Sparkpaw's Moonstone Journey

"Sparkpaw," Scorchclaw's voice rang out across the clearing. "it's time to go."

The fluffy deputy had just emerged from the medicine den. He stood in the shade of a overhanging willow, two bundles of herbs at his paws. A glance was sufficient to distinguish them as the infamous travelling herbs often administered to those undertaking a long journey. Once again, he was guiding another apprentice on their trip to Highstones. It had been quite a while since he had last done so. This time, the young cat in his charge was Sparkpaw. The conflict with WindClan not yet worked out, the two of them would be taking the longer route. It would be best to leave as soon as they could--even if their eyes allowed them to maneuver in the dark, he would rather make their way by sunlight. It was currently sometime after noon, when the sun was beginning to dip in the sky.

As he waited for Sparkpaw to make his way over, Scorchclaw devoured his own packet of herbs. A slight grimace crossed his face, and he was left running his tongue over his lips, trying in vain to rid them of the terrible aftertaste. Having eaten them so many times, he really shouldn't have been bothered by their taste. Wordlessly, he nudged the other share towards Sparkpaw. "I trust you know what to do." He stated dryly.

Days had passed since Starlord's departure and life seemed to continue on like nothing had happened. Camp still lived on with the usual tasks. His brother, now Berrycloud, had charged on without hesitation. The young, dilute calico wished he could go on with such ease but this had seemed to place a splinter in his heart that couldn't be shaken away. Externally, Sparkpaw had mostly returned to his jovial, flighty self, but he also wasn't one to hide his emotions and there were times his dull eyes were that much more dim.

Today was one of those days. When the deputy called his name, the apprentice's head snapped up. Oh, right, he was to teavel to the moonstone today. Instead of excitement, there was a more subdued interest rising up within him. His loner father figure had mocked the clan ancestors relentlessly, questioning their legitimacy and while spewing his semi-beliefs of cats gods. Sparkpaw's whiskers twitched in amusement at the memory. But it seemed to change his demeanor. It was bittersweet, considering the claim that one set of starry gods was better than the other. He wasn't sure what he believed personally but was open to the idea of a Starclan. Even so, most of the clan had grown a soured disdain since Lichenmask. Sparkpaw's curiousity had only grown since the moment with the exile leader.

His paws lead him towards Scorchclaw with a renewed spring in his step. Noting the older tom's words with a nod, he dipped his head to lap up the bundle of herbs. As the foreign taste caused his nose to wrinkle, it was all the apprentice could do not to spit it back into the dirt, "That was no mouse. It probably tasted just as good as the prey in dirtplace." He proclaimed with a slight laugh, mostly to himself. Dull green eyes glanced up at the deputy, "Since I've already almost died from the taste of herbs... let's go!" Sparkpaw was much more inept at reading expression than Starlord, and even worse about holding his tongue. He turned towards the entrance, eagerly awaiting what he would find at highstones.

The day he saw an apprentice enjoying the travelling herbs, Scorchclaw might be stricken with old age and hallucinating. Sparkpaw's description of the taste was accurate enough, and the large tabby let out a quiet mrrow of agreement. Once the herbs were all cleaned up and not a scrap had been left, he led the way to the camp exit. "Let's be off." The unspoken words made themselves clear in his determined posture and pawsteps. He only threw one glance back, when he wanted to ensure that the dilute calico was on his tail.

Before long, the two had splashed through the watery barrier around the island and were making their way through RiverClan territory. Scorchclaw chose the shortest path through the wetlands. Having been the one to scout out the new route to the Highstones, he knew his way well enough. There was no need to dwell too long on the thought of getting lost. Instead, as they padded along, he found his attention being drawn to the apprentice who followed in his wake. It had not been too long since Starlord's departure from the clans. While the RiverClan deputy personally couldn't be more satisfied with his absence, he knew that there were others who did not feel the same way. Sparkpaw and his littermates had had quite the outburst of protest on that day. Even now, when they seemed to have settled back into the track of clan life, Scorchclaw still kept a close eye on them. He had always been one to observe others; thus, it had not been difficult for him to do so. Was it that strange for him to be concerned? He was the deputy, after all. From what he had seen, the matter still weighed heavily on Sparkpaw. He supposed that it was only to be expected. They had shared a bond with Starlord that he had only ever imagined.

