Flintpaw's Moonstone Journey

(occ: short and kinda crap, sorry cx)

Leopardstar quelled a huge yawn as he emerged from Pricklepaw's den, a bundle of traveling herbs clutched carefully in his jaws; placing them down gently, the leader took a seat near the camp entrance, ears pricking as he gazed around for any sight of the young tom he was accompanying today, Flintpaw. The tom was quickly approaching the age of a warrior, so he hoped that this journey would give him the chance to see what kind of cat he had chosen to be.

(ooc: lol it's fine, finals week amiright? XD also, thank you for dealing with angsty Flintpaw lol)


Over his moons as an apprentice, Flintpaw had never thought much of Starclan. It wasn't that he didn't believe in his starry ancestors, but rather that he felt no use for them. I'm not dead yet, am I?
The only time Flintpaw had ever sent a prayer to the sky was when his sister Chervilpaw passed away. But since then, the gray tabby was now a very different cat. Her death affected him more than he'd like to admit. Now he was smart, smart but bitter.
Flintpaw had never liked the way Thunderclan was run, in fact most of his anger resided with the leadership. Leopardstar, Marshstorm, Pricklepaw… Where were you when my sister collapsed in the dirt?
It shamed Flintpaw to admit though, that in fact he had never confronted any of these cats himself. But the tom was smart enough to understand that the word of an apprentice wasn't valued too highly. He was taught this when he crossed the Windclan border, having been churned into the dirt by two rabbit-chasing apprentices. The scars of Flintpaw's battle still criss-crossed his pelt. His clanmates had not been happy.

Blood pulsed through Flintpaw's ears as he emerged from the apprentice's den. He knew what to expect. He and Leopardstar would walk to the moonstone, find some starry warrior, and return home. But it would be naïve to think that the two cats wouldn't talk along the way. What would Flintpaw say to Leopardstar? Had the leader heard about the apprentice's reoccurring disobedience? Just play the part... Flintpaw told himself, quite aware of his past actions as he lapped up the traveling herbs and nodded to the golden leader.
"Hey." Was all the apprentice managed. Hey?! You mousebrain. Just talk NORMALLY, you're good at this, you know that. Flintpaw winced, wanting to get this trip over with as soon as possible.

Leopardstar's golden-ringed tail lifted from the dust as soon as he caught sight of the young tom's stony-gray tabby pelt, the scars left there from a foolish skirmish against their ally standing out starkly in the pale mid-morning sun.  Ahh yes...I remember now.  He's one of Tatterdleaf's kits, a Tribe descendent.  Dear StarClan, I'm a hopeless leader if even that most simple knowledge managed to slip my mind!  Once his memory had been sparked, many other suppressed recollections began to flow back to him...including that of Chervilpaw.  To himself, he had passed off his absence within the clan for so long as just being busy, preparing for the war against Lichenmask and planning for leaf-bare; he knew though, that Marshstorm did all that and more, while still managing to find time to speak to his clanmates on a personal level.  He had no viable excuse, except for incomprehensible fear.

"Don't get close enough to let them hurt you..."

"Hello."  A bit taken aback by such an informal, almost rude, greeting, the golden spotted tabby's black-tipped ears flattened slightly before quickly shaking off the shock.  How long has it been since someone has addressed me as an equal, outside of my family?  It's somewhat refreshing.  Trying his best to put on what felt like a casual smile, the ThunderClan leader waited until Flintpaw had swallowed down the last of the traveling herbs before getting to his feet, shaking a bit of frosty mud off of his shoulder.  "Well, if you're ready, let's head out.  We need to cover a lot of ground before dark."  Padding at a steady pace, the larger warrior led the way out through the gorse tunnel and up the steep precipices of the ravine.  The sight that greeted them at the top was not unusual, yet still sent a rough wave of chills down his spine.  The quickly balding branches of their beloved forest were making way for the first snowfall of leaf-bare...a time he always dreaded for many reasons...some universal, some very, very personal.  He only hesitated for a moment before proceeding, checking over his shoulder to make sure Flintpaw was keeping up alright before breaking into a trot, his paws crunching against the frosty leaf-strewn grass along the path that led towards the WindClan border.

