TB MOONRISE -- Chapter 14

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Feathertail stretched her jaws wide in a yawn. She glanced up at the sky, which was beginning to brighten with dawn’s light. Stars still twinkled in the blacker parts, while the full moon was beginning to fade behind the trees. Now that the Gathering was over, Feathertail wanted nothing more than to curl up in her nest and sleep till sunhigh.

She followed her Clanmates across the Twoleg bridge and onto the trail towards camp, her pelt brushing with her brother’s. He always seemed eager and happy, no matter what. Feathertail suppressed another yawn, wondering if he was somehow sending his tiredness to her.

Feathertail let herself fall back a few paces. The sound of her chatting Clanmates was beginning to make her head pound. She watched them from the back of the patrol, saw their bright eyes and twitching whiskers, and wondered…

They’re so happy, she thought. Feathertail’s eye drew to the river, dark and moving slowly. Her reflection wavered on the surface, and Feathertail saw how tired she looked. Why aren’t I?

“Feathertail, can we talk?”

Feathertail lifted her head, finding that Tawnypelt had slowed her step to walk beside her. Blinking in surprise, Feathertail stammered, “Y-Yes, of course.”

Tawnypelt tilted her head and led the way into the reeds, off the trail that their Clanmates were taking. Feathertail followed, her pelt prickling in the chilly morning air. Had she done something wrong?

They headed upslope for a time, the dawn light sending pink and yellow claws through the sky above. As the sun broke over the far horizon, Tawnypelt stopped, sitting down among the reeds with her tail curled over her paws.

Feathertail sat beside her, recognizing this place. RiverClan’s territory was low, for the most part, with only a few large hills to speak of – this was one of them. Covered in long grass and heather, ringed by a fox-length of stone on one side, this was the tallest hill on RiverClan territory. It was nothing compared to the steep slopes of WindClan’s moor, but from here a cat could see nearly every part of RiverClan’s land – including the camp, which drew Feathertail’s eye.

The cluster of willows looked like any other part of the landscape up here – no cat could tell there was a whole camp there, with reed-woven dens and walls, not unless they already knew where to look. Feathertail could pick out the camp entrance from here, and she spotted Leopardstar leading her Clanmates through and into the shelter of the willows.

Feathertail glanced at Tawnypelt. The Clan deputy, her former mentor, was looking out at the camp, too, her amber eyes even. Frowning, Feathertail had to ask: “What is it you wanted?”

Tawnypelt turned her muzzle. “I heard you talking to Graystripe and Silverstream at the Gathering.”

Feathertail frowned. Oh… that. She knew that Tawnypelt would have no issue with her talking with her parents, especially at a Gathering, but if she’d overheard…

“Do you intend to go to ThunderClan?” Tawnypelt asked.

Feathertail looked down at her paws, guilt prickling her pelt. Graystripe often offered the prospect of her and Stormfur moving to ThunderClan to be with them, but tonight he had been a little more earnest about the proposal. Feathertail wasn’t surprised that Tawnypelt overheard.

“No,” she answered, meeting Tawnypelt’s eye. “RiverClan is my home.”

Tawnypelt’s eyes flashed. “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Lately you’ve been distant – you hardly join patrols, you almost always hunt or eat on your own… I might be the only one who overheard Graystripe’s offer, but I’m not alone in wondering if you might be happier elsewhere.”

Feathertail bristled indignantly. “I am loyal to RiverClan!” she insisted. Who is saying otherwise? She looked at the camp, imagining the cats stirring within. What gave them the right to gossip and judge her behind her back?

“Sheathe your claws, Feathertail,” Tawnypelt meowed, her whiskers twitching. “All I’m saying is that I think many cats would understand if you left. I would understand. After what happened with Bluestar…”

Feathertail’s shoulders fell. It didn’t take much for her mind to turn back time to Bluestar and LionClan. RiverClan territory had been so strange, then; painted with blood and stinking of crow-food, a hill of bones towering above every cat. Feathertail’s stomach churned.

“You stayed, despite that,” she pointed out.

