Smallbean's Leader Ceremony

Whipped by heavy winds and struggling against the evening's gales, a small figure stood out from the dull brown and grey hues of Highstones as they pushed it's way up it's surface. Proving a difficult foe, the wind left the figure struggling to keep their footing, forcing them to stop to regain their balance. It was only when the figure disappeared into a cave opening that they would feel relief from the night's opposition to the journey.

When Smallbean stepped through Mothermouth, he was certain that he had never in his life been more relieved to feel the tunnel's cold walls against him, to feel suffocated by it's embrace. Despite the herbs he'd eaten, his muscles already had began to burn, and he had a feeling that the trip home would be far worse.

The silence was deafening as the Windclanner pushed further into the cave. The only sound that dare disturb the silence was the occasional flick of a pebble, tossed by his paws as he walked. Not even the sounds of the harsh wind could reach this far. It was just Smallbean. Smallbean and his thoughts.

Many times on the journey here he'd debated turning home, although he knew he'd never do it. This journey had been procrastinated enough already. Even now, though, as the light from the Moonstone's cavern shone on the tunnel's walls ahead, he doubted if this was the right thing to do. If he should instead allow another cat to step up and take responsibility for the clan. The thought was relieving, but caused guilt to gnaw on his stomach. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd be belittled. Not just by his own clan, but all those who'd known he was deputy. Becoming leader was the only option. It was the most efficient way to move on. To step forward.

Washed in pale light, Smallbean now stood in the Moonstone's cavern, looking uncertainly onto the Moonstone. There it sat, glimmering in all it's glory. Water from a recent rain gathered below the stone, reflecting it's light further. The wind could be heard now, through the ceiling of the cavern. It earned a glance from the tom.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward. The tips of his paws dipped into the puddle of water, sending a cold shiver down his spine. Unpleasant as the shiver was, the coldness of the water was welcome. A contrast to the season's hot weather. Even here, in the Moonstone's cavern, the humidity could be felt, however.

Settling down, Smallbean tucked his back paws beneath himself leaving his front paws dipped into the small pool. Worry wormed its way into his thoughts. Worry of if he would even be accepted as a leader. He'd broken the code, on more than one occasion. Never had he taken a life, but there were other things... In that brief moment, he went over every action he'd ever taken. He picked out the bad ones. He kept them in mind.

Finally, after sitting in his own angst, he leaned forward when he felt a flicker of fitness, allowing his nose to meet the moonstone.

A shiver, akin to the one that passed down his spine when he'd initially touched the water, passed through him once more. It's intensity had multiplied, it reached every part of his body, down to every nerve. The tom kept his eyes squeezed shut, face twisting at the strangeness of this sensation. It was nothing like he remembered it.

When he opened his eyes, a familiar voice reached his ears.

“It’s been a while, huh?”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Smallbean whipped his head around. His heart skipped a beat.

Stars pooled around silver-tinted paws as a speckled tawny molly stepped out from the ranks of the stars. Wildflower stepped towards her father, a small smile on her muzzle. Silver scars knitted themselves down her eyes; only memories, now, of a distant field - terror, an eagle’s talons, blood…

“I can see now,” Wildflower murmured. “It’s strange. One of many changes since we’ve last seen each other.”

Smallbean dashed forward, restraining himself from meeting her in embrace. The tears were of pain and happiness. Pain from the time they'd had to spend apart, that she'd been taken before her time. Happiness that after all these moons, he was able to see her again. His heart pounded. It hurt, feeling every single bit of pain again. "I missed you, so much." His words were barely a whisper. He pressed his forehead to hers.

Wildflower hadn’t been old when she died. Barely out of apprenticehood. A quiet, trembling mess; maybe some of those qualities remained, but being secluded in the stars for so long left her almost chatty as she regarded her still-living father carefully. He was worse than when she’d seen him last (which was saying something). If she knew anything about him, his journey was born more out of responsibility than any desire to lead. Smallstar was a laughable thought - her father was one of the few cats she knew to be even more anxiety-prone than herself.

But - it said something, didn’t it? That he was here despite everything.

