EmberClan and FrostClan Chapter 18

= Chapter 18 = Curled up in her own nest, just under her makeshift pine canopy, Dropstar dreamed.

The dreams weren’t as clear as the one she had while still in the medicine den-- bleeding out in front of her family and EmberClan. These dreams were more abstract, more vague. Bright flashes of tumbling orange and swirling red, angry bright lights and then shivering darkness filled her head, and she was constantly twitching in her sleep.

It had taken a lot of arguing with Creamwing to finally be able to leave the medicine den and go back to her own tree stump. She tried to sneak off and hunt, but it seemed there wasn’t much to catch in the past few days anyways.

It was like she had no place as a leader anymore, with nothing to do but wait.

Even in her unconscious state, she couldn’t stop thinking about the dream-- Mudslide, the old snarling sphynx, and the small, innocent kit. She even swore she heard a kit’s cries in her dream. It was so real, so tangible, it only messed with her head more.

She blinked open her eyes at the stars, the subtle, faint glowing stars, and flicked her ears.

She still heard he kit.

She rustled and rolled around, trying to wake herself up fully. She was exhausted—even though her wound wasn’t painful anymore, her entire body ached from the stress of the past few weeks. She longed to be able to soak in the warm lake, watching blossoms from the trees bob by as she waded into the fish-stuffed water, but when she poked her head up from the nest, all she saw was bare deciduous and miles of sludgy snow.

And when she glanced over at the center of the camp, in between her nest and the ice ridge, she saw something else.

At first, she thought it was simply an oddly placed stone, or some wood, or a bundle of leaves Creamwing never picked up. But when she squinted through the night, she saw fur, and a tail.

She pulled back, prepared to jump out of her nest. Who on earth would leave prey right in the middle of the camp? The warriors should know better to not let it spoil out in the open.

And then it hit her. A sharp, high pitched cry,  clearer than ever. The animal shifted slightly, a pale bundle wigging in the snow.

There was a kit in the middle of FrostClan camp. No parents, no siblings, no food or bedding or anything. No paw prints leading out into the forest, although there were already patches of melted snow one could remain on so as not to be seen.

Dropstar felt an intense, strange fear, and dove back down into her nest until she was concealed by her bedding. She panted heavily, her hot breath rustle the leaves and needles over her face. What if it was a trap? What if a nomad, or even worse, a fox or badger or dog, had tried to lure out the leader with a helpless, crying kit? How could any cat leave a helpless newborn out in the snow like that?

Dropstar shook her head vigorously. Why was she like this? She had never felt her heartbeat this fast when in her own camp. What was she so upset about? Her wound was healing, her warriors were ready to come to her aid, and she was in her home. This wasn’t anything close to when she was marching up the mountain, prepared to face an entire clan. Was she so scared of a baby?

She inhaled deeply, and crawled out of the tree stump. Little by little, she moved towards the kitten, every step towards the foreign cat a painfully nerve wracking one. It was pitch dark out, and eerily silent, and Dropstar felt like she was underwater, wading through a thick, dark world.

Every movement was so slow and purposeful, when she did arrive with her paws right in front of the creature, she wasn’t sure what to do. She never knew what to do with kits— should she pick it up? Nudge it? Talk to it?

She closed her jaws around the kit’s (practically microscopic) scruff, as carefully as a brute like her could manage. It was a strangely heavy for such a tiny thing, barely bigger than a pinecone.

With her legs moving as fast as she could without running, she made it to the Ice Ridge. Lying just a few feet from the mouth of the cave was Needletoe, his round body rising upand down ever so slightly.

She nudged him awake with one paw, trying to be discreet.

Immediately his grayish eyes blinked open, and his cold gaze locked on Dropstar and the kit. With his only indicator of surprise a slightly open mouth, he went outside with her, light on his feet.

Back out in the ocean-like outdoors, they spoke in hushed voices.

“What on earth happened?” was the first thing he said.

“I- I heard a kit crying, in my dream, I guess,” Dropstar began, realizing how ridiculous the situation was. “I woke up, and looked outside, and, and it was there, just, LYING there in the middle of the camp.” She pointed to the slight indent in the snow where the kit had nestled. “Aside from my footprints, there are no fresh ones.” She set it down on her front paws, feeling awkward with the fragile creature.

