[TB] DAWN -- Chapter 15

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The cats could not move until the dust from the monster had cleared, and it was very clear why – Sandstorm, ThunderClan’s deputy, was gone.

Stoneheart stared at the point where the monster had disappeared from sight altogether, feel numb. Sandstorm had been his mentor when he lived in ThunderClan – she was brave, fast, strong-willed... and now she was gone.

The other cats were just as stunned – even Tawnypelt and Falcontail, who were still recovering from being thrust out of the monster before it fled. Sandstorm had been a popular, well-known cat in all the Clans.

“What... do we do now?” Robinwing’s voice was hesitant, breaking the silence like birdsong at dawn.

No cat could respond. Stoneheart turned his head, looking them all over – they were dusty and tired-looking, but none were worse for wear. The cats that had been held captive by the Twolegs even looked better fed than their Clanmates... if Stoneheart weren’t so stunned about Sandstorm, he might have felt envious of that.

It was Mistyfoot who stepped up. Stoneheart could see her eyes wavering with emotion, but it did not show in her voice: “We have to go.”

“She’s right,” Wolftooth agreed, pulling himself to his paws. “Those Twolegs will bring more of their own. We don’t have long before this place is swarming with them.”

“But what about Sandstorm?” Cloudtail protested. Her white tail was fluffed to its ends, her eyes wide with disbelief. Beside her, Brightheart and Swiftfoot were just as shaken. Cloudtail searched the eyes of every cat there when she went on, “She’s Tinystar’s mate – she's our deputy! We can’t just leave her!”

It was Stoneheart who croaked, “We don’t have any choice.” Once again, he recalled what Branch had said: “Sandstorm was taken by a monster... she’s going to be so deep in Twolegplace no cat could find her.” Not even Branch, likely... and it’s not like we have the time to waste on another search through Twolegplace!

“Stoneheart is right,” Rowanclaw meowed. “We have to go back.”

Stoneheart blinked gratefully at his mate, and Rowanclaw blinked back, turning to silently touch his nose to Stoneheart’s.

“Then let’s go,” Onewhisker decided. He stretched his legs, and called, “Tawnypelt! Falcontail! Come on!”

Both RiverClan cats trotted up to the group. Tawnypelt’s eyes shone with gratitude despite the sorrowful air, and she bowed her head deeply. “Thank you, all of you – I thought I would be stuck in that den forever.”

A golden tom, one that Stoneheart recalled was taken into the Twoleg monster, padded forward. His eyes shone on Tawnypelt with familiarity, and he touched his nose to her ear, purring, “We would’ve figured it out, Tawny.”

“Root...” Tawnypelt sighed.

Falcontail curled his lip, taking a step away from the two. Stoneheart found it curious how close Tawnypelt and this loner seemed, but it wasn’t his business to linger on the thought. There were far more pressing matters, and he wasn’t the only one to think so.

Mistyfoot had already taken up the lead, Crowpaw by her side. Wordlessly, she led the way across the wasteland of ThunderClan territory, tail up. The others followed, their pace slowed by grief and exhaustion. Stoneheart lagged to the back, his tail dragging.

He couldn’t help it – each sight he saw, even if they were almost unrecognizable, flung him back to his time in ThunderClan again. Sandstorm had taught him how to root out shrews there, or how to catch a rabbit here... His head spun like a nest of bees, misery clutching at his chest as he came to terms with the fact that he might never see her again.

Rowanclaw slowed his pace to match Stoneheart’s. “She’ll be okay,” he murmured quietly, touching his nose to Stoneheart’s ear. “It’s Sandstorm! She’d never let the Twolegs drag her down.”

She might not have a choice... Stoneheart didn’t say it. Twolegs were just so much bigger than cats, and so incomprehensible at times. Who knew what they would do? He didn’t understand how cats like Tucker or Cody or Branch could be so comfortable with Twolegs! Didn’t they feel powerless?

The group trudged through the wasteland and into the forest, and the sun began to head for the horizon. Stoneheart felt much better under the cover of the trees, though his memories of Sandstorm were somehow even more powerful here.

