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Chapter Text

ThunderClan
Leader
Firestar—ginger tom with a flame-colored pelt
Deputy
Brambleclaw—dark ginger she-cat with green eyes
Medicine Cat
Jayfeather—gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes
Leafpool—light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes
Warriors
Graystripe—long-haired gray tom

Dustpelt—dark brown tabby tom

Sandstorm—pale ginger she-cat with green eyes

Brackenfur—golden brown tabby tom

Cloudtail—long-haired white tom with blue eyes

Brightheart—white she-cat with ginger patches

Millie—striped gray tabby she-cat with blue eyes

Thornclaw—golden brown tabby tom

Spiderleg—long-limbed black tom with amber eyes

Birchfall—light brown tabby tom

Whitewing—white she-cat with green eyes

Berrynose—cream-colored tom

Hazeltail—small gray-and-white she-cat

Mousewhisker—gray-and-white tom

Cinderheart—gray tabby she-cat

Lionblaze—golden tabby tom with amber eyes

Foxleap—reddish tabby tom

Icecloud—white she-cat

Toadstep—black-and-white tom

Rosepetal—dark cream she-cat

Hollyleaf—black she-cat with green eyes

Briarlight—dark brown she-cat

Blossomfall—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

Bumblestripe—very pale gray tom with black stripes

Dovewing—pale gray she-cat with blue eyes

Ivypool—silver-and-white tabby she-cat with dark blue eyes
Queens
Daisy—cream long-furred she-cat from the horseplace

Poppyfrost—tortoiseshell she-cat, mother to Cherrykit and Molekit
Elders
Purdy—plump tabby former loner with a gray muzzle
ShadowClan
Leader
Blackstar—large white tom with one jet-black forepaw
Deputy
Rowanclaw—ginger tom
Medicine Cat
Littlecloud—very small tabby tom
Warriors
Oakfur—small brown tom

Smokefoot—black tom

Toadfoot—dark brown tom

Applefur—mottled brown she-cat

Crowfrost—black-and-white tom

Ratscar—brown tom with long scar across his back

Snowbird—pure-white she-cat

Tawnypelt—tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

Olivenose—tortoiseshell she-cat

Owlclaw—light brown tabby tom

Shrewfoot—gray she-cat with black feet

Scorchfur—dark gray tom

Tigerheart—dark brown tabby tom

Dawnpelt—cream-furred she-cat

Pinenose—black she-cat

Ferretclaw—cream-and-gray tom

Starlingwing—ginger tom
Queens
Kinkfur—tabby she-cat with long, spiky fur

Ivytail—black, white, and tortoiseshell she-cat
Elders
Cedarheart—dark gray tom

Tallpoppy—long-legged light brown tabby she-cat

Snaketail—dark brown tom with tabby-striped tail

Whitewater—white she-cat with long fur, blind in one eye
WindClan
Leader
Onestar—brown tabby tom
Deputy
Harespring—brown-and-white tom
Medicine Cat
Kestrelflight—mottled gray tom
Warriors
Crowfeather—dark gray tom

Owlwhisker—light brown tabby tom

Whitetail—small white she-cat

Nightcloud—black she-cat

Gorsetail—very pale gray-and-white tom with blue eyes

Weaselfur—ginger tom with white paws

Leaftail—dark tabby tom

Emberfoot—gray tom with two dark paws

Heathertail—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

Breezepelt—black tom with amber eyes

Sedgewhisker—light brown tabby she-cat

Swallowtail—dark gray she-cat

Sunstrike—tortoiseshell she-cat with large white mark on her forehead
Apprentices
Whiskerpaw—light brown tom

Furzepaw—gray-and-white she-cat

Boulderpaw—large pale gray tom
Elders
Webfoot—dark gray tabby tom

Tornear—tabby tom
RiverClan
Leader
Mistystar—gray she-cat with blue eyes
Deputy
Reedwhisker—black tom
Medicine Cat
Mothwing—dappled golden she-cat

