Waca - Blog Posts

Some owed art for Upsilon on Toyhouse!!

My school year ended today, so I'm free over the holidays! Hopefully, I will remember to post here! But I'll have to see.

We watched the Devil die that day. We watched him die 9 times

Moon 8

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Halfway around the world lies the one thing that you want

Buried in the ground, hundreds of miles down

Fogfreckle hasn’t stopped shuffling around since sundown. Moonstar may not have her eyes open, nose tucked firmly into her tail, but she can tell that he hasn’t stopped moving because the constant shff shff sound of him shifting around in his nest is driving her to madness. 

Willing sleep to come just a little bit faster, Moonstar flattens her ears as close to her head as she can get them and fluffs her tail up against her face. 

Shff, shff.

Fed up, Moonstar uncurls her tail from her face and sits bolt upright, mouth open to shout at her brother to just lay still already, but Fogfreckle cuts her off by springing quite suddenly to his paws. Having not seen him do much more than curl in a ball for two entire moons, the sight shocks Moonstar into stillness. 

“I can’t,” he meows into the darkness. “I can’t do it. I’m not going to suffocate in this– this– cave for another heartbeat. I’m going hunting.”

Moonstar’s annoyance flees from her immediately, like a mouse slipping from her claws. “Wait–” She scrambles to her paws, panic overtaking her as Fogfreckle reaches around to grab the edge of his cobweb wrappings in his teeth. “Wait, don’t! You can’t– what if your wounds open back up–”

With a wild tug, Fogfreckle rips at his cobwebs, pulling the sticky strands away from his fur. He keeps going, yanking at them, agitation and annoyance etched in the sharp lines of his thin limbs. Moonstar reaches for him, attempts to get him to stop, and Fogfreckle spins around with his hackles fluffed out and swipes at her. Narrowly dodging the reach of his claws, Moonstar gasps, retreating.

For a heartbeat, both cats stare at each other, tension thick in the air between them.

“Stop treating me like I’m a helpless kit,” Fogfreckle spits, torn cobwebs hanging from his jaws. They lay tattered against his white fur in shredded strands. “I’m fine! I don’t need you to– to play medicine cat at me! Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!”

His words sweep against Moonstar like a cliffside gust, the hurt they bring almost physically pushing her back. “I… I…” Several emotions cycle through her in the space of a single heartbeat, until it finally settles into a pulsing anger that crackles over her pelt like lightning. “I’m only trying to help! I’m looking out for you– we only have each other, in case you’ve forgotten,” she snaps, voice nasty, horrible satisfaction welling within her as the words strike her brother and he recoils. “We left the rest of our family behind, buried under a landslide!”

“As if I could forget!” Fogfreckle explodes. His reflective eyes are almost as sharp as the claws he’s sinking into the earth. “I can’t– I was useless to help them, and I’ve been useless for moons to help you, letting you go out on your own every day, when I’m the only one left who can keep you safe!” 

All of the anger rushes out of Moonstar, fast as a roaring river, as she stares at her brother, heart shattering. 

“I’m just–” he continues, yowls bouncing off of the boulders around them. “Sitting around in this dark hole, doing nothing from sunrise to sunset, wasting time we could be using to find a new camp and you– if something happened– I could lose you, too– Moonstar, I wouldn’t even know–” Fogfreckle breaks off on a hiccuping sob, voice losing its volume as it takes on a shaky quality and he ducks his head, hiding his pained expression from his sister.

Moonstar stares at her brother’s shaking shoulders. Guilt claws at her insides for the words she spat at her brother, the memory of her lost Clanmates sitting like a stone in her throat.

“Fogfreckle… I can handle myself,” Moonstar mews quietly. “I can handle both of us! Look at me,” she says, gesturing to herself with a sweep of her tail. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m fine! I’ve been hunting for us for moons and I’m fine. You’re the one that’s hurting, and I’m– you need to let me take care of you sometimes, too.”

After a heartbeat of silence, Fogfreckle mews with a wet, broken voice, “you’re an awful excuse for a hunter. But,” he adds, flicking his eyes towards her, “you’re a pretty good sister.”

A bubble of incredulous laughter escapes Moonstar before she can stop it. She can’t even be mad about the hunting bit – he’s right. She hopes he’s right about the sister part, too. She butts her head against her brother’s with a purr.

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Fogfreckle whispers.

“Where did you get that from? We protect each other. I’m sorry for fussing over you so much, just–” Moonstar releases a huff of breath and sits back heavily on her haunches. Her tail swishes the ground. She waits until Fogfreckle sits across from her with a shaky sigh. “I worry about you, too. It doesn’t make you any less brave to need help. I worry about you because I care about you– not because I think you can’t deal with it on your own. Not because I think you’re weak.” Fogfreckle’s mouth twists into a grimace as he casts his eyes to the side, avoiding Moonstar’s gaze. A weak smile lifts the corner of her muzzle. She’ll never get her brother to admit out loud how much stress he puts on himself trying to stay responsible for the both of them, but she knows now. She knows.

She pushes herself to her paws and gestures at Fogfreckle with her tail. “Well, we’re not getting any sleep now. You’re seriously up for hunting?”

Clearly relieved at being rescued from having to talk about his feelings in any further detail, Fogfreckle twists around to pull the remaining shreds of cobwebbing from his back. He licks his fur into place, carefully covering the freshly healed pink marks of where the eagle had sunk its talons into him. “I can hunt. It doesn’t even look that bad anymore, see?”

Moonstar smiles. Thank StarClan she doesn’t have to do a botch job wrapping him with fresh cobwebs anymore; she’s really not cut out for it. 

With a stretch, she pads from under the boulders, pleased beyond relief that they won’t have to spend another night under these suffocating press of rocks. “Let’s go hunting, then.”

///

Don't ever forget, We haven't lost it all, yet.

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moonstar boutta crash out after the last update

Moon 7

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“All that’s left to do is to find some more cobwebs for you, bring you water-soaked moss, catch us both something to eat…” Moonstar ticks each item off on her claws, recounting the list in her head for the sixth time since waking. She’s been going over it since the sun rose, making sure she won’t forget anything her brother may need while she’s out. “Are you feeling okay?” She asks, reaching a paw towards his cobweb-covered flank. “Does it hurt at a–”

Fogfreckle’s tail easily flicks up between them, blocking her paw. She leaves it hanging awkwardly in the air between them for a heartbeat, confused, unable to tell if he had done that on purpose or not. “Really getting into that leader mindset, huh?” Her brother mews, and though there’s a slight smile to his mouth, his words fall flat as they reach her ears.

On purpose, then.

Moonstar blinks at him, trying to remember where her thoughts had gone before they’d been so succinctly cut off. “I’ve got to stay on top of things with my deputy out of commission, yeah?” She mews lightly. Her neck fur prickles with unease as the smile drops fully from Fogfreckle’s face.

