New Skies on the Grass (Open)

It was getting dark- the moon had started to rise and the sun had started to set on the grassy lands of WindClan. The grass felt weird beneath her paws as she traveled aimlessly across the expanse. It was so different than the lands of SkyClan, the ground was so much more brittle. However, she did like the open expanse of the territory. No more claustrophobia on the ground. But oh, she would miss the trees so. Perhaps there was a tree somewhere she could find. Somewhere out there, there had to be a tree of some sort.

Truth be told, Burningsun didn't know where she was going, but she didn't let her mate and his brother know that. She limped along, tasting the air for trails and scents. Following the strongest ones, she hoped she would eventually make it to where the WindClan cats resided. Where hopefully she and her followers would reside.

Her heart leaped as she heard soft murmuring just below a crest. Picking up her pace, she broke the top and started down the pathway into camp. Something reeked- but she ignored it. Finally she stumbled into the grassy clearing, finding eyes turning around stunned. Before anyone can react, she called out. "We come in peace! It is just me, Burningsun, my mate Lightfang, and his brother Swallowflight. Is Finchstar around? It is really urgent." she asked no cat in particular. With her heart skipping in her chest, Burningsun stood there as tall as she could, the scrape on her shoulder slightly woozing blood still from the continuous movement of the day. Weariness ached in her bones.

"Burningsun? Lightfang? Swallowflight?" Ploverpuddle didn't really know these names but he knew they were Skyclan. His yellow eyes scanned the cats that had walked into their camp, noticing the wound on Burningsun's shoulder. He turned his head back to the others. "Someone fetch Aspenheart as well please."

He approached the cats without much of a concern. They said they were peaceful. With the foxes around he was thankful they made it to safety alright. "Someone will fetch Finchstar for you momentarily. What brings you here?" He could hear Finchstar mention something about 'more wondering souls' in his head now once his leader saw the three cats. "Is everything alright with Skyclan?" He couldn't help but be concerned. His remaining kin was in that clan.

Lightfang had never thought the absence of trees could unsettle him as much as climbing one, but here he was, bristling like a bur as he padded across the moor. The scents of predators and enemy cats (no, WindClan; not the enemy) mingled in the air, yet the hills before them were utterly abandoned. Empty. His paws, toughened by moons of navigating rocks and roots, slipped amidst the heather. He barely felt them, barely felt the dried blood and small, aching scratches on his stomach. It was impossible to care about those things when Burningsun was bleeding and Swallowflight was broken and Arno was across the forest, on the run for the rest of his life.

The walk was grueling, but it had helped Lightfang decide one thing. Rather than lead the crumbled remains of his family, he would stand steady at their backs—a light in the darkness, bright as Burningsun believed him to be. Shining and strong. Every step embedded that thought further into his head until it was all he could hear.

Suddenly, WindClan’s scent was almost unbearable. No wonder; one look around confirmed they’d wandered right into WindClan’s camp. Coming to a halt at his mate’s side, Lightfang fought the urge to wrinkle his nose as he surveyed the fluffy gray-and-white tom who had come to interrogate them. He knew Finchstar from Fourtrees and the mountains, but Aspenheart… Though Lightfang had been sure to keep track of the medicine cats at the last Gathering, he hadn't caught any of their names. ”SkyClan is fine,” he said quietly, making an effort to keep his fur flat as he met the WindClan tom's eyes. Better to let Burningsun or Swallowflight explain things. He would keep an eye out, as he always did. If this place was anything like where he'd grown up, they were as suspicious of him as he was of them.

