The stars... friends or foes. (Closed)

It had been only a few dawns since Firepaw and Flamewish had been laid to their rest. Days that had blurred by in painful emotions that had Dewshine holding tight to her kits, where she constantly feared every time Gingerstripe or Flurryshine left camp. Where she wished that no cat had to fight in that StarClan cursed battle. Her delicate claws dug deep into the earth as she padded in silence to the copse of birch trees. It was a place of comfort for her, the gentle white bark of them glowing against the moonlight made her think of the moon and if it had a pelt. One that was touchable, mortal, like them.

Not as unreachable as StarClan. Her muzzle tilted upwards towards the sky. It was dotted with stars that only a few days ago had been completely obscured. Whether or not they had abandoned the shaken Clan cats was beyond her guess... but right now. She needed them. Needed to believe that Firepaw and Flamewish were up there, and giving the starry cats a piece of their minds for not stopping Lichenmask sooner.

Yet, as she approached, she was surprised to see the large dark form of the deputy on the ridge she had planned to sit on. Her delicate silver ears flattened a little, but she blinked her blue eyes and took a breath. They had no quarrel. Gingerstripe had proven his worth... and if he still had doubts about her loyalty... than he was a stargazing fool. Instead, she padded slowly onto the rise and sat right down next to him. His presence a comfort beneath the endless blanket of stars.

"I wonder which ones are Firepaw and Flamewish." She whispered softly before she could stop herself. Grief, though less all-consuming raced through her paws in a flood that she had forced herself to learn how to control. She had to. Blossompaw and Foxpaw needed a mother, they needed strength. She had to give it to them, even when her heart felt shredded in front of her paws. Was her kit proud of her? Flamewish, though not officially hers, had been a cat she admired and fought for, against odds to get her trained. She was practically adopted into the family... the loss was just as profound.

Scorchclaw wasn't sure what had led his pawsteps to the Beech Copse. When he had left the camp earlier that evening, he had had no specific destination in mind. He had walked and walked. Before he knew it, he had simply found himself there. He must have been lost in thought. When he finally snapped out of his daze, the sun had already set. The sky was dark once again, but not as dark as it had been before the war. Thousands of stars twinkled up above. StarClan had returned; there was no doubt about it. Silverpelt was in clear view, as if she had never left. The moon seemed to be in a particularly good mood that night. It's silver rays drove away the long shadows that crept across the grass. While the fluffy deputy's first thought was to get back to camp, he soon changed his mind. No one would mind if he was absent just a little longer. Instead, he padded deeper into the trees. At the other end of the copse was a gently sloping ridge. It was this ridge he took a seat on, lifting his pale green gaze to the night sky.

Although several days had passed since Lichenmask's death, the clan had not yet recovered from the losses it had suffered. It was no surprise. While those that had been wounded were in Goldeneye's capable paws, not every cat had been fortunate enough to escape with their life. Flamewish's and Firepaw's deaths had left a sort of void in RiverClan, one that was especially felt by those who had been close to the two. Following the end of the war, time continued to flow. With the end of every day, a new one awaited. One barely had the time to reflect on what had passed. Scorchclaw was in the mood to be alone, and he now seized the opportunity that had been presented him.

It was not an overstatement to say that the brown tabby was resentful towards StarClan. After the chaos that the starry ancestors had caused, they dared to simply return to the forest. One thing was for sure--he would not be among those who welcomed their return. It was just as he had told Fawnsong. Their ancestors had been cats when they had walked this forest, and they were cats even now. They had really ended up dividing themselves. One big clan, his foot! If he could come face to face with Fawnsong again, he would laugh in the she-cat's face.

The quiet pawsteps almost went unnoticed. Almost. Scorchclaw twitched one tufted ear, but he did not turn around. The cool breeze brought Dewshine's scent to him. At the recognition, his brow he furrowed just slightly. What was she doing here? Perhaps, she had come with the same intention that he had. Soon enough, her voice sounded by his side. His line of sight flicking towards her, Scorchclaw regarded the silver warrior with an expression of mild annoyance. His solitude was already at its end. Of all the cats it could possibly be, it had to be Dewshine. Ever since her relationship with Gingerstripe had been revealed, she hadn't been his favorite clanmate, for obvious reasons. But moons had passed since then, and now here they were. Perhaps it was sympathy for her loss, or the sudden impulse to hear what she had to say--after a slight pause of a few seconds, he looked away, silently accepting her presence. "Who knows?" He responded impassively. Then the venom crept into his voice. "Now they wander alongside the cats who brought about their death."