“Yeah.” His voice is painfully blank. He turns his muzzle away from her, as if the boulders crowding in around them are somehow more interesting to look at. “S’pose so.”

Moonstar fidgets from paw to paw, unsure of the sudden tension stifling the two cats in the crammed space. She runs through her mental list yet again, turning each item over in her head like smooth pebbles to see if any of the contents could have pricked at her brother in a way she hadn’t considered. Try as she might, she can’t figure out how the term ‘water-soaked moss’ would have been able to turn his mood sour.

“You’re being really brave about this,” Moonstar starts, switching tactics. Her brother is still staring blankly into the darkness, turned away from her. “Sticking it out through the pain like this. I know it must hurt.”

She reaches out a paw once again, intending to rest it against his flick, but his ears flick backwards and he pushes himself out of reach. Her paw drops, the confusion at his attitude starting to morph into a hurt that yanks at her like brambles.

“I’m not a kit anymore, Moonstar.”

“...Yeah, I know,” Moonstar mews slowly, feeling like she’s padding on thorns. “You’re– you’re my deputy! You’re–

“Could you just leave me alone?” Fogfreckle curls into a tight ball, wrapping his tail over his nose. His shoulders are sharp in the dim light that issues from the crawlspace entrance, the fur along the back of his neck spiky and agitated. Moonstar frowns at the shape of him in the gloom.

If he doesn’t want her emotional support, fine. She swallows down the ball of hurt that is lodged in her throat like a bird bone and lets it out with a rough sigh. Screw her for trying to be helpful. He can rot, for all she cares, as long as he stays here and stays out of trouble.

She stalks towards the entrance of their makeshift den, shoulders brushing the boulder above her. “I’ll go get your moss.”

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Moon 6

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Cold wind whistles through the rocks Moonstar and Fogfreckle are hunched under, bringing the crisp scents of first leaf-fall. With a shiver, Moonstar presses closer to Fogfreckle for warmth, but startles back as he lets out a pained hiss. She rests her gaze on her brother for a moment, eyeing the bristled, spiky fur of his pelt that sticks up around the cobwebs she did her best to wrap him with, stiff with dried blood.

The talon marks that are sunk into his back worry Moonstar. She wishes she had listened better when she was an apprentice, when their old medicine cat, Loudtalon, had been rambling on about herbs. She doesn’t want to try mixing a poultice for her brother in case she gets it wrong; she wouldn't even know where to begin. The most she can do is change his cobwebs when the blood starts to soak through and pray to StarClan that infection doesn’t set in.

She’s been doing her best to keep his wounds clean, but he’ll need new cobwebs soon. With a heavy sigh, she rises to her paws as much as the rocks crushing in around them will allow, her shoulders brushing the ceiling. Her ears have been pinned to her head for so long now that she thinks they may get stuck that way.

Moonstar moves towards Fogfreckle to give his ear an affectionate lick before she leaves, but he ducks away from her, wincing at the movement.

Moonstar halts and pulls back, chin wobbling.

Puffing her fur against the biting wind, unseasonable for this early in leaf-fall, she squeezes her way out of their makeshift den in search of three thing: cobwebs for her brother, fresh-kill for the both of them, and someplace they can finally call home.

With Fogfreckle injured, her search is limited.

Moonstar pads across the mountain, eyes sharp for the movement of prey but mind elsewhere. Before Fogfreckle was confined to his nest to heal from the eagle attack, they were constantly on the move. So far, they haven’t found anywhere that would make for a good camp. They’ve slept in abandoned dens, up in the branches of trees, tucked under scrubbly, thorny bushes – but a place big enough for two cats to sleep is nowhere near large enough for a camp.

They will rebuild NimbusClan. StarClan decreed it – StarClan chose her as leader. It has to be for something, she has to have something, some trait or destiny or something that StarClan can see that she can’t, or they wouldn’t have chosen her. Her stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought.

Her mind strays to worse thoughts, the sharp glide of golden wings slicing through the air a constant in her mind this past moon. She can’t shake how odd it was – sure, it’s not strange that a mother would want to protect her eggs – but the way it shifted its beady black glare from Moonstar to her brother seemed tainted with something more than just a mother’s protection.

With effort, she shakes the subject from her mind and sets to canvassing this section of mountain. She doesn’t want to stray too far from where Fogfreckle is, so she’s been going out in a different direction each day in the hopes she’ll find something suitable. Today, she pokes her head into a shaded clearing of pine trees, only to be met with the blinking eyes of several racoons peering through the needles – sniffs around the opening of a fox den that smells very clearly occupied (hurrying away as quickly and silently as her paws with allow) – and shrinks back into the shadows of a leafy bush when a pair of twolegs turn a corner onto a twolegtrail, speaking loudly in their foreign tongue and likely scaring away all the prey in the area.

She only manages to catch one meager mouse – but that’s fine, because it’s Fogfreckle’s favorite, and with a cobweb-coated twig cradled carefully between her teeth, she doesn’t think she’d be able to carry more than one piece of fresh-kill at the same time, anyways.

Fogfreckle stirs as she presses back into their den, her head angled awkwardly so she can get through with the stick clamped in her jaws. He glances at her as she pushes the mouse towards him, and then looks down at his paws as she sets to working clearing the old cobwebs from his fur. She tries to be gentle, but she’s no good at this medicine cat stuff. Fogfreckle grimaces the entire time and lets his mouse go cold, not sharing a single word with his sister as she rasps a tongue over his wounds, cleaning the dried blood from his fur.

Moonstar goes to sleep when she’s done, stomach rumbling, and tries not to cry.

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Interlude 5-6

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now who could this be

Moon 5 Part 4

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Fogfreckle’s body hits the ground hard, rolling halfway down the slope as Moonstar slides down after him, pebbles skidding out from under her paws as she rushes to his side.

“Fogfreckle?” Moonstar’s voice wavers as she reaches him in a spray of stones, hovering a scraped paw gently over his bleeding body as she hesitates. He’s just lying there, chest rising and falling shallowly, as blood oozes from thick punctures along his back that stains his pale fur red. Should she roll him over? What if his bones are broken? He’s not dead, by the grace of StarClan, but she’s no medicine cat – she has no idea how close he is to death or how much worse she’ll make it if she tries to move him.

The circling shadow of the eagle drifts over them with another ear-splitting, screeching cry, and Moonstar’s fear makes the decision for her. She grabs Fogfreckle by the scruff of the neck and begins to haul him farther down the slope. She doesn’t want to injure him more than he already is, but she knows it’ll be worse if they’re caught out here on the open mountainside once the larger predators in the area catch scent of his blood and come to investigate.

Fogfreckle doesn’t make a single nose of pain as she pulls him through the dirt. She drags him as far as a tumbled collection of boulders and stones, squeezing into a space between the rocks that is just big enough for Moonstar to fit her body through and drag Fogfreckle in after her. The space is tight, without a lot of room to move, and Moonstar has to swallow panic and bile as the walls seem to press in around them. 