“It takes courage,” Wildflower spoke out loud. “To do what you have done, and what you are about to do. But you will continue to face troubles as the leader of a clan, and it is my duty to prepare and aid you with a virtue that might prove useful in all areas of your leadership.”

“With this life, I give you courage.” She touched her nose to Smallbean’s. It felt like nothing more than contact to her, but she could see how his body seized as the life rushed through him. She withdrew as it ebbed, but stayed by his side a little longer, gazing at him. He was so clearly worn, even with the influx of a new life. “You must stand tall when others cannot.”

At Wildflower's contact, Smallbean had lost his sight, the starry plains before him being replaced with shadows as they moved and rallied together. He could no longer hear the grass as it rustled, but instead yowls of opposition and declarations of movements he couldn't make out. Wind blew through his fur and he felt as if he were being suspended in the air.

Wildflower ran her tail over his back and took a step couple steps back until she was nearly merged within the crowd of star-adorned cats again. When she spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Whenever you come back, if it’s another thousand moons - remember Larkflight and I will still be here.”  

In the aftermath of the life's terror, Smallbean's vision returned, shuddering from its impact. Once more, his gaze met Wildflower's, a fresh wave of tears soaking his fur. He nodded. His words were just as quiet as her own. "I will. I love you, Wildflower. Tell Larkflight I love her, too."

Smallbean's eyes were still wet when the next cat stepped forward. His expression lightened slightly at the sight of the cat, although a fresh feeling of guilt began to eat at him.

Flutterpetal hadn’t expected to do this so soon. Adderdawn had been avidly watching the politics of WindClan come and go, but his brother had been far more content to enjoy the eternal fields of flowers that lay in the skies, and only occasionally bear the grief that would sink deep into his fur if he ever glanced down on the cats still alive that he loved so dearly. He disagreed with the leadership of the stars on many things... but it was much easier not to focus on them. However, he had paid attention when Adder mentioned that Shrikestar stepped down. It had been big news. The stalks of grass might as well have been murmuring it to each other on the wind. And with that news had come a question. The question of whether Flutterpetal would bestow a life on the former deputy.

And so, here he was. A familiar dark-furred form, appearing with his usual soft black fur and softer light green eyes, now adorned with the bright light of constellations instead of his preferred decorations of flowers. The last time Smallbean had seen him, a deep gash had been opened in his throat, and blood spilled all over the dark sheen of his pelt. There was no longer any hint of that injury to be seen.
”Hello, Smallbean.” Flutterpetal dipped his head slightly. He’d rarely ever talked to the deputy in life, making this conversation a little bit awkward. It would be easy to make him share the blame for the ShadowClan war, and for Flutterpetal’s own death in turn, but he knew that Smallbean had never wanted it. He knew that all too well. So instead, the former WindClan warrior offered a gentle smile. ”It’s good to see you again. I wish that we could have spoken under better circumstances, but the fact that you are here bodes well. It is a new start for WindClan. One that we desperately needed.”

Relief washed over Smallbean. Relief that Flutterpetal didn't seem to hold any resentment toward him, that he didn't blame him for his death. Sniffing to keep snot from running down his maw, he returned Flutterpetal's smile. "Thank you. Me too."

Flutterpetal stepped closer forward, looking at Smallbean closely. What had been given already... and what now needed to be given? He could give the same gift that he had chosen for Leopardsun, but it seemed redundant to offer to the timid tom. A broader subject might be a better choice. Flutterpetal nodded to himself. ”Being a leader requires a lot of you,” he said quietly. ”All positions of power do. This is something you are already aware of, and something that will continue to put stress and other burdens on you. Being a leader will not be easy. However, despite the temptation, you need to remain present. You need to be a part of the lives of your Clanmates, your friends and your family. You need to never lose focus on the importance of the small things.”

Bright green eyes, the same color as fresh fields in new-leaf, shone with a wisdom they had never previously possessed, meeting Smallbean’s gaze evenly. ”I give you this life for warmth. Not the kind that the sun brings to your pelt, but the kind that interaction between cats gives to each life. Remember those who are close to you, and those who have no one close to them. Remember that each cat whose life you hold in your paws is a distinct soul with their own thoughts, feelings, and opinions. Don’t trample on the flowers. Admire them and let them grow, and you will soon find that you have more colorful blossoms than you know what to do with. Allow the warmth of love, friendship, and camaraderie to make you remember who you are. Even a leader is still just a cat.”

