClan and lived there his entire life. As Stoneteller, his entire would would be the cats in his care, as his father before him.

I should take a mate,

he realized.

Not out of love, but out of realization that I am Cloud's only living offspring. It's my duty to my Tribe. His line should continue on.

His heart constricted. His Tribe, scattered. His leadership role, complicated. His family, strained.

All the places I've been and things I've seen

A million stories that made up a million shattered dreams

The faces of people I'll never see again

And I can't seem to find my way home

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

They said, hey kid
You got that something special
(It's now or never)

You wanna live forever

The teal eyes crashed through his memories before he could stuff them away. Shadowfire. ShadowClan beauty. His first Tribe naming ceremony . . . and his last, so far. 'Shadow' Cast By Moonlight. There they had stood in StoneClan's chilling prison, but he'd never felt warmer. He'd fallen for her in that instant.

But in that fleeting ceremony, he'd also let go of Ridge. Sure, Ridge had reappeared, miraculously, only to disappear again not long after Cloud and Leveret were made warriors. And then return again.  And even still, in that one ceremony, The Tribe of Endless Hunting had declared him Stoneteller. Him. He'd been born in the mountains but he remembered only small snatches, and only the barest whisper of his mother's scent. And yet, he led the Tribe.

Now Shadow's scent had started to grow faint in his memories too. She'd been sacrificed, cruelly, by Sablestar herself on that wretched alter. All because of a simple lame paw. He hadn't gotten to say goodbye, not even able to be there for her in her final moments.

He'd said a quick, quiet prayer to send her spirit to the Tribe of Endless Hunting. That had been the extent of his abilities, as trapped as he'd been. Oh, they'd gotten out, all right, eventually. He'd fought twice - once to escape, and a second time to rescue Love, Cloud, and Leveret.

Fighting.

He'd been pretty decent at both hunting and fighting through most of his time as a warrior, but as an apprentice, he'd been decidedly prey-hunter material. Poor Dewstone had worked with him tirelessly, sunrise until dusk, until he could defeat any ThunderClan warrior in battle.

Dewstone. Another she-cat that had stolen his heart. She'd never known, having passed before StoneClan's invasion. He would have followed Dewstone anywhere, done anything for her. But in the end, he could not save her.

That made 2 she-cats he had loved and lost. Just like Cloud.

His father's third mate had been the only one to bear his kits, and now Breeze was the only survivor of that litter (that he knows of, mwahaha). True, Dewstone hadn't technically been Breeze's mate, but the comparisons between him and Cloud were constant and getting uncannily accurate.

So, I'll find a third she-cat, knock her up, then die saving a Tribemate in a rockfall. There's the plan through next flowing-water,

he grumbled inwardly.

Unlike Wing, Breeze had never blamed Ridge for Cloud's death. No, he blamed Cloud. Every story he'd ever been told about his father held him to this great standard, this unachievable excellence. And he'd been beaten by a rock. A rock. A solid chunk of gray mediocrity like the one Breeze sat upon now.

If Cloud hadn't died, he'd probably still be Stoneteller now. He wouldn't have let StoneClan win. The Tribe would still be in the mountains. The Clans would never have been captured. I would not have to grieve for Shadowfire and Dewstone, because I would never have known them. I would not have spent moon after moon learning to fight.

He clawed at the stone, paying no attention to the pain in his talons.

I could have served as a Prey-Hunter for a long time. Cloud could have died regally, gotten to see me grow up, died an old cat. I could have been Ridge's Second. Or Wing's. But no. I am stuck here, watching my adoptive mother age, watching my adopted brothers be torn in more ways than prey in frozen-water. Oh Cloud, why did you have to leave us?!

He wanted to wail to the sky. His father had appeared to him, once. But never again since then. He knew he was being foolish. Cloud had been on his last life at the rockfall - that had been seasons ago. Surely something else would have come up. Life in the mountains was punishing, even for the strongest of Cave-Guards like Cloud. Cloud had been but mortal.

But he was my father. Every Tribe cat left compares me to him. And I don't have the slightest memory of him except one small moment - and that was just his ghost. His spirit. Cloudshadow is the closest I'll ever know to what it must have been like to be in his presence.

His paws itched to run. Run for the border, cross into the loner lands . . . and make his way as a rouge until he could reach the mountains. He felt sure that Love and Cloudshadow would accompany him, and Leveret too if they could find him (and Cloud was the one to tell him they were going). Tornado would too - Breeze knew she was desperately unhappy in ShadowClan.

He worried about the SkyClan constituents though. Some would come, he knew that . . . but others would not. Like it or not, the Tribe would remain forever shattered.

Oh Father, Cloud . . . what am I to do?

His hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him. He sank to his knees, blending into the rock below him. Breeze slumped onto his side, closing his amber eyes as the sun started to set. He would not spend tonight in the Warrior's Den surrounded by cats he did not belong to. Tonight he would let his heart and dreams wander freely through the skies.

They said, hey man
You had that something special
(It's now or never)
Let's keep it quintessential

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

When it rains, it pours
There will be blood in the water
Cold to the core

Faith falls hard on our shoulders

A thunderous roar woke him. He cracked open his eyes, then the amber orbs flew open wide. Breeze vaulted to his paws. He stood inside a glittering cave. Stalagmites and stalactites littered the floor and hung from the ceilings. Pools of water lay eerily still between the pointed stones.

A light breeze swept through the cave, the walls of the cave seemed to lean in to the wind, and Breeze could have sworn that voices issues from the wisps of mist, from the pools themselves . . .

"Hello?"

he whispered. He felt fairly certain that this was some sort of vivid dream.

"Hello, Breeze That Chills Hearts."

Breeze froze. He'd only heard that voice once, for a few fleeting minutes. Sometimes, Cloudshadow's voice almost sounded like this. But only one cat spoke with such authority that the rocks stood at attention. He swallowed and dared to turn around. And there he was.

Cloud That Blocks Sun prowled through the peaks like a lion, his white pelt dazzling even in the dim light. Amber eyes glowed out of his face, strong and steady. Breeze tried to sit up taller as his father approached. Now he knew his wandering mind had found the Tribe of Endless Hunting.

"Cloud . . . father."

"Never got around to very many paternal activities, did I?'

The pale tom's voice was wry, as if he'd resigned himself to an unpleasant mouse. He stepped to Breeze's side but did not say anything more.

Sensing that he should speak, and wanting to, Breeze whispered,

"Where are we?"

Cloud lifted his regal head.

"This is the Cave of the Pointed Stones.

As sacred to the Clans as their Moonpool, this is where the spirits of the Tribe of Endless Hunting speak to Stoneteller and Water Healer.

