Tying Tattered Tethers [closed]

Some quarter-moon or so had passed since the bitter event of Barleytuft's death to greencough; other cats in WindClan still bore the more minor sickness, but the spread at least seemed to have slowed. Others were resting and healing with the help of the medicine cats. Gradually the weather was edging towards warmth again, though nights still yielded glittering frost across the moors, and any precipitation was more likely to be snow or sleet than plainly rain. Maybe some of the worst had passed. Perhaps WindClan would be on its way to recovery at the same pace that the forest recovered from the bitter cold of leaf-bare. Things would take time to get better, but they would get better - they were getting better. Clovertwist had felt it himself. He had taken the first two days to mourn alongside his family, but for better or worse he had inherited his late father's drive to keep moving, to keep caring for and carrying those who couldn't carry themselves. Indeed, after that time he slipped seamlessly back into warrior duties, hunting, patrolling, and training his apprentice when he could.

The young tom's heart still bore a heavy sorrow to know he would never again walk alongside Barleytuft with the roar of the Gorge in their ears, mist buffeting their fur, nor would he and his father share tongues - at least, until they met again in StarClan. The question of StarClan and where Clovertwist should stand in regards to their latest decree was still uncertain. "StarClan declared that this is the punishment WindClan would face for betraying StarClan. Their wrath saw Zinnia, Patrick, and the SkyClanners that now reside with us." Cats not born in WindClan... cats without WindClan blood... cats who have given their blood to the Clan... were being seen as traitors to WindClan, StarClan, and a stain on the forest. It felt wrong. It felt... very wrong, and yet hadn't Clovertwist spent his whole life raised to respect the warrior code? Finchstar had been a pretty relaxed teacher, but he had taught his apprentice the warrior code just like every Clan cat should. It had been clear that Clan cats should remain loyal to their Clans, but then why were they angry with Zinnia? She had no Clan to be loyal to before, so if she found her loyalty with WindClan, why was that not enough? Did rogue-born kits that the Clans cared for, at the behest of the warrior code, risk punishment as well?

The longer Clovertwist thought on these questions, the more he didn't know. He was afraid for his Clanmates who hadn't been born and raised on the moors, for though he loved them, he didn't know what was right for them. The one thing he knew was that he was loyal to WindClan and to StarClan. He had learned some moons ago that his mother, Graybriar, had come from SkyClan originally, but Clovertwist had only ever known WindClan and only ever loved WindClan. He had been born here. He had never feared or questioned his heritage or what it might mean for him, yet those thoughts had been slowly surfacing, just a flicker here and there - enough to make him worry. He missed his father. He missed Barleytuft. The senior warrior had always been a strong believer, a faithful tom; would he agree that Lightfang, Burningwolf, and Swallowflight had no place among the moor cats? Or Olivepaw? Or Patrick? If StarClan decreed it, would Barleytuft have agreed with it? Clovertwist would never know. That source of spiritual guidance had gone, his soul bounding among the stars, leaving his oldest living son - save for Briarthorn, Graybriar's only living child from her first mate - to desperately grasp at understanding.

As Clovertwist moved through a brightly lit late leaf-bare camp clearing, he found his paws half tangled with those thoughts, and perhaps by chance, or memory, or cosmic design, his pale amber eyes flickered from the ground straight ahead of him to the entrance of the medicine den. At first he glanced right back to the earth, but suddenly he stopped mid-step, two of his toes just about to lift off the ground, and he felt his gaze swing back to the medicine den. The medicine den... with medicine cats. Medicine cats, who were StarClan's chosen speakers. Aspenheart... the medicine cat... Clovertwist's uncle, as far as he was concerned. The young silver tabby warrior had missed the heartbroken and bitter words the medicine cat spoke after Barleytuft's passing; he did not know of Aspenheart's certainty that the old tom would deny their kinship in StarClan. To Clovertwist, Aspenheart was exactly that: Barleytuft's brother. Clovertwist's uncle. In some ways Aspenheart was like a brother to Clovertwist, too, but Aspenheart had always been so... so... aged. He was fragile in some ways, but he was ceaselessly resilient. He was seasoned; he was wise. He knew too much to feel like an equal to Clovertwist. He was a brother, or an uncle, or a father, or...

