May Gathering 2023

A warm smile had been upon the molly’s face as she regarded Perchstar’s return. It certainly felt as it should, with all of the leaders upon the rock for the evening. Even as Nightstar joined in, his response causing a curious twitch of her whiskers. There was no obvious sign of tension between the two of them that she found prompting some sort of alertness in her bones, even as deep down, she felt the pit in her stomach growing. That pit soon enough seemed to be brewing into a storm as Windclan’s medicine cat found herself atop the rock, and immediately, the tortoiseshell’s gaze changed. ”Batsong, is something wrong..? I know the last gathering was odd, but I know that you understand tradition.” She immediately prompted, shifting upon her paws anxiously as the meeting that had been held between the two immediately roiled into her mind.

The moment the onyx-pelted feline screeched into the crowd, she felt her world begin splintering. Her own pair of star-blessed, amber-eyes widened into absolute shock, and the tortoiseshell found herself taking a few steps back onto the rock. Emotions swirled like a dangerously blanketed torrent beneath her asymmetrical fur, all fighting for some semblance of dominance over her form. It felt like the weight of the entire forest suddenly came upon purely her shoulders, digging in tighter than any of the claws that gripped her as she was receiving her lives. Bile was quick to follow the piercing sensation within her chest, and it took every ounce of her consciousness to listen through the ringing that quickly filled her ears.

This was real. This was real. All of this was real.

Batsong… I asked you to leave Thunderclan out of this.

The broken words hardly whispered out of the tortoiseshell before the medicine cat had even managed to get to naming her has one of the culprits. For just a moment, there was a sliver of hope that she would not have been the one in question. That something else had happened within the forest that had created such a traitorous stir, something to the caliber of another Dawnhawk descending upon the forest. For just a moment, she found herself panicked as she scanned the crowd, only to catch that pelt etched into her memory. It was just a trick of the forest as she forced her gaze to continue on, not even daring to look at the gazes of her own clanmates.

To think that the Gathering was a time of peace. For the clans to come together, to share nothing but good news. Even if it had some monotony of it, oh how she yearned each and every moon for that to be the time they could go back to it. All she wanted to hear was each leader stepping forward, give some half-hearted warning to stay away from their borders for issues that had already been resolved, name the newly-ranked cats in their clans, and allow them all to go home. It seemed that even those deemed the messengers of StarClan were now bent on disrupting that peace. Truly, nothing was sacred anymore within the forest.

"During the medicine cat moonstone gathering it was revealed from starclan our ancestors that Nightstar and Mottlestar have had a forbidden relationship that resulted in kits."

Whatever cracks had appeared within her realm spread with a force stronger than that which had split Thunderclan’s territories not that long ago. She felt the deep lightning zip through every single pattern of her fur, every part where the deep amber flames met the pitch onyx shadows. It all singed. It singed deep, deeper than any surface wound. Farther than the raccoon that had taken part of her paw had managed to pierce its maw, farther than the words that her own son had spoken to her not that long ago had managed to pierce her heart.

The flame that usually burned so vibrantly in the middle of her chest felt extinguished with every word spoken by the medicine cat. It continued chipping away at her, each little bit. Chip, chip, chip. Shatter, crack, split. Every little part of her was slowly going out, slowly succumbing to a numbness that threatened to take everything away from her being. In the wake of every searing piece of pain, every chip of the flame that bit at her body was that numbness. It was cold, it was icey. Much more biting than even the harshest of leafbare winters, especially the one that she had been born into. If anything, her mind wandered back to the coldness of her dead mother’s body, no longer serving any semblance of assistance in keeping the tiny kit alive.

