Let us Build the Future Together {OPEN - WC CLAN MEETING}

There had been a break in the Greenleaf heat, small breezes drafted over camp, letting the temperature drop to something more bearable. All around, cats lay on stones and grass, sharing prey and making conversation for the evening. Most of the patrols had already returned, and with the clan full and well fed, Finchstar decided it would be a good time to talk. There had been a change swirling in his mind for the past few sunrises, something strange and yet seemingly possible. Padding into the sandy hollow, the orange and white tabby found a comfortable seat in the shade, gazing at his paws as he silently thought to himself. The tunnels had long since been abandoned ever since WindClan's last leader, Brindlestar banned her clanmates from entering them. Finchstar didn't know her reasoning on the subject, but it had seemed like a sound idea, so he never questioned it. They had thought themselves safe from those gaping holes, too far under the dirt to effect them. But Brookclover, as well as Finchstar himself proved that theory to be false, when the warrens caved in, and they had lost their lives. The grief from the ordeal had never left the tom, and he suspected it never would. The leader had gotten better at finding joy even in the midst of his pain... but perhaps he could use it to be productive as well.

"All cats old enough to run the moors, gather beneath the Tallrock for a clan meeting!" Finchstar kept his place on the sandy ground below the massive rock, seeing no reason to tower over his clanmates if there were no ceremonies to make. Down here, a discussion could be held, in the sand, things were equal, civil. "Gather close, WindClan." Finchstar crooned as his friends began to appear, finding seats in the sandy hollow. "Make room for the apprentices!" Having all the clan gathered, the young tom couldn't help but smile. The sense of comradery that came with a big talk like this one was a wonderous feeling. It was time to talk tunnels. "As most of you know, Brindlestar, leader before myself had banned the tunnels below the moor, presumably for safety reasons. But a few moons ago, a sinkhole ripped through the grass, taking both myself and Brookclover with it... May her spirit live forever. Any logical cat could see that the cave-in was caused by the flood, but I have a suspicion that perhaps a stable tunnel would have been more reliable. There is no one to blame here but fate. Whatever decisions that were made in the past were sound ones, but as life keeps marching on, so must we. I do not want any of the cats here today to face the same fate as my mate." He watched the eyes around him carefully, blinking as a ray of light cut into his shade. "I want to propose a new training regimen for both warriors and apprentices alike. Long ago, our clan used their paws to dig holes beneath this earth, and while I do not think we should strive for something as serious, I do believe it would be futile to learn to dig just as they once did, to save ourselves from the very earth we walk on." Finchstar paused for a small moment, knowing more was needed. "WindClan will never dig another tunnel, but I do believe shoring up and stabilizing the preexisting ones would be helpful, to ensure the moor is safe." The sun began to dip below the gorse wall, casting the sandy hollow in an orange light. It was a homey feel, WindClan gathered in a circle, discussing their future. Finchstar loved it. "But I am not the only cat in this clan. I would like to hear your thoughts, even those of the apprentice's." He found Cloverpaw among the crowd and gave him a wink, loving the atmosphere, and the cats that resided in it.

Goldenpaw looked up from where she had been sunning herself, enjoying the warmth soaking into her pelt. Lazily sitting up after a long day of training, she padded over to sit next to Barleytuft, Graybriar and Raventail, curious about what would be discussed since Finchstar wasn't on the Tallrock and he specifically requested the apprentices as well. She blinked as the leader spoke, thinking to the moors and more importantly for this conversation, what may lay under them. She hesitated for a long time, wanting desperately to say something but afraid to speak first. Her mouth couldn't stay shut forever though, no matter how hard she tried, and she spoke out without daring look at her father, mother, or mentor. 

"I think it's a good idea. At least if we shore up and make the existing tunnels sturdy, we can hunt and walk without fear of what is beneath us. And the ones that we can't soldify.. Well, maybe we can close those ones off? Or collapse them ourselves, so they can't collapse on their own terms?" She hesitated, closing her eyes for a moment as she thought of how she would feel if she found out that a tunnel had swallowed one of her siblings, or her mother, father, or mentor. Her eyes opened with a new determination, one that was naive but strong. "I'll volunteer to help, if it means that it makes the moors a safer place. Even if it means I fall a little behind on my training, I want to help." Still not daring to look at her parents or Raventail, she sat up straight, proudly and defiantly against any criticisms that might come her way.