... or a spiritual guide. Clovertwist blinked and then turned his course to the medicine den. What had happened between Aspenheart, Softpaw, and Downpaw was done, but still he felt a little apprehension at the thought of entering the den and encroaching on the medicine cats' mending relationship. He wasn't sure if Aspenheart or Softpaw might hold any resentment towards him for not having been a more attentive Clanmate and kin. Still, Clovertwist knew what he needed: he needed guidance, and even if Aspenheart was as fallible as everyone else in the forest, the tom had sight. He had answers, or at least educated guesses. He had seen StarClan, and experienced them. He would know what to do... wouldn't he? Clovertwist pressed his nose into the pungent den. A hint of whitecough remained, and it made his stomach churn. He paused at the entrance and sought out the pale coat that he longed to see, to speak to. "Aspenheart? Are you around?" he asked into the den, trying to peer around some of the nooks in the den for the medicine cat.

Aspenheart picked at his claws dutifully, though it was no easy task with the now increased trembling of his paws. Whether it was the head cold that had finally set in or the lack of fresh-kill in his belly that caused the disturbances, he could not know for sure. It was logical that he continue to eat so he did not meet the same end as the other sick cats who could not respond to treatment. He didn't feel particularly hungry, nor did he feel entitled to food, not since his harsh interaction with Finchstar while mourning Barelytuft. Usually, Finchstar's hurt was tempered and quiet, laden with somber dignity. This pain was raw, and Aspenheart had rubbed salt in the wound. He found it difficult to participate in general WindClan camaraderie when such a key element was now missing. In some ways, Barleytuft was his link to the clan around him. It was enough to make him consider that no cat would spare him the time if not for his relationship to the senior warrior.

Isolation was a tiring thing. The past few days, his waking hours were spent mostly in the company of Softpaw and no one else. If he was consulted for medical reasons, he told his patients to mind their distance, lest they catch whatever worrisome disorder was filling the space behind his eyes with muck. He tried to keep himself on the marginal side of health, but his mind was failing him as well. As it turns out, prolonged seclusion wasn't exactly great for a cat's psyche. He spent his days organizing, cataloging, pacing, thinking, watching, teaching... occasionally eating and drinking. Sleeping was never something he was good at, so Aspenheart didn't fault himself on his lack of it. He often pretended he was talking to Barleytuft. When Clovertwist nudged his head inside, that was Aspenheart's current occupation. He sat in the corner, muttering to himself, and picking at his claws. The things he said to Barleytuft were sporadic and mostly incoherent, and mostly involved fervent apologies that the old tom would never hear. When he heard Clovertwist come in, he chirped in surprise and rose to his shaky paws.

"Am I around?" Aspenheart wondered out loud, grumbling as he fully stretched for the first time in a little while. "That's subjective, isn't it? My body is around, the rest is a little wishy-washy. Do you really need my mind, or is my corporeal form good enough for right now?" The medicine cat smirked at young Clovertwist, knowing from the look in his face that he would benefit from an ice breaker. He didn't need to be too professional with the warrior. They'd seen enough of each other to know better than that. The smile began to dim from his face as the joke ended. His muse came in waves these days. "I get the feeling if it was minor, you would've asked Softpaw."

There was a bit of movement at one edge of the den, and Clovertwist's eyes focused on the faint silvered silhouette of the tabby medicine cat he was searching for. Aspenheart was huddled into a corner focused on something, but as soon as the younger tom greeted him he seemed to stir and rose to his paws to turn towards his visitor. The gaunt tom's slightly hollowed face met Clovertwist's gaze, and despite the altogether a bit off look on Aspenheart's face the warrior felt a sense of relief simply at his responsiveness. In fact, he felt much more at ease with Aspenheart's philosphical pedantics than he might've expected. A feeling of familiarity settled over Clovertwist to be beside the older tom again, seeking advice and healing - not for his tail but for his spirit.

Clovertwist rolled his pale amber eyes and chuckled back, thankful for the return of the strange and stubborn stargazer's odd sense of humor - even though the situations which had forced him to return to his typical self were painful for everyone. Still, Aspenheart might've been a bit flighty in his fear, but he had never been stupid. The medicine cat asked, more or less, what was on Clovertwist's mind. At the mention of his young sister Clovertwist shook his head with a good-natured smile. "She's a good medicine cat apprentice and a great sister, but she's not the cat who saved me from being dog-kill. Y'know? I've known you all my life, and I trust you." His face furrowed slightly with a frown. He gave Aspenheart a look of concern. "Everything that's been happening lately, it... seems to me like it all started with StarClan. That's how it feels to me."

His kinked tabby tail twitched, and he asked, "The half-moon meeting made you and Softpaw not get along, and it was... because you guys disagreed about what was said, basically, right?" Clovertwist tilted his head slightly, examining Aspenheart with a look of uncertainty and curiosity. "I'm sure it's more complicated than that, but... I mean.. what happened? What does StarClan want?"