There is no need to whisper here - the spirits know you and they welcome you."

His throat as dry as squirrel tail, Breeze gazed open-mawed around him. He'd heard stories about this cave from Love and some rather deep detail from Pool, but nothing they'd said had prepared him for this. He swallowed. He stood in a lost place, a place of the utmost importance to the Tribe.

"Is this . . . does it still look like this?"

For surely the site had suffered changes, damages, or disrepair after StoneClan's invasion.

The white Stoneteller waved his plumed tail and took a few steps towards an exit Breeze had not noticed at first.

"Come."

Breeze obeyed without thinking, his question dying away. He followed Cloud's glowing pelt through the stone opening, relishing the cool wind on his fur. They emerged into a large stone cave. Breeze could see many small alcoves leading off of it. He thought he could hear kits squeaking and craned his neck to see.

His chest bumped into Cloud's rear and he whipped his head back around. The cave was full of cats! Some were slight and small, their jaws full of caught-prey. Others were broad and brawny. Smaller cats of both physiques gamboled after the older cats.

"Is that - that's Pool!"

he exclaimed, his voice still soft in disbelief. Indeed, the sturdy she-cat lay in the cave, three tiny kits batting at her tail. From here he could see that the gray hairs in her muzzle were more numerous than they had been at their last meeting - but then again, he hadn't seen her recently.

Cloud dipped his head and gestured with his paw around at the gathered cats.

"Anyone else you know?"

Breeze scanned the gathered cats, his heart leaping each time he saw a familiar pelt.

"I think that's Hawk . . . but he's so big! Is that Starfox from ShadowClan? And - oh, it's Cloud! T-t-the other Cloud,"

he stammered, but his father merely chuckled. He wished he had about six more eyes. So many cats! They were small and skinny, but they were healthy, and from the sound of their purrs, they were happy.

A cat wove in and out of the others, stopping to speak to Pool a moment, then conversing with a Prey-Hunter that looked a lot like Leveret. As the cat passed by near where Breeze and Cloud stood, Breeze caught a whiff of herbs. The stranger smelled a lot like Owlflight.

Breeze narrowed his eyes. Pool was the Water Healer of the Tribe . . . was this cat her To-Be? But . . . no. He took another look at Pool. Her graying muzzle, the kits playing around her and listening raptly to her . . . had Pool . . . retired?

"Cloud . . . what is this? When is this?"

Cloud sat down and curled his tail around his paws.

"My son . . . time is a very odd thing. So are events."

Breeze's claws gripped the stone under his paws. He should have know that the Tribe of Endless Hunting would be cryptic with him. They'd certainly made everything difficult so far. He kept scanning the crowd, mentally checking off names. Two faces did not appear.

"Where is Tornado? Cloud . . . where is Love?"

Cloud beckoned again and Breeze followed, flowing through the cats like a snake in the grass. Then again, perhaps they could not see him at all. The roaring sound now had a visual: the waterfall. Of course. He followed Cloud over the winding path that hugged the cave's edge, carrying them safely past the thundering deluge. He followed the snowy tom down the slope, across the stream, and over to an area scattered with small chunks of rock.

Small mounds of earth drew his vision in.

"They're . . . dead?"

"Love That Wins All Battles is a terrifically strong, gentle, and wonderful cat.

She mothered you as her own and gave you the best life I could have asked for . . . under the circumstances.

But she is but mortal. As was I. Breeze,"

Cloud fixed him with an amber stare Breeze was sure his own gaze never achieved,

"The future is not set in stone like these caves.

Every moment, every beat of a butterfly's wing, influences the next.

The nine lives of a Stoneteller are long.

They are lonely.

They are endless . . . until they end.

A Stoneteller witnesses uncountable births, To-Bes, Cave-Guards, and Prey-Hunters come and go.

That is the reward. And that is the price."

Breeze took a deep breath and tried to look away from the mounds.

"So . . . is this the future?"

"It is hope. Hope is what has kept the Tribe of Rushing Water alive.

It is what gives its members courage to live lives like no other cats before them."

Cloud led Breeze back across the stream, back up the slope, past the waterfall again, back through the cats, and back into the Cave of the Pointed Stones. Picking up a pebble, Cloud tossed it into one of the pools. It landed with a splash that echoed off of the cave walls.

"What do you see on the water?"

Breeze peered into the shadowed depths excitedly, but sat back on his haunches in disappointment.

"I see nothing but the bottom of the pool."

"Not in the water - on it!"

Cloud snapped, and Breeze was reminded of his own impatient bursts. Particularly on the day they'd first met. He obediently lowered his head to the water again and watched his reflection waver as the ripples spread out from the pebble's entry point. Then he understood.

"The ripples? They keep going . . . they feed off of each other . . ."

"Just as actions and consequences do, and just as the members of the Tribe of Rushing Water do.

My son, you will walk a hard path. It might lead to that -"

Cloud jabbed his tail at the entrance to the main cave.

"- or it might lead to some other future. But know this: you are never alone.

Even we dead cats cannot see everything.

But we have hope for the Tribe's return to these sacred mountains, and with cats keeping the memory of it alive, these caves will never lose their legacy.

And this place will never lose its power."

Breeze gazed around. He'd never felt such joy before, or such homesickness. He belonged here. All of them did. But still they had no way out, no way to reform. Still he led a Tribe without a home. Still he would have to live with the fear of having to meet one of his Tribemates in battle.

"What do I do?"

Cloud turned to stand in front of him, and it was all Breeze could do not to drop to his stomach in awe of the great tom's power.

"Breeze That Chills Hearts, you hope. As long as hope is alive, then so are possibilities."

Cloud waved his tail over the pool and a vision appeared. A queen, kits gamboling around her paws in a sheltered cave. Breeze could not quite make out her face or her pelt, but he knew that he would die for this queen, these kits, in a heartbeat. More than that - he loved them.

"Who is she? Cloud?"

He whirled, but the white tom had vanished. Breeze crouched by the pool again, but it had gone deathly still and blank again. Claws tearing at the stone, Breeze whirled and darted out of the exit - and stopped cold. The cave was empty, the wind whistling forlornly.

A black shadow appeared at the edge of the waterfall and Breeze sprang forwards . . .

.

.

.

. . . and gripped the side of the limestone as he jerked awake. He'd nearly convulsed himself off the side of the large boulder. Breezeheart lifted his head and looked around wildly, taking in the sudden green assault on his eyes. Trees. Bushes. Warm air.

What had that shadow been? A cat? A predator? StoneClan?

The vision of the blurry queen and kits slammed into his mind and Breezeheart hopped to his paws. As the sun peeked around the mountains, a gray blur rushed through the forest. Back to the camp.

