"And then- and then what?" asked Larkkit, her high voice like that of a small bird as she chirruped over her brother.

"Well, before the two clans parted ways, Shallowstar and Ryestar decided who would go where. While Ryestar got the better territory, Shallowstar picked cats first- and chose the more dangerous, powerful warriors in the clan for himself." Northwind told her kits. "It was a cruel predicament, to be certain..."

Lioncall, massive and strong like the fields given cat form, entered with a disappointed shake of his head, spraying water from his rain-soaked fur. He objected, "Don't be ridiculous. The claim that those cats were any less capable than their brethren is just a cruel rumor- a rumor perpetuated by ShallowClan, nonetheless. The real danger is that a lot of them were young or underqualified. Many had been prisoners under Talon's reign and were less than keen on joining the clans. Dewstar also set up multiple cats who flat-out hated each other in RyeClan in hopes that collaboration would be impossible and we'd be forced to disband."

"But that didn't happen, did it?" asked Larkkit.

Lioncall purred. "Oh, stars no. Some of it was Shallowstar's fault, too- having a common enemy to gripe over bought all of us rowdy cats together."

"That was what I was getting to," Northwind replied. "No matter what our enemy does, together we can overcome any threat. The young grew fierce and brave under the tutelage of caring mentors. Those who were hesitant learned to love their clanmates like kin. These are morals and standards we carry on to this day, founded in that desolate leafbare long ago."

Gingerkit mewed, "I dunno 'bout that. I don't think Howlclaw loves anyone, not even her kin."

"Gingerkit!" cried the queen. "I'm so sorry, Lioncall. He's just a kit. He says the most prepostrous things... "

Lioncall nodded. "Gingerkit, that's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

Gingerkit, startled at even a hint of disappointment from Lioncall, replied, "S'pose so. Sorry, Lioncall." He got to his paws. "Northwind, can we go outside now? I'm bored of stories."

"You don't want to go outside today," Lioncall said to the assembled party. "It's raining like the stars themselves are falling down."

"You'll get all dirty," Northwind complained.

"I don't care!" Gingerkit meowed, puffing his chest out. "A little bit of dirt doesn't stop real warriors."

"I'll have to groom you again." Northwind added.

"Again? You just groomed me this morning." Gingerkit whined.

While the kit negotiated with his mother, Lioncall noticed Larkkit tucked by the edge of the nursery, watching the rain fall outside. She shared Fallingfeather's pensive, nervous energy, a maternal air unlike that of your average kit. Certainly, Lioncall's own kits had never stayed so still for so long. He remembered the golden balls of fur, tumbling and jumping at his sides, and suppressed a melancholy purr. On his way out, he draped his tail across the kit's shoulders. "Have a nice day," he told her.

She blinked back, wide eyes full of wonder as he stepped out into the downpour. He wasn't looking at her, however, instead she looked past him at the water itself. "I can hear it," he thought he heard her whisper.

Strange, but he had full confidence there were the markings of an intrepid warrior within those small shoulders and bright eyes.

Lioncall paced across the fallen tree, whose branches hung heavy with water, on the way to the warrior's den. The den itself was crowded and damp from the warriors who'd been dragging themselves across camp and tracking mud in and out of it. The scent was appalling, the water twisting the familiar trails of his clanmates into something almost sour with the aftertaste of a long-dead fish. That might be where the scent was coming from, although who was stupid enough to go fishing in the midst of a storm like this, Lioncall was uncertain.

"Lioncall," Ginkgotail greeted him. "Have you seen Owlstar?"

"No, I haven't. Do you have business with her?"

"I was going to ask about patrols, since Foxcatcher's still taking the morning one out."

"I'd suppose she's in her den. If not, she's likely by the old, twisted tree out towards the river. She sometimes goes there to check the floodwaters on days like these, or to get moss and water for the elders and kits." Lioncall said. He recalled days of padding beside his leader in the rain, when he was still young and ambitious. It was there that he had admitted to her the position of deputy no longer appealed to him, after his last battle. Cats had a way of hounding him down as if he held the position to this day.

As Ginkgotail walked away into the rain, his huge tail blowing about in the winds behind him, Lioncall settled into his nest. The afterscent of his mate was strong on the bedding beside him, not soured by the rain. He pitied her- Bend duty on a day like today would be a nightmare. Lioncall's son, Lightcatcher, was dozing off not far away. His short, well-groomed fur rose and fell with every breath he took, spiked by the little time he'd spent in the rain this morning.

Lioncall looked back towards the entrance, which was, thankfully, unobscured by other cats. Instead, he had a clear view of the camp ahead, and the few trees in the distance that marked the few recognizable points in the landscape. The rest was not monotonous, but rather tangles of brush and patches of high grass so intricate that committing it to memory was done by the body instead of the mind. By instinct, the cats of RyeClan knew this land.