Apprentice, Willowshine—gray tabby she-cat
Warriors
Graymist—pale gray tabby she-cat

Mintfur—light gray tabby tom

Icewing—white she-cat with blue eyes

Minnowtail—dark gray she-cat

Pebblefoot—mottled gray tom

Mallownose—light brown tabby tom

Robinwing—tortoiseshell-and-white tom

Beetlewhisker—brown-and-white tabby tom

Petalfur—gray-and-white she-cat
Queens
Duskfur—brown tabby she-cat

Mosspelt—tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes
Elders
Dapplenose—mottled gray she-cat

Pouncetail—ginger-and-white tom

Chapter Text

A gray tom was looking at a pool, it showed a stony hollow with a orange tom's body lying in the hollow. He had deliberately stayed behind when the battle was taking place.

In secret, he had worked for moons under StarClan's order to weaken the relationship between the living Clans and the Place of No Stars, but he had discovered something so singular that he couldn't ignore, every time he blocked the communication portal in the Dark Forest, the more unstable the barrier between he and StarClan became. Until the barrier and the portal snapped at the same time.

Then, everytime he went to check the defenses he had set up to prevent the Dark Forest cats from establishing another connection, some sort of the Dark Forest fungi had grown from the portal. And that was the flaw in their attack, they were weaker because of him. But what had he got for his hard work? Nothing. Not even any thanks from the other cats.

And looking at the shallow pool, he knew the time for his vengence has come. Taking a last looking at the territories of Starclan, he took a deep breath and jumped in, just as stars were beginning to appear in the distance.

The StarClan cats trotted back into their own territorries, some cats leading the recently deceased to teach them the ways of StarClan. Bluestar walked together with Yellowfang on the path to the communication pool.

"By the way Yellowfang," she meowed with a twinkle in her eyes, "You never told me who was the brave warrior you sent to dismantle the Dark Forest's portal."

Yellowfang looked sideways at her old leader. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Bluestar stopped, the light dying from her eyes. "Why, what's the matter?"

Yellowfang gazed into the distance and sighed, "I'm afraid we're too late."

The portal pool had vanished completely.

Bluestar ran to it in shock, "What has happened?"

"I sent Ashfur to the Dark Forest to close the portal, it seemed that he used it to his own purposes." Yellowfang bowed her head.

Bluestar snapped out of her shock, she bounded to the nearest ridge. "Search for Ashfur immediately!" she yowled down to the startled cats down below.

"Why? Is there a problem?" It was Hollyleaf, half-transparent in the landscape, she had nearly died when saving Ivypool from Hawkfrost, and Jayfeather beside her was guiding her back to the living world. "If he causes more trouble I-"

"Calm down Hollyleaf." meowed Jayfeather. "Sounds like we'll be the last Clan cats to set paw in these grounds for a while. Let's listen up."

Chapter Text

Hollyleaf's world was a haze of shimmering light and fading shadows. She floated in the ethereal expanse of StarClan's territories, her black pelt translucent, like mist clinging to the forest floor at dawn. The ground beneath her paws felt insubstantial, a starry meadow that rippled with every step. Beside her, Jayfeather padded steadily, his gray tabby fur solid and real in this dreamlike realm. His blind blue eyes stared ahead, unseeing yet perceiving more than most. He was her anchor, guiding her spirit back to the living world after Hawkfrost's deadly strike had nearly claimed her life.

The air was alive with the soft glow of ancestors. StarClan cats moved about like whispers on the wind—some greeting the newly fallen warriors from the Great Battle, others sharing tales of the victory over the Dark Forest. Hollyleaf caught glimpses of familiar faces: Fireheart's old friends, long-lost kin. But an undercurrent of unease prickled her fur. The stars above seemed to flicker uncertainly, as if the very fabric of this place was unraveling.