Aspenheart watched Clovertwist's body language as it devolved into worry, and in turn, his eyes shifted down to his own paws. The most frustrating thing was knowing he had nothing of substance to give his clanmates in the way of prophecies or messages. All he had was his own brain, from which he could derive theories and comfort, the latter of which was in short supply. He could at least try to offer his brothers something in a time of desperation, right? Aspenheart's paws shuffled loosely on the dirt below him of their own accord. There were words in there somewhere, if he dug a little deeper.

"Well, I'm glad you still feel comfortable asking, in light of... everything," he mumbled. It wasn't the place he necessarily wanted to start, but he couldn't not address the badger in the den. "My mistakes would have warranted a total cut-off. I wouldn't have held it against you. Regardless, you're here, and I'm here. Nobody can figure out how much time my stupid head is going to give me. With whatever time I have left, I can at least be slightly less of a foxheart." Aspenheart waited a few more beats, letting his eyes flutter shut as he mulled over the current events. "StarClan cut us off, the medicine cats. But before they did it, they made a point of warning us of what was to come. They want the Code to be followed as strictly as it was in the beginning, and they're going to make it happen by force. I personally think Torrentstar and Thornstar's little 'escapade' was the twig that broke the turtle's shell. I mean, that was a scandal for the ages. You don't see something like that every season, Clovertwist. Then, they told me that WindClan would suffer the worst. I assume it's because of cats like Patrick... like Zinnia... like Dappleshine. That's why I panicked. Softpaw defied them. I thought she might put us in danger. Finchstar, too. He has very loose ideas about what is forbidden and what is not."

Aspenheart rose to his paws, snorting mucus, and shuffled off to the side to retrieve some herbs for himself. He cleared his throat repeatedly as he grinded tansy between his molars and eventually swallowed. Returning to his spot, he continued. "I'm not judging him. He's the clan leader, but more importantly, he's his own cat. He will run the clan how he wants, and he does it without ill intention. I'd be a hypocrite if I said I don't read the Warrior Code with discretion. Do you want to know what bothers me?" He leaned in to punctuate his point. "It doesn't make sense. StarClan has never meddled in these things before. Not like this. Not so suddenly, for that matter. It makes me wonder... I don't know what it makes me wonder, but there's something wrong with it."

Clovertwist hadn't expected to find comfort when he came to Aspenheart's den; he hoped he'd find it by knowing what all had transpired, but the truth was that he'd expected to be disappointed or discomforted by the answer. The medicine cat didn't start with that, though. Instead, Aspenheart mumbled uncertainly and vaguely about his "mistakes" and what he deserved because of them. Clovertwist snorted, and he nodded firmly as the older tom said "Regardless, you're here, and I'm here." "It's hard to keep me out of this den," Clovertwist interjected with a dark laugh. Still, he composed himself as Aspenheart continued, listening with interest to what he had to say. Truthfully, it was... a bit over Clovertwist's head.

There had been a time when there was muttering about whether Cloverpaw would be better off training as a medicine cat if his recovery from the dog attack went poorly. The thought had never appealed to him, but at least that path might have given him some understanding of what Aspenheart was speaking about and what all the medicine cats were going through in the present. Clovertwist knew the medicine cats met at the half-moon to dream at the Moonstone - much like he had done before he earned his warrior name - and he suspected that StarClan "cutting off the medicine cats" meant they no longer received those dreams when they gathered. Clovertwist's silver face was dark with thought as he listened to the demands StarClan had made: that every cat obey the Code, and that it would be enforced - somehow. It was ominous.

The warrior continued to listen to his uncle's musings with a thoughtful expression, his pale amber eyes staring thoughtfully at the ground. When Aspenheart mentioned his concerns about Finchstar and his beliefs and their potential to endanger the Clan, Clovertwist's eyes opened wider and his head shot up to look with sharper interest at the medicine cat. "I've been worried about him, too," the warrior admitted. Aspenheart paced away to rummage through some herbs. He turned back a few moments later, smelling of herbs. Clovertwist sniffled slightly at the strong scent. Aspenheart went on about Finchstar, and Clovertwist nodded in agreement. That was part of his hesitation; wasn't it in the Warrior Code that Finchstar could run the Clan how he desired, and what he said was the Warrior Code? Was that still true if StarClan itself disagreed?