But not back home.

That would come.

With time. And with hope.

This is our time
No turning back
We could live, we could live like legends

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

~*Shinestorm*~
{{My Life Has Been So Long}}
{{But I Wouldn’t Trade It For Anything}}

The glowing moon shone down on the sleeping ThunderClan camp, sending sparks of silver dancing across the snow. A lone she-cat stole quietly from the Warrior’s Den, her white pelt blending in with the snow. Small silver paws stepped carefully through the drifts; icy blue eyes searched the semi-darkness.

Shinestorm reveled in the cool air. It was far too crowded and stuffy in the den these days. Pelt fluffed out against the chill, she cleared away a patch of ground just big enough for her slender frame, and lay down, staring up at the stars.

She frowned. The stars seemed so close tonight, barely over the treetops. As her eyes unfocused from staring so hard, they seemed to take the shape of a cat, racing joyously across the skies.

She blinked and the illusion disappeared. But the stars shone as brightly as ever. Sighing, her thoughts turned to her age. She was in perfect fitness, still able to mentor well, and her battle skills were as strong as they had ever been. Why then, did the past concern her more than the present?

She knew her Clanmates had long considered her a freak because of her advanced age and refusal to retire.

What would they say,

she mused,

if they knew why I have lived so long . . .

.

.

.

Massive, rough paws suddenly clutched her middle, and Shine squealed in fear, twisting and struggling to get free. She caught glimpses of her mother, Dusty, struggling as the Twoleg forced her into a cage, and her father Flame sinking his teeth into the paw of the Twoleg holding him. But it was Tumble that made Shine fight harder. He sat still and quiet in his cage, green eyes staring straight ahead in shock, his thick pelt fluffed out with fear.

As Shine was at last forced into her cage and tossed into the back of a Twoleg monster with her family, she vowed,

I’ll get you out brother . . . I’ll always keep you safe . . .

After what seemed like moons, the Twolegs picked up their cages again and carried them inside a Twoleg nest. The whole place stank with a smell that seared Shine’s nostrils.

I know this smell!

she realized with horror.

“Mom! Dad! It’s the Cutter!”

she squealed desperately as the Cutter hauled her from her cage. He and another Twoleg held Shine down, and something pricked her leg. A thorn? She twisted and saw the Cutter sticking another needle into her.
Suddenly, Dusty and Flame’s cages fell off of the counter and burst open. Flame ripped open Tumble’s cage while Dusty flew at the Twolegs. Blood roaring in her ears, Shine leapt off the table and out the door, not stopping until she and her family were outside, huddled under a monster.

.

.

.

She had been two moons old then. It hadn’t taken long though, for Shinestorm to figure out what the Cutter had done to her. When Dusty, Flame, and Tumble became ill with greencough, Shinestorm never even got the sniffles. Somehow, the Cutter had kept her from getting sick.

Then Flame and Dusty died, and Tumble was so weak she had no idea how he was going to live.

Then came the snowstorm.

Tears rolled down Shinestorm’s cheeks as she remembered. As hard as she had tried to stay with Tumble, the snow was too thick, and her pelt blended. When the snow finally stopped, she was hungry, all alone . . . and right beside ThunderClan territory.

Shadowstar took her in, and Sandpelt and Firestorm became her surrogate parents. Within a moon, she was apprenticed, and falling into the rhythm of Clan life. Firestorm’s careful, patient training brought her steadily along, until the badger attack . . .

.

.

.

Shinepaw bolted from her nest at the call, her blood pumping hot and thick through her veins. She bit and scratched her way through her enemies, but she just didn’t know enough.

“Help me!”

she squealed as a massive badger bore down on her. Long claws slashed out, and a burning agony tore open her left shoulder. Her mouth opened in a soundless screech of pain. Through hazy eyes, she saw the badger bearing down again.

Suddenly, the young warrior Liontracks sprang up out of nowhere, and sent the badger out of the camp. He turned to her, blood dripping from his nose, and asked,

“Shinepaw? Can you hear me?”

She tried to answer, but the pain in her shoulder rendered her helpless. Liontracks seemed to understand though. Gently, he carried her to the Medicine Cat’s Den, even though she had to be heavy.

.

.

.

For a moon she lay in the den, too bound up with cobwebs to move, much less train. She could hear Firestorm discussing her future. He seemed to be attempting to stay optimistic, but the Medicine Cat reminded him that Shinestorm might never recover from such a wound.

Well, I sort of did,

Shinestorm reminded herself, glancing at her shoulder. The scar had always been there, long, gray, and hairless, disfiguring what otherwise could have been a striking pelt. But all anyone saw was the scar. It ran from the base of her neck to her shoulder joint, and as wide as half of her paw.

She shuddered, remembering that terrible moon, and the seemingly endless seasons of treatment before it fully healed. But her injury hadn’t stopped her. She was made a warrior with her friends, and given her first apprentice, Cinderpaw, soon after.

“Oh Cinder . . .”

she whispered as more memories crashed over her . . .

.

.

.

The new Medicine Cat, Cinderheart, called Shinestorm to her one day.

“I need to see Cinderpaw. It’s important. And I want you here too.”

Shinestorm obeyed, her curiosity overwhelming.

Cinderheart’s news was staggering. A prophecy had been made concerning Cinderpaw.

Cinder will defeat the Death.

Almost immediately Cinderpaw was made a warrior, Cinderfeather, and her next training began, this time preparing her to someday lead ThunderClan.
Shinestorm had never been so proud. She helped Cinderfeather all she could, watching with pride as her own mentor, Firestorm, now Firestar, named her beloved first apprentice his deputy.

.

.

.

Shinestorm smiled as she remembered what had happened around that same time.

.

.

.

A familiar scent reached Shinestorm’s nostrils, and she turned curiously to see a young tom with green eyes sitting just behind her. His thick, slightly unruly tan-brown pelt was familiar too . . .

“TUMBLE!”

she shrieked, pouncing on her brother.

“It’s Tumbleweed now, sister,”

Tumbleweed meowed, as quiet and steady as ever. Soon, he had a mate, Sunsetdream, and two kits, Lightkit, and Flamekit. Then they were apprenticed, and though Flamepaw and Sunsetdream passed away from greencough, Tumbleweed seemed happy even though he grieved for his family. Young Lightmoon never strayed from her father’s side. And Shinestorm’s world kept getting rosier.

.

.

.

The young, handsome tom Bengalwind then became Shinestorm’s mate, and their kits were born soon after: Wormkit, Eaglekit, Hailkit, and Featherkit, more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. Then Featherkit and Wormkit were killed in a badger raid. Grieving, Shinestorm never thought she’d find a reason to be happy again.