"How has your training been?" Scorchclaw's tone was stiff, almost awkward. The large tom turned his head just slightly, so he could make out Sparkpaw's form travelling alongside. "After this journey, you'll be one step closer to becoming an warrior of RiverClan." The rogue kits would be okay. He had watched them from the time when they had entered the clan, when Lichenmask's threat still pressed on the forest. They still had Finchstream, and she was more than he had ever had.

Trotting alongside the deputy wasn't hard with the excitement in his paws. Any thought of his adoptive father that threatened to slow his pace was briefly flittered over before escaping his mind. There was a fleeting hope that perhaps along their journey away from Riverclan, they might see Starlord. His eyes darted around occasionally, hoping for a glimpse of bright orange fur. But it was an abandoned ideal after some time. Instead, Sparkpaw began to ponder Starclan. The memory of Lichenmask resurfaced. Of Starclan themselves he had been sent. Hated by the clans, loved by his followers and seemingly supported by the starry ancestors regardless of any of his misdeeds. But there was something about the exile leader that had sparked questions within him. Regardless of his intent to attack the tom, purely driven on the notion that he had been evil, Sparkpaw had been spared the fate of any others who attacked him.

It was like he was back in the moment, hanging over fourtrees, staring into the eyes of supposed evil. And yet, while paralyzed, it was not with a fear but more of a surprise, a curiosity. Lichenmask was not the heartless monster everyone had seen him as. While that settled within him, a thought that had run through his head a countless number of times, there was a sense of peace and recognition. No other cat seemed to understand what he had seen. There was a slight frown that crossed his maw but it was easily replaced as he considered what Starclan themselves would say. Who would speak to him? What cat would come forward? Like the exiled Riverclan tom, Starclan themselves had been condemned. Sparkpaw found himself unsoured by the concerns of others on the matter, given his own feelings of Lichenmask.

When Scorchclaw spoke, the dilute calico's head snapped up to meet his gaze, "Oh, uh, it's been okay." The apprentice's mentor had been gone since not long after he had begun his training. Several warriors had half-trained him on patrols, and most of his battle training had happened at fourtrees while they faced the exiles. It was a rather unconventional method but he had never minded figuring things out. Sparkpaw's easy-going and curious, occasionally somewhat aloof, nature made it all seem easy.

Afterward, instead of much acknowledging the actual statement said, Sparkpaw heard himself ask, "Where would I be if I wasn't in Riverclan? I wouldn't be a warrior. That's weird to think about. Would that be bad, Scorchclaw? Do you think I'd be a bad cat?" It was more a relentless stream of unconsciousness, left untamed by the apprentice's tongue. He knew what the clans thought of loners, what they had of Starlord. But what puzzled him was the knowledge that even within the clans cats could be misguided. What made them any different? Scorchclaw was a deputy so maybe he would have the answers. Or, just maybe Starclan would. Right?

The RiverClan deputy hummed softly in acknowledgment of the positive response he received. If Scorchclaw remembered right, the warrior he had assigned as Sparkpaw's mentor had been Viperstorm. He had thought that she would be able to do a good job training him. It was a pity what had happened in the end. Fortunately, Sparkpaw had clanmates that looked out for him. Through the report he had received, he had learned of the dilute calico's unique circumstances. It was all well and good if Sparkpaw was content with the way he was now being trained, but the same could not be said about every apprentice. Some would undoubtedly prefer a specific mentor. Keeping track of the clan's numerous apprentices proved incredibly difficult at times, but the large tabby did his best. They were the future of RiverClan. It was his duty to know these things.

