Chancing Reconciliation [o]

Effects of a tired midnight’s decision had led him to the edge of the river. He’d placed his trust in Iniko, and the loner had not let him down. The kits were worse off - even stubborn Tigerkit had grown compliant from weariness, lack of sleep, and hunger. His shoulders dipped as he let out a silent breath. SkyClan scent was clear on the wet ground of RiverClan. This was the place. His stiff neck rotated around with loud cracks as he rotated his head and ears. Tired green eyes stared at the moon. It was dipping below the horizon, as on the other side of the sky, the sun slowly rose.  Sunrise patrols would be out, if he knew anything about SkyClan’s patrol schedule. RiverClan would have something similar, especially with the extra warriors from his Clan. Former Clan, he reminded himself harshly. Don’t expect them to welcome you back with open arms. The kits, that was the sole and selfless reason he was doing this. He would be fine if he was denied access as long as the kits were accepted. Fine. Wrenspring was something he was finally ready to come to terms with. Privately. Redfall wanted to let out tears, but he had spent long enough in the past. The kits needed him to be strong and they needed him now.

He took the moment to gather his thoughts and start the journey back to not-quite-home. The kits were padding around him, tired, not bothering to wonder about the slight lapse in their journey. “Stay close to me, we’ll be with others soon,” he said brusquely. “When you see someone, don’t talk - at all, or you’ll regret it.” In a few moons, anyway, as soon as he could arrange tick duty.

The tomcat had to admit the territory was beautiful. Leaf-fall heightened it. The canopy of trees was not impressive considering his previous territory (though anything was an upgrade from a burnt forest), but the rivers. Only just beginning to trickle back into the territory, little streams flowed around his paws, mud clinging to his claws. Dew condensated onto leaf-fall leaves. The sun was rising higher as they drew closer to his guess at the location of the camp. Backs of trees were dappled with silver as the fronts were bathed in gold. He scented the air frequently. After spending so long in the Twolegplace, SkyClan’s own scent seemed unfamiliar. It was wet, and harder to tell the difference between fresh and stale scent, but he eventually gathered that a patrol was moving their way.

It was closer than he thought, much closer than he thought. Redfall’s fur stood on end. He would look like an intimidating sight - muscled but lean due to lack of food, tangled fur that was growing longer for the coming leaf-bare, loner scent - RiverClan cats would almost certainly call him a rogue, or loner. SkyClan scents would have to recognize him by appearance and not scent. Even so, he looked different after the moons in the Twolegplace. Harsher, stronger. The kits were his saving grace in a way, the only reason he wouldn’t be chased out on sight.

Leaves crackled as a patrol emerged, making no move to disguise themselves. It was mixed, SkyClan and RiverClan. His mouth opened to say something as he swept the kits behind him with his tail. Only then did he realize he was unsure what to say. Redfall’s fur had instinctively fluffed up, and he forced it down, tail twitching agitatedly. Mixed sounds were coming from the SkyClan cats as he was recognized. He let it go on for a few moments before shifting backwards and curling his tail around the kits. They were held tight. He didn’t trust them to stay quiet, much less start playing. That would reflect badly on him. Redfall took a quivering breath. It was of even more importance to be seen as strong here. Weakness was intolerable, and emotion was weakness. His face stayed blank, but his tired eyes and the fatigued lines of his face could not be removed.

Honeykit was exhausted. The journey, at first, seemed excitable, however they had walked for so long that the she-kit thought that they had already arrived. "Redfall, where are we going?" Honeykit didn't think that "Dad" sounded right, since she barely knew the giant, red tom-cat at all. When he growled that they shouldn't say anything at all, Honeykit opened her mouth to fire back a retort, but then shut it when she remembered that Redfall was a wild cat who could easily squash the kits with one paw. Grumbling under her breath, the light-ginger kit huffed as they finally stopped. Before Honeykit could feel even a sliver of relief, a group of large cats came emerging out of the leaves. Freezing in shock--and a little bit of fear, though Honeykit would never admit that--the she-kit didn't move as Redfall used his tail to sweep her and her siblings into a small group.