Her thoughts drifted to a vision she'd seen moments before—a gray tom hunched over a shallow pool, his dark blue eyes fixed on the image reflected within. The pool showed ThunderClan's stony hollow, scarred by battle, with an orange tom's body sprawled lifeless amid the ashes. Firestar. The gray tom had lingered there deliberately, apart from the chaos of the fight. Hollyleaf didn't recognize him at first, but a chill of familiarity crept in. Ashfur.

In secret, he had toiled for moons under StarClan's command, sabotaging the fragile ties between the living Clans and the Place of No Stars. His task: to weaken the Dark Forest's grip, blocking their communication portals one by one. But in his meddling, he'd uncovered a singularity—a flaw in the realms themselves. Each time he sealed a portal, the barrier between the Dark Forest and StarClan grew more unstable, threads of starlight fraying like old cobwebs. Until, in a cataclysmic snap, both the portal and the barrier shattered simultaneously.

Ashfur had returned time and again to inspect his defenses, only to find insidious fungi sprouting from the ruined portals—tendrils of darkness that sapped the invaders' strength. It was his doing that had made the Dark Forest warriors falter in the battle, their forms flickering and weak. Yet, for all his efforts, what reward had he received? Nothing. No gratitude from the starry hunters, no acknowledgment from the cats he'd once called Clanmates. Only exile and bitterness.

Now, gazing into that fateful pool, Ashfur knew his moment of vengeance had arrived. With a final, lingering glance at StarClan's glittering territories, he drew a deep breath and leaped in, vanishing into the swirling depths just as distant stars began to wink into view.

Hollyleaf shook her head, trying to dispel the vision. It felt like a dream within a dream, but the dread it left was real. She and Jayfeather pressed on, following a winding path lined with luminous ferns. Ahead, Bluestar and Yellowfang walked together, their pelts brushing as they approached the communication pool—the sacred link between realms.

"By the way, Yellowfang," Bluestar meowed, a twinkle in her blue eyes, "you never told me who was the brave warrior you sent to dismantle the Dark Forest's portal."

Yellowfang glanced sideways at her old leader, her expression guarded. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Bluestar halted, the light fading from her gaze. "Why? What's the matter?"

Yellowfang stared into the misty distance and sighed heavily. "I'm afraid we're too late."

The portal pool had vanished completely, leaving only a barren patch of starry earth where it once shimmered.

Bluestar bounded forward in shock, her tail lashing. "What has happened?"

"I sent Ashfur to the Dark Forest to close the portal," Yellowfang admitted, bowing her grizzled head. "It seems he used it to his own purposes."

Bluestar snapped out of her stupor, leaping to the nearest ridge. Her yowl echoed across the territories: "Search for Ashfur immediately!" Below, startled StarClan cats looked up, their eyes wide with confusion.

Hollyleaf's heart raced. Ashfur—again. The name ignited a fire in her belly, memories of his madness flooding back: the fire he'd set to kill her and her littermates, his obsessive love for Squirrelflight that had twisted into hate. "Why? Is there a problem?" she called out, her voice carrying a sharp edge despite her half-faded form. "If he causes more trouble, I—"

"Calm down, Hollyleaf," Jayfeather meowed, his tone firm but soothing. He pressed against her side, steadying her. "Sounds like we'll be the last Clan cats to set paw in these grounds for a while. Let's listen up."

Hollyleaf bit back a retort, her green eyes narrowing. She hated feeling powerless, especially here, on the threshold between life and death. But Jayfeather was right; they needed answers. As Bluestar and Yellowfang conferred in hushed tones, fragments of their conversation drifted down—words like "possession," "barriers broken," and "vengeance unchecked." StarClan cats scattered, their forms blurring into the mist as they began the search.

The landscape around Hollyleaf and Jayfeather began to warp, the starry paths dissolving into swirling fog. A pull tugged at her spirit, drawing her downward, back to the corporeal world. But before the realms parted fully, another vision flashed: the gray tom emerging from the pool's depths, merging with the orange body in the hollow. Firestar's eyes opened—not with warmth, but with a cold, vengeful gleam.
Then, everything went black.