Tawnypelt nodded. “I did,” she sighed. “But it was hard, and I wasn’t young, with parents in another Clan asking me to come and live with them every other moon.” The deputy’s gaze was sympathetic. “Had Tigerstar stayed in Goldenflower’s life, Brambleclaw and I might have thought differently – but they weren’t mates when we were born. RiverClan was all I had ever known.

“You and Stormfur, on the other paw… you grew up with Graystripe telling you stories of ThunderClan, while RiverClan warriors watched.” Tawnypelt looked out over RiverClan territory. “It’s no secret that so many of the older warriors doubt your loyalties – don’t look at me like that, I’m most certainly not one of them!”

Tawnypelt sighed, her tail-tip flicking. “You hardly interact with your Clanmates, other than Stormfur or Mothpaw. You do your job, Feathertail, but I can see that your heart is troubled. Please… I only want you to be happy. If that happiness lies in ThunderClan…”

Feathertail looked down at her paws. “I belong to RiverClan,” she meowed. “I know I do, I just… it’s hard, having family in another Clan. But Stormfur is here, and wouldn’t leave him; not for anything.”

“You don’t have to tie your life to Stormfur’s, you know,” Tawnypelt pointed out. “You two are warriors now, not kits in the nursery. You can walk your own paths.”

Feathertail bristled. “Would you have left Brambleclaw?!”

“No,” Tawnypelt reasoned, “but he wouldn’t have been upset with me for doing what makes me happy – I don’t think Stormfur would be, either.”

“I am happy!” Feathertail insisted, growing hot under her pelt.

Tawnypelt blinked, her gaze soft. Feathertail wondered why she was studying her so – doesn’t she believe me?

“All right,” Tawnypelt decided, getting to her paws. “When you want to talk, know that I am here.” She flicked her tail. “Come on; let’s get home.”

Feathertail swallowed. She doesn’t believe me, she decided. She pushed herself to her paws and followed Tawnypelt down the slope and through the reeds. RiverClan is my home! she thought, flinching back as a reed snapped up into her face. I belong here!

I belong here!

———————————————————

“Where are we headed?” Feathertail wondered, her muscles burning.

Brook was waiting at the top of a steep trail, her tail dangling almost as if it were a lifeline for Feathertail. Gray, Sheer, Sun and Boulder had already made it to the top. Sun was looking over the side, her eyes wide. Boulder’s gaze was trained on the sky, while Gray and Sheer were talking quietly.

Conscious of Sun’s gaze, Feathertail put all her strength into climbing the trail. Stones clattered down behind her paws as she scrambled to the top in leaps and bounds, finally reaching Brook’s tail in a shower of dust that made Gray sneeze.

Brook’s whiskers twitched in amusement. Feathertail shook the dust from her mud-clumped pelt – something she was never going to get used to – and sat on her haunches to give her stinging pads a lick.

“We’re going up,” Brook meowed, nodding up the path.

Feathertail frowned, following her gaze. The trail they were on was steeper than any other Feathertail had used with the Tribe so far, and it looked as if it were zig-zagging its way up to the waterfall that cascaded over the Path of Rushing Water.

“It’s called Eagle Rock,” Sun chimed in, ears pricked excitedly. “Guess why!”

Feathertail frowned. “Because eagles live there?”

Sun nodded. Brook went on, “Most of the eagles in the mountains roost there, yes; but it is also the source of the waterfall’s water.”

Feathertail frowned. “But isn’t it dangerous to go where the eagles nest?”

“They don’t live there during frozen-water,” Sheer explained, stretching. “They come there in freed-water, to build their nests and make chicks. Some will be there now, I’m sure; but with clear skies they’ll be busy hunting for themselves.”

“Come.” Boulder’s mew was curt.

The massive cave-guard led the way up the next leg of the steep path. Feathertail followed, determined to keep up despite the soreness from her travels. This will just make me stronger for the path ahead, she told herself. I’ll be able to lead the Clans through any terrain!

She slipped on a pebble, skidding back a pace. Her paw throbbed, and Feathertail sighed. She looked up at the Tribe cats that were walking so effortlessly over the stony earth. Great StarClan, are they made of stone?