Gingerkit was exhausted. They had traveled for what seemed like AGES. Through the familiar twolegplace, and into a nasty forest full of dirty, disgusting undergrowth and now into reeds that stabbed his paws as he wasn't accustomed to knowing where to place his paws... Redfall -their 'father'- had led them all the way here, along with another cat that Gingerkit didn't bother to learn the name of. It wasn't long until Gingerkit could smell the scent of many cats, and a fishy, oily scent that clung to the reeds like water.

His sister, Honeykit, spoke up, asking Redfall where they were going. Redfall answered with an admonishment to stay quiet. Gingerkit's fur bristled, the way their so-called 'father' spoke to them wasn't worthy of what Gingerkit thought as a father at all. If a father was supposed to be in any way like their mother, anyway. Maybe fathers were supposed to be harsher than mothers... It wasn't like Gingerkit would know. But he would find out soon enough, he supposed. Still, Redfall's harsh words stung.

It wasn't long after that they seemed to reach the place they were going. Redfall stopped, and swept all of them together with his tail. It was then that cats started to emerge from the reeds and Gingerkit looked up at them with wide eyes. They were all so... BIG! And they looked rugged, like Redfall. Rugged and scarred, in some cases. If Gingerkit had felt like speaking before this, now he was cowed into silence.

The wild place was the most beautiful thing Maple had ever seen or could even imagine. 
It was caught between day and night, fronts of the trees dappled gold while the backs were still silver. And the trees were Maple’s favourite, stretching high overhead across the sky, their dewy leaves underpaw. I understand! she wanted to tell her mum, I love it! She took big breaths of the crisp dawn air while her nose twitched at the scents. This was definitely the home of a lot of cats. But Maple wasn’t afraid, they had Redfall to protect them! …Though she had somehow expected him to look more at home in this place, and even the strong harsh tom looked weary. They were all exhausted.

And yet Maple felt more awake than she ever had. The streams they crossed were cool and clear and enlivening. They cleaned her roughed up pads while the mud soothed them. But it was more than only that, it was… everything.

Maple was too awed to make a sound even without Redfall’s reprimand. She dipped her head in deference, her green eyes round. His brusque tone was familiar by now, comforting in its own way. Mum’s sweetness earned Maple’s love; Redfall’s strength had earned her respect. Just now Redfall had scented something and his ginger fur stood up. As the leaves crackled and a group of cats emerged, he swept them all behind him, his tail curled around them tight.

Cued by Redfall’s reaction Maple’s already fluffy red fur fluffed up bigger and she peered over his tail, eyes darting from cat to cat.

Life in RiverClan was... interesting. Swansong still found herself seeking the shadows of trees - the sheer openness of the flats on RiverClan territory with patches of reeds that hissed in the wind strange and unfamiliar. So different to the quiet of the pines - more water and mud, rather than soft pine needles, though with the territories still recovering from the lack of rain it was more cracked and dry in places.

It didn't feel right to wander the territory alone, so she spent much of her time in RiverClan's camp, curious bits of shell and bright-coloured feathers woven into the dens catching her eye, little kits playing catch-the-fish - a RiverClan version of their own hunting games. There was beauty in this place, and she found even the scent of fish permeating everything had faded to barely bother her anymore, but... it wasn't home. She found herself straining to hear the pines sighing in the night as she lay in the dark, but the cold sough of reeds and distant trickle of water was all she found, the sharp scent of fir trees a missing part of her heart, aching in distant corners. The last she'd ever seen of their camp would forever be seared into her memory in leaping orange flames and choking smoke - the memories of which haunted her dreams of home.

She followed close beside the other cats on the patrol, silent as she tried not to step in muddy puddles, and forced to watch her paws more often than not. Perhaps that was why she didn't see him, or catch the vaguely familiar scent until they were barely tail-lengths away.

Her head snapped up, her eyes widening as the breath froze in her lungs. She couldn't forget, not even if he was covered in mud and his scent that of a twoleg bin - which it very nearly was. He looked worse than he had the last time she'd seen him, his pelt ragged, his eyes sharp. But she still recognized him. Yet her paws froze to the ground, a swirling lurch in her belly strangling her heart.

The apprentice she'd failed, the friend she'd let down.

Redfall....

Smokefeather had decided to join the patrol, very much sick of being in camp. She was slowly getting more used to being in Riverclan territory, though it certainly wasn't her favorite place in the world.