The glance of annoyance had not gone unnoticed. She blinked back the burning words in her throat, the ache in her chest that only added to the weight of the misery around her. With her kits gone... how was she to cope with it all? Her blue eyes stared into the darkness above them. The bright glow of the stars lighting up the sky around them, yet it was so dark down on the ground that she could barely breathe. The feeling became worse with Scorchclaw's words. Ears flattened as a rush of burning resentment flowed through her. How could Scorchclaw say that? They all fought for StarClan?

Was he wrong though? The painful thought hit her hard, her body flinched to the side as though struck. Did Firepaw and Flamepaw feel the same way? Were they trapped in a place with cats they did not like? What would happen to a cat that believed in StarClan, yet had that very faith stripped away by a single moment. An awful, terrible moment of fire and lightning that made her pelt still stand on end to think about. Lichenmask had been beyond normal cats. No regular cat could beckon lightning, take out all the leaders, strip away the nine lives of one... did StarClan truly curse them? Did they choose a RiverClan cat because they were angry?

"I'm not sure what to believe anymore." Her voice was a whisper. The hollow sound of a cat who's very beliefs felt more fragile than the fallen leaves around them. Was it her fault? Was it StarClan's? Was it theirs? She knew her kits would never have deliberately given up their lives. They were fighters, warriors, they died a true death saving cats. Still, the thought of Lichenmask being among StarClan stung, too much to bare. "He would not be in StarClan." Her voice was firmer, more steady as she forced the brunt of what she could believe. Whether it had been StarClan's intention or not, he could not be among them. Surely they could see that?

StarClan had wanted to rid the clans of their impurity. Firepaw and Flamewish--the first bore the blood of both ShadowClan and RiverClan, the second had come from ThunderClan. Was StarClan satisfied, now that these lives had been taken? Having been dead for so long, perhaps they saw themselves as gods of some sort, playing games with the lives of mortal cats. Lichenmask had lost in the end, like a piece being knocked off the rock to be swept under the moss. What had happened to those who had supported him? Did they not still wander the hunting grounds of StarClan, watching and continuing to scheme their next moves? Somehow, he doubted that they would be simply cast into the Dark Forest, even though they ought to have been. Did those cats not feel any trace of guilt, when they considered all those that Lichenmask had killed? RiverClan really did not need their ancestors throwing dirt on their name. They had had enough enemies even before Lichenmask's birth.

When Dewshine spoke up, Scorchclaw twitched one tufted ear in silence. He was sure that there were many who now felt the same way she did. Perhaps a majority of the cats in this forest had always looked to StarClan, trusting their ancestors to care for them. As for him, he had never really trusted StarClan. Their betrayal had not come as much of a shock to him. If their personalities had somehow become perfect after death, he would feel better about all the power that was in their paws. Unfortunately, they had not. They were every bit as twisted and imperfect as the cats who still inhabited the world of the living, as seen by their decision to commit mass murder. The fluffy deputy had never been one who was skilled at comforting others. He was aware that his words had stung Dewshine rather deeply. It wasn't that he didn't understand even a little of her pain; it was precisely because he knew what she had lost that he was angry. Simmering with resentment towards the starry ancestors, perhaps he had been looking for some cat to debate with. How coincidental that that cat would turn out to be Dewshine.

The large, fluffy tom didn't need to spend much thought coming up with a response. Green eyes narrowing, he fixed the stars up above with piercing scrutiny. "You feel lost now, because you put too much faith in cats who are every bit as fallible as we are." He spoke with bluntness, maybe even a little sharply. "Our ancestors are cats like you and I. The main difference is that they hold power far greater than what we mortals can ever dream of." Unless that mortal was Lichenmask, one sent from StarClan. "They are capable of making terrible mistakes, and they made one. That's all there is to it." Ever since he had been a kit, the trust that his clanmates displayed in StarClan had baffled him. Turning so that Dewshine's pale, starlit form entered his vision, he continued. "He is not one of these stars that shine on us tonight, that I believe." Whatever had happened to the StarClan cats that had supported him, Lichenmask probably had not received the same fate. "Is it amusing? StarClan raised him to purge the clans. Now that he has failed, they cast him aside." The corner of his maw quirked sardonically. He felt no pity for the former RiverClanner; he did not have such unnecessary compassion. Still, he presented the question as a matter of irony.