Flutterpetal leaned forward, bending down slightly to press his nose to Smallbean’s. The gesture was gentle. A bright spark of heat rushed through the former deputy’s frame. The feelings of safety and comfort smothered him. All in one moment, he experienced joy, love, grief, and relief. And within that same moment, it all vanished. He was returned to the plains, his paws steady on the ground.

When all was done, Flutterpetal stepped back and offered one last smile. He had faith that Smallbean could do better than his predecessor. Maybe there could be a new dawn for WindClan, after all. ”...Take care of Whisperear and Brackenwing, all right?” he asked simply. And then with that, he was gone.

"I will, I promise." Was all Smallbean was able to say before Flutterpetal had disappeared.

A pale she-cat with faint gray tabby points padded forward, starlight flickering in her fur. Swiftspirit had been expecting a change after speaking with Shrikestorm during the gathering, and while part of her feared disappointment again, she was cautiously optimistic. Smallbean had seen the damage that unwise leadership could do to a clan, and he seemed to want to be better than that. He wasn’t a cat prone to lashing out, he wasn’t a fighter... Windclan had seen enough of that, lately. He wasn’t prideful like Shrikestorm, and Swiftspirit hoped that receiving his lives would not put that notion into his head. She didn’t think it would, but she had been proven wrong before.

"Hello, Smallbean, it’s been a while," Swiftspirit approached the smaller, fluffy tom, offering him a small smile. "I remember when you patched me up in the medicine den after Skyclan... Very different methods, but the end goal of keeping your clan safe is the same, isn’t it?" She asked, "Some cats seem to forget that should be their ultimate goal upon becoming leader. Shrikestorm lasted longer than his predecessors but was even more detrimental to the clan in the end." The starry she-cat sighed, shaking her head. "I’m disappointed in you – all of you. Still, he did the right thing in stepping down. Now it is up to you to lead the clan forward." From medicine cat to warrior and now to leader. Smallbean’s path sure was a strange one, but it would give him unique perspective compared to the other leaders.

Swiftspirit's disappointment hit Smallbean almost as harshly as the winds that had protested his journey. He avoided her gaze, returning it only as she continued.

"With this life I give you a sense of duty." Swiftspirit leaned forward to touch her nose to Smallbean’s. "They are yours to lead, Smallbean. Now more than ever, your duty is to keep your clan safe and above others. Your duty is to them, not to yourself, or vengeance, or wounded pride. It won’t be easy, I think you already know that. Someone must take charge, however, and that someone is you whether you want the responsibility or not." Swiftspirit pulled back, though there was no anger to her words. They were said simply as the fact they were, without judgment. "Lead them well, for the seasons to come. You would not be standing before me now if you lacked responsibility. Good luck, Smallbean." With those final words, the pale warrior was turning, heading back to her place among the stars.

The life was temporarily debilitating, but after a quick and shaken recovery, Smallbean stepped forward after Swiftspirit. His mouth opened, but no words came out. There was nothing he could think of to say, or anything he could decide on saying. Whether to apologize, or to thank her. In the end, he ended up just giving her a glance of mixed emotion, with no time to elaborate before she was already gone.

Shrikesong was next, fading in after Swiftspirit disappeared into the stars. It was… interesting that StarClan chose her to be one of the cats giving Smallbean a life. She barely knew him, and she never connected to WindClan at all. Still, they were blood related, so that must have held for something. “Hello,” she started. “I don’t know if you remember me, but... my name is Shrikesong. I'm one of your daughters from ThunderClan.”

Initially, Smallbean hadn't recognized Shrikesong. Who she was, nor where she was from. It was her opening statement that struck fear into his heart. It seemed even Starclan wouldn't forget his mistakes, reminding him of it even all these moons later. Awkwardly, he shuffled his paws. Again, silence fell over him, unsure of where to begin - IF he should begin at all. He elected to remain quiet.

Sighing, the StarClan warrior took a deep breath in, just to calm her nerves. “With this life, I give you empathy. To be able to connect with your clanmates — and those outside — can make or break a leader, and the ability to see other perspectives can help steer your clan from danger.” After finishing, the young she-cat tapped noses with her father, giving him her life. Once the gift was complete, Shrikesong faded into the stars with the others.

