Chapter 1: Mossglow’s Redemption

The thorns above Mossglow's tawny head rustled in the light breeze, and the tabby warrior opened their deep yellow eyes. Blinking sleep-dust from their eyes and fog from their waking mind, the former loner stretched in their nest and stood, flexing pale claws in the sandy earth.

Careful to avoid their Clanmates' tails and outstretched paws, Mossglow padded carefully out from the centre of the warriors' sleeping space and stood for a moment in the centre of the clearing that formed GladeClan's camp, taking in the beginnings of sunlight and the newleaf warmth on the gentle breeze that teased at the thorns of the camp walls. It had been many moons since GladeClan's formation, and Mossglow was proud that they had weathered perhaps five leaf-bares together now.

When they first came to the forest along with their friend Sandy, it had been wild and empty - or so it seemed. Since then they had felt out a cautious peace with the mountain Tribe to the south, and the ancient Colony to the east, and the three factions had lived in relative harmony for seasons since.

"Morning, Sandstar," the tabby mewed cheerfully to their long-time friend, waving their long tail in greeting. They picked a squirrel from the meagre fresh-kill pile and padded over to the cream-and-white leader, settling down beside them. "I'll take the dawn patrol out shortly, want to share first?" she offered. Sandstar's nose twitched and they settled down beside Mossglow, pale coat blending with Mossglow's own dusky tabby one in the weak pre-dawn light. The old friends shared their meal together and by then, the rest of the Clan was beginning to stir.

"Hazelnose, Brighteye, Sharppaw, you're with me. Moondust, Birdpaw, Grayear, Duskpaw, you take the Tribe border, under that new cat's rule they're always causing strife so keep an eye out. Doefoot, Greengaze, Mousepaw, Daisypaw, Nightfur, you should head out hunting." Mossglow called out, still pitching her voice low so as to avoid disturbing the rest of the Clan. And with patrols sorted, the tabby deputy fell in step with four of their Clanmates as they left the thorn-walled camp.

---

Belly low to the ground, Mossglow slunk through the undergrowth, their honey-coloured eyes fixed on an unaware mole nosing through the undergrowth. They crept closer, placing each paw with care, and when it felt right, she leapt.

Catch swinging from their jaws, Mossglow returned to the patrol. They were perhaps halfway along the Sundown Colony's border heading north, so she buried the slate-furred creature at the roots of a twisted kahikatea with the intent to fetch it later. "Nice catch," Hazelnose complimented them cheerfully, and Mossglow acknowledged him with a nod. Stiffly, she scented the air, and her hackles prickled at unfamiliar cat scents. "Colony patrol," she hissed, warning her own patrol back from the border with a wave of their black-striped tail. "No point antagonising them unless we must."

Even as the warning left their lips, the Colony patrol emerged from the trees. They kept to their side of the border but their pelts were ruffled and their movements too quick and furtive, and Mossglow eyed them with suspicion. The enemy patrol cast glances about, though the wind was blowing back towards Mossglow's cats, concealed from view in the undergrowth, and so the Sundown Colony patrol thought they were alone. The first to cross was a black-and-white apprentice - no, softpaw, Mossglow remembered, curling their lip at the young cat.

Two more figures crossed the border - one slender, their pelt brown tabby like Mossglow's own and dappled with cream tortoiseshell patching. The other was more a threat. Taller than Mossglow's own respectable stature, their thick, short pelt a deep brown unmarked by tabby striping but splashed with white, as if they'd walked through white paint. The eyes in the broad head were a startling pale blue in the dawn light, set in a white mask, and Mossglow felt a warm tingle deep in her belly that was neither fear nor suspicion.

Mossglow stepped clear of the brush, their fur bristling and tail raised in warning as they beckoned their companions forward. "Stop right there," they growled, blocking the intruders' path with their own solid frame, claws sliding out into the leaf-litter.

The white-marked chocolate tom halted, his hackles prickling and ears flat. Jaws parted in a hiss, but despite his massive stature his demeanour was fearful. As it should be, caught stealing! Mossglow flattened their ears and hissed, and as they stepped forward the chocolate-and-white tom backed away into his black-and-white factionmate. "Otter Foot. Hare Dapple. And... this must be young Splash Wing." Mossglow growled, casting a disparaging eye over the three intruders. None of them showed signs of starvation - their pelts were sleek and their muscles solid - especially Otter Foot's, Mossglow noticed with another uncomfortable twist in her belly. "You two... sharpclaws... You I've smelled before, as far in as the climbing kauri. Get back on your own territory and you can keep your fur - but don't think I won't mention it at the next meeting." they hissed, raising their chin to meet Otter Foot's pale gaze. He returned it diffidently, his pelt flattening out as a cocky gleam grew in those eyes.

Mossglow's patrol stepped forward, pelts bristling, as the intruders showed no signs of withdrawing. Otter Foot backed off, falling in step with his two companions. "Hunting's better here, is all. We're terribly sorry, we didn't notice your scent markers." he mewed, his voice low, warm and mocking.

And at some unseen signal his companions lunged forward, both tackling one of Mossglow's companions. Mossglow cast about for who was still open, and their gaze landed on Hazelnose. "Hazelnose! Get Splash Wing off Sharppaw!" they ordered, their voice cracking. "Sharppaw, run for-" they were cut off as heavy paws struck them in the flank. They turned their gaze back and met Otter Foot's river-pale one, uncomfortably close as the bulky tom had pinned Mossglow beneath him.

"You've scented us before? Then why didn't you say something, o loyal deputy of GladeClan?" he drawled, that low-pitched voice setting Mossglow's belly to writhing even as their pelt bristled with fury. They went limp beneath the heavy sharpclaw, dropping her eyes from his - and the ploy worked. With a yowl of fury she reared up and threw him off, cuffing him across the jaw for good measure. A rushed glance told the tabby deputy that Sharppaw was long gone in search of Doefoot's patrol. Mossglow just had to hold this arrogant furball back until their apprentice returned.

Mossglow didn't merit Otter Foot's mocking gibe with a reply, lashing her tail in irritation. Claws unsheathed, they leapt back at the bigger cat and clung to his broad shoulders, digging in with their foreclaws latched to his chest. "Your weight is nice there, little warrior. Were you meaning to hurt me?" the bicolour tom taunted, and Mossglow was too put-off by his comment to notice as he dropped to the ground, crushing her beneath his weight. They clung on valiantly, but blackness clawed at the edges of their vision and everything faded out of their perception.

---

Mossglow awoke in the dim half-light of Crookedleap's mossy clearing, a dull ache throbbing in their skull. Their vision was a little foggy as their eyes refused to focus, and she felt like one giant cat-shaped bruise. A soft nose pushed into her cheek, the scent told them it was Sandstar. "I suppose you know we had a run-in with a Sundown Colony patrol?" Mossglow mewed drily, their whiskers twitching.

A low growl sounded in Sandstar's chest, and the leader pressed closer to Mossglow. "Oh, believe me, I noticed. Doefoot's patrol has renewed the border, and I'll take the matter to Gray Dawn at the next meeting. We may be a new faction compared to them, but that's no excuse for attacking our patrols without provocation."

