winds of change | RiverClan's Deputy 2021

A grave procession of circling crows heralded Jaystar home.

Watery dark smudges of fleeting dark feathers drifting high upon the honeyed morning sky, serenading the chilly frost-bitten earth with lonesome calls of camaraderie towards their equally dark earth-bound companion. The unusual flock of specters had descended upon him shortly thereafter his emergence from the gaping wound against the rigid spine of the ancestral mountains, and had remained in steady company through perilous treks across desolate lands fraught with strange monsters, open moorlands touched by the sweet traces of seasonal decay, and now through the final runs of his familiar home-grounds, awash with the lingering brushes of frost and long standing tensions. Delicate dark feathers blotting out the watery light of the rapidly gathering dawn as the magnetic distance between his weary paws and the sanctity of the secluded island, partially healed wounds slipping seen and unseen through thick dark fur with the grace and refinement of an old river itching and prickling at the descent of electric tension weighing heavily upon his tense shoulders.

Of all his sudden disruptions and disappearances from routine life in RiverClan, this would certainly be the most... eclectic.

It hardly felt as though a triumphant return to brush through the welcoming embrace of the protective reed barrier, hardly felt as though it was some grand prophesized homecoming to return as the newly-christened Leader of RiverClan. It felt remarkably similar to how it originally had upon his initial reception just a few bloodied sunrises prior, trespassing upon the sacred grounds of a long-forgotten graveyard. It always felt wrong, and perhaps it always would. Shambling steps were taken forward in a careful synchronous procession of exhaustion-fueled movements, muscles stiff and adorned with the chipped crown of lasting warfare; torn tender undersides of the paw leaving simmering smudges of blood upon the gold-wreathed earth, ​dark and irregular tears against the trammeled laurel of the freshly-dawning morning sky. "RiverClan!" Jaystar bellowed out upon the frosty morning air, heavy summons curling skyward on a steaming cloud of hissed breath, tense with the weight of the... unusual conversation to had in the ensuing moments.

There was something strange in the air, and Perchfall could feel it ever since she awoke that morning.

After the disappearance of Ivystar, the mood of RiverClan had been cold and grim, just like the incumbent weather. Leaf-bare threatened even harder times than before, and skirmishes with other Clans threatened territories that held needed prey. Even the most optimistic of the Clan were having a hard time. Perchfall had never been optimistic, though. She'd always been silent, like a stone in the river, when others were hopeful for better times or pessimistically accepting their doom. In fact, that was how she faced most of life. If one was a stone in the river, then life would rush right past you. It would smooth down the rougher edges, push you down into the depths, but once you stayed down, it would leave you alone. You would be part of the background... safe, unnoticed, alone. Unless someone scooped you out of the river.

Jayshriek's voice was not one she had been expecting to yowl out, breaking the early morning silence that was her favorite part about being on the dawn patrol. Instead of the traditional summons, a single word pierced the air, with the characteristic loudness for which he had been named. Jayshriek, indeed. The stoic she-cat hadn't been sure what to think when he had returned, out of nowhere, riding in on the wind like some forgotten leaf of a season long past. It was after he had arrived that things had gone from bad to worse... and now, with his screech from the Willow Branch, Perchfall felt a strange chill creep up her spine.

Still, she sat obediently where the summons called, looking up with no outward emotion other than a slight curiosity at the turn of events. Inwardly, her stomach churned, turning over and over like a fish in the rapids. Nothing good ever came of these feelings of dread. With a sinking sense of resignation, Perchfall acknowledged that things in her Clan might never be the same again.

Stormbringer was a little confused when she heard her son's voice. The older queen pushed herself to shakey paws and pulled herself out of the nursery. She didn't know how to feel to see her son up on the Willow Branch.. Relief was the first thing knowing he had disappeared again but he was here once more. Next was confusion.. did he know something they didn't? If so why didn't he discuss it with Dewlight? Amber eyes peered curiously up at Jayshriek.. What was he going to say?

There was a certain authority in the voice of his adopted brother that caught Bearspirit off guard. He'd been curled around Dewlight in the nursery, taking comfort from her warmth and her steady breathing. He raised his head at Jayshriek's voice and his ears perked forward. He didn't know whether or not Dewlight would wake, so he gave her a quick lick on top of her head before uncurling from around her gently. He stepped out of the nursery and approached Jayshriek. Something was different... there was a crackling sort of energy around him that wasn't there before.