Hollyleaf gasped as consciousness slammed into her like a wave. She lay on the blood-streaked earth of ThunderClan's camp, the stony hollow a battlefield of churned mud and fallen branches. The acrid scent of smoke hung heavy, mingled with the coppery tang of wounds and the earthy musk of exhausted cats. Her chest throbbed where Hawkfrost's claws had raked her, but the pain was dulling, life flooding back into her limbs.

"Hollyleaf!" A silver-and-white blur rushed toward her—Ivypool, her eyes wide with relief and fear. The she-cat's tabby pelt was streaked with dirt and blood, her dark blue eyes scanning Hollyleaf for injuries. "You're alive! I thought... when Hawkfrost struck you, saving me... I thought I'd lost you for good."

Hollyleaf pushed herself up, wincing but managing a weak nod. "I'm here. Thanks to Jayfeather." She glanced at her brother, who was shaking his head as if to clear the remnants of StarClan's fog.

Ivypool helped steady her, her voice trembling. "The battle's over, but... everything feels wrong. The Dark Forest is gone, but I keep expecting them to come back. And Firestar—he's up, but..."

Before Hollyleaf could respond, Lionblaze bounded over, his golden tabby fur matted but unscathed, his amber eyes blazing with concern. "Hollyleaf! Jayfeather said you were on the edge, but you're back." He nudged her affectionately, then turned to Ivypool. "You too— that was brave, facing Hawkfrost like that."

Dovewing followed close behind, her pale gray fur fluffed, ears swiveling as if catching every rustle in the forest. "I heard your heartbeat falter," she murmured to Hollyleaf, her blue eyes distant. "But now... there's something else. Whispers I can't place."

The group huddled together amid the chaos—warriors tending wounds, queens checking on kits, elders murmuring prayers to StarClan. Hollyleaf scanned the camp, her gaze landing on Firestar. The ginger leader stood tall, shaking ash from his flame-colored pelt, surrounded by cheering Clanmates. Sandstorm pressed against him, purring, while Brambleclaw organized patrols. But as Firestar's green eyes swept the hollow, they locked onto Hollyleaf's. A shiver ran down her spine. Those eyes—usually so full of wisdom and fire—now held a calculating chill, a shadow that didn't belong.

"We need to talk," Hollyleaf whispered urgently, glancing at her siblings and Ivypool. "Privately."

They slipped to the edge of the camp, behind a cluster of brambles where the noise dulled. Jayfeather's tail twitched impatiently. "In StarClan, we heard... Ashfur's missing. Yellowfang sent him to sabotage the Dark Forest portals, but he twisted it. The barriers between realms snapped, and the communication pool vanished."

Lionblaze's claws unsheathed instinctively. "Ashfur? That fox-heart? What does he want now?"

Hollyleaf leaned in, her voice low. "Vengeance. I saw a vision—he jumped through the broken portal, right into our world. And Firestar... he was dead from inhaling smoke. "

Ivypool's eyes widened in horror. "Possession? Like how the Dark Forest tried to influence the trainees? But Ashfur... he hates Squirrelflight, hates all of us connected to her. If he's in Firestar..."

Dovewing nodded, her ears flattening. "That explains the whispers. With the barriers broken, I find it easier to access the afterlives"

Lionblaze growled softly. "If Ashfur's playing games, I'll tear him out myself."

"But we can't act rashly," Jayfeather cautioned. "StarClan's cut off—no guidance. We have to watch, gather proof. The Clan thinks Firestar's a hero returned from the brink."

Hollyleaf met Ivypool's gaze, gratitude and resolve mixing in her chest. "You were in the Dark Forest, Ivypool. You know their tricks better than anyone. We need you with us on this."

Ivypool straightened, determination hardening her features. "I'm in. After everything, I won't let another shadow destroy us."

