Warrior Cats: Fallen Leaves

6 Fateful Decisions

Last Updated: July 9 2017

"Right. Dewfeather, for tomorrow's dawn patrol, you can check MarshClan with..." Reedfang hesitated, black pelt twitching underneath the cool, expectant stares of the senior warriors. Which cats would find the most information without crossing borders or starting a fight? "Russetdawn, Mudsplash and Pounceprey."
Russetdawn, Icetalon and Dewfeather shared glances, nodded with approval. Elation, with a twinge of nervousness, surged through Reedfang's belly. I chose the right warriors! The sun, low in the sky, suddenly felt cool on his dark pelt, which was dappled orange by the whispering branches of the elderly willow. It made sense, as the patrol had a senior's wisdom, a witness's knowledge, and a young warrior's curiosity. Still, it felt strange directing cats older than him.
"Good choice, Reedfang. You seem to have a natural talent at making orders," Icetalon chuckled.
"Well, um...every cat is special in their own special way." Reedfang pawed at his white nose-tip, cringing at the dumb words. He had to sound more like a leader!
"Let all cats old enough to swim gather here underneath the Fallen Oak for a Clan meeting!"
A meeting? Again? Why? Reedfang blinked towards the Fallen Oak, saw a brown shadow leap onto the knotted tendrils of the splintered log. Hawkstar. He skilfully climbed by using pawholds between the roots and used his claws to steady himself when he reached the top. A few cats already milled below.
"We can discuss the rest of the patrols later. For now, let's see what Hawkstar wants," Reedfang ordered the other cats, confidence raised by Icetalon's praise.
"Yes, deputy," Russetdawn mocked an apprentice voice, her tail twitching with amusement. Reedfang felt a spark of annoyance, but still deeply admired how Russetdawn teased any high-ranking cat.
Allowing her small remark to pass with a polite purr, he dismissed the group, then trotted to the Fallen Oak. He sat near the front, where he'd seen Foxmuzzle sit, nevertheless self-conscious as the rest of the Clan gathered behind him, whispering frantically. As a distraction to cur his unease, he marvelled at what a privilege being deputy could be.
Organizing patrols, important decisions, more respect from your Clanmates. But what tantalised Reedfang the most, what made his heart swell, was the chance of leadership. All that power... his paws tingled. All that responsibility... his belly dropped, like a stone sinking to the riverbed. Would he make decisions well? Could he meet the Clan's expectations? What would the other Clans think of him? What if it came to war?
Then what?
Silence from his Clanmates disturbed his ponder. "....to the Gathering will be..." Reedfang glanced up sharply towards Hawkstar, whose gaze rested on the Clan. The meeting had started!
"...Dewfeather; Mothpetal; Willowpaw; Scarface; Pounceprey; Mudsplash; Nightpaw; Blueripple; Weaseldash, and of course, the medicine cats, deputy and I."
"Don't any of us get to go?" a kit mewed behind him. He turned his head (like all of the other cats) and saw Mousefern's son, Wheatkit, staring up at Hawkstar at the edge of the crowd.
The long-furred leader meowed gruffly, with a hint of amusement, "No, Wheatkit. All kits of any age are forbidden to go to Gatherings. The journey would be tiresome and it's part of the Warrior Code."
Reedfang could almost see Wheatkit's mind furiously processing this simple statement as he stared at the ground. "Then why do elders get to go?"
Gasps erupted all around Reedfang.
"Wheatkit...! What are you doing?" Mousefern hissed sharply, "Show some respect!" Yet, the elders murmured with sympathy and amusement for the oblivious kit. It wasn't a secret that Wheatkit lacked more intellect than most cats did. Not after he couldn't even fight Pebblekit properly.
Now that was a statement...
Hawkstar's ear twitched. "Elders have fulfilled their duties to the Clan and-"
"But what if-"
"Meeting dismissed!" Hawkstar interrupted, looking quite irritated with the many questions. As cats began to stand up, purring with amusement, Hawkstar added, "Since it's sunhigh, drink and feed before the sun gets too low in the sky. I expect the cats chosen to go the Gathering to be ready by sundown! Unless you want a Gathering where you freeze your paws off, of course."
Every cat instantly advanced to their chosen activities, while Mothpetal, Dewfeather and Weaseldash cast sympathetic glances towards Wheatkit. Reedfang couldn't see why they pitied him so much. His lack of intellect was natural; Wheatkit was one of the rare Affected. Birdsong had described it as a cat born with nightcough and cursed with birth defects. Not that it mattered anymore - it was unspoken but the whole Clan knew that he would probably die by the end of his apprenticeship. His first apprentice, Birchpaw, did. Reedfang's stomach churned with grief.
Reedfang brushed the thought away. Wheatkit wasn't getting any was smarter, was he? Tail twitching, Reedfang brushed past Sootwhisker to choose a small carp from the fresh-kill pile. His younger brother, carrying a trout, gave him a nod. Reedfang nodded back. As Sootwhisker moved away, Reedfang saw the senior warriors walk towards him again. His heart leapt in surprise.
"So, you've decided rest of the patrols for tomorrow? For example, the dusk patrol?" Dewfeather prompted, selecting a trout for herself, green eyes humorous.
"Yush..." Reedfang mumbled through his carp, surprised that the senior warriors had returned so quickly, "Uhm...maywe Villowvaw can vo vith Mothvetal vund-"
"Reedfang. Take the fish out of your mouth - you're a deputy now. Not a kit," Dewfeather scolded him, whilst Russetdawn and Icetalon chuckled between themselves.
"Yes, mothe- I mean, Dewfeather..." he replied, feeling his fur prickle with embarrassment again.