Oh, how she felt just as small in that moment as she did now. Though, in this moment, there was much more at stake. The ringing in her ears simply grew louder and louder, and the tortoiseshell didn’t even register her own steps swaying her closer towards Perchstar. Perhaps, in those moments, it was the shock of her mind attempting to gravitate towards the familiar. In times past, when Minnowfin had still walked the forest’s floors, it had always been amusing listening to the apprentices attempt to decipher one deputy from another when the mighty Riverclan leader she had befriended was still known as Perchfall. Perhaps she was still one of the few cats in the forest who remained to know the molly by her previous name, to have it stored in memory rather than a simple fact. In that moment, too, it seemed she was playing trivia with who bore the silver and white pelt that brought a deep sense of comfort.

"Mottlestar, while you have broken the code here, it is fair enough to say that as far as I know, your reputation as a fair and just leader precedes you.  Your actions of kindness, protectiveness over your clan and care towards many have helped to make this forest a safer and better environment for all.  As such, unless new evidence were to come to light in this gathering I do not see a reason to further prosecute you really.  I propose, unless anyone objects that your punishment and sentence for this crime be that you take a trip to the moonstone, admit to starclan what you have done and ask for forgiveness from the ancestors…."

It was impossible, beyond impossible, for the tortoiseshell to meet the gazes that undoubtedly bore into her pelt from the crowd. Try as she may have to lift her head to face them, she couldn’t. Instead, it simply continued to lower, sinking more and more as her own physical being sunk into that iceyness that now found itself halfway up her legs. She was already so much smaller than the rest of the leaders, even smaller when compared to the medicine cat who now dared to find themselves upon the rock. Whatever smile had been tossed over that shadow-kissed feline’s shoulder looked like little more than the villainous hiss of an adder, ready to strike at all that she loved and worked for.

Whatever punishment had seemingly been deemed fair by the medicine cat, that she had never truly known until now, never truly reached her ears. The bile that sat at the back of her throat now practically coated her tongue, and all the leader could do to keep herself from heaving in that moment was bring her paws over her head. Her slim tail found itself wrapping around her in comfort, a gesture she had often done to her kits. Even against her own skull, she found her claws kneading, the act mimicked from her too-soon gone mate. The one that she had believed, for moons, had been the one to sire the litter that now came under the scrutiny of the entire forest. They didn’t deserve it.

Even moreso, they didn’t deserve a leader who simply crumpled under those accusations.

It was that thought alone that sent the tears pouring down her hidden face. Who was she to be, if she couldn’t even defend her own clan against such slander? She had worked hard to keep them safe this past moon from all of the threats that found their way towards the Clan. ”Am I no better than Nightstar?” Quietly, the words were mumbled from her trembling frame. Even if Batsong had yet to get through the entire list of accusations that seemed to be hurled his way, it was no secret that the tom didn’t exactly capture the hearts of every she-cat and tom within the forest. This did no favors, not to either Clan.

All of it was made worse with how long Batsong kept talking. Talking, talking, and talking. At the same time, Mottlestar felt her mind slipping. Down, down, down, down into that cold abyss of nothingness that she had found herself in her den just moons before. Every single thought that had made her sink to such a position returned. As a returned foe, it had little mercy against its target, knowing exactly just where to strike to bring her down the harshest. Beyond the muffled, seemingly-far voice that acted as little more than a traitor who preyed upon a helpless kit, all that she could hear was the thrumming of her own heartbeat. It sounded far too loud, far too… dissonant. That wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

Those sensations had to be shoved down the moment that she heard more of those words. ”I recognize I am only one point of view and above all else I want this to be fair and that in the end goal should be that justice is provided in the correct amounts…” Justice? She felt entitled to speak of justice, when she had no ability to even honor the simple request that Mottlestar herself had made, only sunrises prior? What was the point of this? To air out some filthy pelt against the forest that she had somehow felt vindicated by?

Who gave you this right to behave in such a way? Words were on the tip of her maw, ready to come forth in a torrent against the medicine cat. There was time for peace, there was time for justice. But there was no peace in what Batsong was doing, none as she claimed to be the very voice of the Stars that called for this night to be. Especially as she found it some power of hers to be able to call upon random cats in the crowd, forcing them into a battle that they had no choice to fight. That was far beyond the power of any medicine cat, far beyond whatever ability even the leaders had as it was written in the code for their words to be law.