The Clan was grieving. Hollyleaf saw it in the hunched shoulders of the elders, in the stifled sobs from the nursery, and in the heavy, silent vigil forming around the still, orange-furred body lying in the center of the hollow. Sandstorm was pressed against her mate’s side, her face buried in his fur, her whole body trembling with silent, devastating tears. Brambleclaw stood like a rock beside them, but his amber eyes were glazed with shock. Graystripe had simply collapsed, his great head bowed, his breath coming in ragged hitches.

Then, a twitch.

It was so slight, Hollyleaf thought she’d imagined it—a trick of the flickering firelight from the nearby torches. But Sandstorm froze, her weeping ceasing abruptly. She lifted her head, her green eyes wide and disbelieving.

Another twitch. A shallow, shuddering breath that lifted Firestar’s flank.

A gasp rippled through the cats on the vigil’s edge. “He’s breathing!” someone yelped.

Chaos erupted, but it was a chaos of desperate, hopeful joy. Cats surged forward, only to be held back by Brambleclaw’s commanding yowl. “Give him space! Jayfeather!”

Jayfeather was already pushing through, though his movement was strained. Ashfur was clever, he knew if the medicine cat tried to kill the leader, the other cats would not believe anything they say. He pressed his ear to Firestar’s chest, then leaned close to his muzzle.

“He… he’s breathing,” Jayfeather announced, his voice strained. “The smoke must have only stunned him. His lungs are clearing.” The words sounded clinical, forced, but the Clan didn’t care about the tone—only the meaning.

A roar of relief shook the hollow. Sandstorm nuzzled her mate fiercely, purring so loudly it vibrated through the circle. “Firestar! Oh, StarClan, thank you!”

Firestar’s eyes fluttered open.

The cheer that went up was deafening. Warriors yowled his name. Kits bounced with excitement, not fully understanding but caught in the euphoria. Elders wept with gratitude. It was a miracle. A true, StarClan-sent miracle after the horror of the battle.

He turned to Brambleclaw. “Report,” he croaked. “The battle. The losses.” The questions were logical, leader-like. But they came too fast, too sharp. There was no moment for Brambleclaw to express his own relief, no shared look of survivor’s understanding. It was a demand.

Brambleclaw, overwhelmed by the miracle, didn’t seem to notice. He launched into a summary, his voice thick with emotion. “We held them off, Firestar. Thanks to you. The Dark Forest is gone. We… we thought we lost you.” he finished.

“It takes more than smoke to finish me off,” the cat who looked like Firestar said, and a few warriors laughed, a nervous, joyous sound. The phrase was something Firestar might say, but the delivery was off—a rehearsed line, not a heartfelt quip. He began to move through the crowd, accepting touches and murmured thanks.

But Hollyleaf saw what others, in their blissful ignorance, did not. She saw how he stiffened slightly when Squirrelflight approached, her eyes brimming with tears. He gave her a brief, stiff nod—a far cry from the father who had once risked everything for her. She saw how his eyes lingered on the three of them—herself, Lionblaze, and Jayfeather—and on Ivypool and Dovewing. A hunter noting his prey.

Suddenly a familiar voice sounded behind her "I guess I'm not alone." Hollyleaf whirled around to see a pale orange shape behind her, the real Firestar. "You and I are not so different right now, Hollyleaf." he meowed "The spirits stuck outside of StarClan, but you chose to stay."

Hollyleaf was speechless with shock. "Firestar? Can any other cats see you?"

"No. You're the only one. not even Jayfeather."

Chapter Text

The air in the medicine den was a solid, suffocating thing. It wasn't just the cloying scent of sickness or the sharp, metallic tang of Foxleap's infected wound. It was the heat—the oppressive, damp heat of fever that rose from Toadstep and Hazeltail in waves, mingling with the cold dread that had settled in Jayfeather's own bones the moment he'd seen Firestar's eyes open with a dead tom's gaze.