Swallowflight remained silent for most of the dreary journey, his eyes glazed over and blank. He was there physically, padding alongside his brother and his mate into their new lives, but his mind was back in Skyclan territory, desperately trying to convince Arno to come with them. The scene replayed itself like a broken record; the cream tabby was unable to will it away, so it repeated over and over in his head, engraving itself into his brain. As long as he lived, he would never forget the events that transpired. When pain wasn't possible, the wound would suddenly tear open and he'd bleed once more. In the darkest of nights, when sleep was far, the thoughts would spring on him with merciless teeth and claws and rip apart. He would carry this burden for the rest of his life, just like he carried the thought of his mother, worried sick, and his disowned sister running about in Shadowclan. No, he would definitely never forget Cardinalpaw. The way she smiled and feigned her innocence after betraying them, the way she had their entire family wrapped around her pretty little paw was...sickening. 

The transition between the rocky and forested territory turned into deserted, rolling moors was foreign enough to knock him out of his daze, at least for a moment. He looked around in wild confusion, eyes narrowed and his body tensing involuntarily. The stench the Windclan cats carried got stronger as he trailed behind Burningsun, and he couldn't keep his pelt from prickling. What if they turned them away, with new injuries at that? Where would they go then? Could they run off with Arno, then? His mind raked through the possibilities until he suddenly found himself standing in the middle of the moor cats' camp. He blinked, quite startled. When did they arrive? Had he not noticed? Most likely, he was so prone to get lost in thought now that he had plenty to think about..he breathed deeply, as if it would put the thoughts that buzzed around his mind to rest..

”What are these strangers doing here, Ploverpuddle? They smell weird.” Crowpaw padded up beside his mentor, fur fluffed with excitement. He wondered what Clan they were from, if they were from a Clan. Outsiders weren’t supposed to be let into camp, but since Ploverpuddle was greeting them politely, the dark tom figured it was alright. SkyClan? So these newcomers were from SkyClan! Sniffing, he tried to memorize the scent, keep it for when he might need it.

Hearing the commotion, Goldengale approached quickly only to be greeted by a strange sight. Three SkyClan cats, covered in fresh wounds stood in the middle of their camp, and as she registered that one of the small figures closest to then was her son her fur bristled and she moved to stand protectively at his side, taking a defensive stance. As Ploverpuddle responded, Goldengale leaned down to her son, her eyes never leaving the she-cat's face. "Crowpaw, could you go fetch Aspenheart, and then Finchstar please? Tell them there are strangers who need medicine cat attention in the middle of our camp, please."

Hoping that her son would listen and do as he was told, even if it was selfishly in part as a desperate bid to get him away from these strangers, and any danger they might pose, she straightened back to continue to stare at the newcomers. They would have to go through her before laying a paw on her kit, or anyone else in WindClan.

The white-patched apprentice shot a glance at his mother, before shrugging, bounding off to do as he was told, though his ears pricked in an attempt to hear what they would talk about, and he constantly stole looks over his shoulder. As he entered the pungent-smelling medicine cat’s den, he called out. “Aspenheart? There are strangers in camp, and they have fresh wounds.” He stood anxiously, shifting his paws, hoping the tom would come quickly so that he could hurry back to the center of camp.

It was much too late in the evening for commotion like this, yet it was here. For a moment Barleytuft feared that the foxes had returned to the camp, simply waltzing in and stunning them all the death, but when he rounded the bend to see the visitors he saw only a cluster of tabby cats with powerful SkyClan frames. The senior warrior blinked as he moved closer and took in the scene. Crowpaw, at his mother's behest, had gone to fetch Aspenheart for the injuries the strangers bore. Ploverpuddle and Goldengale both had approached and had their watchful eyes on the anxious and battered forest cats.

The pale tabby tom approached them, noting the battered cats' shifting eyes and anxious, unsteady stances. "You must have gone through quite a bit to be looking so urgently for a foreign Clan leader in a strange territory," Barleytuft observed, looking towards the leader's den where Finchstar would likely soon be emerging. He looked back and rumbled, "You can all relax a little; whatever you're here for, Finchstar will hear you out."