“This is best,” she says aloud to herself, “foxes or fishers can’t reach us in here. It has to be here.” The self-soothing doesn’t do much to abate her claustrophobia, but Fogfreckle makes a pained noise in response to her voice and all thoughts of herself vacate her mind.

Fogfreckle whimpers as Moonstar licks his wounds clean, flinching as she clears dirt from the punctures with her rough tongue. She doesn’t say anything while she works, but she nearly sags in relief with every flinch and whimper from her brother. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s alive and he’s okay.

“Stay here,” she says at last when she’s cleaned most of the blood and debris from his fur. It’s still oozing sluggishly from his wounds, bright and wet. “I need to find cobwebs. Do you think you broke anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Fogfreckle murmurs, voice weak and faint with exhaustion. 

“Reckless,” Moonstar murmurs back, licking his forehead once. “Alright. Okay. Stay safe. Please, please, stay safe. I’ll get us help, okay? I’ll find someone to help.”

Moonstar scrambles out from under the claustrophobic press of rocks and pelts back up the mountain, swerving trees and boulders and leaping roots as she climbs higher and higher. Panic and grief strangles her thundering heart, pushing her to run faster and faster until her legs are burning. She reaches a break in the pines, a ledge buffeted by the wind, and yowls at the top of her lungs until her voice runs ragged.

“HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP! PLEASE! HELP!”

Her voice echoes back to her across the mountain, mimicking her fear. When it fades, there is only the sound of the mountain. Wind in her ears, the rustle of leaves in the trees, insects that hum in the sun. A sob escapes her, then a full blown wail, and her body collapses beneath her as the lack of response presses against her.

They are alone. At sunrise, she awoke as the leader of this clan, and at sundown she is so terribly, horribly, awfully alone.

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Moon 5 Part 3

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Live in the Northeastern USA and want to save endangered golden eagles? Visit this link to see what you can do to help, or donate here!

----

“The nose knows,” Moonstar boasts loftily as she follows the scent of bird over the crest of a cliff and into a nest large enough to easily fit her and her brother, who climbs up beside her a moment later.

“Ha! As if we couldn’t see this massive nest from halfway across the mountain before we even got up here,” Fogfreckle snorts, his eyes going wide as they land on the two cream colored eggs nestled together in the middle of the messy bundle of twigs and feathers. Light glints off of their speckled shells, gleaming in the Greenleaf sun. “Whoa, they’re huge! And look - one for each of us!”

“All thanks to my incomparable scenting skills,” Moonstar insists, muzzle curling up into a playfully smug expression that she knows will get under Fogfreckle’s pelt.

“Sure,” He grins back, expression going just as playful. There’s a teasing shine in his eyes. “Incomparably foxdu–”

Moonstar inhales loudly through her nose to press her point, inadvertently drawing a bit of loose, fluffy down towards her that sticks to her wet nose. Her eyes cross as she attempts to look down at it, rearing back a little in surprise. The down feather is tipped gold and sticks fast, following her as she pulls back.

Fogfreckle laughs, nearly falling backwards out of the nest. “You’ve got a little something,” he snickers, “to the left–”

A sharp, stuttered cry from above slices across the cliffside, silencing Fogfreckle mid sentence. The sound lances through Moonstar, freezing her heart.

Ears pinned back in terror, Moonstar flattens herself against the floor of the giant nest, squinting past the glare of the sun to see an eagle diving towards them. Moonstar spares a half-second glance at the eggs that were going to be her and Fogfreckle’s breakfast and thinks, briefly, mousedung. This must be a mother in fierce protection of her babies. Her feathers shine burning gold in the sunlight. 

They should have just rolled the eggs out of the nest and left - they shouldn’t have been joking around like this; like kits. She’s the leader, for StarClan’s sake - she should know better. She should have done better.

The width of the massive bird blots out the sun; a giant, winged shadow that dwarfs the two cats. Moonstar is frozen in fear, her mind all at once racing and yet painfully blank. She doesn’t know what to do, there’s too many things to do, too many plans of action, and she can’t make herself move to act on any of them. Fogfreckle is stiff against her side.

As the eagle dives closer, she can see the slanted amber of its furious eyes. Quite suddenly, as Moonstar is bracing for impact, the eagle takes a bank left, predatory gaze shifting to her brother, extends its talons, and descends upon him in a frenzy of flapping feathers and unholy screeching.

Fear and rage at last boiling over inside of her, Moonstar’s muscles unfreeze and allow her to launch into action, screeching at the bird and slashing at it in an attempt to shoo it away from Fogfreckle. Blood thunders in her ears, the cacophony of Fogfreckle’s hissing shrieks and the bird’s cries sharp against her eardrums. She can't tell if her blows are even landing, or if Fogfreckle is holding his own. The giant bird's wings are everywhere, battering against her face and throwing up loose feathers and down from the nest that cloud the air.

Fogfreckle yowls as the bird sinks sharp claws into his back, and lifts his writhing, twisting body into the sky with powerful strokes of her wings. Moonstar jumps after the bird, horrified, screaming for her brother, but her outstretched claws don’t reach. She lands in the nest, hard, twigs snapping under her weight, and watches in open mouthed horror as the bird lifts her brother higher in the sky.

He twists in her grasp, a furious scream ripping from his throat, and slashes his claws along her belly. The eagle shrieks in pain and releases Fogfreckle, who falls, and falls, and falls.

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Happy Valentine's Day! 💖

I drew some of my fave clangen ships! Most of these aren't canon (yet? 🥹) because I love yearning and misery, obviously

Rivercall and Goldrun from @castaway-clan - they live rent free in my head all the time forever. why is Goldrun falling asleep on Rivercall? Who knows but I'm sure the man could use a nap

Larchmask and Lightchaser from @tidalclan - I JUST THINK THEY'D BE SO CUTE OKAY

Erminepaw and Songpaw from @loudclan-clangen - when do they get to be happy

Updated the refs for our now-adult MCs!

Moonstar: A pale tabby she-cat, eyes of sunlit ice, medium fur length. Nervous, steady paws. 13m old.

Fogfreckle: A white, unusually spotted (rosette) pale gray tom, cobalt eyes, medium fur length. Daring, good mediator, den builder. 13m old.

Moon 5 Part 2

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Moonstar gasps awake, sitting up so fast she rams her head into the thick underside of a low-hanging branch that she and her brother had spent the night taking turns sleeping under. They’ve been doing that, taking turns – who knows what things are lurking out here in the dark, so far from home.

If they can't go back, does it still count as home? 

“Ow…” Moonstar groans, a sharp throb pounding against her skull. What a way to start the morning.

Fogfreckle ducks his head underneath one of the branches, sweeping past the leaves to gaze curiously at his sister. He tilts his head questioningly, mouth open to ask what’s wrong, when the words die on his tongue and his eyes widen.

“Fogfreckle!” Moonstar mews excitedly, leaping to her paws. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

“Your– your forehead,” Fogfreckle croaks. “You… were visited by StarClan?”

