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Stonefur’s muscles burn.
Endurance is a virtue, a voice reminds him.
RiverClan values endurance. Patience. The other Clans call them lazy — they are not. They are clever.
But cleverness still requires strength.
“He’s fading,” Tigerstar says. “Does he need a break?”
“He can keep going.” Leopardstar licks his cheek. “Again, Stonefur.”
He responds by repeating the drill. It’s something apprentices run, to build their muscles, and while doing it once is easy as breathing, he’s done it a leader’s worth of times, if not more.
And he’ll do it again.
Leopardstar churrs when he finishes. “That’s enough, Stonefur.” She nuzzles his cheek. “You did good.”
He’s panting, breathless, and doesn’t bother trying to speak.
“It was very impressive,” Tigerstar agrees.
Stonefur’s ear flicks. He’s not doing this for him.
He’s doing it for her. (Always for her.)
“Tigerstar, find him some prey,” Leopardstar orders. “Stonefur, you can relax when you’re ready.” She bunts against his jaw. “Don’t rush. I don’t want your muscles to seize up.” She rubs his leg with her paw. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, just…tired.”
She purrs. “You did very well, Stonefur. We can rest tomorrow.”
“We?”
She chuffs. “Fine. You can rest.”
“It’s okay, princess. I know you want an excuse to go and bask.”
His heartbeat has slowed, and he flops onto the ground, the cool rocks soothing. Leopardstar crouches over him, groooming with enough force to massage his already-aching muscles. Her touch lingers, reminding him he did this to please her. Just to please her.
In service to her, and his service is her pleasure.
“I should be alright,” he says. “Stormpaw is going with Heavystep and Dawnpaw anyway.”
“What are they doing?”
She makes small talk with him until he’s recovered enough to return to camp, but before the burn of exhaustion can set in. Tigerstar returns with a mouse, but Stonefur shakes his head.
“Once we’re in for the night.”
“But you will be eating,” Leopardstar says. “Now. Let’s get going.”
“Anything for you, princess.”
Stonefur carefully pries teeth from the pike’s jaw.
“They make good gifts,” he murmurs. “Try it out on someone you’re courting.”
“I’m not courting anyone.”
“Then save them, for when you are.”
“Are you giving yours to Leopardstar?”
Stonefur purrs. “She’d be upset if I took another mate, I think. She’s spoiled like that, about sharing.”
To Stormpaw’s ear, it’s a joke, but there’s truth to it. Stonefur belongs wholly to Leopardstar. There’s not a hair on his pelt he would give to another cat. He belongs to her wholly. There’s not a beat of his heart he’d want to give to someone else.
“Stonefur?”
He blinks. “Sorry. I was just running through some…deputy things in my head.”
“I need to know you can defend me.”
“Every time I’ve saved your back in a battle doesn’t prove it?”
“It never hurts to have a reminder.” Leopardstar licks under his jaw. “Besides. Wouldn’t it be nice to make sure the ShadowClan cats know what a skilled fighter my deputy is?”
“You want a champion,” Stonefur hums.
“Maybe we should make an event of it. Gather all the warriors, take turns fighting…we should know where everyone stands, in terms of skill.”
“Naturally. Once you lose a fight?”
“You’d be done, of course. And as motivation, the winner cuould have my favor.”
“You’ll need more for the others,” he points out.
“But not you?”
“Your favor is enough, princess.”
“I should hope so.” She runs her temple against his jaw. “I won’t make it easy, but Stonefur, I expect you to win.”
“As you wish.”
On the day they’ve set, warriors cluster around the open meadow they use to train apprentices. Only about half the warriors are participating, and the others relax in camp. Stonefur’s assigned patrols, so all he has to worry about is winning. Leopardstar’s picking fights, and she won’t play fair.
Leopardstar yowls, calling everyone to order, and then turns back to him, her whiskers twitching and her eyes shining like the sun. “I don’t want you to win. I expect it. My deputy is nothing short of perfect.”
“I won’t fail you.”
“I know.” She churrs, nuzzling his neck in a way that sends jolts down his leg. “Put on a show while you’re at it.”
“Making a lot of demands, princess.”
“Are you saying you can’t handle it?”
“I can handle whatever you ask of me.” Those are dangerous words, and they both know it.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Leopardstar purrs. “Stonefur will take the first fight,” she announces, turning away from him. “Against — oh, let’s start easy maybe—” (whispered, and Stonefur watches where the game is going.) “Heavystep, hm?”
It’s subtle. Heavystep is a decent warrior, so no one will find it suspicious. But she’s starting him with an easy fight, likely intending to save harder fights until he’s exhausted. Likely, she’ll save Blackfoot for the very end.
