Ginger Snaps

01 . rushing water

"I'M SORRY, Harvestcroak," the medicine cat, Leafspeck, whispered sadly. "There was nothing I could do for her, nor her kits."

Harvestcroak flicked his tail, feeling a burning at the back of his eyes. The dark russet tom cleared his throat, but said nothing, as if already on vigil for the death of his mate and kits.

It was the cold that got to them, Leafspeck continued, though the tom was no longer listening. Rabbitpelt ... oh, Rabbitpelt ... The leaf-bare had been too harsh for the queen to survive on her own, and so the kits — two she-kits and a tom — had died with her.

"You should name them," Leafspeck said, after a few moments of silence. Harvestcroak blinked, twitching his whiskers. His paws were numb with frost, his tongue with grief. "So that they don't go into StarClan nameless."

Harvestcroak shut his eyes. "I can't. I can't ... look at them."

Looking at the bodies of his frozen kits would remind him that he had failed as a mate, and as a father, and that was too much for the grief-stricken tom to bear. Leafspeck rested his long tabby tail on Harvestcroak's shoulder.

"It will get easier," the medicine cat told him, his tone gentle. "In time."

Harvestcroak avoided the younger cat's gaze, and if cats could cry, his tears would've been frozen on his cheeks. StarClan, take me now, so that I can remain with Rabbitpelt forever.

But they didn't, and the tom curled his tail around his paws to keep himself warm, as he had no kin left to sit beside.

*

A moon had passed since Rabbitpelt's death. Harvestcroak stood alongside the river bordering his Clan and the neighboring one's borders, his reflection swirling in the dark water. The ice from the leaf-bare flew past as he heard apprentices giggling, and he turned to watch Quickfoot and Silversnout lead their patrol further into the brush, Nightpaw and Vixenpaw hot on their heels.

He sighed, flicking his tail. Otterstar had deigned him inadequate to take part in any patrols, even a moon after his mate's passing. Sitting alone inside the camp was driving him up the walls, and even his old friends avoided him like Quickfoot and Silveesnout dared not call a hello.

He was a stranger to his own Clan, and a stranger to himself, too. No longer was he the spritely Harvestpaw who charged after his mentor to attack the badgers raiding the camp, which earned him a scar down his flank. No longer was he the proud Harvestcroak who puffed out his chest fur as his Clan shouted his new warrior name.

But that was all because Rabbitpelt was no longer beside him, even though ... sometimes ... he could see her tawny-ginger pelt flicker in the shadows of the den, and he'd leap over to cry out "Where were you?" and she'd purr and press her nose to his throat, curling her tail around his own. "I was here all along, silly."

And then he'd wake up, and feel the empty nest beside him, and step out into the night and do nothing but stare at the stars and cats who would betrayed him, even in death. The ones who had taken her from him.

Harvestcroak shook his head and flattened his ears. Talk to Otterstar, he told himself. I can't do nothing anymore. I'm not a kit.

Behind him, there was a splash. He twisted, surprised at the sound, expecting a fallen branch to be bobbing in the water — instead it was a flailing kit, jaws agape and eyes wide and wet with water.

Harvestcroak's fur prickled on end. A kit in the water! No Clan would ever be so foolish as to leave the young unsupervised, but the grey-ticked white pelt underneath the choppy waves told him otherwise. With a pounce that made his teeth jar together, he slammed into the water and was immediately swept away by the current.

Gurgling freezing water, the russet cat released a squawk as he flailed his paws, trying to hook onto anything to keep his face above the burbling waves. I'm going to kill us both! StarClan, help me!

He heard the kit squeak, and, focusing beyond the chattering of his teeth, he forced his legs to push through the current. The grey-white fur of the kit flew past his nose, and he propelled forward with one last supreme effort, catching hold of the young cat's scruff.

The mewling of the fragile creature reinvigorated him as he clawed through the water, fur bushed as the cold tore through him like a fox, and he washed up on the bank of MistClan's territory, beyond the border of his own.

Harvestcroak spat up water as enemy yowls raked through the air, and he collapsed in the mud as his strength failed him.

*

"This is an act of war!" Thornstar spat, his gnarled claws raking into the stones that bordered the river. Harvestcroak kept his eyes on the kit in the paws of a MistClan queen, and felt a swift tightening in his heart.

The young tom had been taken in as a new son, and he had been imprisoned for three days until the Gathering, a prisoner and trespasser. His heart burnt in his chest as Otterstar looked at him, his leader's yellow-golden fur short yet unruffled.

"It is an act of valor," Otterstar corrected. "Harvestcroak saved the kit from drowning, and was nearly killed by your own forces for his efforts."

Thornstar released a "Pah!", his bristled brown fur, tinged with grey, spiked.

DireClan's leader, Roamstar, looked on, her yellow eyes boring into Thornstar. "None of the Clans are missing kits. A loner must have given birth to the youngling on Clan territory — your own, if Harvestcroak's story is to be believed."

There were murmurs and yowls of protest at this, and Harvestcroak kneaded his paws into the rock nervously. No Clan liked to be accused of having lax patrols, but the splash had indeed come from MistClan's borders.

"Otterstar's warrior saved the kit," Roamstar declared, over the jabbering. "Otterstar should decide its fate."

Otterstar inclined his head to Roamstar, though Harvestcroak could tell he was troubled. What queens did ForestClan have to feed the kit? But dare the leader give away a potential enemy to another Clan? Harvestcroak held his breath, his eyes flickering from his leader to the kit he had rescued, tucked up in the paws of an unwelcome she-cat.

I'd look after you, he told the kit, unexpectedly, in his mind. If I could.

"ForestClan will take him as our own," Otterstar boomed, finally. Harvestcroak got to his paws as meows of delight spread across the Clan, and he felt excitement bloom in his chest.

Roamstar flicked her tail. "It is decided, then," she meowed. Thornstar looked away, and MistClan had nothing more to say. Harvestcroak approached the queen, who released hold of the kit and looked to the sky, almost snarling.

"You're with me now, kit," the tom whispered in the young one's ear. The kit met his gaze with bright blue eyes, flicking his ears. Harvestcroak felt a new warmth in his pelt, and he took hold of the kit's scruff.

Don't worry, he vowed, feeling the weight of a tender soul in his jaws. He joined his Clan as they greeted him after days of separation, welcoming the new one to their Clan with beaming faces and hearts of triumph.

I'll look after you.

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character collection;

Harvestcroak ; a dark russet tom-cat with white forepaws and amber eyes
Leafspeck ; a dark brown, darker tabby-striped tom with green eyes . medicine cat
Otterstar ; a large, golden-furred tom with light ears and scars across his muzzle
Roamstar ; a yellow-eyed she-cat with black fur
Thornstar ; an older brown tom with torn ears and near-black eyes
Rescued kit ; a gangly grey-speckled, white tom-kit with blue eyes
Rabbitpelt ; a tawny, dark brown she-cat with green eyes and a white underbelly
Unnamed kit ; a dark brown she-kit with a white muzzle and black tabby stripes
Unnamed kit ; a calico ginger-and-white she-kit with black ears
Unnamed kit ; a light brown tom-kit with a thick tail and white paws

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