The fluffy, pale tortoiseshell had fallen into step beside Swansong, preferring to keep a bit closer to her own clanmates than those of the clan who had so graciously sheltered them. It was nothing personal, really, but between the unfamiliar territory and the camp overflowing with cats, Smokefeather was happier among what familiar things there were.

A scent caught her attention, and Smokefeather stopped a step short of where Swansong did, gray-green eyes narrowing on the form in front of them. One ragged-looking red tabby tom... An oddly familiar-looking red tabby tom.

Smokefeather hadn't known him well, but he'd been friends with Bloodstrike, or something approaching 'friend' at least. He'd attacked his own clanmate, and then left just days before the fire had struck Skyclan's territory. She'd seen how badly Wrenspring was hurt, had half-dragged, half-carried his nearly-dead form out of their territory alongside Swansong and some of the apprentices.

Her fur slowly bristled in anger at the memory. He had attacked a clanmate and then left, unseen for moons after. And now he showed up again?

"Why are you here, Redfall?" Smokefeather spoke, tone cool as she eyed the tom with a mix of wary apprehension and very real anger burning in their gray-green depths.

And it was then that she noticed the small forms that Redfall had tucked protectively against himself. Kits. Stars... The hare-brained tom had kits?

Her face softened slightly in understanding of the answer to her own question. She had kits of her own, though they were nearing the age where they'd become warriors sooner rather than later. Surely he'd want them safe in a clan, not living the harsh life of a rogue that seemed to be how he had lived recently.

But that wasn't her decision to make. Smokefeather glanced over at Swansong and the rest of her patrol, unsure what to make of the situation. Would Skyclan even accept rogue kits? It had never happened while she was alive, at least.

Two cats. Both SkyClan mollies. Not Wrenspring yet. That's good. Redfall's eyes observed the molly slightly to the front. He hadn't particularly known her or cared about her. Only three cats were in his inner circle, and only two of them were SkyClan. There may as well have been two anyway; he was sure Sienna would be long gone. She had moved with her upwalkers (did he have to call them Twolegs now?) somewhere in the city, or maybe not, but the whole problem was he didn't know where she was.

He turned to the next cat, and as his eyes found hers, he almost stumbled back. It had to be one of two cats that could make him feel regret, actual emotion. Exactly what he didn't want, but... he was glad to see Swansong. Or maybe not. His emotions were conflicted and he didn't know what to do about that. Get on with it. Smokefeather asked a question. You answer it. He was tempted to snarl a sarcastic remark at her, but restrained himself as her expression changed at the kits. "These are my kits," he said, shifting slightly so they could be seen better. "At the moment, we don't have a safe place to be, so..." He trailed off. If the kits weren't there, it would be a bit easier to talk about it. "I'd be able to explain more in camp, maybe with Spottedstar, assuming he's still... you know, alive and stuff." And hopefully get information on the fire.

The russet tabby glanced down and raised his tail, allowing the kits to be free. "Introduce yourselves if you'd like. Don't venture far." He looked from Smokefeather to Swansong, and back again. Smokefeather seemed to be more in the lead despite Swansong being the senior of the pair. "We've been traveling nonstop since last sundown. I can keep going but they need rest and food. Turn me away if you have to but take them." He would regret that. Selflessness wasn't something Redfall was known for. If he had to, he'd look for Sienna again. He wanted to be back in the Clan. It was the only life he wanted. Being a loner, scavenging for scraps in trash bins, was far from a fulfilling or healthy lifestyle. If he had to choose an end goal, he conceded it would be going down in battle for SkyClan.

Like he had taken to while living in RiverClan's territory, Wolfcall was out, alone, doing something in between patrolling and wandering aimlessly. He was considering returning to camp, spending some time with Blossomstep, when he stumbled across a scent. Not just any scent... rogue scent, several of them... but beneath it, something vaguely familiar that he couldn't place. The deputy's eyes narrowed. He wasn't a RiverClanner, obviously, and protecting their borders was a foreign concept to him, but currently, his family lived here, too, and their safety was his utmost priority. His territory or not, he wasn't about to let a bunch of rogues wander about unchallenged.

