[if the answer isn't clear enough, mods can dm me to ask how this story relates to pixel cat's end ]
if you would like to leave comments or questions on this story, please dm me or leave a comment on my page!
cw as this series will vaguely touch topics of death

It's said that even after a physical body dies, a being is not truly dead so long as the concept of them lives on.
This was true, but somewhat disappointing, for Briarfoot.
Briarfoot had lived on in StarClan for a long, long time. Much longer now than she had even been alive in the forest, in that other world, in "reality".

...Truthfully, she no longer even felt like a cat. Not when she had been disconnected from living cats this long. They felt... distant, off.
Or maybe it was her that was off.
It was often that she would get lost in daydreams, thinking up scenarios, imagining worlds.

Her friend, Haretrail, loyal as ever, would always engage in creating these stories with her.
They spun many tales together, day after day, but it still felt... dull. It wasn't tangible, wasn't real enough.

Briarfoot asked absent-mindedly, prodding her meal with a paw.


The white cat commented, ignoring her question.

They seemed to be busy sorting some kind of seeds and berries.
...They missed being alive too, she could tell. She could see it in the way they got fired up when they thought someone might be hurt, or how they collected herbs they didn't even need here, or how they would tell her about the many plants they knew of and their uses.
Haretrail was a medicine cat in life, and a good one. Their life was taken much too early, in an accident.


Their question shook her from her thoughts.

Briarfoot sighed.

How do I explain this...?
Briarfoot was quiet for a moment, organizing her thoughts.


The words just... kept pouring out.


Haretrail stared at her, their head cocked to the side.
Did I say too much?
The two cats sat in silence, side by side.
Finally, they spoke.


Briarfoot's eyes widened, stunned.




...It may have been a bit ambitious, but it was a fine idea.
Briarfoot nodded slowly as she tossed the idea back and forth in her mind.


...From there, "DeadClan" was born.

Allegiances
Leader: Briarstar - Thick-furred red tabby she-cat
Deputy: Sandclaw - Stocky ginger tabby tom
Medicine Cat: Haretrail - White cat with a grey tabby tail and ears
Warriors:
Gorsetuft - Ginger tom with broken tabby stripes
Flamelight - White cat with an orange tabby face, legs, and tail
Perchspot - Red tabby cat
Larkpuddle - Grey, cream, and white tortoiseshell tabby tom

Larkpuddle awoke, bouncing out of his nest with a purr.
He was the newest addition to DeadClan, and as such he didn't have the same sort of closeness as the others, but even just the thought of being in a Clan again sent a shiver of excitement through his fur.
In the clearing, Sandclaw, DeadClan's deputy, was organizing patrols. Despite so few cats being gathered before them, the orange tabby tom did their job deligently, their ears pricked forward in focus.
Larkpuddle shook out his stormy tortoiseshell-and-white fur as he pushed through the sedge safety of the den to join the gathered cats.




They waved their tail towards the two cats with a nod.


Flamelight cheerily greeted him, their eyes bright.
Larkpuddle twitched his whiskers happily. They had only met a little while ago, but he liked Flamelight's company. They were a short, playful cat that seemed to get along with everyone.
Perchspot wasn't a bad choice either. They were dependable, and he felt safe with the quick, muscular cat.


Larkpuddle ran to catch up as the patrol headed out of camp.
DeadClan's camp was still a work in progress, but he found himself once again quietly surprised by how much it already resembled a "real" Clan camp.
The cats had settled in a bit of a marshy area, so he worried a bit about flooding, but at least no other StarClan cats would intrude on them here. Nobody really liked the soft underfoot or the croaking of frogs, so nobody came here.
The camp was cool and shaded, with willow trees drooping all over the clearing.
The dens were somewhat small for now, but that's all they needed to be.
DeadClan only had a pawful of warriors, and there was nothing better than falling asleep surrounded by the warmth of Clanmates.

A sharp nudge and whisper from Flamelight shook him from his thoughts. Larkpuddle sloppily dropped into a crouch, sniffing the air.
Sure enough, just ahead of him, round brown ears poked out from above the grass.
The rabbits here were a bit different from what he was used to, with smaller ears and swimming skills.
He'd never thought about rabbits as swimmers, but these ones could.

