Warrior Cats: Fallen Leaves

4 Remembrance Day

Last Updated: 9 July 2017

"Wheatkit? Are you awake in the nursery? I have something important to tell you," Mother roused him softly, there was a patter of paws, and soon he felt a rough tongue lapping his head fur. Her voice was low, strange. "Wheatkit?"
The nursery? Memories of exploring camp, mean cats, Father asleep, and a confusing argument until he napped flashed in his mind. Perhaps the snackbird had told Mother to carry him back inside. His Blue-Sky eyes, still droopy, shut and the World went dark for a heartbeat before he could focus on brightly lit Mother. He still couldn't get used to this 'blinking'. "Have you found those blurry cats yet?"
"No, but it's about Foxmuzzle."
"What about Father? Is he going to soft-growl to me now?" His whiskers tingled as he hobbled upright, "I want to show him the snackbird!"
Mother curled her tail around his shoulders. "I think you mean blackbird, my dear kit. But Foxmuzzle won't be able to see it."
"Why's that? Is he going to fight the HillClan invasion?"
"What? Ah, you mean what Birchflower said earlier," Mother wrapped her muzzle around his neck, voice cracking like reeds. Her smooth fur brushed his, heartbeat thumped, thumped inside his ear, "Oh, he's dead, Wheatkit. I don't want to believe Foxmuzzle's dead!"
Dead? What was Dead? "Is it like Blue Sky or Outside? Or like StarClan with their Star Cats?"
"No! It's an forever sleep which he will never wake up from, you silly kit!" she exploded a whisker-length away, moss-coloured eyes slitted like grass blades. His ears rang. Startled, Wheatkit sprang away from her, trembling on tiptoe. Paws burning, he buried himself in moss, scrambling away from Mother's scary scary anger, until he scented safe safe Birchflower behind him. He hid in the darkest corner of her belly. He had only asked!
"Mousefern..." Birchflower rumbled, having heard the whole conversation, "Would you like some time alone? The kits are still playing outside."
Mother didn't seem to hear. "Wheatkit, I'm sorry. But Foxmuzzle's gone forever. It's my fault, I should have gone with Icetalon!" She looked very sad and Wheatkit's paws were still burning.
"Mother, are you sure-"
"It's my fault!" Her fierce gaze focused on Wheatkit. It was like Pebblekit studying him again. Certain and unflinching. His fur shivered despite the stuffy air. "Ever since Ivyleaf's kit died over a moon ago, I knew that fox-hearted nightcough would find CreekClan!"
"Do you mean the MarshClan deputy's son?" Birchflower asked, barky scent fluctuating wildly. Her voice was cracked too. In response, Mother flicked moss with her tail-tip, gaze down. It barely rolled kittensteps.
"Yes. I mean him. What was his name again? Rockkit? Greykit?
"Stonekit."
"Yes, that was it. But who will be next, I wonder?" Mother dragged her paws forward, Biting Light making her silver fur glow from the entrance behind her. Wheatkit flinched away. Mother wasn't still angry, was she? "Not my Wheatkit, I hope."
"No cat knows. It could be any one of us." Wheatkit's belly twisted like a branch at Birchflower's words, "And no medicine cat has found a suitable cure, or at least a prevention for it yet."
"Unless a mean, stupid idiot does know a cure for it, and wants the whole lake to suffer first!" spat Russetdawn, slipping inside the nursery. As She blocked the Biting Light, Wheatkit's face cooled and could see Her back arched in the dark shadow. "Foxmuzzle was a worthy deputy! How can we lose him now, half a season before leaf-bare?"
The three cats nodded in agreement. Understanding little, Wheatkit could only knead his paws on rough moss, uncertain. Would he Dead next? Or Mother? A chill ran through his body. How am I supposed to Dead from a thing I can't see?
"Hawkstar has almost finished sorting tomorrow's patrols." Biting Light made Wheatkit squint as Russetdawn left. "Expect a meeting soon."
"Meeting? I want to go!" Wheatkit squeaked, his heart suddenly bright and light like the Blue Sky. He didn't notice Mother and Birchflower giving each other a knowing glance. As if on cue, a deep yowl came from the other side of camp:
"Let all cats old enough to swim gather here underneath the Fallen Oak for a Clan meeting! We have a very important matter to discuss!"
Wheatkit's fur fluffed up with delight. He pushed the confusing image of Dead Father to the back of his mind, and sprang out of the nursery. Moss clung to his fur, only to be trampled along with leaves by his furious paws.
My first Clan meeting! On my first day Outside too!
