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All night long, anxious thoughts nagged at his mind like a bird's beak pecking repeatedly into a hollow log. The bark of his mind splintered with each peck, cascading cracks further across his soul. They echoed. How cruel of thoughts like this to echo, to fester and feed off each other until they were that much worse in his mind, and then echo once more. It drove him to flee the warriors' den early in the morning, hopeful that a brisk walk in the late leaf-bare chill might soothe him.

It didn't. No matter how far from camp he walked, or how cold the frost was on his paws, or how raw his lungs felt breathing in the morning air, Alderbranch couldn't stop his reeling mind. He felt pathetic, dragging himself further north in the territory, toward the Stonemark. His behavior wasn't becoming of a warrior.

All this, just because Hailstar told him that soon, he'd be granted his first apprentice.

I can't do this, Alderbranch thought, running faster now. The thorns of a nearby rose bush, speckled with future blooms, tore into his side, but he hardly noticed. I'm going to fail. I've already failed.

Again and again - his thoughts spinning through his head, paired with Hailstar's words. Such a miserable way to live, burdened like this. How had he been so foolish, thinking he was getting any better? In one swift decision by his leader, a cat he trusted more than anything, Alderbranch crumbled back to his youthful self. Pathetic. Pathetic. I'm pathetic.

Stars above, why hadn't Hailstar known this decision would hurt him? Alderbranch's chest crawled with the uncomfortable notion that maybe Hailstar had known. Did he just not care? Or was he trying to teach him a lesson? It made sense. No matter how many moons passed, Hailstar would always be his mentor. Would always think he knew better.  Alderbranch ran faster at that thought, pushing himself until his lungs seized and constricted inside him.

I can't breathe, he thought, paws slamming into the ground hard enough to hurt, his bones struggling with the shock of each stride. I can't-

Ahead, the Stonemark loomed, patient and ancient and knowing. Just like that, his thoughts stilled, and Alderbranch tumbled to a stop before the carved stone. Legacy spilled across the Stonemark. MistClan's legacy. StarClan's. There was so much history before him, Alderbranch couldn't begin to figure out where to start. Could he just-

He read. The historian's scratchings were understandable to him, only because of his friendship with Ravenwhisker, and the many moons he once spent here watching his friend study the practice. Slowly, his heart settled, and the panicked thoughts that drove him so far from camp became nothing more than a dull ache in the back of his mind.

When Creeklily spoke, Alderbranch pleased himself by only startling a little. The sunlight was much brighter now - not the the early morning gray he originally ran out into. How long had he been here, reading silently, quelling his anxious thoughts? "Hi," he said, granting Creeklily a weak smile. Something still ached terribly in him, like his body was sore from his earlier sprint. "I have the morning free, actually. And the afternoon." No patrols until nightfall, something he was grateful for, now. 

"I, uh-" Creeklily didn't want to hear his woes. Alderbranch valued her friendship - hell, he fought for it, back when she was nearly expelled from their clan, and he'd fight for it again without hesitation - but could think of so few cats who would understand how his cruel mind could drive him out here when he could be better serving his clan. "I'm getting an apprentice soon," he decided to say instead. "From Hailstar's litter. I wanted to refresh myself on the Stonemark so I could answer Dewkit's questions." He tried not to look sheepish. "Apprentices always have questions, I've heard. What brought you out here?" She seemed like she was in a good mood. Alderbranch felt brighter just seeing her. "Don't tell me. You're getting an apprentice, too, and you're also embarrassingly out of date with your historian training."

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Alderbranch chuckled, hearing the persistent buzz of Hornetwing's voice as Creeklily complained about it. In retrospect, he wished he'd been on that patrol. Or any patrol, really. Finding solace in the Stonemark had been an unexpected relief from his anxious thoughts. Being forced onto a patrol would've been a more guaranteed relief, with the pressure of being surrounded by other warriors enough to right his thoughts.

Or maybe, he thought, admiring the soft lines and mottled fur of Creeklily's profile as she sat next to him, I would've lashed out at someone who didn't deserve it. The Stonemark, at least, would stay firm under any breakdown he hate. The Stonemark didn't care about him. "Soon, there'll be another one of you running around here, StarClan help us."

"Indeed," he grumbled, nauseous at the thought. Creeklily was inadvertently too close to the truth, and her words made his stomach churn. It was easy enough to distract himself, though, having already cooled his head before Creeklily showed up. Instead of his own concerns, Alderbranch frowned at his friend's disappointment.