Flintpaw trailed after Leopardstar as they made their way out of camp. The crunch of the leaves under his paws reminded him of a time that felt like forever ago.
His first day out as an apprentice. It had been a day quite like this one, but the air was warmer and his heart was lighter. Back then, the trees seemed to beckon him, the forest was magical and the grass lapped at his paws. But now, it seemed the forest had turned its back on Flintpaw, it didn't spark the kit-like awe in him anymore. Maybe it was scolding him for his hardened heart. It made the apprentice feel lonely.
But then there was the golden tabby padding in front of Flintpaw. His presence cut through the loneliness and Flintpaw almost welcomed him. It was strange indeed, this cat, Leopardstar, was one he had despised ever since his sister's death. But walking beside him now, in the quiet of the forest, it was weirdly... intimate.

It hit Flintpaw hard. This cat wasn't much different than the apprentice. In fact, they were almost alike. Flintpaw knew it was a naïve way to think, that a disobedient apprentice could share anything with Thunderclan's golden beloved. But he yearned for it to be true, because a connection would lead to a friendship, and a friendship would lead to change. Change for the better. There were so many ideas in Flintpaw's head as he padded through the leaves, riding on the tip of his tongue. He was smart, and knew that the minute the ideas were spoken, the respect that was meant to reside between apprentice and leader would be shattered. But you're Flintpaw. When have you ever respected anyone? Flintpaw realized with a smirk, that his past recklessness would prove useful. I'm a cat with nothing to lose. A terrifying realization, but an empowering one.
"Why do we even need borders?" Flintpaw questioned. The silence that followed after was crushing. But the smile on the apprentice's face made the danger less scary. He knew it wasn't the best idea to ask the Thunderclan leader questions that he should already know the answer to. But Flintpaw needed to know what Leopardstar thought. He wanted to test the limits, push boundaries. In a weird way, it excited him.

A lingering silence stretched between the two cats for a very long moment after Flintpaw's bold question had rung out through the chilly leaf-bare breeze, a sharp twitch of Leopardstar's black-tipped ear the only acknowledgment he gave of hearing the words.  The cogs and gears of his brain whirring behind hazel eyes, the large warrior's paws crunched against the icy leaf-litter, his pace constant.  "...A question many clan cats have asked before, yet we still haven't decided on a satisfactory answer; or, maybe there is none."  His husky voice paused as the golden spotted leader pushed past a partially wilted fern, revealing the familiar sight of Fourtrees, the old oak leaves scattered upon the earth like fallen soldiers.  Leopardstar halted to stand at the edge of the slope, his tail low to the ground and swaying calmly, before finally glancing back over his shoulder at the tabby form of Flintpaw, inviting him forward with a shadowed half smile.  "The borders between the five clans have existed for as long as any cat can remember; it is said that the founding leader of SkyClan was the first to establish his own, and the other founders followed suit. The mists of time have obscured their exact reasoning, but most would assume that borders were made to protect loved ones and to feel secure in a place that is undeniably yours, that you have the right to fight for and preserve.  They probably couldn't see the possible consequences of this...the wars and invasions for the sake of food and pride, the heartbreak that comes when two lovers are cut apart by a scent line, cries of helpless kits left on the outskirts, alone and scared...but despite the tragedies, I believe they are needed.  If one clan let their borders fall and summoned a call for peace and unity, how many of the other clans do you think would follow, versus how many would be at their camp within the next few sunrises with a battle battalion?"

The tom's ringed tail swept around in a wide arc, taking in the different habitats that lay beyond each side of the sacred clearing.  "Wise or not, the clans are what they are today because of our separation.  Do you think WindClan cats would still be the same WindClan cats that you know today if they hadn't laid claim to the moorland?  What about ShadowClan, where would their pride be without their pines and marshes?  Or RiverClan, with their waterways?  Each of us has evolved to become one part of something much larger, and even if there are wars and fights and disagreements, we come from the same story.  Borders may just be scent marks, but it is the way we live our lives that constitute our identities, not just the blood that runs through our veins or which kind of prey we happen to fancy.  Alas, each of our identities are very much separate, and probably always will be..."  The golden-pelted leader trailed off, eyes staring off into empty, thoughtful space before he suddenly came back to reality with a chuckle.  "Ah, I rambled a bit there didn't I?  Anyways, I hope that answered your question young Flintpaw.  Shall we continue?"  Stepping away from the slope, Leopardstar turned towards the moorland path, glancing back over his broad shoulder.