Barleytuft lay on his side on the cool grass of camp, content hazel eyes half-closed against the brilliant light as the evening sun shone down on him and his Clan. His family lazed about the camp in various places as well, and when his thoughts wandered to them he would open one eye a little more to glance at them. It had been a long, pleasant day with successful hunting for everyone, and now they were tired and worn. The warrior was grateful that his pale coat had helped to keep him cool as he raced on the moor after his prey. Things had been returning to normal more and more by the day; Graybriar had returned to her warrior duties, their kits had become apprentices, some apprentices had become warriors, some warriors became mentors, and the weather was finally stabilizing to seem more like the Greenleaf that Barleytuft knew and remembered.

The pale tabby warrior was surprised to hear a voice call out over the quiet of the camp, "All cats old enough to run the moors, gather beneath the Tallrock for a clan meeting!" Barleytuft, still laying on his side, turned his head from the sun to the Tallrock; Finchstar stood beneath it, calling the summons for a Clan meeting. Barleytuft cocked his head slightly and, with a grunt, rolled himself to his feet to go join him. He saw his daughter Goldenpaw rise swiftly and come to sit beside him, and he greeted her with a warm lick on her ear. Cloverpaw appeared from the apprentice's den an instant later, sitting himself on Goldenpaw's other side. Barleytuft flicked his silver son's tail with his own tail, and then he turned his attention back to Finchstar.

They waited until the whole Clan had gathered and then his friend began to speak. At the first mention of tunnels, Barleytuft's serene expression darkened and he sat up straighter, watching his leader with an intense expression as he carried on. At one point Finchstar's gaze caught his own, and Barleytuft knew he was failing to hide his uncertainty. The tom carried on speaking, proposing the WindClan cats once again learn the skills of their ancestors in order to strengthen the tunnels and prevent them from collapsing ever again. Barleytuft's dark hazel eyes searched for Graybriar, and then Swiftstep, and Elmskip; did they feel as uneasy as he did?

Finchstar asked for the views of his Clanmates and Barleytuft said nothing, his eyes clouded with thought. He had a million questions he had to sort through. Who will teach us? he wondered. Surely everyone has heard that tunnels still collapsed even before Brindlestar's time. How many tunnels are there? Would it even matter what we learn if we can't find all the tunnels?

A painfully familiar voice broke into his thoughts and he stared hard at his daughter, Goldenpaw, as the ginger-and-white tabby voiced her input. Finchstar had specifically asked for it, but Stars, did Barleytuft hate it. She responded supportively, even going so far as to offer to learn to help. A shudder went through Barleytuft's fur and he protested nervously, "I'm sorry - with all due respect, you haven't even been an apprentice for a moon yet, Goldenpaw - you've never seen a cave in or what tunnels can do even to full grown warriors."

Brookclover's muddy face when he pulled her out of the earth flashed into his mind and he flexed his claws, turning his hazel eyes on Finchstar. "Even when WindClan was made partly of proud tunnelers, tunnel patrols risked getting caught by a cave-in. They were closed because even the lives of skilled cats were lost. We have none of those skilled cats among us now to teach us - I think it's a big risk with little reward." He winced at his own words as a voice inside admonished, It would have been the greatest reward to save Brookclover. Barleytuft shook his tabby head and sighed, "I-I just don't know about this. I'm worried we would just open ourselves up to more danger."

---

Cloverpaw had been working on fluffing up his new nest in the apprentices' den when Finchstar's voice called from the camp clearing. The silver-white tabby tom immediately abandoned his task to race to his leader and mentor's call, small scraps of moss and a feather of down clinging to his short fur. He spotted his sister Goldenpaw beside their father and made his way to her, dark-ringed tail up in the air. He greeted his sister with a playful nudge before looking at Finchstar at the base of the Tallrock.

