Let us Build the Future Together {OPEN - WC CLAN MEETING}

She had kept her gaze turned pointedly away from her father, but when her brother spoke up and voiced his desires to learn too, Goldenpaw cast her eyes towards him. Hoping he noticed and understood as she nodded her agreement, she kept her head turned the other way. Grovekit was settled comfortably on her back, and she listened as Aspenpaw spoke up again. Ears tilted towards him, eyes gleaming with excitement, it was suddenly struck through again at the news that apprentice's would not be allowed to journey with them. She blinked in disappointment and anger before her shoulders slumped slightly, head bowing towards the ground in acceptance. She dared not speak out again, and risk the disapproval of her mentor and father again. If they were allowed to go now, it would save time for being able to help later. But who cared what a simple apprentice had to say. Her paw batted at a small beetle that had crossed in front of her dejectedly. Her whiskers twitched as Barleytuft stepped forward to volunteer, and her paw sat still. After what he had said, he was now going to volunteer to go along? She let out a swift huff, her breath passing through her teeth in the almost silent noise of discontent.

Grousefrost's voice broke the silence first, and Finchstar watched with interest, always surprised at the intellect that dwelled in his friends. Brindlestar's son was smart, tactful, and his suggestion was one as glorious as the orange sun. He was right with many things, and as he voiced his love for Brookclover, Finchstar sniffed. The leader's goal had always been peace. To put an end to the fighting and the unnecessary deaths. But perhaps it was naïve of him to hope for such a thing. And in his stubborn optimism, he had forgotten to be logical. Finchstar could bluff and croon his way out of any situation, but Grousefrost was far more intelligent than himself, he wasn't afraid to admit it. Before he could speak, Cloverpaw piped up as well, his spirit seemingly unsullied by his father's protection. And then Barleytuft. Finchstar's confidant. The words that spilled from his maw were wise, seasoned in their nature. And he took the hit, agreeing to Grousefrost's proposition, as much as it must hurt. Finchstar gave his friend a nod, watching his dark eyes, hoping to find his drive there. It was an honorable thing.

Aspenpaw next, and his ideas were just as brilliant. Finchstar's former apprentice was a stark figure in the haze, a sense of calm in the confusion. And he offered to consult with StarClan, to use his powers as their spiritual messenger. A smile grew on the leader's maw as he saw the whole thing coming to fruition. Warriors would follow their Medicine Cat down the tunnels, to learn the ancient techniques of their ancestors. What a glorious and romantic adventure that would be. The orange sun shined on their pelts, lighting their hearts gold in the dim light. Stories would be told of these times, all in the name of peace. Elmskip volunteered first, and Finchstar was humbled. The warrior was missing a leg, but his spirit had never once faded. Cloverpaw wanted to go, and the leader admired his apprentice's courage. Barleytuft named himself afterward, a shining hero in pursuit of peace. And here they were. WindClan, dancing under the sun. Here they formed many stories and tales, pouring out their hearts for peace. For love. For adventure. "Grousefrost, Barleytuft. Your knowledge is sound. You are right, we cannot destroy the tunnels... I did not think of it before, but just as our prey lives near us, we must learn to provide for our prey, to further ensure WindClan's health." He had missed it. A flaw. Finchstar was forever grateful for those of his clanmates who did think far into the future, to protect them from his rash actions. "We will shore and stabilize the paths beneath the moor, just as you suggested Grousefrost. And I have been made aware of their fruitfulness. We must continue to grow and expand, and perhaps this land will reach a peacefulness never seen in the forest. If you truly believe the tunnels can be utilized for hunting and battling, then WindClan shall use them. Aspenpaw. You are brilliant in your ideas, and I would allow you to take some warriors to the moonstone so we can learn those long forgotten skills. Should I have them call you Aspenstar perhaps?" The leader's eyes twinkled as he gazed at the gray tabby, proud of the friends around him. "Aspenpaw will choose which warriors will accompany him, but I admire all of the courage each of you hold." A quick pause, a breath. "You knew Brookclover well Barleytuft. We all did, her presence here was impactful, and if her love was that of a grain of sand, then ours for her would be beaches. Together we will forge a new path for the future, for our families, for our friends, for Brookclover. Our ancestors wait for us as the ones before them did, let them tell stories of WindClan, of our quests beneath the ground. And let there be peace, forever and ever until our bones turn to dust. Call out if you're with me."

