Quailfeather & Silentstrike's Elder Ceremony

Apprehension bled from every uneven step taken by Brindlestar, her stiff and ungainly movements bearing no resemblance to her usual poise and fluidity. Even the short leap atop the Tallrock was quite a struggle for the molly, her partially healed wounds shrieking at the sudden movements. Exhaling a shaky huff as she settled herself atop the smooth stone warmed greatly by the evening sun, she tried to ignore the ferocious stinging within her throat as she peered down at the shaded features of her Clanmates. The proceedings before her held no joy like the ceremonies of Kits of Apprentices. Brindlestar held quite a few moons on both Quailfeather and Silentstrike, and yet the pair were reduced to retirement already. She had been able to save them from the dogs, The bitter sense of resignation seemed to chime in, but not from what came next. Straightening herself upright, it was quite a struggle for her to call out the ceremonial summons, "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Tallrock!"

Using every bit of effort she could muster, Quailfeather dragged her maimed, ruined body out of the medicine den. It seemed like just yesterday she'd been in the prime of her life, with a body as fit and strong as any WindClanner's, able to run like the wind and claw enemies into submission... and now she could hardly look at herself. Because of her stupidity and inability to fight back, due to some mouse-brained trauma from her days as a young warrior, she'd been beaten by a mere dog and turned into- into this. A broken, battered shell of her former self.

One twisted, chewed-up leg dragged on the ground behind her as she forced herself to a position under the Tallrock. Several claw marks over a once-perfect blue eye left it clouded and scarred, unable to see anything it once had. After limping, humiliatingly, into the clearing of WindClan camp, surrounded by the eyes of Clanmates who had once respected her, Quailfeather sat down- in as much emotional and spiritual pain as she was in physical. Though she'd seen retiring as inevitable, she'd wanted to do it from old age. Not from... whatever this was. The former warrior forced herself to meet Brindlestar's eyes with her one good eye, not able to completely keep the pain and disgrace and self-loathing from her gaze as she did so, just wanting this whole thing to be over with.

At Brindlestar's call, Foxspirit padded up to the Tallrock. She looked at her former mentor, and her eyes grew wide. What's happening? What happened to Quailfeather? Foxspirit's green eyes glanced around at the gathering cats, and wondered if any of them had the same questions as she did. Her tail lashed in apprehension.

Hearing the call for cats to gather in the small clearing was one of the hardest things for Silentstrike to listen to. It signified many things, with the end of his warrior-hood being the easiest for him to experience. The circumstances were unfortunate, that much was true- but now, Silentstrike had to watch his mate, the love of his life, go through the exact same thing he did. That, he had decided, would be the hardest part of all of this. Not the pain, the emotional stress on himself, but having to watch Quailfeather deal with all of it.

He winced as he tried his best to come to a standing pose, nearly collapsing under his own weight. With the combined injuries to his back and leg, walking would be near impossible for the senior warrior- soon to be elder. He slowly dragged himself out from the medicine cat's den, faltering at the exit. He was unsure that he could make it all the way to where he was expected to stand, but one look at Quailfeather caused him to force himself over to her side. From day one, they'd done everything together- he wasn't about to let her stand alone now. He finally made it to her side, muscles aching in places they never had before. His unblinded eye met Brindlestar's gaze, the weight of the events showing in his every feature.

There was a sour taste in Brindlestar's mouth, but she did not know whether it was from the sight of her bedraggled former denmates or if it was from the realization that their time spent together would be reduced to mere fond memories. The pale-furred molly remained silent, watching as Quailfeather and Silentstrike finally made their way to the free space within the loosely gathered crowd, posture unrelenting despite the fierce ache of her own partially healed wounds. Gazing down at the pair only heightened the somber sense of sorrow that had opened up within her chest, but she tried in vain to swallow down the turmoil. "Tonight, we gather to celebrate two of the most accomplished and loyal Warriors of WindClan, and the legacy that they will behind for us." The wounds, hardly held together by a mix of fresh scabs and hastily strewn together poultices, pulsated fiercely with the commanding tone. "Quailfeather, Silentstrike, is it your wish to give up the name of a Warrior and instead retire to the life of an Elder?"

Holding herself up straight like this was starting to hurt. Quailfeather was a tall, lean she-cat, but having a mangled leg made it hard for her to keep the posture she was used to, and hunching down would have lessened the pain somewhat. However, she was determined to at least go out with a little bit of pride, before she rotted away in the elders' den and everyone forgot about her. Well, almost everyone. Breaking through the agony she was in, a broken smile appeared on the maimed she-cat's face as her mate made his way, slowly, over to her. Though she regretted that Silentstrike had gotten hurt, at least they would have each other as they made their ways through this horrible misfortune that had gotten to them both. Trying to forget that it was her fault they were both in this mess, the gray speckled she-cat sat closely to her mate, her tail intertwined with his, bravely looking up with her one undamaged eye to the she-cat sitting on the Tallrock.