Before he could really even wonder what the meeting might be about, the WindClan leader began to speak. "WindClan will never dig another tunnel, but I do believe shoring up and stabilizing the preexisting ones would be helpful, to ensure the moor is safe," he stated, and Cloverpaw immediately looked aside at Goldenpaw, wondering what she had to say - and she must have, because her eyes were sparkling with concentration.

Sure enough, without checking in with the people around her she offered her support, suggesting that perhaps they could secure the good tunnels and find some way to purposefully and safely collapse unstable tunnels. Cloverpaw found himself nodding enthusiastically in agreement, especially when she offered to learn to do so even if it meant being an apprentice longer. No way she's going to get to do anything I can't, he thought with determination. Their father's voice cut in then, and Cloverpaw was surprised to see the uneasiness on the pale tabby tom's face. He had a feeling that Barleytuft and Finchstar had both taken different lessons from his namesake's death.

Cloverpaw leaned over to Goldenpaw and whispered, "I hope we get to learn to tunnel - we'll be able to do stuff our dad never learned!"

Tired from the day’s lessons (he’d been right; training an apprentice was as exhausting as being one) and with no chores from Swiftstep or Finchstar on the horizon, Raventail had helped himself to a rabbit and settled down near the fresh-kill pile for a nap, eager to take advantage of the cooler evening sun. Finchstar’s call (oddly, from beneath the Tallrock) changed his plans. After a quick stretch, the small tom sat beside Barleytuft, as he had taken to doing since Goldenpaw’s apprenticeship; when Goldenpaw joined them, he gave his apprentice a grin.

The meeting began. Raventail’s restless paws went still at the first mention of the sinkhole and remained so through the first half of Finchstar’s announcement, but as Finchstar went on, his expression changed to a very unsettled one indeed. The tip of his tail began to twitch. As much as he hated being hyperaware of where he set his paws, sending cats into the tunnels as if they were something that could be fixed seemed downright absurd. He was too young to remember Brindlestar as anything more than a name, didn’t know what had caused her to ban the tunnels previously; he barely knew what the tunnels had once been used for. What he did know was that, though he was unfamiliar with some of what Barleytuft had said, his opinion was the same. After Barleytuft finished speaking, he gave a small nod—a quiet show of support.

There was something else he needed to address. Apparently, he needed to be clearer about just why their training hadn't covered tunnels in detail. ”Goldenpaw…“ Raventail took a quick breath. Collapsing the tunnels sounded like a good idea…if only there was a way to do it without getting any WindClanners involved. ”As much as I want the tunnels closed…your dad’s right. It’s not like hunting or fighting—if one of those falls through, it doesn’t matter if you're the strongest warrior in the forest, you can’t control it. Plus,” he continued, using a lighter tone in an attempt to cut the tension, "that's not really something I can teach you, you know? You'd have to get another mentor just for digging."

Aspenpaw perked up at all the mixed opinions being presented. Finally, something he was good at. Sitting on the outskirts of the conversation did him no good. The tom shuffled forward, not bothering to stand up all the way, but instead scooting along in a crouch, settling himself beside Raventail. He coughed to get every cat's attention before speaking.

"Listen, Barleytuft has a point," he explained calmly, "But it comes from a place of emotion. This is a big decision. We need logic and reasoning, not misery and grief. That's how rash decisions get made. That's how tunnels are banned. Which brings me to my next point: you know why that tunnel came down? Nobody checked on any of them for moons. You can't blame the flood. They were wrecked before they became swimming holes for every worm, rabbit, and mole that happened to be burrowing down there!" He looked around at his clanmates, his face betraying his excitement at being the center of attention. It was pretty fun, having everybody listen to him. He wondered if Finchstar would mind switching places with him.

He turned to directly address Barleytuft. He felt bad, but he could tell what he was imagining from the look in his eyes. Aspenpaw himself shuddered at the mental picture of Goldenpaw's crushed, broken body being hauled out from the earth. "I love you, big guy, but one sinkhole, one freak accident, doesn't doom the rest of us. We all miss Brookclover. We all want to avenge her, but looking backward never did us any good. The dirt does not obey StarClan; we can't ask our ancestors to haul every fallen warrior out of the ground alive. But it can be prevented. Weekly or biweekly checks. Condemn every faulty tunnel, manage every section, and teach our clanmates and children to dig themselves out. Nobody enters a tunnel alone. I promise you, we'll have one broken limb a year. Tops."