A short distance away Cloverpaw had approached, too, and he padded swiftly to Ploverpuddle's side. The apprentice glanced from the WindClan warrior's worried face to that of the strangers, and suddenly the silver tabby tom recognized one of the group. "Swallowflight?" he asked, taking a step towards them with his kinked tail twitching anxiously behind him. Cloverpaw's pale eyes suddenly became crisp with concern. Oh, no - what's happened?

The soft pitter patter of paws echoed through camp, and suddenly Crowpaw was running over the grass. Finchstar sat in the sand with Aspenheart, drawing out lines in the sand, planning for war. The small tom skipped to their sides and spoke of strangers, Finchstar's ears perked and he glanced to his medicine cat and friend. "We can continue our plans later, friend, perhaps I should go welcome these strangers. Crowpaw? Would you follow Aspenheart as he fetches his herbs? I very much appreciate your speed and diligence." Finchstar nodded to Aspenheart and the 'paw, curiosity growing with each passing second.

Brushing the sand from underneath his pads, Finchstar weaved through the grass but didn't have to go far. Three new visitors stood in the entrance of camp, already having gathered a sizeable audience. Barleytuft's voice echoed the tail end of Finchstar's name, and the leader padded up behind him, concern in his eyes. "Burningsun, Lightfang, Swallowflight?" Each title came from the leader's maw as he caught note of them at gatherings. He didn't know these SkyClan cats well, however the wound on Burningsun's shoulder sent chills down his spine. Immediately his thoughts fell to Tinystar and the current state of the clan. The tom's eyes flashed as he padded into the circle that had now formed around the group. "Is everything alright? Is SkyClan in trouble?" The urgency in the three SkyClan cat's eyes was telling, but they seemed wary as well. Perhaps it was the feeling of being in a new camp. Finchstar opted to remedy it quickly. "You can let your fur lie flat, I have no quarrel with you, and only wish to ail whatever troubles you. Burningsun, let Aspenheart take a look at that shoulder."

As more and more cats crowded around Burningsun her head swirled and the screaming voices of her clanmates, well, ex-clanmates roared around her to the point she could hardly hear the WindClan cats. The voices, roaring like a thousand lions and her eyes changing to those former clanmates around her, pressing in on her and hungry for blood.


The orange cat swayed and closed her eyes, leaning against Lightfang and ignoring the questions around her. Not to be rude, but she had to. It felt like a year went by before her eyes flew open to see Finchstar in front of her. Her multi-colored gaze widened and she jumped to attention, cringing at the feeling of the wound but ignoring it. "SkyClan is... sort of in trouble." She started softly, painstakingly ignoring his offer for treatment in the name of getting the story out there. "We aren't under siege by anyone but our clan leader." The former SkyClan warrior raised her head from the down trodden position it had been in. "After the Gathering where you called out Tinystar for killing Sparrowpaw, Sparrowpaw too visited me in my dreams. She told me her story and asked me to hold Tinystar accountable. I did so. I called the entire clan to gather, and allowed for Tinystar to speak his truth - I held a trial, and our former medicine cat Amberdawn spoke of what she knew. During the Trial, Mintwhisker came back and... made things worse. She claimed Sparrowpaw attacked her, but nobody but her and Tinystar knew about that. I- I called for his demotion and a life being taken away from him, but I let him choose how. The clan voted not to demote him. But, but but Finchstar, I, I, I, I had to take a life from him. It was what StarClan wanted. It was justice." Her voice wavered and her body tensed with the emotion, trying desperately to hold it all in. It felt like just her and Finchstar. Every other cat was miles away. "The entire clan thinks of me as the murderer. They called me the heartless impostor, the monster. For a while before Mintwhisker left, I knew I couldn't get medical treatment. I have lived every day of my life scared of Tinystar and his dedicated followers. Lightfang spoke out, Tinystar probably wants to kill him too, and Swallowflight is his brother. Finchstar- if we stayed in SkyClan- if you send us back, Tinystar will.... kill us." The eyes staring at Finchstar was one of pure desperation. She laid her entire story out to the leader - to all of WindClan - and what they decided in the next few seconds would deem her entire life fate. What if they too, saw her as a monster? An Impostor Agent of StarClan? What if Finchstar marched them right back into Tinystar's claws? Her heart raced in a way to match the Trial day itself.