Guilty, but also relieved, the interaction was over before Smallbean knew it, although it felt like the life had lasted a lifetime. It felt as if a stake had been driven through his heart, but in the same breath felt relieving. When he had enough time to register his sight after his eyes opened once more, Shrikesong was already returning to Starclan's ranks. This time, he did say something. "Shrikesong! I'm... Sorry. I hope you can forgive me." When she was gone, he let out a heavy sigh.

The next to come forward would be a cat whose shape was almost entirely the opposite of the budding Windclan leader. Awkwardly lanky legs that formed the base of a still somehow even taller cat, whose frame was lithe and skinny like the very grasses that covered the moors. The long face with odd, large ears was unmistakable. They hadn’t seen the small tom in quite some time, but that didn’t mean they had been forgotten. No, instead, they had simply watched on from the stars. The tunnels had taken their life much too soon, much earlier in their time of a warrior than what should have. But the time for reflection was not now. No, instead, they were called to do something. Something to help the future of Windclan, even though they couldn’t walk among their clanmates now. So, swallowing whatever fear it was that engulfed them otherwise, they came forward.

”It’s nice to see you, Smallbean.” They said, dipping their head low enough that it actually showed some reverence. Which, was just a bit difficult, given how much smaller the tom before them was. ”You… May not remember me. But I’m Mallardduck. I was a warrior not too long ago.” Stars, how long had it been? That didn’t matter. ”It was my attempt to find new routes that claimed my life. But, I feel my sacrifice was still for good.” After all, sometimes it took something difficult to bring the good of new in. That was what they told themselves, at least.

”I fear it was Shrikestorm being too rigid that led Windclan down this harmful path. But you… you can make it right. So, Smallbean, I gift you a life of exploration. Use it to never be too rigid in your ways. Listen to your clanmates and follow the paths they may lead you down. Always be curious, willing to look into and embrace the new. Tradition has its place, yes, but so does a new perspective.” Leaning forward, they placed their nose to Smallbean’s head. It was a relief to get to give something back after what felt so long of having just taken from Windclan. That very urge to explore and find new possibilities had always filled them, even into the stars.

At Mallardduck's contact, Smallbean felt an incessant itching in his paws. They itched to run, to go find new things. Memories of Windclan territory, and even the Twolegplace den flooded his mind. It was as freeing as it was pleasant. When he returned, aware of his surroundings again, he nodded to Mallardduck. "Thank you."

With the life given, the two-toned feline gave a firm nod. ”You’ll do great.”

Then, out of glittering murk emerged a hue of unfortunate amber — a manifestation of stardust and sunken stomachs. It'd been an eternity since Smallbean had known her and her vulturous wake. The she-cat's residence amongst the stars may have kindled some form of renewed maturity, but that didn't mean that her vitriol had yet been extinguished.

Smallbean's now narrowed eyes followed Vixenpaw as she slinked around him. The memories of her no longer remained. The feelings of those memories, however, lingered.

"Remember me?" Vixenpaw trilled, slinking around Smallbean like a fox on the prowl. The glint in her eyes signaled that she was already relishing this. It was a scene already burned into memory: igniting sparks in the spotlight, towering over an enemy-now-deputy in a manner reminiscent of their first chance meeting. "Tsk, of course you do. How could you not?"

The once-ThunderClan apprentice drawled her words with the viscosity of sap oozing from a rotting tree. Shards of venomous vanity still prickled from her voice, just as it had all those moons ago. After all this time, she still held no trace of remorse for it.

However, while she'd never betray herself by uttering it out loud, some ember in her gut flared with awed astonishment. The cat she had only known for being a sniveling, pathetic coward was ascending into the position of sovereignty that she herself had always craved. It tasted sour on Vixenpaw's tongue. Was it sentimental, perhaps? One last encounter with an old… friend?


Without a sliver of genuine benignity, her nose crashed upon the tom's forehead. "With this life, i give you spirit. Rise up, don't back down, and never apologise to carrion. I need you to listen to me, softie. Grow some guts and be a blessed, blasted fighter."

