Downpaw's Moonstone Journey

Another morning came and went, and Aspenheart was ready to return to the Moonstone. Wildpaw's journey had gone well, and Downpaw was the second of his "victims," so to speak. Aspenheart was sure he'd rather take his trip with Softpaw, but she wasn't ready. He wished the young tom wasn't so prickly, but there wasn't much he could do as it were. His misplaced righteousness was, if anything, quite admirable. Aspenheart struggled with their clashes. It rubbed his fur the wrong way that Barleytuft's son held to his grudge, even after moons. The medicine cat ran his tongue over his scarred muzzle. He felt a low pang in his gut, and a ball lodging itself in his throat.

He said goodbye to Morningdove as he stepped out of the den with two herb packets. Downpaw wasn't difficult to find, and Aspenheart dropped his set lightly at his paws. "Are you ready? It'll be a little strange after everything that's happened, but you ease back into it," he explained. "That was my experience, at the very least."

Oh great, he thought bitterly, looking up with a frown. "Whatever. Not sure why I need to see StarClan again. I saw them last moon! This is just a waste of time." The last part, left unsaid, rang through the clearing anyways. What if StarClan doesn't want to see us? Lapping up the herbs, the customary nose wrinkle and sour face showing up, he looked blankly at the medicine cat. "Well? Are we going or not, we haven't got all day, you know."

And out the entrance he was, shaking his pelt as he braced himself for a sprint. A frown laced his maw permanently, a memory never forgotten.

"You're not gonna slap me too, are you?" Downpaw muttered, softly yet venomously, casting a sly glance at Aspenheart as he padded ahead of him, breaking off into the sprint he'd readied himself for.

Aspenheart reeled backward in shock. Had he heard that right? He felt thorns in his chest as he tentatively followed after Downpaw, who was moving quite quickly through the territory. Perhaps he could still salvage this, or at least he could try. Aspenheart struggled, hobbling, to keep pace. "It's not just about seeing StarClan," he huffed, gritting his teeth as he tried desperately to keep his fragile composure. "It's about getting their advice... gaining wisdom and purpose... and it's a rite of passage. You're growing up, becoming a warrior, and the stars will accept you as a fully trained cat of WindClan."

He shuffled up until he was side by side with Downpaw, though if the apprentice kept at his current speed, Aspenheart would fall behind in a few moments. "Are you hoping to see anybody in particular?" he asked, his chipper facade being infected with a low, frustrated hiss.

"Why do I need cats who knew, and probably liked, cats we just fought to tell me I'm ready to become a Warrior. I already know that, I'm not stupid." Downpaw replied crossly, emerald eyes narrowed to slits. He sauntered forward keeping his pace.

Sandy pelt fluffed out, head held high, chest puffed out, he knew he was beautiful. His fur was a complex but perfect shade of ginger and brown, creating a luxious sandy-ginger color that brought out his emerald eyes. Covered in dark stripes, his single dash of white on his chest and muzzle glowed like snow, stripes spared from a thick darker-than-his-pelt stripe going down his back.

Downpaw did not need a dead cat to tell him he was ready. Downpaw did not need an apprentice whacker to tell him he was ready. He was going to be an incredible warrior, as skilled in combat as his sister was in healing.

Sparing Aspenheart a final glance, a curious smirk laced his maw, eyes flashing with fire briefly. They were going to the same place he'd hurt his sister. Maybe then the stars would decide to punish him. "Awfully curious about me. Do you want to see someone?"

Aspenheart rolled his eyes as Downpaw trotted ahead of him, resisting the urge to find a good, strong maple tree branch and chuck it at his head. He prayed for strength, for restraint, for something, and found solace only in Highstones being closer and closer every second of their agonizing walk. Downpaw's nonchalance about the occasion was jarring, but it's not like he should've expected any less.

"Medicine cats don't usually confer with StarClan when escorting an apprentice," he grumbled. "Except in extreme circumstances. I'll sleep in the cavern against the wall, and hopefully, I'll have less dreams than you."