Crowpaw padded after Aspenheart, relieved when he was able to return to the small gathering of cats in time to hear Finchstar and the newcomers speak. His ears pricked with interest, and he leaned closer, though his paws never left their place on the ground, near his leader and medicine cat. A leader killed a cat? A life for a life seems fair, so why would SkyClan be against this cat? It’s not like Tinystar had none to spare, anyways.
The dark apprentice curled his tail, head tilted. Then again, I don’t know the whole story. Cats can lie. What if Sparrowpaw was a traitor or a murderer herself? It seemed like an exciting mystery, one Crowpaw almost wished he were involved in.
He wasn’t, but he might be one day. The odd-eyed young tom looked into the similarly multicolored gaze of Burningsun. All he saw was desperation, panic. The she-cat had come this far, she seemed truly scared. Why would she lie to a Clan not even involved?
Crowpaw smiled to himself, pleased to have figured out, in his belief, what would come next. Surely Finchstar would see that these cats were in need of help, and, if not let them stay permanently, give them shelter until they were back on their paws. The newcomers could prove to be interesting friends, but he decided to hold off on speaking and see what happened next. His eyes were bright with interest, and his tail flicked, eager, as he glanced between the former SkyClanners and his leader.

It felt as if half the Clan followed on the first warrior’s heels. An apprentice (apparently named Crowpaw) peered at them curiously until another warrior, this one a tall, striped she-cat, dismissed him to find Aspenheart and Finchstar. Next to arrive were a scarred pale tabby old enough to be a senior warrior and a younger silver tom with a crumpled tail and, apparently, some familiarity with Swallowflight. The pale tabby’s reassurances didn’t ease Lightfang’s nerves, though he made a conscious effort to loosen his grip on the camp’s sandy ground anyway. Even if Finchstar approached them with open ears, their shelter here would be temporary at best. Just as part of him lingered as far back as Highpine itself, the rest of Lightfang’s mind was eight steps ahead, wondering what would happen after, after, after. There was perilously little of him left to worry about now.

Burningsun’s weight settled against his side. However panicked his thoughts became, she could always call him back. Lightfang inhaled deeply, closing his eyes; then he looked up to see that Crowpaw had returned, successful in his search—and standing with him now was the one moor-cat Lightfang recognized. It was strange to see a leader level with him, breathing, neither branches nor Great Rock pushing them up. Finchstar echoed the pale tabby’s earlier words: ”I have no quarrel with you.” Lightfang gave no response save for a vague flick of his tail to indicate he was listening. The fur at the back of his neck continued to prickle.

In a voice that reminded him too much of Moonlit Creek and blood washing past, Burningsun explained why they’d come here. Redwing’s death went unmentioned. Instead, she spoke of the trial and the fear that had followed them since. At that, Lightfang had to wonder. Burningsun had been so quick to suggest running to WindClan… Just when had that plan taken shape? Still, he remained steady, ever conscious of how Burningsun faltered on one side and Swallowflight waited on another. He wanted to make more arguments in their defense; the best he could come up with was we can hunt and fight for you. With how different the moor was from their—from the forest, he couldn’t even be certain of that.

At last, Burningsun said it. The most likely after. Lightfang raised his head further to meet Finchstar’s yellow eyes with icy blue and took a single step forward; though most of him was still pressed to his mate's side, he had placed himself the slightest bit between WindClan’s leader and the remnants of his family. It wouldn't be right for Finchstar to call Burningsun a murderer when he'd revealed the injustice himself; unfortunately, "wouldn't be right" didn't mean much. This time, Lightfang was prepared. His claws were sheathed but ready, paws shifting as he awaited the leader's response.