He took a final glance around before his sheepishness took over him. Had he been to rash? Too quick? He hoped not. "That's all I have to say. I'm tired of looking in the past."

Grovekit sat nearby the nursery, obediently listening as the clan discussed the matter of the tunnels that ran underneath the moor. It was the first the young kit had heard of the matter... It was horrifying to imagine the scene that Finchstar described, of two cats crushed to death by earth, sucked into a hole in the ground from which they couldn’t escape, suffocated by the weight of it.
He thought back to the reoccurring nightmare he’d been having recently, of spending hours underneath the water, drowning, exhausted, unable to find the surface, his uncoordinated legs flailing. Perhaps if he knew how to swim, the nightmares would go away—if he knew how to swim, the nightmare would never have the chance to become reality. He was too young to understand the issue in a meaningful way, but he imagined that there was no harm in everyone learning to escape such a horrible situation. If they could prevent more cats dying in such a terrible way, why wouldn’t they? In his young mind, the logic seemed clear-cut. Learning to swim means not drowning. Learning to dig free means not dying in a sinkhole. Right?
He kneaded the ground impatiently as Aspenpaw spoke, buzzing with impatient energy. “I agree!” He blurted out, “I think Aspenpaw and Goldenpaw are right!” He flattened his ears, becoming quickly, acutely aware that his opinion wasn’t welcome in this setting. Only those who were 6 moons or older were allowed to attend and speak at clan meetings, such had been the rule for longer than Grovekit could possibly know. He couldn’t seem to contain his voice, though. “Isn’t it... isn’t it better to be prepared?”

Loonpaw did not fare well in controversy. She never had.

The moment Finchstar began his speech, and it became apparent this clan meeting was not intended for ceremony, she knew this was going to travel far from her comfort zone. She was a simple minded she-cat. She did everything required of her, and she tried to do it with enthusiasm and character, sure, but she was not prepared for such long winded explanations. They grew hard to follow, with their seemingly endless sentences and unnecessary fluff. Finchstar's speech was no different than every other that resided in her nightmares. And the moment that he began speaking, well, Loonpaw attempted to follow his words into every nook they trekked to.

But she got lost. Luckily, though the sentences had somehow blended together while her leader spoke, she got the gist of the problem ahead. To tunnel or not to tunnel? Already, Loonpaw knew that the resulting disagreement would be driven by emotion and passion. She herself had no definite position regarding the subject, so she was content to sit back and watch the clan bicker around her. She would hold her words until she was certain of her decision.

Goldenpaw was the very first to speak, and her answer was noble and simple. Help the warriors, fix the problem, and boom no argument. It was all very Goldenpaw, solving such a challenge with ease, though she was but 7 moons old. Confidence poured from her like fear escaped many others. Barleytuft was next to speak, and his answer drew her in far more than Goldenpaw's. She had sat close to the tom - her mentor - and had been looking forward to hearing his own opinion on the matter. But she had not been expecting him to exude such emotion as the heart-beats passed.

Loonpaw was horrible at reading emotions, that fact was often painfully obvious to even the dullest of kittens, but she had grown to love the tom's joking and happy nature, and now, that energy had suddenly disappeared. She knew what had happened, how his former apprentice had been lost to the clan, eaten by the ground. It was sad and a huge legacy to live up to. To train as Brookclover had. And at first she had hated it. She had despised knowing that she was merely a replacement for the irreplaceable Brookclover, and she had hated the fact that she would always be compared to the other she-cat, though she hardly knew her. But Loonpaw had grown-up. She had seen the misplaced judgement of her beliefs, and she now saw how Barleytuft's was clouded. She could feel the emotion he placed behind every word. And emotion, while it was a fantastic asset, could become a powerful handicap in moments when decisions had to be made. Aspenpaw was right. Even Raventail's judgement was askew.