Quickening his pace, he followed the scent. It wasn't hard - whoever it was made no effort to conceal their path. But when the scent of fresh SkyClan suddenly came to him on a breeze, he slowed. He smelled Smokefeather, and Swansong, both strong, capable cats who could handle their own. Wolfcall flicked an ear, slipping into the bushes along the border as he headed in the general direction of the cats. When they finally came into view, he couldn't help but let a short growl of annoyance. Redfall? He was behind the former SkyClanner, and he looked past the tom to note his clanmates' reactions. Neither seemed terribly happy to see him, but they also didn't appear to be in the mindset of attacking him. That probably had something to do with the kits scattered at his feet.

Wolfcall remained hidden as Redfall pled his case to the two she-cats, and when he'd finished, the deputy stepped closer, finally into view. "How convenient that you return now, when you need something from SkyClan," he said coldly. "But I agree that it's best for you to come, and speak with Spottedstar, so he can hand out your punishment for nearly killing your own clanmate."

--

Tigerkit had plodded along without complaint, after his father and siblings. This journey had seemed fun at first, exciting, but now he was just tired, and despite the new things he'd seen and the promise of more to come, he just wanted to go home. He missed his mother, and Redfall had provided little more than orders and snippets of information. He wasn't kind, and caring, like mother had been. He had done nothing to allay their fear about the new and unknown. By the time they stopped, the two new she-cats ahead of them, Tigerkit was simply too tired to react. He just fell to his haunches with a world-weary sigh and hung his head, desperate for rest and sleep as his father conversed with the strangers. Their tones didn't concern him, but the fourth voice that entered the scene was much more concerning. The ginger kit turned to stare at another, larger cat that stepped out of the shadows, and his hackles raised in fear at the tom's expression, and he exchanged a glance with his siblings. Would they have to run? Fight? Newly awakened by this surge of fear induced adrenaline, Tigetkit waited.

She'd seen the wounds, heard the story - some part of her still couldn't believe it. Perhaps that was why she didn't speak. Or perhaps that was the ball of emotion tangled in her chest. The pit in her stomach didn't ease as Smokefeather's voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced over at the other molly. I suppose I ought to feel hostile, too. But she couldn't find it in her heart. It was more... more that she... wanted to know.

Her eyes came back to Redfall, pain hidden in them. His own face showed nothing as he replied, and she glanced at the kits around his paws in shock, seeing them for the first time. Kits? A new feeling slid in alongside the rest of them, a pang of sympathy at the tiredness on their faces, and the hollow uncertainty. They bore a resemblance to the russet tom, so were clearly his. She glanced up at him again as he spoke further, a small, melancholy twitch of amusement flickering inside her at his referral to Spottedstar, but dying a moment later. Redfall... Do you understand what you've done to us? Your friends? Your Clan?

She let her expression tighten for a moment as he went on to talk about the kits, the flicker of pain evident in the twitch of her tail. "Redfall-"

A voice brought her eyes twitching past him as the dark-pelted form of Wolfcall stepped out into view, and what she'd been about to say died on her lips. A feeling of helplessness swept over her, bringing with it a tired whisper on the edge of her mind. There is nothing to be done. Can you honestly defend him? Her eyes closed for a moment, and when she opened them they focused on a little ginger and white kit, his mismatched gaze wide with fear as he glanced at his siblings, all of them huddled around their father.

She cast a quick glance at Wolfcall and then spoke, keeping her voice low and gentle - calming - as she took a step forward and turned her attention to the kits again. "It's alright, we won't hurt you." Tired eyes flicked up to Redfall, and she beckoned behind at where they'd come from, the movement unhurried and fluid, hopefully keeping the kits at ease. Her feelings stayed hidden for now. One thing at a time. "Come, the camp is this way. Are your kits alright to walk by themselves?"

Though her first instinct would have been to help carry them, not all kits appreciated the offer to dangle helplessly from a strange cat's maw. Nor from their own parent's maw, for that matter. Her eyes wandered back to them for a moment. Speaking of which, they were missing one of those - couldn't their mother have come with them? The answer to that question likely wouldn't be a happy one. She shook it from her mind for now. One thing at a time.