The Biting Moss was rolling low in the sky now, and the shadows in the camp became longer and much more safe to hide in, like Birchflower's belly had been. Even the burn in his paws drove him to them. Somehow his Blue Sky eyes adapt to the weird, dark colours of black, orange and similar shades of late mossset. And how far he could see! Wheatkit could tell even when he was dazed from dashing so fast. Then a curly stick blocked him, so he tried to stop. But Wheatkit only tripped over the stick, tumbling into cold wet ground. Yellow-rimmed leaves flew towards an orange sky. Squeaking, he shook marsh from his fur, to see a huge Russetdawn staring down, whiskers twitching. "Sorry, little Wheatie. No kits allowed at Clan meetings!"
"It's my first-"
"Nursery. Now. Goodbye." Russetdawn crackled leaves underneath her paws, padded off towards the gathering cats. He sighed. Why is She so mean to me?
Trudging back to the nursery's reed entrance, he sat down, testing how his paws unsheathed near a shrub. Strange creatures hooted and called outside camp but they didn't care about him. Not after the snackbird. Then he sensed Mother above him, "Ignore Russetdawn, Wheatkit. Come, you can sit with me by the other cats."
His mood lifted instantly. Wheatkit trotted after Mother as all kinds of different cats shuffled to find the best spots, mewling greetings to each other, Mother and him. Wheatkit felt his belly twist as huge warriors peered at him curiously. Others were gazing up at Hawkstar; a long-furred brown stripy version of Stormkit, in front of the Biting Moss, so his shadow cast over CreekClan. Wheatkit was in awe for a moment but he thought Mother looked better.
The shuffling cats included were stripeys, patchies, large cats, small cats, thick cats, thin cats and many more inbetween. How could one Clan be so diverse? His denmates were sitting happily in the middle of the towering cats, unnerved as if they were warriors themselves. He was glad he had come to the meeting: if those kits could go, he could too! Russetdawn couldn't control him forever! However, his belly churned when he looked at them, so he sat with Mother on the outskirts.
"CreekClan, I hearby announce a tragic event," Hawkstar's bellow rumbled inside Wheatkit, "As most of you know, Foxmuzzle passed away from nightcough. His body was found by Icetalon next to a small pool of water by the lakeside. Our hardworking deputy seemed so determined to provide for CreekClan, he pushed himself the ultimate edge. So far in fact, he gave into his needs, and as a result, died."
Low murmurs arose from the Clan like a trickle of water. Mother curled her tail around Wheatkit as Hawkstar continued, "But his spirit watches from StarClan as we speak and listen. Therefore, as respect for one of the hardest working cats this Clan has ever seen, my senior warriors and I have discussed a new tradition for all the generations of CreekClan that may precede us. From now on in every leaf-fall, the night before the second Gathering, we shall spend a few silent moments remembering all of the brave cats who died for us, young or old. It has been named 'Remembrance Day'. Does CreekClan agree with this proposal?"
The cats mewed a sad, "Yes" and Wheatkit noticed unmoving specks of white moss in the purple sky. The Biting Moss had gone. His ears pricked, heart bubbling like when he had seen the snackbird. He felt dizzy for a moment.
"Good. Otherwise, I would've fed you to those fierce kittypets down at the Twolegplace," Hawkstar added as the Clan gasped in shock, "Hahaha, just kidding. Now we may begin."
The Clan let out a small chuckle, reassured by Hawkstar's strange humour. And so the cats sat as still as trees. Wheatkit was alarmed as the clearing was plunged into an eerie silence. The night creatures made not a sound (except chirping and trickling water which seemed to be everywhere), even the wind seemed to drop a little. Was this supposed to happen?
He pressed against silent Mother, against her warm fur and constant breath that made small puffs of white. It faded into the chilly air. Wet marsh still made his rump cold. As more white specks glistened above Wheatkit, he raised his maw, studying them, in strange awe. His paws tugged.
Father? Are you up there now? With StarClan, dead prey and Star Cats?
He suddenly felt very cold, but sensed a large object to his right. He turned to see a star-pawed, semi-transparent shape of a tom cat. His sparkling fur was red-orange like leaves and his yellow eyes brimmed with an uncertain calm. He scented of air and water. Father.
"Wheatkit," he greeted.
"A-Are you a Star Cat now?" Wheatkit mewled in a whisper, scared what would happen if he spoke too loud. His pelt burned with tree-lengths of questions he wanted to ask this cat he assumed was from StarClan.
The tom blinked once. "Yes. I hate to, but let's skip the greetings; you must know something important."
"Tell me!" No cat had ever trusted Wheatkit with an important thing before. And it was only for him!
"Whatever you may find when you're older, just remember."
"Remember what? Rememberance Day?" Wheatkit squeaked. Father brushed his whiskers with his tail, like Mother had.
"Whatever happens, the path you tread is your own."

