Clayclan

None of the Clayclan cats could explain how a river that was little more than a trickle could grow to flood the treeline in less than three sunrises. The water level had risen slowly enough for everyone to evacuate safely but it was more ominous for it. The fog and the drizzle from a moon ago had vanished for a pawful of sunrises, enough to make the cats believe Newleaf had truly driven out the Leafbare chill, only for the storm and fog to return with a steady, but renewed, vigor. 

"Everyone's accounted for Resinstar," Gustpond reported. "Driftstep and Taffytuft are certain they have all our herbs and prey," Crocusgaze added, "We won't lose anything to the river." "That's good to hear." Resinstar didn't hide his sigh of relief. As unused to as he was to being reported to delegating jobs to other cats made things a lot easier. "I was thinking," Crocusgaze broke into Resinstar's silent congratulatory party for himself at finally acting leaderly unceremoniously, "we might want to invest some time into reinforcing the bushes around here. We don't know when this storm will lighten up; we might as well set up some shelters." She shot a pointed glance over her shoulder as if to invite Gustpond to try and one up her. "That's a-" "I can-" began both Resinstar and Gustpond at the same time. The two toms let out a bit of awkward laughter. Gustpond gestured for the leader to go ahead. "That sounds like a good plan to me Crocusgaze." "And I can round up a few cats to do it." Resinstar nodded his assent to the dripping, grey warrior. "Water we waiting for then? The sooner we get dens sorted the sooner we can get out of this weather." The trio chuckled and split off in various directions.

Resinstar ducked under the leafless canopy of a nearby beech. It was far from ideal but at least he wasn't immediately soaking again once he shook out his fur. "We must weather the weather whether it's our pleasure or not," Claywhistle teased. It was easy for him to make puns despite the gloomy atmosphere- water fell right through his translucent pelt. "You seem to finally be stepping into this role. No complaints about wanting to chase after rocks?" Resinstar stuck a tongue out at his old friend. "Not in this weather. I couldn't find a twoleg's monster in this fog, even if it was as loud as Moosetrack's snores and Starclan themselves guided me." Claywhistle let out a belly-laugh. "You think Moosetracks is bad? Try sharing a den with Frostsong." "I'd rather do that then go out on a night like this-"

"-Who knows what could be out there?" Webwing pleaded with Fogpaw, but the apprentice remained unperturbed. "I do. It's two cats and they're lost. You saw it in the webs as well as I did." Fogpaw set his jaw defiantly. Driftstep's parsley had done wonders for alleviating Fogpaw's pain and replacing it with what Webwing personally considered one of the more prevalent tom secondary characteristics: foolish bravado. For a moment the incorporeal warrior considered lying to his friend, saying he had made a mistake and the spiderwebs that he and Fogpaw had read did not in fact foretell of lost travelers. "The lifelines were all over the place Fogpaw, we can't be sure they weren't faulty." Even before he finished saying it, Webwing regretted it. "There's no such thing as faulty fortunes, only faulty interpretations," Fogpaw recited, quoting one of Webwing's phrases. "If a web looks unnatural it's supposed to look unnatural. I'm right about this. I'm sure of it." Looking down at the small, dripping calico Webwing sighed. Far be it from him to deny a foolish decision to follow one's heart when his whole life had been a never ending series of them. "Fine. Let's-" Fogpaw didn't wait for him to finish before he was sprinting away. 

"You're far too fast for a half-blind cat in the fog," Webwing panted when he finally caught up to Fogpaw. As a ghost he didn't technically need to breathe but there was something about it that made him feel more grounded. "I know where I need to go," Fogpaw replied vaguely. And he certainly seemed to. As moonhigh set in, somewhere unseen above the canopy, Webwing and Fogpaw maneuvered through the clinging fog to a destination unknown. Suddenly Fogpaw stopped and the trance-like seriousness that had previously overcome him seemed to fade away. "Ah guppies," he sighed, all at once ten moons again. "There's four of them. Why can't I even get simple numbers right?" As Fogpaw took a grumble break, as even the cheeriest of apprentices are apt to do after moonhigh, Webwing peered through the fog, trying to make out the shapes Fogpaw claimed to see. There was one, a tall silhouette that might have been a rather cat-like shrub- but oh! It was certainly moving, and now he could just make out a smaller shadow tailing the lager one. His eyes began to hurt from trying to pick out the other two cats. "There's definitely only two Fogpaw." "No," Fogpaw insisted, confusion overcoming his frustration. "That's definitely four. Watch. Hey guys!" he yowled suddenly, "Are you lost?"