Honeykit was definitely not okay with the situation. As young as she was, even she knew that Redfall was disliked by the three cats. At the tom-cat’s cold voice, the she-kit visibly shivered and took one, tiny step closer towards her father. Then, one of the she-cats tried to reassure them by saying that it was going to be okay. Piercing, yellow-green eyes finding the she-cat’s own, Honeykit studied her carefully. There was seemingly no hostility in her movements. Glancing towards her sibling, Tigerkit, the eldest of the litter flicked one ear questioningly, as if to ask the other why they hated Redfall.

For a moment, Maple had dared to see something good and hopeful in where the rupture of their world had taken them. And then the other cats saw them, and that moment ended.

The two mollies had frozen, open shock and hostility on their faces. What’s wrong? A lurch of confusion jolted Maple right down to her toes. Why aren’t we welcome?

This can’t be our home!

A silvery tortoiseshell saw the kittens and her grey-green eyes softened, but this was small consolation, and despite the desperation with which Maple clung to that gaze, it felt as if she was floating helplessly away from everything solid in the world. There was so little to cling to. She wanted her mum.


Then the third cat slipped out of the undergrowth, speaking so coldly it made Maple shiver. His words trickled like cool droplets of water down her spine, raising every kitten-soft hair. “Nearly killed?” Maple choked out under her breath, but it didn’t come out right and she couldn’t really understand the words, an incoherent mewl.

She had let mum comfort her, and the journey from mum had left her compliant. She had woken hopeful after sleeping on the stranger’s shoulders. But Redfall was dangerous, he would be punished.

Maple stepped away from Redfall, her tail brushing against her siblings and hoping they would follow. One of the silvery mollies was calmly coaxing the kittens towards her and Maple took a few tentative steps towards the pair until she was practically under their paws, the safest she could be at that moment. She looked up, baby-blue eyes shimmering with fear.

Smokefeather's eyes narrowed in disapproval as Redfall spoke. Travelling since last sundown, without stop? No wonder the kits looked absolutely exhausted. Smokefeather couldn't imagine putting her own kits through that, but then, they'd all been apprentices by the time the fire had forced them to flee their territory. These kits were far younger, that much was obvious. Redfall looked exhausted too, but he was fully grown and had the stamina to keep going when it was required. The kits did not.

It wasn't long before another cat showed up, and Smokefeather was content to allow him to take charge of the situation, trusting the deputy to do what was right. She had her own misgivings about Redfall, but he was still of Skyclan blood. He deserved to be punished for his crimes, not to just walk away as if nothing had been done. Still, Smokefeather doubted that it would be Spottedstar doing much of anything when it came to handing out a suitable punishment for Redfall, as Wolfcall's words had suggested. As distant as the deputy seemed to be lately, Spottedstar was even more distanced from his clanmates and was still injured, besides. Still, maybe the situation would be enough for him to actually do his duties for once rather than sit around and wait for the medicine cats and their herbs. None of her disgust for the tom showed at the mention of his name, though Smokefeather did have to wonder how Wolfcall was really faring with everything going on.

Stars, these poor kits... Smokefeather thought, watching their reactions to Wolfcall's voice. One of the she-kits, a dark ginger scrap of fur, mewled as she stepped away from Redfall's side to pad towards the she-cats. Smokefeather gently swept her fluffy tail around the kit, noting the way that she trembled as she gazed down into soft kit-blue eyes. The fear and exhaustion was almost painful to see on the fluffy kit. The kits were young, impossibly young for whatever place the tom had taken them from.

"Just a little farther and then you can rest, little one. You're safe with us." She said quietly. Safe enough, anyways. The life of a warrior was harsh, Smokefeather knew that firsthand, but it was far better than living as a rogue with no clan for support or protection.

"They look like they've been through enough travel, it would be no trouble to carry them." Smokefeather added her soft voice to Swansong's.

Gingerkit looked up at the cats with wide eyes. These were Redfall's cats. He obviously knew them; this was where he had been taking them. When the black and white cat stepped out of the reeds, Gingerkit crouched, moving closer to his littermates, if not towards Redfall himself. The black and white cat didn't welcome Redfall at all; in fact, he said something about - almost killing someone - clanmate? If that was anything like a littermate, then that was something twice as awful as normal killing!

