Magpiewing's Leader Ceremony

Large black paws carried the soon-to-be leader towards the medicine cat den. He paced anxiously outside of the den, waiting for Honeydrop to come out with the various and rather disgusting travel medicines that the pair would need for the night's journey. Although Highstones was rather close, the trek would leave their paws sore and ragged after all was said and done.

Magpiewing's tail lashed nervously, eyes glancing up at the moon every so often. He wasn't prepared, but what could he do? Everyone was expecting this of him. There was no escape.

All the tom wanted to do was run away. Part of him wished that StarClan would deny him his lives. Surely they knew how unprepared he was.

Honeydrop's paws were numb as she gathered traveling herbs into a pile. No one thought this would come so soon, least of all her. When Leopardstar had come down sick, she thought it would be easy to cure. She thought, at worst, that he would lose one of his nine lives. But somehow, he had gone to permanently join StarClan, leaving a mourning, disbelieving Clan behind him. The medicine cat had been stricken. After all she'd done, their relatively new leader was dead, nine times over. And most of ShadowClan thought it was her fault. Though it may have been incompetence not to realize his sickness sooner or even recognize the disease, there was nothing she could have done to save him. The accusing glares from her Clanmates, from Leopardstar's children to her own son Gingerstripe, hurt her heart more than it already ached. Do you think I didn't want to save him? she wanted to yowl at them. Do you think I didn't love and respect my own leader as much as you all do? But there was nothing for it. Honeydrop was a failure and would always be regardwd as such.

The golden called she-cat swallowed her portion of herbs, the taste not nearly as bitter as her heart, and carried a mouthful out to Magpiewing. She was sure that he was hurting as much as, if not more than, her. She set the herbs down by him and nudged him with her shoulder, trying to comfort him somewhat. It wasn't fair for the tom to be blamed for his best friend's recent passing. Magpiewing wasn't ready to be leader- but it was her hope that StarClan would make him ready. They would be far more merciful to him than to her. "D-Don't worry, M-Magpiewing. I-It's n-not your f-f-fault." It's mine.

The tom recoiled, shifting away from Honeydrop as she attempted to comfort him. He turned his head, staring away with a slight discomfort. He couldn't quite explain it, but the contact only made him feel worse. Perhaps it was the subconscious aversion to pity he felt. Despite everything he had been through, pity was the last thing he needed. He didn't want to feel weaker than he already felt.

"It's nobody's fault..." he meowed in return, tone flat, eyes refusing to look at the she-cat. There was no part of him that blamed the medicine cat. Nobody, not even all of the medicine cats that ever walked the forest could have saved him. StarClan had set their claim on him and there was nothing they could do.

"L-Let's get going," Magpiewing stuttered, scarfing down the vomit inducing herbs. His muzzle scrunched up with disdain as he rose to his paws and gestured to the entrance. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest violently as he watched the dark walls that separated their camp from the territory. The further the pair moved to their destination, the more Magpiewing felt unsure and unprepared.

The word 'run' popped into his head with every step.

Honeydrop's heart sank a little bit as Magpiewing moved away. She knew that this was hard for him, as it was for them all, but he shouldn't be reacting that seriously. Still, perhaps StarClan were the only ones who could comfort him. She would let the soon-to-be leader work out his grief on his own. After all, she certainly had her own to deal with, and involving herself in others' pain wouldn't lessen hers by a long shot. Distancing herself slightly from the black tom, she offfered him a nod and they started out.

The territory was quiet- as it should have been. The whole world seemed to be subdued and solemn, mourning the passing of a great leader who had left his Clan far too soon. With no offense to Magpiewing, she wasn't quite sure he was ready to be responsible for the whole of ShadowClan. He certainly had it in him, but if he never recovered from his reclusive shyness and aversion to Clan politics, then he would certainly be taken advantage of. She could name at least two leaders who she didn't doubt would jump at the chance to attack the weakened marsh Clan and prove their own strength. But hopefully, after gaining his lives from StarClan, the tom would gain new strength and confidence as well. He would need both to lead ShadowClan successfully.

As they drew close to Highstones, the medicine cat instinctively took the lead, her golden paws walking the same paths they had walked time and time again. She remembered coming with Alderheart, with Dawnflower, with Puddlepaw, and with Roaringblaze. Three out of those four cats she respected and loved had died, leaving her alone. The only two cats she truly had now were Flamestrike and Roaringblaze- one of whom had retired to the elders' den after a hunting accident she couldn't save him from, and the other one who was the best apprentice she could ask for, but who she could never truly tell everything about herself. In fact, StarClan, Flamestrike and Littlebrook were the only ones who knew her secret. And it would hopefully stay that way, as long as she could suppress her desire to let her sons know who their mother was- based on the feeble hope that they might love her as much as she loved them. But it would never work out. As she wound her way through the cold, dark tunnels of Highstones, muscle memory carrying her to where she knew the Moonstone's cavern would be, she accepted the reality that the two cats who knew her secret would never reveal it- and neither would she.