Then along came Mossstorm. Mossstorm had joined ThunderClan not long after Shinestorm was made a warrior, but the bothersome tortoiseshell had never endeared herself to Shinestorm.

But then, Cinderstar fulfilled the prophecy, losing her last life in the process. Eaglekit, now Eaglepaw, was left without a mentor, and Mossstorm stepped up to mentor her mentor’s apprentice, thus bringing Shinestorm and Mossstorm together.

.

.

.

Shinestorm laughed as she remembered the strength of their friendship. Their connection had been nearly instantaneous, and Shinestorm had soon found herself, along with Mossstorm, part of an elite group of rising young star warriors, including Roseleaf, Liontracks, and Timberheart. With another member of their group, Flashspirit, taking Cinderstar’s place as leader, it suddenly became real to all of them that they might actually have a shot at leading their beloved Clan.

Then, Shinestorm’s world imploded . . .

.

.

.

Bengalwind’s body lay in the clearing, wounds covering his glorious Bengal pelt, eyelids permanently closed over beautiful blue eyes that would never again fill with love when he looked at her, or narrow in battle lust when the enemy approached.
Shinestorm lay down beside her mate’s still form and pressed her nose to his pelt, her heart as heavy as stone.
Mossstorm touched Shinestorm’s shoulder comfortingly, but Shinestorm was numb. How could StarClan take her mate from her? How could they be so cruel?!

.

.

.

Moons passed, and Eaglepaw, now Eaglefeather, and Shinestorm still were barely speaking, too engulfed in grief. Then, Nettleclaw had come into her life, and opened her eyes to a new dawn. Their first litter was soon born: Swallowkit, Dingokit, and Coyotekit. Then, another litter was born: Dancekit, Noblekit, and Hysteriakit.

Shinestorm giggled as she remembered family hunting trips where she and Nettleclaw would sneak off into the woods the first chance they got, or when Eaglefeather complained about Noblepaw pouncing on his tail, whichever came first. It was a much deeper love than anything she had felt before, even with Bengalwind. She had been so young when she met Bengalwind that she hadn’t appreciated him enough. Now, older and wiser, she could see exactly how much Nettleclaw loved her.

Shinestorm swallowed hard as she remembered . . .

.

.

.

Nettleclaw’s body lay in the clearing, filling her with grief and de ja vu. Now she had lost two mates, and she wasn’t getting younger. Not that she wanted another mate. She never wanted a mate again. Not if losing them caused this much pain. She nuzzled Nettleclaw’s shoulder tenderly, feeling the bones that were barely covered with skin, her ears filled with the sound of Twoleg monsters. The Clan was slowly starving. Through her veil of grief, she realized,

The Clan must be fed.

.

.

.

“I will die soon,”

Mossstorm told Shinestorm one day as they hunted alone.

“NO!”

Shinestorm screeched, using her body to block her friend from going any further.

“I know you miss Hurricaneflood, but---”

Mossstorm cut her off and Shinestorm fell silent at the look on her friend’s face.

“No, Shinestorm. StarClan has told me that I will die.

I do not know why, but StarClan must need me.

They would never speak to me, a simple warrior, otherwise.”

Shinestorm said nothing, but did her best to stand strong for her friend as they cried together. Exactly as she had said, Mossstorm died, not long after their conversation.

.

.

.

Shinestorm was crying hard now, her sobs silent. Her life had been so hard. There had always been many reasons why she had always chosen never to dwell on it. So why the flood of memories? One silvery paw moved through the snow to wipe her cheeks dry as the memories continued . . .

.

.

.

Autumnstar gathered the Clan together, counting each cat and finding someone to carry each kit. The noise of the Twoleg machines was deafening. Shinestorm noticed Tumbleweed standing back and she trotted over to him.

“Tumbleweed, what’s wrong? We’ll be fine. A new territory will be fun.”

Tumbleweed took a deep breath and meowed,

“Sister, I won’t be going. I will stay here.

I never recovered from the greencough.

I’m not strong enough to make it.

I will stay with the other elders and face the Twolegs.

You and Lightmoon will have to go without me.”

Knowing it would do no good to argue with him, Shinestorm called Lightmoon over, and until the very last second they stayed with him, sharing memories. Shinestorm looked back just before leaving the camp, and saw her beloved brother standing there, straight and tall, facing certain death. Robotically, she kept moving forward.

.

.

.

Shinestorm felt the tears slip down her cheeks as Tumbleweed’s image engulfed her mind. That last sight of him had always haunted her, especially when Lightmoon had so recently died. But her mind kept moving through the memories, and she smiled at what came next . . .

.

.

.

Liontracks asked, his familiar face as shy as a young apprentice’s,

“Do you love me?”

Without having to think, Shinestorm knew the answer.

“More than anything.”

Thus began her next new dawn. Two ThunderClan legacies coming together. Shinestorm couldn’t help but wonder,

What will our kits be like?

A moon later, she found out she was expecting. She moved into the nursery, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen . . .

.

.

.

ShadowClan tore through the camp, their eyes glowing with battle lust. Belly swinging, Shinestorm forced herself out of the nursery opening and into the claws of the ShadowClan warrior Stormsurge. She’d always liked the serious, powerful tom, but in her camp she would treat him as any enemy.

As she raked her claws down his face, a screech she knew well sounded from the clearing, where the thick of the battle raged. Liontracks had pinned down an enemy warrior, but a tabby Shinestorm vaguely recognized as Sparrowflight, Stormsurge’s sister, attacked Liontracks from behind.

Liontracks threw Sparrowflight off, but the warrior he had been pinning lunged upwards and bit down on Liontracks’ throat. Shinestorm screamed, her wail cutting through the battle. She bowled over Stormsurge and, heedless of the danger she was in, threw herself at all of the enemies surrounding her mate. She sent Sparrowflight howling from the camp, and several other warriors followed her.

But Shinestorm only cared about one warrior: The fallen tomcat in the middle of the carnage. For the rest of the battle, she stood guard over her mate’s body, her maddened gaze warning any cat to stay away.

.

.

.

Shinestorm looked at her belly. The scar from Sparrowflight’s claws could just barely be seen.

Sadly I cannot say the same for the scars on my heart,

she mused, gazing at the stars again. They seemed to be even closer now than before. The sight was no longer odd or frightening, but probably the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Except, perhaps, for Trackkit, Flamekit, Harmonykit, and Hollykit. The most beautiful kits, even though now they were warriors with kits of their own. The poor things had never even gotten to meet their father. Flamestone was Cryptidstar’s mate, and their first litter had recently been apprenticed. Darkpaw, Dewpaw, Sealpaw, and Mottledpaw.