Kill? Tinystar? Ploverpuddle was confused, and concerned. Was his kin, his half brother really that cruel? He didn't know if he should believe the word the orange warrior was speaking. If a trial had occured then why would Tinystar want to kill these warriors? If he didn't want them around he could have chased them out the second a trial was mentioned by the cats. The leader didn't have to go through with the situation. From what he knew of Tinystar the Skyclan warriors words didn't match the short tom he knew. But... Ploverpuddle knew the Tinylegs from many moons ago. When he first became a leader.. things could have changed for the worst.

The gray tom pressed himself slightly against Cloverpaw's side, trying to find comfort as his mind warred about what to believe or not. To believe the cats story or not. Was his former clan really such a mess? Should he have returned all the moons ago instead of coming here? Would him being in Skyclan change anything that had occured? His gaze fell away from the Skyclan cats, going to the ground. He didn't know what to think.

Cloverpaw was relieved and surprised when the cream tabby tom relaxed ever so slightly after finding him in the crowd. Swallowflight seemed suddenly much more at ease, the SkyClan cat's face lighting slightly with a smile. Cloverpaw felt his heart flutter a little and his own reassuring smile spread across his face. Their eyes locked and the silver tom tried his best to convey the meaningfulness of their friendship through his expression. Though Swallowflight took one step forward, he hesitated and then drew back again to be beside a tom who looked nearly identical to him. They must have been kin. Cloverpaw nodded once; he understood. I'll go and find Swallowflight after all this, whatever this is, Cloverpaw promised himself.

Barleytuft didn't know what to make of these newcomers on his own; the only real experiences he'd had with SkyClan were the stories he'd heard through others. His mate, Graybriar, had been born in SkyClan but was guided to WindClan by a prophecy. Puddlepaw, though she had passed before she could receive her warrior name, had also been born a SkyClan cat who eventually found her way to the moors. The tom wondered what seemed to guide the tree-dwelling cats to the bare grasses of WindClan. The looks of concern and discomfort on the tabbies' faces reflected how Barleytuft thought he might feel if he were expected to just be happy under the canopy of the forest. Finchstar appeared, taking the burden of authority from the senior warrior.

Even Finchstar's reassurance of peace seemed to do little to comfort the cats, but at last the most vibrant of them - a flaming golden tabby with blue-and-green mismatched eyes - jumped slightly and seemed to realize the authority before her. Burningsun's explanation was rather shocking to Barleytuft. He knew from the Gathering prior that Tinystar had been subjected to a trial by his own Clan, and that they had sentenced him to lose a life. There had been talk that the leader's scar hadn't even fully healed, and while most believed it was because Tinystar was quite advanced in age, some rumored that the short-legged white leader hadn't fully healed because he wasn't fully forgiven.

Cloverpaw, too, had heard such a rumor, but he hadn't been present at the Gathering due to his recovery and had merely heard of the events after they'd occurred. The SkyClan she-cat's dark words, to the apprentice, seemed to leave more holes than they filled, and he felt Ploverpuddle leaning into him ever so slightly. The silver tom looked slightly up at his companion with a look of thoughtful concern on his face. Cloverpaw leaned back, brushing his sleek fur against Ploverpuddle's thicker pelt. "Hey... You okay?" he asked under his breath as his friend's face fell towards the ground.

When Burningsun had finished speaking, Barleytuft frowned further. He looked towards his leader and thought what they were likely both thinking: If history tells us anything, it's not unlikely that Tinystar might kill another. But still, something didn't line up. The senior warrior hadn't been there for the trial - none of WindClan had, of course. Barleytuft asked Burningsun with shock and dubiousness - or Finchstar, seeing how the SkyClan cat seemed so deeply invested in speaking to the leader only - "What do you mean, you had to take a life from him? Are you sure that was what StarClan asked for?"

Cloverpaw didn't like that train of thought. Hadn't his father heard what Burningsun said? Couldn't he see their condition? "How could their own medicine cat deny them healing?" the silver apprentice wondered softly.