"I, uh," she paused, her gaze flickering to Barleytuft. She hated to disappoint him. But when had she ever been skilled at much else? "I think Aspenpaw is right. I think, uh, I think one incident is clouding the clan's opinion." another pause followed by a shaky swallow. "I, er, I didn't know Brookclover, but she had to be an amazing cat if she had the ability to leave such an impact on us all." Loonpaw took a breath. "But what happened to her was a freak accident. If a tree fell on anyone of us right now, we wouldn't hate upon the tree. We would not be afraid of the trees. We certainly wouldn't try to cut down all the trees. There's no reason to fear the tunnels because of one accident." as she spoke, she could tell that this was too far a stretch. Her whole argument was falling to shambles and Loonpaw could only stutter on. "I think maintaining the tunnels is a good idea." She finished in the Loonpaw fashion - short and simple.

Goldenpaw spoke first and Finchstar had to stifle a purr, her enthusiasm was certainly appreciated, and he wished to leave his spot and give her a thank you, but perhaps it was true that the idea's of the apprentices would be more impulsive and less logical. The leader didn't wish to think it, as he valued the opinion of all his clan, but he kept the thought as a note in his mind. Barleytuft spoke next and seemed to agree with Finchstar's intrusive thought, his concern for his daughter, for all of WindClan came as something expected, and yet the leader found himself at a crossroads. Cloverpaw was as enthusiastic as ever, and the leader couldn't stop a smile from drifting across his face as he spoke. His apprentice was a spunky thing, and seemed to awaken the inner kit Finchstar's own self, he appreciated the tom. Raventail with concern for Goldenpaw his new apprentice, and the orange and white tabby found himself proud at the maturity in Raventail's self. Aspenpaw next, and Finchstar's smile only grew wider. It was no wonder they were friends, the sarcasm that fueled both of them never came in short supply. A small fluff wove between the sturdy warriors, and Grovekit inserted himself into the fray. A fluffy little thing. Loonpaw was next, quite mature for her age.

WindClan was full, interacting together under the orange sun. Finchstar's optimism flared over the controversy, and he grinned even through the imminent deep conversation that was to come. Whatever was to happen, peace would follow. He would ensure it, and all these cats here deserved nothing less. "Goldenpaw your drive is admirable, and I cherish your desire to help your clan, but I can understand your father's concerns." Barleytuft being one of WindClan's senior warriors, and more importantly a wonderful friend, held much weight in the conversation. Finchstar found himself consulting Barleytuft more recently, their past conversation branded into his heart, it kept him warm. "You make a good point Barleytuft… and your care for the clan is a beautiful thing. WindClan would not be the same without a cat such as you. What do you suggest we do instead, friend?"

Cloverpaw's comment still rang in the clearing, and then Raventail's. "When Spiderfur passed, unfortunately the last knowledge of tunneling did as well. Raventail, nor the rest of WindClan will be able to teach such a skill, but perhaps Aspenpaw could." The confusion that rippled through the crowd made Finchstar chuckle, waiting a moment to explain himself. "As our medicine cat... perhaps a journey to the moonstone may be in order, we could talk to our oldest ancestors, learning the knowledge now lost, and use it to further the future." He nodded to his former apprentice, wondering how he'd feel about the task.

"And Grovekit. I appreciate your input. I do agree with you, however, I think we could change our plan slightly." Finchstar smiled at the small tom, chuckling to himself silently. "And Loonpaw, your thoughts are greatly appreciated as well. I admire your intelligence." His clan had spoken, and now they would find a compromise, or one could hope.

"I do have an idea, however I would like all of your input before I proceed. Perhaps we could destroy all the tunnels, and hold stabilized cave-ins as Goldenpaw suggested. I see no reason to keep shoring up the old tunnels if they will never be utilized. But Barleytuft, your fears are valid, friend. Raventail's as well. Tell me your thoughts on this, I'd like to hear what you have to think of our new scheme."

Grousefrost's ears twitched at the summoning words. His blue eyes opening as his head raised to observe Finchstar as he waited for them. It was a proper gathering then. He stretched out his limbs and padded silently into the middle of the gathering cats. Each word of the other cats being listened to with rapt attention as he thought it over carefully. The painful memories of Brookclover made his chest tighten. The entire situation had been very dangerous... but he thought about it more thoroughly then that.