If the definition of lost was not knowing where one was then Tawnymoon certainly qualified. She had tried to retrace her steps in her mind. Badgers, spurred on by a harsh leafbare, had attacked Blueclan and she had gone to Beechclan for help. Then the blizzard had enveloped her and Tawnystar had lost her way, growing more and more numb until she could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet. But all at once the feeling came rushing back and she stood, vacant eyed, in the warm pouring rain. When her eyes refocused Tawnystar found herself face to face with an orange and white japanese bobtail. Or perhaps more accurately, face in face. "Hey there!" greeted the shecat as Tawnystar stumbled backwards in shock. "You're the Blueclan leader right? Tanstar or something like that?" The bobtail chuckled, ears twitching merrily. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm still no good at this clan stuff. Honeyfur claims I'm ignorant on purpose but she loves me anyways. Oops! I wasn't supposed to say that!" She winked, covering her muzzle with a paw in over the top coyness. "She also says I'm an oversharer." Tawnystar, thankfully, had had enough experience with kits to keep up with the chattiness of her new encounter. "Anyways," the shecat continued, "If you're Tanstar-" "Tawnystar." "Ah, see! Bad memory. Anyways if this is Blueclan I'm in the absolute wrong place. You wouldn't happen to know how to find Thicketclan from here? I'm supposed to be meeting- wait- no- this isn't right-" 

Tawnystar watched in fascinated horror as the shecat before her started flickering in and out of existence. The ghost- that's what she had to be- clutched her vibrating paws to her head and let out a painful shriek. Flashing in and out, faster and faster, Tawnystar was certain the ghost would explode, but that wouldn't stop her from helping a cat in pain. "Focus on me." Tawnystar struggled to keep her mew from shaking. "Listen to the sound of my voice." Wasn't that what Mallowpool always said? Mallowpool. The thought of him made Tawnystar flash with guilt. But the trick worked, and Tawnystar tried to focus on that instead. The bobtail gradually stopped flickering and instead settled into a dull throb, barely noticeable. "That was weird." Her mew was shaky but still impressively under control given the past few heartbeats. "I'll second that."

"You're Beechclan right?" Tawnystar had inquired of her newfound companion after she had recovered from her episode. The bobtail appeared familiar, Tawnystar rarely forgot a face, but due to the fog, or maybe her ghostly nature, there was no distinguishable scent. The shecat nodded and opened her mouth again, but before she could launch into another unrelated anecdote Tawnystar spoke up. "Thank goodness," she sighed, some of her forgotten panic resurfacing, "I need to talk to Sorrelstar right away. Blueclan is under attack." "Well why didn't you say so?" The ghost exclaimed, seeming to forget the extenuating circumstances of the past few heartbeats, "I'll take you to her right away. Except, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where she might be would you?"

"I'll ask you again- where's my sister?" Ivypaw, all eight moons of her, glared down the adult tom before her. No matter her personal grudge against Poppypaw she didn't want her sister to get hurt. A shame it took all of a coup, or whatever it was that had caused such mass chaos, to get her to admit that to herself. "I already told you," the tom- but he was a calico? A shecat with a really deep voice?- growled, "I don't know anything about any coup or any Aspenclan. Just leave me alone." Ivypaw shot another glare in the suspect's direction. She still wasn't sure that this cat hadn't lead to her clan's demise. "Fine. I don't need your help anyways." "You didn't ask for it, you just started accusing me." With a haughty sniff that conveyed more confidence than Ivypaw felt the apprentice stalked off into the fog. And she walked, and she walked, and she walked, and she walked some more. Through the never ending fog, until she wound up back where she had begun. "Back again are you?" "How are you doing this?" "I'm not," the older cat snapped back. "Just chill out would you? Your pacing is making me anxious." Ivypaw kept pacing for a few more heartbeats just to drive home a point before finally settling down. She tucked her paws beneath her chest and waited for whatever this weather was to pass. And she waited, and waited, and waited.