“My sweet grandkits . . .”

Shinestorm whispered, the snow around her muffling the sound. There was one last memory though. Another proud moment . . .

.
.

.

“I say these words in the sight of StarClan, so that they may hear and approve my choice,”

Cryptidstar meowed, her voice ringing out through the cold night air.

“Shadowfeather will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”

Shinestorm’s jaw dropped. Her beautiful, intelligent, sometimes moody apprentice had risen to deputy! And so young! Shinestorm dashed up to Shadowfeather, purring so loudly she thought she might burst.

A voice echoed in her head:

“You have done well, Shinestorm.”

Startled, she whipped around, but no cat had spoken to her. Shrugging, she turned back to her new deputy.

.

.

.

Shinestorm took a deep breath and relaxed. Now she understood. The voice had not been that of an earthly cat, but one that watched from the heavens above. Her life had been long, full of ups and downs, and certainly successes. What more was there left for her to do?

“I love you ThunderClan.”

Slowly, she closed her eyes, hiding her icy blue eyes, and her heartbeats grew further and further apart, until they were silent forever. Her body blended with the snow as it fell, dusting her slender, powerful frame.
As the sun came up, a brisk breeze swept through the trees, and Shinestorm’s spirit raced joyously through the camp, swirling around Sparkfall and tickling Cryptidstar’s ears. She laughed, for her body no longer ached, and her scar was gone. Her parents, Tumbleweed, all three mates, her kits, and her friends raced at her sides. At last, she was at peace.

(ooc) Posted December 27th, 2009, in ThunderClan Camp under the title “Shinestorm’s Final Hour {My Life In Memories}.”

Goodbye Shinestorm. You still mean the world to me. And your blood will continue to flow through ThunderClan forever.

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

I'm three steps from the edge
Don't push me over it
Don't you know
Don't you know

“AGAIN!”

The gray tabby’s snarl cut through the mid-morning air. The black tom hissed, foiled yet again and trapped beneath the tabby. Both cats panted hard, their pelts covered in dust and grass.

“Stonestar!”

Crowheart complained, pushing his way out from underneath her.

“We’ve been at this since before sunrise! I’m exhausted.”

Stonestar rolled her eyes, as blue as the mid-morning sky, as far back into her head as they would go. She gave up large portions of her very limited time to Crowheart, and this was the thanks she got.

“You’ve got seasons of catching up to do if you want to stop getting sneered at. I support you but you’re going to have to do the work. Or you can leave . . .?”

Crowheart shook out his pelt, shaking his head violently.

“No way. I just . . . I feel like I’m not getting any better at this. I train every day, all day . . . and nothing.”

Her heart went out to him. He’d worked so hard for a season now to catch up to the SkyClan-blood warriors, and he was oh-so-close. But he could never be satisfied and Stonestar didn’t want him to just be average. Rogue-born, he had to surpass every warrior in the Clan.
In her eyes, the scruffy black tom could pass for a SkyClanner any day of the week. He could hunt very well, he’d passed all of her tree climbing and fighting assessments, his pads were hard and tough, his hindquarters muscular . . . he just couldn’t quite pass his own assessments.
Because they were unattainably high.
His nerves never helped. Every time a cat sneered at him, made a joke at his expense, or - the worst - brought up Tempestpaw or Cloversplash, he retreated back into his shell again.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t live up to his own potential - he’d lost the will to.

“You’re too hard on yourself,”

she meowed gently, nudging his shoulder with her nose. She could feel his exhausted muscles trembling, not just with the effort of their training but simply with the effort of standing when he felt like crumpling.

“You’re a fine warrior. You asked me to help you and that’s all I’m trying to do.”

“I know. I feel like it’ll never be enough though, ya know? No amount of training will make the Clan accept me if they don’t want to.”

She opened her mouth, ready to refute his words . . . and came up with nothing. Despite her efforts, assigning him to patrols, and near-constant snapping at dissenters, Crowheart’s words fell true. Clan cats did not take well to outsiders. An outsider that was linked to not one, but two dead mates from the same family? From her family? Most cats thought her crazy letting Crowheart into the Clan, and even crazier for trusting him around her kits.

Stonestar sighed. She’d never seen Crowheart as anything but family since the day Tempestpaw confessed her feelings for the scruffy tom. And when she’d successfully cajoled him into helping liberate the Clans from StoneClan’s tyranny, a bond was struck between them. A bond so deep that nothing could shake her loyalty to him.

That day she’d thrashed him on the border felt like seasons upon seasons ago, and different cats. She trusted and loved Crowheart more than she did her own brothers.

“Let’s take a break. Just for a bit,”

she suggested gently, feeling a pang of guilt as the black brute immediately fell to his knees. Maybe she was pushing him too hard. Though, not any harder than he pushed himself.

The wind, which had been completely still, picked up in a gust that ruffled both of their pelts. Squinting, Stonestar turned and scented the wind - and gasped. Strong rogue scent slammed into her scent glands, fresh and rancid.
She whirled, her tail frantically signaling Crowheart. To his credit, the scruffy tom leaped to his paws almost before her signal had been sent.

“Well well well, we got some comp-ney Horace,”

drawled the rumpled-looking brown tom.

“Looks like it, Jasper,”

growled the big ginger one.

“And lookie here! If it ain’t little Becky! How ya doin’ Becky? We heard you’d done taken up with a purdy little she-cat from CloudClan or whatever it is. She don’t look none too friendly. Good - feisty ones are better lovers.”

The brown one - Jasper - giggled at his own joke.
Stonestar narrowed her eyes. This pitiful clump of fur had no right to even be here, much less speak so crassly to her or to Crowheart.
Crowheart beat her to it:

“You’re trespassing. And this isn’t my mate. It’s my Clan leader and your worst nightmare.”

The warmth that flooded her at Crowheart’s words - and his use of the phrase “my leader” - quickly snuffed out as Horace spoke up, yellow eyes narrowed in hate.

“Shut up, Becky. We ain’t afraid of you or your little girlfriend. Now. We hungry. And you’ve got some fat birds here. So why don’t you help us out? Either catch us dinner or get out of the way.”

A low growl started up in her chest, bubbling and growing until she seemed to swell from within. Her tail twitched in another silent signal and she took a threatening step forward.

“Neither. Get lost.”

Jasper giggled again, an unhinged sound that set her fur on end.

“Sorry sweetheart. It don’t work like that.”