“I wish I could have talked to her,” Stoneheart mumbled, “about leaving ThunderClan, that is.” Back then, he’d known that Sandstorm would never have understood why he had felt so alienated by ThunderClan life – now, though... she might’ve gotten it.

“You’re bad at talking about your feelings,” Rowanclaw pointed out. “It’s never been your strong suit.”

Stoneheart flicked an ear. “Gee, thanks,” he chuckled dryly.

Rowanclaw’s whiskers twitched. “Put your chin up, Stoneheart,” he said. “I know it sucks... but don’t you think you still did a good thing today? Sandstorm would see it that way.”

Stoneheart lifted his head and looked at the cats ahead of him. Robinwing was pressing Onewhisker and Crowpaw for WindClan news, her eyes round and worried. Swiftfoot, Cloudtail, and Brightheart were woven together so tightly, the three seemed like one cat – Swiftfoot's purr was audible in the quiet forest. Tawnypelt was catching up with Falcontail, her eyes shining, and Root was walking beside her with a gentle tilt to his head.

“Perhaps,” Stoneheart sighed. He looked into Rowanclaw’s eyes, and he meowed, “Thank StarClan I found you... Oh, Rowanclaw, you don’t know what I’ve been through...”

Rowanclaw blinked back, his eyes shining. He moved, pressing his side against Stoneheart’s. “You’ll tell me,” He purred. “Just like I’m sure you’ll tell me why we’re heading through ThunderClan territory and not to ShadowClan – right?”

Stoneheart’s words caught in his throat. Awkwardly, he looked away. How would his mate handle the thought of ShadowClan’s camp being destroyed? He never got to say good-bye. “I...”

“I can wait,” Rowanclaw meowed. Stoneheart looked into his eyes, and saw a tinge of sorrow – had he already guessed what had happened? The dark ginger tom nodded ahead, and went on, “You should talk to Mistyfoot... I think she needs you.”

Stoneheart swallowed, following Rowanclaw’s gaze. Mistyfoot was trudging ahead, focusing just enough to keep herself from tripping over the roots that lay in her path. Her eyes were clouded and far away, and Stoneheart felt a stab of worry for his sister.

He nodded to Rowanclaw, then pushed his way up through the crowd until he was trotting beside Mistyfoot. He laid his tail over her flank, a gentle indication that he was here if she needed him.

She did: “What will I tell Tinystar?” Mistyfoot whispered. Her gaze flickered to Stoneheart. “And not just him, but... what will I tell Nightpaw and Shadepaw?”

Stoneheart grimaced. He knew just how easily his sister could spiral – her grief over losing her first apprentice, Shrewpaw, had greatly affected her judgment on the journey to the lake, and losing Stormfur had changed her, too. She looked up to Tinystar so fervently, too, and Stoneheart knew that this was only another blow to her heart.

“You think you could’ve done something different,” he guessed.

“There had to be something I could do!” Mistyfoot insisted, hissing. The fur along her spine bristled. “I could have jumped back into the monster after Brightheart got out, or...”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know,” Mistyfoot groaned. There was a burning light in her eye, somewhere inside the sorrow and self-doubt. “But there had to be something, right?”

Stoneheart’s mouth felt dry. “I was in there, too,” he reminded her. “And I was there for a while after you, too. Don’t you think it should’ve been me that did something more?”

“You were busy with Tawnypelt!”

“And you were busy with Brightheart,” Stoneheart countered. He tried not to sound harsh, but he still saw Mistyfoot flinch. “Mistyfoot, you can’t take it all onto yourself. It was a jumbled, messy situation – if you’re going to blame someone, blame me.”

Sunningrocks loomed up ahead, lit by the orange glow of evening. It was crowded with cats, their smells jumbled and confusing as Clan smells mingled together.