No easy challenges.
They wouldn’t prove very much.
Stonefur fights with strong, smooth confidence. He already knows he is going to win, and while he is artful, it isn’t flashy. It is exactly what is needed, always.
Besides.
He can’t afford to exhaust himself. Leopardstar’s been running him in fight after fight, and he barely has time to recover his breath.
Russetfur lunges for his tail, and Stonefur jerks it back. She falls on her chin, and he twists into air, pouncing to pin on her mistake.
He holds.
She taps out.
“Stonefur wins,” Leopardstar announces. She doesn’t sound like she cares, but when their eyes meet for just a moment, and her tail twists towards him, almost unconsciously. “Blackclaw and Darkstripe next,” she announces.
Stonefur doesn’t let himself sag. It would break Leopardstar’s illusion. He keeps his head high as he pads to take his place by her side, giving a few short licks to his pelt. Russetfur has landed more hits than anyone else.
“Don’t get sloppy.”
Stonefur doesn’t point out this is his first break in quite a few fights. That’s not the point.
“I enjoy watching you,” she purrs. “Don’t take that away from me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” From someone else, the endearment might come across as sarcastic, or condescending, but not from him. She’s as much a princess as RiverClan could have — Silverstream was a good challenger, but Leopardstar was first — and he trusts her with all the title implies.
It only seems fitting to call her by it.
(And it’s something only he calls her.)
The last fight of the evening is with Blackfoot. Leopardstar has not held back on difficulty: Stonefur can’t ignore the fatigue and pain, and he’s been nicked in a few places. Blackfoot is practically fresh.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Leopardstar calls.
Stonefur lifts his chin, circling Blackfoot. Most of the other warriors have left, but the ones who stay watch in breath-holding silence.
Blackfoot makes the first move.
Stonefur dodges the blow, then reaches out to strike. Blackfoot avoids it.
He can do this. Leopardstar is watching him. He can win for her.
Exhaling, Stonefur pounces again, his paws colliding with Blackfoot’s shoulder. It’s a clean hit, but Blackfoot is steady on his feet, and he only staggers, not falling.
But it’s a break.
Stonefur finds himself falling into the same calmness he fights every battle with. His focus narrows to his enemy and his partner. He can feel Leopardstar’s eyes on him, as he ducks under Blackfoot’s paw, taking an opportunity to head-butt the other deputy’s chest. Blackfoot grunts, destabilized.
“Don’t exert yourself,” Blackfoot growls, trying to compensate. “You’re panting awfully hard for the beginning of a fight.”
He’s not wrong.
The next exchange of blows is a flurry. Blackfoot wails his hind legs against Stonefur’s stomach, digging into an already painful bruise. It hurts, but Stonefur ignores it, growling and rolling with Blackfoot until the white tom is pinned to the ground.
If Blackfoot breaks out of the hold, Stonefur doesn’t know if he keep going.
There are still paws batting at him, and all of Stonefur hurts, but he wrestles against Blackfoot until his muzzle touches Blackfoot’s throat.
That’s it. That’s a victory. Stonefur hears Leopardstar call it, and steps back, suddenly aware of how he’s trembling.
“Stonefur wins,” Leopardstar announces, standing to touch noses with him. Whatever prize she offered the others, she doesn’t even mention it now.
“Congratulations.” He can feel her purr in his bones.
“The victory is yours.” Stonefur dips his head, and she licks his forehead. He’s so tired he could sink in the river, but he stays strong for her. All of his attention is directed into keeping himself upright, not listening to the concluding speech she makes.
“Come on, deputy,” she says, giving his ear a gentle nip. “Let’s get you back to camp.”
Stonefur doesn’t lean on Leopardstar, but he’s grateful that she’s standing at his side as he follows her back. The ground is a blur beneath him, and as soon as her tail taps his back, he sinks to his belly beside her.
There is an element of humility to lying at a cat’s feet. You expose softness to them, put yourself beneath them, make yourself an accessory to them.
But that’s not what Stonefur feels.
This is a place of honor. He’s fought to prove he’s earned this place, and he only rests as long as she doesn’t need him. When her tail tucks over his shoulders, he is loved.
“Tigerstar is getting you a fish,” Leopardstar says. “I think there’s a salmon on the pile.”
She doesn’t nuzzle him, but she doesn’t have to. She’s offering him his favorite fish — one she doesn’t even particularly like — and a spot at her side. It’s enough. (She’s enough.)
Stonefur wakes in the morning, his muscles aching. He’s sure he’ll feel this for days, the stiffness, the bruises, the overworked muscles.
He stands, careful not to wake Leopardstar.
This was, after all, for her. What good would he do by waking her?