"Jayshriek?" He asked, a soft whisper in the chilly morning air. He imagined his brother would tell everyone soon why he had called them forward. He would be patient and wait for the rest of the clan to gather. If another fight was needed, Bearspirit would follow him and all of the other Riverclan cats into battle without hesitation, but he sensed that this might not be about a battle. What exactly... he couldn't guess.

Tired as he may be, Robinpatch forced himself out of his nest and made his way to the gathering cats in the clearing. The sound of his nephew's voice confused yet reassured the older tom that he was safe and well. The subject of the call was still lost to him but he was sure that it'd be explained soon.

The large tom had been overcome with grief after his half-sister, Ivystar's, disappearance. He had little family left and feared for the next one's death to come. It wasn't fair that he was outliving those who were younger than him, those that had more purpose and had more to give. He was just a sorry excuse for a warrior. He had felt lost after the news was broken but managed to hold himself up. Ivy wouldn't have wanted him spiraling into a depression. He had to keep going. That's what he did. After his tears had been all exhausted, he mentally bit himself 'awake' and he began to push himself to provide for the clan better. It's the least he could do for his late sister and her family -who was also his but he has yet to interact with them much.

The calico tom sat down near the edge of the crowd and lifted his gaze to look at his nephew, green gaze portraying nothing in particular. Seeing the younger tom up there made his heart twist and his throat to constrict with brief sadness before he brushed it all away. Now was not the time for that.

Turtlefur reluctantly left the medicine cat’s den with a slight limp. Recent clashes with ThunderClan left him sore all over and covered in new scratches, and though he would have liked to stay half-asleep while Cloverheart murmured softly to herself as she sorted herbs, Jayshriek’s loud call had an edge of gravity to it. He took his seat next to Bearspirit and looked up at the dark tom. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong, or different, or looming dangerously over RiverClan’s heads.

Dewlight was exhausted, everything hurt but she couldn't just heal in the medicine den, her duties to RiverClan as deputy and to her kits as a mother pulled her away far too early. Because of these factors, and the stress that the she-cat was under, her wounds were healing far slower than they normally would have. She blinked her eyes open at the sudden absence of Bearspirit's warmth, just catching the tip of his tail leaving the nursery as quiet murmurings sounded from outside. For a heartbeat she considered just curling back up, slipping into unconsciousness once more and worrying about whatever was going on later, but the sense of duty she felt as deputy outweighed the longing for rest. She lifted her head, noting the dried blood staining the side of her next from where her wounds had reopened in her sleep, and sighed, rising to her paws shakily. The nursery spun around her as she staggered towards the nursery entrance, attempting to clean the drying blood from her place as she steadied herself. Once she finally limped from the nursery, she looked around slowly, taking a moment to observe the camp. Nothing seemed terribly amiss, there was no blood scent (aside from her own), and there was no sound of battle. However, Jayshriek was standing upon Willow Branch, and Dewlight gazed up at him for a long moment. Why was he up there? What had happened? She started to take a step away from the nursery but staggered, almost falling before she caught herself and resorted to leaning against the outer walls of the nursery for support. Whatever was going on, they would find out soon.

A part of him still thought Ivystar would return through the camp entrance any moment now. Perhaps she had gotten lost, or maybe she was hurt and needed help, but she would be back and everything would go back to normal again. Change was terrifying, forcibly uprooting him from what was comforting and regular and dropping him where each pawstep was uncertain. He could barely stand talking to new cats, who knows how much new leadership could change.

Yet, as Jayshriek called from atop the willow branch, that little hope dwindled a little more. Ivystar wasn't with him, why was he up there? Ebonypaw didn't let his unease show on his face though, rising from his comfy spot next to the apprentice den and joining the growing crowd. Hopefully it was good news...

Greypaw had taken to resolutely napping outside the nursery where his stressed mentor lay with her kits when he wasn't called out on patrols. He had long since reached the level of a warrior, a bit later than most apprentices, yes, but forcing down his fear of the river for swimming and fishing lessons had taken quite a while. So usually he only had apprentice duties and patrols to assist now that his teach' was bedridden.

When Ivystar was found dead he hadn't been sure as to what he should think. He had respected the leader, of course, and she had even led to giving him the best mentor he could ever hope for, but he had never felt a personal attachment to the feline. She was the leader, and that was important to a clan, so even despite that, he did remain silent for a day after her discovered death partially out of respect, mostly because he was just deep in thought.

When Jayshriek leapt onto that willow branch and called for Riverclan together without all the flowery formalities, the apprentice's eyes narrowed. So... this was their future?