But before the tortoiseshell even had the capacity to speak, to confirm or deny any of the suspicions that came her way, voices immediately cried out around her. Understandably so, even if she couldn’t truly pick out the torrent of words. Whatever strength had burrowed into her heart had seemed to rip away all of the strength from her body. An attempt to lift her head was met with great resistance from her limbs, every sinewy thread of muscle screeching their own accusations from her actions in an attempt to prevent her from standing. She could do nothing, could let out no cry as she attempted to do such a thing. Something, anything, to let the forest know that such a cat had taken her down so easily.

As the venomous shade called forth cats to testify, one voice made its way to hear ears, though much too muffled and faint for what it should have been. "Mottlestar is the best leader ThunderClan's ever seen!" Lichenwing. One of her newer warriors, a tom who had dedicated himself thoroughly to his training and had earned his name with more than enough credit.

“Of course she’s a good caring leader! She is better than any leader I have ever known or heard about!” Comfreyheart. A voice that she could pick out from anywhere. The recognition of a mother. But still, why did she sound so distant..?

”As for these allegations... Yes, the romance between Mottlestar and Nightstar was forbidden. However, I do not see how that is any business of RiverClan, SkyClan or WindClan.” Perchstar. Oh, how that only made her chest tighten more. Thunderclan had been on the verge of an alliance with the clan across the stones, and now, it seemed it all would be ripped away. For as close as Perchstar was to her, the two-toned molly should have been much louder. Much, much louder. The fact that she sounded so distant only settled more fear into the tortoiseshell’s heart, the ever-gripping emotions that tried to present themselves into her body never being able to truly become a full, coherent piece.

Mercy… Stars, have mercy. Her pleading began. Silent, whispers within her maw that hardly moved her ever-chilling body.

”She may have simply made a mistake in a moment of passion--and who in this forest can say they have not done something similar, whether or not it was of lesser magnitude? None of you have any right to judge her. None of you.” Perhaps they did have mercy, or perhaps it was the growing fuzz in her ears that once more was replacing the sounds of the forest with that sharp, piercing ringing. Maybe StarClan wished to rip her lives away from her, one by one, while the forest attempted to defend her. If this was her ancestors finally passing their judgment, perhaps she would accept it. But something in her told her to keep fighting.

Stars, I know you should be far to listen to me. But I repent for my actions. I acknowledge, and repent, for what I did after being blessed with my lives. She continued. Still, the numbness crept forth, now overtaking a majority of her torso. She was still cemented to the rock beneath her, unable to move or adjust as the left half of her frame screamed. It screamed in pure agony, a pain that should have produced a loud cry from her maw.

”Unless you die and ascend to StarClan and then return in a cloud of lightning and flames, I will accept none of your judgements on her character. She has been nothing but a good leader, mother and friend. Any problems between her and the stars are hers to sort out, and hers alone. None of you get any say in how she is treated.”

Silence.

Or perhaps, not silence, but rather, that piercing wail. The drone that spoke of nothingness, of only the void of darkness. She had long stopped seeing what was in front of her, her vision far too blurred by the tears that had been pouring forth. Of every other sense fighting for control simply to keep her grounded. Her ears had been straining to hear the individual forces in the collective cacophony in the forest around her, so strongly, that she had hardly realized the way her conscious slipped away.

To the external world, her head had simply fallen back against her paws. The trembling frame of the mighty leader had gone still, disturbingly still. Whatever chill of the remaining leafbare had found its target, not so much creeping into her small frame so much as it was crashing upon it like a torrent. While newleaf was in charge of bringing forth warmth, there was none to be found within Mottlestar’s body in that moment. Her pelt was a mixture of ambers, browns, deep onyx, and perhaps a kiss of age-induced silver. But in that moment, whatever flame-patterns burned through her fur were rendered as cold as the stone that her body now existed upon.