Brook padded up to her side, nudging her forward. “I’ll walk with you,” she promised.

“Me, too!” Sun purred. “This path is still hard for me, sometimes.”

Feathertail felt a prickle of gratitude for the two Tribe cats. Ushered on by their presence, she kept going. It will be hard to say good-bye, she thought. At least to Brook and Sun…

Her thoughts turned to the conversation the night before. The Tribe cats acted oddly, sure, but perhaps that was just because they were so isolated up here? Maybe they were like Purdy, trying to cling to strangers like friends? They haven’t been outwardly mean, she thought, pressing on. They probably don’t get many visitors up here. Their ways are just different…

Right?

The trip was long and arduous, and by the time they reached the top, Feathertail was beyond exhausted. Still, she recognized this spot, up here at the top of the waterfall. Her stomach churned – though the water had gone down, this narrow path was where she and the others had been swept away by the flood and driven down to the pool below.

Brook must have seen her hesitation. “You and your Clanmates went the wrong way,” she explained, sympathy in her voice. “The trail you were supposed to follow was far gentler.”

“I wish we’d known,” Feathertail sighed, looking ahead. The tree that had caused the surge of water was nothing more than a charred stump at the far end of the path. The rest of it had been carried down the waterfall with the Clan cats. The Tribe cats had taken in what debris they could carry for the elders to carve stories onto. “The rain was so bad, we couldn’t see where else to go.”

“I’m sure Brook will show you,” Gray purred, glancing back at the small brown tabby with twitching whiskers. “You’re like her… what did you call them? Apprentices? You’ve been like her apprentice since you arrived.”

“Gray!” Brook spat, bristling.

“It’s true,” Sheer purred, tail winding over her back. “You’ve not hunted without her since she got here!”

Feathertail’s pelt burned, but she imagined that Brook’s was on fire. The small brown she-cat looked very upset, with her tail standing straight up and bristled to the ends of its fur.

“Quiet, all of you,” rumbled Boulder. The big tom sighed and gestured with his tail. “Let’s keep moving.”

Brook didn’t meet Feathertail’s gaze as the patrol moved on, following the narrow path beside the water. Feathertail swallowed, forcing herself to focus on not falling into the rushing water just a tail-length away instead of how Gray and Sheer had poked at their Tribemate.

They walked through the valley that Feathertail recognized, heading for another trail that ramped upward on the other side. Gray was the one to point out the far smoother track that pointed towards the sunrise, where the Clan cats would have continued had the storm not caught them off guard. Feathertail swallowed, feeling like a kit for not noticing such an obvious path, even in the rain. What kind of RiverClan cat are you?

Boulder and Sheer led the way up the next trail, walled by stone and water. There was little to look at but the occasional clinging scrub or withered, dying tree. The stone was cold here, and Feathertail wondered if the sun ever reached this place.

Finally they broke through, and Feathertail was stunned by the sunlight. It was another open expanse ringed by stone, but here there were trees aplenty, and even grass. Feathertail was stunned as the patrol padded onto the far softer earth that ringed a great pool of water, fed by uncountable other waterfalls at the far end of the trail.

“Wow,” Feathertail breathed. The air here smelled of growing things and grass, not stone or water. It was so different.“This is beautiful…”

“Many herbs grow here,” pointed out Sheer. Her tail flicked to the trees – they were more spindly than trees elsewhere, but they were growing far stronger and were still clinging to their leaves, unlike most trees in the mountains. “And the eagles nest high in these trees during freed-water.”

“We take their chicks, sometimes,” Gray purred, licking his lips. “They’re quite tasty!”

Feathertail was still stunned by the sudden color. She couldn’t help but pad up to the shore of the water and look down into its depths. Looking past her mud-covered pelt, she was shocked to discover a bunch of dark shapes flitting back and forth beneath the surface.

“Fish!” she purred, looking back at the patrol. “There are fish here!”

Brook’s eyes lit up. “I know!” she purred back. “That’s why I thought hunting here might be good – you mentioned your Clan could fish. I wondered if you might teach us how.”

