The cold was settling across FieldClan's territory as the heat plodded south to claim new lands. Grasses browned and trees turned gold, but still the drought had not abated. Even as the landscape turned to a pallet of amber before the cats' eyes, water and prey were still scarce. And yet hope was finally returning, as if spurred on by the thought of bitter frost and biting winds. Such a thing wasn't commonplace, but it was still so.

As the sun faltered over clan cats' heads, time passed. A moon went by in the blink of an eye as August was rinsed away and chased by September. In this time, Brackenkit and Dustkit grew. Their paws broadened and their kit-soft faces sharpened under the feathered brush of age's tireless paws.

Goosewing's children grew as well. Maplekit's eyes narrowed at the dry, solitary world she had been born into, where cats fought silently over prey and brother could turn on sister over something so simple. Windkit's mind was scraped and filed and honed until all he knew was what he was supposed to be. But Silkkit was simply their sister.

Seedscatter healed quicker than what was anticipated by Shrewtoe, and he left the medicine den with a new scar in his ear. Owltail was not given that kind of miracle. To the deputy, she was far too still in her nest for Seedscatter and Beetlefang to walk away healed. And still, he was worn down until his face hit the earth. Night after night, he was hit by storm and sand, storm and sand until he was so warped by mud that that was what he was.

But tonight, Harestar stood under the retreating light of a crescent sky in front of FieldClan. Her eyes saw each cat, broken, beaten, but still alive. And she smiled, because all she saw was a mirrored image in a pool of water.

The dappled she-cat perched in the sycamore, paws balanced easily in the crook of two branches. The two halves of the tree recoiled from her, spreading and faltering until their life was spread too thin and the growth ended in a magnificent display of violets and reds. Seedscatter sat beneath her, eyes alight in the silver air. His breath was a faint gathering of condensation around his muzzle in the leaf-bare night.

"FieldClan." Her voice was a song to Seedscatter's ears, regal and powerful. "Tonight we gather to acknowledge and reward the growth of two of our kits. Brackenkit and Dustkit have both chosen to follow paths of warriors after their mother and father, and we welcome them as apprentices for the first time tonight."

Yowls of approval followed her short speech, and the two toms glowed in the praise.

"Brackenkit," Harestar called, ending the short celebration with an indiscernable twitch of her whiskers. The tom stepped forward at her command. "Under this moon, do you promise to remember the warriors before you who stood in the same light?"

Brackenkit nodded his affirmation, voicing it with a strong "I do."

"Under these stars, do you promise to follow the path that our ancestors have chosen for you and do your best to uphold their code?"

Another yes.

"Seedscatter will make sure that you keep to your promises, sacred tonight and forevermore. You will receive your name when the clan sees your progress as an apprentice of FieldClan and deems you ready to take your full title," Harestar meowed, eyes warm with affection as she spoke the words that would bring the young tom into his next faze of life. "Brackenpaw, you may join your mentor."

The golden cat leaped eagerly up to join Seedscatter on his perch. Seedscatter draped his tail across his apprentice's back in a brief gesture of approval before letting it curl lazily over his paws.

The ceremony was repeated when Dustkit stepped up, far more nervous than his brother had been under the stares of his clan-mates. He was paired with Cloudleap, who almost jumped for joy at his new appointment to the status of mentor.

For the first time in a long time, Seedscatter wasn't thinking about the dreams or the White Cat, as he had named his nightmare's leading actor. His paws were on solid ground, and he was standing tall. For the first time since Beetlefang (Beetlepaw, at the time, of course), Seedscatter had a responsibility that wasn't linked to the death of FieldClan.

And that was when, yowling up to the heavens, Seedscatter felt a prickle in his pelt; it was a distinct sensation that he hadn't had in such a long, long time. He closed his eyes, parting his jaws as he tilted his face up to the sky. Soft pricks, far to light for his liking dashed his eyelids and tapped at his whiskers.

He was beaten to the announcement by Brackenpaw, who called out the word that no cat had dared to even dream about in moons.

"Rain!"

For a heartbeat, no response came from the cats below. Not one of them was willing to believe so early and be let down so soon. But as the clouds above darkened the sky even further, the downpour increased in its urgency.

Wheatfur, who had remained shy and silent for as long as Seedscatter could remember, was the first to raise her voice back into the choir that followed the apprenticeship ceremonies. One by one and two by two, she was joined until the chorus rang out through the fields.

Seedscatter was too relieved to care that he was soaked to the bone and shaking uncontrollably. Pure euphoria was pouring from the sky in rivulets.

He was struck by the sudden thought that Goosewing's litter had never seen rain. He turned his gaze onto them quickly, flicking his ears over to their position just outside the barn doors. Windkit and Maplekit had paused their bickering and were watching their clanmates with wide eyes, unsure where they fit in to this celebration. Silkkit was even further from their places, firmly planted by her mother's side. Was that nostalgia he glimpsed in her expression, or just an illusion cast by the shadows?

But Seedscatter couldn't care less about whatever he saw. There was a new fire burning within his clan-mates, and he wanted to soak up whatever he could of it before it was gone. This blaze was warm, unlike the heat that had permeated him before.

It was a long time before the cats retreated to their dens that night, each one dripping and sputtering as if they had been dunked in a river. But there was a new faith flickering like a young star in Seedscatter. He went to sleep that night knowing that dreams would not haunt him.

But it was not a dream that he needed to be worried about.

The morning drew sleepy heads out from underneath the sycamore, gazing out of the den with happy eyes. It was already noon by the time that the realization came that one of these heads was missing.

Cloudleap's body was dragged out of his nest for the world to see, his still-damp fur clinging to his bones and his eyes far too dim in his shrink-wrapped skull.

-

author's note:

i'm sorry