All of a sudden, Sparkpaw posed an unexpected question. Startled, Scorchclaw's pale green gaze made contact with Sparkpaw's dull yellow. He contained himself well enough. The flicker of surprise barely passed over his face. In terms of body language, only a very careful observer would have been able to tell that he had been briefly taken aback. He really should not have been surprised. Every RiverClan cat knew the origin of the young tom and his littermates. Combined with the recent incident with Starlord, it made sense that such thoughts would cross Sparkpaw's mind. As a young cat, Scorchclaw had never wanted to be anything other than a RiverClan warrior. Thus, it was rather difficult for him to sympathize with apprentice in this aspect.

There were several ways Scorchclaw could choose to respond. For a few seconds, the fluffy deputy simply strode along in silence, running the options over in his mind. If he were to honest here, he detested rogues and loners. His interaction with Starlord had been influenced by this view, and only served to strengthen it at the end of the day. Still, he wasn't senseless enough to present the truth in such a blunt manner. "I don't know." He admitted, although his solemn expression seemed to grow more severe. "I assume that you would be a loner. Perhaps, a rogue or even a kittypet." Whiskers twitching, he continued, in an almost detached tone, "All I see right now is a daring RiverClan apprentice. You're free to choose your own path, Sparkpaw. No one should interfere with that right. Whatever you choose, however," Here his eyes narrowed, "make sure you stick to your choice." RiverClan did not need a half-hearted warrior who was always wavering between loyalty to his clan and the life of a free wanderer. Sooner or later, Sparkpaw would need to make up his mind. Scorchclaw would not accept a choice made carelessly.

Before long, the peaks of Highstones emerged into view. The sun had fully set by the time they arrived. Silver-washed crags looming against the starry sky, the grass beneath their paws gave way to coarse soil. Here and there, dark patches of heather swayed gently in a faint breeze. The Mothermouth itself was blacker than the night could possibly be. As he drew to a stop before it, Scorchclaw turned to give Sparkpaw the important instructions every apprentice needed to follow. "Within these tunnels, you won't be able to rely on your eyes. Follow closely behind me, using my scent to guide you. If I ever get too far ahead, don't hesitate to call for me. If you don't want to be lost so deeply within the earth that you never find your way out again, don't mess around once we're inside. Do you understand?" His gaze bore sharply into Sparkpaw's, until he was certain that his charge understood. When he was satisfied, Scorchclaw's tone softened somewhat. "It'll be over soon enough. When you stand before the Moonstone, touch your nose to its surface. You'll fall asleep and wake up in StarClan's hunting grounds. Until you awake, I'll wait for you."

Then the RiverClan deputy was stepping into Mothermouth, and his silhouette was quickly devoured by the shadows. "Let's go."

ooc: i typed 4 paragraphs and the page reloaded and froze so this might be OWO and i am sorry

The deputy's words flitted past his consciousness as they continued along in their journey. A rogue or a kittypet, hm? Rogue life didn't seem so bad. Starlord had always been a rogue and he was a great father. Kittypet life, however, was something he didn't know much about. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he considered for himself. Scorchclaw didn't really answer his question and emphasized the choice of where he could go. That had never really been a question for the young tom. Riverclan was his home. Whether it was a bond knit by gratitude, kin, or an inherent sense of duty, he was never really sure. But there just simply wasn't a question to it. The conflict, the agony, that had ripped his young heart in two had come only from the conflict of losing the tom who he saw as a father, who had raised him his entire life. But leaving Riverclan wasn't an option.

As he mulled over all these ideas, Sparkpaw found himself stuck on the concept of good and bad. Scorchclaw seemed to think that ever cat outside of the clans was dictated by the lack of a moral code. But Lichenmask was seen as evil. And he wasn't truly evil, right? The dilute calico tilted his head slightly to the side in thought. He was prepared to press further, to ask more of the deputy. Usually, his untamed tongue would have done so without hesitation but he was started by the prickling of stones against his pads. His dull, green gaze was alight with excitement as he looked up to see the gaping opening of mothermouth. The faint outline of it was imposing against the dying light of day. Surprisingly without another word, the apprentice followed to the entrance. His head twisted in an acknowledgment of the directions, but only slightly. Sparkpaw was fixated with the pressing darkness of the cavern.

