the leaves have fallen

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Maple had been lulled to sleep on Smokefeather’s back by the sssssh sssssh sssssh of reeds against the fur of the wild cats, and had barely woken for days afterwards except to reject the offer of food. She didn’t want to eat the dead things that stared at her with empty little black eyes and tasted like no food she had ever eaten. She just wanted to lay weakly in her nest of reeds, eyes shut tight. If she closed her eyes she could imagine the lapping of the river on the shore was the lapping of mum’s tongue over her ears and the murmur of the wind in the reeds beside the river was the murmur of mum’s voice not so far away. 

If she closed her eyes it almost seemed like nothing had changed at all. But it was on this crisp night that Maple woke to her surroundings. She uncurled stiffly and rose unsteadily to her paws. She was thinned out under her red fluff to almost nothing in the past days. Weakly she fumbled her way to a gap in the weaving of reeds, blind as if sleep-walking.

The crisp air of night against her face opened her eyes. Maple looked around, though she could see very little except an empty clearing encircled by reeds, more weavings around the perimeter where the wild cats were probably sleeping... Gah! maybe not quite so empty, she realised as she tripped over a small pile of food with a gasp. She didn’t look down at the small thing whose cold fur her feet had brushed, and was forcing her fur down when she caught a familiar scent – pungent, oily and salty, delicious.

The up-walkers gave mum and grandma fish as a treat, the kittens always encouraged to try a bite. Maple remembered the promise of it making her big and beautiful and strong, her fur thick and glossy. But most of all she remembered her family clustered around the small porcelain dishes – she remembered a taste like home and it made her mouth water.

Maple picked up the small fish and padded over to where she could see the water shimmering through the reeds beside the weaving she had been sleeping in. She settled on the muddy bank in a little huddle of ginger fluff, her breath making clouds in the night air as she devoured her fish. It had a slimy skin she had to peel away to reach the soft meat and she almost choked when she realised it had bones in it, but Maple was too hungry and it was too delicious for her to care. This will make me big and strong as a tree, she thought, remembering mum’s words when she gave Maple her name. 

All the leaves had fallen from the trees now, a few now strewn across the ground – if Maple hadn’t been so far from home it would have been the strangest and most unexpected thing she had ever seen. Looking down at a fallen leaf at her paws she thought she was just like it – small and brittle and so unexpectedly far from where she had come from.

And then Maple looked up and saw the stars. What are those? she whispered under her breath, because there were no stars to see from the town. They seemed so far away and yet seemed as if they were keeping her company tonight. She stared in awe. Then noticing how they were reflected in the still pool, here where the river was shallow, Maple bent down to pluck each shining scale delicately from the skin of the fish’s remains and placed each one carefully on the water – her own stars to keep them company.

---

Eventually, Maple’s stars would sink and disappear into the blackness of the river and she would bury the bones of the fish in the reeds at the edge of the clearing. She would slink quietly back into the weaving of reeds and curl up beside Smokefeather, no longer moping in a corner alone, her face buried in the comfortingly familiar-scented pelts of her siblings. But for now she sat beside the river under the stars, with a full belly, feeling both numbed and refreshed by the cold night.

Smokefeather's eyes narrowed as she awoke in darkness, several bundles of fur curled up at her side. She'd taken to sleeping in the nursery, offering Redfall's kits a small sense of familiarity as they adjusted to clan life, and providing the occasional break for Blossomstep as she watched over her mate's young brother as well. She spent her days training Primrosepaw and hunting, hardly sparing a glance at the Riverclanners that had offered them their camp as shelter, nor even some of her own clanmates recently.

Smokefeather glanced down at the kits curled up against her side, noting the absence of one. Carefully she stood, gently tucking the others into the nest as she scented the air. Maplekit's scent was still fresh, she must've decided to get out of the nursery finally. To explore the camp or run? Not that the kit would make it far. Her refusal to eat and subsequently thin form was worrying.

Slipping from the den, Smokefeather followed Maplekit's scent- diluted as it was by not having been in Skyclan's care for long and through their current living situation- and pushed her way through the reeds on the edge of camp.

Tension Smokefeather hadn't realized she'd been carrying abruptly left her shoulders as she spotted the dark ginger kit crouched near one of the small pools, relief sweeping through her at finding little Maplekit safe.

"Maplekit?" Smokefeather murmured softly as she approached, calmly sitting next to the kit she was slowly starting to think of as her own. The kit had been eating, Smokefeather realized, noting the remains of fish. The bones looked like they'd mostly been stripped clean, the kit truly had been starving. A small smile flitted across her face. Even if it was fish, the kit had needed to eat something. Smokefeather hoped it was a sign of better things to come for her.

"Talk to me," She murmured gently, "what has you out here at this time of night?" Much like with her own kits, Smokefeather struggled not to coddle, but she would always give them an ear and listen if need be. Her tone reflected genuine concern for the kit who had mostly slept the past few days. Smokefeather couldn't imagine what they'd gone through, with their father (if he could really be called that) having dragged them halfway across the forest so young and without their mother, but the least she could do was try to listen and give comfort where she could.

 THIS TOPIC IS DISCONTINUED FOR THE MISSING KITS PLOT 

Startled by the sudden rustle of the reeds in the silence, Maple said nothing for a moment, but accepted the silver tortoiseshell’s calm presence gratefully, leaning her head hesitantly against Smokefeather’s shoulder once the two cats had settled side-by-side.