“Of course!” Feathertail was breathless. She looked back at the water, paws tingling eagerly.

“Really?” Gray seemed shocked. “That’d be very helpful. Only Cold has ever spoken of fishing, and her memory has grown unreliable in her age.”

“I still like her stories, though!” Sun chimed in. The young cat slid up to Feathertail’s side, crouching beside the water. “So, what do we do, Feathertail? Just push our heads in?”

Feathertail’s fur fluffed. “Oh, StarClan no!” she insisted. She pushed Sun back from the edge of the water. “Firstly, you don’t just lean over the water like that, not unless you want the fish to go right for the center. You’ll never get them then!”

Sun obeyed, scrambling back from the water’s edge. Feathertail positioned herself properly, judging how her shadow might fall with the sun in its current position. It was very easy to do, but Feathertail sensed that without the ground cover of the forest – where the reeds and bushes would cast their own shadows to better hide a cat’s – it might be more difficult to fish here.

If the Tribe doesn’t fish, though…Feathertail was certain these fish might not know to be spooked by a cat’s shadow. Better safe than sorry.

Brook sat beside her, copying her position. Gray, however, announced that he would go looking for land prey while they were busy – he didn’t want to crowd the waters. Boulder and Sheer took up positions on smooth stones, where they could watch for the eagles which gave this part of their territory its name.

The Tribe cats needed little instruction in how to be patient. Feathertail wasn’t surprised, not after seeing them hunt; patience was paramount to keeping the Tribe fed, it seemed. Even Sun could sit still, despite her youth.

Feathertail demonstrated how to hook a fish with her claws, and was shocked at the size of trout she’d managed to catch. She killed it with a quick blow of her paw, and took a moment to examine it. It was much bigger here than in the forest, likely because of how untouched the fish were.

Brook soon had her own fish hooked, and Sun leaped to kill it. Sun’s catch was lost due to clumsy paws, but Feathertail assured her that it happened even to RiverClan cats – sometimes fish were just slippery.

As the sun arced overhead, Sun finally managed to catch her own fish. Feathertail caught another, and then helped Brook catch her second, too. Finally, Feathertail looked down at their pile of fish and declared that they needed to stop.

“The fish will all be hiding now,” she meowed. “We might have gotten a little overzealous!”

Brook licked her lips. “This will feed the Tribe for sure,” she purred. Her eyes shone as she looked at Feathertail. “Thank you!”

“That was fun!” Sun agreed, shaking out her paws.

Gray returned then, a rabbit in his jaws. His brow perked at their catch. “Better luck than I had,” he admitted. “Boulder, Sheer, do you see all this food?”

Boulder nodded, his tail-tip flicking. “We will eat well tonight.”

“I can’t wait,” purred Sheer, eyes shining. “Good job, Feathertail!”

Feathertail nodded to Brook and Sun. “It wasn’t just me,” she admitted, feeling bashful. She nudged Brook playfully. “With a name like ‘Brook Where Small Fish Swim,’ I’m not surprised!”

Brook flattened her ears, looking embarrassed. She nodded to the series of streams that ran away from the massive pool of water. “My father named me for this part of our territory, actually, when my littermate and I were born,” she admitted.

“Oh, really?” Feathertail pricked her ears with interest. Boulder, Sheer, and Gray were beginning to gather up their catch, while Sun took over keeping watch for eagles. “Well, it’s a great name. You have a littermate?”

Brook nodded, her eyes flashing down to her paws. “They’re gone,” she said quietly.

Feathertail swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she offered.

“It’s all right,” Brook meowed, shrugging it off. She lifted her muzzle, her eyes glittering. “They walk their own path now. Our ancestors keep them.”

Feathertail could see that she wanted to change the subject, and understood. She would find it hard to talk about Stormfur, too, if he died. She looked at Sun, who was padding over to the cave-guards, and wondered, “So… if Sun is training to-be a cave-guard, why does she hunt with prey-hunters?”

Brook seemed to welcome the change in topic. Taking a breath, she explained, “A to-be can always change their mind – and cave-guards hunt, too, though not as often. To-bes will make use of all the skills they’ve learned as a softpaw, like how your apprentices do – but Sun is ultimately to-be a cave-guard.”

