Greypaw's Moonstone Journey

Weariness flooded the medicine cat's body as she gathered the prepared herb bundle. Her tail drooped, her ears low against her bowed head. So much had been happening lately; it was nothing but chaos and commotion. Would RiverClan ever get a moment of peace again?

The last thing she wanted right now was to make the trek all the way to Highstones, but she couldn't let the apprentices spend the rest of their days waiting on her. Ducking into their den, Cloverheart found the tom she was looking for and gave him a gentle prod. He was big for an apprentice, and no doubt ready to become a warrior. Or... well, Greypaw had never seemed too enthusiastic. Maybe he wouldn't mind waiting. Setting down one set of herbs, she murmured, "Hey there. It's time for your trip to the Moonstone, Greypaw; I'll be right outside for you." before backing away.

Greypaw opened his eyes, blinking blearily as he was awoken by a prod to his side. His sleep had been dreamless, for once. For a moment he couldn't process what was being spoken to him beyond the haze of sleep, but after standing, stretching, and shaking himself out a bit, he realized it was the Medicine cat talking to him, not his teach'.

She left the apprentice den right after saying her piece though. She sounded as tired as he always felt, and he had always noticed that she seemed like she was constantly about to collapse where she stood. He had been concerned about her for a while, actually.

This is exactly what he meant when he said his clan was high-strung. And if the clan is high strung, then medicine cats were always doubly so. It wasn't good, it wasn't logical, if the medicine cats can't take care of themselves, or didn't have time to, it would risk them one day simply not waking up. There would go an important resource for a clan.

Frowning, the tom lapped at his ruffled pelt half-heartedly, mostly just trying to get rid of tangles, not trying to make it look neat. When he was finished he grabbed the bundle of herbs, walked outside and up to Cloverheart. Lowering the bundle for a moment, he looked at her worriedly. "Hey, Cloverheart, are you ok?... When was the last time you slept?" His tail twitched in concern. "I know the clan has been ridiculously high-strung lately, but have you been taking any time to care for yourself?" He meowed softly. He faintly remembered Cloverheart moons ago, she had been more energetic, or at the very least well-slept.

Did she ever have a medicine apprentice...? He had, admittedly been distracted by... well, everything, Dewlight was stressed, the leader had suddenly gone off and died on them, and leafbare was fast approaching. They were in bad, bad shape.

Still, he had made sure that he himself got at least the bare minimum of sleep and some good sessions of relaxation time. His greatest tool was his mind, and his mind was definitely going to have to be kept sharp in the upcoming season.

Greypaw honestly wanted to tell her that he could wait a bit longer, but the clan desperately needed warriors. This was one of his last steps to becoming one... but someone needed to take care of the medicine cat as well if she wasn't going to take care of herself.

The tom gave her a worried once-over, if they lost their medicine cat during leafbare then they would be in big trouble... Greypaw may be more on the lazy side, but he knew that if something needed to be done, it needed to be done. Letting out a sigh the oversized apprentice muttered a single "Troublesome..." A frown quirked his mouth.

This clan was a mess, hopefully, Jaystar would actually be able to keep it alive...  the tom had ambition, yes, but it needed to be tampered with logic, or else he'd simply run this dying beast into its early grave. Well... he could only hope...

It wasn't long before Greypaw emerged from the den, choosing to set down his herbs instead of taking them straight away. The motion made the medicine cat's ear twitch, but her entire body seemed to lower when he spoke up. "Me?" Cloverheart rasped, a dismissive chuckle chasing the words.

Flicking a tail towards his herbs, she mewed with as much firmness as she could muster, "Eat those. We have a long trip." Without waiting to see if he did, the little cat pushed forward to stand. Two steps at a time, she was slowly making her way towards the tangle of reeds exiting camp.

"I'm... fine." Cloverheart answered distantly as she made her little journey across camp. "Really, Greypaw! You shouldn't be worrying about your medicine cat. If anyone knows how to take care of someone, it's me. I'm fine!"

Almost on cue, her stomach rumbled. Her thin tail swept up to her side, and she snorted, letting her pale gaze linger on her charge for the night before lowering to her paws. "Really, Greypaw. It's my place to worry about all of you, not the other way around." A pause to breathe, then, "We don't have all night, yeah? Let's get moving." There was a light purr to the words, and she gave the herbs another beckoning nod before ducking out into the territory.

It felt cooler out here, somehow; simultaneously oppressive and yet open, frigid. Cloverheart shuddered against the nightly chill of leaf-fall, shuffling her weight between paws as she waited for Greypaw to follow her out. The walk would keep them warm, but...

