Gustclan Post 39

Sparrowfoot’s eyes opened to a view of a familiar forest. And as per usual, there was the grey kit she knew to be her sister.
"Thought I’d bring you in slightly more fully than usual; I just need your attention a bit more fully. There’s a tabby in Vixenclan that Heronstar must not meet.”
"There’s a clan called Vixenclan? What about Foxclan?”
"Taken, actually.” Elmfang rolled her eyes at Sparrowfoot’s astonished look to hear of two completely unfamiliar clans so quickly. “There’s a lot of clans now. But stop diverting. Just because you don’t like getting omens doesn’t mean they’re not important.”
Sparrowfoot grumbled under her breath, but she knew that she couldn’t stop her sister doing this. She’d just be here again the next night if she tried. She sighed slightly, rolled her eyes, then waited for her sister to continue.
"You know how much Heronstar hates clans having the same name as individual cats?”
"Yeah, there was this one time when Harrierpelt was talking about his old cl-"
"Stories tend to stop being interesting by the fifth time you hear them.” Elmfang interrupted. “There’s a new molly around. Gustclaw-" Sparrowfoot couldn’t help hissing, and loudly. Elmfang didn’t seem surprised to have to stop for a moment. “from Vixenclan. And I think you noticed the similarity. Gustclaw, Gustclan. One sound different.”
"But surely no leader would allow that? That’s supremely arrogant.”
"And that’s your reaction. Imagine how Heronstar would react. You can’t let her.”
"What happens if she does?”
"The storm a few moons ago was an omen of her rage.” Sparrowfoot gulped slightly. “At least, I think.” That boded a little better. “I’m not involved in every decision.” Elmfang shrugged, which looked especially strange on the shoulders of a kit barely old enough to stand – Sparrowfoot had noticed how her sister had aged just slightly more than she should have done in Starclan, and then stayed there. Like the very fabric of the forest Starclan claimed knew that to be forever weak-limbed, closed-eye and closed-ear was a horrendous notion. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if it were proportional. If Heronstar finds out, the best case is Gustclan changing its name to something so obscure, no cat would follow, and steadily increasing isolationism. The worst is that she makes sure that no one rises to such arrogance again. I think.” Sparrowfoot gave a bigger gulping noise, even if the last validation detracted slightly from the communication of threat level.
"So… what do I do?”
"Say you saw an omen of something… I don’t know, Betonycloud said to be cryptic, but just talking to you seemed a lot more helpful. Cryptic is useless unless I want you to mess up, and I really don’t. I don’t know! Just… anything that will stop her.”
Sparrowfoot stared at her sister, eyes wide, realising how much responsibility was seeming to be placed on her.
And she huffed. Of course her sister didn’t have a plan.
"I’ll try. I can’t promise I’ll manage, but I can promise I’ll try.”
"It’d better be a good try. Failure won’t go well.” Elmfang slowly sagged under the weight of her worry for a second, before shaking herself slightly and springing back into the mode of a young kit again. “You’d best be up to get back on with your duties for the day. You should have enough time to start thinking up excuses.” Elmfang twisted her head slightly. Then shrugged slightly, took a deep breath in, and blew, blowing the swirling grey woodland away and out of Sparrowfoot’s sight…
Sparrowfoot’s eyes opened slowly. All the other warriors were already up and about. She groaned at her sister’s timing before righting herself from her position on her back and running out to start her duties for the day.