And he was coming for her almost before she could react. Dropping to her stomach, she flipped over and bundled him away with her paws just before he could land on her. She spared Crowheart the smallest glance, but he was straddling a snarling Horace and didn’t seem to need any help.
She crashed into the rogue again and immediately felt the smallest flare of panic:
She and Crowheart had been training hard for hours already. Her muscles were sore and she knew his were too.
Though Jasper looked skinny, she could feel hard muscles pounding under his fur, bulging in her mouth as she clamped her fangs down on his shoulder until he snarled. She barely ducked a swipe from his unsheathed claws, and in his wild gaze she remembered what Crowheart had told her moons ago:

“Rogues have no code.

Whatever gets them to their destination is what they will do.

If you fight with a code, you’ll lose.”

Jasper’s claws swiped over her face and she hissed as his claws hit her ears. She flung her head forward, throwing blood in his face. He snarled but he just kept coming. She could hear the scuffles and snarls from the ball of fur that was Horace and Crowheart but she could not take her eyes off of Jasper. WindClan and ShadowClan moves were useless here. Some RiverClan brute force helped, but she longed for a river to leap out of or push her adversary into. They were out in the open, with only a few trees too far away to climb into. Her ThunderClan knowledge wouldn’t help either.
Even her SkyClan moves were barely keeping Jasper at bay.

She felt the rocky face of the cliffs against her tail and pushed back harder, knowing she’d be trapped if she didn’t get out of here, fast.
As if in slow motion, Jasper’s paws came to her shoulders just as she rose on her hind-legs to meet him, catching her under her forelegs. Her exhausted hind-legs trembled, then collapsed.

The cold, hard surface of the rock hit the back of her head and she felt the lightning sear through her body.

As if in slow motion, she crumpled to the rocky dirt. She saw Jasper leering over her and tried to pull her numb legs back underneath her, but they did not respond. Crowheart’s icy blue gaze pierced the space between them and she saw his mouth widen in a yowl she could not hear.
She thought fleetingly of Ravenghost, of her family, of her four tiny daughters waiting at home. Then the blackness washed over her vision.

.
.
.

Stonestar jerked up to her paws, grumbling under her breath. She was in the Gathering clearing. She whipped her head around to see Tempestpaw padding slowly towards her down the hill, her red-amber eyes soft and wise as always.
But Stonestar was not calmed.

“Did you see that? That son of a betch killed me!”

Stonestar snarled, tearing at the warm grass with her claws.

“And I’ve left Crowheart alone with them! Oh StarClan he’s not here too is he?”

She looked around wildly, stopping when she saw the soft smile on Tempestpaw’s face.

“Peace, dear sister. Crowheart is a good warrior. Trust in him. Take the time your body needs to heal.”

The tabby leader sat down with a bump and a huff.

“Fourth life already. They’re going faster than I thought they might.”

Tempestpaw shrugged, and Stonestar squinted at her sister’s paws. There seemed to be puffs of dust, or smoke, or something, wrapping around her paws. As she watched, they seemed to take corporeal shape - but only for moments.

“Tempestpaw . . .?”

“Yes, they’re kits. My kits. Crowheart’s kits.”

Tempestpaw looked down at the shapes as they whirled. Stonestar made out two . . . maybe three. Maybe just two. Her heart squeezed and she reached out a paw instinctively, wanting to touch them - but they dis-formed at her touch.

“They died with me, so they are part of me, never to truly be their own forms. But they play and feel and love the same as I do.”

Stonestar longed to tell Tempestpaw yet again about how sorry she was, about how she deserved the same life and blessings that Stonestar had been given. But she’d said those things every time she’d walked with her sister among the stars.

“Tempestpaw . . . what of Crowheart? Am I doing the right thing? Is he doing the right thing? What is his future?”

“His destiny will be as important as that of any SkyClanner.”

Tempestpaw’s words were heavy but firm, and Stonestar knew she’d get no more out of the spiky-furred femme.

“Go now, sister. You’ve done well.”

.
.
.

She sprang to her paws and onto the tree trunk as though the command had been sent from StarClan, not her. Twisting on the trunk, she saw Crowheart entangled in a mass of whirling brown and ginger pelts. But he was on his feet and yowling ferociously.

“You’ll pay for this! Both of you!”

“Nah!”

Jasper taunted as Horace headbutted Crowheart’s chest.

“I’m still hongree!”

Crowheart backed away from Horace, coughing. But she knew that stance. That move. She saw his eyes find her in the tree. This was her shot.
Horace leaped for Crowheart’s jaws aiming for a killing bite to the spine.
Stonestar vaulted off of the tree trunk, flipping backwards through the air to land on Horace’s broad back. As she landed, she saw, for the most fleeting moment, a black pelt. But not Crowheart’s. No. Her sisters were beside her, helping her defend their love.

“Party’s over boys,”

she hissed, raking her claws over Horace’s shoulders. Fury welled up in her at the idea that this lawless scrap of fur had dared to attempt such a move on an honorable warrior.

“If you fight with a code, you’ll lose.”

She clamped her jaws down on the back of Horace’s neck and pulled backwards, hearing his yowls of fury morph into squeals of agony. She kept pulling until Horace’s paws left the ground. She yanked back sharply and a sickening crack split the air so loudly that Crowheart and Jasper both whirled in her direction.

She let Horace’s body fall from her jaws to crumple at her feet. Jasper’s yellow eyes flew open wide and his mouth gaped stupidly. It froze that way as Crowheart’s claws flashed, white against brown, into his throat.
A flash of scarlet blood soaked Crowheart’s paw, splashing onto the dirt and sparse grass as Jasper’s head landed in his own blood, eyes still staring sightlessly. The whole world went so still that Stonestar almost felt like she’d landed back in the Gathering clearing again.

Finally she found words:

“Crowheart . . . are you okay?”

Her fur crawled with what they’d done. She’d coached, and been coached all of her life, that an honorable warrior never had to kill to win a battle, and that one that did had no honor at all. She marched over to Jasper on trembling paws and shut his eyes so they'd stop staring at the sky.

Crowheart’s reply came stronger than she’d expected.

“I’m okay. Those b*a*stards had it coming.”

The ice in his voice startled her and she brought her head up to him. He looked back steadily, though she could see his nervousness.

“Stonestar . . . we’re warriors of honor. They weren’t. They were willing to kill us just for a chance at prey. They would have killed any cat in this Clan, in any Clan, to get what they want. Would you feel remorse if it had been Icekit, Badgerkit, Stormkit, or Tempestkit they’d attacked? Ravenghost? Ivystep?”

Without waiting for her answer he continued:

“Honor ends before I’ll let my life end. If that makes me a lawless rogue instead of a warrior then maybe I don’t understand the code as well as I thought I did.”

She stared down at Jasper’s body. She couldn’t believe that the skinny brute had actually found a way to take one of her lives. Maybe if she’d employed Crowheart’s rogue tricks sooner, she would still have her fourth life.
Guilt burned under her pelt.
She needed to do something productive.