Birthright, as it had once been called. Did anyone truly have a right to home? What had the cats before the time of clans kept as birthright?

Outside, the rain picked up into torrential sheets, and Lioncall felt a shiver down his back even in his dormant state. This kind of weather bought back bad memories. Cats pouring over each other like droplets in a rainstorm, bloodied bodies shaking like branches on trees, claw flashes like lightning...

In the distance, thunder heralded in the approach of four dirt-covered young warriors, all of the with prey in their mouths and discontent in their eyes. Their poor spirits were not immediately obvious upon their entrance into camp, as there was no one who dared go into the rain to greet them, but when even Lemonshine collapsed onto her nest in the warrior's den, Lioncall knew there was something amiss.

"Just came back from patrol." Lemonshine said, looking up at her father with weary sadness.

"I can see that," Lightcatcher mewed, "but was the rain really that bad? I never thought I'd see the day my sister didn't spring into the den with all the energy of a two-moon old kit."

"I don't think you're giving kits enough credit," Lioncall replied, lying down next to his daughter while keeping his eyes on his son. "I just met a kit today who hardly talked the whole time I was there, and then spent a good amount of time watching the rain like an elder."

"Call me a quiet kit, then," Lemonshine's curled ears twitched as she stretched out her limbs, then put her head onto Lioncall's side, burying her face in his long fur. A soft yawn escaped her mouth. "You wouldn't believe what we've been through today. First, we could find next to nothing, even though we searched all morning, and now it's late into what would be past sunhigh and we just got back because Dapplebird scented ShallowClan on our territory!"

Lioncall turned, worry staining his gaze. "ShallowClan? It's been moons: seasons, even."

"I know. We couldn't smell a thing because of the rain, so it was likely a false alarm, but it was a full set of pawprints coming from the Bend area and everything. There was no RyeClan scent about it, that was for certain."

Lioncall got to his paws. "If those conniving weasels have put a paw on our territory after all the trouble we went through to make peace accords with them, for the love of the stars, I'm going to slit every one of their throats."

Lightcatcher scrambled to his paws as well. "Let's not worry about that. I'm sure it was just a false alarm. Should we go get some freshkill? I'm sure both of you are hungry."

Water cloaked them as they left, the warmth of the greenleaf rain unnerving. Lioncall closed his eyes and felt it against his skin and fur, tried to silence the memories stirring beneath his pelt in the tepid wind:

The trickle of blood down his face from the last battle had not yet abated, where they'd more than nicked his ear. Still, he tore away from the medicine den, to her thinking place, and they fell into the steady rhythm they had once shared in war as he followed her to the tree...

When they arrived, he broke the silence first: "I can't lead them, Owlstar. Not like this. I was too weak to save her..."

"You were strong. As long as there are cats like you- like her- the clan will live on, new life will thrive, and other kits will be born. With honor, we will defend her legacy as long as we walk this side of the river."

Lioncall looked up at the stars. "New life. I'd pick someone young, then."

"I have someone in mind."

"Will he keep up the fight?"

"Oh, Lioncall... we plan to end it."

He was brought back to reality by the sound of Lightcatcher's voice, which had rosen to a yowl in order to be heard over the downpour: "Strange to think the hard rains are already coming in. You think they're early?"

"No, no... greenleaf's coming to an end." Lioncall insisted.
This was the way it always was with greenleaf- either it had been too short, and couldn't possibly be ending now, or it was too long to ever be bought to a close by the petty likes of leaffall.

Among the others reckless enough to laze about outside in the middle of a downpour, Blazefury stood by the freshkill pile, taking in the rain with his ears tilted all the way back. He angled his ears towards them as they approached. "Lovely weather, isn't it? I just got back from a small patrol myself. Heard about your troubles, Lemonshine."

"Oh, it was nothing."

"We were over in the forest. It was drier, but the prey still wouldn't go for it." he nudged a small, thin crow with his paw. "Best we could find on a day like this."

"I'll take from the bottom of the pile." suggested Lioncall. "I'm almost crowfood myself, the older prey doesn't bother me."
"Stop that," Lemonshine insisted. "Skycrest will be disappointed to hear you talking like that again."

"Skycrest looks the same as she did the day I fell in love with her, in the heat of battle when we were young warriors. She's a queen among cats, she doesn't have to worry about growing old." Lioncall replied.

Blazefury fixed the small group with a pointed stare, as if trying to divulge something from them. Lioncall felt a shiver up his spine. Without another word, Lioncall began eating the rugged squirrel he'd selected, which was just as disappointed to be eaten as Lioncall was to be eating the likes of it.

As he bit in, he was sure there was something was quite off about the prey- not the sogginess, which was offputting, nor the kind of musty aftertaste that came with age- no, Lioncall was quite sure that there was something bitter in his food