He worked in a grim, silent rhythm. Sorreltail, closest to the entrance, was the simplest map. A deep, clean gash across her shoulder from Brokenstar's final, desperate swipe. Shock and blood loss was the enemy here. He had packed the wound with cobwebs and goldenrod, and now a poultice of marigold and crushed ragweed leaves was tied snug against it with cobwebs. Her breathing was steadying, but she trembled, lost in the aftershock of battle and pain.

"Don't you start," Jayfeather grunted, sensing her shivers as he passed. "The wound is closed. The shaking is just your body complaining. Ignore it." He didn't offer comfort; he issued a fact. Survival was a choice of will as much as medicine.

He moved to Foxleap. This was worse. The infection was a low, pulsing fire beneath the skin. Jayfeather leaned in, his whiskers brushing the inflamed flesh. He didn't need sight to see the poison spreading. With a swift, ruthless motion, he used his teeth to pull away the old, sodden poultice. Foxleap yowled.

"Quiet," Jayfeather muttered, his voice flat. "It has to be cleaned again. Hold him, Briarlight." As the younger she-cat steadied the thrashing warrior, Jayfeather began to lick the wound fiercely, scraping away pus and decay with a roughness that was its own kind of mercy. Better a moment of sharp pain than the slow burn of death. He reached for the last of the precious marigold paste.

Then his ears twitched, swiveling toward the other side of the den. That was where the real war was being lost.

Briarlight had settled beside Toadstep, her entire world narrowed to the space between his rasping breaths. The greencough was a fire in his chest, and each gasp was a shallow, desperate fight. While Jayfeather's methods were brisk, hers were a quiet, relentless campaign of comfort. She gently lapped at his burning ears and muzzle with cool moss, whispering steady, calm words against his fevered pelt. When Jayfeather nudged the tansy-soaked moss-ball forward, Briarlight was already there, supporting Toadstep's head with a tenderness that spoke of more than duty. "Just a little, for me," she murmured, her nose pressed to his temple. He turned away once, a weak cough shaking him, but at her soft, persistent urging, he finally took a few feeble laps, his eyes briefly focusing on her face before fluttering shut again. Her care was a silent, steadfast bulwark against the sickness, a personal fight where every shallow breath he took was a victory she willed into being.

"Drink it," Jayfeather ordered, his tone leaving no room for refusal. He placed a paw firmly on Toadstep's shoulder, not to comfort, but to pin him with purpose. "You can't fight the fever if you dry out like old bark. Now, drink." There was a struggle, a pathetic, feeble twist, then compliance. A few laps. It was something.

Next to him, Hazeltail was a chilling contrast. She shivered violently, her body wracked with chills even as her fur felt clammy. Her sickness was in her chest, but it was a wet, drowning kind. Jayfeather listened, and the sound was a deep, troubling rattle. She needed thyme and catmint, herbs to break the congestion and soothe the ravaged tissue. He had neither.

His stock was a ghost of itself. The Great Battle had devoured his supplies. The last catmint leaf had been used on Sandstorm's smoke-ravaged lungs. The last of the tansy was steeping for Hazeltail now. The marigold was gone after Foxleap. He was fighting a forest fire with dew.

And then there was Dovewing.

She worked beside Briarlight, a silent, efficient shadow. But her silence was a screaming, palpable force in the den. Jayfeather, whose senses mapped the world in layers of emotion and intent, could feel the frantic energy coiled tight within her. Every muscle was a taut wire. Her ears, perpetually swiveling, didn't just listen to the camp clearing; they seemed to strain against the very air, tracking things far beyond the stone hollow. She was hearing the rasp of every sick breath, the frantic heartbeat of every wounded cat, the uneasy murmur of a Clan celebrating a leader who was a lie. She was holding it all in, a dam of terrible knowledge threatening to burst. Her power wasn't gone; it was a burden she now carried alone, and it was crushing her.

He wanted to snap at her, to tell her to either use that hearing for something useful or stop broadcasting her panic. But he held his tongue. Her terror was a diagnostic tool all its own. If Dovewing was this tightly wound, the wrongness she sensed was profound.