"We need the tunnels." Grousefrost's voice rang out clearly after Finchstar's last suggestion. His eyes were narrowed in concentration at the orange and white leader as he stood. Lanky pale and light grey body sticking out among the throng of sitting cats. "It isn't just a matter of if we use them, and it's a shame that we don't. StarClan blessed us with a stragetically brilliant thing. Those tunnels could be used to evacuate during an attack by an enemy clan, or by predators." His head lifted as he turned to face the crowd. "Besides that, where does all our leafbare prey come from?" He paused for a moment, waiting for a cat to answer.

They would have to be blind not to realise it. Grousefrost had hunted rabbits and mice that came out of the tunnels frequently.
"They come from the tunnels. The rabbits love them. If we get rid of them, even the wrong section, we would be wasting valuable resources. Our prey would be driven onto enemy territory since there wouldn't be enough dens for them." He paused, then looked towards Barelytuft. Blue gaze softening at the tom's distress.

"I loved Brookclover..." he paused for a moment, 'She was almost like a second mother to me.'. The thought rang painfully in his head as he swallowed back emotion that threatened to emerge. He forced himself to continue speaking evenly. "It was a tragedy, but the true fault isn't the ground's." He turned back to Finchstar. "The tunnels are our inheretence from the cats who came before us. We should be valuing them and keeping them safe. Collapsing them will also create a new problem. The tunnels are full of air, if we bring them down, it's going to create ditches and holes where there weren't any before. No cat knows how many tunnels there are, but from the sheer number of entrances, it's safe to guess the entirety of WindClan would be a disaster."

He paused in his speech. Stepping forward boldly to stand among the cats sitting in the front row.
"I know my mother was scared of them. I know they are dangerous, but the rewards of them are too great. If you'll have it, Finchstar, I volunteer to be a tunneler."

The words of her father cut through her like unsheathed claws at her heart, and despite herself she turned to look up at him, shock and despair in her eyes. Her ears flattened against her head as Raventail spoke against her as well, and her blue eyes turned to look at him in turn, shining with the pain of their betrayal. Of all the cats that she had expected to speak out against, the last ones she had anticipated were her mentor and her own father. A small voice at the back of her mind spoke out, saying they hadn't meant it that way, but she had already taken their words to heart and lowered her head, staring at the ground with the hot sting of tears welling in her eyes. She tried desperately to blink them back, only shaking her head slightly as her beloved brother Cloverpaw whispered to her. She didn't want another mentor, she had thought they could learn together, was that truly too much to expect?... She listened in a daze, her clanmates voices sounding like echoes across the moors, too hurt to put much thought into truly listening to them. Aspenpaw was the first after her to speak in favor of the tunnels, and her tail tip flicked lightly. Next was the high-pitched mew of.. Was that Grovekit?

She looked over to him, before standing and turning her back to her father and mentor, she didn't really want to see either of them anyways. She padded over to the kit, nudging him gently with her nose. When she reached him, her ear flicked and she lowered herself next to him. "I agree with you, Grovekit, and you're brave for voicing your thoughts... Although you're not really supposed to be here. And with the way some are talking, it would seem as though the apprentices that Finchstar specifically requested weren't truly welcome to voice their thoughts either she thought bitterly, still slighted by the responses that had come directly after her own. But she would hold those thoughts to herself, continuing to speak to Grovekit in a hushed voice. You might get stepped on, here, climb onto my shoulders. It will get you away from the paws of the warriors and you'll be able to see better." She listened as Loonpaw spoke in turn, her words much more eloquent than her own, and felt a little bit better. At least there were some cats with some sense in WindClan after all, even if they were a far cry from who she had wanted to be at her side.

Her head raised as Finchstar directed some words her way, eyes still shining with the pain of the feeling of betrayal she took in Barleytuft and Raventail's words, but she nodded to the leader once in acknowledgement. Grousefrost brought up some very good points, regarding the tunnels as homes for prey, and shelter when they needed it. She didn't know much about leaf-bare, nothing at all really, but Grousefrost looked like he knew what he was talking about so she took his word for it.