Flintpaw narrowed his eyes. He didn't anticipate Leopardstar to be so accepting of his question. He was expecting to be scolded like always, but instead he had received a lengthy explanation.
Leopardstar would make a good mentor... Flintpaw told himself, despite disliking the cat, he couldn't help but admit skill when he saw it. Unfortunately though, the answer he received didn't resolve any of his questions, in fact, it just created more.

The two walked together in silence. Flintpaw wondered if he should say something, but that window had passed. The cold wind sliced through his gray tabby fur as they passed Fourtrees and journeyed into the moor beyond. Maybe Leopardstar is right... The apprentice told himself, narrowing his eyes against the wind. Forest cats aren't built for the moor... But Flintpaw wasn't ready to come to that conclusion. It all didn't add up. His mind was a storm of thoughts, his ideas plagued him every day. A burden of knowledge he wish he didn't have to carry. Flintpaw's heart was heavy as his paws waded through the wheatgrass, trailing after Leopardstar. This was the spot where he had fought with those Windclan apprentices. The gray tabby's blood had stained the dirt as a sign of his defeat.
Nothing in his life seemed to give him answers. He wanted someone to agree with him, he wanted someone with an open mind, someone that, like him, questioned the rules. Somehow, Flintpaw hoped that the moonstone could heal him. It was funny really, the apprentice didn't care much for Starclan, but now, his starry ancestors seemed to be his last hope.

~TIMESKIP~

"We're here."  As the sun began to dip below the hills, bathing the cloudy sky in vivid tones of copper and pink, the due of forest-cats rounded the last hill and came into sight of a large cave opening, it's interior nothing but pure darkness as far as the eye could see.  Stopping for a moment to stretch and allow Flintpaw to rest, Leopardstar gazed headfirst into the path ahead, no sign of fear or apprehension present upon his stoic face.  This was just another trip, after all, he had walked this trail too many times now to count.  They didn't wait long; as soon as the sun had fully vanished and allowed the moon to illuminate the golden-pelted tom flicked his tail to beckon Flintpaw forward, stopping just before the threshold between sky and stone.  "Follow me closely, use your nose and whiskers to navigate, not your eyes.  It won't be long."  Stepping forward, the two cats vanished into the narrow cave, where light was a stranger.

After what probably felt like ages of slipping through tight passages and brushing sensitive whiskers up against stone walls, the two ThunderClanners emerged into the largest cavern yet, where the Moonstone waited for them, already alight with a transcendent white glow.  Stepping off to the side, Leopardstar meowed deeply; "Press your nose to the stone's surface Flintpaw, and lay down.  StarClan will bring you into a deep sleep, and send one of their rank to speak with you.  I'll be here when you wake."

Flintpaw's mind storm seemed to grow and grow as the two walked. His paws felt as heavy as tree trunks. And all he could manage was to stare at the ground, and keep the thoughts at bay. The rest of the walk was a blur. And the apprentice seemed to hold no memory of it when they reached Highstones. There was a Thunderpath, the long stretch of moor, a distant Twoleg place. But no details. Flintpaw's mind threatened to overflow when they started down the tunnel. Leopardstar's words were foggy and the apprentice found himself simply going through the motions, not registering any of it.
The cold walls of stone seemed to close around his pelt, sucking the leader and apprentice in deeper. This was pure darkness, not a healing darkness, no. Just black. It did nothing for Flintpaw's thoughts. The gray tabby trudged over to the stone, that's what cats are supposed to do, right? The question rang through his mind. Flintpaw's turmoil was almost palpable. Not a physical pain, but rather a mental one. Being on the verge of something great, and yet blind to what it is. His breathing was heavy, and he hoped that Leopardstar wouldn't notice.

The moonstone was cold against his nose. Black turned to white as the apprentice squeezed his eyes shut. Flintpaw didn't know what to expect. He hoped for healing, for answers. What do I do with all my ideas...? Mostly he hoped for the raging storm in his head to cease. Everything else had failed him. And, as much as Flintpaw hated to say it, Starclan was his last option.

