The patter of paws damp from puddles of yesterday's rain...

The layers of piers beneath which an army of feral cats hid...

The strange and yet irresistible scent of the pier town, bustling with fish and twolegs...
Oh, everything was perfect in memory.

Everything was perfect and fading away.

***

No matter how many times he woke up in the warrior's den, Mackerelfang still felt like a separate entity from the massive clump of cats snoozing through the early morning. There were notable gaps in the landscape of fur that usually blanketed the cramped den where the dawn patrol had taken their leave, but for the most part, it looked as if Mackerelfang was up early.

As such, he took his time getting up, making sure to stretch out every joint in his aching back and stretching his maw out into a huge yawn. Once he had properly limbered up, he sauntered out of the shaded den into the soft, dappled light of the morning, which soaked his fur in patches as the sun grasped at him from around trees. The branches waved to him from above, shifting about in a soft breeze off the river, and the air smelled like newleaf with hints of rich earth.

When Mackerelfang was young, he had resolved that if he was going to run away, he was going to run away to somewhere beautiful.

Well, he'd done it.

Behind him, Frogcall stumbled out of the warriors den, head heavy and eyes filled with sleep. The dark warrior perked up as he passed Mackerelfang. "Morning, Mac."

"You're not supposed to call me that anymore." Mackerelfang sighed, feeling as if he'd swallowed crowfood. His old name still bought on a rush of sickness and adrenaline, mixed with guilt, but Frogcall would never understand unless Mackerelfang explained everything and he planned to hold that off long as possible.

"Eh, don't worry too much about it. ShallowClan's relaxed about this type of thing." Frogcall purred, clearly misinterpreting his concern. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," Mackerelfang admitted, and the two young warriors walked to the prey pile, which was already stocked with fish and the odd squirrel. Frogcall pulled a squirrel out from near the bottom by its tail, taking quick bites, and Mackerelfang picked a fish near the top at random.

The fish had to have been killed by an apprentice, judging by the small bite marks and disheveled scales. It was not a clean catch, but he wasn't picky.

Frogcall looked over his shoulder and remarked, "It's not like Cranepaw to make messy catches."
"It isn't?" asked Mackerelfang, trying to remember which one 'Cranepaw' was. It bought an image to mind of an apprentice with long legs and a gray pelt with an almost blue tint to it, like crane feathers, but he couldn't remember anything about his hunting skill or lack thereof. "How did you know he caught this, then?"

"Oh, he catches half the pile. Must be because of Creekrush. She's pushing him hard as she can before his assessment."

"Is it that big of a deal?" Mackerelfang tilted his head. Since he'd joined the clan two moons prior, no such event had taken place, and he's spoken little with the apprentices.
"Do you think we'd routinely fail apprentices? If it was hard, I wouldn't be a warrior now." Frogcall purred, "It's more of a way for mentors to show off than anything else. Still, I think she's wasting her time with teaching him all these fish catching tactics. When the floods start up again, we'll move back to the top of the hill, and the poor cat won't know a thing about catching land prey."

"Gossiping about Creekrush, are we now?" Rainfern asked, approaching for the other side of camp. There were a good number of warriors out, and there had been for a while, but Mackerelfang hadn't expected anyone to be listening to their conversation over the morning din. Best he could tell, the opinions of novice warriors held little weight.

"Ah... no." lied Frogcall, and Rainfern's eyes narrowed to amused but dubious slits. She was buying none of it.

"You two clearly need something better to do. I can speak with Ottersoul and she'd be happy to assign you both chores to perform before patrols are assigned, or you can keep yourselves busy. Your choice." She offered, her tone level and her expression without malice.

The two young warriors stared at each other, weighing their options, and Mackerelfang offered, "I could go see if the queens need anything."

"Good luck. Watch out for Drizzlemist, will you?" Frogcall called after him as Mackerelfang stole away to the nursery, Rainfern's stare trailing him all the while.

The nursery was composed, on the surface, of a bush that bordered a point where the land fell away such that the dirt formed something akin to a wall, and the nursery was well dug into the earth behind it. There were clumps of ferns gathered by warriors to supplement areas in the bush that would otherwise let in rain, and near the front of the den was the small rim of dirt the warriors used to keep the water out in case of heavy rain, so that it would flow into the river instead of the den. It was well built and neat as the rest of the camp, which only made it all the more incredible that it had been assembled within a number of moons.

Doubtless, beautiful as it was, it wouldn't survive the floods to come when the river extended past its banks in greenleaf and devoured everything. The move was a lot of trouble to go through, sure, but the ShallowClan cats were industrious. He had full faith in them, after all, hadn't he put his life in their paws by coming here?

"Mackerelfang!" peeped a small voice. Mackerelfang looked down to see a small calico she-cat at his paws, small but made larger both by her great volume of fur and the way she seemed to be perpetually bouncing, making it very hard to get a feel for her exact height. "Are you here to see us?"

"I'm here to help with whatever the queens might need, since I have the time. How are you doing this morning, Poppykit?"

Poppykit purred. "I'm okay. Just waiting for my brother to leave the nursery. He's sleepy all the time and a little boring, but that's okay. Did you have a brother before you came here? Where did you come from, anyways? Were there rogues? Clans? All the grown ups said I shouldn't bother you about it but then I told them I'm not a bother and now that you're here-"

Mackerelfang's ears had slid back a little as the exchange continued, but he retained his poise and replied, "Oh, you're never a bother. I'd just prefer not to talk about the past. It's where it belongs, I assure you."

At that time, a smaller and far less fluffy calico tom emerged from the den, looking disheveled.

"Morning, Birchkit!" cheered Poppykit. "Guess who's here to see us?"

"Oh, I haven't talked to Mackerelfang. Is it true you used to be a rogue?" Birchkit asked, and eyes wide, continued, "Did you kill anyone?"

Alright, we're done here. Trying to hide the edge in his mew, he asked the empty air, "They sure do ask a lot of questions, don't they, Harvestmask?" When there was no response, Mackerelfang looked into the fern and brush den, staring far down into the depths.

"Unfortunately." Mackerelfang's fur bristled as Drizzlemist emerged from the nursery, staring down the kits with her ornery green eyes. "You two haven't been bothering the new warrior, have you?"

"Drizzlemist! Lovely to see you. I had only assumed that... their mother might be looking after them. It's tradition for kits to stay with their mothers, er, queens, until they're ready for training, isn't it?"

If he'd learned a thing from his budding friendship with Frogcall, it was that the tom's fierce mother was not a cat to be messed with, or even encountered if one could help it. Still, curiosity and pity for the two calico kittens kept him anchored. Was Harvestmask ill?

"Ah, you really haven't been here long." Drizzlemist shook her head, and took him aside, away from the den. The kits, their numbers swelled by Drizzlemist's own litter, looked on with a passive fascination, as Drizzlemist hissed lowly, "Harvestmask has a tendency to wander off. She's not quite feeling well lately. Don't mention it to the kits, please. They're not aware anything is wrong."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there... anything I can do to help you?" Mackerelfang asked, feeling profoundly guilty.

"Sure, a few things, but I'll get some other warriors to do them later- it's well past time for patrols. Thanks for keeping them busy, though. Have a nice day." Drizzlemist whisked him away with her tail, and Mackerelfang padded to the Stoneledge just in time to catch the end of the patrols, which Ottersoul was yowling from the top.

"Chicoryfur, you'll take Frogcall and Rosestep to the top of the hill to check on the old camp. When you're done with that, report back to Dewstar." Ottersoul's eyes fell upon Mackerelfang with frightening intensity, and to his dismay, she mewed, "Mackerelfang, you'll be going with me today. No, you're not in trouble, we just need you for Bend duty. Everyone is dismissed."

A few warriors sent up meows of amusement and approval at the announcement, but most of them just moved on to their respective duties.

In spite of himself, Mackerelfang's heart started racing. He knew a certain amount about 'Bend duty', namingly that it was some kind of territorial patrol and that it was boring beyond belief, but no one had bothered to tell him much past that, which was standard procedure. Still, just having the deputy next to him was enough to set his fur on end. She wasn't cruel, but her very presence gave him the feeling he was somehow being judged.

"We thought it best that I accompany you on your first day on the Bend." Ottersoul told him, and then tilted her head towards the edge of camp. "Come on, then."

Mackerelfang nodded, and the two of them set off along the riverside. It was strange to be on the edge, if only because the sky was entirely open on one side and obscured by foliage on the other. Stepping among the stones, the water at their paws, he had the distinct impression that they were walking between two separate worlds.

Ottersoul spoke little, her hardened pads used to the stone, and she had no issue jumping up to walk along the side of the hill where the shoreline cut out entirely. At one point, where the shore plunged right into the water and stayed there for treelengths, they ascended the  whole hill, staring down at the sheer drop beneath them, complete with jagged rocks along the sides. The landscape seemed to burst from the side of the hill and out into the river.

"The bluff," Ottersoul told him. "Have you not been this far out?"

Mackerelfang shook his head, incredulous, "Not since I came here."

"Well, there's a reason we do what we do, and this is it. Otherwise, cats go over the bluff and we dye the river red."

He followed her, wordlessly, down the other side to where the shoreline was met by reeds and trees both, engulfing them in shadow. He felt ice in his stomach- he knew all too well about rivers running red. Still, the clans seemed too noble to perpetuate such bloodshed.

Ottersoul stopped not far ahead, tail curling around her paws, and Mackerelfang paused at her side. Just ahead was little more than a few stepping stones and the river, which had narrowed significantly, running over the shores with a soft burble. A dramatic ray of light fell from above, lighting the middle of the river, and the rest was hidden beneath trees.

"We're here."

They stood in silence for a while, and then from the other side another cat lumbered out into the open, looking up to greet the morning and observe a passing thrush before returning her gaze to them. Mackerelfang could almost make out her eyes from his side of the river- pale green, like grass laden with dew.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"The other clan's cat on Bend duty for the day. It's a peaceful stalemate. As long as we're here, they won't cross, and long as they're here, we won't. That simple."

The brown cat watched them with a practiced patience, hardly moving from her location, and they stayed still as well, long as they could. Mackerelfang had no desire to move and it wasn't as if he had much to say to Ottersoul. They paced for a while when they felt stiff, caught themselves a fish at sunhigh and shared it, and returned to their position.

The cat on the other side of the river was eating some kind of land freshkill, perhaps a rabbit. She hasn't caught anything here... Mackerelfang noticed, Did her clan let her bring this with her?

His stomach grumbled its dissent and his mind stirred with a sudden want to compare the clans traditions, side by side, like some kind of bizarre contest with no winner. She looked back at him, finished, and they held each other's gaze for a long time before resuming their duties.

Dragonflies flitted over the water, lazy and content, and the birdcall above them started abruptly after their meal and didn't end until the sun was on its way done. The reflection of the massive ball of light was evident for a while on the water, beautiful and blinding, and then it was gone. Soon, the sky was stained a soft hue of deep purple, with clouds a startling pink, brighter than any carnations.

As if they'd shared some kind of mutual agreement, the other cat dipped their head and stalked back into their own territory, and Ottersoul turned to leave as well. Despite her previous coldness, there was a twinkle of appreciation in her eye and a soft purr in her throat, something close to maternal and yet more personal, a kindness to genuine to be condescending.

"You did well." Ottersoul told him as they walked away.

I didn't do much of anything, thought Mackerelfang, but he kept his mouth shut.

"This must seem like a waste of time to you, but it's just one cat, usually, and it's kept peace for moons. I appreciate your patience. Most cats fidget like mad the first time."

Mackerelfang nodded, but said nothing. He had no good response, and though it was a boring day, he was happy to know he had helped.

Instead, he resolved to make the most of the last of it. He watched both skies on the way home, the forest and river both red not from blood but the glorious sunset over RyeClan's territory, and wondered just what he had run to and how long the stalemate would last.