Highstones were so far. And she had already been dreading tonight's journey, but if the apprentice planned on asking after her health– which was treacherous, even if she loathed to admit it –this would prove to be an incredibly long night for her.

She insisted she was ok even though she very obviously was not. What was with cats lying to others pointlessly about their well-being? What did she assume he'd do if she told him the truth? Think less of her just because she was also a cat who sometimes hit rough patches? Did he think she had to be perfect in all ways possible?

He ait the herbs quickly with a slight grimace, and trotted up to her side. Hearing the grumble of her stomach following her statement of being 'fine', he rose a brow. "You realize it's not illegal to be not fine, right? Look, I get you're the medicine cat, but to do your job you have to keep yourself healthy as well. If you don't you might one day just up and collapse from stress when someone else needs your help." He tried to reason. "The same goes for being a warrior, a leader, a deputy. Self-care is important to keep the clan from falling apart, ya know?" He let out a sigh.

Sometimes Greypaw wished he could understand what went on in other cats' heads, maybe then everything would be less troublesome.

After his statement, there was a period of silence as he padded beside the haggard-looking molly. He broke it though after finally deciding on something. "Every cat needs some sort of support, it seems, doesn't matter what your job is in the clan." His tail swished, "Since obviously you don't seem to have one, or, if you do, they're doing a pretty bad job, how about this?" He glanced over, his silvery eyes dancing with both mischief and warmth. "When I become a warrior, I'll be your support. You can come to me to vent, or if your having a busy day I'll bring you some food; and if you don't take care of yourself, I'll keep badgering you until you do." His tail curled slightly with amusement at the thought. "That way you can take care of others without running headlong into a burnout, and since I am under the label of 'others' as well, we'd just be helping each other out."

He paused, shaking out one paw that had begun to tingle from the chill of the wind. As Riverclan's camp continued drifting out of sight, hidden by the foliage of the territory, he glanced towards the blurred distance where highstones supposedly was. "Ya know, sometimes it seems that not many cats understand just how hard being a medicine cat would be. There's a reason I didn't choose the job though." He huffed, "I mean, even just being an apprentice was an uphill battle for me..." His gaze grew a bit distant, "Despite that though, I still kinda made sure I was... aware, even if I wasn't a medicine cat. One of my littermates wanted to be one, ya know? He was determined, saying he wanted to help others."

The apprentice's tail drifted lower, "I remember asking him, 'but who would help you then?'" Greypaw let out a light snort of amusement, "You know what his response was? He said I would take care of him. Even though I was the laziest furball around." The tom's gaze lowered to the ground, "I wonder if he and my sister are doing well up in starclan. I mean... at least they have our parents with them, so they're probably managing better than I am." He answered his own question, tone slightly sardonic as he forcefully cast away the depressing feeling that had fallen over him. He had to move one, really, it probably wasn't healthy to keep clinging to such negitivity.

His tail swished, a few lives lifting as the furry plume of fur passed over them. "I don't mind if we have to take breaks by the way. Honestly, I despise walking long distances, which I why the longest distance I've walked is to the forutrees for a gathering.'" He quirked a brow, "But... how about before we leave Riverclan territory I catch you a meal? sounds like those herbs aren't doing much after all." He spoke, tone light with mirth.

Cloverheart's ear flicked at the notion that the rest of the Clan didn't support her– there were cats like Turtlefur, that she knew she could go to whenever she needed. But even knowing that... she never did. It was hard to convince herself her troubles were worth much when the cats she could confide in were the same ones she was pushing in and out of her den. With their visible wounds, it didn't feel like the fog in her mind mattered nearly as much. Even if Greypaw hadn't been a frequent visitor, one day he would be; and no matter what they agreed to here, she would still worry too much about his wellbeing. Still, the medicine cat snorted an acknowledgement.

"I'll be watching out for your ceremony then," she responded lightly, pushing herself through a particular soggy patch. She would have had more to say, but it seemed like Greypaw had the same idea. The molly's ear twitched again, pale gaze sliding over to the apprentice as he began to open up about his family. Distantly, Cloverheart wondered where both of them would be if his littermates had survived. Would she have Greypaw's brother as an apprentice by now? Or would she even have become a medicine cat at all? And Greypaw, even if taking things slow was in his nature... if his family had been around, would he have been a bit more driven? The questions lingered, but she kept them to herself. They were hypotheticals, anyway; it wasn't like he would be able to answer them, not really. "I'm sure they're watching over you, Greypaw. Maybe you'll even see one of them tonight," Cloverheart offered, softly tapping her tail against his shoulder.