Now, Vixenpaw had relied on Smallbean bracing himself for thunderous contact, because she could've only foretold that this one would hurt. A surge of electricity, searing every capillary. An inferno devouring his lungs, ascending from ash to slash and scar the skies above. Her eyes snapped to slits as she swiveled to hiss into Smallbean's right ear, the one which she herself had nicked—


As Vixenpaw straightened and shook her sleek pelt with nonchalance, a sugary smile carved itself onto her maw. Contrary to the very gravity of the ceremony, she had conducted the entirety of her duty with caustic animosity. After all, sacrilegious or not, the stars themselves surely couldn't have expected anything less of her.


Smallbean felt as if she owed her no words. No approval or praise. Nothing. His narrowed eyes remained locked on her, following her as she vanished, almost sad to see her go. Whether he longed for her familiarity, or just wanted to express his anger and hurt to her, he didn't know. The ebbing energy from his most recent life flowed down to his claws, and up until Vixenpaw had completely faded, they stayed unsheathed, flexing into the dirt.

The next cat to step forward was a dark, marbled tabby cat, gaze the same shining amber as Smallbean's own left eye. Crowcaller emerged into the moonlight, his head tilted ever so slightly as he regarded his father, though this ThunderClanner's expression was far friendlier than his sister's had been. "Hello, father," he said. That word didn't really come naturally, but the tom did his best not to trip over it. "Do you remember me?" He asked, "We only met the one time, at Fourtrees... back when I was still Crowpaw. It's Crowcaller, now. Heh, I wasn't exactly the friendliest to you, looking back I realize that, now." Some of his siblings had been far ruder... but Crowcaller only remembered being confused, and conflicted. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with his half-clan heritage, but eventually, he had. And he'd still been a good ThunderClan warrior.

"I do... And I'm sorry." Crowcaller caused the familiar guilty feeling to return once more, the same one that had surface when meeting Shrikesong. "I could have been friendlier, too. There's a lot I could have done better."

"I want you to know, I don't resent you." Crowcaller's tone was soft, and neutral. "There was a time when I did, I think. I was angry at you for hurting Mother. A small part of me may still be. But I recognize that you did it, in large part, because of your loyalty to WindClan. That same loyalty is the reason that you are standing here before me right now - because you've proven to be a cat who will do anything for his clan. And most importantly, one that recognizes that mistakes are inevitable... because he's made mistakes, and he's bettered himself for it."

Hearing it from one of the kits himself allowed so many of Smallbean's worries to rest. The worries that, even in death, they resented him. That what he did was unforgivable. To some, it might be, but to hear it from Crowcaller's own mouth was worth more than any other cat's opinion. He lowered his head.

The darker tabby leaned forward, eyes serious. "You've bettered yourself for it." He knew Smallbean struggled with confidence, and feeling worthy... but if he was going to lead WindClan, he needed a strong front. Crowcaller touched his nose to Smallbean's forehead. "With this life I give you forgiveness. Not just the forgiveness to bestow upon others, but the ability to look inward and forgive, too." Crowcaller tried his best to give the life warmth, and comfort, as it flooded from him, to the living cat before him. "You're a good cat. You'll be a good leader - that's what WindClan needs right now."

There was a hint of reluctance in the tom's amber eyes as he turned away and padded into the crowd.

The life was one of the more pleasant ones he had received. It was similar to Flutterpetal's, but not as soft. It was just as warm as it was rigid, tentative but with growing confidence. When his senses returned, he called after Crowcaller. "I cared about her, though. And... I cared about you, too." Cared, he did, but was too scared. Too scared to care for those he should have loved. Smallbean was left with a strange, melancholic feeling after Crowcaller had vanished.

The next cat to appear was one Smallbean knew quite well and, hopefully, remembered fondly. "Smallbean." She mewed, stepping up to him. It had been many moons since Softbreeze's death, and she'd watched her beloved Clan closely through it all. The dogs, the war with ShadowClan, the Dark Forest. The Dark Forest brought back nasty memories of the Righteous Few, especially with Vixenstar's unwanted presence, and Dawnhawk's role in that — Klaus, Morningstar, Nightwind, whatever he wished to call himself, he was still a monster underneath it all — had only served to remind her of the Asylum. The Asylum had been her undoing, the final straw in an unraveling that had been a long time coming; Wildflower, Goldengale, Dappleshine, Raventail, Olivestar and Morningdove… it had all been too much.