The path ahead was treacherous, and the path below the ground would be dark. But the cats that sat in front Finchstar now were his family, his blood. They would trek together until the end of time. Grinning wildly at the sight, Finchstar raised his head to call; "WindClan! WindClan! WindClan!"

The tide turned bewilderingly fast. Around him, other cats voiced their approval of this—this idea. Cloverpaw and Loonpaw and even a kitten spoke up in support. Grousefrost and Aspenpaw made a good argument; in different circumstances, Raventail might have been swayed by it, or, if not that, then by Goldenpaw’s wounded expression as she turned and left them for Grovekit. But this was one of the few things on which he refused to budge. He remained silent as words flew. The tunnels would stay…the tunnels had to stay, or WindClan couldn’t.

That apprentices weren’t allowed to come along brought him little comfort. Too many of the cats he cared about weren’t apprentices—Brookclover hadn’t been an apprentice! But Raventail, upon seeing such conviction and hope in Finchstar’s face, couldn’t give voice to his protests. His only argument was one of his heart, not of his head. Privately, he would never set another claw so deep in the soil, however far he needed to wander to make it so. His trust in his Clanmates didn’t extend to the moor. First, he addressed Barleytuft in a whisper: ”If you’re chosen, just—be careful, okay?” Only then did he join in the call, his voice lost beneath the others.

Aspenpaw flicked his tail teasingly at his friend and leader as he was granted permission for the journey. He looked carefully from Grousefrost to Barleytuft... to Elmskip. He couldn't surpress the smile that pressed into his cheeks. He joined in the proud chanting for his clan and approached the three toms, stumbling a little. He leaned close and regarded the three-legged one in a quiet voice. "Show them we ain't so helpless. Alright? I'm with you, brother," he whispered. He nudged the tom's shoulder with a playful chuckle and addressed the three as a group. Aspenpaw paused for a moment and watched the sun disappear from the sky. Stars appeared, one by one, and he felt overwhelming peace, almost as if the WindClanners of the past approved of their choice.

"We'll leave as soon as possible. If StarClan doesn't help us, they're nuts. Look at how we scream into the sky." The tom sighed, ducking his head to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. He felt silly for being such a softie. That was Finchstar's job, after all, he thought with a smirk. "Alright, let me get some herbs."

The lean warrior looked away from his son and instead towards his leader and friend, Finchstar. What would the tom say? Barleytuft would have understood if, as leader of WindClan, Finchstar denied him passage to see StarClan; he had at first rejected the idea his leader had put forth. Of course Aspenpaw and Grousefrost were correct and his initial reaction had been out of fear of his own heart. He recognized that now, too, and that was part of why he wanted to volunteered. He had spoken the truth: he needed to be ready if something were to happen. At night he still dreamed of trying to dig towards an unreachable goal and burying himself in the process. There had to be a better way, and surely StarClan could impart upon them the wisdom.

Much to Barleytuft's relief, though not surprising by any means, Finchstar made no mention of his warrior's earlier disapproval and spoke instead of the truths that were spoken. The leader supported his medicine cat's suggestion that they go to StarClan to learn, and he addressed each of the volunteers with the utmost trust and respect. Barleytuft felt it was unwarranted, yet still his heart sailed with pride at his leader's praise. He looked hopefully at Aspenpaw, but a nudge at his side caught his attention. Barleytuft's dark hazel eyes fixed on the green ones of his friend, Raventail, the pits dark with concern and turmoil.

The senior warrior's own gaze softened; the toms mirrored the fears of the other, but the elder knew each had made the right choice. Barleytuft's duty was to protect his Clan - to help them live freely, and give them the option not to tunnel if they so chose. If learning to shore and secure the tunnels allowed Raventail to live long and safe above the surface, it was a sacrifice worth making. Barleytuft pressed his nose to the dark tom's shoulder for a brief moment before sighing and promising quietly, "I'll be careful."

A proud caterwaul rose over the clearing, ringing in Barleytuft's ears. The pale tabby turned back to Aspenpaw, who gave his consent and instructions shortly. "We'll leave as soon as possible," the medicine cat instructed, and Barleytuft nodded, searching for his son and daughter. Cloverpaw had joined in the chant and didn't seem too upset that he wasn't going, but when Barleytuft looked for Goldenpaw he found her still sulking and avoiding his gaze in the clearing. If Aspenpaw's got some things to get together first, he thought, then perhaps I need to use that time to check on my loved ones. He would have to apologize to Graybriar, as well... Doubtless she wouldn't appreciate his impulsive - but necessary - volunteering. If he knew Goldenpaw, she might not welcome his attention right away.