She had never lost a family member, but there were holes in her life she knew certain cats were meant to fill. It hurt just the same, blood relation or not. Every trip to the Moonstone made her almost eager, wondering if she would see one cat in particular... but she wasn't even sure who 'that one cat' was. Whiskers twitching with thought, the medicine cat pushed forward, even when Greypaw's steps seemed to slow.

"I wish we could, but you're not supposed to eat before speaking with StarClan," Cloverheart hummed, keeping her attention dutifully forward. She could feel the ground growing firmer underpaw; Highstones wouldn't be much farther now. The hazy shape of the stones was becoming something more solid; the rumble of the Gorge was finally echoing in her ears. Her stomach rumbled again in protest, and she shook herself out with a huff. She didn't want to stop, either; hungry, sore, whatever it was, she wanted to push through to Highstones. The sooner they did that, the sooner they would be back in camp, and she could stop worrying about something happening while she was away. Tail waving sharply, she mewed, "I promise, I'll let you do all the hunting you want on your way back, though. You can catch us every piece of prey we come across, but let's go meet our ancestors first?"

It seemed the medicine cat was unconvinced, still, that didn't make Greypaw any less inclined to do exactly what he said. She obviously thought that self-care wasn't as important as he said it was, so he'd just care for her. The molly didn't deserve to just be left to waste away after all she's done.

Her comment about the possibility of him seeing his family made him smile a bit ruefully. "Yeah...maybe."

When she mentioned not being allowed to eat before seeing starclan, he furrowed his brow. "Why not? Does it make you feel sick afterwards, throw it all up? Seems like a weird custom, going hungry for no reason doesn't make sense." He huffed. What, did starclan think eating was disrespectful? He knew they were ghosts and didn't need to eat but that shouldn't have to extend to their very mortal descendants who had to eat to survive.

Greypaw hoped his ghostly ancestors were more sensical and nice than they seemed to daily portray themselves to be. He had to wonder why they still bothered to kick around, seeing as how Starclan was just retirement from life. Why not kick back? Relax a bit? Let their descendants handle whatever matters they left in the mortal coil?

Who would want to keep working after death?

Why couldn't life be more logical... it was so troublesome.

Glancing up as the high stones drew near, he let out a big sigh, then yawned grandly. Shaking out a damp paw, he frowned at the ground. Clans were so convoluted, how did leaders and deputies deal with all this nonsense? How were they all still sane in light of everything?

Man, he wished things could just be... simple.

At his prodding, Cloverheart shrugged, shaking out her fur. "I... don't know, honestly. It's just tradition; you aren't supposed to greet the dead with a full belly, I guess." She gave the apprentice a sidelong look, wondering if he would have any more questions for her. When Greypaw offered up nothing else, the medicine cat stayed silent in turn, not entirely interested in pushing any of the subjects broached tonight. Besides, the ground underpaw was growing rocky; it would be easier to focus on guiding him through his journey to consult with the stars.

"Careful here," Cloverheart mumbled, hauling herself up a pile of stones. The ground was sloping upward, the rocks getting sharper and yet sturdier, safer at the same time. "You don't want to slip and go rolling all the down Highstones." She laughed, hopping up to perch on another ledge with a small grimace. it felt like this trek would never be easy for her again, no matter how many times she made it; the long walk, the haul upwards, it would always leave her exhausted and miserable for days following, but she didn't really have time to complain about it once she was already there. All she could do was grit her teeth and push forward to the top.

As the ground leveled out under them and Mothermouth yawned wide in front of them, Cloverheart turned to give Greypaw a quick nod. "Your ancestors are waiting for you down there," she explained steadily, drifting closer to the cavern's looming entrance. "It's dark in the tunnel, and easy to lose your footing. Just stay close to me, and we'll find the Moonstone soon enough." With that and a beckoning nod, she descended into the darkness. Her paws went without thinking, settling into the grooves left by generations of cats before her, the path to StarClan hardly a thought to her. It was mere muscle memory, and it felt like their passage through the tunnel only lasted a few heartbeats before the stone's glittering surface came into view.

Circling near to it, Cloverheart whisked her tail towards the Moonstone. "Here we are, Greypaw. Pretty, huh? Go ahead and lay down next to it. When you touch your nose to it, you'll fall asleep, and wake up in StarClan. I'm sure whoever comes to see you will be nice." She waited a beat, taking the moment of quiet to curl up beside it herself. "Enjoy your dream. I'll be right here when you wake up."