She'd lost her mind back then; death had been peaceful, and, as ironic as it was, had occurred mere moments after Spiderquill's own peaceful passing. It was almost poetic that they were immediately reunited in the stars. But as much as she'd watched over WindClan, there were two cats she'd watched most. Downtuft, her beloved brother, and Smallbean, a cat who never gave himself enough credit. A close friend, her kin, her former apprentice. One of the best cats she knew. Life in StarClan had been kind to her; she no longer looked gaunt and frail, with perpetual grief stricken eyes. She'd finally found peace with herself, she'd finally forgiven herself for things she never should've blamed herself with in the first place.

"I missed you." She murmured, stepping closer to brush her cheek against his. A purr rumbled in her throat, "I didn't expect this, though. I was under the impression I'd be giving you visions one day, not lives." Softbreeze laughed, a sound Smallbean wouldn't have heard in many moons, even before her death. "I wish our reunion could be longer, but alas, StarClan has a time limit on long winded speeches. Finchstar and I have protested it, but to no avail." She jested and sighed dramatically, but her soft blue eyes held a playful glimmer in them.

Smallbean offered her a laugh. Softbreeze. The cat who had trained him in medicine. His gaze softened, he padded forward to meet her. "I missed you too. I'm happy, you look well." Smallbean was able to take note of her fullness, the joy she seemed to express. "A lot has happened, I wish I could explain it all to you." At least she was able to too recognize of the lack of time they had. Silently, he noted that one day, he would be able to tell her all about it.

"Smallbean, with this life I grant you the gift of inner peace. You have been through far more than any cat should. You've seen monsters in cat skin, both living and dead, StarClan and Dark Forest alike, and you've triumphed over it all. Have mercy with yourself, for you will make mistakes. That's inevitable, but you have to forgive yourself else you'll never be able to fully right them. Aspenheart once pleaded with me to forgive myself for the pain I bore, and now I ask the same of you. Your Clanmates are your friends, lean on them when you need to, but promise me you will be happy. I've made you swear to that once before when I named you a full medicine cat, and now you must swear to me once again that you will live this life — all nine of them — with as much happiness as you can. If any cat deserves that, it's you. Love yourself. Find peace within you for you, because you are worthy of that much at a minimum." Pressing her nose to Smallbean, she offered a sympathetic glance. Receiving any life hurt, but she hoped this one would fill him with warmth and hope at the very least.

The very life Softbreeze granted provided relief to his every worry. The memories that would follow him around for the rest of his life, lingering memories that haunted him from his past, were now put to rest. He was met with a sereneness, followed by a dull pain. Every memory that had ever caused his grief flashed through his mind. It overwhelmed him, re-opened old wounds, but gave him relief. His past wasn't tethered so tightly to him anymore. It didn't hang over him like a cloud. Now, he felt free.

Well, it had still been a bit of a long winded speech, but that was just in Softbreeze's nature. Perhaps it was just a WindClan thing. "Two more things, before I go. If it isn't too much to ask, then try to bring WindClan back to how it used to be, under Finchstar, and Ravenstar, Olivestar, Lilacstar, and Daystar. Things were good back then, and you can make them better. Don't forget your roots, okay? WindClan was formed by love and has persevered because of it. And please, never forget that I love you. That's the most important thing." With one final nuzzle, Softbreeze smiled and turned, bounding away.

"I'll try, I can promise at least that." He offered her a small smile. His ears remained raised for her second request, but fell as soon as it reached his ears. It made him weak. Just to hear that she still cared about him. Tears welled in his eyes as he met Softbreeze for one, final embrace. "Thank you, Softbreeze."

Right before rejoining the other starry pelted cats, she paused, turning back to give him one last smile. "Smallbean, you are the leader WindClan deserves after all these moons, of that I have no doubt." And with that, Softbreeze stepped away, allowing the final cat to take her place.

And just after Softbreeze had disappeared, Smallbean's gaze rested upon a cat he never thought he'd see here.

