FireClan-After the Ashes

Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Aftermath

            The moon shone down on the rocks as hundreds of starry cats sat in a clearing. A few lone cats sat on the top of a massive rock on one side, whispering in frightened tones. One golden tom was nestled against a blue she-cat, a look of worry on his regal face. “Crookedstar, what can we do? So many cats are entering StarClan right now. We can barely tell who is left. What if one of the Clans has been completely wiped out?”

            A new face approached the rock. The pretty golden spotted she-cat nestled beside Crookedstar. She mewed with exhaustion “RiverClan lives on.”

            “But how can you know that? Silverpelt is covered with thick smoke. We can’t see who has died and who has lived yet. And the RiverClan camp was the first to be engulfed in flames.”

Crookedstar could tell she knew something she wasn’t telling them.

            “I did not die by fire. I died trying to help Loudbelly cross the river. As we crossed a huge tree toppled on us, and my wound was so severe I couldn’t heal on my own. It was long and painful, but in my final lives I was pulled out of the water by Stormfur. Mistyfoot was there, too, with mewling kittens nearby. I heard them. Feathertail assessed me and they decided I had already lost too much blood and that I was gone. They were right; their voices were fading rapidly, but I did hear a whisper of the group taking the kits to Fourtrees, and since we are here now we know that it isn’t burned up. Therefore, some of RiverClan has survived.”

            Bluestar was suddenly agitated. She smelled a scent that she embraced in life but here-no, it can’t be. She could only utter one word. “Firestar.”

            Cinderpelt had no hope left. Her disheveled followers, Cloudtail and Brightheart, were solemn, which was understandable considering they had just watched their only daughter be killed by flames. Cinderpelt was worried for her sister and her sister’s mate, but she also wondered where her brothers might be. Surely, Thornclaw and Brackenfur made it out alive.

            They had no herbs. Originally they all had carried something, even Whitepaw, but while racing around trying to escape the fire the night before, they had lost everything. Now, they needed the herbs, since Cloudtail’s downy fur was scorched to the skin in a few spots. If Brightheart was in pain, she didn’t let on.

            They approached Fourtrees. “If anyone else made it out, they would make it to here in the next couple of days.” Cinderpelt mewed, trying to reassure her companions.

            Brightheart stepped forward. “I’ll go first in case anything is in there. I’m in better condition than either of you.” Cloudtail almost smiled at his mate’s strong spirit. Cinderpelt followed the warrior to the edge of the tree line, sniffing tentatively. ShadowClan! And WindClan…and RiverClan. But no ThunderClan? Are we….are we the only ones?

            The group walked into the clearing; sure there weren’t enough cats to hurt them. Cinderpelt saw Graystripe’s kits, Feathertail and Stormfur, first. They were with Mistyfoot and Dawnflower, who was trying to nurse kits. Worried, Cinderpelt began to look for other medicine cats when her view was blocked by tortoiseshell fur.

            “Cinderpelt!” Tawnypelt exclaimed. “Thank StarClan you’re here!” The she-cat was reassured by the presence of a medicine cat, but Cinderpelt needed some reassurance. Where was Mothwing or Mudfur or Barkface. Or Littlecloud. Littlecloud. The name of her friend echoed around her head almost painfully. He can’t be gone. He just can’t. She wanted to lie down in the grass and mourn, but she had to be strong. She had to be hopeful.