He followed the tired medicine cat up to Mothermouth, the oddly-named cave that led to the magical sparkly stone of power. That simple thought process always threw the tom for a loop, where had this magic come from? How did it work? Why didn't Starclan just use dreams to communicate? Why did their descendants have to go through all this trouble just to meet them? Did dying just ultimately make you superior to everyone around you? Did that give you the right to poke around in mortal's lives? Why would you bother poking into their lives if you were superior to them? Why all this fanfare for what was essentially just dead cats? Why couldn't these meetings be more casual? Why, for silverpelt's sake, couldn't they eat beforehand?

All the questions rapid-firing through his head made him a bit dizzy, or maybe that was just because his blood pressure had to work much harder because of how high up they were getting. Who knew, but it made him stumble a few times and collide into Mothermouth's cave walls more than he should've.

Still, he somehow made it to the sparkly, glitter stone of magic, which immediately blinded him, making him close his eyes and cringe back as a headache began pounding away in his skull. Oh, starclan... if he ever had to go to this eye-searing stone again he was definitely going to eat beforehand, unless they gave him a very good reason for why he shouldn't.

Curse tradition.

Somehow he did register the medicine cat's words enough to follow her lead, keeping his eyes squinted as he crept forward, before finally curling up and placing his nose on the headache stone of power.

Of course, he immediately fell into the dream, because dead cat magic.

There was a particular peace in death, one that had sated the things he had craved for so long. Dartfoot was here, as were many other cats whose lives had been lost along the way. Carpsplash had been greeted by the warmth and love of a lifetime. Although being in the forest so long had caused his joints to ache and his demeanor to become soured, now, Carpsplash bore resemblance to his younger self. He stood higher than he had in moons and looked like a lean and strong warrior as a stark contrast to the grey-tinged bag of bones he had become in old age. It was incredible to finally sit tranquility among the stars.

A familiar face had come for a visit it seemed. Carpsplash was overjoyed to hear that Greypaw would be visiting. His pelt had far outgrown the apprentice's den and it was time that he became a fully-fledged Riverclan warrior - it seemed that moment was now just over the horizon. The tail-less warrior remembered him fondly. A faint smile flickered across his formerly grizzled maw. It wouldn't be surprising if it took Greypaw a moment to recognize him, given the changes, but he was still the same, old and gruff tom that he'd always been.

"Took you long enough to haul yourself over here, kit. It was bound to happen eventually. Good to see ya."

Despite all his whining before, he had to admit the magical dead cat place looked pretty cool. He wouldn't mind just flopping down here and stargazing for the rest of his mortal life... oh the naps he could have.

His gazings at the weird liminal space between the abyss of permanent death and mortality were quickly distracted by a voice calling out to him. Rounded ivory ears perking, Greypaw's eyes quickly snapped over to the slightly-ghostly figure of a cat, one whose pelt was vaguely familiar.

He tilted his head, indeed taking a few moments to critically examine the feline and scan his memory. Eventually, a warm smile curled up his muzzle and he walked over, purring.

"Carpsplash." He spoke, he wanted to rub up against him in greeting but he honestly wasn't sure if that would end with him awkwardly phasing through the cat, which would be weird and probably completely shatter his logical mind. "God to see you, even if I am still salty that you died days before I became an apprentice." He rose a brow at that. Nostalgia had hit him, and he was feeling a bit depressed at the memory of that ever so familiar state Carpsplash's corpse had been in, the time he had spent refusing to move from his side for anything other than basic necessities. "I mean, I can see that this place would be amazing for napping as long as you want, very tempting for even me, but you couldn't have wanted a bit longer to die?"

Of course, there was humour sparkling in the young tom's eyes and a cheeky smile playing on his lips as he said all this, even if it did hold a nugget of truth in it. After a moment the smile relaxed and he glanced around, "As for taking a while to get here, I blame that cursed river and how high-strung the clan became." the drawled, "I mean, have you seen Cloverheart? She's being worked straight to the grave!" He shook his head, only thinly veiling the concern behind his words.

Huffing in disbelief, he sat down, yawning, then glanced around again. "So... is there anything specific that we talk about here? Or can I badger you with my theories on how to make cats fly again without consequence?"

Sure, there were probably more important things to talk about rather than flying cats, but all those important things were things the lazy ball of fur didn't want to touch with even a long stick. Besides, he did have more theories about how to make cats fly, and he had no one to share them with these days. It was a crime, really, being either too busy or too exhausted to spend hours at a time just talking with the elders. He had felt the effect of being cut off from his main source of cat-to-cat interaction very heavily these days.

Perhaps, though, if they had time, he could touch a few more important subjects with the once-elder... it'd probably be good to bounce some of his ever-spinning, complex thoughts off another cat who actually had the experience to give suggestions and feedback for them.