“I can’t do that!” Mistyfoot drew herself to a halt in the ferns. The rest of the group filed past, drifting onto the rocky shore to uproarious yowls and cheers. Mistyfoot, though, was glaring at Stoneheart. “You’re my brother! I can’t blame you!”

Stoneheart frowned. He felt a flash of frustration in his breast, and he spoke sternly: “Mistyfoot, if you’re going to get anywhere in life, you need to stop taking all the blame for yourself. I don’t know how many times everyone who loves you has to tell you that before you take it to heart! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault – it happened. Sometimes, bad things happen.”

Mistyfoot looked away, hurt in her blue eyes. Stoneheart wondered if he’d been too ShadowClan with her, but he didn’t know how else to reach beyond the anxieties that clouded his sister’s judgment.

“We saved the others,” Stoneheart meowed on. “Sandstorm knew the risks. She-”

There was a flash in Mistyfoot’s eye, and she glared at Stoneheart. “She’s ThunderClan’s deputy,” she snapped. “I know you’re not ThunderClan anymore, Stoneheart, but that means we’ll be leaving her behind.”

“I might not be ThunderClan,” Stoneheart threw back, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about her – she was my mentor, for StarClan’s sake!” He couldn’t help but bristle as he went on, “This journey is going to be hard enough as it is without adding a missing deputy on top of it but that’s what happened, Mistyfoot – no cat intended it to be that way! Our goal hasn’t changed!”

“I know!” Mistyfoot shot back. Her tail was lashing, now, swishing the ferns behind her. “But you’re not the one who has to tell Tinystar that he has to leave his mate behind!”

Stoneheart’s words caught in his throat, and suddenly he understood a deeper layer to Mistyfoot’s fears – because she had lost Stormfur, she knew what Tinystar was like to feel when she told him about Sandstorm. It felt selfish, but Stoneheart sent a silent prayer to StarClan that Rowanclaw was alive and well.

“I’m sorry,” he meowed, lowering his voice. “I’ll come with you, if you want.”

Mistyfoot faltered, her anger fading. “I’d like that,” she murmured.

He touched his nose to his sister’s forehead. Mistyfoot sighed, trembling. “ShadowClan made you a mean furball, Stoneheart,” she mumbled quietly.

Stoneheart purred, and licked her around the ear. “I think I was always that way,” he chuckled. “ShadowClan just tolerates it more.”

Side by side, they walked through the ferns and out into Sunningrocks. The stones were rattling with the joy of the crowded cats, each Clan clustering around their returned members. The air vibrated with purrs of joy, and Stoneheart spotted Mudclaw and Blackfoot passing out prey to celebrate.

Robinwing was clustered up with the other WindClan cats, talking excitedly about her experience. Not far off, Rowanclaw was surrounded by ShadowClan – Finchsong's kits burst from the nursery to tackle him, while Brick ambled up from the elder’s ditch to welcome him home. Whitepaw’s wail of joy was likely heard to the mountains, the small white she-cat drowning in her three parent’s pelts. Leopardstar greeted Tawnypelt with no small amount of joy in her eyes, and even dipped her head to Root, easily accepting the loner’s presence.

Stoneheart and Mistyfoot made their way to the rock where Tinystar made his den, passing through the cats – they all seemed too busy to really notice the siblings, nor the cat who was missing... all but Tinystar, who was sitting atop the rock overhanging his den, his pale blue eyes searching the crowd.

When he saw Mistyfoot, his tail stood up, and he slid off of the rock. “You did wonderfully!” he purred, touching his nose to Mistyfoot’s ear. “They’re all home!” To Mistyfoot’s credit, she didn’t flinch away, even though Stoneheart was sure she wanted to.

“It was hard,” he meowed, when Mistyfoot did not seem eager to speak. “But we did it.”

Tinystar’s eyes slid past the two and out into the crowd. “Where’s Sandstorm?”

The question was like a claw – it sliced through the joy in the air like a piece of prey, rippling silence out from Tinystar until every cat was taking up the question in worried whispers, staring at the three cats in the center of the crowd. Those who had come from Snakerocks had clearly kept their jaws shut, and now their eyes flashed away from their Clanmates, none of them eager to answer.

