Book One of the How the Mighty Fall Trilogy
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Stonetail is a headstrong young warrior and the daughter of Greystar, a formidable she-cat known for her strict adherence to the code. All her life, she has practiced honor, valor, and fait...
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No one stops her as she leaves. Trying to understand it all at once is like trying to wrestle a badger into submission. Stonetail is already worn thin, but this has just pressed her thinner.
She limps out of the camp, feeling curious eyes rove across her back. Despite the worried glances, she proceeds forward, taking measured steps through the hollow log entrance. Wood creaks underfoot, and the springy moss clings to her pads. She presses on through the pine needle beds of the forest, but going far is not an option. Her fresh wounds from Grasspelt sting fiercely underneath their poorly administered dressings, and if there is trouble, she wants to be in range of help.
Frustratingly, that range includes her mother.
What had Greystar been thinking? What in StarClan possessed her to mate outside the Clan, to a murderer no less? Stonetail settles to groom herself with harsh, quick strokes that scrape the skin more than clean her coat.
She feels dirty.
The nagging itch at the base of her tail is just her imagination, she tells herself. It's just stress, not proof of tainted blood. If it were her lineage, the itch would have presented itself long ago. Still, it's difficult to shake the notion that something under the surface is unclean, infected. Just to be safe, she gives in to the urge to scratch, nipping and gnawing at the afflicted area. Twisted around in this manner, she spies Featherstar approaching from the corner of her eye.
The WillowClan leader is alone. "Can we talk?" she asks from a few paces away. A safe distance. A wise distance.
"About?" Stonetail grunts. "This is Greystar's business, not yours."
But Featherstar takes a seat anyway. "My sister is useless when it comes to tact, and you and I both know that the last thing you need is for her to be out here too."
"Did she send you?"
"No."
"Then why come?"
"Because I understand." The two she-cats lock eyes. Featherstar does not flinch from Stonetail's hollow stare, and continues steadily. "It might not be the same situation, but I at least understand the shock. We grew up learning mixed blood is something to be ashamed of, which is a load of fox dung. It makes borders and wars more complicated, but it doesn't dictate your life. Or your character."
Stonetail curls her lip, thinking of the rainy day when she spoke with Lakewhisker about Greystar's expectations. About feeling like she was being tested to see if she was really a leader's daughter. All along, Greystar was probably testing to see if she was a killer's daughter instead. "She thought I'd be like him," the grey warrior growls. "She always has. That's why she wants so much out of me. All she ever does is test me!" And is that not dictating her life enough?
Featherstar drops her head. "I'm not going to pretend to know what it's been like, having my sister for a mother. I'm not going to pretend I know why she treats you like she does, either. That's for you two to sort through."