He looked over at Willowkit and Maplekit, noticing Maplekit moving away from Redfall. He followed her, sticking up his head and forcing himself to be strong for his littermates. He gave Maplekit a sidelong glance, his tail sweeping across the reeds to rest on her back, in a show of silent support. Tigerkit was looking at them concernedly, and Maplekit met his gaze, hoping to somehow comfort the fear Tigerkit had in his eyes.

Maple’s small tired body ached with relief when Ginger followed her decisively, head sticking up in bravery. She met her brother’s side-long glance with gratitude, happy at the supportive touch of his tail on her back. She gave him a small lick on the cheek, feeling the least alone she had since leaving their mother. Together they met the frightened eyes of their siblings with bright, reassuring, hopeful gazes. It’ll be okay, Maple thought. That was when she noticed her little fluffy legs were wobbling beneath her, and she looked down at her paws, concerned. 

The relief had flowed all the way into her toes and was pooling there. It felt like her legs were swimming in it. As the silver tortoiseshell noticed her shaking and swept out her tail, Maple sunk into the ground. It was damp, smelling of wet and earth, and Maple was still trembling with overexertion. But it felt like the comfiest place in the world as she let the blackness curl around her.

Despite the previous drought and fire, Riverclan territory still managed to be sticky and sodden. He hated the feel of it underneath his paws. The strange creatures here, ones that would chomp off paws and hold on tight. Wrenspring felt lucky to still be able to use his forepaw after their ordeal with the turtle, as he had come to know it was named. Ugly rock monster was a better name, in his humble Skyclan born opinion. The fresher wound had prevented him from temporarily throwing himself into any of the clan patrols that went out. Thankfully, it seemed like the medicine cats had done a good job healing it up and preventing pain. With such a recovery, the warrior had been trying to make himself useful. At the outskirts of camp was where he sought to find any bit of prey scrabbling about.

It was after a long hard search that he'd stumbled upon a tiny vole, managing to catch it under a pad, and finish it off with his teeth. The walk to their freshkill pile wasn't that far. Passing reeds and having them brush his fur sent a chill down the grey and white warrior's spine. Fur raised and he shook his coat. Green eyes surveyed the camp and his tail dropped as he settled for stooping at the meager pile. There wasn't a day that passed where the tom didn't long for the stretching pines of Skyclan territory. But reality would always set in and remind him that what he pictured would now merely be charred twigs, stretching towards the sky in a futile cry for help. His gaze trailed to the skies, imagining the camp and territory too far off in the distance to see.

Something caught his eyes, cats returning from patrol over the distance. Only... a rock stuck in his throat. There was an all too familiar russet pelt among the group. It was good the vole had been previously dropped, or it would have fallen to the earth with his slacked jaw. Redfall. The wounds had healed but somehow, they still stung as he stared at the tom. It took a moment before he even flicked his crooked tail, or twitched an ear. Wrenspring was simply frozen for a moment. After everything, after coming to terms with what had happened... his jaw clenched. Churning emotions wrestled around in his chest but it was all crushed underneath an exhausted defeat. There never had been any fight in him on the subject and it failed to appear now, especially as he caught sight of their accompanying clanmates.

Kits.

Great Starclan, Redfall had left and come back with kits. He had to blink a few times to shake himself from the accompanying haze. There was no doubt their parentage; his former friend was a father. And, Starclan, they reminded him so much of kithood. Wrenspring followed, catching the look on Wolfcall's features. He briefly sought Smokefeather's gaze, eyes shining with unintentional gratefulness, before he whipped his head back to the deputy. The warrior slowly padded over, an unusual stiffness to his movements, "Wolfcall... the kits. I can look after them if they need someone. They don't deserve to suffer the consequences of - their father's actions." A choking breath was forced down his throat. Suddenly, it felt as dry as the lands from which they hailed.

Wrenspring was only able to fix Redfall with a glossed over gaze for a moment before flickering it away. His injured paw pressed to the ground as he straightened up, the pain forgotten, "Tell Spottedstar I'll stand for them. Their father, I can't make any promises." The words were filled with resolved, yes simultaneously low and deflated. The tom's turned his gaze to Smokefeather and the exhausted brood of half-breed kits. Softening, he stooped to nose the kit across Smokefeather's back into a more comfortable position. Mumbling lowly, "Come on, I'll help get nests together for them."