---

”What an absolute dung-show.”

It was a voice, familiar yet unfamiliar, that met her ears with a surprising force. For all that she knew, she had succumbed to the unfeeling sensations that had crept into her bones as she kept her face pressed into the stone of the great rock beneath her. Part of her wanted to scoff at it. For a stone that held so much tradition, it sure seemed to serve as the perfect platter for a lot of despair. Of ruin, chaos, and events that would even make the Dark Forest turn their gazes away.

What finally had her lifting her head, however, was the realization that the voice that made that statement had been so clear. Not only that, but the ringing that had permanently settled into her hearing had slipped away, giving way into quiet muffled disruptions below. It was with a wince that she found that it all was clear. Much, much clearer than it should have been. Tears should have produced nothing more than a clouded vision, especially in the illumination of the night that blanketed the forest.

Confusion was first to sow its way onto her features as she looked around. There was no possible way that her senses would have cleared up so instantly, especially given the way her emotions still bla- no. They had numbed themselves, too. Testing her paws, they seemed to once more be her own. No more cemented by whatever invisible force had pressed itself into her body, her chest, her very soul. It was a mixture of relief, but also panic, that soon followed that realization. It only meant one thing. Dread iced its way over her already-icey body as she turned, her tortoiseshell ears pinning as her amber gaze would meet its target.

The scarred tabby, the one who hailed from Riverclan.

Mottlestar had half a mind to cry, half a mind to scoff. The very tom that had given her a life of mercy, here to narrate the absolute chaos of the forest below alongside her. Blinking once, twice, then three times, it was confirmation. The stars in his pelt narrowed into better view, as did the scars. Alongside it, too, seemed to be a little bit of an extra sheen. An homage to his roots as a cat who hailed from the water-dwelling clan, the odd ones out in the forest when it came to the alternate terrain. He should have been a sight that filled her with more rage than it did, but in a way, it was almost fitting. Given that it was the words of the leader of his former Clan that last filled her mind…

”This isn’t how you show any cat mercy. I mean, sure - I would have picked a much better cat than him. But even this is beyond what you deserve for a poor decision.” He shook his head in disdain, the star-touched tail flicking in a clear dissatisfaction for what had unfolded out in the forest… below?

It was at that moment that Mottlestar realized she was, in all truth, still exactly where she had ‘died.’ Standing a bit straighter, it was her own body that was beneath her paws. Or well, her spirit’s paws, she supposed. It was a distressing sight in the least, one that made her illustrious fur stand on the back of her scruff. One glance out among the crowd told her that the situation was no different than the one she had just left it in. Perchstar, now standing at the front of the crowd, threatening Batsong for the way that she had deemed it supposedly her right to put two leaders on trial. To go against the code that she was there to support and uphold.

More voices, joining in their distaste, calling out in their qualms. Leopardsun, just beneath even, coming to the defense of her leader. To even a slight note of uncouth amusement, the distaste at being called Leopardstar before it was her time. It was certainly a slander in multiple ways to deem a cat with the honored suffix before it was their time, especially with the currently living counterpart to that title only just above.

”Are… you going to do anything about this?”
”Out of my paws, unfortunately, kit.”
”Yeah.”

She didn’t expect the defeat in her voice that happened as a result of hearing that. Nor did she expect the exhaustion that came alongside that. Deep down, she had been hoping that his appearance would mean some acceptance of her repentance. Some sort of confirmation that they had heard her pleas, had taken her endless sunrises and sunsets of regret and torment that tortured her soul like a deep-digging thorn into account, deciding to hear her call for repentance. For some reason, she had truly desired for it to work, for them to give her some confirmation.