Vulturepaw.

Vulturepaw’s last memories…

What were they?

Did he even have a ‘last’ memory? When the seasons that he had been alive had him almost constantly in a feverish haze for the majority of whatever his life was?

What even was his life? Did he ever even get to have one? So constantly wracked by illness, he might as well have been the sickness itself in the form of a cat. Born with nothing but fur, legs, a tail and hardly any personality, too ill to really ever have one.

Sadness engulfed the young tom, neither aware or unaware, in some form of stasis. For once he neither felt horrible and hot, or colder than leaf-bare. Vulturepaw looked up from where he lay prone, the moon just cusping over the moors skyline- Smallbean will be at mothermouth soon. He thought idly, rising to his paws silently, a motion so easy and effortless that the tom-apprentice lurched forwards with a stumble. Amber eyes blinked with surprise as he looked down to his paws, translucent and starry as they separated from the steaming and freezing body that was; his own.

Vulturepaw stood still, as stiff and steady as a statue as he looked back unblinking at the corpse that his paws had just left. Everything felt as stiff as he was as he stared unflinchingly, despite a slight tug starting to present itself in his chest, pulling him almost urgently as the moon continued to rise.

Amber eyes slowly left the sight of his own body to look to Sparrowthorn and Batsong, his wide gaze slowly softening as he realized that despite every cats effort, he had finally lost the battle he had been fighting so desperately to win.

But he couldn’t find himself to be sad about it. He had never lived, Starclan had sent him down to live no life but as a host to an illness. A giddiness filled his chest as he gave a hop closer to the medicine cat den entrance, a lightness and a strength to his limps he’d never felt before. They carried him effortlessly, with no strain or shakes to give the impression that he had only gotten a second wind. Vulturepaw gave a leap and burst out of the medicine cat den, taking a big heavy inhale of air as he danced. He twirled and whirled around the clearing, imagining that he was tossing up blades of grass and dandelion petals, that the wind that whisked the camp and rustled the dens was tossing his fur around like the prairie grass.

He gulped and swallowed and inhaled so much fresh air he felt almost loony as his dancing feet felt alight with an energy he’d never known. His fur prickled as his bright and rich - no longer gloomy and dull - amber eyes set sight upon the moor and he ran.

No -

He soared as he shot off across the plains like he’d never done before, like he’d never felt before. The tugging in his chest fired into a blazing roar, a fire prickled at his toes as he ran for the mothermouth, the wind whipping at his whiskers and if he had known it in life, the little nipping of the wind at his nose.

Endless giggling erupted from the apprentice’s throat, and if he had been more naive, he’d thought that the stars twinkled along with his merry chuckling. His heart knew where to go, as he dove past the fearsome teeth of mothermouth, and danced along the tunnels, erupting into the shining clearing with the moonstone, spinning and twirling along the rock before he launched into it.

Everything blinked out for a moment, longer than if he himself had blinked, and in that moment everything was dark. He didn’t worry- or he knew he didn’t have to worry- when things had gone dark, but the blast of greenleaf warmth, with the nipping of cold winds on his nose and ears had him instantly in awe.

He was in the moors, alongside other cats, his breath coming in heavy pants with huge sucking breaths as if he could simply not get enough. His gaze frantically took in the sights, of the swarm of cats that he had… appeared behind? Standing up on his toes, much shorter than a lot of cats in the crowd, he desperately looked to see the focus of all this attention.

Smallbean. So he was here to witness the ceremony?

As soon as the thought passed, the crowd parted enough to give him a clear view, and a few paws prodded him forwards until he stood before Windclan’s new leader.

Windclan’s new leader that now would realize that Vulturepaw had died. Vulturepaw’s mentor when he had briefly been well enough to become an apprentice. Sorrow now clouded the joy he had felt in his chest, grief that he never got to experience the trials of become a warrior. He never got to be a warrior alongside his sister and make his father and mother proud of him.

He couldn’t make Smallbean proud of him either. Meekly, Vulturepaw stepped towards Smallbean. Apprehension now clear on his gaze as he looked to Widnclan’s leader. He didn’t speak- he couldn’t speak, his mouth flapping and agape as he tried to say anything.

