Bearpaw's Moonstone Journey

Marshstorm padded out of the medicine cat den. The place where his mate lay resting with her injuries. He turned back to look towards the entrance of the den. His conscience torn between taking his apprentice to the moonstone, and staying with her. He grit his teeth and padded forward towards the apprentice's den. His amber eyes looking over each cat in camp until he found the tom he was looking for. The distinctive claws gave him away readily no matter what he was doing as he padded forward.

"Bearpaw." He greeted, his tone calm and neutral. His posture straight and neutral as it normally was, with only a little tension towards his left hind leg, where an old injury stung from his leg's overuse lately. "Come with me. It's time for you to make the journey to the moonstone and share tongues with our ancestors." He explained as he turned and gestured to the mouth of the medicine den where a couple bundles of herbs were waiting.

The young tom's mind still reeled with thoughts of the battle from merely days earlier. Exhaustion wracked his body as he continued about the normal duties. Thoughts of being a warrior did not cross his mind at all, even though it was something that was long overdue. Instead, he focused on being a warrior and pushing away the picture of Birdflight's hallow eyesocket. He could not shake the idea that it had been a message for him. Even though the apprentice's expressions betrayed nothing, a slight shudder ran down his spine at the idea. When his mentor approached, Bearpaw had been unprepared. Marshstorm's words were met with a slow blink of his eyes as he registered what had just been said to him. His ear flickered slightly at the words. Moonstone? It was as if he had forgotten the customary visit to highstones every cat was supposed to make prior to receiving their full name and becoming an official warrior.

After an elongated pause, the bulky tabby finally let out a raspy and simplistic meow, "I'm ready." The fact of the matter was that he was anything but what he had just promised his mentor. At the thought of speaking to Starclan his mind immediately darkened. Lichenmask's tyranny over the clans, one that ended in the death of almost every one of his followers and the pain of many more, had been an endeavor that had been spurred on by their starry ancestors. While he was a cat of the code, the code did not dictate his undying faith in Starclan, and it was for that reason now that he held little more than disdain towards them. With a stiffened nod, Bearpaw followed the deputy's gaze towards the herbs. He did not wait to approach and swallow them. The taste was hardly pleasant and seemed to stick to the back of his throat. But with little more than a slight twitch of the edge of his maw, Bearpaw managed to take them down.

"Whenever you are ready, Marshstorm." He uttered with the utmost respect for the tom who had trained him. It appeared that his warrior ceremony would be on the horizon with this next honorable step and it was the deputy who had gotten him to this point. As much as he was grateful for the opportunity, the idea of having to stand face to face with a long dead cat who had supported the massacre of Lichenmask was tougher to swallow than a stringy piece of freshkill. Bearpaw's face gave nothing away as he attempted to swallow back the dryness in his throat. Whatever may come, he was at least ready for the journey.

Marshstorm swallowed down his own herbs with a grimace. To say that he looked forward to meeting with their ancestors was a bit of an understatement. He wanted, no, he needed to know the truth. As he lead Bearpaw out of camp and towards Fourtrees, where they would cross into Windclan territory, his mind spun in a constant weave of thoughts. He glanced back at Bearpaw, the apprentice hardly seemed to look forward to the journey and he frowned in thought for a long moment.
"For what it's worth," he began solemnly. "You deserve to be a warrior. You fought hard in the battle of Lichenmask... in my opinion, you are already one." His tail brushed against Bearpaw's spine comfortingly. "However, this is tradition... I only hope that most of what that tom spewed were Dark Forest lies." He offered the thought in an attempt to rid the tom of his gloom.

StarClan had always been there when he needed them. Whether by chance, or by design. The mere idea that they would betray him and the clans felt like a frog he hadn't chewed slipping down his throat. Bitter and choking. No amount of clawing would remove it, but only swallowing the unfortunate situation would hold the tears at bay. He glanced at the young tom, but said no more. What was there to say? It was all a miserable misfortune that only could be resolved once they reached the moonstone.

---

The journey was hard. The slope up to WindClan's moors hadn't been so bad. Nor had the casual run across the length of seemingly endless grass. It was the thunderpath however, which now posed the biggest problem. Monsters ran across at breakneck speeds that made Marshstorm's pelt stand on end. There were many this time, not as few as his own Moonstone journey. It would be a dangerous crossing, one he wasn't entirely certain they could make in one go as he stood next to Bearpaw.
"We'll have to go together." He meowed firmly. His amber eyes turned to Bearpaw's to stare at them directly. "Run when I tell you, and do not stop. No matter what happens." The order made clear, he turned back to the thunderpath. After several more monsters, a small break happened, and Marshstorm yowled at Bearpaw to run as he sprinted to get across the thunderpath as pain lanced through his hind leg. Suddenly and abruptly, he fell onto the middle of the last lane of the thunderpath. The earth roared beneath his paws as he stared up at the shining metal beast that bore down on him while he struggled to stand. The loud screeching noise of the beast echoed in his ears as he managed to haul himself free as the monster turned away from where he had just been laying. A foul stench and acrid tang added to the already disgusting odor of the thunderpath as the monster kept on down the road as if nothing had happened. His pelt still on end.