Leave it to the Stars to act in such a way to deny that. To keep things away from the cats that they tasked to interact as their behalf. In a way, it was fitting at the same time. Given the fact that it was a medicine cat, the very mouthpiece to their ancestors, who had been the cause behind this dissent into chaos.

Now that she had the ability to actually look into the crowd, though, there were a few places that she couldn’t help but look towards. Instantly, she looked at the leaders beside her. The stunned silence of several, the look of outright fury on Perchstar’s face, the hidden offense that roiled beneath every single pelt on that Great Rock. Not to mention, the shared sentiment of confused outrage that seemed to ripple through the deputies beneath. The tortoiseshell couldn’t help but entirely expect for one of the leaders to simply shove the medicine cat off of the Great Rock, to remind the molly of her place.

She wasn’t usually the vindictive type. Especially not as she sat with the very cat whose entire purpose was to remind her of the mercy that she was supposed to deliver to those who deserved it. But in this instance, would it be mercy to have shoved her off of the rock? Batsong seemed utterly keen on offending every cat in the forest that night, and all at the same time, Shrikestar did nothing to stop his own medicine cat from doing that. Was the forest truly so far gone and to such a point that it was acceptable behavior of just any cat to find themselves sitting upon the great rock, daring to put leaders on trial when it was their words that determined the law? The annoyance that had been too far buried had reared up, and just a singular time, the tri-toned tip of her tail flicked.

It was a betrayal that wouldn’t be forgiven, instead, filed away for later. She had no qualms with Windclan before this, had in fact been rather keen on leaving the moor-residing clan alone. However, given that such a simple request went fully ignored, not to mention the simple, near-treason that had occurred right before every single leader tonight? It was hard not to nearly taste just how many pelts had been ruffled by the accusations, words, and orders had been barked out by the medicine cat. She would hardly be surprised if, come the next gathering, there would have been a war of some sort that had occurred within the forest.

Peeling her gaze away from the leaders, the next place that her gaze went was straight into the crowd. It was hard not to look at her children, all of them. Practically all of Thunderclan had been taken under her wing, and she remembered their words that had made their way into ears just moments before she had succumbed to the way her body had failed to fully function under her command. First, to the children who found themselves at the unknowing center of all of this. To Murkyripple, who had found a spot with her sister, Firefly. To Rosepaw, who seemed positively ready to cause some semblance of her own type of chaos before all of this had happened. Her mind went to Turtlepaw and Thrushpaw as well, mere apprentices who didn’t deserve this in any fashion.

To Comfreyheart. She saw right through the onyx-pelted molly. She could see the hurt that came from all of this, and yet, the trust. That trust, that she would never betray. It made her want to sob, to kneel before every one of her clanmates and beg for their forgiveness. Particularly that molly right there, who she had tucked so tightly under her chest. She held Comfreyheart as close to her heart as she did any other of her children that she had birthed herself. After all, the molly had taken it upon herself to go above and beyond and practically act as a mother to Rosepaw and Firefly. Her little flame, burning vibrantly next to the flower who calmed her in the heaviest of storms.

Her eyes were soft, pleading in a way from the stars, for Comfreyheart to one day forgive her. Once this was all over, that would be the first cat she would talk to. Not her deputy - no, his judgment could come after. This was a molly who had been for her since the start, longer than any other cat that presently walked the forest since Minnowfin passed. It was the least that Comfreyheart deserved from the figure who was supposed to be her mother.

“If you truly seek punishment, then make your choice: either both leaders must simply repent to the stars as you are so graciously giving to Mottlestar, or Mottlestar should face worse punishment. If the both of them are going to be the basis of this whole charade, then you shouldn’t sweep aside one party’s involvement.”