Brindlestar's words may have meant well, and may have even been true, but they rang hollow in her ears as she awaited with dread the question she knew would come. She had never wanted this. These humiliating, demeaning injuries that would keep her from doing the only thing she ever wanted, which was to serve her Clan alongside her mate... and due to her incompetence, the tom she loved above all was suffering the same fate that she was.

"Quailfeather, Silentstrike, is it your wish to give up the name of a Warrior and instead retire to the life of an Elder?"

No! Quailfeather wanted to yowl the word, scream it until her throat was hoarse, anything to stave off what she knew was coming. No, I don't want to be an elder! I don't want to retire... I just want to serve my Clan. A fierce battle raged within her eye, self-loathing and anger and despair and pain all fighting for dominance. But all it took was once glance towards her mate, sitting stoically despite the pain written in every line of his still-handsome, despite being maimed, form, his one good eye determined... and then she remembered why she had to do this. She had caused all of this pain, to her mate and to herself, and there was no way she could be a warrior anymore. Injuries notwithstanding, even if only Silentstrike had been injured, she had to make sure that no one would be hurt by her mistakes ever, ever again. So the most loyal and arrogant and perserverant she-cat in WindClan swallowed back her pride with a single blink of pain, and simply said, in a voice hoarse and raw, knowing with all her considerable knowledge that it was the biggest lie she'd ever told: "Yes."

The pain in Quailfeather's eyes was enough to make Silentstrike wince. She was a brave and prideful she-cat, and to say that she didn't have a large ego would be the equivalent of saying the Thunderpath wasn't dangerous. He knew that this was hard for her, one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. The sheer pain portrayed in the striking she-cats eye was driving him mad, and everything inside him was pointed back to those foul, ill-intentioned dogs. He'd let them do this- he'd allowed them to do this to her! He'd known about her paranoia, and he still managed to let them get to her. Not only had he been unable to fend them off when she needed it, but now, he was incapable of being the strong, supportive mate that she'd need.

His head dipped low in shame as the pained words escaped Quailfeather's mouth, shame and disappointment running rampant through his brain. He knew just as well as she did what her answer truly was- No, she didn't wish to retire to the boring, stoic life of an elder. Neither did he. There is no real choice here, he thought with a pang of toward the dogs and himself, once again. His deep, gruff, once cheery voice was pitiful among his staring, murmuring Clanmates. Everything inside of him was screaming for him to say No, I don't want to do it. He would never want to do it. "Yes." The tabby tom gently leaned to Quailfeather's side a bit, offering his shoulder for the strong she-cat if she felt that she needed it. It would hurt if she did, that much was true, but he felt that it would hurt more if she didn't.

The inexorable guilt, sharp and persistent, would not be silenced. Brindlestar was no fool to the pain and humiliation etched deeply into Quailfeather's features, nor was she blind to the unrelenting front exuded by Silentstrike. It felt wrong to burden the pair with the stagnation of Elderhood, but what more could she do? Even with all of the powers of the stars and the many lives she held, she could never heal the injuries that befallen them. Tilting her face skywards, and towards the rapidly gathering dusk that lingered just beyond the horizon, the pale-furred molly's gaze remained trained upon the faint winks of starlight that were just barely perceptible. Forgive me. She wanted to cry, yet the words could not be summoned. How could the right thing to do feel so terribly wrong? "Your Clan shall honor the both of you, and the many moons of service you have given to us. I call upon StarClan to hear these words and offer you both many seasons of rest." Hopefully the slight waver in Brindlestar's voice would be carelessly attributed to the damage inflicted upon her vocal cords, and not due to the fierce ache of grief that coiled up within the very center of her being, "May this newfound rest light the way to your healing."

Healing was such a strange concept, especially when it came to wounds unseen by the eyes. Hopefully Quailfeather and Silentstrike would see that her parting words were not meant only in the sense of their physical beings, but in regards to the undeniable agony that had taken up residence within them.

Laurelsong sat and watched the ceremony from the shadow of a bush, her face an uncontrollable pit of rage.  The she-cat's sharp white teeth were bared, and her claws plowed furrows into the earth; the fur along her spine and neck stood on end as if she were about to leap into battle.  This...this isn't fair!  Her parents...such strong, worthy warriors...were reduced to this?!  All because of some brainless dogs...unbelievable.  How could Brindlestar have let this happen?  There must've been some cause, some reason...maybe the border markers weren't scented well enough.  In the end though...their almighty leader and deputy duo hadn't been able to protect them...they had failed.

She could've done better.  She knew she could.

Her eyes narrowing to slits, the warrior spat at the ground in the direction of the Tallrock, before turning tail and vanishing into the tall grass around the warrior's den.  Not so competent now, are you Swiftstep?