They continued out of the camp and into the vast expanse of territory that he had once marveled at as a new apprentice. Now, he stood a warrior-aged cat and did not even feel a hint of the awe that had once welled up in his chest. Everything had become full of obligation, duty. What drove him on was a care for his clan, his kin, and the honor he held bound strictly to the code in which he had been raised. Becoming a warrior had never been something spectacular in the eyes. Bearpaw did not look up to the great warriors like many apprentices had done before him, he simply focused on what was in front of him and what task was at paw. There was no time for staring into the world with starry, kit-like eyes. And on this particular day, it seemed duller than ever underneath the dim colors of fall.

Marshstorm's words took a moment to register but as they did his throat seemed to become as dry as the crisp leaves underpaw and he simply meowed, "Thank you, Marshstorm. Your training helped me to get here." The words were almost monotonous although they were underlined with a genuine gratitude. He was in earnest grateful for the training he had received. However, the additional words only soured his tongue. If Lichenmask had been of the dark forest, then it had proven itself to be much more powerful than the starry ancestors above with was a sickening thought in and of itself. But under the pretense of Starclan, the thought was not appealing either. Whatever had allowed such a horrid creature to exist and hold dominion over the skies was not something he desired to follow. Bearpaw found his solace in the never-changing nature of the code. He said nothing in return.
___

They continued on with their focus on covering the distance ahead. While in the back of the tom's mind he nearly questioned again what the purpose was for wasting such precious time on the distance, risking leaving the clan without them. But tradition was a core part of being a member of Thunderclan and he would have never given the thought any merit beyond the initial questioning. By the time they reached the Thunderpath, Bearpaw had allowed all thoughts from his mind to slip away. He needed to focus on traveling and dispel the picture of Birdflight's eye. Thankfully it was temporarily easy to do so as the acrid stench made his nose twitch involuntarily. The roaring echoed through his ears. Marshstorm gave instructions and his paws seemed to ache further at the thought of running across. A stiff nod was the only response as he waited.

At the break, he sprinted forward as quickly as his bulk would take him, trailing slightly behind Marshstorm. As the monster swerved towards them, Bearpaw lunged towards his mentor and was narrowly missed by its massive swerving paws. Once they were safely on the other side, the tom let out a low breath. Seeing the deputy unnaturally slow was concerning. He waited for the older cat to be ready before continuing and asked, "Can we rest for a moment? My paws are still sore." Leaving off the mention of battle, Bearpaw questioned the deputy. It was not for his benefit they stop, but worry overwhelmed him for a brief moment as he considered Marshstorm's struggle.

Marshstorm panted heavily against the dense foliage on the other side of the Thunderpath. While part of him longed for the rest Bearpaw was requesting, he also knew that the moon would be high in the sky soon. He forced himself to stand and carry on with a stiffness in his leg.
"It's alright Bearpaw... just an old dog bite." He meowed calmly, he could see mothermouth yawning up ahead of them and finally sat down for a proper rest. His tail flicked heavily beside him as he gestured to Bearpaw that now was alright to sit. "We'll need to wait until the moon is in the right spot. When we go in, follow close to me. It will be dark, " Marshstorm began, then smiled at his apprentice knowingly. "but you already know how to navigate in darkness. I have trained you well in that." He looked down at his paws.

"I just wish I had done a better job in other areas." He mewed regretfully as he looked back up at Bearpaw. "I'm sorry I let you down. With all the fuss of Lichenmask... I should never have neglected your training. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me." With his concerns voiced, he rested his head wearily on his paws until it was finally time. He rose onto his paws and gestured for Bearpaw to follow him into the tunnels. Silently, they padded through the ancient stone tunnel into the chamber with a large cavernous ceiling that hung above them. The moon's glow filled the chamber with an awe inspiring light, and Marshstorm turned his head to Bearpaw with a smile. "It's time. Go touch your nose to the stone and sleep... starclan will meet you there."

Although he longed to object, Bearpaw merely nodded at his mentor's words. If Marshstorm believed himself to be able to continue, the apprentice would not fight him, it was not his place. He followed behind the older tabby in the direction of the stone peak that rose from the horizon and became increasingly intimidating as the sun died away. The task of speaking to Starclan was that much more daunting, perhaps they liked it that way. Again instructional words were met with a swift nod of understanding. It was what followed next that caused a hint of a smile to further reveal his elongated fangs. Their training at night had been different, hard and confusing at first, but later wonderful and special. Marshstorm had been a great mentor and he was briefly overwhelmed with unspeakable gratitude. But before he could begin to fathom the feelings that build up inside the deputy was speaking once more.