“Whoever was here maneuvered around the snowy patches,” Needletoe replied. He carefully sniffed around where the kit was. Aside from it’s young, milky scent, Dropstar couldn’t detect anything.

She met Needletoe’s eyes with dismay as he found that, even under his sharp nose, there was nothing but usual FrostClan scents mingling about and fresh, watery snow over pine.

The deputy stretched his neck, baffled. “There’s no point in trying to solve this now,” he said over a yawn. “We should get the poor thing to Creamwing now— come on.” The striped tom was already headed off to the medicine burrow, but Dropstar lingered for a moment longer, staring bleakly at the indent. How did this happen so fast? How was it that just a few days ago she was patching dried blood with moss, and now she had a tiny kitten on her feet?

How was it that just a few weeks ago, she was talking to her mother in the very same Ice Ridge about the drama of Falconflight having kits, and whether Dropstar would have kits, and other trivial things?

It was so odd to Dropstar. Kits didn’t crawl out of the earth like cicadas— every cat had a family, a history, a birthplace, and a parent. They weren’t supposed to just show up in the center of a busy camp one quiet evening, no. She felt like she was going crazy, like she was alone in this dark world.

With the rustling kit still squirming under her chin, she quickly set off to the Ice Ridge again. Time to find Goldenshine.

The she-cat burst into the small burrow, panting from running. “He’s just gone! Not a lick of him anywhere, just gone!”  she yelled, almost demanding. Dropstar stared with wild eyes at Needletoe, Creamwing, and the kitten.

“Well, in other news, it’s a girl,” Needletoe said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

“Who’s gone?” Creamwing turned from the tiny nest, lips pressed tightly.

Needletoe sighed, already knowing what Dropstar was on about.

“Goldeshine!” the leader sputtered. “I went to get him, b-becase I wanted more help here, and he’s plain left the Ice Ridge. I accidentally woke up Mosseye will looking for him— I’ll pay for that.”

She dg her paws into the permafrost floor of the den, irritated. “How can a leader lead without being able to find her top warrior?”

“May I remind you who your actual deputy is?” Needletoe retorted, curling his lips. “This is ridiculous. Calm yourself down and maybe we can get ahold of the situation.”

He turned back to helping Creamwing with whatever medical stuff she asked, muttering under his breath about how Dropstar depended on Goldenshine, probably.

Dropstar shook her head. “What can I do?” she finally asked.

“We have to warm the kitten first, before we can feed her,” Creamwing explained, stroking her tail over it’s small body. Her small body, Dropstar corrected herself.

Ignoring Needletoe’s jostles, Dropstar inspected the kitten. She was very small, her ears barely visible and her eyes squinty slits. Her fur, or what little wet mess of fur she had, was very pale tan, almost white, and her nose bright pink— nobody was sure what she would look like, or what her parents must have looked like.

“There was no scent around her?” Creamwing asked, trying to place the kitten in a makeshift nest of dry rabbit fur.

“Nothing out of the ordi—“ Needletoe bega.

“We couldn’t find anything,” Dropstar interrupted. “No signs of a queen.”

Creamwing didn’t say anything, only shake her head and go back to fixing things up in the small burrow.

As if on cue, pounding pawsteps began overhead, around the camp. The kitten started to wail, but Creamwing shushed it.

Needletoe and Dropstar glanced at each other, ears twitching.

Slowly, Dropstar made her way out of the burrow, creeping low but with every muscle tensed and ready to strike. She flexed her paws.

But when she peered out of the small opening into the moonlight,she saw a flash of familiar amber fur.

She leaped out of the medicine den, almost caving in the entrance hole, and snarled. “Goldenshine! Where on earth were you?”

The tom jumped. “W-what?” he asked, startled.

“I tried to wake you up, there was an emergency,” Dropstar explained through gritted teeth, much to they eye-rolling of Needletoe. “But I couldn’t find you anywhere. What fox-taming have you been doing?”

Goldenshine stared at the ground, hurt. “I’m sorry, Dropstar,” he mumbled. “The young apprentices were all cold and I went to get them some more rabbit skins to keep warm.”