“What about my forehead?” Moonstar asks, confused and distracted. She presses a paw against her head to see if perhaps she’s bleeding, but her paw doesn’t come away warm or wet. The rest of her brother’s words filter to her slowly through the dull throb of pain and the fog of the early hour. She pouts. “Yeah, Star– how did you guess so quick?”

“There’s– your forehead. You have a star. A leader’s star.”

Moonstar’s pout deepens. “Well. That kind of steals my thunder.”

“Moonpool, what happened?”

“Moonstar now, actually.” Moonstar grins. “StarClan visited me in my dreams and granted me my nine lives. Isn’t that crazy? I didn’t even have to– there was no–” Moonstar’s tongue can hardly keep up with everything that’s swirling in her brain, the experience of her leader’s ceremony playing back to her as if memory and not just dream. “NimbusClan lives on, Fogfreckle. In us, just like you said. We’re to lead NimbusClan into its new future.”

“‘We’?” Fogfreckle asks weakly, jaw slack with disbelief.

“Of course, ‘we’!” Moonstar laughs, bounding closer to her brother. She feels so full of life, coursing through her like the widest, wildest river. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you, you know that. Besides, what’s a leader without her deputy?”

“Deputy?” Fogfreckle repeats, dumbstruck.

“What are you, a raven?” Moonstar laughs. “Yes, deputy! As leader, I’m appointing you as deputy of NimbusClan, Fogfreckle.”

Fogfreckle swells with pride, pale chest fluffed out as he inhales a shaky breath. “I– yes, Moonstar. Thank you.”

“Don’t get all formal on me, now. You’re my brother first, deputy second.”

“So, we really are still a Clan.” He grins, then the expression fades from his face somewhat. His eyes take on an earnest shine. “Did you… I know you’re not supposed to talk about the ceremony, but… when you visited StarClan, did you… did you see our parents?”

Moonstar smiles gently, heart squeezing painfully in her chest. Dad had told her to tell Fogfreckle that their parents miss him, too, so surely StarClan won’t be displeased if she shares just that much? “Yes. I saw them. Mom and Dad. They told me to tell you they miss you.”

Fogfreckle hiccups, stepping close to push his head hard against Moonstar’s.

“I wish you could have seen them too,” She adds in a whisper, nuzzling into his dawn-warmed fur. The sun is just starting to crest the side of the mountain on its way up, crawling lazily into the sky. Greenleaf heat creeps on silent, soft paws across her pelt. It’ll be humid later, but for now, it’s pleasant.

“Maybe they’ll walk in my dreams one day, too.”

“I hope so.” Moonstar presses one more smile into his fur and then pulls back, squaring her shoulders in what she hopes is a leaderly fashion. It’s only her brother, but she may as well start getting used to playing the role. “Alright, deputy. What’s our first order of business?”

Fogfreckle grins. “How about breakfast? I could go for some eggs.”

“Perfect idea.”

Both cats stretch out their paws and take off, bounding up the mountain.

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Moon 5 Part 1

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When Moonpool opens her eyes, she’s momentarily blinded by how bright everything is.

Shielding her eyes with a paw, she squints at her surroundings, then gasps. The rudimentary, half scraped together den of moss she fell asleep in underneath the wide, low branch of a tree on the mountainside is gone. Instead, there are stars everywhere.

They’re close enough that she could reach out and bat them around with her paws. Quite suddenly, she’s overcome with a kit-like desire to do just that. Pounce on a nearby star, wrestle it to the ground, and toss it with her back feet. A rush of giddiness sweeps through her as she looks around, stars as far as the eye can see and misty, snow-white clouds that swirl around her paws.

Against the raven-black backdrop of the sky, a collection of stars just beyond her reach takes shape, coalescing into the form of a young kitten. Moonpool gapes, staring in shock as the cat fully comes to be, bounding towards her with bouncing steps and a pelt sprinkled with starlight.

“...Condorkit?”

“Hi, Moonpaw!” The starry kit grins, her pelt as dark as the sky. Even with starlight streaking her fur and her eyes aglow with moonlight, there’s no mistaking it. This is Condorkit! “Or, Moonpool now, right? I’ve missed playing moss ball with you. You were the best moss ball player.”

“I… I haven’t seen you since before the camp caved in.” Moonpool’s voice cracks, a sudden swell of grief slashing through her chest as she looks down upon Condorkit’s shining, smiling face. If this is another one of Moonpool’s nightmares, it’s almost worse than the ones where she fails to warn her Clan again, and again, and again.

“Let’s stay focused, Condorkit,” A deeper voice mews, cutting through Moonpool’s maudlin thoughts, another constellation of stars taking shape.

“Dad!” Moonpool cries, rushing forward to bonk her head with his, relieved to find it solid against her own.

Cliffstripe mrrps with laughter, the sound of it rumbling through his throat as he nuzzles against his daughter’s head. “I’ve missed you, darling. It’s so lovely to see you again.”

“What’s going on?” Moonpool pulls back, looking between the two starry cats with confusion. “Why can I see you? Am I dreaming?”

“It’s your leader ceremony!” Condorkit chirps. “We’re here to give you your nine lives!”

“My–?”

More and more cats begin to take shape behind the two already present, Clan members Moonpool knew in life and some she doesn’t recognize. Seeming to melt straight out of the sky, Pitchstar steps forward to the front, his presence commanding in the lithe stretch of muscle under his panther-like pelt. Hovering just in front of his forehead is a star so bright, Moonpool feels almost as though she may have to shield her eyes again.

“Indeed it is,” Pitchstar mews smoothly, a pleased smile gracing a muzzle gray with age. He stands delicately before Moonpool, front paws together as he regards her.

“But I didn’t… I didn’t commune with StarClan on purpose,” Moonpool says in a rush. “I– there’s not even a clan to lead.”

“We will always be available to you in your time of need, Moonpool. StarClan is with you always. It is time for you to lead NimbusClan into a new future.”

“Me first!” Condorkit yowls, knocking into Pitchstar’s legs as she bounds forward to stand on wobbly hind legs in front of Moonpool. A smile twitches the corner of Moonpool’s muzzle. She’s going to miss her Clan even more fiercely when she wakes. “Me first. Okay. I’m giving you your first life for tireless energy.”

A gasp punches out of Moonpool’s throat as Condorkit touches her nose to Moonpool’s forehead, a sense of vitality surging within her and burning all the way out to her claws and the tip of her tail. It… it hurts, the surge of energy, and she finds herself gritting her teeth as Condorkit grins as she drops back to all four paws, turning tail and bouncing back into the group of assembled StarClan cats.

Next, Cliffstripe and Frostcrest pad forward.

“Mom,” Moonpool mews, voice choked with emotion as the burning pain recedes, leaving her paws tingling, “dad.” She butts her head against each of theirs, brushing her pale pelt between their starry ones. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know that I’m meant to lead.”