"No we're just taking a stroll," was the first thing that popped out of Ivypaw's mouth when the apprentice, whom she later learned to be Fogpaw, came upon her, Brushfire, and Tawnystar. Even when he and his "ghost" Webwing, which Ivypaw still wasn't sure what was about, lead the group out of the creeping fog and into the blessed, physical rain she did not let her gratitude be known. However long she had been stuck in that limbo it had been enough to cool her panic and cement her resentment. She did not ask about Aspenclan or Poppypaw until she appeared.

"Ivypaw?" The duck she had clenched between her teeth tumbled to Mottledfoot's paws. She couldn't believe it, she almost didn't, but there was her little sister standing before her looking not a day older than she remembered her. "That's me," her sister acknowledged a heartbeat too late. She seemed to be looking past Mottledfoot. "You grew." "You didn't." Ivypaw seemed to refocus for a moment, drawing herself up to her full height. "Thanks for reminding me," she replied wryly. The words seemed to tumble out of Mottledfoot's mouth all at once. "Where were you? It's so good to see you! Is Cloudmask with you? Poppypaw? How are you still so young?" Through the bombardment of questions Ivypaw seemed to be zoning out until Poppypaw was mentioned. "Why's it always about her?" Mottledfoot swore she heard her mumble under her breath. "Never mind. I'm just really glad you're here now." "Yeah, me too." Ivypaw's mew was stiff and it broke Mottledpaw's heart. "Do you want me to show you around?" She offered hopefully. "Maybe later," was the half hearted response she received. As Ivypaw skulked off to Starclan knows where Flaxpool lay a semi-solid tail across Mottledfoot's shoulders in comfort. "Give her time," the ghost advised, "She hasn't had as much time to adjust as you." Mottledfoot nodded mournfully. "I'm going to put this back," she gestured vaguely at the duck, "I'm not that hungry." Flaxpool didn't say anything, just nodded thoughtfully. Somehow that made everything worse.

"Hey Taffytuft!" Gustpond called out to his friend, tone cheery, if a little stilted, despite the gloomy weather. "You want to take a walk?" Taffytuft glanced up from where she lay, curled under a Juniper bush to avoid the steady drizzle. "I don't know," she mewed hesitantly, "My fur doesn't do well in the rain." Gustpond had a hard time imagining Taffytuft looking anything but perpetually stunning. "Er, well," he stuttered and then recovered, "We could look for mushrooms? They like rain and all-" "You had me at mushrooms!" Taffytuft had indeed shot to her paws as soon as Gustpond had introduced the idea and internally the tom breathed a sigh of relief. He listened to Taffytuft go on about the various fungi she had seen on her twolegs' magic box. "They were very into nature," she had happily told him, "and even though I'm clan now, I have to agree everything's much nicer on the magic box. Less mud that way." Taffytuft didn't seem to mind the mud between her paws despite that. Gustpond was too worried about what he was going to say next to even notice.

"This one's a lady veil," Taffytuft informed Gustpond as she bent to gently pick the mushroom with her teeth. "Careful it might be poisonous," he fretted. Taffytuft just laughed. "It's too pretty to be dangerous." She was right, it was a very beautiful sight. A slender white stalk veiled in a cascading white mesh and dotted with rain drops. Not for the first time Gustpond was struck with and understanding of why Taffytuft collected things as she did. The world was a unique and lovely sight when viewed through her eyes. When he saw it like she did he was certain this world could never hurt him. But the past had taught him better than that. It made his stomach hurt. "You alright?" Taffytuft asked through a mouthful of mushroom. "I'm fine. Just- can I tell you a story?" Taffytuft nodded and dropped her prize besides a growing collection of indigo milkcaps, turkey tail, and morels. "Go on."