Following the others' direction, the three cats fanned out around the clueless bunny, silently cutting off every escape route before closing in.

Just as he slid his paws into position, Flamelight leaped forward, running the rabbit straight for Perchspot. The big tabby reared onto their hind legs, causing the rabbit to turn and crash right into Larkpuddle's claws.
He dispatched it with a quick bite, murmuring thanks to the power of StarClan's hunting grounds.




Perchspot nodded to him.


Flamelight butted his shoulder playfully.




Larkpuddle purred.
After lightly burying his catch to come back for it later, he fell into step with Flamelight.
He felt a tingle of surprise as he noticed their sudden far-away look.


Flamelight shook out their fur.


Larkpuddle cocked his head suspiciously.


Larkpuddle shrugged. He didn't think about his much. He didn't remember it hurting.
He'd drowned.
He was somewhere he shouldn't have been, thinking the ice was solid and safe to play on.
The cold sent him into shock immediately, so it was just a blur from then to StarClan from there.


Flamelight's ears twitched, and they were quiet for a bit.


They took a breath, then continued.


It shook him a bit, seeing such a shift in the usually-cheerful cat's personality. This felt like very private information, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. Flamelight must have taken notice, as they awkwardly waved their paw around as if to air away the dreary mood.


Before he could say anything, the white and ginger cat picked up their pace and left him behind.

Larkpuddle sighed a little.
I wish I could help them...
They all had stories that ended tragically, that's why they were StarClan cats, but...


His head jerked up at the sound, and he rushed ahead to catch up.


He pulled up short, his breath escaping him.
In front of them was a small, fluffy cat, their fur sticking out in every direction. They looked up at them with wide eyes.
Flamelight was already all over them, showering them with affectionate worries.
They were a mostly white tortie, barely any bigger than a kit, if they weren't one still.


Their voice was gentle, almost motherly.


The kit let out a wail.


Flamelight whispered softly, an edge of horror to their mew.
The little cat didn't respond this time, only letting out a whimper and burying their nose into Flamelight's fur.

Larkpuddle lowered his voice as he turned to Perchspot, who was watching with a similarly anxious expression.


Perchspot shook their head as they murmured.




Perchspot nodded thoughtfully.
They paced forward, touching the kit's shoulder with a hesitant paw.


The little cat gazed up at them, their eyes dull with dizzy panic.

Briarstar had easily accepted Leapkit into the Clan, especially after Flamelight offered to parent them.
Haretrail knew there was no chance of Briarstar actually rejecting the kit, but she always put a stern face on when acting as leader in their makeshift Clan.

Haretrail chuckled a little to themself as they watched the bustling clearing. It was early morning, and a drop of dew dripped onto their nose, making them squeeze their eyes shut and shake their head.


Blinking their eyes open, Haretrail looked up to see the orange-and-white tabby tom.




Haretrail twitched their whiskers in amusement. It wasn't like there was an actual rush to do things.
Gorsetuft just enjoyed poking fun at them, they noticed.


Gorsetuft immediately dropped his gaze, eyes narrowed as he searched for an excuse.


Haretrail leaned forward, interested in his response.
Disappointingly, Gorsetuft was saved from his embarrassment by another cat wandering up shyly, his eyes dark with worry. Haretrail could already tell he was dancing around something serious.


Gorsetuft immediately jumped up, his ears flicking with relief.


Haretrail nodded, leading Larkpuddle into their den and settling into a nice dip in the ground. Their den was in a very shady spot, and the dirt was moist and cool.


They tipped their head to the side curiously.


The tortoiseshell-and-white tom sighed.


Haretrail opened their jaws to respond, but Larkpuddle continued.




Haretrail shrugged. They thought it must have just been some mistake. Surely everything was fine.
However, Larkpuddle's eyes seemed to grow pleading.




Haretrail looked away.
Quietly, they found it funny that Larkpuddle would come to them instead of the leader at all. Was it because they were a medicine cat? Did he forget that they all have the same connection to StarClan now, and their advice wasn't special anymore?
Larkpuddle nodded, rising to his feet.