“We’ll bury them outside the territory - the border isn’t far. And Larksong and Crimsonpaw can be trusted not to ask too many questions about our injuries.”

She eyed his bleeding left shoulder.

“You can handle that as you see fit . . . but this battle never happened. Nothing happened today. Understood?”

She saw his mouth opening, probably to argue, but he paused, just as she knew he would. She willed him to bow to his loyalty to her, to keep this secret. This terrible revelation of their brutality.

“You’re going to lie to the Clan about your lives?”

She shrugged and took hold of Jasper’s scruff. As she dragged, she mumbled,

“Not lying. It’s not their business to know. I’m not in the business of making my Clan panic needlessly. Because this will never happen again.”

She stopped a few fox-lengths outside the border and looked Crowheart, who’d brought Horace over, dead in the eyes.

“I want you to teach me more. Teach me until I don’t hesitate. I failed today and I don’t intend to do so again. I failed you. I failed SkyClan. Never again.”

He wanted to argue again - she could see it. And he did argue often. But she also knew that he wouldn’t. Not today. He couldn’t find a flaw in her logic big enough to change her mind.
His tight nod sufficed and they set to work digging. She dug until her claws ached. They pushed the bodies in and unceremoniously filled in the hole. She pushed a few rocks haphazardly over the mound so it looked less obvious, and heaved a sigh.

“Let’s get back to camp.”

“Great. Let’s go watch me get laughed at again.

Since I fell off of the cliffs and hurt my shoulder.”

He glanced askance at her but Stonestar didn’t take the bait like he wanted. Instead she simply mewed,

“I think you’ll find more than a few cats in your corner if you looked for them instead of moping around.”

“I doubt it.”

Crowheart heaved a sigh as they continued their slow trek home. His shoulder dripped blood but it didn’t hinder his forward motion.

“Some days, I think it’s you, Ravenghost and the kits, and maybe Ashsong, that can tolerate my presence. No one else would care if I live or die.”

Of course he’d mentioned Ashsong. She saw how he watched her. How he purred when she sat near him or talked to him at the fresh-kill pile. And she’d noticed how she stood up for him, how she watched him as he walked off alone.

“She knows the value you bring to the Clan. Ashsong is a kind and intelligent cat.”

“Yeah, she is isn’t she?”

Biting her lip on the purr of amusement at the dreamy tone that had snuck into the scruffy tom’s voice, she simply replied,

“She is indeed.”

Every girl is capable of murder, if you hurt her
Watch out you don't push me any further
You're not the only one walking 'round
With a loaded gun

[ShinoDino first of her name!]

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

The black tom skirted through the shadows, wrinkling his nose at the horrible stench around him.
He hoped Tempestpaw didn't stink like these StoneClanners did. Then again, he smelled like them too.
Beck sniffed himself again, trying not to gag. For a quarter moon he'd lived in StoneClan territory, rolling on scent marks and gradually taking on StoneClan scent so he could get inside.

"Tempestpaw?"

he called out authoritatively, acting like the stuck-up StoneClan guards he'd been observing. Once he had Tempestpaw alone, then he would drop the act.
But for now, he'd see how long he could act like a bada**.

She didn’t move, glaring at him with those haunting eyes. She hated him now. Distrusted him. She didn’t have a reason yet to think otherwise.

"What, Beck?"

she spat out.

Beck took a deep breath, keeping his face impassive.

"Follow me like a good little girl and you'll find out,"

he meowed smoothly.
Then his heart stopped. He'd heard already about the amount of Clan she-cats being forced to bear StoneClan kits. Every cat within earshot probably thought this was yet another bit of trickery.

"Come now, Sablestar won't wait, and neither will I,"

he snarled, letting his eyes flash just like he'd seen Sablestar, Ransomeyes, and so many others do.

I'm so sorry. I have to do this. Please just obey. Please.

Tempestpaw growled deep in her throat as she padded behind him.

"I can't believe I trusted you,"

she hissed.

Beck said nothing, but held his breath as pain stabbed through him. Hopefully he could convince Tempestpaw he was doing this for her, trying to help.
The moment they were out of earshot and sight of any other cats, Beck shouldered them both into a secluded cave, and dropped his guard.

"I'm sorry; I know you hate me, but I had to do it! I'm not one of them I swear! I had to know if you were okay, Tempestpaw."

His icy blue eyes begged even more than his words as he added,

"Please trust me."

His dark pelt nearly blended him into the cave walls, but a small stream of light caught a nasty scar on his left shoulder. A scar Stonepaw had put there while driving him out of SkyClan territory all those moons ago. Beck knew fully that he could expect much worse from Stonepaw and others for coming here, but he had to try.
Tempestpaw was special. She was . . . everything. His everything. He’d die for her.

Coming here might just end up that way.

He saw how her eyes softened even though she kept sneering at him. She loved him too - she’d said so the last time he’d seen her. That last beautiful day he’d never forget. They’d played on the border, giggling and racing and wrestling, then lounging in the sun. He’d never wanted to leave her side.
If he’d stayed with her, maybe she wouldn’t be here now.

“I’m okay, I guess.”

Her soft voice took him by surprise. She still looked so angry. But beneath all of that anger lay the she-cat he loved and that loved him.

“It’s so horrible here. Beck, you need to go. Run!

I don’t want you to get hurt or trapped too.”

“Not without you!”

Beck insisted, nuzzling her cheek tenderly.

“I’m not leaving you in this place!”

She pulled sharply back and her eyes were alight with a fire he’d never seen. And - unless he imagined it - a touch of fear?

“I can’t leave!”

“Why not? Tempestpaw, it’s horrifically dangerous here! I can get you out! You’ll be safe with me!”

“Because Stonepaw needs me! My family needs me! And-”

She paused and Beck noticed with alarm that she sounded like she was about to cry. Tempestpaw was strong. Happy. Vivacious. She never cried.

“And because I’m going to have kits. Our kits.”

How exactly could he still stand when his heart had stopped beating? His brain shorted out and her next words came to him as if through the narrowest of the caves.

“I know it’s unsafe here, but I need Hinafeather and Larksong.

They’ll make sure our kits are safe.

Stonepaw promised she will never let anything happen to me.”

“I can take care of you! I promise! I know I’m not a medicine cat or anything but I swear I’ll never let anything happen to you!”

Shaking like a leaf, he half-lunged into her, wrapping his body around her as though he could protect her simply by being as close to her as possible. She felt so small, so vulnerable. It seemed so thrillingly impossible that, already within her, their kits slept.

He felt her head gently pressing down on his, guiding it to her stomach. He let himself be prodded, heart thundering.