Feathertail frowned. “I wish the Clans had more choices for our roles.”

Brook shrugged. “Things work well this way,” she meowed. “I run swiftly, and I’m small, so I can easily get into cracks where prey likes to hide – I make a good prey-hunter. Boulder is big, with thick fur and large paws; he can easily fend off a hawk or eagle. It works for us.”

“But what if Boulder wants to hunt instead?” Feathertail wondered. “Or what if Sun doesn’t grow thick fur or large paws? Will she have to be a prey-hunter?”

“If that’s what happens, then perhaps so,” Brook meowed in reply. “That’s the way things are, for us; we do what we are made best for.” She shrugged. “Why change it?”

Boulder and Sheer were leading the way out of the grassy valley. Feathertail didn’t want to go, yet, and she didn’t like Brook’s answer. If I lived here, I’d probably be a cave-guard, then, she thought. But she didn’t like the idea of staring at the sky, looking for hawks all day, nor could she think of only hunting. Would I have to fight to be what I wanted to be?

“What about Stoneteller?” she wondered, catching up to Brook at the back of the patrol. “What was he before he became a Stoneteller?”

“He was always meant to be a Stoneteller,” Brook answered, looking somewhat confused. “The Stoneteller that came before picked him as a kit, for his strong connection to our ancestors – just as our Stoneteller picked Snow.”

Feathertail felt her pelt prickling with mist as they headed through the cold stone tunnel. “He didn’t want to be anything else?”

“Why would he? Becoming Stoneteller is the highest honor a Tribe cat can have!” Brook looked surprised, her eyes glowing in the dim light. “He received nine lives and can commune with our ancestors and heal our Clanmates – what is more fulfilling than that?”

“I-I don’t know,” Feathertail admitted, “but what if he was scared? What if he wanted to be a prey-hunter, or something? Can he even have a family as Stoneteller?”

Brook’s whiskers twitched. “Of course not,” she answered patiently. “Stonetellers do not mate or have kits, nor are they allowed to appoint blood kin as their successors. It keeps things fair.”

Feathertail’s pelt flashed, and she thought of Mothwing. It doesn’t seem fair to me. She was aware of Sheer glancing back at them, eyes flickering curiously. Feathertail swallowed, deciding to lay off of those questions for now, in case she offended Brook and the other Tribe cats. I’m just a stranger; I shouldn’t be questioning their way of life like this. It’s just so different; but there’s a lot that we share.

Brook seemed to sense that she wanted to change the subject, too. “You mentioned while we were fishing that two cats fishing together is good,” she mewed. “Was there someone you fished with in RiverClan?”

“Stormfur, mostly,” Feathertail answered. Mothwing, too. “Or myself. It works just fine on your own.”

Brook looked curious, but her gaze was focused forward. “You have no mate that you would fish with?”

Feathertail swallowed, taken aback by the question for the moment. Brook wasn’t looking her way, and the other Tribe cats weren’t listening, it seemed. Feathertail coughed and answered, “N-No, no mate, though… there was a cat I was interested in.”

“Oh?”

Looking at the stone walls, pretending to find them interesting, Feathertail assured, “She wasn’t as interested in me as I was her.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Brook murmured. Feathertail felt their pelts brush together. “That must have been hard.”

“Well…” Feathertail swallowed again, facing forward. “She… she made her choice. She’s on her own path, now, and it makes her happy.”

“Then that is what matters, isn’t it?” Brook wondered. “That she is happy, and you are happy for her?”

Feathertail glanced down at the small she-cat. The little tabby looked so earnest, ignorant of Feathertail’s turbulent heart and how Mothwing’s rejection had sent her into such upheaval.

I am happy for Mothwing, really, Feathertail thought. She was a good warrior, but… She recalled Mothwing’s face when the moth’s wing sign was discovered. That light in her eyes… Being a medicine cat is where she belongs.

“Yes,” Feathertail agreed, a warm feeling creeping into her. “Yes… that’s what matters most.”