Mottlestar couldn’t prevent the wince that shook her entire body about three paw-steps back in response to the calls from the Shadowclan warrior in response to Batsong’s interrogation. Not that she could blame the molly. After all, it seemed that the medicine cat had unintentionally slandered the names of multiple cats of the forest. Names that were earned through their moons of hard work, not just simply handed out like a fresh vole to the kits of the nursery. For a feline that had claimed to be there to deliver judgment, it seemed that she had somehow completed the opposite. Perhaps she had put herself in the position of a villain more than anything, and for a moment, the tortoiseshell attempted to recall if even Dawnhawk had managed to insult the forest to such a magnitude in such a short span of time.

Phantom claws unsheathed themselves out of her paws as she was simply forced to see the forest. It was through a thick, mist-pelted curtain, but she was able to watch nevertheless. Kneading at the ground, or more accurately to describe was her kneading at her body, the leader took it all in. Attempting to piece it all together. Trying to come up with some sort of plan to handle all of the chaos that had unleashed itself upon the forest.

"Frankly, Batsong, if you want my opinion on the matter... I believe you've far overstepped your position as WindClan's medicine cat. This was clearly a matter that could have and should have been addressed privately, and it's quite clear to me that the only reason it was not was that you hold a personal grudge against Nightstar. It was my understanding that medicine cats are expected to be above such things."

Listening to Shadowclan’s deputy speak, the tortoiseshell found herself in agreement. All of the voices seemed to voice in the same way, much to her own surprise. The anxiety that had firmly pierced her body in place that they would come to take the opportunity to paint Mottlestar into the light of a villain was slowly dissipating from her body. If anything, the forest seemed much more offended by the way that Batsong seemed more than comfortable in taking tradition into her own paws, chewing it into a pulp, and spitting it into the dirtplace for whatever clan she felt like targeting at that very moment.

As she watched, there was one burning question that finally appeared upon her lips. One to ask the scarred tom beside her, who was also watching with a look that was somewhere between absolute disgust and heartbreak. Which emotion was winning his own war was a question she would leave unanswered. It was best to leave the late tom to rest, to not badger him for too many answers that would give Aspenblaze his own feelings of distaste towards her. After all, if anything, Mottlestar had needed this. She needed the company.

”What killed me, Aspenblaze?”
”Your heart gave out. For a molly who gives so much and lives with it, it sure seems weak.”
”Tch, it seems so.”

Shaking her head, Mottlestar readjusted the way she sat. Every emotion still weighed heavily upon her, ready to crush her weakened soul beneath it all. Through the power of her lives, though, it seemed she was granted some immunity from that absolutely wretched feeling. The tortoiseshell accepted whatever respite she was provided, even if all it was doing was simply delaying the torture that had been dealt her way. It was perhaps the least of what she deserved.

”Remember, kit. I gave you the ability to see past one's mistakes, and to show them compassion when others wouldn't.”

She found herself puzzled by the reminder, her eyes narrowing with confusion and ultimately pulling her from the otherwise-mesmerizing crowd. Just as her gaze tossed towards the tom in question, she felt that tug. That tether that told her it was time to go back, that her body was now strong enough to once again host her soul. Even if it was just the bare minimum to once more host her conscience, she’d be sent back. All of the weight of the gathering once more suddenly crashed into her senses, and for a moment, Mottlestar truly considered staying in the realm of the dead. Or perhaps, undead, rather. But whichever it was that somehow had blessed her being, she had no desire to return to the forest just yet.

The lack of choice seemed to be the unfortunate theme for the night for the molly, as all she was able to do before watching the tom disappear was open her maw in some sort of parting words. They never got to sound.

---

”Mottlestar, is there any way I can help? Are you all right? If you... need a place to stay....”

The call of her friend was the first to meet her ears. For a she-cat that hailed from Thunderclan, it sure seemed that the clan across the river and rocks of warmth held a much closer place to her heart than any other. Even as it still was rather muffled, she was able to hear every word with clarity. It took her mind much longer to process them than she would have liked, and she could feel the effort her body was putting in to be able to truly hear them all.

”If you... need a place to stay....”