“I’ve only just started to feel them, so I don’t know if you will . . .”

He wanted to push into her, hard. He wanted, needed, to feel their kits. To give him hope. But he felt nothing yet.

“I just need to feel you. To know you’re alive and okay.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and straightened up. Fear for her and absolute terror for their kits, crashed over him in a choking wave.

“Tempestpaw . . . are you sure you won’t come with me?”

She shook her spiky-furred head gravely and his heart sank.

“I have Stonepaw looking out for me. And I have you waiting for me.

I need to stay here, for my family. For our kits.”

She stretched up to touch his nose and he nearly drowned in her sweet scent.

“We’ll be together one day when this nightmare is over. You’ll see.”

She nuzzled him and turned to leave the cleft. Just before she disappeared, she turned back to him. Beck memorized her this way, her fur spiky and wild, her deep red-amber eyes full of love. If he looked hard enough, he could maybe imagine a slight roundness to her slender frame.
Soon, she would be weighed down with their kits. Their little family.
Their combined love.

“I love you, Beck.”

Her sweet voice washed over him, filling him with hope. Nothing in the world could ever be too awful. Not with someone as unfathomably amazing as Tempestpaw in it.

“I love you too, Tempestpaw. I’ll come back again.”

.
.
.

His pawsteps quick and soundless, he skirted through the caves. He’d managed to wait a whole half moon, but with scents growing thicker and tension getting higher, he had to see her. He had to know she was okay. That their kits were okay.
And this time, he would convince her to come with him. She had to leave!

Ahead he could hear confused murmurs and the scents of many, many cats hit his scent glands. He ducked into a cleft in the wall and tried to figure out where they were going. No matter what the caves, he, or anyone else smelled like, he’d be noticed as an outsider within seconds.

Just ahead of him, he could just make out a series of ledges that seemed to lead upwards. Making a split-second choice, he followed the ledges up into a narrow alcove. Squeezing through on his stomach, he emerged onto a ledge that looked out over a dimly lit cavern that teemed with cats and fear-scent.
He shrank back into the shadows as far as he could and prayed to StarClan that his dark pelt would hide him. Beck gave a cautious sniff. Clearly, from the large gathering and excessive fear-scent, something big was happening.

He could see Sablestar leering down over the gathered crowd with that same insane sneer upon her maw. His pelt prickled. He feared no cat. But Sablestar gave him the creeps. The sensation that his pelt was trying to run off of his body was, if possible, more uncomfortable than any fear.

The gathered horde of cats shifted and it seemed, as best as he could tell from his vantage point, that the crowd was being divided by some arbitrary rule that he hadn’t yet determined. That crawling sensation increased and his heart rate doubled. He needed to find Tempestpaw. The sooner he found her, he sooner he could whisk her away when this event ended. Whatever it was.

Screeches of fear reached his ears and he nearly leaned too far out of his hiding place. Now there arched a definite divide between a few cats at the front of the crowd and the rest of the Clan cats. He recognized a few of StoneClan’s guards between the two groups.

Then he spotted a wild gray-black pelt. In the front. Alone.

The blood roared in his ears and everything seemed to happen so quickly.

The guards shoved Tempestpaw upon the rock. She screeched something to Sablestar, crouching low. A tussle near the front of the line distracted him and his eyes flew unbidden to Stonepaw, struggling to reach her sister.

The realization hit him too late.

His mouth opened in a soundless wail of horror and his muscles bunched to leap from his ledge. He cared nothing for his safety. He cared only for the spiky-furred femme that cowered before Sablestar.

His claws scraped stone just as the long talons flashed out, blinding him. They sank through Tempestpaw’s throat as if tearing through moss.

And his entire body froze.

Now time moved in agonizing slowness. And he could not move. He could only watch as Tempestpaw crumpled to the stone. Could only crouch, motionless, as scarlet blood poured from her throat, soaking the stone.
His eyes could not look away from her paws. Even as she fell, they curled protectively around her belly.

Her slightly rounded womb.

Screams rattled through his brain and for one wild moment he thought he’d screamed. Two screams. Though his eyes did not consciously move, he saw two she-cats, one a light gray tabby, the other a familiar darker silver tabby with prominent stripes like a bee. Stonepaw. The light gray tabby he did not know, but the hoarse screams of the two ripped through his heart.

The guards began to push the crowd back and his legs woke up. He fled back down the ledges on winged paws, back down the tunnels, relying on scent alone. His eyes were blinded by the image of Tempestpaw’s feet curling around her kits. Their kits.

Their kits that would never get a chance.

His numb paws fumbled and he tumbled, head over heels, down the slope and into a patch of bushes. He made no effort to get up. Let StoneClan find him. Let them kill him. His heart had already died.
Died on some stupid alter. For some stupid cat goddess.

The burning down his face did not register at first, nor the warm wetness. But the lowered voices and choking grief-scent did.
Feeling as though he watched himself move from outside his own body, Beck raised his head and torso. A group of cats moved through the shadows, carrying something between them.
No . . . not something. Someone.

He caught Stonepaw’s scent and his stomach clenched. He rose to his paws and slunk through the shadows after the little group. He recognized none of the other scents and some part of his brain knew that he could not approach the group. They would not recognize him as anything but an enemy.

But Beck watched out for the group anyway as they moved stealthily through the darkness. They traveled into the old SkyClan territory, through oaks and birches, to a patch of rose bushes. The group set to work quickly, digging with their powerful hindlegs instead of their forepaws.

As Tempestpaw’s limp form disappeared into the earth, Beck’s entire body convulsed. Something, some invisible force, must have held him back, because his heart cried to run over to her, to bury his nose in her pelt one final time.
But again, he could not move. He could only watch as the love of his life disappeared into the earth forever, could only listen silently to the hurried goodbyes given by the group, could only tremble with each soft pawful of dirt that returned to its place.

The group retreated, and he almost emerged from his hiding place to intercept Stonepaw. But his paws carried him instead of the soft mound of still-warm earth. Hot tears flowed freely onto the fresh dirt.
At last, he released. A low keening rose up through his stomach, through his chest, through his soul. It cracked out of his mouth, his shaking paws giving way beneath him.

He’d never see her again.
Never smell her fur again.
Never watch their kits romp through the grass or chase butterflies.
Never again see her eyes look back on him with love.
Never hear her sweet voice again.
Never again just sit and stare at her as she did quite ordinary things.
Never again watch her make the most ordinary things extraordinary.

Never.

Never.

The word rang in his head.

“Stonepaw promised she will never let anything happen to me.”

“I swear I’ll never let anything happen to you!”

Never.

Never.

Never.

Never.

.
.
.

Never again.

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you