And So It Begins... [Closed]

Slatethroat had considered the names carefully. If they were going to succeed in their efforts as planned, they would need to be careful. No matter what else went on, the warrior knew he needed at least a few cats that he would be able to trust. Both him and Dewtuft had agreed on the names. No cat was to speak of this, and he was sure none of them would. Hopefully, their desire for the strong future of the clan would appeal to them. What was in store was only logical for the strength of the clan. His claws dug into the earth once more as he waited near the clan entrance. He was to lead a patrol. Brindlewhisker was sending them out to check the borders and make sure nothing was lurking there. It was understandable. They needed to make sure none of the tribe cats were lurking around, and if there were any...

All of these thoughts set his teeth on edge. The fire that now constantly roared through his veins did not seem to cease. Revolution was on the horizon, his destiny was there. The whole forest would cower to all of Windclan and their clan would finally have the respect they deserved. Each cat who had been picked was loyal. They would be able to see the glory that lay on the horizon for them. His mouth curled up at the edges in a soft grin. Hopefully, they would all meet here soon so the borders could be checked, and he could finally share his vision. Finally, there would be a start to his plans.

Wildheart headed to see Slatethroat for the patrol. It had been too long since he had done much in the camp, so he was glad to get out and about. Maybe they could do some hunting on their way back, the fresh-kill pile was starting to run a bit low. Although, he was sure that there would be multiple hunting patrols today. "How's it, Slatethroat?" he greeted with a swish of his tail.

Laurelsong pushed her way through a dried patch of tall grass, shaking small pollen-like seeds from her gray ears as she padded out into the open, gazing around curiously, albeit a bit cautiously.  She knew that she had been sent here to join a border patrol with Slatethroat and some other cats, it seemed to just be routine.  Yet, something felt strange about this whole situation.  Undertones of secrecy and intimacy had laced the tom's voice when she had been picked to come along, which was the reason why her paws were quivering with anticipation; yet the tips of her sharpened claws were showing, and the sleek fur on her tail was prickling.  Better safe than sorry.  

Exhaling in a calming manner, the-gray-and-white molly caught sight of the darker colored tom standing a little ways off, and met his green gaze before nodding a silent greeting.  Even though there was a slight difference of shade, the two cats shared a bit of resemblance.  They were kin after all; her grandfather Smokepelt had fathered Slatethroat and Dewpelt, along with their sister Sageleaf.  Despite this, Laurelsong had never really bothered to interact with any of them; she definitely admired the two powerful warriors though.  They were strong, true clanmates that WindClan deserved, and just like herself a fire burned within them.  A fire of ambition.

Noticing that Wildheart was already there as well, the younger she-cat nodded a polite greeting before sitting down beside the two older warriors, increasingly aware of her lack of seniority among this 'chosen' group.  Sitting as tall as she could, Laurelsong held her head up high, prideful determination shining in her moorgrass-green eyes, as if daring someone to even try ordering her around.  She  was a warrior now, not some naive little apprentice.  Flicking her tail in a mockingly bored manner, she tilted her head arrogantly and let out a low hiss; "How long are we going to have to wait here?  There are much better things that I could be doing right now, this better be a worthwhile patrol."  She flashed Slatethroat a knowing sort of glance; she knew that this wasn't just some basic patrol, and despite her facade of impatience, the young she-cat couldn't help but look forward to whatever would be happening soon.

"Well when you speak like that, that makes it sound like it's more than just a patrol." Raccoonfang said lowly. The brown warrior knew there was more to the patrol than what was being said, but if anyone else was listening on they probably would have gotten suspicious at what the newer warrior just said. The brown warrior let out a small sigh. She didn't really want to leave Mottleheart's side. Not after all that has happened.

"So are we waiting on anyone else Slatethroat or was I the last one?" She hoped she was the last so they could get a move on. Whatever this was it better be important, if it was just a patrol she wanted this to go by as fast as possible.