“Sometimes,” her mother begins, voice gentle, “these responsibilities are thrust upon us, and it is wiser to let the river carry you than to fight it upstream.” Frostcrest smiles at her. There’s a slight bow to her eyebrows, something in her expression that Moonpool recognizes as worry, but Frostcrest continues before Moonpool can ask her what’s wrong. “You will be an amazing leader, kit. Stay true to you. Your Clan needs you now. I give you this life for confidence.”

“And I, a life for mercy. Tell your brother that we miss him, too,” Cliffstripe adds, and both of Moonpool’s parents lean forward to press their noses to her forehead. She braces against the rush this time as it surges through her, an alternating sensation of warm and cool, feeling as though it could lift her off of her paws.

Froststripe gives her one last lick to her shoulder, eyes sad but muzzle smiling as she turns with Cliffstripe and walks back into the crowd of cats.

Another kit bounds forward, a brown tabby with eyes that glow with ethereal light.

“Whisperkit,” Moonpool greets warmly, bending to speak with him face to face.

“Never give up, okay?” The seriousness in Whisperkit’s quiet tone is almost enough to make Moonpool chuckle, if the circumstances were different. If Whisperkit were still alive. “I give you this life for hope.”

Loudtalon, NimbusClan’s medicine cat, pads forward. “You’ve always been smart, Moonpool. Keep it up. I give you this life for wisdom.”

“If you weren’t fit to be leader, you wouldn’t have made it this far,” Pebblespore, the deputy, assures. “I give you this life for certainty.”

Currentpaw swaggers from the crowd, grinning at Moonpool. She used to be bigger than Moonpool, in life. Now, Moonpool is tall enough to look down at her. Friendly challenge is bright in her ghostly eyes. “You never could beat me in our sparring sessions, but I bet you’d be able to now. Keep practicing, so you can always keep your clan safe. I give you this life for strength.”

Finally, Pitchstar steps forward, his black pelt almost indistinguishable from the night sky surrounding them. There is pride in his gaze as he stares unwaveringly into Moonpool’s eyes, and something more. Something indecipherable. “You will make a fine leader, Moonstar. I would choose no other cat to follow in my pawsteps. NimbusClan is yours, now. I will ensure that you succeed.”

A shiver works its way through Moonpool’s fur, despite the lack of sensation up here above the clouds. With a start, she realizes she’s not cold, nor warm. There is no wind that ruffles her fur, no firm ground beneath her paws. She is snared by Pitchstar’s eyes, inches from her own, intense and otherworldly.

“I give you this life for protection.” He presses his black nose to her head, a sudden, violent burst of pain twisting through her that feels like she’s run full speed into a rock wall, then turns with the swish of a long tail. Moonpool stares at his retreating back. The pain fades and she feels full of vibrant energy, near to bursting.

She’s just beginning to wonder how she’s supposed to get back to her living body, back to her brother, when her thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of another cat. “You are not done yet. You have one more life left to receive.” Moonpool doesn’t recognize this cat. They’re dark-furred, with a ticked pelt and naked, scarred paws. “I am Oddghost, one of NimbusClan’s prior medicine cats, long before your time. You will face many challenges, Moonpool. Walk always in the path of StarClan, with your brother at your side. Believe not just in your ancestors, but in your own power. In the power of your Clanmates. You are only as strong as your Clan. I grant you your final life for faith.”

Moonpool’s final life surges into her, seeping through her body with such strength her vision whites out, the starry cats in front of her fading from view.

“Lead NimbusClan well, Moonstar.”

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I wanted to do something silly for Opposite Day, so I drew the siblings doing my Twoleg job!

For @cutieclangen's DTIYS! This was sooo much fun, all the curly fur was was such a blast to draw.

Totally not expecting a drawing in return, but I would absolutely love to see my girl Moonpool in your style 🫶

Moon 4

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Happy New Year!

///

“We would've had our warrior ceremony by now.”

Fogpaw groans at his sister, pushing past her as they climb higher up the mountain, paws farther from their territory than they've ever been. The terrain and the scents are unfamiliar and the rock is hot under their paws, baking in the greenleaf sun. They can’t go back, so they press on. “Don't start with that. I'm not in the mood for reminiscing right now.”

“No, no, listen to me.” Moonpaw bounds ahead of her brother, cutting him off and leaping atop a large rock. She puffs her chest out, head held high. “It's been twelve moons since our kitting, right? That means we should have our warrior ceremonies.”

Fogpaw eyes her dubiously, but Moonpaw spies the small smile that creeps across his muzzle. She grins, feeling flush with victory.

“What do you think Pitchstar would’ve chosen for our warrior names?”

“Why don't we pick them ourselves?” Moonpaw’s tail wags playfully. Fun and ceremony like this feels sorely needed after their long, lonesome travel. It's been four moons since their camp caved in and the two of them were forced to head out on their own. It's about time they have some fun. “I'll pick a name and you can name me,” Moonpaw says, patting the rock she stands atop with a paw, “and then we swap – I'll give you the name you pick.”

“Okay,” Fogpaw laughs. “I want to do yours first. What's your warrior name going to be?”

“Moonpool.”

“You didn't even have to think about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Moonpaw says, and it’s true, she has. She’s had a long, boring few moons to mull it over in her mind. “Okay, swap with me, give me my name!”

Laughing, the apprentices trade places, Moonpaw hopping down from the rock so Fogpaw can scramble atop it and look down at his sister.

“I, Fogpaw of NimbusClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon– what're the words?”

Moonpaw rolls her eyes. He should have let her go first. “Look down on this apprentice,” Moonpaw recites easily. She's been looking forward to this since her nursery days. It’s not anything like how she dreamed it would be, but having Fogpaw smiling down at her makes the unorthodox celebration worth it. “They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn.”

“Wow, you seriously have that memorized?”

Moonpaw carries on, ignoring him. “Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“Well, do you?” Fogpaw leans down on the rock, gesturing to Moonpaw.

Emotion swells in Moonpaw’s chest. “I do.”

Fogpaw smiles warmly at her and sits upright. “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Moonpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Moonpool.” Fogpaw cocks his head at her, a considering expression on his face. “StarClan honors you for your judgment. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.”

Fogpaw leaps down from the rock to rest his muzzle atop Moonpool's head and she licks his shoulder in turn, eyes misty with emotion.

“Thank you,” She whispers when he pulls back.

He grins at her. “Don't get sappy just yet, you have to do mine now!”

“Right, right, okay.” Moonpool hops up onto the rock, the greenleaf sun warming her shoulder blades. “Did you think of a name?”

Fogpaw's eyebrows draw down in thought. “Hmm…”

“How about Fogfreckle?” Moonpool suggests, pointing at him with her tail. “On account of your markings?”

He looks over his shoulder at his dappled pelt. “Okay. Yeah, I like it.” He turns back to smile up at her. “Fogfreckle it is.”