The sharp yet lazy tom could easily reach one simple conclusion for the Warrior's disappearance and sudden reappearance on the willow branch. He had been chosen as leader. THeir magical ghostly ancestors had reached out in their time of need to anoint someone to keep it all together other than just poor Dewlight. He was both thankful and mildly skeptical.

Tail twitching quietly, he mused on what he thought about this. The black tom was, indeed, an unusual choice, but then again there wasn't much to choose from in their clan. He recalled Jayshriek's fight at the gorge, the memory sending a sharp twinge down the fresh. slightly-scabbed scars on his flank and face that were hidden by his dense fur. The warrior was resilient, at the least, though hotheaded. Perhaps the moonstone visit helped tamper his temper though.

Still, he was in no place to oppose their all-powerful magical, nosey, ghost ancestors. Really, anyone able to bring this headless fish of a clan together would do for now.

Bearspirit exited the nursery, and after a few moments, his teach', foolishly, tried to follow. He stood up immediately upon seeing her stumble and sway, and rushed over to her side, worried, padding around her he saw the blood on her pelt and grimaced. She wasn't healing well, and that wasn't a good sign. Honestly, even if Jayshriek turned out to be a tyrant he didn't care, as long as his mentor was able to no longer be burdened by stress. She had kits, she was wounded, she was in no condition to be deputy right now, no, she should've just been focusing on being a mother.

She couldn't die because of this, she couldn't leave her kits behind, not like his parents had. Not like this.

He kept his swirling emotions in check though, instead only letting a hint of worry leak through his usual relaxed mask of apathy. It was still more emotion than he usually showed though, and that was enough to get the message across.

"Yeah... uh. You should really be laying down teach', I get that you want to hear the drama but please stop standing and bleeding out everywhere." His words were hinted with both humour and genuine concern.  "At least let me support you." He sighed, standing by her free side, he wasn't sure a den made out of bushes and branches should really be supporting the full weight of a cat on their corners anyways.

The oversized apprentice quickly glanced back to check on the kits, grimacing at the bloodstain in the nest. That can't be healthy for such small balls of fur. Why wasn't she just taking care of the kits in the medicine den? Yes he was also severely concerned for Cloverheart, but at least then she'd have someone to actively take care of her not-healing wounds and make sure she wasn't bleeding all over her kits. Also, Clover wouldn't have to keep walking between the medicine den and the nursery to make sure his mentor wasn't dying.

Sometimes his teach' was so illogical, it baffled him. Bearspirit was supposed to be the one keeping an eye on his mate, but there he was in the crowd of slowly-gathering cats. Greypaw had nothing against the tom, but sometimes he seemed oblivious... probably also stressed, like the rest of his high-strung clan.

Well, the apprentice would be the one to make sure Dewlight didn't pass out this time, he supposed. He could hear the meeting just fine anyways, Jayshriek was called 'Jayshriek' for a reason.

Settling beside his mentor, while also side-eying her wound and making sure it wasn't infected or something, he waited to listen to what their likely-new-leader had to say.

Idly, he let out a sigh, "What a troublesome moon..."

Ashpaw was tired, so very tired.  His endless solo searching, days of avoiding the fresh-kill pile, and ungroomed pelt had taken its toll on the tom and it was with great effort that he roused himself and emerged into the clearing.  He had a vague curious thought, wondering why his brother Jayshriek was on the rock instead of Dewlight, but he was sure it would be explained in time.  For now, he caught sight of Stormbringer outside the elder's den and walked over to join his mother, flopping down beside her and laying his head on his forepaws, listening but not looking as the meeting started.  He felt so lost, so confused...  Just as he had been reunited with the leader, she had been ripped away from him, leaving him with only unanswered questions and a severely aching heart.

There was a notable lack of well- anything, - felt by the tom, something he did feel slightly ashamed of but kept a similar amount of apathy about as he tried to convince himself it was okay to not be concerned or thrown off by the situation regarding the former RiverClan leader Ivystar, going about his days as if not much had changed. Frankly, for the ginger tom, not much had really changed; the clan was more sombre and reserved, sure, but it lacked any effect on his personal life-- if anything, he was mildly benefitting, his mentor off fighting battles meant there was more time for the apprentice to do practically nothing.