His eyes drank in the lack of light, something that might have caused even a grown cat to shrink back in fear. Instead, he found comfort and wonder. The damp, frigid air seemed to tug at the tufts of his disorderly pelt and slowed his steps slightly. But Sparkpaw didn't mind. Finally the luminescent rays of the moonstone, which reflected the faint rays of moonlight, cut through the darkness and illuminated their path. It was time. With only a brief glance at Scorchclaw, he broke away. There was only a moment of hesitation before he pressed his nose to the stone. A bolt of ice seemed to shoot through his very being but it quickly became more soothing than shocking. After a short while, the waking world seemed to fade as the tom drifted into sleep.

As he awoke in Starclan, Sparkpaw sat upright almost immediately. Drinking in the sight of the starry plains, a goofy grin crossed his expression as he jumped to his paws, "Hello? Lichenmask? Starclan?"

"Heya kid, how's it goin'?"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a large long-furred ginger tabby tom trotted up to greet the tortoiseshell apprentice, the starlight sparkling in his handsome blueish-green eyes accentuated by a dazzling friendly smile as if the cat was simply greeting an old friend.  Stopping about a mouse-length short from the smaller cat, the StarClan warrior grinned, his fluffy white-tipped tail waving jovially high in the air.  "I've been waiting to meet you for...how long?  Ah, no matter!  I'm Ryeheart, humble warrior of ShadowClan, and savior of all five clans!"  A sudden bout of laughter escaped the tom's jaws, and he bent closer to Sparkpaw's ear as if worried some cat may overhear.  "I promised my mate I wouldn't tell you that but well...hey, it's my first time talking to a Moonstone voyager, can't blame a guy for wanting to brag a bit!"  Chuckling, the silky-furred tabby leaned away, raising a forepaw to give it a casual lick.

Sparkpaw's eyes widened as a cat appeared from nowhere right before him. The words hit his ears just as the ginger warrior came into focus. It wasn't Lichenmask, not at all, but from the star-lined pelt he could tell it was a real Starclan warrior. The fact it was a Shadowclan cat didn't bother him in the slightest. Rather, it intrgued him why a cat from another clan would take interest in him at all. He found himself grinnjng at the tom's jovial nature. This was better than he could have imagined.

"A savior? Of all the clans? That's impressive! Your mate can't deny that." Sparkpaw laughed slightly, "My name is Sparkpaw but you probably knew that. I came here looking for Lichenmask, is he here? Starclan sent him right. A lot of the clan cats think he was evil but... I don't know. And Scorchclaw thinks that loners and kittypets are all bad but. Hm. I don't know. There are so many things to think about. You probably how all the answers, right?" All the words he had held as he walked with the deputy seemed to come tumbling out without a thought once he started talking. Sparkpaw's brow furrowed with thought as he once more revisted the questions that plagued his mind.

Ryeheart purred, lowering his forepaw as his head tilted playfully to the side; "Oh, she doesn't deny it...I think she's just gotten sick of my talking about it.  I wasn't really in the right...mindset to be proud of myself in life, so it seems I'm making up for lost time."  His boundless smile faltered slightly, but the tom's affable nature still managed to shine through, even as the conversation turned to more serious matters.  "Pfft, Lichenmask? Here?  Surely not!"  The warrior's scoffing hiss was accompanied but a sharp lash of his fluffy tail and a narrowing of his vivid eyes, his stance on the issue clear.  "Those fox-hearted idiots didn't know what they unleashed until they couldn't control it anymore, never should've tried it from the beginning, elitist kits of..."  His curse trailed off into mumbling, clearly used to having this issue pressed before him, though none the less angry.  After a moment, he flipped back to his guest, surprisingly intense compared to his previously displayed nature.  "Listen here kid, any cat who murders the innocent and encourages others to do the same is not following StarClan's bidding, he's abusing it!  Blood doesn't matter, hasn't that been proven enough times already?  My father was one of the best warriors ShadowClan has ever seen, and he was half rogue.  That stone-faced leader of ThunderClan comes from some of the lowest breed of rogue out there, and look at 'im now!  If it was up to me kid, there wouldn't be any clan borders...but, that just comes from my own biases."  He smirked, and nudged Sparkpaw's shoulder light-heartedly.  "Hey, the important thing to remember is that, at the end of the day, we're all still cats.  Lineage only means something to those who can claim it to make them feel important...what really matters it how we treat each other.  If you go around with a kind heart and welcoming words, you'll discover that the so-called differences between us are about as solid as mist.  Understand?"