"There is nothing to forgive, Marshstorm. I owe my successes to you and the failures I learned from." After, the tom allowed the comfortable silence between mentor and apprentice to fill the air. Nothing needed to be said as the pair awaited the final step before warriorhood. Several thoughts threatened to break into his blank mind but Bearpaw pushed them away for the sake of an attempt to focus on the tradition at paw. When it was finally time, he raised himself to his paws without a word and followed after Marshstorm. The dark pressed on his fur and made the tom feel like a kit once more. It was unsettling. Even when they reached the center cavern, while marvelous, Bearpaw found no comfort in the dazzling light of the moonstone. He gave his kin one last glance that hinted at his unease before padding slowly up to the stone. It seemed to make his entire body turn to ice, starting at his nose as he touched it and creeping towards his tail. With some effort, Bearpaw eventually drifted into sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself laying in the midst of starry plains. The ambiance itself seemed to put the tom at peace but it was the knowledge of where he was that caused his teeth to clench. Even in sleep there, likely due to the actions of his sleeping for below, was pain as his fangs dug into the flesh of the lower part of his maw. Bearpaw stood and glanced around the clearing. There were a variety of starlit plants and greenery that compared to nothing below. It was a beautiful place, one that he no longer deemed the long-dead ancestors worthy of. Until it seemed like the eerie and yet strangely comforting silence could stretch on no more, the shape of a cat began to appear as it roughly shouldered aside the foliage.

"You're as big as my father, aren't you? Huh. I must have been the only one to miss the gene." The small grey tabby remarked as soon as she was close enough. She walked a circle around the tabby, causing his head to swing around. Wolffang stood about the overgrown apprentice's shoulder. It didn't bother her in the slightest to not be as large. True, it could have been useful in life, but she managed just as well without the sheer bulk. When she was satisfied that she had taken in enough of her kin, she stopped right in front of him with their noses almost touching and stared up the bridge of his nose. He was a peculiar case and not simply because of the massive paws and sizeable fangs. There were many qualities this tom possessed that that late she-cat admired and wished she had in her own days within the forest. Finally, she let out a semi-amused snort, "Oh, he would have killed for your paws."

"Who are you?" Bearpaw demanded. Kin. He had been able to pull apart that much. This small cat's coat was covered in so many scars that he doubted the medicine cat at her time had been any good otherwise her pelt would have been that much prettier among the stars. His question was more for a lack of anything else to say to her remarks. But as she mentioned his claws he could not help but look down at them. He had not studied them since kithood. They were merely a part of him even if other cats seemed to take a strange interest. Flexing his several long claws into the ground, Bearpaw almost forgot he had even asked a question.

Wolffang scoffed, a mixture of disappointment and pure reaction, "A typical apprentice respond... but I suppose you deserve an answer for coming all the way out here, and we are kin after all. I'm Wolffang of Shadowclan or something. Or was Shadowclan. The great Thunderclan deputy, Marshstorm, is my brother." Although there was a teasing tone to the words, it was near impossible to surpress a genuine purr of pride. He had come so far, so much further than she had. There were many bittersweet memories there that she longed to dwell on but there was only so much time. Marshstorm himself was waiting for this very apprentice to wake up so they could begin the journey back to their clan. Her ear flicked as she gathered her thoughts, trying to carefully choose the words or magic wisdom to pass along to one of her kin that still walked the forest. Grasswhisker had softened her to the ways of the living, unfortunately so, and especially since it had become so critical as of late.

Bearpaw's ear flicked at the mention of Marshstorm and their relationship. It was interesting to see such a snarky cat as the deputy's sister. They likely shared more physical traits than mental, and even that was cut short by the color of their coats. The mild and momentary interest at the moment died out and he simply meowed, "Tell me what you have come to say."

"No respect for the kin that brought you into the world, kit? Unless they stand before you in the clan? Well, let me tell you, you've got a ways to go. Those claws of yours will only continue to get you in more trouble. My brother has done what he can for you but if you don't learn yourself, things aren't going to change. Get your claws out of your mouse-sized brain and think like a real warrior." Her ever shortening patience was snapped by his calm demeanor. Wolffang bore her teeth at she hissed at him. Originally she had intended to send along well wishes to Thunderclan's leadership, ones she watched out for more eagerly than any other, aside from this bullheaded apprentice before her. Whipping around she did not spare him another glance of her yellow eyes before disappeared back from where she had come.

Bearpaw was left slightly dumbfounded and no more appreciative of the ancestors as he had been before. The world around him began to shift and change. There were several flashes and his head swam. Gaping holes. Empty sockets staring straight into his soul. Blood. So much blood. He stared at Aspenpaw once more. And the world tilted. Birdflight was underneath his claws. A yowl of shock and agony left the tom's maw and then... his eyes shot open. They were wider than they had ever been in the waking world. The transition shocked him like being splashed with the cold water of the creek. His breathing was ragged and came in short gasps. It took more than a few moments to recover and even then he still was not quite focused but rather pushed it all away as he slowly regained his footing before walking over to Marshstorm. Oh, great Starclan.