The warrior's impatience only grew as he waited for each to arrive. As they did, he dipped his head in turn, but did not do anything until Raccoonfang appeared. They were ready to head out. Silently, he turned his broad shoulders towards the open moors and set out. This needed to appear as a regular patrol, and all of their questioning in camp would not be smart. Any discussion would happen far, far away from any possibly prying ears. After as second, he took of sprinting. Once they were close enough to the farthest reaching border, his pace slowed, only then did he finally grunt something out. It was a highly delayed answer to Raccoonfang's earlier question, "This is it. I would not just invite any cats onto my patrol. Besides, you have all been selected for a reason."

He paused to let the words hang in the air. It appeared that each of them had already suspected there was something going on. The excitement in his voice and spring in his step was hard to miss. Ever since he had recognized his path and his purpose, Slatethroat's veins had been filled with an unspeakable fire. His goal was certain and the future was laid out. This would be just another step in a process of many that would bring Windclan back to its true glory. His eyes cast a look over the assembled patrol of chosen cats that he now faced. After locking eyes with each one, he finally asked, "Would you die in the name of Windclan?"

Selected for a reason? Would you die for Windclan? "Of course." She growled, her ears going a bit flat, this seeming like Slatethroat was questioning their loyalty. If this was something about loyalty, then Mottleheart should be here, no one in Windclan was more loyal than him. At least in her mind.

"What's this about Slatethroat? I hope you aren't questioning our loyalty." She let out a low growl. She didn't think that this was the case. This sounded like it went deeper than that, but she just had to get that out of the way. She was paranoid when it came to stuff like this.

Wildheart was slightly taken aback at the question. "What kind of question is that?" he asked with a flick of his tail. "Of course I would. Why would you ask such a question?" He was more shocked than angry, like Raccoonfang. But he was still wary of what Slatethroat's intentions were with the question.

What was he suggesting? Does he think that they were traitors? Was he going to send them on a death mission? If he was suggesting they were traitors, how dare he? And if he was asking to send them on a death mission, still how dare he? It was the leader's job to explain if they were going on a suicide run. Even the deputy came before a normal warrior on the chain of explaining. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like Raccoonfang.

"Of course not." Slatethroat shook his head as they answered. It was exactly as he hoped for. They were loyal to the clan, to no fault. That meant they were the perfect ones for the job. This was the very reason he had chosen each of them. His tail settled gently on Raccoonfang's shoulder, hoping to calm her fears, "In fact, I believe you are the most loyal of all, and that is why I have chosen to trust you all with my vision." A confident smirk twitched at the edges of his muzzle. They were true Windclan, through and through. It was no mistake allowing them to join in what would be the next greatest thing to happen. The future was close at paw.

"There is no question that the clan is in a bad place right now. We have been trampled by Riverclan, looked down upon by the rogue clan, and even attacked by cats from the mountains. The clans no longer respect us as they once had in the elder's tales. Even the traitor Rippedsky scoffs at us from his place among the impure mess he calls himself deputy off..." Slatethroat began to pace as he spoke, getting worked up as he set the foundation for his plans. Finally, he stopped to look at them once more, "Why, if we have so many good and loyal warrior such as ourselves, why is the clan failing? I believe the answer lies in one thing... our leader."

OCC: sorry I jumped ya Rainy, I'm simply trying to get the ball rollin

Raccoonfang relaxed once she heard his words, and felt his tail on her shoulder. The brown warrior was glad that he didn't think they were unloyal or anything. She continued to listen to his words.. It was true that they were weak. She agreed generally with his speech. She only knew Ashstar as leader, but there was some flaws... And she heard stories of these flaws sometimes.

"What are you suggesting then Slatethroat?" She asked. She already had an idea, but she wanted to confirmed what he wanted exactly, and exactly how they were going to do it. She was going to be betraying her father somewhat but if it was for the good of the clan then she was willing.

(occ: it's cool my dude ;)

Laurelsong cast a slightly scathing glare over the older warrior, Racoonfang; it was extremely obvious to every cat standing here that this was far from an ordinary border patrol.  Either this she-cat was as clueless as a rabbit, or she was patronizing her.  Slatethroat took off before she had much time to react though, so an annoyed glare through narrowed eyes had to suffice.  Taking off after the gray-and-white tomcat, she felt the familiar exhilarating rush of the fresh moorland breeze blowing through her fur, a daily reminder of just how much she loved her home; it was truly the most beautiful place in all the world to her, and the scent of dried grass and gorse blossoms fueled the fire in her eyes.

Skidding to a halt near the bordermark, Laurelsong gazed up at Slatethrout with eager eyes, her confidence boosted by his claim that all the cats here had been chosen for a reason.  With a haughty flick of her gray-tipped tail, the young warrior perked her ears attentively to listen to whatever he had to say next.  "Would you die in the name of Windclan?"  There was no question in her mind as Laurelsong let out a slight huff, replying with a firm, but curious, "Of course."  The tom's words reminded her greatly of the oath she had taken just a short time ago, when she had gotten her warrior name.  He saw me swear to protect and defend my clan, even at the cost of my life.  Why is he questioning that?

Any suspicions of disloyalty were quelled soon after, and Laurelsong's once aloof demeanor began to shift drastically.  Her blazing yellowish-green eyes narrowed into slits, the pale-pelted molly took a slow seat, not taking her eyes off of Slatethroat for a single heartbeat.  The most loyal of all...  She spared a moment to nod subtly at this title, her curiosity steadily growing with each eager word.  What is this about anyway?  Oaths, the most elite...is this a special mission?  Not quite.  

"Ashstar?"  Laurelsong's eyes widened as the depth of his proclamation began to sink in; is he accusing Ashstar of bringing WindClan down?  Up until now Laurelsong had always respected the seemingly strong, intelligent leader, who happened to be her great-grandmother.  The thought that she came from such a prestigious line boosted her confidence, even in the darkest days of her extended apprenticeship.  Heck, one of the reasons she despised Stoneheart so passionately was because he was her cousin; somehow a coward like him had made it into her family!  It honestly was just embarrassing.  Now though, at the accusation that she was the blockade holding WindClan back from greatness, she suddenly felt conflicted.  Her beliefs, the very fiber of her sense of self was being questioned; she didn't know if she liked it.

"I know full well that she has allowed weakness to poison our Clan...but what are you trying to tell us Slatethroat?"  A deep battle of conflictions was unfolding behind her eyes, jumping from one side to another like a frog leaping from stone to stone.  It's true...but is it?  She lets cowards represent her...that doesn't mean it's her fault though!  Still, she allows them to stay...what would the clan think if she just tossed them out?  She so wise and strong...but maybe emotion has dulled her sense of duty...  Laurelsong's flicking eyes flitted down to the ground, her posture telling clearly of her great dilemma.  She was loyal to WindClan...but did that mean turning her back on her leader, her family?

"I'm suggesting we ask Ashstar to step away from her position. Naturally, her deputy would take over. Brindlewhisker is strong enough to lead us. It is her time now." Slatethroat let the out the admission easily. It floated away with the breeze, only to be heard by the cats that stood close to him. They were the chosen few after all. Of course, there were a couple more strong warriors in the clan, but their minds had been clouded by the leader's softness. It would be much harder to sway them without plans falling into the wrong paws. Ashstar could not know. She believed that she was the right cat to lead at the head of the clan. That false belief had lead them into many bad situations time and time again, and yet the grey she-cat still believed it was her place. How she managed to stand in front of the clan and bear the title of '-star' still, he would never understand.

Once upon a time he had respected his father's mother. But, as he had watched the aftermath of Smokepelt allowing himself to be humiliated, and Ashstar strip away a formerly brave deputy's title for attempting to show the true power of Windclan, all of that had fallen away. She had helped to train him, but she had not been his only teacher, and he had built up a lot of skill on his own. Once, he had been like his father, falling under her will. Slatethroat, as an apprentice, had defended the border like Smokepelt had against Windclan. Ashstar had chastised him for such actions, and he had fallen for it. No more was the grey and white tom going to sit idly under her paw and show his soft underbelly like a Thunderclan cat. No, he was shaking away the remnants of her grip. The look of steely determination returned to his eyes, "And if she won't give it up, we will persuade her."