~

Birds chirped his eyes awake. Wheatkit felt the humid but cosy atmosphere of the dark nursery. A round Silver Moss shone in the lower gaps of the reed den. Mother was curled up beside him, with her head directly in his line of sight. With Foxmuzzle's sharp, airy scent still scentable, Mother's muskier scent was almost too much. She stirred, and yawned slightly, her eyes red. She shook her head and noticed that Wheatkit was awake.
"Wheatkit?" she soft-growled, "What are you doing up so early?"
"I- Huh? Where's Father?" Wheatkit whispered, rising up. "He was just here!" Mother stared at him.
"Foxmuzzle? Your father's dead, Wheatkit, and his body was buried yesterday."
"But I was outside!" he mewed frantically, "With Foxmuzzle right next to me when Hawkstar told us to be silent!"
Mother blinked a few times and chuckled, "It all must've been a dream. You did fall asleep whilst every one was quiet; you were almost stumbling over your own paws when I carried you back to the nursery!"
Wheatkit shook his head, half listening, and murmured. "But it all seemed so rea-"
"Back to bed, Wheatkit. We have a big day tomorrow. We're going outside of camp, and Hawkstar is going to choose the cats for the Gathering." She settled her head back down onto her paws and closed her eyes again.
There's more to explore? Wheatkit's heart leaped with joy. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I can go even further outside!

~

This little child; there's no fear in Her eyes.
Could She not show respect for other dads who have died?
Take two minutes, would you mind?
It's a pittance of time.

God forgive me for wanting to strike him.
My heart pounds in my breast,
Fingers pressed to my lips,
My throat wants to fall out,
My tongue barely resists.
But two minutes I will bide.

Read the letters and poems of the heroes at home.
They have casualties, battles, and fears of their own.
There's a price to be paid if you go, if you stay.
Freedom's fought for and won in numerous ways.
It takes courage to fight in your own war.
It takes courage to fight someone else's war.

Take two minutes, would you mind?
In peace may they rest,
Lest we forget why they died,
Take a pittance of time.

Pittance of Time - Terry Kelly

~~~~

Hello. :)

What, it's been a whole two years since I wrote this, and I'm glad I've edited it.

Editing this chapter has got me thinking lately.

Perhaps one day the world will be a, not perfect, but better place.