"I wish I had the same issue as you, but I've not been approached about getting an apprentice."

Did Hailstar not trust her? Did he not trust her with his kits? Creeklily was the exact sort of cat Alderbranch thought would serve well as a mentor - better than him, definitely. He hated to think it was just her reputation that kept her unassigned. And, from the look in her eyes, Creeklily hated it, too. Alderbranch shifted closer so there was far less distance between them, pressing his shoulder against hers. "I'm sure you'll be next," he said, thinking of the many other kits that would be welcomed into MistClan once the season changed. "I'll even put in a good word for you with the big guy." He winked, hoping the gesture felt half as confident as he wanted it to.

"A lesson about the Stonemark?" He blinked. Though it was his excuse for coming out here, Alderbranch hadn't really been thinking about out. "Uh. Crap, I don't know." He laughed at himself, embarrassed, but not really. Not around Creeklily. "Hailstar made sure I understood this better than other apprentices," he continued, trailing his eyes along the stone until he landed on something interesting. "Plus, I was out here all the time with Ravenwhisker." His friend, among the few warriors that worked alongside the historian. "But, uh... Here we go." He stepped away from Creeklily's side to point out a portion of the wall that was older. The historian would have to refresh it soon.

"This talks about Russetstar's earliest days as leader. Did you know he and Birchclaw used to hate each other?" Mirth filled his voice, unable to imagine it now. Sure, the former leader and deputy bickered from time to time, as all elders did, especially ones in love with each other. But hate? "Appointing Birchclaw was meant to relieve tensions from two factions in the clan at the time. Like a peace treaty. It stopped us from going to war, or at least, so the historian who carved this speculates."

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Reciting the notes carved into the Stonemark pulled forth Alderbranch's memory of history - some lesson Hailstar gave him when he was much younger, or maybe it was his mother. Or an elder? "It wasn't a rivalry with each other," he clarified. "From what I remember, one faction of the clan wanted to expand the territory, and another had hesitations." Expand where, he wasn't sure. The border with both clans seemed so certain. It wasn't like territory disputes were a regular part of the forest, but was that because of Russetstar and Birchclaw? Had they quelled that discontent?

"As for their personal feelings..." He scanned the Stonemark again. "The historian didn't really speculate. I suppose we'd be better off asking them." He did know they oversaw MistClan for a long, long time. Longer than any other leader and deputy pair, he thought. And maybe their affection for each other was known beforehand, but it wasn't until they stepped down did they call each other mate. "Maybe he felt as though he owed Russetstar, but I think Russetstar felt the same." He followed the Stonemark a little further, until the notes trailed off. "Could you imagine a lifelong partner like that?" He thought of Ravenwhisker - not in the same way Russetstar and Birchclaw thought of each other, but at least in their friendship, nearly as old as they were.

"Ah. I'm being sentimental." He grinned, then shook out his pelt, feeling lighter as he shook out drops of mist, evidence of how long he'd been sitting out here without moving. His joints were a little stiff. "Not all of us will be so lucky." He supposed he did want it, even if the thought of connecting with someone like that made him nervous. "You didn't come out here to listen to me gossip about our elders." Thinking back, he wasn't sure Creeklily really answered his question.

He focused his attention on her now. The way her stripes crossed over her pretty, silver pelt reminded him of the Stonemark in a way. He could almost pretend her patterns told stories. It was easy, when he thought of the burdens she had to bear. Burdens he wished on no one else. "Is everything alright? Or did you really just want a lesson about the Stonemark?"

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Creeklily's stammer, though endearing, was so different from the playful way she promised his feelings would be safe that it made Alderbranch's stomach flutter with nerves. Something was wrong, wasn't it? He tried to think of all the reasons that might drive Creeklily to the Stonemark but came up blank. Had she come here in search of him specifically? That was worse, thinking of the reasons she might need him. It all pointed back to the trial.

"Do you think Hawthorntail will end up putting... my story up there?" The weight behind her question washed over him like a late green-leaf breeze. She was here for the Stonemark after all, not him. The realization came with some relief, though he was still tied to her question unlike any of their other clanmates. To answer it, Alderbranch turned back to the Stonemark, wishing his training was less rusty. If he wasn't so busy learning the tricks of weaver work, he might ask Ravenwhisker to help refresh his skills. 