The den entrance rustled.

A scent washed in, cutting through the miasma of sickness. Firestar.

Jayfeather didn't look up. He continued to press the soaked moss to Toadstep's mouth, his movements deliberately unchanged.

"A heavy burden for one medicine cat," the voice said. It was Firestar's voice, but the rhythm was off. The words were placed with careful, observational precision, devoid of the genuine warmth or weary concern that should have underpinned them.

"It's the burden I'm trained for," Jayfeather replied, his voice gravelly. He finally turned his sightless blue eyes toward the scent, not as a sign of respect, but as a hunter pinpointing a threat. "It's heavier when the herb stores are empty. Less observation, more catmint would be a better help."

A pause. He could feel the impostor's gaze sweeping the den, not with a leader's compassion for his wounded, but with a strategist's cold assessment of weaknesses and resources.

"Of course. How do they fare?" The cat took a single step inside. The space seemed to shrink, the air growing colder.

Jayfeather delivered his report like he was listing prey on the fresh-kill pile. "Sorreltail: claw wound, stable. Foxleap: infected bite, fighting it. Toadstep: greencough, high fever. Hazeltail: chest infection, severe congestion." He let the clinical facts hang in the air. "They will live or die based on the herbs I can find and the strength they have left. Not on words."

"Sickness," the impostor mused, and the word dripped with a subtle, venomous disdain. "A quieter enemy than claws. It tests the fundamental strength of a Clan. Reveals the weak links."

A cold, hard knot of fury tightened in Jayfeather's chest. Ashfur was studying the Clan's vulnerabilities, looking for cracks to widen. He was already classifying the sick and wounded as liabilities.

Jayfeather took a single step forward, placing himself between the impostor and Hazeltail's shivering form. His lip curled, not in a snarl of fear, but in a flat, unmistakable defiance.

"It's a lung infection and a fever," Jayfeather stated, his voice low and blunt as a stone. "It tests my knowledge of herbs and my ability to find them. It doesn't test character. Is there a practical order from my leader, or are you just taking up space better used for sick cats?"

The silence that followed was absolute and dangerous. Briarlight had frozen. Even Foxleap's whimpering ceased. Jayfeather could feel Dovewing's silent scream of terror reach a new peak.

Then, from the cat wearing Firestar's face, came a soft, chilling sound. A chuckle of genuine, icy amusement.

"Such defiance. The strain is revealing, Jayfeather. Do not forget your place. Do not fail in your duties." The voice dropped, smooth and threatening as a snake's coil. "The Clan is watching. I am watching."

The pawsteps retreated. The oppressive, wrong presence lifted, leaving the den feeling suddenly, hollowly empty, filled only with the sounds of suffering it had contained all along.

The weight that settled on Jayfeather then was not the crush of despair. It was the cold, dense, unyielding weight of granite resolve. StarClan's silence? He'd never trusted their vague omens anyway. A murderer in the leader's nest? A new, deadly symptom to be diagnosed and treated. His world had always been built on what he could touch, smell, and fix.

He turned his back on the empty entrance.

"Briarlight," he said, his voice returning to its usual, grating command. "The poultice on Foxleap needs changing again at moonhigh. Use the last of the crushed marigold root."

He then stalked over to where Dovewing stood rigid by the moss pile. He stopped directly in front of her, his blind gaze seeming to pierce through her.

"The Twoleg garden past the old thunderpath. Is there catmint there? Is it in flower, or is it just stalks? Don't tell me what you feel about it. Tell me if it's usable."

He wasn't asking for her comfort, her fear, or her omen. He was issuing a demand for a tactical report. He was forcing her power to be a tool, not a trap. In the face of the impossible, Jayfeather focused on the next, concrete, achievable task. Find the herb. Break the fever. Clean the wound.

The sickness, the impostor, the broken sky—they were all just obstacles. And Jayfeather had made a lifetime of shoving obstacles out of his way.