As Barleytuft finished sharing his opinion, he heard another voice pipe up - his friend Raventail, and his daughter's mentor. The dark tom seemed to side with the elder warrior, and Barleytuft looked at him gratefully for the support. Raventail had a very good point, really, in that most warriors would be unable to train their apprentices in this new skill for they themselves had never really learned it. Barleytuft had thought the same and was glad that his friend saw the logic of it too, and he felt relieved for a moment until he looked towards his daughter Goldenpaw and saw that her head was ducked, face dark with an emotion that he couldn't read at first. Was she... hurt?

Aspenpaw spoke Barleytuft's name and pulled his attention from his daughter, temporarily shoving his concerns for the little she-cat to the back of his mind. The warrior turned to look at the medicine cat with stricken eyes when the pale silvery tom expressed that his concerns came from a place of emotion rather than logic. A defensive flame wanted to roar to life in his belly, but the creamy warrior respected his friend too much; not only that, but the words which Aspenpaw spoke were sound reasoning, and truthfully, Barleytuft couldn't refute that his reaction was an emotional one. Instead of arguing the tabby set his jaw firmly, eyes glinting with discomfort and displeasure, and stared at the medicine cat while he explained that the lack of care for the tunnels had been what caused the collapse. He suggested ways to maintain them - a schedule even - and Barleytuft could hardly believe his ears.

You weren't there! he wanted to cry, and the thought yowled in his head as he pictured the same visions of muddy death over and over. Aspenpaw's face held sympathy, but it didn't yield to the warrior's desires. He was startled when Aspenpaw wrapped up and a kit spoke, throwing in their opinion. Barleytuft looked at the little creature and felt his terror rising - his kits may be apprentices now, but they were still barely older than little Grovekit who spoke. The thought of any of them trying to move in the dark, tight space of a tunnel made his chest tighten. "Isn’t it... isn’t it better to be prepared?" the kit asked, and Barleytuft looked hopelessly at Finchstar, wondering if he would say anything about a kit joining in the conversation. Apprentices fine, he understood, but kits...! He saw Goldenpaw get up and turn her back on him, going to the small kit's side and murmuring to him. Now Barleytuft knew something was wrong - no pleased apprentice went elsewhere while there was a meeting going on.

Another familiar voice spoke and Barleytuft found himself looking at Loonpaw, his newest apprentice. "What happened to her was a freak accident," she said, and the thought didn't comfort him. No one could protect against freak accidents.... he supposed that was her point, though, and he hated it to be true. At last Finchstar weighed in on what he had heard, responding to each of his Clanmates in turn. When the leader looked at Barleytuft and asked what they should do instead, Barleytuft's eyes widened and his mouth opened but no sound came out. He croaked a sound for a moment before closing his mouth and shaking his head helplessly. The ginger-and-white tom's next words shocked Barleytuft: "Perhaps we could destroy all the tunnels, and hold stabilized cave-ins as Goldenpaw suggested."

Grousefrost's voice came out first, before anyone else could react. "We need the tunnels," he argued, and Barleytuft shifted uncomfortably. Of course the tom was right; StarClan had granted them the tunnels, and any cat knew that was where the prey hid during the cold seasons. No one tried to argue against it. Barleytuft gazed at Grousefrost and felt like an apprentice again under the tom's cool blue stare, though when the other warrior spoke his voice was gentle and understanding. "I loved Brookclover... "It was a tragedy, but the true fault isn't the ground's." He turned back to Finchstar and Barleytuft looked at his paws, listening to him rationalize reopening them. And then, he volunteered.

And then, Cloverpaw volunteered. "I want to learn to be a tunneler, too!" the tom blurted out. His light amber eyes stared with wonder and awe at Grousefrost and Finchstar. "Please - my siblings and I are all apprentices, we can learn! We'll be WindClan's best tunnelers!"

Barleytuft frowned and stared helplessly at his son before looking at Finchstar again. He let out a long, low sigh before saying gently, "I don't know about everything else, but Grousefrost is right about one thing. We... we couldn't collapse all the tunnels even if we all wanted to. We've lost rabbits into holes unknown only to have them reappear fox-lengths away from another hole we couldn't see. Who knows how much more danger we could create under the surface if we failed to fully destroy a tunnel? If we can't safely destroy them, and we also can no longer leave them without maintenance, then..." He fell quiet and looked around at his Clanmates, and finally he finished, "We have to make them safer, even if we must risk danger to do so." I can't lose another cat to the tunnels. StarClan, help us.