His jaw shut with a clack, and his lips pressed tightly together and his ears flicked against his head. What could he even give Smallbean? What did he have to give? He didn’t have the chance to build anything for himself so what purpose did Vulturepaw of all cats have in a lives ceremony?

Seconds felt like hours as Vulturepaw desperately tried to contemplate. What did Vulturepaw need to give Smallbean? What did Smallbean need? Vulturepaw settled slowly as he looked to his former mentor with a steadiness that he hadn’t known moments prior.

“Smallbean. All of my life. I have been ill.” Vulturepaw’s voice was lilted oddly, as if he wasn’t just nervous, but so unaware or knowing of how much volume his voice held, or really how it sounded at all. “I’ve never known anything other than chills, fever, and delirium.” Vulturepaw nearly choked, his amber eyes turning glazed and watery.

“I had a passion before I became nest-ridden. To become the best warrior and son I could be. I never could be any of that though. I fought for my life each and every day and night, and maybe, it was only my passion that kept me going for so long. So that is the life I give to you.”

“Smallbean. For this life, I give you Passion. Use it to support your clanmates, even if your or their strength is not enough. Use your passion to push you forwards, no matter the cost, or how your body limits you in your time of need. To go beyond your limits, for cats like me.”

Vulturepaw’s breath came in heaving gasps as tears soaked his fur and dribbled on his paws. His nose wet as he stepped forwards shakily to press his snot-ridden nose to Smallbean’s forehead.

“Please.”

Tears remained in Smallbean's eyes as Vulutrepaw stepped forward. They began to drip as his eyes squeezed shut at the life's impact. Energy surged through him, from his nose to his tail tip. A fire engulfed his insides, rising up and swallowing him whole before he rose again.  He met Vulturepaw's gaze when his eyes opened again. "You shouldn't be here. Not yet." He whispered, stepping forward.

"I hail you by your new name, Smallstar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of Windclan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity” Words Vulturepaw had never known before, coming from his own mouth, like a cat nearly possessed. It was at this moment that Vulturepaw appeared confident before slipping back into anxious uncertainty once more.

Vulturepaw looked nervously to his Starclan companions before he stepped back, disappearing amongst the crowd of his new companions.

"Thank you, Vulturepaw. May you rest peacefully. Explore everything you were unable to in life. I hope that one day, you'll be able to meet your kin. And one day, I'll meet you here, too." Whether or not his words would ever reach Vulturepaw's ears, he would never know. Stepping backwards, he watched the remaining cats, looking at each one. Before his eyes, they faded, and within a heartbeat, he was left alone.

In one blink, he was in the Starry plains of his ancestors. In the next, he could feel the sensation of water at his paws again.

Jolting upwards, he was alone again. The cavern was empty, the moonlight was gone. His eyes were wet. He blinked to remove the tears from his eyes.

He stood up, feeling no different. 'Smallstar'. It really meant nothing to him. Although he knew he was now blessed with nine lives, the pain in his muscles still remained. They ached more now. The rigid stone floor made sure of that.

Through the hole in the cave ceiling, he knew it was time to go. The sliver of sky he could see was still dark, but a faint blue was beginning to creep in from the east.

Leaning onto the tunnel's walls, he padded through the tunnel, leaving the moonstone behind. 'Smallstar.' The name was foreign. Not unwelcome, but not customary. Much prestige and honor came with such a name. Smallstar felt none of it. He felt weak and defeated. His body felt like it was dragging with every movement.

When he resurfaced, meeting the moor's winds once more, he learned that they had settled to a breeze. The early morning was serene, but not silent. Tired, but not spent. The horizon was stained purple, a promise of the rising sun. As the soft breezes ruffled his thick fur, and the air began to warm up, Smallstar found himself with hope, still. Hope that gave him the drive to continue on, despite the aching in his limbs.

With one final look behind him, leaving his old self behind, Smallstar stepped forwards, carefully beginning the descent down Mothermouth. Looking ahead, he was able to see the furthest stretches of Windclan territory. With the rising sun, he would be returning to camp. He would be returning carrying the burden of their lives, as well as his own. Now, though, he wasn't as worried about it anymore.

For the first time in a long time, Smallstar felt okay.

Lives: