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It starts with three.
Technically, if you go back, it starts with two and one. But three is better so here it starts with three.
Squirrelflight brings home three.
Brambleclaw calls out three names to the clan.
Hollykit Lionkit Jaykit
Leafpool returns to her den.
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It starts with three.
Technically, if you go back it starts with one and two. But three is safer so here it starts with three.
Whitetail curls around three.
Onestar consults with his augur over three names.
Harekit Kestrelkit Heatherkit
Barkface looks up at a cloudless sky.
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Three becomes two and one.
But really, two and one are still three in the way that it matters.
Hollypaw Lionpaw Jaypaw
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Three becomes one and two.
And really, one and two are still three in the way that it matters.
Harepaw Kestrelpaw Heatherpaw
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Two meet at the half moon.
Hollypaw Kestrelpaw
Two meet at the border.
Lionpaw Heatherpaw
Two meet at the gathering.
Harepaw Jaypaw
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Hollypaw goes first. She always does.
Born first, walked first, spoke first.
She decided she wanted to be an augur first.
Hollypaw has long legs unlike her mother and dark fur with no stripes like her father.
Hollypaw is the greatest lorekeeper Thunderclan has ever had, with a memory that would make Windclan jealous.
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Kestrelpaw is second. He doesn't complain.
He has fit neatly in the middle since the beginning.
He fits neatly into his role as a healer.
Kestrelpaw has sleek fur that doesn't quite match his father, and a soft voice that won't sound like his mother no matter how hard he tries.
Kestrelpaw thinks he doesn't want to be great, despite his name.
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Lionpaw comes next. It's how it works.
He likes it, not quite the leader of the three but he has his place. It's easy.
He didn't really think about becoming a warrior. That was also easy.
Lionpaw has golden fur like his grandmother and amber eyes like his grandfather.
Lionpaw believes himself simple. He wants to be strong and noble. He thinks it will be easy.
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Heatherpaw falls last. She grows used to it.
She just runs faster, with the kind of ambition her brothers don't share.
She goes unnoticed, but with the wind in your eyes you can hardly cry.
Heatherpaw has a thick pelt like her mother and a mew that sounded like her father until she changed it.
Heatherpaw has many secrets, and no one to tell them to.
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Harepaw was first. He didn't even know it before it was taken away.
He fights for his coveted position, but its a losing battle.
He tries not to see how no one else seems to win either, but he's always been more of a flusher than a runner - so he closes his eyes.
Harepaw has his parent's colors and no one could tell you what he sounds like even a second after speaking to him.
Harepaw is just fine.
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Jaypaw arrives last. It annoys him most of the time.
He trails after everyone else and so he learns to walk on his own.
He is capable of ignoring how lonely it feels, and one day he will curse the fact he ever had to learn.
Jaypaw has a fire in his eyes that matches his father and a fur color that puzzles everyone including his mother.
Jaypaw dreams of glory, of being peerless in a way that no longer means a bad thing.
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Two meet at the half moon.
Kestrelpaw Jaypaw
Two meet at the border.
Hollypaw Heatherpaw
Two meet at the gathering.
Harepaw Lionpaw
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This works better. It is not safer.
Kestrelpaw leads and Jaypaw does not snap at his tail. It is a new experience for both of them.
Hollypaw runs with Heatherpaw, one marveling at her speed the other grinning at her laugh. It feels right.
Harepaw says hello to Lionpaw every time they see each other, even before they spar beneath a starless sky. It cannot be noble nor fine.
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Lionblaze is first. He hates it.
His paws are stained red and he despises his strength. He despises how easy it was.
If you ask, any cat would say he is noble. His name certainly is. He cannot bear to hear it spoken. He avoids the lake shore, the distorted amber that reflects back at him. He wishes he could be simple.
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Kestrelflight goes first. He has figured it out.
He still sits in the middle, though, on the rare days when they share a meal.
He says he is fine, but he presses himself closer to his littermates as though the sun would burn less harshly upon them. He hopes so, at least.
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Heathertail follows next. She doesn't know how to feel.
She runs to the border, her pale pelt blending into the moors until she finally feels like a part of Windclan.
Cats start taking a second look at her, and she revels in it as much as she shies away from it.
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Jayfeather comes second. He is practiced in the way.
He has settled into a routine. Snap his jaws, and count his steps. Measure leaves with his whiskers and pay no mind to the gap between him and his brother in front.
He scoffs at kit-wishes of power, and sleeps with the hopeless dream that he will not set sight on the stars.
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Harespring falls last. He digs his claws into the ground.
He has never been as fast as his sister, but now his steps are weighed down by a black mud that threatens to drown him.
On the occasion he is asked how he is, he smiles and says he is fine. They always forget as soon as they walk away, anyways, and if Harespring wonders what would happen if he told the truth, he never shows.
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Hollyleaf arrives last. She can run with the ease of a moorland cat but no one ever taught her how to stop all that momentum.
She melds into the tunnel rock, and struggles to breath, the harsh rasp of her lungs echoing off the walls.
If she strains her ears and shuts her eyes she can almost imagine that it's Heathertail running with her.
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It ends with six.
Technically, if you go back, it starts with three and three.
This doesn't really work, but it is safer.
No one is first, second, last.
Hollyleaf is dead.
Kestrelflight is sure.
Lionblaze is peaceful.
Heathertail is alive.
Harestar is content.
Jayfeather is calm.
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They make it work. They know how to play it safe.
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Two meet at the half moon.
Kestrelflight Jayfeather
And they talk of apprentices and new kits and grumpy elders. They do not talk about how Jayfeather leans into Kestrelflight on the way up to the Moonpool, or how Kestrelflight presses their pelts together until they blend.
Two meet at the border.
Hollyleaf Heathertail
And they run in step, starry paws ever so light as brown paws pound against eternally-grassy hills. They don't talk about how Hollyleaf pulls ahead at the end of the night, climbing into the sky, or how Heathertail names her kits after pitch black and bright green.
Two meet at the gathering.
Harestar Lionblaze
And they exchange friendly greetings, paying no mind to the curious stares of the young cats. They don't talk about how Harestar always asks Lionblaze how he is doing, or how Lionblaze never touches a hair on his pelt, always a half tail of distance between the two.