Sparkpaw couldn't help the flicker of disappointment that flashed across his face as Ryeheart informed him that Lichenmask wasn't among the stars. At first, his head lowered just barely, then his ears perked and his head tilted. Starclan had sent him, right? That was where his otherworldly strength had come from. It appeared the ginger warrior, surprisingly, held the very same disdain that much of the forest below felt. Inside, the calico shrunk slightly. Would he never get the answers he sought, not even in Starclan? His spirit was one rarely crushed but it seemed another circumstance would chip away at his normally jovial nature. When his dull gaze flickered to Ryeheart, he watched the tom speak but seemed to miss most of the words that fell from his maw.

"I'm a rogue. And Lichenmask spared me." Sparkpaw mumbled slightly as he stared at the starry space behind the warrior that stood before him. After another moment, he locked eyes with Ryeheart, offering a soft-smile, "Yeah, I understand and I think you're right. Cats aren't made by their blood. But like Lichenmask was just a cat too, wasn't he? Do you think he would have been the same way if Starclan didn't tell him to? Why would he spare me? Who would he be?" It was reminiscent of his conversation with Scorchclaw, questions of good and evil, blood and life circumstance. His wild mind skimmed over all these concepts, seeking answers he only desired for moments at a time before life interfered with such thoughts. With a soft hmm, the apprentice settled back on his haunches.

Oh, right.  That.

For such a brief moment it was possible to have believed it to be just a trick of the eye, Ryeheart's encouraging grin faltered, and a melancholy sheen covered his turquoise gaze.  Within the same heartbeat though, his smile was back, but it was...different.  More soft around the edges, not as boastful...fatherly almost.  "You're much more than a rogue Sparkpaw; when you were brought to RiverClan, you became a member of the clans, of RiverClan, where my only living kin reside.  It's your home...as well as Lichenmask's home."  The fluffy ginger tom tilted his head apologetically; "I'm sorry to say that I can't answer your questions with the certainty you're looking for.  I can't just take a peek inside of the traitor's head, thank the stars, but if I had to guess...I would say he saw something in you."  Quickly realizing the possible insinuations of what he had just uttered, the warrior quickly backtracked.  'Oh uh, not something bad, I mean!  Don't get that idea!  No...maybe when he looked at you, he saw a tom bursting with life and light, eager to protect his clanmates and family.  At that moment, maybe you appealed to his better nature...the conscience he had buried so far down to allow himself to do the terrible things he did..."  He drifted off, gaze floating to the beautiful sky above them, alight with too many stars to count, and for the first time that night Ryeheart's voice grew soft.

"I made plenty of mistakes in my life Sparkpaw...but the one that cost me most, in the end, was losing sight of who I truly was.  You remind me of myself at your age...just a bit smarter, I admit.  So I'll tell you this; don't dwell on things you have no way of knowing, or no way of changing.  Lichenmask walked down a dark path, one that was chosen for him, and it permanently marked the tom with a death sentence.  No cat could've changed how things ended up, as much as I - and you I'm sure - wish they could have.  StarClan did send Lichemask, they did give him power, but once those foolish cats had realized the choice they made, they ended him themselves.  Without their meddling, Lichenkit could've lived a normal, happy life with his clanmates...I like to believe that's what he wanted all along.  So, it's up to you my friend."  Standing up, Ryeheart stood in front of the slightly shorter calico tom and rested his long fluffy tail upon his shoulder with a lopsided smirk.  "Are you going to keep worrying about why you were spared even though the answer is outside any cat's grasp...or will you live your life?  I recommend the second option, personally.  I've been down the first path and trust me when I say...it's not a place any cat should have to be."