Oh, how that offer meant more to her than she could ever truly state. Which was more truthful than anything else said in the forest during that gathering. She couldn’t speak yet, the torrent of pain that came from the minutes of life that her body was refusing to function, to exist in the limbo of death, once more cascading into her system like a shock. The only sound that had managed to make its way out of the molly was a ragged squeak of pain, a cry that much more mimicked a kit that had been accidentally rolled onto by a heavily-sleeping queen.

Still, she forced her eyes upwards towards Perchstar. It hurt to look, even in the dim night of the gathering. But that one look… it was a look that the leader would hopefully know. No, she had to know. After all, Poppyshine had shared at the previous gathering what had happened to Perchstar. The lack of her silver fur, as well as the fresh scar that marred the RiverClan leader’s shoulder told her as much. For the ray of hope that had been extended her way, Mottlestar was crawling into it with all of the energy that she had. As little as it was, it would hopefully be enough.

Help. It was the only word registered in her gaze. As much as she pushed herself, her body reminded her that her strength was slow to return, ever-slowly returning to her body. It wasn’t as much of an emotional torment that ached and clawed at her heart this time so much as a genuine physical pain, limbs and chest screaming with complaint at whatever it was she had endured just before and after her momentary passing.

Had she not known through pure logic that she was firmly upon the Great Rock, the tortoiseshell would have swore that she was swimming in a sea of water at the heart of Riverclan’s own territory. Her nose registered so many smells that it stung, her ears still ringing in bursts that made it hard to comprehend just whatever brand of chaos currently marked the clearing of Fourtrees. She had relented the pleas of her eyes to once more put her head down, to close them slightly in an attempt to filter out all of the illumination that otherwise stung to perceive. Perhaps that was why ShadowClan cats so often found themselves away from the light, it was hard to adjust to a difference.

Whether or not her friend took in her plea, Mottlestar had no choice for the time being. The only movements she managed was to once more cover part of her face with her paws, to try and still her trembling frame. It wasn’t so much out of all of the emotions that wrecked her, though they certainly spared her no mercy in those moments. No, it was instead in the intense amount of pain that coursed its way through the small tortoiseshell. Though many whispered words of being “tiny but mighty,” there was no such power that seemed to linger under her pelt. None at all.

”I believe this to be a one-off code breaking. Mottlestar wouldn't further hurt ThunderClan or its rules; she has led us on the straight and true.” The voice of her daughter made it through to her next, and Mottlestar was only able to open her eyes in time to see the flaming, piercing, near-lethal gaze of her kin piercing straight at her. Right through the Riverclan leader who otherwise protected her from the scrutinizing view of the forest. “However, there should be an added punishment: claim on of Nightstar's lives. Prove to the forest- not just StarClan- that you have repented.”

The request immediately sent more bile straight for the back of Mottlestar’s throat, and the rest of her strength had her clawing into the ground to swallow it back down. No matter the villain, the idea of taking the life of another cat always had the tortoiseshell contemplating giving up her lives instead. It just wasn’t something she possessed in the easiest of senses. Despite having been born a natural hunter, it had even taken the molly herself ages to simply be able to hunt normal prey. All she ever wanted to do instead was to preserve life. It was what she had worked the hardest for.

But in one way, she could understand. What better way to truly display the severance of such a relationship than to kill? Mottlestar gave every part of her, even gave her entire heart, for her family. Would she do it again? In a heartbeat. But could she bring her own claws out against another leader? Not without great reason. Was this great enough reason? Her gut told her no. What if the rest of the forest, however, called for it? Would she be forced to do such a thing? It was already near-impossible for her to look towards the larger tom, the one that she had committed the cardinal sin with.