Moonpool grins, then draws in a deep breath and recites the ceremonial words once more.

“By the powers of StarClan, I grant you your warrior name. Fogpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Fogfreckle.” She watches as Fogfreckle swells with determination. Her eyes shine, and she continues without hesitation. “StarClan honors your courage. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.”

She hops down to rest her muzzle atop Fogfreckle's head, and then both cats tip their heads back and bellow across the mountain.

“Moonpool! Fogfreckle! Moonpool! Fogfreckle!”

Filled to the brim with excitement and ceremony, the pair of them chase each other around the mountain, laughing and leaping at each other and wrestling across the warm ground.

“So, are we going to stand vigil?” Fogfreckle asks, panting with exertion from their play fight.

“Stand vigil where? We don't have a camp to guard.”

“Wherever we find to sleep tonight,” Fogfreckle shrugs, a smooth roll of his shoulders under sun-warmed fur. “We can take turns, like with the names. I'll guard you first, and then you can guard me. We're warriors of NimbusClan, and we protect each other.”

Moonpool smiles at him, having to fight back the beginning prickle of emotion behind her eyes. “Pitchstar would be proud of you, you know. Not only as your mentor, but as leader.”

Fogfreckle grins at her. “You basically mentored me the rest of the way.”

“Me?” Moonpool is surprised, her eyes widening. “Hardly! You didn't need any of my help,” she laughs.

“I learned a lot from you. I'm still the better hunter,” he adds without an ounce of modesty, and Moonpool laughs and throws her shoulder against his, “but I don't think I could've done this without you by my side. You’re… I really look to you for guidance. I probably would've been killed by those cats if you hadn't come to rescue me on the border that day. You're more… you think first, which I’ll admit I don’t always do. You'd make a good leader, I think.”

Moonpool is shocked, embarrassed, but nonetheless pleased. “Come on. I got scared by a mouse earlier. That's hardly leadership material.”

Fogfreckle shrugs, but he's smiling. “Leaders can always use a bit of humility. Either way, you'll make a great warrior, Moonpool.” His smile turns teasing. “Especially with me by your side.”

She knocks her head against his affectionately and then races up the mountain, calling after him to chase her.

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Interlude 3-4

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no but really how do cobwebs work

Moon 3, Part 2

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Without a second of hesitation, Moonpaw takes off over the mountain, mouth open to follow Fogpaw’s scent as her paws fly over the rocks. Her legs are screaming, but adrenaline overpowers her exhaustion.

“Fogpaw?” She yowls. “Fogpaw!”

“I’m here.” Fogpaw’s voice sounds from somewhere nearby, strained but blessedly alive. Moonpaw turns in the direction of the sound and darts around the edge of an outcropping of rock, freezing as the sour scent of blood fills her nostrils.

“Fogpaw?”

“I told you, I’m right here,” He hisses. He’s half on the ground, struggling to pull himself to his paws, so Moonpaw goes to press her body to his to help him up. His pale fur is stained and streaked with blood from long gashes that mar his flank and there are clumps of fur stuck between his claws.

“What happened to you?” Moonpaw is terrified. The scent of blood reminds her of her last night at home and she struggles not to gag. “It smells like other cats.”

“It was other cats,” he spits, leaning heavily on her as she guides them back towards where she first spotted the rabbit. He limps, wincing with each step. “Remember those cats we met up with at the border? They’re using our hunting grounds.” Fogpaw’s voice shakes with anger. “I confronted them, but they said we don’t have a clan anymore which means that the territory is theirs. They said that if I tried to stop them, they’d make me pay. Well,” he laughs humorlessly, “I tried, but there were too many of them. I’m lucky that what little honor they have left was enough to stop them from killing me.”

Thank StarClan. She can’t lose her brother, too. He’s the only thing she has left. “You’re too reckless,” Moonpaw scolds. Fogpaw’s muzzle twists into a scowl, but he doesn’t deny it. “We have to leave, Fogpaw. We need to find somewhere new. We can rebuild NimbusClan, but it can’t be here.”

He looks at her, his eyes going wide and round. Slowly, a determined sheen comes over them. “Alright. Lead the way, Moonpaw.”

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Moon 3, Part 1

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“Stop breathing on me.”

“I’m not anywhere near you, Fogpaw.”

“You are, because you’re close enough to be breathing on me.”

StarClan help her.

“What’s your problem?” Moonpaw asks, unable to keep claws of exasperation from sharpening her voice. She’s not anywhere near him. They’ve been walking side by side for ages, up this horrible, hot mountain to the highest edge of their territory, under the horrible, blazing sun, and only now he’s going to fuss that she’s been beside him this entire time?

“What’s your problem?” He mocks in a poor imitation of Moonpaw’s meow, sticking his tongue out at the end of his sentence. 

Moonpaw scoffs. The fur along her back is so warm it feels as though it’s been set aflame under the full force of the greenleaf sun, and her paws ache with the near-vertical climb up harsh ground. Short on patience, she lifts a paw and bats Fogpaw with it. He should consider himself lucky she kept her claws sheathed.

Fogpaw whirls on her, astonished and angry, and whaps her with a paw of his own. Her ears flatten and her fur bristles as she rears back, tail fluffed up to twice its size.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

“You hit me first!”

“Because you’re being an idiot!”

“Well, if you would stop stepping all over me–”

“FINE!” Moonpaw screeches. A few songbirds lift from the sparse trees that cling to the cliffside, startled. “If I’m just so in your way, I’ll get out of your fur!”

“GOOD!” Fogpaw yowls back. “I’m going hunting by myself!”

Fogpaw stomps off and Moonpaw hisses at his retreating back, her own arched and angry. What is he being such a mouse-brain for? She whips around, intending to get her emotions out by sinking her claws into something, but her head is too cloudy with anger to focus on the scents surrounding her. It doesn’t help any that somebody had her training cut short because her mentor got buried under a pile of boulders.

Angry tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, she crouches down in defeat. She can’t do this. She can’t do this – pretending that everything is fine, walking in some random direction and hoping for a miracle. She’s walked every inch of this territory since her earliest apprentice days. The best place for a camp was drowned in rocks and rubble. They’re not going to find another one.

Despair sinks quick claws into her chest, overwhelms her with the thought, I wish StarClan had buried me, too.

A sharp blur of color speeds past her. Pupils dilating, her despair fades to the back of her mind as she hones in on a rabbit that’s sped by and settled several fox-lengths away, sniffing and nibbling at some grass that’s struggling to grow through the cracks in the rock.

She flexes her claws against the rough ground. Catching a juicy piece of fresh-kill is the best kind of therapy. 

Dropping into a hunter’s crouch, she drags her belly slowly over the mountain as she creeps up on the rabbit, closing the distance between them to a few tail-lengths. The wind is in her favor, and the rabbit hasn’t spotted her yet.

An ear-splitting yowl cuts through the air. The rabbit’s ears go up, eyes round and frightened, and it bounds away. Alarmed, Moonpaw’s ears also fly up, head swiveling in the direction of the noise.