They climbed Highstones without a word to each other, and down into the tunnels they walked in a similar fashion. The Moonstone seemed a little dull to Aspenheart today. Maybe it was just his thoroughly sour mood. As he hobbled to his place on the side of the cave, he spared one last glance at Downpaw. He felt his heart softened, crackling under the pressure of trying to force respect out of the wayward tom. It was no use; it would never be. Fine, then. "Softpaw is going to be your medicine cat one day," he said simply. "I'm a sick old tom, Downpaw. My moons are numbered. And when I'm gone, you better keep your feelings to yourself and be there for her. I don't really care how you feel about me, but I care about my apprentice. You and I both know that she will take it hard. If you can do that, I'll tell Ravenstar that you're ready."

He rested his head on his paws. "If you wind up seeing your father or mother, let them know that Softpaw's doing well."

At the mention of his sister, Downpaw whirled around with the lightning speed WindClan cats were rumored to possess and stared intently at him with unflinching emerald eyes, cold as ice towards the tom. "Well, no duh, she is training to be one, isn't she?" The tom replied dryly. Frankly, he didn't care much for the tom and never truly had, and most likely never would. He'd turned to touch his nose to the glowing stone, not at all impressed by the sight of it.

However, he stopped short as Aspenheart continued. Subconsciously, his pelt bristled up and almost involuntarily, he snarled and unsheathed his claws will a sharp click on the stone flooring."Are you mouse-brained?"

He was offended, insulted, and enraged. How dare this insolent tom try to tell me to comfort my own sister, like I haven't dedicated my entire life to making her happy! With a furious, long hiss, Downpaw met Aspenheart's blue gaze with sturdy, stone hard eyes. "Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it," he laughed sourly, then suddenly went quiet, lowering his gaze to the ground.

When Downpaw looked back up at Aspenheart, a seriousness rarely shown was displayed across every feature of him, from posture, to his ears and tail, to the gaze he fixed on Aspenheart. "Look, Aspenheart, we both know I detest you. But you are my Clanmate, even if I don't like you or even tolerate you. I will always blame you for the Softy I knew as a kit disappearing forever and for my father's death. But for all the hate I have towards you, I have thrice as much and then some love for Softpaw. I don't have the foggiest clue as to why she likes you so much, but she doesn't that's what I love about her. I will never let anything hurt her."

With that, Downpaw sharply turned and rather harshly slammed his nose into the Moonstone, grumbling as he lay down and drifted off to sleep.

A pair of dark hazel eyes were the first sight to greet Downpaw, and swiftly a smattering of starlight began to materialize around the apprentice as he began to stir. A glittering moor sprawled on all sides, radiant with starlight and gently swaying grasses. It was beautiful. The tom who stood before Downpaw wasn't quite as beautiful, but he was certainly beloved; the scarred muzzle of Barleytuft was set in a wam smile, his chin raised high and scarred chest and shoulders squared as he looked expectantly at his son. There was love on his face, but there was also a glimmer of sadness in his gaze. The WindClan warrior flicked his tail in greeting and purred, "Hello, my son. It's so good to see you again." He stepped forward then, embracing Downpaw with a nuzzle. The tom was not a little kit anymore; he was full grown, and Barleytuft didn't need to stoop to embrace him. With a faint ache in his heart, he murmured, "I sent off all of your siblings when they went to their Moonstone journeys. The stars agreed I should see you on yours as well."

Barleytuft stepped back then, a solemn look growing on his face. "You didn't have a pleasant trip here, did you?" he questioned. He didn't wait for his son's answer; he was a StarClan cat. He was well aware of how Aspenheart and Downpaw's journey had gone. The cream tabby meowed, "You made it more unpleasant than was necessary, Downpaw. I hope you realize that. I wish I could say I hadn't raised you to be such a badger, but your mother and I both gave you our stubbornness, didn't we?" He sighed. "I was a poor role model for you. I didn't always make amends as quickly as I should have. It seems you won't even try. Your relationships have suffered as a result; you have suffered as a result." Barleytuft raised his head, an intent, cold flash in his eyes. "I do not blame Aspenheart for my death. Tell me, why would you forgive an ancestor like Galestar yet forsake a medicine cat like my brother in the same moon?"

He shook his head, and to his own shock and his son's he was already beginning to fade. He had a sad look. "I... I'm so sorry, Downpaw. I hope that you can learn to understand forgiveness. I should have done more to teach it to you." The pale tom disappeared in a sorrowful wisp of light, and the apprentice was dropped back into darkness.