A flicker of light in the Darkness [Open;WC Clan Topic]

Pulling himself out of his nest, the elder tom walked with renewed purpose to the centre of camp. And in that centre, he called out to them all, tail high and eyes bright with life. "Brindlestar! Swiftstep! My dearest Clanmates! I call upon you to gather around for a clan meeting, as I have news from StarClan to share with you. I know this must seem most unusual, but please, humour this old cat."

He looked into the dens, hoping that he'd developed enough respect within his clanmates that they didn't outright dismiss him as insane.

The ears of a small she-cat sitting beside the camp wall pricked at the sudden call, momentarily confused as to why the voice didn't seem to come from either her son, or Brindlestar. 'Dewtuft?' With head low and eyes slightly uncertain, she trotted a bit closer to investigate before stopping to groom around the scar going up her chest. Whether it was the Greenleaf temperatures or insects, something was starting to make it itch again. 'He doesn't seem... unhappy. What's going on? What happened?'


One of Deerpaw's bright orange eyes flicked open at a voice calling for a meeting. Giving a fierce yawn from his nest among the other apprentice's, he stretched in the open air of the roofless den. Once he focused, however, he realized that the cat calling was Dewtuft, not their leader or deputy. Since he was his best friend's father, he knew the tom somewhat, but felt oddly intimidated by him. Strange that he, an imposing figure in his own right, would be a bit wary of an elder. 'StarClan? How did they speak with him, of all cats? Don't only leaders and medicine cats freely get messages?' He looked to Mistpaw, hoping that she'd have some inkling as to what was going on.

Mistpaw snorted at Deerpaw when he looked at her like he had all the answers, her eyes narrowing in slight annoyance. "Don't look at me! I don't know what my dad is meowin' about." Mistpaw huffed, a small grin on her face as she turned to get to her paws. "Maybe ol' pops has grown so old that he thinks Starclan is talking to him? I hope not." Mistpaw's eyes echoed the concern that had snuck into her voice. Mistpaw stopped at the entrance of the den, looking back at her best friend with sparkling amber eyes. "Let's check it out." she mewed before disappearing into the throng of gathering cats.

Frostpaw looked up at the elder. Huh? She thought, Oh well. She padded over to him, hoping he woud say something important.

Foxspirit padded out of the warriors den. What was it this time? When she saw Dewtuft in the center of camp, she was confused. He's not the leader or deputy, and he's not the medicine cat. He's just an elder! So... what's going on? She looked at the old tom, hoping for an answer.

"StarClan?" The perplexed note within Brindlestar's normally detached voice was softened by a gentle undercurrent of affectionate warmth, while her narrow features, nearly constantly creased by the weight of an apprehensive frown, were twisted by a bemused simper. Had such words come from any other mouth, they would've likely been greeted with a stern precaution, one that nearly bordered outright dismissive behavior upon her behalf. But this was Dewtuft, the tom who had essentially raised their kits during her absence without single complaint or hint of resentment. Perhaps it was a bit unfair to lend an unbiased ear to the crippled tom, but she knew her mate's unyielding loyalty had earned him the benefit of the doubt- especially when taken into consideration that he would never pull such an offensive jape upon the Clan. "I hope they told you to not rush around on that leg of yours." Nosing the exhilarated tom into an awkward seated position that relieved the unwarranted strain from his poorly healed limb, she couldn't help but let loose the slight chiding. With Leafbare essentially right around the corner, and without a Medicine Cat to guide them through the cold season, she couldn't afford any unforeseen mishaps befalling her mate. Roughly rasping her tongue against the sleep mused fur of his cheek, Brindlestar retreated a pace or two to peer more closely at Dewtuft, the faint remnants of her previous confusion still evident.

"Tell me, what did you see?"

Swiftstep had arrived from chatting to some apprentices and took his place beside the leader. The brown tom seemed a bit curious. What did Starclan tell the elder? He could only guess as he waited for the older tom to continue.

ooc: If you wanted to join, just pretend you were here earlier, gotta move this along.

He leant into her licks as he always did, never shy to accept the somewhat rare displays of open affection. He always understood that she had to be a leader, and never begrudged her having to be stern and appear as unyielding as the moors. He loved both parts of her, and when she gave him a chance to speak rather than berate as she might have with another cat, his heart only grew fuller. He knew that his leg wasn't meant to hold him up like his, the left fore limb had healed in an odd angle, and bearing weight was a painful endeavour. But in this moment of exhilaration at the realisation he could be more than some yabbering coot, he barely noticed it.

"Brindlestar, Swiftstep, WindClan. Gorsefeather came to me in a dream last night, and passed on the wisdoms of StarClan so I may serve you. From now on, and until I am no longer needed on this earth, I am to be known as Dewpool, the newly named Medicine Cat of WindClan..." He waited for a response with abated breath, knowing that this truly did all sound a bit farfetched. Him, some old elder, as medicine cat? StarClan sure knew how to pick them.

"Medicine Cat?!"

Astonishment plagued Brindlestar's voice in the form of an unsightly splutter, her gaze wide as she peered back at Dewtuft- er, Dewpool. The confusion, once only faintly discernible, now completely twisted her features into a rather unsettled frown. First her Apprentice, then her daughter, her closest companion, and now her mate? Something pinched slightly at her heart, helping strengthen the dismayed feeling that pulsed through her veins. Although her mate seemed absolutely thrilled at the prospect of tending to the Clan through a more medicinal aspect, she couldn't help but feel frightened. She had seen what fate being a Medicine Cat often entailed, and the thought of subjecting her mate to such a thing felt wrong. Perhaps she was just so selfish, much too preoccupied with her own jaded beliefs, to see the good that would arise out of having a Medicine Cat once more.

Apprehensive shudder clawing its way down her spine, the pale-furred molly's gaze narrowed to a slight squint as she tried to catch a glimpse of any potential misgivings upon her mates features. "Is this what you want?" Brindlestar finally questioned quietly, unsure of what answer she wished to hear.

Listening to Dewtuft near the back of the crowd, Smokepelt was curious as to how a cat that had been admitted as an elder was able to become a medicine cat, but if it was StarClan's will, then there must have been a pretty good reason. Besides, the tom wasn't actually that old, he had just been injured, so it wasn't like he was some decrepit tom, maybe. Well, whatever happened, the older tom assumed that everything would work out, seeing as it always did.