Dropstar took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Of course the loveable Goldenshine would want to help ot the apprentices— there were rumors they were his own kits. Of course.

“While you were getting extra blankets for the apprentices, there’s a kit who actually needs help,” Needletoe put in. Dropstar was just relieved he was standing up for his leader.

Goldenshine furrowed his brow, blank.

“There was an abandoned kit found on FrostClan territory,” Dropstar repeated. “The thing was crying from right in the center of the camp. No footprints, scent trails, or any signs of a parent.”

“Oh my god,” the yellow warrior murmured. He noticed the medicine burrow. “Is it in there?”

“Creamwing’s trying to warm it up, but we have no idea what we're supposed to feed it.” Dropstar led the large cat down into the medicine burrow, so he could see the kit for himself. He simply looked sad, distant.

“My question is just who would have the heart to leave a kit in the snow,” was all Creamwing said.

“You read my mind,” Goldenshine replied, nodding. “At least whoever left it trusted it with FrostClan to care for it.”

Dropstar hadn’t thought of it that way. “You’re right,” she realized, glancing back at her warrior. “We need the clan to take care of this kit, like we were trusted to.”

“I’m calling a clan meeting,” the deputy interrupted. “If it really is our StarClan-given duty to watch over this kit, the clan has a right to know.”

He hopped out of the burrow, light on his feet, and let Dropstar follow. “Wake up the clan,” she instructed him. “I’ll shout the meeting.”

Goldenshinne waited by the base of the stump, chin held high diligently, while Creamwing went back into the den to grab the she-kit. He appeared to have felt bad for leaving in the night, but Dropstar knew it was never leader-like to get mad at a warrior for helping his clan before her.

He was only doing his job.

Dropstar sighed, feeling infinitely safer with a strong warrior at her feet and the clan filing in from the Ice Ridge, groggy eyed and whispering amongst themselves. They constantly checked to glance over at Dropstar on the greeting stump, as if Needletoe was playing a mean prank.

Goldenshine and Needletoe flanked Creamwing as she went from the medicine den, shielding the tiny creature from nosy FrostClan eyes.

“Attention, cats of FrostClan,” Dropstar declared, her voice booming and shushing the crowd. “Tonight, on one of the first few days of the clan’s return to normal life after the fight, something came into the camp that seems to have changed that.” She felt awkward, and unsure how to word this. How would the clan take to a foreign kitten dropped in their territory? Unlike when she announced the war on EmberClan, there wasn’t an enemy or a side at all. It made her stomach turn a bit at the thought of her clan’s fast changing views.

She motioned with her tail for Goldenshine and Needletoe to part from Creamwing’s side, and it was then that the kitten was clearly visible to the ground, held high by the scruff from Creamwing’s muzzle and displayed clearly.

“A tiny kit was found dropped in FrostClan territory,” Dropstar began, sparking even more murmurs of confusion. “She had no siblings or parents, and there were no paw prints or scent trails that could have shown us the mother.”

Goldenshine stepped forward, eyeing the sleepy crowd. “It is our duty as a clan to take in this kit who was trusted with us,” he repeated, voice grave.

“How is the poor thing alive?” demanded Hailnose. “We have to work hard enough to guarantee FrostClan kits don’t freeze to death in their nests. A foreign kit out in the snow has so little chance of survival….” she trailed off.

“I know,” piped up Creamwing, dropping the infant at Dropstar’s paws so the clan got a better view. “We must make sure to keep her plenty warm and dry, for freezing alone, let alone sickness.” She shook her head sadly, remembering the many kits lost to the cold over the years. “It is only after that her temperature is stable we can feed her.”

“Feed her what?” yelled Pinetail, rather aggressively. “How on earth are we expected to ‘take in the kit trusted with us’ when we have no means of caring for it?”

“It’s not like you can plop it on the teats of a queen and have her raise it. Not in the winter,” Shrubfoot reminded. “Not like in the fables. None of the queens are even near being able to produce milk.”

Dropstar frowned, feeling less and less confident. What was she thinking, trusting the whole clan with a kit? FrostClan was so loyal and strong within themselves— they had no way to care for the kit.

