Fogpaw’s Medicine Cat Ceremony

Fuzzybelly had resided in SkyClan for quite some time now. As little as it may have helped, he tried to get herbs and take care of the sick. A medicine cat’s day never ended, and sick doesn’t wait for sunrise. As the ShadowClan medicine cat, he at least was mostly nocturnal and could take care of things so the poor apprentices could sleep. Their rushed appointments after Beechfang’s murder confession really could have led to disaster, but both of them handled it with grace. Plumpaw mostly resembled his own disposition, but there was no denying Fogpaw’s expertise. The tom seemed much more confident and capable than Fuzzybelly felt at his naming. And from there, the wheel in his brain started to turn.

Being the medicine cat of another Clan, he was concerned about stepping on everyone else’s paws. Medicine cats were above Clan divisions for the good of all the Clans, and when he offered to conduct the ceremony for Fogpaw, he was worried that Briarstar would have balked at the offer. Surprisingly, both his leader and SkyClan’s leader accepted the suggestion.

“Hullo Fogpaw,” Fuzzybelly meowed. It was dawn, not a time he enjoyed being awake, but one that he would do gladly for anyone. “Could you get two travel herbs together? You and I are going to Highstones.”

He hoped that what he tried to teach them would be enough to keep SkyClan strong. It was what he hoped for all Clans. Fuzzybelly would have learned how to fish if it meant that cats were taken care of. He nodded to himself. Despite not being his formal mentor, he was proud of Fogpaw. The fluffy brown tabby tom looked at the apprentice and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. Perhaps it was his turn to formally mentor a cat. Only time and stars could tell.

“It’s yours,” Fuzzybelly meowed. He wasn’t sure if Fogpaw caught what he said, so he leaned down to the apprentice. “You’ve really done well, Fogpaw. You’ve been put in an impossible situation and yet, you’re healing your Clanmates and keeping on top of everything. Many cats would have walked out of the den by now, but not you.”

Fuzzybelly sat next to Fogpaw, his eyes even. “It took me moons to remember the basics. Seriously! I’d be up all night, grabbing random herbs and trying to name them, shuffle around, and I’d wake up the next day and not know my tail from a hole in the ground.”

“You're never done learning, Fogpaw. StarClan, herbs, things to tell your Clanmates when they’re hurting… if we waited until someone could do those things flawlessly, I’d still be Fuzzypaw.”

“It’s not like being a warrior. Sure, there are the right and wrong herbs to use at certain times… but how could you be tested on how to talk someone through grief? Who would test that, and how? With warrior life, it tends to be very black and white; you either caught the prey or not, you either won the fight or not. The life of a medicine cat is about the grey. It’s the long term, building relationships with your Clanmates, with StarClan, with your leader. And I think you have enough expertise to help SkyClan as a full medicine cat.”

Fuzzybelly’s eyes clouded briefly. “I’d be honored to be your colleague. You’ve done so well.”

He swallowed, offering a fatherly lick. “I’m proud of you. Let’s get ready to go!”

“That’s the spirit!”

Fuzzybelly swiftly grabbed herbs and swallowed his pile. The tom had eaten them so many times that it barely registered on his palate. He thought briefly about how to get to Highstones from here; it had to be pretty similar to how to get there from ShadowClan, just some extra walking.

As the duo set off on their journey, snaking by Fourtrees, Fuzzybelly looked over to his Clan’s territory.

The marsh oozed algae and slime, the entire marsh filled to the brim with terrible smelling water, the acrid tang of rot, and saturating the entire ground.

“That’s home, that’s my Clan.”

It looked terrible. Fogpaw probably thought they were RiverClanners with crowfood and carrion. “We can’t go back yet, but we will soon. There is always a way.”

From there, the process felt a lot more automatic. He knew what parts of the earth were stable enough for paw prints.

Eventually, they happened upon Mothermouth. Fuzzybelly flicked his tail as he made his way inside. The stones radiated light, almost blindingly so.

“StarClan is happy you’re here,” the tom meowed with a toothy grin.

He sat to the left, looking at Fogpaw.

“Come, it is time.”

As Fogpaw approached, it felt like the energy in the cave vibrated all the more. Fuzzybelly glanced at the walls in the cave, remembering his own ceremony.

“I, Fuzzybelly, medicine cat of ShadowClan, call upon our ancestors to look down on this apprentice, Fogpaw of SkyClan. Through his devotion through difficulty, Fogpaw has served his Clan well, and stars permitting and with their guidance, they will equip him to serve SkyClan for many moons to come.”

“Fogpaw, do you vow in front of StarClan to uphold the code and ways of a medicine cat, to heal your Clan to the best of your ability, and rise above Clan divisions and strife for the health and good of all cats, even at the risk of your own life?”

“Then, by the power vested in me by StarClan, you will be recognized as a full fledged medicine cat. From now until you meet the stars again at death, you will be Fogfeather, medicine cat of SkyClan. StarClan honors your flexibility and your sense of duty, and like feathers, may you always catch the winds and find direction, even when you may not know where your paws will lead.”

Was that a good way to have that ceremony? He wasn’t sure, he supposed he had the power to do it, which was even more bizarre to him. Fuzzybelly still felt like a kit; an overgrown, pelt untamed, giant-pawed kit.

“Fogfeather! Be received by StarClan, this is a joyous day. I will be keeping watch. Put your nose on the stone, and may stars light your path.”

Fuzzybelly contemplated whether he’d like that name or not. It was a lot of responsibility, giving a cat their final name. He was convinced Froststar must have been the king of this, Fuzzybelly never heard him complain about it. The path of a leader was winding and rocky, much like the path his own paws walked as a medicine cat. Perhaps that was why leaders and medicine cats just understood each other.

That would be a skill Fogfeather would learn in time, to counsel Briarstar. And Fuzzybelly would help in any way he could.

"Fogfeather." A voice said as the living tom appeared in the starry forest. Dovefrost stood in front of the now fully named Medicine Cat. The large white tom settled down, wrapping his feathery tail around his paws. "My son." He seemed to correct himself. While he never really got to interact with Fogfeather on that level it still didn't change the fact that the living tom was his son, a son he loved just as much as the others. "I'm so glad to see you here."

"To see you whole heartedly welcomed where I could no longer tread in the living." He remembered how cold the Moonstone was to him, how he feared his children would be rejected, but finally his heart could be at ease. His son was fully recognized by Starclan, and welcomed in the land of the stars.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't be the first one to greet you as a full medicine cat back at camp, that things had to change so suddenly, but you made it. You pushed through, and I couldn't be more proud of you, and I'm sure Beechfang feels the same way." Dovefrost said. He wasn't ever good with words, and he hoped that he was saying the right things. He just hoped that Fogfeather knew how much his father loved him, even if there wasn't enough time to show it in the living world.