It had started a day like any other on the docks. The other tradewind cats, those that made there home in the shipyard of the same name, had gone fishing for the day, as usual. Gustpond was in charge of his sibling's kits, also as usual. As the self appointed "cool uncle" Gustpond took it upon himself to make his nieces and nephews' days fun, and this time he was going to knock it out of the proverbial park. "Today adventurers, we will be making our maiden voyage," he had announced to the assembled kits in his ever popular pirate accent. The kits cheered and clambered onto the fishing vessel that Gustpond had told them so much about, eager as anything to visit the high seas they had heard so much about from their uncle. For a time after Gustpond had argued his innocence internally on the basis that the kits had wanted to go. Had begged him for nearly a moon to take them adventuring beyond the piers. But no, he admitted this now to Taffytuft, they had only wished to venture forth because of his tales. He had made them enamored with the sea and he had felt it his right, his duty, to introduce them to it. Even if it was against their parent's wishes. Even if it was too dangerous for kittens barely six moons old.

At first nothing had gone wrong. The weather was perfect- the sun's heat curbed by a brisk breeze and ocean spray- and the fishing crew were used to ship cats. Feline passengers were a guarantee when you docked in the Tradewinds. "The no-claws don't wrestle their fish the way do," Gustpond had explained to his audience as he perched on the top of an overturned bucket. "Since they lack claws they've trained their ships to release great webs- like spiders do- at just the right moment to catch their prey. Then they scoop up those webs and celebrate their catch. Sometimes they give the fish they don't like to us as reward for teaching them their clever hunting tricks." At that he lept off his perch and knocked over the bucket, revealing the pulpy chum and remains of fish discarded as unfit for markets. "Eat your fill," he encouraged the kits, "There's nothing like a fresh catch." Pride washed over him like waves wash over the sides of a boat as Gustpond watched his niblings try their first chum, but that pride soon turned to crashing panic when Curry began to gag. "Sirocco!" Masala screeched upon noticing his brother choking. "Do something!" And Gustpond did try, but between the blood and Curry's small size he wasn't sure what to do. Finally he managed to get his nephew to spit out a shard of metal- the broken end of a fishing hook- but Curry's breathing was so light and his sides so still. Blood still dribbled out of his mouth. "We'll be home soon,"Gustpond had promised. "Just hang on." But he couldn't make the ship travel any faster, and he couldn't keep the sky clear. 

"Watch him," he had instructed Masala just as the sky broken open. The other kits had scrambled for cover as soon as the first crack of thunder had sounded and he had to find them. Had to make sure they weren't trampled underfoot or washed overboard. He wove around no-claw boots and snaking lines of rope being dragged this way and that. Cries to hoist this sail or lower that competed with crashing waves to be heard. Gustpond managed to snatch Cinnamon by the scruff before he was washed overboard, but dropped him swiftly after to catch Cardamon. Then Coriander shrieked past his vision, caught in a tangle of shifting rope, and stunned by indecision Gustpond lost track of them all. Only Cumin, Masala, and Curry remained in his sight and he stood over them the whole trip back, shielding them from disaster with his body. In the end his family could only give last rites to Curry, the bodies of the three other dead could not be found. Gustpond was banished the day after.