To her own horror, the first thought in her head as more and more cats protested was to take it all the way to the human cottages and leave it there to be a kittypet.

But that was impossible. She barely knew anything about kits herself, but knew that FrostClanners raised their children well. They had to give this abandoned kit a life, a second chance at having a purpose.

Was it even abandoned, though?

“Even if we kept it alive, wouldn’t it know it was different?” Shadowfoot piped up, interrupting Dropstar’s train of thought.

“I’m worried that other cats will bully her for being abandoned,” Flakefur complained.

“Then don’t bully her!” Needletoe snapped back with a hiss.

There seemed to be no way out of the crowd’s opinions. Dropstar nodded and tried to calm the most aggressive cats down, but she knew they were right. What would they feed her? Who would care for her? How would they treat her as a warrior? Should she be trusted as a warrior? What were they even supposed to name her?

She couldn’t answer any of these questions with Needletoe and Goldenshine, and felt she had somehow failed as a leader.

But as she tried to focus on individual cats in the crowd, she noticed two who were silent. Falconflight and Snowwhisker. Dropstar caught the eye of her brother, and raised one eyebrow in question, knowing from the concentrated look in his eyes he was thinking.

“Ahem,” Snowwhisker piped up, clearing her throat. “My mate and I have something we would like to say.”

Dropstar thought she heard a queen scoff at “mate,” but Needletoe silenced her.

“As some cats may know through gossip and the likes, me and Snowwhisker would be unable to have kits on our own,” Falconflight began, and Dropstar suddenly knew where this was going.

The warriors quieted down, suddenly focusing on the couple. Falconflight glanced at some of his best friends, all confused as to his stance on the news.

“W-we would like to adopt the kit for ourselves,” Snowwhisker explained hurriedly, her long whiskers twitching.

“Really?” Dropstar asked, stepping down from the stump so she could be closer.

“We've been thinking about ways we could be parents for a while now, and this seems like the perfect opportunity.” Snowwhisker pushed her paws together, always seemingly shy whenever the leader turned her gaze to her.

“Too perfect,” Hailnose blurted, but smiling slightly.

“That’s… that sounds great,” Creamwing said hesitantly, hoisting the kit up. “Would you really be able to care for her?”

“Of course they would,” Dropstar replied hastily, stepping in for the awkward grey she-cat. “My brother would be capable of raising a kit, even if it’s not a traditional FrostClan habit.”

“If a she-cat mates with an infertile tom, she may still experience symptoms Ike milk production.” Needletoe glanced at Creamwing. “I would know, being sterile myself.”

“He’s right,” Creamwing replied, but her eyes were dark and tired. “There is a way to care for the kit.”

Dropstar let out a deep, shuddering sigh, and she stared at the kit weighing the medicine cat down. It squirmed and cried in the view of all the clan, but there was the tiniest spark of hope, a chance for the kit to be raised by the leader’s very brother and his mate.

It was so perfect— a happy couple unable to have kits, an abandoned kit needing a family. The leader surveyed the still sleepy warriors, proud that fate had worked out this way.

She hobbled back to the stump, letting Creamwing and the couple stay in the back with the kit. “Today, I give my own brother, clever warrior Falconflight, and his mate, kind warrior Snowwhisker, the right to foster the kit just brought into our lives. I trust the clan to respect and care for the kit together, and for Creamwing and the Caretakers to keep her healthy and safe.”

It felt good to make orders again, say something important, from the same tree stump as usual. It was a surprisingly satisfying feeling, the bittersweet look in Falconflight and Snowwhisker eyes as they stared at their leader, their medicine cat, and their new daughter.

“What are we naming her?” Goldenshine piped up, his own eyes tears with joy. Dropstar glanced at the warriors around her, and was shocked to see how happy they had become.

“I want something true to FrostClan, something to remind us just how much of our own she is,” Falconflight bellowed.

“I like Icekit. It was one of the names I imagined when thinking of our kits,” Snowwhisker said gently. Falconflight nodded approvingly.

“Icekit it is then. From now on, this young kitten will be adopted into FrostClan as Icekit, daughter of Falconflight and Snowwhisker and a new clan member,” Dropstar declared.

The crowd cheered.