Speaking of, why was he- What in stars is he doing? Aspenpaw thought with nothing short of exasperation, Jayshriek's arrogance showing no bounds as he leapt onto the place of meeting, standing weakened against an ever-rising sun, calling out to the clan that was clearly already half awake. From his seat near the apprentices den, he watched quietly as cats dredged themselves out; Dewlight in particular catching his eye and momentarily his breath as he noticed the streaks of blood seeping through her fur. Swallowing sharply, he remained where he was, carefully watching his mentor and awaiting what was to come next with an unmistakable amount of dread pooling in his stomach, breaking the streak of nothingness that had plagued him for the past few sunrises.

Wisteriabloom had watched much of Riverclan's struggles from a distance, desperately wanting to help but bluntly knowing there was nothing she could do. A large part of her wished she had never retired, and then maybe it could've been her up there, leading her beloved clan through the darkness of losing their leader into a new era. The era of Wisteriastar. What are you doing. You're not playing nursery games anymore, it's too late for that. Too late for a lot of things, apparently.

Jayshriek stood atop the willow branch, a place he had no right to be, as far as the clan knew. Settled in a sitting position amongst the rest of the curious, gathered clan, she fixed the tom with a steady stare. They had worked together on the mouse hunt, but in her opinion, the young warrior hadn't been to her taste. After all, he had only just returned to the clan after disappearing for moons on the tail of a romance with a Thunderclan she-cat. Questionable, to say the least.

As much cats have gathered around, Hollypaw decided to do the same. Jayshriek's call if not alerted her, then successfully made her stomache churn with anxiety. Ivystar has still not yet to be found, and she grew more feared of the idea if she ever was going to return again. Nonetheless, Hollypaw padded over to the familiar tom, giving him a small nod of the head as a greeting per usual. She sat down, gazing up at Jayshriek curiously. Why was he up there, out of all warriors, though..? She shook her head, ears perked up to listen either way. Hopefully, it wouldn't be such sad news as last time. For moons, Ivystar still hasn't made her appearance, and the thought made her so more awfully anxious than needed. She'd always have been so calm before, yet, why was she so nervous now?

The somber morning air, wreathed in stifling undercurrents of intimately-familiar tensions and disbelief, was gently disrupted under only the beguiling entrance of silky fur flourishing softly against the soft wood below, a faint grating sound resonating low and hot against the quiet backdrop of continuously weeping conversation. Smokey and smudged, nothing more than a dark wraith of gently feathered tufts and haloed night-rich fur, Jaystar remained doused in the heavy waters of purposeful silence- perpetual crease and rift billowing below the brow as he ​drifted between various points of fixed interest, honey and wine gaze alight with some unknowable tendrils of emotion. Something hot and dark lingered within the molten depths of his soul, a taunting undercurrent of a misplaced question weighting heavily against the tightly clinched teeth, an urgency not entirely unrelated to the lingering revelation of StarClan's interference.

"For both the good and the bad," those final quiet words did little to settle the seemingly perpetual flames broiling hot and low within the fathoms of his chest, did little to settle the deep undercurrent of longing that scored vicious and bloody through his heart. The wan hour of morning was shaded with the tumultuous throb of blood, an all-consuming roar within the confines of his still whirling skull; stubbornly lingering pulses of shock dwelling deep within the sore, still thoroughly damaged bands of muscle with all the grace of a violent seizure. Despite the passing hours since the unorthodox ceremony, nothing felt entirely real. Perhaps it had never truly been real; ceased function within the parameters of reality all those moons ago when he had first ventured out to the Sunningrocks without supervision.

"Ivystar is most certainly dead," Jaystar suddenly began, thunderous voice splitting the terse air with an air of authority only a thoroughly vetted lineage of notorious leaders could grant, "what little doubts could've possibly remained about her fate in the wake of such an absence can now be firmly and finally laid to rest." Dark gaze flashing sharply under the blossoming heat of his rapidly stoking discomfort, he rolled his shoulders with an audible click of tension, ever welcome disdain and disbelief simmering low and sharp within the boundless depths of his pointed glare. "The first snowfall of the season waits to strike like a stalking fox within tall grasses, WindClan has sought claim of the Gorge, and we retained the Sunningrocks only through taking a life from ThunderClan's Leader in the ensuing skirmish; as apparent, the stakes were evidently too high in the eyes of our ancestors to let our current state of dysfunction continue on without intervention."