"That's horrible!" Taffytuft's outburst made Gustpond flinch but she couldn't help it. The ocean of her twoleg's magic box was always so tranquil and crystal blue, nothing at all like how Gustpond recounted it. The two images couldn't be reconciled in her mind's eye. "I know it is," Gustpond replied morosely. "Which is why I had to tell you. I'm in love with you Taffytuft-" He laughed bitterly at that. "-which is such a foolish statement after a story like that. But I had to tell you, because I thought there might have been a chance you felt the same way, and I couldn't let you say it back not knowing what I had caused." Taffytuft was silent for several moments, her head abuzz with the implications of everything her friend had just revealed. Finally she spoke. "You're beautiful." Her words were met with a confused stare. "I know you couldn't have meant any harm because you're beautiful. Inside and out. Beauty, real beauty, is a reflection of the good inside. It's not the size of your muscles or the sleekness of your pelt or how your stripes are like stark rivers-" Though now that she had mentioned it she couldn't not think of Gustpond's stripes. "It's how your whiskers twitch when you laugh, how you pick flowers for a sick stranger, how you go mushroom hunting in the pouring rain. You can't mean to hurt others, not truly and not for long, the same way a nightshade can't mean to poison cats. And so I do love you, despite what you told me and anything else you will tell me. I do." The more she said so the more Taffytuft came to find it to be true. Love had bloomed in her chest as beautiful as any lily, it had simply taken her this long to realize it. Gustpond came out of his stupor with a nervous chuckle which then morphed into a real laugh, one that tickled his whiskers just the right way. "Then will you be my mate Taffytuft?" "Of course I will."

Salmoncress and Stormripple had left mid-conversation to give their bound some privacy but one pair of eyes had seen the whole confession, one pair of ears had heard the whole story. Crocusgaze hadn't meant to spy, well maybe she had just a little. All she had wanted to do was make sure Gustpond wasn't trying anything fishy like fixing votes or drowning kits. Not that he was the kind of tom to do that but a would-be-deputy couldn't be too careful, especially if that would-be-deputy was Crocusgaze. Whatever she had expected to see and hear it certainly wasn't that. Crocusgaze had the decency to feel ashamed. Turning to slip away before she inadvertently startled the happy couple the shecat suddenly found herself muzzle to muzzle with an all to familiar face. "Valhöll!" Crocusgaze cried, just barely managing to bring her surprised yelp down to writeoffable levels. 

"Malloweyes, what on Miðgarðr are you doing here?" The former rouge's old accent had returned with a vengeance when the possible ghost, possible creepy old elder had surprised her. As Crocusgaze struggled to bring herself back under control, with furtive glances to make sure Taffytuft and Gustpond hadn't noticed her slip up, Malloweyes only chuckled. "I could ask you the same thing," she pointed out in a mew smooth as silk, "Enjoy spying on new lovers?" "I was only making sure Gustpond wasn't up to anything." Crocusgaze almost managed a tone as calm as Malloweyes. "Well I'd say you found it. The deputyship is virtually yours." Crocusgaze cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "Resinstar is a softy. Tell him how Gustpond killed his own nieces and nephews and you're a shoe in for sure," Malloweyes continued, as if she were explaining why rain fell to a kit. "I'm not doing that." "And why not? Do you want such a negligent cat in charge?" Crocusgaze glanced once more over her shoulder at where Taffytuft and Gustpond were engaged in, pointless given the weather, grooming. "You'd be a much better deputy and you know it." "If digging up one cat's past is all that puts me in the lead then I'm no candidate for deputy at all." Malloweyes shook her ragged head and let out another chuckle. "Suit yourself." She flashed a grin. "But when your way fails come look me up." Then she all at once she was gone, leaving Crocusgaze with nothing but the memory of her gleaming green eyes and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

As it turned out, neither Malloweyes needn't have bothered proposing a slander campaign, Gustpond took himself out of the running before the next sun high. "I need to focus on my family you see," he had explained to Resinstar, "Taffytuft and I are planning on having lots of kits. Besides-" and he had laughed a bit at this "-I never wanted to be deputy in the first place. Mottledfoot's just a bit too persuasive for her own good." And so the clan found themselves gathered under a drooping holly tree, which was far from ideal but the best they could do under such circumstances, staring up at Resinstar and Crocusgaze who were perched amongst the branches. "I say these words before StarClan," Resinstar began, startling a little as the holly branch groaned under his weight as he shifted. "so that the spirits of our, uh-" "Warrior ancestors," Claywhistle helpfully supplied. "So that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice. The new deputy of Clayclan is Crocusgaze." The smattering of gathered cats let out a hearty cheer, even Mottledfoot after encouragement from Gustpond. Resinstar felt the glow of pride warm his chest despite the downpour. Clayclan was finally taking shape. The greatest adventure of the former junkyard cat's life had only just begun.