Tinystar’s ice-blue eyes stared into Stoneheart, then into Mistyfoot. “Where is Sandstorm?” he repeated, his voice tense. Nightpaw and Shadepaw came forward, eyes wide, not speaking but very clearly echoing the question as they locked eyes with their friends.

Mistyfoot stepped forward. “Tinystar...”

In the silence, Mistyfoot’s voice was all there was as she explained what had happened during the rescue mission. Stoneheart wondered if there was a soul in the forest who wasn’t listening in as Mistyfoot’s tale echoed off of Sunningrocks. Each cat listened, rapt and silent, the sparks of joy in their eyes giving way to sorrow as Mistyfoot reached the end.

“... there was nothing we could do,” Mistyfoot finished, her voice trembling. “She’s gone, Tinystar – I'm... I’m so sorry...”

Nightpaw’s eyes met Stoneheart’s. “Is that true?” he wondered, his voice barely a whisper.

Stoneheart nodded, his heart breaking for the young tom.

Nightpaw’s short legs trembled, and he fell back onto his haunches. Shadepaw stared down at her paws, her tail kinking tightly against her body. When Crowpaw stepped forward to offer a murmur of comfort, Shadepaw did not respond.

“Little ones, come here,” murmured Silverstream. The silver she-cat pushed through the crowd and nudged the apprentices to their paws. “Stay with us tonight, in the nursery.”

Stoneheart watched, heart splitting in two, as the queen led Nightpaw and Shadepaw through the crowd to the makeshift nursery. The surrounding cats parted around them, as if they were afraid just bumping one of them would set them wailing like kits.

“Tinystar?” Graystripe’s voice broke the quiet, and Stoneheart turned back to see the gray tom nudging his friend. “Tinystar, are you okay?”

Tinystar was staring off into the distance, the sharpness that had been ever-present in his ice-blue eyes gone. If Stoneheart didn’t know any better, the shimmers of starlight he saw in the ThunderClan leader’s eyes looked... dimmer, somehow.

“Tinystar, please,” Mistyfoot murmured, drawing forward. She reached out to her leader with a trembling paw. “I... I’m so sorry...”

Still, Tinystar was silent. Murmurs rose from the crowded cats, doubt and worry spreading like wildfire.

“What do we do now?” asked Sootfur, whose eyes were round. Beside him, Sorreltail, Sandstorm’s last apprentice, looked hopelessly lost.

Worried, Dustpelt asked no one in particular, “What does the warrior code say?”

“I don’t think there’s a rule about this sort of thing,” Cinderpelt answered her mate.

Russetstar stepped forward, her gaze even as she looked down at Tinystar. “Should we have a vigil?”

Tinystar’s eyes flashed, then, and he got to his paws, legs rigid. Stoneheart was shocked by the sudden movement – Graystripe and Mistyfoot were, too, and the two warriors drew back with wide eyes.

“Sandstorm is not dead!” Tinystar snarled, lashing his tail as he whirled around to face Russetstar.

Russetstar narrowed her eyes. “But, Tinystar-”

“She’s not!” Tinystar growled. He took a step towards Russetstar, his body stiff with rage. He thrust his muzzle into her face and went on, “I will not hold a vigil for a living warrior, and I will not appoint someone in her place – Sandstorm is not dead and she will resume her duties when she returns to us!”

“Tinystar...” Graystripe’s mouth hung open, the rest of his words failing to come out. Stoneheart didn’t need to hear them to guess what he might’ve said: We’re leaving the forest, Tinystar... she might never find us again.

Tinystar would hear no more – he pulled away from Russetstar and announced: “Cats of all Clans, prepare to leave the forest!” He swung his head over to Leopardstar and asked curtly, “Is RiverClan coming?”

Leopardstar looked taken aback by his tone, but she managed, “I will have your answer tomorrow.”

“Tonight, by moonhigh,” Tinystar countered. “No later – you might want to flounder, but the rest of us have lost our patience with you.”