Grovekit had been expecting to be scolded for speaking up, but instead, Finchstar graciously acknowledged his thoughts. His ears perked up, and he tried to sit a bit taller—pride rushed through him mingling with the embarrassment that still squeezed in his belly.
When Goldenpaw spoke to him, he nodded vigorously and climbed up onto her haunches, taking care not to claw her as he did so. From this new vantage point, he could see the meeting much better—rather than being lost in a forest of warriors longer legs, he was nearly eye level with them, listening attentively to the continuing debate.

"Whatever we do," Aspenpaw spoke out loudly, "It still involves digging, which none of us know how to do. It looks like most of the clan is saying the same thing: open a few, see how it goes. With thanks to Finchstar for so graciously volunteering me," he joked with a wink towards the leader, "If we're really going through with this, we need help. StarClan-ian help. Clearly, I can't relay the information myself, so somebody has to come with me."

The silver tom lifted his paws for everybody to see that they were less than ideal for digging. He looked around at his clanmates and suddenly felt fear. What if they had it wrong? Would their ancestors tell them so? Did it matter to them what path WindClan chose? After a few brief moments of second guessing, he cleared his throat. When they were united, as the floods had forced them to be, they were limitless. A tiny smile crossed his muzzle. They were fine. They were always fine. He just had to be smart about things. He put on his Important Talk Voice and stood up.

"We need warriors to come with me to Highstones at the next available night. We will consult StarClan, and if all goes well, they'll embark the knowledge our ancestors had onto us. The warriors who learn to dig will pass on everything they know to the rest of the clan. Are we in agreement?" Seeing no outstanding objectors, he continued. "Apprentices will not be coming. This is too high of a risk to allow our youngest ones to carry this burden. Grousefrost, since you so aptly volunteered, and because you understand the risks better than most of us, I'll extend the offer to you first. Do we have two, maybe three more warriors?"

Elmskip spoke up from the back of the group, carefully pushing his way forward to Aspenpaw. This seemed like a good idea to him, and a good idea for how he could get out of camp a little bit and stretch his legs. Maybe he'd be better at digging than he was at hunting and fighting, and he wanted to be a valued member to his clan. Barleytuft had made some good points, but overall he felt this was a good thing for the Clan and Aspenpaw had some good ideas. So far he was impressed with the young medicine cat.

"I'll go, Aspenpaw. Count me in." he called. He stopped near the front of the group and sat down, nodding towards Finchstar and then Grousefrost, his travel partner.

The tall pale warrior sat with his eyes narrowed in quiet thought after he had finished speaking. After what everyone had said, including his own logic, Barleytuft knew the conclusion that the Clan had reached: they would need to learn to tunnel again as StarClan intended long ago in their creation. Aspenpaw spoke once more, confirming what he had thought. They would test out tunneling. The medicine cat spoke of his condition and how it would prevent him from being able to dig himself, and he instructed that warriors needed to go with him to learn from their ancestors. A sinking feeling in Barleytuft's stomach made him realize that he really had no choice but to volunteer if he wanted to be able to save his Clanmates. He'd been so helpless when he was trying to dig his friends out of the sinkhole.

Much to his relief, Aspenpaw denied apprentice. Cloverpaw grumbled, "That isn't fair." The apprentice's face, however, still glowed at the idea that he might one day be not only allowed but encouraged to tunnel.

Grousefrost was chosen for the patrol, naturally, and a familiar voice from somwhere nearby volunteered as well. Barleytuft looked over his shoulder to see Elmskip's dark mottled pelt making its way unevenly through the crowd. The tom was missing one of his hind legs - he had been born without it - but he moved effectively enough. Barleytuft hoped his fellow warrior would find digging and burrowing easier than loping over the moors.

Once Aspenpaw had been joined by Elmskip and Grousefrost, Barleytuft stood. "I am going as well, if you'll allow me," he meowed. "If something happens, I need to be prepared." He glanced aside at Cloverpaw who was fidgeting impatiently, disappointing that he couldn't go but delighted that his father had offered.