“I miss my mum. I want to go home, but I know we… can’t,” she mewed, her voice breaking on the last word. Though she had known it deep down when they left their mum in the alleyway, she had tried to memorise every turn in the road until they had travelled so far she didn’t know which way home was anymore, and all she knew was that she wouldn’t be able to find her way back – and that no one was going to come for them.

“But this – “ her ears swivelled to indicate their surroundings, “isn’t your home either, is it?” While Maple’s world felt like it had cracked and split and been lost, well, SkyClan’s forest home had literally burned to the ground. In a way, the most horrible way, she already had something in common with every SkyClan cat. Her …clanmates?

A shiver ran through Maple as she heard the word in the voice of the coldly spoken cat from their first day in the wild place. “What about – “, she couldn’t bring herself to call him her father, “ – Redfall. What does it mean… almost killing a clanmate?” Her kitten-blue eyes were round, innocent but worried.

Smokefeather lightly curled her tail around the shivering kit, gaze softening as she spoke. In time her memories of her previous home would become less distinct, she was sure, but there was little she could do or say to truly comfort Maplekit. Smokefeather took a moment to respond, carefully weighing her words before she eventually spoke.

"Home is where your heart is, kit." She sighed, "Skyclan was meant to climb trees, not skulk around the reeds and waterways of Riverclan's territory. Yet my clanmates are here, my friends, my mate and kin. So long as we have them, where we physically are is less important." Of course, Smokefeather wished to return to Skyclan's piece of the forest more than anything, and it was likely evident in her wistful gaze turned in the direction of their former home. They would return, one day.

"I know this is... a big change from what you were probably used to. It's okay to mourn for what you've lost."

Maplekit's words pulled Smokefeather back to the present conversation. Redfall, of course.

"As for Redfall... Sometimes even good cats can do terrible things. He hasn't been punished- Spottedstar was too weak to do anything- and Wrenspring is physically okay now. It'll take time for some of our clanmates to trust him again, though, and... I can't blame them for that. Still, that all happened well before your time. If anyone bothers you about Redfall's actions, you know where to find me." The ginger she-kit seemed to look the most like her father out of all her siblings. Yet she was not her father, and Smokefeather wasn't about to let her or her siblings be heckled for what Redfall had done before they had even come into this world.

 THIS TOPIC IS DISCONTINUED FOR THE MISSING KITS PLOT 

Maple was beginning to feel warm and cosy as she listened wrapped up in Smokefeather’s tail, letting herself be comforted by her words.


Her family might not all be here like Smokefeather’s, but Maple’s siblings were. That was important, she realised, and she had needed to be reminded of it. Mum had wanted to be here – and in a way she is, Maple tried to tell herself, an ache where mum’s paw had pressed to her chest when they said goodbye – right here, remember. 


It would have to be enough until Maple and her siblings were big enough to bring her back to SkyClan. A small frown furrowed the stripes on Maple’s brow, grandma might be too old to make the journey, and the up-walkers… a little smile curled across her mouth as she imagined the up-walkers all squished into this clearing.


But she was unprepared for being given the permission to mourn – it lifted a burden, unstuck something that had been built up, and emotion washed over her. Her kitten-blue eyes filled and over-flowed, tears streaking down her cheeks and dripping from her whiskers. It felt good.


Maple took a moment, as Smokefeather thought, to dry her eyes with a couple of paw swipes. “So Redfall is a good cat,” the last of the tension left her shoulders in relief and she settled her forepaws comfortably further under her belly, “and Wrenspring is okay.” In the end, that was all that mattered.


"Thank you," Maple mewed very quietly, and then sat quietly beside Smokefeather and looked up at the stars. There were so many stars, just as there were so many clan cats. “Who are your family, Smokefeather?” Maple asked curiously, pressing closer into the fluffy silver pelt. Smokefeather felt like a mum, she realised, not Sienna – but – motherly, nonetheless.

Smokefeather sat with the kit, saying nothing as she cried but gently lapping at the spot between her ears to offer comfort. It seemed as though Maplekit had needed to hear the words, and if Smokefeather could provide that small thing for her, it was okay.

The she-kit seemed to have relaxed at hearing that Redfall, for all of his many faults, was a good warrior. Of his physical skills there was little to doubt, but the tom had made mistakes. Including not seeming to care about his kits. From what little she knew about the tom, he hadn't enjoyed the company of kits much, and Smokefeather hoped that things would change when they were older.

Maplekit's next question shouldn't have been a complete surprise, given the topics of their conversation, but Smokefeather was glad to see the she-kit showing some curiosity about the cats she now lived with.

"Bloodstrike is my mate, and Beechpaw, Dustpaw, Primrosepaw and Dawnhawk are our kits. Bloodstrike has a little brother, Blazingkit, and their parents are Wolfcall and Blossomstep." She mewed.

"Wolfcall is our deputy, he helps lead the clan along with Spottedstar-" Not that Spottedstar did much leading these days, "-and Spottedstar's brother Sagelight is our medicine cat. along with Beechpaw, and they care for any sick or wounded cats." Sagelight had checked over the half-rogue kits and deemed them healthy, though it had been a struggle to get Maplekit to eat at first. Smokefeather hoped that talking with the young kit would help bring her out of her shell a little.