Aspenheart leaned in and reflexively Clovertwist did the same. The words the medicine cat spoke made Clovertwist frown, and he straightened up with a look of confusion. "I just - I thought StarClan always had a plan, or that they'd always protect us the best they could with dreams and signs and medicine cats and leaders and everything. Couldn't they have known Torrentstar and Thornstar were going to be all weird together and warned their Clans or something before it happened? And couldn't they just tell Finchstar he's not supposed to let loners in even if he's leader? Or - Or, I dunno, even tell Zinnia and Dappleshine and everyone that they're not supposed to be here?" Clovertwist sighed. "I mean, I... I don't want them to go, but... but I mean, if they were really supposed to, couldn't StarClan just tell them to?"

Aspenheart nodded, rhythmically and thoughtfully, as he mulled it over. There was so much he wished he could offer the young warrior. It didn't feel right to just tell Clovertwist not to worry. Of course he would worry. The times were worrisome. There had never been something like this, not in all of Aspenheart's life, nor in the lives of the elders or the senior warriors. StarClan had always made at least a little bit of sense. Though he tried his best to be sage and wizened, he felt a familiar indignant feeling well up in his throat. Why run from his own nature, anyway?

"Isn't it so odd, how none of it makes any sense?" he asked, the words tinged with laughter. "We've always been left to figure it out on our own, and then we face judgement when we die. They've always been upfront. The path ahead was clear. What good does it do to turn your back on the chosen messengers for the clans just because... what, because you're mad? Ha! I wish I could ignore my entire clan every time I was mad. You'd all start dropping like flies!"

Aspenheart dropped into contemplative silence again. His eyes remained trained on his paws as they pressed into the ground. Fidgeting helped very little to placate his mind. "That's what's so weird about it... never a good thing when StarClan starts going by my logic, is it?" He rose to his paws a little too quickly, bobbing up and down as he began to pace. "Tigers don't often change their stripes, and StarClan wouldn't just change their tried-and-true methods out of nowhere like this. Seasons and seasons, generations of cats, and all of a sudden the traditional way isn't working? That's not how that works!" His head swiveled back to Clovertwist. "So is it the StarClan we know? Or is it maybe something darker?"

Aspenheart's ears twitched and laid back on his skull. "I mean... that's a little crazy, but so is everything else lately, isn't it?" He shuffled back to his spot on the floor. He grumbled. "I hope I'm wrong. But even if I'm not, WindClan isn't some gentle kitty-clan. We always know how to wiggle our way out. If it really is something malicious, there's no reason the forest should go and crumble over it. It's a waiting game right now, is all."

Though Aspenheart nodded thoughtfully, the medicine cat didn't answer immediately, leaving Clovertwist to frown a little more deeply. He didn't even get the "StarClan works in mysterious ways" excuse that he was used to; no, his uncle was thinking of something. When the older tom finally spoke there was a dark chuckle on the edge of his words that made Clovertwist's fur prickle slightly. The warrior nodded along with Aspenheart's words. That certainly seemed to be how StarClan had always done things, following the same routine, but suddenly now it wasn't good enough. Clovertwist knew he was young, but he'd never heard of anything like it from the older warriors. He snorted at Aspenheart's dry joke about ignoring the Clan. "You'd miss us too much," Clovertwist told Aspenheart certainly.

But the medicine cat had gone quiet again, and Clovertwist did the same, his smile fading into solemness as he watched the tom's fidgeting paws. Eventually Aspenheart muttered dark concerns about the change StarClan had made. The medicine cat stood, and when he swayed Clovertwist reflexively reached out on paw to offer to steady him. As usual, Aspenheart didn't need it, and Clovertwist hardly thought about it as sat his paw down and watched his uncle pace and muse. Aspenheart's suggestion that maybe this StarClan wasn't what it seemed made Clovertwist bristle, his eyes widening. A connection of thoughts was made in his head. The warrior's face darkened slightly and, between Aspenheart's words, he muttered to his uncle, "Like the beast-cats in leaf-fall..."

It felt shameful and sinful to make such a suggestion, and Clovertwist's uneasiness was only compounded by Aspenheart's own uncertainty. Fortunately, though, Aspenheart was rarely stopped up by uncertainty. The medicine cat went on to speak of WindClan's strength and durability, and Clovertwist nodded and let out a somewhat defeated sigh. "I guess you're right," he replied to his uncle, scuffing a paw, "but I hate the waiting. I hated it when the beast-cats were prowling around, waiting to make a move on them while they kept making moves on us, and I hate it now that StarClan's angry with us, too."