Haretrail watched him go.
What if something is wrong?
Haretrail shook out their fur. They were dead now, they shouldn't have to worry about problems. That's how StarClan was advertised, wasn't it? A place where you don't have to worry anymore?
An image of Leapkit being all alone when they died and wandered towards StarClan floated into their mind, and Haretrail suddenly sunk into guilt.
Larkpuddle's right. It wouldn't hurt to check, would it...?
With that in mind, they rose to follow Larkpuddle to find Briarstar.

After Haretrail and Larkpuddle came to speak with her, Briarstar led a small group into the main part of StarClan's hunting grounds to ask them if everything was okay.
They were referred to check in on the living cats, and what Briarstar and the others found upon visiting the living world was a disaster - a devastating sickness had spread, and there were so many dying cats that it was impossible to lead each one to StarClan properly.
This didn't seem like something that would end easily or soon, so the DeadClan cats made quick work to expand their makeshift camp and have extra patrols keeping an eye out for more lost deceased.

Briarstar sighed. The past few days had been so dreary with this heavy news.

She watched the camp through slitted, exhausted eyes, her long tabby fur clumped and matted. Perchspot, her mate, washed behind her ears with rough, rhythmic licks, untangling the burrs in her pelt.
Briarstar sighed out a purr. At least with them, she could forget the worst of it.

She watched Leapkit playing with a moss ball in the clearing, their tortoiseshell tail sticking straight up. StarClan kits usually wouldn't grow up, but they were about the size of a new apprentice, and maybe appointing them would make things feel more normal...
I'll have to talk to them later.

Briarstar had thought the conversation with Leapkit would be simple, but the answer she'd gotten was unexpected.
They told her they don't want to be an apprentice.
They wanted to be with StarClan. Not in this part of it, but with every other cat. They wanted to move on from Clan life.
She couldn't understand it, but she let it go.
If that's what they wanted, that's fine.
Flamelight was sad to see them go, but walked them there.

Morbidly, Briarstar thought, it might not be long until she has another kit or two to care for, anyway, with the rate of the sickness below.
The sickness.
They didn't even have a proper name for it. It was something the Clans weren't used to, had clearly never dealt with before, this kind of sick.
Haretrail seemed stuck between apathy and upset that they might have been able to help, being a medicine cat, but even they were clueless as to what to do.
The two of them spent a lot of time sulking together as friends do, so much that they didn't really notice the Clan changing and growing around them. There were many new faces, but knowing they were new and died recently because of something so tragic hurt too much to face right now.

Today, one of Briarstar's many depression naps was interrupted.


Briarstar was about to tell them to go away, when a scent hit her nose. It was milky, and new.
With a grumble, she rolled over in her nest, squinting her eyes against the sunlight.
She stared, making out three little shapes around Perchspot as her eyes adjusted to the brightness.


Two fluffy ginger tabbies and a tiny cream tabby tom.


Briarstar leaned forward to sniff them, confused.


Briarstar huffed.


Briarstar knew that her mate was trying to drag her out to make her feel better, and she wasn't against entertaining them for that.

The kits had to be carried, either holding onto the bigger cats' neck fur or being carried by the mouth, they were too little for their legs to bear much weight.
Briarstar tried not to let dark thoughts about the timing of an entire litter coming here get to her.
Instead, as she looked at them, she thought about how much they looked like her and Perchspot.
She wondered if this was a taste of what it would have been like to have had a family with them.
It wasn't that she was ever against carrying kits, but she wasn't sure she could have. Her body may not have been made that way.
It was just one of the many things she'd felt had been left unfinished. Not becoming deputy or leader in life, not starting a family, not becoming anything too great.

It felt like there was always a lot of pressure in life, to start a family, and she had always felt broken for not being capable to start one.
She related a lot with Flamelight, she realized - And she felt a pang of guilt for leaving her so alone these past few moons with whatever new kits came around.

She sighed. At least she could help out more now... and perhaps she could play pretend with Perchspot, and call these kits her own for a while.

Briarstar let out a tired purr as she leaned on Perchspot, feeling the warmth of their fur around her.