Fogpaw.

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I always feel like I am not alone I hear a voice that tells me where to go

THANK YOU ALL SOOOOO SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!!!

This is beyond incredible to me. I just recently passed the first month anniversary of this comic, and there's already a hundred of you here?! That is so special to me, thank you all for following Moonpaw and Fogpaw on their journey. 💖

Belated reference for daddy-o

Cliffstripe (dead): Tom, adult, eyes of sunlit ice, masked, medium fur. Warrior, formerly mentored Moonpaw. Careful, good swimmer, good teacher. Father of Fogpaw and Moonpaw. 91m (in life).

I wanted to pay homage to a handful of the blogs that inspire me, so I drew my favorite cats from each!

I didn't realize how many white/gray cats were my favs 'til I started coloring this... I guess I have a type. It was really fun to color this, though - it really expresses how different all of their coats are!

I DID realize that many of my favorites are the nonverbal and/or stoic ones, lmao.

This was so much fun for me! It was a great opportunity to play around with shapes and faces and appearances. I'll definitely do this again in the future!

In order of appearance:

Rivercall, from @castaway-clan

Puddle, from @sporeclan

Cranedance, from @chasing-faith-and-fate

Erminepaw, from @loudclan-clangen

Sharktail, from @rookclan

and Milkfur, from @ranchclan

If you're tagged in this and you don't want to be, shoot me a message and I'll untag you!

Interlude 2-3

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Aw, one big happy famil-- oh, no. oh, wait,

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Moon 2

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“Moonpaw, wake up. We have to keep moving. Moonpaw.” 

Moonpaw mrrps in sleepy protest as she's jostled awake by her brother's paw digging insistently into her shoulder. She cracks one bleary eye open, momentarily disoriented by her surroundings. 

Right. They’re not at home. They don't have a home.

She stands, stiff from sleeping on bark, her muscles protesting as she arches her back and stretches her legs. The sun that slots into their log from an opening at the top paints the inside in streaks of rich reds and browns, so different from the cool, smooth stone she’s used to waking up to. She misses her moss nest fiercely in that moment, the weight of her grief threatening to overwhelm her, but she forces the feeling away with a shake of her head. There is no comfortable, warm nest for her to return to. Not now, not ever, and she needs to move on.

“Coming,” she mumbles sleepily, rubbing a paw against her eyes as Fogpaw turns and ducks out of the log. “How'd you sleep?” She stumbles out into the sunlight and shivers in the weak, earling morning newleaf air.

“I've certainly slept better,” Fogpaw mews, licking a paw and drawing it over one of his ears. “Best not to dwell on it. Breakfast first.”

Moonpaw nods, padding after Fogpaw as he weaves through the sparse mountain pines. She opens her mouth, scenting for prey, and sets her ears on a swivel to better hone in on the skittering of small paws through the bed of fallen pine needles that soften the cats' footfalls.

The breeze drifts the scent of mouse towards Moonpaw and her tail flicks up in excitement. She shoots a look Fogpaw's way and he nods and veers off in another direction, allowing her this hunt to chase his own prey.

Creeping forward, the words of her former mentor rings in her ears. Keep your paws light. Even so much as a scattered pebble will alert your catch to your presence. She never was able to complete her training and earn her warrior name, she thinks with a pang, but files that sadness away for later. She has enough information to know how to hunt, and she and Fogpaw will have plenty of time to practice now.

The mouse she's stalking shows itself, leaping onto the root of a tree, little whiskers twitching. Moonpaw waggles her haunches, preparing to launch herself at it, but as she leaps she slips on the loose pine needles underfoot and falls short of her catch. The mouse darts away and she lunges forward, hoping to snag it with a claw as it escapes, but it's too far from her outstretched paws and disappears into a hole in the ground.

“Star-damned trees,” Moonpaw growls to herself and sits back with a huff, her tail tip twitching. “Hunting on the mountain was so much easier.”

Prey continues to evade her for the rest of the afternoon. Squirrels run up trees, voles dive for cover under the leaf litter, and one particularly annoying chase after a songbird ends with Moonpaw landing in a puddle of mud.

She screeches with disgust, the bird long gone, and drags herself out of the mud to shake her fur. Her nose wrinkles in disgust at the state of her pelt. This is going to take ages to clean out of her white fur. Hopefully, Fogpaw is faring better with his hunt.

She follows her brother's scent trail to find him laden with mice, pawfuls of them at his feet. As he glances up and makes eye contact with her, the corner of his muzzle ticks up in amusement. “Rough hunt?”

“Do. Not,” Moonpaw huffs, eyeing his sleek, clean coat enviously. She drops herself next to him in a patch of sunlight and begins to groom her coat. Between mouthfuls of fur, she says, “we need to find someplace else on the territory to stay. This is no place for a mountain cat to settle.” She darts a pointed look at his small mountain of prey. “Except for you, maybe.”

Fogpaw mrrps a laugh and pushes a mouse towards her. “You can have some. I caught plenty.” He settles onto his paws and helps Moonpaw clear the mud from her fur. “I agree, though. I think we should look around the rockier places of our territory until we find a place that could work as a new camp.”

“A whole camp?” Moonpaw says doubtfully, tongue paused in her grooming. “I could settle for a couple of safe hollows in a rock. What do we need a whole camp for?”

“Rebuilding NimbusClan, of course.”

“Oh, Fogpaw–”

“No, Moon, seriously. I don't want to spend the rest of our days as rogues. I want–” he falters, eyeing her hesitantly before continuing. “I've always wanted a family, one like ours. Mom and Dad and us, it just… made me so happy, you know? I want that for myself one day.” He casts his eyes away from her, his shoulders hiking up around his ears, and Moonpaw knows he’s fighting back tears.

Moonpaw smiles gently at Fogpaw, her own eyes misting a little. “It made me happy too, Fogpaw. Makes me happy. They're watching over us in StarClan, I'm sure of it.” She curls her tail reassuringly over his back. 

“I'm sure they are,” He murmurs, resting his head against hers. “I miss them.”

“I miss them, too.”

They sit that way for a while, purring softly with each other as the newleaf breeze plays over their fur. Eventually, they tuck into the mice Fogpaw caught, and then curl together to take a nap in the sunshine.

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---

(Okay so yes I know moons are months and so far the timeline of the fic portions doesn’t exactly line up with that, but bear with me for the sake of storytelling purposes)

My favorite panel sketch from the upcoming moon, before I ruin it with lineart

Moon 1

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As the two cats climb the slope away from everything they’ve ever known, Moonpaw sends a fervent prayer to StarClan as thanks for sparing her brother.

She watches the strong shape of his shoulders as they move under his pelt, carrying him up the mountain, the swish of his tail as it guides her forward, and knows that without him, she’d have lain down in that cave and let the darkness have her. Without her clan – without her brother – she’s nothing.