Feathered tail flicking in a sharp arc and rounding a tense shoulder in the general direction of the Highstones in a physical gesture of direction, Jaystar envisioned the well-memorized warmth and weight of Kitefire's ghostly presence resting against his side in a futile bid to reign in the discomfort and pulsing unease intimately knotted against his circulatory system. It felt strange to no longer spend the durations of meetings such as these without the oppressive opponent of his mother, their shared likeness more apt to draw out a vicious stalemate of refusal to concede as opposed to results of meaningful value. Forcibly exhaling the sticky remnants of tension continually blossoming low and hot within his belly like a nasty patch of sticky foliage, an irate twitch crept down the length of his spine at the prospect of attempting to explain the next part. "So I suppose in what could be called an unfortunate act of divine intervention, they summoned me to the Highstones last night to receive my nine lives- and now I stand before you, evidently christened as the sacrament meant to replace Ivystar. Seeing as Dewlight has both expressed a lack of interest in continuing these duties and her current decline in health, I suppose it's only befitting that I name a successor as quickly as possible for her sake." Angular chin tilting upwards in a meaningful deliberation for careful consideration on the treacherous rapids that enveloped the stones where his paws must step next, the dark-furred tom's unblinking gaze sought out an unusual face within the depths of the restless crowd. "Perchfall. I will extend to you the courtesy to decline should you not think yourself fitting of such a position, although I would prefer you to speak to such an inability now as opposed to several moons into your new position."

Perchfall waited, keeping her turmoil internal, as the rest of the Clan gathered around her. Dewlight wasn't looking well... the poor she-cat had had so much to deal with in the wake of their missing leader, and especially after the battle, it showed. She found herself wishing that they could all just take a break, a greenleaf of reprieve, and let Dewlight have a long sleep in the medicine den. However, with leaf-bare approaching and more dangerous than ever, such a thing would likely not be possible. The grey-and-white she-cat noted the disproportionate amount of apprentices in the crowd, wincing at the knowledge that she would likely have to train one of them soon. The Clan was not in good shape, and this new development promised to be more trouble.

Finally, Jayshriek spoke. However, he was far from the bearer of good news. At his words, Perchfall wanted to protest, asking how he could know such a thing, and why he was so quick to say it. However, she knew with a sinking feeling that his words must be true. So... Ivystar is truly dead, then. The words only continued to be wonderfully pessimistic, laying out the awful future before them. Endless skirmishes, bad relations with most Clans, and of course, the incoming snowdrifts of leaf-bare. Nearly hopeless circumstances, even compared to the elders' tales. And all without a leader to guide them.

Or... not without a leader?

Jay...star?

The name was strange in her mind, tasting like the residue of a dead fish. Here came this former RiverClan warrior back from nowhere, waltzing into their Clan, and now he was the leader? Would StarClan truly do such a thing? Why not make Dewlight the leader? Or someone more experienced, like Turtlefur or even Bearspirit? What did this mean for RiverClan as a whole? Questions raged through her mind, but she had no time to consider them. The strangely dark smear on the horizon that was apparently Jaystar took no pause before dropping an even larger dilemma on her paws.

A successor... Perchfall.

What?

For once, a slight bit of surprise actually betrayed itself on her normally stoic features. Demoting Dewlight, a senior warrior who already had experience being deputy, was an unprecedented move. Did he fear that she would challenge him for leadership? Did he think her wounds made her unfit? But more importantly... why did he think that she, who had not even yet mentored an apprentice fully to warriorhood, was right for the position? How could this be?

And yet, now the burden was on her slender shoulders. Now it was her turn to shock the Clan with words of denial and refusal, shrugging off a position some cats would kill for... or to do the unthinkable. To accept the position.

Jay...star... was not a cat she knew, nor trusted. This tom had appeared as if straight from the Mist, from a time most RiverClan cats couldn't remember, and suddenly claimed leadership given by StarClan. If she were to deny this position, who would he appoint in her stead? Who would keep this tom in check, who would watch over the Clan to make sure they truly survived this unprecedented change? If not her, then who?

Perchfall was not so prideful as to think she actually deserved the position. That thought never even crossed her mind. She was young, and-- as smart as she would like to believe herself-- unfortunately more naïve than she would like. However, with the dreadful future stretching before her like the open gaping maw of a monster with row upon row of sharp teeth, ready to tear into her Clan and destroy it before her eyes, how could she say no to the one path that might wind through, like a stream through the storm?

Her days of being a stone were over. Now she would have to become the river.

Pretending a confidence and indifference that she did not feel, Perchfall stood up from where she was sitting in the crowd of her Clanmates. She felt their eyes boring into her pelt, likely with the same disbelief and distrust and turmoil that she felt. It was likely they would never look at her the same way again. It was likely that she was destroying any chance to build a friendship or relationship with these cats, who were likely far more worthy of the position than she. But there was nothing to be done for it.

"I accept," Perchfall said.