"I think... it's already there," he said slowly. Silktuft's name was carved with the dead, and not far from it was a marking he thought might mean Creeklily. Not in an accusatory way, he hoped. From what he could parse, it seemed her name was only there to explain a trial occurred. "This is Nightheart's work," he continued, admiring the difference between Nightheart and Hawthorntail's scratching. Nightheart seemed more organized, but he'd also been more experienced. "I don't know what it says exactly." They would need a historian apprentice, or even Hawthorntail, to parse it out. "But it's not much."

Where was Hawthorntail, anyway? Alderbranch didn't expect him to always be at the Stonemark, but he'd been here for pretty much the whole morning without seeing the historian. "Do you want to talk to Hawthorntail?" Together, he implied. "He can tell us what it says. Maybe we can work with him to make sure the story is, y'know... truthful?" 

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Alderbranch regretted the suggestion as he watched Creeklily process it. The regret gnawed at his stomach, causing it to twist with bile and guilt. He made a bad choice, suggesting it. And now Creeklily was going to view him differently. Would she think he was untrustworthy? Or someone not looking out for her? He didn't know what to do if she stopped seeing him. He craved so much of her time — even just their occasional patrols together gave him strength he didn't think he could muster otherwise. What would he do without them?

"It wouldn't do much good if he didn't believe it himself. Historians tell the truth, and that was the truth. I was accused." He tried to calm his nerves after Creeklily spoke. She seemed less upset with him and more just... upset. He needed to listen, to really listen. As much time as he spent defending her, standing by her side, Alderbranch would still never really know what it was like to be in her paws. This couldn't be about him.

His tail lashed as Creeklily brought up Oriolemask. Though he wasn't the best at it, Alderbranch tried to ignore her whenever possible. She'd just been doing her due diligence as a warrior when she accused Creeklily, he tried to convince himself. But her repeated accusations toward Creeklily, especially involving the kits, were impossible to stomach sometimes. "Does Hailstar still even believe me? Or, I guess, you in this case?"

Creeklily's words, unexpected and yet expected all the same, settled over him like a weight he could not bear. He was right. He failed her. Let her down. Let her doubt his support. No matter how hard he tried to remind himself he couldn't make this about him, Alderbranch still felt beleaguered by the knowledge that he wasn't enough. "'Course I believe you," he said, his voice a hoarse, raspy sound, betraying more emotion than he wanted to reveal. He tried to clear his throat, but sorrow was a hard thing to shake. "That hasn't changed. That won't change. What did I do to make you doubt me?"

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All at once Alderbranch felt too far from his body and too absorbed into his mind. His thoughts spiraled. His paws shook. He couldn't stop from replaying Creeklily's doubt over and over. Do you still even believe me? Worse than that, he replayed every interaction they had in the last few moons, desperate to find something that explained where he failed. Had he taken too few patrols with her? Had he stood too close, too far? His memories revealed nothing and he was forced to assume the worst — everything he ever did was a failure to Creeklily. No part of him was reassuring. Reliable.

And still, Creeklily rested her head on his shoulder, however brief. It did not escape him that she stumbled through her reassurances. He wanted to believe she was only startled and stuttering, but the thoughts still nagged him. What if she stuttered because she didn't believe herself? The warmth of where her head rested against him ached so painfully against his treacherous thoughts that it made it impossible to speak. Instead, he did all he could do. He listened.

"I... would give talking to Hawthorntail a chance." That — that was good. That was something. That was his suggestion. Was it worth something, after all? "But, I'll only do it if you are there. I don't think I could handle it if he says no." That was even more. His throat still felt tight, but now Creeklily's words matched the warmth that lingered in his pelt from where her head had rested against him. Oh, he wished he had the strength to ask for her back. "How about you tell me another story? Being aware of some of the ancient tales might win me some favors with the historian, hmm?"

"I'm not sure Hawthorntail is the type to fall for that sort of flattery," he said, his voice reedier than he wanted it. At least the constricted feeling in his throat was fading. His paws had stopped trembling. "What story would you like? Something old? Or newer?" Except, most of the newer stories were about Wolfstar and RidgeClan's violence. Alderbranch wasn't sure he wanted to describe that. "There's an old story about a stranger who joined MistClan many, many generations ago. Fogwing, they called her. She brought medicinal practices from a far away clan. I think her story is beautiful."