With only the moonlight and twinkling Silverpelt to guide them forward, the mountain seems ominous and threatening in the dark. Outcroppings of rock throw insidious shadows over them, spires of stone stab high into the sky and curve like the talons of an eagle. Fogpaw lowers his nose to a scraggly shrub that clings stubbornly to the unforgiving landscape and adjusts his course for the border of their territory. Moonpaw slinks after him, head low and ears flattened nervously against her skull.

She scents it before she sees it, the border with their neighboring clan strong with the scents of foreign cats. “We’re here,” Fogpaw murmurs, brushing a comforting tail over Moonpaw’s back before stepping forward, claw-tips straddling the edge of the scent-marks denoting the line between territories as he lifts his head and caterwauls into the night.

After the sound of his announcement fades across the mountainside, he turns to look back at Moonpaw, his cobalt eyes round and unsure. The line of his body is bold, his tail and head held high, but Moonpaw has grown beside him since their nursery days. She knows that he’s nervous, even if he’s not showing it outright. His eyes shine with apprehension.

Just then, a clatter of pebbles alerts the pair of them to movement on the other side of the border. Moonpaw presses herself to Fogpaw’s flank, body tense, as the shadows melt away to reveal three neighboring patrol cats, alerted by Fogpaw’s yowl.

“What is your business at our border so late at night?” The largest of the cats spits, unkindly, flanked by the other two of his clan members. His eyes flit between the two siblings, sizing them up with an unimpressed frown.

“Our home has been destroyed, and our clan with it,” Fogpaw explains. Moonpaw feels unsteady under the wary gaze of the other cats and wants to sink her claws into the rock beneath her pads for a sense of balance, but refrains, not wanting the action to be interpreted as a threat. “We ask that you welcome us into your clan. We’re only apprentices.”

The large cat bursts into laughter, his voice rough and mocking. The two cats beside him snicker, the three of them exchanging amused glances.

“As if we’re going to accept you scrawny rejects into our clan,” the large cat continues to laugh, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight as he grins. “You’re no more than rogues now, if what you say is true. We don’t take in rogues.”

“You better scram, before we make you,” one of the other cats says. His muscles are thick, bulging under his pelt, and Moonpaw hasn’t had nearly enough battle training in the scant few moons she’s been an apprentice to feel ready for a confrontration. Even if she felt as though she could take on this single cat should she need to, they’re outnumbered. “We don’t take kindly to rogues trespassing on our territory.”

Fogpaw scoffs, affronted, and Moonpaw’s fur spikes along her back, a lightning bolt of fear racing down her spine. “We’re not on your territory,” Fogpaw spits, gesturing between each of their groups. “We’re still on our side of the border.”

“You don’t have a clan anymore,” the third cat jeers. “What border?”

Fogpaw bristles, tail lashing furiously, and the other cats get to their paws like they’re ready to make true on their threat to run them off. “Fogpaw,” Moonpaw murmurs, brushing her tail along his side. “Let’s not do this. We should leave.”

Fogpaw spares the other cats one last, angered look, and then turns tail and stalks away, calling for Moonpaw to follow. The mean laughter of the clan cats echoes behind them as they turn the corner and head down a slope that hugs the mountainside, loose pebbles clattering away under their paws as they make their way down.

Rogues. Moonpaw shivers, hastening her step to keep up with Fogpaw’s furious pace. “What are we going to do now, Fogpaw?” Moonpaw asks, anxious. “We don’t have a clan anymore.”

“We are the clan,” Fogpaw reminds her. “We are NimbusClan. And what we’re going to do right now is hunt, because I’m starving and we need to keep our strength up.”

What about the Warrior Code? Moonpaw thinks to herself, padding after Fogpaw as the terrain levels out and they find themselves in a sparsely wooded clearing she’d only passed through a couple times when out with her mentor. Will StarClan punish them if they eat outside of the camp? 

They’re the only two cats left, so StarClan surely will understand their need. There are no other cats to bring fresh-kill back to. Moonpaw settles into a crouch at the base of a tree, tucked between the roots as Fogpaw slinks behind a bush and scents the air for prey. Exhausted, hungry, and grieving, Moonpaw doesn’t have the energy to hunt right now, so she watches her brother flick the tip of his tail as he stalks across the ground, the light of the moon that filters through the sparse trees flickering against his dappled pelt.

Fogpaw works hard to catch them dinner, chasing a squirrel halfway up a tree and just managing to sink his teeth into its tail. It shrieks an alarm call into the quiet of the night, but Fogpaw pulls it from the tree with a hard tug and lands nimbly on the ground, giving it a swift bite to the neck to silence its cries. He drags the fresh-kill over to where Moonpaw crouches and noses it towards her.

When she doesn’t eat immediately, eyeing him with worry, he shrugs and tucks his paws under himself. “You eat first. Everything that’s happened this evening has given me a stomachache.”

Moonpaw drapes her tail sympathetically over her brother and tears the squirrel into equal portions for them, pushing Fogpaw’s share towards him. “You said it yourself, we have to keep our strength up. Eat at least a little.”

He flashes her a small, quick smile and digs in, the two cats pressed side by side as they eat. Disposing of the remains of their meal so as not to attract any scavengers, Moonpaw spots a hollowed out log for them to spend the rest of the night in that shelters them from the mountain winds. It’s nothing at all like her nest back home, the bark hard and cold beneath her pelt, but it’s safe for now and at the very least, she has the comfort of her brother’s warm body pressed up against hers to help lull her to sleep.

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Refs for the recently introduced StarClan cats!

Pitchstar (dead): Tom, senior, bronze eyes, rosette pattern, short fur. Leader, formerly apprenticed Fogpaw. Charismatic, good speaker, clever. 147m (in life).

Frostcrest (dead): She-cat, adult, copper eyes, sokoke coat, short fur. Warrior, loyal, good kitsitter. Mother of Moonpaw and Fogpaw. 70m (in life).

Interlude 0-1

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Swirling clouds encircle the summit of Star Reach, stirred as if by a breeze.

No wind blows here in StarClan. Frostcrest settles delicately beside the leader she had in life, curling her tail neatly over her paws.

“She’s hardly more than a kit, Pitchstar.”

“Moonpaw will not fall,” The old, dark bengal replies. His eyes are fixed unwaveringly on the churning, writhing clouds below him. Frostcrest’s gaze drifts to it. A blurry, rippled image of her son floats amidst the mist. He pads along a mountain trail, unaware that the eyes of StarClan are upon him. 

Frostcrest’s face twitches, her whiskers tightening. 

“After all,” Pitchstar continues, “she has her brother with her.”

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Refs for our starter kitties!

Moonpaw: A pale tabby she-cat, eyes of sunlit ice, medium fur length. Nervous, picky nest-builder. 8m old.

Fogpaw: A white, unusually spotted (rosette) pale gray tom, cobalt eyes, medium fur length. Daring, quick to make peace, picky nest-builder. 8m old.