Wildheart flexed his claws as a nervous habit as Slatethroat explained his plan. He agreed wholeheartedly, but he wasn't sure how well the ordeal would go over with Ashstar, or even Brindlewhisker for that matter. "I don't think Ashstar will like this. She feels pretty comfortable in her position and doesn't look like she'll be wanting to leave any time soon." he responded. "And how are we going to persuade her? We are only four. The numbers are against us." There was no way they'd be able to get through everyone. Maybe they could convince more to join them?

Asking Ashstar to step away? Raccoonfang looked down at the ground a little bit, thoughts filling her mind. If Ashstar stepped away, and Brindlewhisker stepped up as the stronger leader then she wouldn't have to be paranoid about other clans taking advantage of them again. Her green eyes narrowed a new determination filling her.

She looked up at the others. "I'm sure we could grab others. If we have the numbers on our side then she would have no choice but to listen to us." She was for this idea. She wouldn't have to worry about others taken advantage of their clan ever again, and they could be safe. This was the right think to do wasn't it?

"It's like Raccoonfang said, more will come. We are no alone in these beliefs. Whether they see it or not, all of Windclan cries for the strength we have lost in these moons. If things get too bad, Dewtuft and I have plans to seek help from another clan. Ashstar has built up a group of less than thrilled cats outside of our own walls as well..." His words dripped so easily from his tongue as he laid out the plan for them. Soon, him and his brother would lead them all to greatness. They just needed to get the numbers on their side so that it was inevitable. Slatethroat smiled at the whole group once more, before his features hardened up again, "This is a very real possibility. We just need to be smart. Only speak to cats you know for certain you can trust. The fate of our clan is not just in my paws any more, it is in all of yours too. Together, we can change the future. Elders will speak our names for moons too come."

Slowly as the conversation continued, Laurelsong felt her crippling hesitance begin to fade, her eyes starting to glow with a much more familiar look of enthusiasm...and purpose.  This...this was what she was meant to do!  She had known ever since she was just a young apprentice, faced with cowardice and weakness, that the clan needed help.  She had always wanted to be the one to bring WindClan back to it's former greatness...and here she was!  Chosen, to do just that!  They would convince Ashstar to step down, to make way for Brindlestar!  And after that....Laurelstar.  Taking a half-step forward, the gray and white she-cat stared deep into Slatethroat's green eyes, looking and feeling more motivated and determined than she had in a long while, maybe ever.  "I am with you Slatethroat, we will succeed!  You're right, Ashstar's reign must end soon, for the sake of our honor and safety.  I promise, I will stand by you, and this cause, until the end!"  Her face was smiling, but serious; the passion in her voice obvious.  

"Together, we can change the future. Elders will speak our names for moons to come."

This passage burned true within her very soul, giving words to the deep desire she had been harboring for her whole life; she wanted to be remembered.  She wanted to become a legend, a story told to inspire kits after she was gone and dead; it was oh so very close, she just needed to stretch a little farther, push a little harder, to reach.  Stoke the flames of that fire in her eyes, erupt the sparks into a great forest blaze, to sweep the moor.  A rebirth.  From the dead, charred remains a new era shall rise, one of honor, bravery, prestige.  It was time; this was her cause.  Her path to glory.

A faint echo in the back of her mind, one of shameful doubt, recalled the foreboding words of her ancestor's, the stoic white tom with the odd eyes.  "There is undoubtedly a fire within you- even those who are blind can see it burning deep within you.  But this strength you pride yourself on will ultimately be your downfall."  "Do not listen to the words of a false prophet."

How can the words be false...when they are the only solid truth I have heard?