“It’s not the first time they’ve trespassed either,” Mossglow growled, fur spiking irritably as a bitter ache pulsed in her head. “Their scents cross the ridge and run right into the heart of our territory. They’re hunting their old trails, as if we’d never settled here. And that Otter Foot, he’s the worst – arrogant, entitled, smarmy - I pity whoever he settles on as a mate!”

Sandstar chuckled and touched their nose to Mossglow’s cheek. “Sounds like he got under your pelt. Are you sure you aren’t just jealous of this hypothetical mate of his? You remember what StarClan told us when we formed the Clan – we cannot take mates outside the Clan, save for loners wishing to join it.”

“Of course I remember!” Mossglow retorted, lashing their tail at the very thought – jealous? No. Mossglow much preferred she-cats anyway, and if she were to take a tom as a mate, it certainly wouldn’t be one so arrogant. She doubted they would forget those StarClan cats as long as either of them lived – ancient warriors with starlight in their fur, who had looked down on that odd pair, a former kittypet and a loner slowly starving to death in a grassy hollow and seen greatness in them, seen the beginning of what was now GladeClan. Just as Bluestar had said it would, the Clan had grown tenfold, originally from wandering loners and kittypets who had been afraid their twolegs would steal their kits and now with each new litter born to the Clan. Sharppaw and his sisters Crowpaw and Sunpaw were the first apprentices who had been born within the Clan and now their mother Mistflower had a new litter. GladeClan was strong, from its’ newest members to its’ senior warriors – and Mossglow refused to be any exception to that.

A bump on the head and a few bruises were of little concern and soon Mossglow was out on patrols again, with much of those patrols focused along the Colony border where Otter Foot and his factionmates still strayed across even after the meeting with Gray Dawn. This morning Mossglow was out hunting with Moondust, Honeypelt and Sunpaw along that same troubled border, but while their Clanmates were busy creeping after squirrels and the like, Mossglow’s mind drifted back to the cocky chocolate-and-white Colony tomcat Otter Foot. Was it their imagination, or was that his scent in the bramble bushes just ahead?

Imagination it was not, Mossglow quickly realised, and her hackles bristled as she pushed through the prickly bushes into a small clearing where the blue-eyed bicolour tomcat stood, tail swishing and ears pricked – clearly he had been waiting for them. “What do you want?” Mossglow snapped, more frustrated than anything else by this point. “My patrol’s not far off and Sunpaw’s eager to have a go at the cat who got her brother hurt.”

“I wanted to apologise,” Otter Foot mewed, his tone contrite, even regretful. “I didn’t mean to knock you out, and Splash Wing’s been assigned to care for the elders for starting the fight. I’m sorry, and I’m sure the others would say the same if they were here.”

“But they’re not. You’re alone on enemy territory – why?” Mossglow challenged the tom, her tailtip twitching. Otter Foot seemed sorry – but here he was, violating the borders again. He couldn’t be that sorry – if an apology was all he wanted, he could have waited for the Gathering.

Otter Foot seemed to deflate, and he shook his head. “Alright, alright – I wanted to see you. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that and I was worried about you. Is that enough?”

That same warm feeling Mossglow had felt in their belly kindled again and she let her hackles lie flat. Otter Foot wasn’t here to start a fight – this was something else. Maybe, just maybe, there’d been some truth to Sandstar’s teasing accusations. “I’m from the Clan, you’re from the Colony. You’re not exactly going to leave them to join us – you shouldn’t worry about me like that,” Mossglow retorted, but there was no heat in their words and they knew they were trying to convince themself as much as Otter Foot.

“But I like you, and I wanted to see you,” Otter Foot protested. “I know it’s wrong and there’s rules and things – but I can’t help how I feel. You pretend you don’t feel anything.”

“You taunted me and then squashed me unconscious!” Mossglow snapped, bristling in anger again. He really was arrogant! “What am I supposed to feel? Right now I’ve got annoyance, frustration and still a whole lot of pain – why can’t you just stay off our territory!”

Otter Foot stood and stretched, his dense fur bristling with what looked more like discomfort than irritation. “All I can say is I’m sorry, again. I was stupid and reckless – I took the old hunting trails we used to take before the borders, and started a fight rather than admit it. I’ll stay on my side of the border from now on. But if – if you change your mind and you want to see me again after all, I’ll wait beside the river where it crosses the ridge of our territories. Every night for a moon – if you change your mind, I’ll be there.”

_____________________________________________________________________

For almost a moon, Mossglow kept away from the border, more annoyed by Otter Foot’s arrogance than they were attracted by the handsome tom. But attraction and curiosity, as they so often did, won out over Mossglow’s dedication to Clan law and before the moon had passed in full she found herself padding through the forest until the ground began to slope upwards and they tracked the scent of the river to its banks.

There stood Otter Foot, thick pelt slick with water from the crossing and his blue eyes gleaming softly in the clear light of the near-full moon. Mossglow felt their heart catch just a little – he had waited. He had meant it. “You really waited, all that time,” they murmured, and the last of their resistance crumbled.

“I said that I would,” Otter Foot mewed softly. “I know I said I’d wait for a moon – but I would have waited longer for you.”

Mossglow crossed the last few tail-lengths between them in a couple of bounds, brushing up under the taller cat’s head with a rusty purr. She hadn’t much practice at being sweet or affectionate, most toms wanted a she-cat or at least someone smaller and softer, but Otter Foot didn’t seem to mind as they twined together and settled into a hollow scoop in the riverbed.

The two cats talked and played together and when the night had passed, they crept back to their respective camps, a guilty little hope kindling deep in Mossglow’s chest at the memory and the thought of more. From then on they met most nights on the bank of the river where it crossed the ridge. Otter Foot taught Mossglow to swim, and Mossglow taught him to climb – but mostly their time was spent with each other and eventually, as such things go, Mossglow found themself to be expecting kits. Clan law stated that an expectant parent wasn’t required to reveal who had sired their kits, but that didn’t keep Mossglow’s Clanmates from prying and guessing who the other parent might be.

The most common guess was Sandstar, and that shamed Mossglow further – they’d always had close feelings for the lithe cream tabby, but their duties had kept them both busy and apart and with their Clanmates speculating, it only served as a sharp reminder of what she wished there might have been between the two of them.

Sandstar approached Mossglow one evening and settled down with a rabbit to share. “Mossglow, I know the kits aren’t mine,” they began, ears flattened with worry. “I won’t ask you to tell me whose they are – I think I already know. But I know they’re your kits too, and... I wanted to say, I’ll be here for you and them both. We can say they’re mine, or let cats think it on their own... I don’t want to see the others drive you out of the Clan over this.”

“You’d do that for me?” Mossglow asked, feeling even more deeply ashamed. “You’re not – hurt that they aren’t yours, you’re not going to throw me out?”

Sandstar shrugged and pressed close to Mossglow so that their pelts touched. “Of course I’m sad they aren’t mine. But our duties kept us apart, and it would have been arrogant to just – expect you to wait around forever for me.” they replied quietly, and nudged the rabbit closer.

Mossglow took a bite of the fresh-kill, warm enough still that they could still imagine it hopping across the grassy hills that made up the half of GladeClan’s territory that lay towards the sunset, and felt a surge of hope in their chest at the simple sharing of touch and a meal. They’d been frightened to discover the pregnancy, and more worried still when Otter Foot didn’t meet them at the border – but Sandstar had brought them some measure of reassurance.

“If you’re willing to let the Clan think they’re yours... I haven’t seen their father in some time. I don’t think he’s coming back – and I don’t want to raise them alone,” Mossglow finally agreed hesitantly, hope mingling with bitterness in their chest as they finally admitted to themself what they had suspected since Otter Foot stopped coming to the border. It had never been anything serious for him.

____________________________________________________________________

Another moon and some passed, and Mossglow gave birth to four healthy kits – Adderkit, Ivykit, Mousekit and Thornkit. They and Sandstar maintained the lie that the kits were Sandstar’s, but that lie was a difficult one to maintain once the kits were born – Sandstar was a pale cream and any litter of theirs would have been expected to be ginger or tortoiseshell themselves, while these kits were dark coated and splotched with white. Ivykit was more white than the dark tabby that showed through in a few patches, Thornkit was black with white mittens and Mousekit was grey with the same – while Adderkit was a tabby like Mossglow but instead of black stripes his markings were deep chocolate, the same telltale hue as his father’s pelt.

Sandstar doted on the kits anyway, ignoring the rumours flying about the Clan, and for the moment they and Mossglow were content. But Mossglow could not ignore the watchful glares of the medicine cat Crookedleap and his gossipy ginger-and-white apprentice, and she felt perpetually on edge – like something was coming, and no matter how cautious they were she would be caught off-guard when it struck. Mossglow wasn’t alone anymore, they couldn’t take risks – whatever was coming, their kits were at the greatest risk.

When the kits were perhaps half a moon old or a little more, the storm broke. Mossglow was nursing them early one morning when a cry rang out across the hollow – not a cry of a cat in pain or frightened, this was a call for attention. “All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath the Great Rock!”

Mossglow’s fur prickled with suspicion, and she gently detached the kits and settled them back in their nest before padding out of the den with hackles bristling and tail lashing. It was presumptuous enough for the medicine cat to call a meeting rather than the leader – but instinct told them this was more than just presumption.

“I have had a sign from StarClan!” Crookedleap announced, and swung his broad tabby head around toward Mossglow with a snarl. “StarClan have spoken – those kits are not of GladeClan and they bring death with them.”

Mossglow’s gut twisted even as the Clan broke out in a ruckus of disagreeing opinions. Where was Sandstar? No, no, of course – Sandstar was on the morning patrol, that was why Crookedleap had started this now.

“If Sandstar says the kits are theirs, who are we to argue?” Sharpwing, formerly Sharppaw, piped up with a loyal glance back at Mossglow. “They’re GladeClan kits, Mossglow is our deputy.”

“StarClan’s authority is greater than Sandstar’s,” Crookedleap growled. “I know not why our leader chose to lie and protect their deputy, but those are not his kits – their father is Otter Foot of the Sundown Colony. Just look at them, they’re all just like him – not a spot of Sandstar among any of them.”

Mossglow trembled, but they held their ground and lifted their chin to challenge Crookedleap. “Does it matter who helped to conceive the kits? Sandstar claimed them, those are their kits by any law that matters.”

“StarClan has spoken, and they will bring death to the Clan! We must cast them out!” Crookedleap howled, fur spiking along his spine and for the first time, Mossglow saw the limping medicine cat as a truly formidable foe. Whether or not he believed what he was saying didn’t matter – he was saying it powerfully enough that some of the Clan were listening to him. Even Sharpwing’s sisters Sundapple and Crowflight was glaring suspiciously at Mossglow, and she backed into the nursery with a snarl, spiking up her fur to amplify her already formidable height.

“I’ll bring death if any of you touch them,” Mossglow vowed grimly, teeth bared and whiskers trembling with rage. They had never meant to be a parent, never meant for any of this to happen – but it had and now she understood the way the old queens talked about protection. Nobody would lay a whisker on her kits – nobody.

For a few days, it seemed as if the Clan had taken Mossglow’s threat seriously. Sandstar returned and fiercely scolded Crookedleap for starting such a fight over helpless kits, and the medicine cat and his apprentice went back to glaring watchfully at Mossglow whenever they thought she wasn’t looking.

But one morning, dry and heavy already as greenleaf days could be, Mossglow awoke and felt a loss before they had even quite regained consciousness. They weren’t cold, exactly – it was impossible to be cold in the high-greenleaf heat. More a loss of pressure and sensation – a loss, and it was that of their kits. As Mossglow’s heart began to beat faster and the sudden fear brought them quicker into waking, they turned to find a hole torn right through the den, leading out into the forest. There was the kits’ scent, stale with many hours passed – and another, all too bitterly familiar. Crookedleap.

Mossglow leapt to her paws and pushed through the hole in the den wall, senses alert as they tracked the scent of her kits and Crookedleap out of the foothills and into the deep forest, where it travelled steadily upward along a path all too familiar to Mossglow – that which they had followed to meet Otter Foot. It felt as if something had their heart in a fist and squeezed on it, leaving the tabby deputy breathless as she picked up the pace until she was haring up the ridgeline and across to the river – no. No, no, no – the trail had stopped here, right by the edge where they used to meet.

Surely Crookedleap wouldn’t have simply thrown the kits in. He was a medicine cat, Mossglow told herself desperately as she set off downriver, back into GladeClan territory without even a scent to follow, searching now for any sign, any scrap of fur – they were kits, they would have crawled in search of milk they told themself. Their scent was strong where the trail had ended – they must have been left there for some time, not carried across.

Finally Mossglow reached the rocky shallows where GladeClan usually crossed the river if they had to visit the northern parts of the forest. There were many places where the water ran through cracks and gaps in the rocky platforms that bridged the river, but there they were – four tiny bodies, bumping listlessly against the boulders like – like rubbish, like anything else that might wash up in a river. Mossglow howled, burning with pain and grief as she rushed to the rocky platform and desperately fished out the four sodden bodies, searching vainly for anything – a breath, a heartbeat. But the kits were as cold and still as the stones themselves.

“Thornkit, Mousekit... Ivykit, Adderkit, no,” Mossglow whispered brokenly, curling around the tiny bodies as if she could still protect them. As if she might squeeze the spirit back into them, bring them back to life through the sheer stubborn force of a parent’s love. But while the kits’ bodies grew warm from the contact and the growing heat of the day, it was not a warmth of their own and Mossglow knew it was hopeless as they grew stiff even tucked in against her belly.

Half-blind with the deepest, most instinctive grief there was, Mossglow hauled themself to their paws and staggered back into the forest, looking for the right ground. She couldn’t just leave them there, and if she buried them on the banks they would be washed right out again if the river flooded. She had to bury them properly, and deeper in the forest was a sandy hollow where Mossglow had once trained apprentices – the edge of that, that would do. Painstakingly, all alone, Mossglow dug out a wide grave perhaps three tail-lengths deep. They were too little to have graves of their own – at least in death they should be together she thought miserably. And once it was dug she trailed back to the bridge where she had left them, and one at a time carried the lifeless scraps to the sandy hollow. Her paws were worn raw and bled onto the sand and stone, but Mossglow was relentless in their determination to ensure the kits’ burial. It was warm here, the ground was dry in all but the very worst weather, and resting at the edge of the sandy hollow it would be as if they were still a part of the Clan, still a part of everyday life.

Finally the bitter task was complete and Mossglow lay down on the mound of sandy earth to rest, to be close to their kits one last time. The sun shining down on their pelt felt like a bitter gibe – the whole world was mocking their grief by going on as it always did when they had lost so much. There they lay, exhausted by sorrow and exhaustion, until the sun began to set and the warmth seeped from the ground beneath them, leaving their pelt cold and clammy.

It was time to return to the Clan. Mossglow heaved their battered body upright and set off on paws that quickly cracked again and began to bleed, leaving a bloodied trail through the forest like an omen as they staggered back to camp. The moonrise patrols had just set out by the time she returned, leaving the camp almost empty. But one scent was clear about the rest, a trail leading back to the medicine den – Crookedleap.

Mossglow bared her teeth, rage rising from her grief like a lunging shark, and she followed Crookedleap’s steps into the medicine den to where she found him sorting herbs without his apprentice, she must have been out collecting more. “You. What do you have to say for yourself?” she snarled, every hair standing on end in her fury.

Fear rose in Crookedleap’s green eyes as he whirled to face the grieving tabby, and he backed away against the wall once he realised the depth of her fury. “Me? I don’t – I don’t know-”

“Don’t lie to me, Crooks – you were a rogue when we found you and you’re a rogue now!” Mossglow spat, advancing with stiff, deliberate steps towards the cowering twist-spined medicine cat. “You made it look like a fox, but there was no smell of fox – only you, and I tracked you all the way to the river where you drowned my kits!”

Crookedleap’s eyes grew round with terror. “Drowned them? No, I – I left them at the border so their father would take them!” he stammered, giving up the lie in his fear.

There was no sympathy in Mossglow’s heart – whatever this coward had meant, her kits were dead either way. “You bee-brained scrap of rot-food – kits wander! They must have tried to find me, their eyes have only been open a week – you left them, beside the river, you walked off and left them and they drowned!” she roared. Her vision filled up with black, the colour of the kits’ water-soaked pelts and she lunged at the medicine cat, clawing at him blindly as he shrieked in pain and terror but they had no mercy left for him.

Dimly Mossglow was aware that the very one-sided fight had moved out of the medicine den and into the main camp and that their Clanmates were staring, but she didn’t care – Crookedleap was her focus and he would pay. How they’d never seen what a coward he was, Mossglow had no idea – but his cowardice and his callous cruelty had cost four of the most innocent lives.

“Mossglow! Mossglow, stop!”

A yowl rang out across the camp, finally shocking Mossglow out of their vicious haze. Crookedleap’s body lay broken and bloodied beneath their paws, as lifeless as the kits had been. Once, Mossglow might have regretted that – but now it seemed only fair he share their fate. But Sandstar’s horror was palpable on the air between them, and that took the sting out of Mossglow’s murderous fury – for the moment. “Mossglow, what are you doing?” Sandstar breathed, voice soft and hollow as they crossed the clearing to stand a few tail-lengths from them, crimson gore staining their white paws.

“He killed my kits,” Mossglow mewed, their voice breaking. Now that the one responsible was dead there was nowhere for that furious hurt to go, and it was a long way from fizzling out yet. “I woke up and found them gone, a hole torn in the den and his scent leading away with them. I found them in the river, Sandstar – he left them there and they died.”

“I don’t suppose anyone can confirm whether that is true or not?” Sandstar mewed grimly, turning their pale amber gaze on the watching Clan.

Applepaw reluctantly stepped forward, honey-gold eyes wide with fear and shock in her white-masked face. “He did leave early – Crookedleap, that is. I didn’t, think anything about it but... his scent is all over that hole in the den, I’d know – I spent all day patching it with Cherrypaw and Larchpaw” she admitted, her gaze flickering between Sandstar, Mossglow and the body of her dead mentor as if she wasn’t sure who she feared more. “He was serious about that warning from StarClan, I don’t... I don’t think it’s impossible that he could’ve done it. Ever since we all found out Mossglow was expecting, he’s been strange – on edge, quick to anger.”

“Applepaw’s right,” Mistflower chimed in. Sharpwing, Crowflight and Sundapple’s mother, she had a litter of five-moon-old kits and had been Mossglow’s denmate while they nursed their own litter. “He’s been strange about those kits, always muttering – and I heard him outside the den this morning. Early, mind, and I didn’t think anything of it – I wasn’t really awake. But like Applepaw said – his scent was all over that hole before the ‘paws muddled it up with their patching.”

“I think that makes things clear. Crookedleap took the kits - our kits - into the forest and abandoned them, and they died as a result – a terrible crime, and one that makes Mossglow’s actions understandable. But understandable is not the same as justified, and in taking that justice into their own paws, Mossglow too has broken the Warrior Code.” Sandstar said finally, each word slow and deliberate – it sounded as if their heart broke with each syllable.

“Mossglow, you are banished from the Clan. Patrols will not hunt you as long as you do not take prey, and if you buried the kits on our land you may visit their grave – but other than that, you may not set paws on our territory. You may keep your name if you wish, but you are no longer a member of this Clan.”

Mossglow stared into their leader’s eyes, their closest friend who had slowly become their new mate. And as ravaged with grief as she was, she understood Sandstar’s decision. She couldn’t remain in the Clan after this, not after she had killed a Clanmate so brutally in their own camp – even if her reasons for doing so could be understood by anyone. Two crimes didn’t make right, StarClan had taught them that – and Sandstar was not the subject of Mossglow’s ire, their grief for the kits they had claimed as their own was as plainly visible as the moonlight on their pale face. “I buried them beside the sandy training hollow,” Mossglow croaked, voice hoarse with pain and exertion. “He’d taken them all the way to the great river where it crosses the sunrising border, and they washed down to the rock crossing – so I buried them by the hollow inland from there. I wanted them to be a part of the Clan still, even if I can’t be.”

Sandstar padded forward, carefully skirting Crookedleap’s torn body so that they might touch their nose to Mossglow’s one last time. “Thankyou, for telling me where you buried the kits. I know they weren’t mine but... they felt like mine, I would have raised them as such,” they whispered, voice breaking. On another cat, it might have been presumptuous – they had been Mossglow’s kits first and foremost, but she had accepted their offer to act as another parent to the kits and that gave them a fair claim, at least in her mind. Perhaps their grief was not equal to theirs, but it would have been a foolish cat to deny its existence and it comforted Mossglow some to know that the kits would be remembered, visited, cared for now that she had to leave them.

“And as for Crookedleap... He will be buried civilly but without the honour of a medicine cat, his actions stripped him of that rank,” Sandstar added finally. Perhaps it was meant as a reassurance, but Mossglow was too numb inside for that to matter. There was no honour they could give back to such a ruined body – she had taken that from him and could muster no regret at doing so.

“You should choose Acornfall as deputy. I know my word means nothing anymore, but – they were a good mentor to Sundapple, there’s a level head on their shoulders even if they’re young for it,” Mossglow replied huskily, before she turned and padded away. Her tail brushed Sandstar’s hip before they broke contact, and she felt the sandy ground turn grassy under her paws as she drew near to the camp entrance.

“I’ll visit the kits,” Sandstar called after them by way of farewell. “I won’t forget them – or you. None of us will.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Mossglow headed starward out of the territory, back toward the river that had claimed their kits’ lives. They found the little grave once more and slept there until dawn, but then it was time to move – Mossglow was no longer a Clan cat and while she doubted the Clan would chase her from her kits’ grave, it would be better not to overstay her welcome. And besides... Sandstar was not the subject of her ire, but that did not mean she felt her vengeance had been settled.

No, there was one cat who had caused all of this – who had toyed with her and then abandoned her and left their kits to die at the border. Who had stopped visiting as soon as he had noticed that Mossglow was pregnant. Perhaps Otter Foot’s crime in this was not as bad as Crookedleap’s, but nobody was going to hold him to account for it save Mossglow.

So Mossglow’s paws led them starward and then once they had crossed the river she turned toward where the sun rose each morning and set off for the Colony’s camp. She’d been there on messenger patrols once or twice but it was unfamiliar, and Mossglow’s pelt prickled with apprehension. Just confront him. See what happens, they reminded themself as their claws slid out by reflex.

Soon the great stone hollow that made up the Colony camp came into view and Mossglow forced her prickling pelt to lie flat as she padded wearily over the crest of the hill and set off down the slope toward the camp. It had been two sunrises since the loss of her kits now, and while she had slept she hadn’t slept well – and that was made clear in every line of her worn body.

You are reading story Mossglow’s Redemption at novel35.com

“Stop! Who’s there!” A voice rang out over the sparsely wooded hillside, and Mossglow halted abruptly, their tail fluffing up at the surprise. A long-legged tabby-tortoiseshell loped the rest of the way up the hill to greet them, flanked by a younger black-and-white patched tomcat and a she-cat, very alike in appearance to the other with grey patches instead of black. Hare Dapple, Splash Wing – and that other cat must be Splash Wing’s sister, Mossglow thought to herself, though they didn’t recall her name – no, Moon Cloud, that was it.

“Mossglow, of – well, formerly, of GladeClan,” Mossglow introduced themself with a prickly lash of their tail. “I need to speak with Otter Foot, it’s urgent.”

Hare Dapple’s patched face was impassive, but Mossglow caught the grey-and-white younger cat snickering and curled her lip irritably. Hare Dapple flicked Moon Cloud with her tail and glared at both young cats before she spoke again. “You can’t just come onto our territory asking for a meeting – and last I heard you were GladeClan’s deputy, so you’ll forgive me for holding a little mistrust now that you say you’re not part of the Clan anymore. But if you really must speak with him... well, you can sit here and wait with me while Moon Cloud here goes and fetches him.”

Moon Cloud turned away and bounced off down the hill to the camp, while Splash Wing, Hare Dapple and Mossglow settled themselves down in the grass in an uncomfortable silence. “So... how do you know Otter Foot anyway? Aside from that border fight, I can’t think how you’d know him,” Splash Wing asked. The question seemed good-natured enough, though Mossglow couldn’t quite shake a suspicion that even if Splash Wing didn’t know what was going on – others in the colony must do. There had been a moon and a half where Mossglow knew she was expecting kits, and three quarters of a moon in which the kits had lives – all of which was plenty of time for that to have been announced at a Gathering as new life usually was.

And indeed, Mossglow caught a flicker of a glare on Hare Dapple’s face at the black-and-white tomcat’s query. “If he hasn’t told you, I’m certainly not going to,” Mossglow snapped bad-temperedly.

Hare Dapple flicked an ear, but the calm she-cat seemed almost approving of the sharp retort. “I’ll thank you not to leave clawmarks on one of our newest sharpclaws, even if they are only verbal,” she replied wryly. “But Mossglow has a point, Splash Wing – if you don’t know already, mind your own business or at least have the decency to gossip in private.”

Luckily, Moon Cloud returned shortly after that with Otter Foot in tow, along with a fluffy white she-cat – much to Mossglow’s discomfort. “We’ll be alright here, Hare Dapple, if you and the newest ‘claws want to go back to camp and eat, this won’t take long,” Otter Foot told Hare Dapple in that arrogant, blustery way of his that for such a short time had seemed so charming to Mossglow.

Hare Dapple, Splash Wing and Moon Cloud left them, clearly eager to escape an awkward situation, and Mossglow shifted from paw to paw as the fluffy white she-cat looked her over with a disappointed sort of air. “You said she was pretty, but I don’t see it,” she mewed, and pressed closer to Otter Foot. “That new Clan are more rogues than anything else, I mean, look at her – is that blood? You’d leave that there and not wash it off?”

Mossglow curled her lip and flattened her ears. “I buried all four of my kits last sunrise, so I’d appreciate if you left my appearance out of this,” she rasped, and was satisfied when the she-cat’s blue eyes grew wide with horror.

“I’m sorry – no wonder you’re looking so rough. I can’t imagine losing my little ones – they’re only a quarter moon old, my sister Frost Feather is looking after them for me. I’m Snow River,” the white she-cat introduced herself. Her words were sympathetic but her tone held something dark, almost mocking, and Mossglow knew deep in her chest that those kits must be Otter Foot’s. She added it up in her head and her gut twisted painfully – if the kits were a quarter moon old, that would make them half a moon younger than the ones Mossglow had just lost – and it would match up about right with when Otter Foot had stopped visiting.

“Why are you here, Mossglow?” Otter Foot asked brusquely, with a sharp sideways glance at the cat who must be his mate – taunting a grieving parent must be too low even for him. So he still felt some loyalty to her... if only it had been enough for him to stay!

“I lost my kits and I lost my Clan in my anger,” Mossglow replied bitterly. “I thought... hoped, at least that there might be something for me here. They were your kits too.”

Snow River lifted her lip and hissed, but it was Otter Foot who spoke. “Mossglow, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry that you lost your kits, and I enjoyed our time together – but we were never really mates, it wasn’t that serious. Snow River and I have been together since we were both softpaws.”

That bitter rage curdled in Mossglow’s gut and rose up their throat until they were choking on it. “It was serious for me,” they spat, claws sliding out. “And you led me to believe it was serious for you too. I lost my Clan over this – if they’d been anybody else’s kits they would still be here, but because they were yours, they were taken and abandoned. Left at the border to fall in the river before any of your patrols found them. I lost my family because of you!”

Otter Foot was large, powerful and flanked by another cat while Mossglow was thin, battered and starved from mourning. But those advantages made him arrogant – well, more arrogant than usual – and that arrogance made him careless. A better warrior would have tucked his chin to protect from Mossglow’s lunge, but Mossglow had always been the better warrior and her teeth met in his throat. He went limp, but Mossglow had used that very same trick herself and bit down harder, then tore away with a spray of blood that splattered over all three of them. Mossglow spat out the flesh and fur and stared down at the cat who had once been her mate. She hadn’t expected the fight to be over so soon. She hadn’t meant to kill him that quickly – though if they were honest with themself, it was just as it had been with Crookedleap – they could not muster any sorrow that they had killed him.

“Otter Foot! No, you – you barbaric rogue!” Snow River shrieked, her white pelt splattered with gore as she faced Mossglow over the dead body of their shared mate, his lifeblood still pulsing from the hole torn in his throat.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. Not that fast. He forgot to tuck his chin – an apprentice mistake,” Mossglow mewed woodenly, staring down at the body. Otter Foot’s blue eyes reflected the greenleaf sky above, and for a moment Mossglow thought she caught a glimpse of starlight in them, a tiny reflected tail – but that was impossible. She must be hallucinating, grief did strange things to a mind.

Like make one into a killer, some deep part of Mossglow’s mind muttered, and they curled their lip and rounded on Snow River, claws unsheathed. “No, wait! My kits, you can’t – they’ll starve!” Snow River cried, but Mossglow was merciless.

“Because of your and Otter Foot’s games, mine drowned,” Mossglow snarled, and lunged at the quailing she-cat. This time there was more of a fight, and Snow River got in several vicious slashes, but it ended the same way – this time with Mossglow’s teeth around her spine and a neck broken as easily as they might have done a squirrel’s.

“Be satisfied that your kits have more of a chance than mine did,” Mossglow growled as the white she-cat gasped her last breaths. Suddenly weary she stepped away from the corpses and sat down in the grass for a moment to rest, ears pricked. No – they couldn’t wait, Snow River’s shriek must have carried down the hill and already Mossglow could hear cats stirring in the camp below. It was time to move, and she dragged herself to aching paws and set off at a brisk trot starward and sundown-wise, back across the border to the unclaimed lands where she now had to carve out a home for herself. Her vengeance was settled, she mused bitterly as she crossed the border, feeling as if she trailed a blood stream behind her. Better cross the stream to lose the trail... she had no one else to hunt and that meant she had to disappear.

_____________________________________________________________________

Mossglow retreated across the starward border and set up camp in a sandy hollow where the pines and broad-leafed trees mingled together, across the great river from GladeClan territory. For a little more than a quarter moon they were left to mourn in peace, alone with their misery. All those at fault in their kits’ death had died now themselves, save only Mossglow themself – and that guilt and grief weighed heavy on them. They barely stirred to hunt and grew thin and ragged with the neglect, their eyes dull and their fur patchy.

Another cat might have been left alone to die, but Mossglow had killed two more cats since her exile and that made her a GladeClan problem still – one that couldn’t stand un-challenged. Late one afternoon Mossglow was disturbed from their rest in the sunlight by a familiar scent, and at first she thought that she had imagined it in her grief – until a familiar cream-and-white pelt was revealed in the sunlight as Sandstar padded into the hollow where Mossglow had made their camp.

“Sandstar?” Mossglow mewed, hardly believing their eyes. But Sandstar’s amber eyes were hard and their movements stiff as they crossed the hollow, every trace of their former friendship firmly squashed down.

“I’ve come to ask you to leave,” Sandstar replied, their tone cordial but unmistakeably stern. “The previous allowance for you to cross our borders and visit the kits’ grave is rescinded after your attack on the Colony, and I must ask you to move further away. Please understand, this is a last courtesy offered to you as a former member of our Clan and if you do not go willingly, I will be forced to allow the Colony to send a patrol and deal with you themselves.”

“And drive me away? Away from my kits, the home we built together?” Mossglow retorted sharply. “My housefolk are dead and I don’t know any land but this. Where else could I possibly go?”

“That is no longer my problem,” Sandstar replied in a stony voice. “You lost the right to this land when you took Crookedleap’s life. Whatever he had done, his punishment was mine to mete out. And then when you were punished for that, you crossed borders and killed two others – why, Mossglow? Why take their lives and force me to take this course of action against you?”

“I don’t know – because Otter Foot abandoned me and our kits, because their patrol didn’t get to the kits in time to save them, because he had another mate the whole time he was with me? Because it wasn’t right that they live happy while I suffered? I don’t know and it doesn’t matter anymore,” Mossglow spat, the fur along their spine prickling furiously.

“It should matter, Mossglow. That’s what Bluestar and the other warriors of StarClan taught us – that we might take lives but never lightly, and never outside of battle. That’s the way of a warrior. I thought you understood it,” Sandstar mewed, their voice breaking over the words.

“I won’t stand here and justify myself to you,” Mossglow growled. “I won’t pretend that I’m sorry they’re dead – the only deaths that mattered were those of Adderkit, Ivykit, Mosskit and Thornkit. Anything after that, it’s meaningless.”

“And I can’t make you sorry,” Sandstar replied bitterly. “But I can – I must, make you leave. The Colony will not tolerate your presence so close to their borders.”

“And I suppose you’re here to drive me off, old friend?” Mossglow snipped back. “You never could beat me in a fair fight.”

Sandstar shrugged, their pale pelt bristling. “I have nine lives and you have one. This is not a fair fight, and you will leave by the end of it.”

Mossglow snarled and let her claws slide out, finally roused to genuine anger against her old friend and mate. “I won’t leave, not from where I buried them,” she hissed, and tucked her chin to protect her throat as Sandstar lunged at her, sheath-clawed paws leaving only the beginnings of bruises across her thick-furred chest.

“You’re not welcome – not after what you did! I can’t have that risk to my Clan and our neighbour!” Sandstar retorted, finally unsheathing their claws as Mossglow blocked every blow.

“I’d never have come back to the Clan – only ever crossed back to the grave every so often!” Mossglow spat as finally a blow slipped through and Sandstar’s claws raked across the side of their neck.

“How can you say that? Vengeance is never satisfied – there is always, always the chance you could turn against us if your mind convinced you that more of us were to blame for the kits’ death!” Sandstar spat. “You might have gone after Applefur for being Crookedleap’s apprentice despite how she grieves for her mentor’s dishonour, or Mistflower for not waking up in time – vengeance can find any reason, once you took it out on Snow River it became clear that none of us were safe from you!”

Mossglow had no clever retort for that. If they were honest with themself, Sandstar had a point – her need to avenge her kits had turned her against a cat she had once loved, would it be such a stretch to fear it might turn her against her former Clan? And distracted by that, Mossglow failed to block Sandstar’s next blow and the cream-and-white leader’s unsheathed claws slashed across their throat.

Blood gushed from the wound, staining Mossglow’s sandy chest as she fell to the ground, staring down at the wound in shock. She knew deep in her gut that the wound was fatal, as bright arterial blood spilled out onto the sandy ground of the hollow and her breathing grew shallow and quick as she struggled to stay conscious, but it was no use – the edges of her vision were beginning to grow dark and her body numb.

“I’m sorry, Mossglow,” Sandstar murmured, crouching down at their former mate’s side as her vision darkened and her breathing began to slow. “I never wanted it to come to this... you will be buried beside your kits, I’ll see to it.”

Mossglow bared her teeth and flattened her ears, one final show of defiance. “Don’t... think... that will make us – even,” she hissed, fighting for each word. “I – I will never, forgive this, never.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Mossglow awoke in a clinging darkness, lit only sporadically by the sickly glow of a strange fungus that grew on the trunks and roots of pale, leafless trees. This was not the darkness of death, or even the darkness of night – for there were no stars in this place, nor a moon, and instinctively Mossglow knew that this was the place Bluestar and the other StarClan warriors had warned them about when she and Sandstar formed the Clan – the Dark Forest, or the Place of No Stars. The afterlife for cats whose actions had been too dark, too evil to allow them into StarClan.

“So, a new spirit joins our ranks,” a sly, mocking voice whispered from the unnatural shadows, and Mossglow’s fur spiked up as she whirled around in an attempt to spot them, but she caught only a glimpse of bristling grey-and-white fur before its owner vanished. As Mossglow looked for them, she caught sight of her own paws – faintly translucent and trailing shadows with each step so that she almost blended into the darkness of the Forest itself.

A new spirit, Mossglow realised grimly, her heart twisting. From the moment she had learned of StarClan she had expected to join their ranks when her time was up, but she had destroyed any chance of that when she took Otter Foot and Snow River’s lives, she realised now. Crookedleap’s death had been a justified one, the others... that had been murder. And now in the Dark Forest, she had all the time in the world to ruminate bitterly on that – nowhere to go, nothing to do but think.

Without the moon or stars, there was no way to tell how much time passed in the Dark Forest and Mossglow kept to herself, alone in her bitterness. Some of the other spirits amused themselves by tampering with the dreams of living cats or plotting to break into the waking world, but Mossglow had no such interests – her enemies were dead and now so was she. All that was left to do was wait for the end of time.

Each day passed undistinguished into the next, until the day a glint of starlight caught Mossglow’s eye. True starlight, not the sickly gleam of the fungus. Mossglow dragged themself to their paws and slunk through the half-tangible shadow brambles towards the silvery gleam. There, among the thorns and slick oily mud, was a kit. Starry-pelted, almost all white patched with tabby...

“Ivykit?” Mossglow mewed, horror and fear mingling with disbelief.

The kit whirled around, eyes open wide – they were the same blue Ivykit’s had been, but as Mossglow looked closer she realised that the kit’s tabby patches were chocolate-striped, not black-striped as Ivykit’s had been. “No, I’m Ferret Foot,” the kit chirped back. “Do you know where we are? I think I’m lost.”

“You certainly are lost...” Mossglow murmured, still staring at the kit. She was so very similar to Ivykit, the same build and markings – but chocolate tabby, instead of black... this could only be Otter Foot’s kit. One of Snow River’s kits... and in a way, that made Mossglow responsible for her death. Responsible for her presence here.

All at once, Mossglow came to a decision. Their need for vengeance had caused them to take three lives and then brought their own to an end, but it hadn’t ended there – now this innocent kit was dead and that was as bitter a tragedy as the loss of Mossglow’s own kits. That vengeance could go no further and they had a responsibility to make sure of that. “Stay close to me. This is a very bad place, and the cats here won’t be kind if they find you. I’ll keep you safe as best I can, but we have to get you to StarClan.”

Ferret Foot nodded, fear turning her silent and obedient. She was too big for Mossglow to pick up and carry easily, perhaps two moons old, but she followed along carefully enough as Mossglow picked a path for them both through the unfriendly undergrowth.

“Who’s this? A little star-kitten on the wrong side of the border?”

A sly voice rang out of the shadows and Mossglow instinctively stepped over the kit to protect her as the great grey-and-white tomcat she had come to know as Thistleclaw padded out from behind a tree. “And our newest dark spirit, protecting her. What a disappointment,” the spike-furred tom drawled mockingly. “You know, I had a kit once – he even looked a bit like you.”

“And I suppose you killed him?” Mossglow retorted, their fur fluffing out as Ferret Foot trembled beneath their belly.

Thistleclaw’s eyes widened. “Of course not! He died in battle many moons after I did. I may not have been much of the loving sort, but I wouldn’t kill a kit – at least, not my own,” he replied with a mocking leer at Mossglow and the shrinking kit.

“Then let us pass,” Mossglow mewed, her voice trembling. “I’m just taking her back to the border, that’s all.”

“Oh no. No-one leaves this place,” Thistleclaw drawled, and Mossglow felt the prickle of many more eyes on her pelt as other Dark Forest cats padded out from the shadows. “The kit is one of ours now – as are you.”

“I’m not fighting in your war on the living, and neither is this kit!” Mossglow spat. There were too many Dark Forest spirits, too many to defeat – and Mossglow had grown weary of killing. She bent and snatched up Ferret Foot in her jaws, and whirled around for a gap in the ranks of shadowed spirits – there, between the heavyset tortoiseshell and the amber-eyed brown tabby, she hadn’t cared to learn their names and she wasn’t about to start now as she dashed between them.

Somebody’s claws raked across Mossglow’s shoulder and she choked down a yowl of pain, her jaws still firmly clamped around the kit’s scruff as she raced through slimy undergrowth and dead trees. She’d found her way to the border of StarClan once or twice but there were no landmarks in the Dark Forest, no way to tell direction – all she could do was hope that her own stubbornness and the kit’s deserving spirit would lead them there.

Hope and stubbornness eventually prevailed, and Mossglow soon found themself at the border of the glittering lands of StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting, having left all pursuers behind. They set the kit down and glanced around, but they were alone – there was no cat-scent anywhere nearby, from either side of the border.

“Will you come with me? I’m scared, I don’t know where to go – how will I find anyone?” Ferret Foot asked, her high voice so heart-wrenchingly similar to Ivykit’s.

Mossglow’s heart twisted, and she shook her head. “Little one – I made dark choices when I was alive. I belong here, on this side of the border – I can’t follow you,” she replied quietly. “In a way, it’s my fault you’re here at all – my name is Mossglow. You might have heard of me.”

Ferret Foot flinched, but to Mossglow’s admiration she stood her ground. “Of course I know you - you killed my mother,” the kit replied steadily. “Frost Feather didn’t have enough milk for all of us and I – I died. Doesn’t that mean you’re sort of, responsible for me? You owe me. Take me to the other cats, wherever they make their camp – then you can go back to your punishment. Shouldn’t a life debt come before that?”

“You’re wise, for a kit,” Mossglow remarked wryly. The kit’s words sparked shame in her and she couldn’t help but quail a little before Ferret Foot’s accusatory gaze. It was her fault this kit was here – Snow River had begged for mercy for the sake of her kits and she had offered none. For the first time, she genuinely regretted that action – and felt terribly ashamed that it had taken a kit’s death for her to feel that way. “Very well. You’re right – there’s nobody about and it wouldn’t be fair to leave you here. Let’s go find your ancestors.”

Ferret Foot padded across the border, and with a flicker of caution and fear, Mossglow crossed over after her. There were no hostile eyes here, and the two of them moved at an easy trot across the starry hillsides, tracking a scent trail similar to Ferret Foot’s own that was the best guess they had at the location of her ancestors.

After what felt like many hours of walking, Mossglow and Ferret Foot arrived at the entrance of a great stone hollow not unlike the Colony’s camp in the living world. Several spirits stood on guard, and to Mossglow’s surprise they weren’t all Colony ancestors – she recognised Whitestorm from the vision that had led to GladeClan’s formation, and a number of others whose names she did not know.

“Mossglow,” Whitestorm greeted them with a dip of his proud head. “And Ferret Foot – welcome to you both.”

Mossglow’s pelt prickled and she nudged Ferret Foot forward before backing away. “He’ll help you find your ancestors. You’re going to be alright now, Iv- Ferret Foot.”

Whitestorm’s whiskers twitched and he shook his head. “I did say welcome to you both – don’t you want to see your kits, Mossglow?” he asked them.

Mossglow’s heart twinged and she felt a wave of longing wash over her – her kits, they were here in StarClan. Of course they would be protected in this great meeting-place of ancestors. “Of course, but – I’m a Dark Forest cat. I belong there,” she replied, voice cracking with pain.

Whitestorm’s deep purr seemed to rumble right through the stones beneath their paws. “You are welcome to go back – if that is where you truly believe you belong. But you have a choice – look at your own paws.”

Mossglow looked down, wondering for a moment if Whitestorm was toying with her – but that was not the sort of cat he was, and as Mossglow looked she saw something truly astonishing – instead of shadows, her pelt was flecked with stars just as Whitestorm and Ferret Foot’s were. “I don’t understand,” she mewed, turning in circles to catch a glimpse of her own starry tail. “I killed cats, I was in the Dark Forest-”

“Your bitterness took you to the Dark Forest, and your bitterness kept you there. But in saving Ferret Foot, you let it go – and you were able to cross over. We choose our own paths in life, why would our afterlives be any different? There are no arbiters here – only our own choices,” Whitestorm purred, resting his plumy tail on Mossglow’s shoulder to still her fidgeting. “Now come on – I know of four little faces that have missed you terribly.”

With Ferret Foot at her heels, Mossglow bounded after Whitestorm into the rocky hollow. There, at the foot of a great rock beside the stream that ran through the middle, were four little figures she could have recognised anywhere and her heart ached at the sight as she abandoned Whitestorm and Ferret Foot and rushed to greet them. “Adderkit! Ivykit, Mousekit – Thornkit, oh, I missed you all so much,” she breathed, burying her nose in Mousekit’s fluffy grey coat while the other three climbed all over her face and shoulders.

“I’ve been taking care of them for you,” another familiar voice interjected, and Mossglow raised their head from the kits to meet Crookedleap’s forest-green gaze. Her pelt bristled and stood on end and she swept the kits behind her protectively as she hissed at the chocolate tabby, his spine still twisted even in death.

“You! How are you here – you were as guilty as I!” Mossglow snarled.

“I wondered the same,” Crookedleap admitted ruefully, his own pelt lying flat, and slowly Mossglow began to let hers do the same. “But Bluestar and Whitestorm helped me to understand that I was here to protect the kits until you found your way back to them. I truly regret my actions – StarClan meant their words as a warning that kits born of a cross-faction relationship might inspire distrust and violence, and I should have protected them. Instead, I acted just as StarClan feared others might.”

Mossglow finally relented, though their tail still twitched back and forth with tension. “I cannot forgive you, and I cannot pretend that I am sorry I made you suffer for killing my kits. But Whitestorm was right – I let go of that bitterness when I crossed over, we have all paid many times over for those deaths. I have no wish to fight you any more, and I am glad that my kits had someone to protect them while I was... lost, but... I cannot forgive you, and I do not wish to make small talk and play at peace with you. Thankyou, for protecting the kits – but that was a debt paid, not a kindness; and now we will find our own corner of StarClan. We will be civil in this meeting-place, we will not set the living against each-other – but that is all,” she replied frostily.

Crookedleap bowed his head, accepting Mossglow’s judgment, and they turned away with kits in tow so that they might explore the starry hunting grounds and find a little camp of their own. There was land like every aspect of the living world here, and they wandered for a time until they found forests like the ones they had left behind and settled there in a little sunny clearing. The hunting was good and the kits appeared older than they had in life – some strange quirk of the afterlife that allowed them to grow up despite having been denied that in life; and while Mossglow doubted they would ever truly grow up, they were old enough to learn to hunt alongside her.

And in that forest, for a time, they were happy. The end of time was a distant thought, not something to wish for, and the little family knew peace for the first time since their deaths. Mossglow and Crookedleap crossed paths every so often and they were cordial when they did so, but for the most part the little family kept to themself in the woods that would become GladeClan’s territory among the stars. Time passed, though the seasons mattered nothing among the stars, and in time other members of GladeClan joined them in the forest – Grayear who died even as her kits were born, Hazelnose and Moondust who fell to greencough, Acornfall who drowned in the same river that had claimed the kits’ life – until one day an achingly familiar cream tabby joined them among the stars, their amber eyes warm with the love they had shared in life.

“Sandstar,” Mossglow greeted their former mate. There was sorrow between them, for their respective deaths and for the fight that had claimed Mossglow’s life when last they met – but if Mossglow was honest with themself, they had forgiven Sandstar for that many moons ago and now all that was left was love and a quiet joy, joy that despite death they had another chance at togetherness.

“Mossglow – I had feared you would not find your way here,” Sandstar replied, bounding eagerly forward so that their pelts brushed and they could twine their tails together, physical affection filling the gap that words could not.

“I didn’t, at first,” Mossglow admitted warmly, as the two of them settled into a sunny nook to watch the kits play at combat in the leaf-strewn clearing. “I was lost, I don’t know for how long. But Whitestorm told me – he told me, that we choose our own paths in death as well as life. There’s no court to decide who gets into StarClan – the only one keeping me out was me. And I can’t pretend to ever forgive Crookedleap, or that Otter Foot is exactly my favourite cat here, but... I can move on. And I’m glad I managed to do so, to be here for my kits, and for you when it was your time.”

Sandstar pressed their forehead to Mossglow’s, and the two of them soaked up the sunlight together in their little corner of the heavens. “I’m glad that you managed to find peace. Now the six of us can share that peace, and watch over GladeClan for as long as they need us.”

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