Finally, though, the voice of the tom who could easily doom her to a fate worse than the one he was called for. Perhaps a bit of irony balanced on that dual-edged claw that was otherwise leveled her way. However, as he spoke, it seemed that she was not the target of his frustrations. Even if she was, she would have understood. They had made an agreement across the Thunderpath, and it wouldn’t have been entirely against him should he bear some anger towards her for admitting to the medicine cat about what had happened. Though, it seemed he either had mercy for her, enough of a level-head to understand the situation, or just enough anger towards Batsong that she was spared the brunt of the fury that otherwise could have easily seen her on the receiving end of a rather frustrated tom’s anger.

It was to her own surprise, though, that he was… not nearly as violent as tendencies would have implied. But at the same time, straight through it all, Mottlestar swore she heard the heart of that very tom that she had on their walk back. Now was not the time to be thinking of it, or perhaps it was. To truly evaluate the heart of the one who was in the carrionplace of this gathering with her. At her core, she knew he was ready to defend his clan. He had no issue in denouncing all of their kits, all for the safety of those they truly were to care about, in title, and in action. There was no reason for him to care about them, anyways.

That thought alone simply made anger bubble back under the surface of the pained tortoiseshell’s pelt. Why did the forest care? Well, that answer was obvious. But why did Batsong see herself so desperately needing to be a martyr, there to paint a picture of her saving the forest from two leaders who had done nothing more but had a foolish evening together? For all the forest cared, this could have been before they were leaders. Nobody cared to know.

Those thoughts were silenced as she attempted to rise to her paws, only to release another yelp at her body’s complains. Too soon, too soon. Her body didn’t so much as warn her as it did screech. She could only let tears race down her face, her breathing continuing to heave as her strength seemed to be returning much too slowly. It was easily the stress taxing her body for every ounce of strength it had at any given moment, and for just a sliver of time, she truly felt like she would succumb right back into the depths of losing another life.

The singular glance that came her way from Nightstar should have been enough to scare her out of her mind. To send her towards the strange dens of the twolegplace, to become a kittypet and never look back. But instead, all she could do was swipe her own amber gaze his way. It softened with every bit she could, and the tiniest shake of her head in denial. On her lips, the two words formed. I won’t. There was no need for this to end in unnecessary bloodshed, and if she had any persuasion in the manner, it wouldn’t happen.

Looking back to Perchstar, the tortoiseshell hissed her pain as she forced herself to her front paws. Whatever regulation her breathing had found in laying down was completely faded into the abyss alongside the life she had lost as her chest once more pounded, her head swimming right alongside it. To keep herself grounded, she focused purely on the molly in front of her, as well as whatever sensations were coursing through her body.

It felt counterintuitive, to say the least, to focus on the pain that found itself rippling from nose to tail-tip. But it was lessening. Ebbing away, even if the forest around her was ready to tear her right back down. ”Perch… Fawnshine… please?” Each word heaved heavier than the last, a hoarse whisper. Something about this life was much, much harder for her to recover from the last. Part of her swore that Starclan had been keen on taking more than their share of just a single life from her body in this instance, but it didn’t matter. She needed her medicine cat… if her medicine cat didn’t seem ready to turn on her.

Just as tensions seemed to slowly be fading out of the air, a shadow appeared over the molly’s vision, and she half-expected her body to hit the solid stone of the great rock below. But instead, it was a familiar sight. Birdstar. She’d half-heard some of her messages to Batsong, including a very non-negotiable order to get off of the rock. To say she appreciated the two mollies was an understatement. “I hope you’ll be alright, in ThunderClan? … I’m sorry, for this night. You have SkyClan’s– my support, Mottlestar.”

The words rolled in her mind for some moment, processing, processing. But on instinct, she dipped her head, a thankful set of eyes staring at the much larger, much fluffier molly. She was thankful, thankful to the stars that still seemed to smile upon her, for this mercy. It was one she would send gratitude for.

”I… do not know. But… Thank you.” Tears stained the corner of the motherly molly’s eyes, but they weren’t out of fear. Or panic, or hurt. It was truly out of gratitude for the two she-cats before her.


Thunderclan, you are awaiting orders, as Mottlestar has lost a life!