As Flintpaw materialized in the Starry Plains, a long-deceased cat was waiting for him. Her short, soft black fur clung to her slim firm, and her long tail was curled around her paws. She looked young, but her gaze belied her ages-old wisdom. Along with her ethereal beauty, cleverness shone from her hazel eyes, and with a quick glance she scrutinized the apprentice in front of her. After the look, her face softened. "I am Shimmerheart of ShadowClan," the once-elder meowed kindly. "Welcome to StarClan, Flintpaw. How may I help you?"

The gray tabby's paws hit solid ground again, but it wasn't the cold, hard rock of the moonstone cavern. He stood amongst swaying grasses, a warm wilderness, stark in comparison to the frosty forest he had came from. Flintpaw's green eyes were wide as he spotted the black she-cat in front of him. She was ethereal in manner, Starclan no doubt.

"I..." The tom tripped over his words, in awe of his surroundings, and the realness of it all. Brow furrowed, Flintpaw sat down, looking off to the side. I'm here. He tore at the grass beneath him with unsheathed claws, deep in thought. Perhaps it wasn't the proximity of a Starclan cat that bothered him, but rather an opportunity for advice, for answers. Admitedly, the tom didn't care much for his starry ancestors, up in the sky, watching the turmoil below. But there was no doubt that they had wisdom, and the warrior in front of him now, Flintpaw guessed, was no different. This is your chance to be healed... He told himself, tail lashing behind him. He cast Shimmerheart a suspicious glance, quickly averting his eyes as she returned his gaze. The storm in Flintpaw's mind was still there, ever present. Untouchable but very much real. And maybe it was the storm that made the apprentice open his jaws to ask Shimmerheart the golden question, much to Flintpaw's dismay.

"I have a problem." Flintpaw struggled, toying in the grass with a claw. "I have these ideas in my head... Ideas about clan life and how it could be improved, about how similar all cats are, about how the way we're living is all wrong... I know you won't agree with me if I tell you them, but just... What do I do with these thoughts? There's so many of them and they-" hurt me. Flintpaw trailed off, not voicing the last of his sentence. He didn't want to tell the ShadowClan she-cat about the storm that racked his head. It wasn't necessary information. "...they aren't helpful if they're stuck inside my head." The gray tabby finished where he left off, avoiding talking about his personal issue. "Do you...have any advice?" The latter words went against everything Flintpaw believed in. Never, ever would he ask for help, let alone advice. But this was Starclan. Anything goes...

Shimmerheart listened carefully to the tom's woes, then smiled slightly when he was finished. Her hazel eyes glittered as she looked at him, calculating something in her head. "Well, I don't think your thoughts are the problem," she said finally. "The problem is that you're doubting yourself, and trying to keep your ideas in. That won't work at all. You've been blessed with the gift of intelligence, and with that comes a need to talk to people. Trust me- those thoughts do no one any good when they're stuck in your head. Let them out." The slim she-cat flicked her tail. "It doesn't matter who you talk to- family, friends, even a leader. And it doesn't matter if your ideas are wrong. Just keep thinking of new ones, and someday you'll change the world. Have more confidence, Flintpaw."

Shimmerheart spoke with words of wisdom, Flintpaw knew that if the starry warrior understood what his thoughts entailed, she wouldn't be as kind as she was now. But they were comforting words nonetheless. It gave the apprentice a feeling of hope. Maybe it was the soft sway of Starclan's grasses, or the calculating, glittering eyes of Shimmerheart. But the apprentice felt understood. Even if those ideas are wrong... A rare smile found its way to Flintpaw's face. His mind felt better. You'll change the world... Purpose. It gave his paws direction. He didn't know what to do with his thoughts yet, but he knew that putting them into action was a must. Shimmerheart had caught his attention. It wasn't just what Flintpaw wanted to hear, but what he needed to hear. Confidence. He'd have to try. With a dip of his head, a rare gesture of respect, Flintpaw murmured "Thank you." He felt his paws shift from the Starclan grasses to the cold stone of the cave. He left with new thoughts, new ideas, and the storm in his head subsiding. I'm going to have a purpose... Flintpaw told himself, rising to his paws. We'll see where my ideas take me...