Leopardstar bristled, but Tawnypelt answered instead: “By moonhigh, then.”

“Good,” Tinystar decided, nodding. He turned himself around and stalked into his den, his entire body still rigid in the shadows even after her curled his body up tight in his nest. Clearly, he was done with the celebration, and that left the ThunderClan cats reeling.

Mistyfoot looked to Graystripe. “What do we do?” she wondered.

Graystripe frowned, glancing into the darkness beneath Tinystar’s rock. “I-Mistyfoot, I think I need to be with him right now.”

“I know,” Mistyfoot sighed.

The gray tom turned and headed into the den. Stoneheart saw him curl around Tinystar’s body in the shadows, his huge frame all but engulfing ThunderClan’s grieving leader and shielding him from the outside world.

Leopardstar wasted no time, either, and left Sunningrocks, trotting through the river with Root, Falcontail, and Tawnypelt streaming behind her. They were gone in a moment, disappearing into the reeds at the opposite shore.

“You heard Tinystar,” Russetstar meowed, raising her voice. She looked annoyed, but she went on regardless, “Rest tonight, and enjoy one another’s company. Tomorrow, we prepare to leave the forest.”

A ripple of grim understanding passed through the crowd, and slowly the celebration reignited, though it was nowhere near as bombastic as it had been before the announcement of Sandstorm’s fate. The ThunderClan cats especially looked subdued, clustering into worried piles with more than one cat casting glances at the nursery or Tinystar’s den.

“Come on, you two,” rasped Oakheart. The tabby tom had limped through the crowd, taking care on the stones, and nudged both Mistyfoot and Stoneheart with his nose. Rowanclaw was lingering just a step behind, and he brushed his pelt against Stoneheart’s. “Let’s go get some sleep.”

Sullen, Mistyfoot agreed, wordlessly following Oakheart towards the elder’s ditch. Stoneheart followed, with Rowanclaw pressed close. Quiet, the four cats curled up around one another, huddled tight like the family they were.

Stoneheart rested his muzzle on Rowanclaw’s flank and breathed in his scent, sighing. Though Sandstorm had been lost, her fate unknown... he couldn’t help but be happy that he had finally, finally found Rowanclaw.

Though the forest was soon to be no more, that felt right.

———————————————————

Stoneheart’s fitful sleep was interrupted by a paw on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, finding that night had fully fallen and Sunningrocks was bathed in the light of the half-moon, which sat at the highest point in the sky.

He looked up, and saw Mistyfoot standing there. Carefully, Stoneheart extricated himself from Oakheart and Rowanclaw’s sleeping forms. He was about to ask what was happening, but Mistyfoot’s tail slapped in front of his muzzle, signaling silence.

Together the two of them picked their way around the cats sleeping all over the open stones of Sunningrocks. Most were huddled in what shelter they could find, but there just wasn’t enough room. Stoneheart carefully stepped over Webfoot and dodged Emberstep, but nearly stepped on Ashfur’s ear – what a mistake that would be!

Stoneheart’s ears pricked as they came to the shore, and he saw a familiar shape waiting there – Feathertail was lit by the moonlight, sitting neatly on RiverClan’s side of the river.

Feathertail lifted her tail to them. Her voice carried easily across the river, which was now hardly paw-deep: “The Twolegs have dammed the gorge, and they’re advancing from the greenleaf Twolegplace. RiverClan will leave the forest with the other Clans.”

“Thank StarClan,” breathed Mistyfoot.

Stoneheart’s heart was beating in his ears. Please, don’t let this be a dream!

Feathertail’s eyes brightened on her friends, and she smiled as she dipped her head. “Thank you,” she said. “For bringing Tawnypelt – and reason – back to RiverClan.”

The silver tabby she-cat got to her paws and slipped away, quick and silent as a fish. Stoneheart and Mistyfoot shared a glance, each looking just as hopeful as the other – all four Clans were going to the lake.

All the work, all the loss, hadn’t been for nothing.