WindClan Deputy Ceremony [Open]

The clan chanted in delight the name of the new deputy, Finchbreeze. Everyone knew that Brindlestar had made a great decision in electing the young tom to the position. He'd proven himself a forthright and fair cat, one who would make a solid deputy, and future leader.

Even though the rain was soaking everyone's pelts, no one made a word of complaint. This was a small spark of joy in a difficult time.

Graybriar watched from the medicine den as Brindlestar appointed a new deputy, nodding in approval. The tom may have been much younger than her, but he was a promising warrior with a good head on his shoulders. She wished she could go out and congratulate him, but Briarpaw had instructed her to stay in her nest until she healed. "Finchbreeze! Finchbreeze!" she cheered, as loudly as she could through tired lungs. She looked to spot the tom and Barleytuft in the crowd.

The continual shower of rain had slicked Finchbreeze's orange and white tabby fur over his tall frame. It revealed the shapes of long forgotten scars, and the outline of thin muscles, stripped of their usual strength by the icy wind that caressed the moor.
What it did not reveal, however, was the warrior's tattered resolve. It was hidden deep within the tom's mind, away from the prying eyes of his clanmates, and away from Brookclover, his loyal mate. Finchbreeze winced as he remembered the horrid day, watching the kits, his sons die out on the dry wheatgrass, not even able to breathe their first breath. Brookclover had miscarried last moon, and while Finchbreeze's adamancy was admirable, even that took a hit from their deaths. With a sigh, the tom shoved the thoughts away, taking a seat beside his mate to gaze up at Windclan's leader.

A soft smile grew on Finchbreeze's maw as he thought of Swiftstep, deputy of the Clan. The young warrior thought back to his kithood, where he had first meant the deputy all those moons ago. The sturdy brown tom was strong, personable, and held Finchbreeze's respect. Maybe that's why it came as such a shock to him to hear that Swiftstep was stepping down. Losing his memories... The tom thought, digging his claws into the damp grass, shaken by the very idea of it. Windclan was gathered under Brindlestar now to choose Swiftstep's replacement. Finchbreeze almost thought it surreal, as a kit, he believed that both Brindlestar and the deputy were invincible, immune from the commonalities of the forest. But every day seemed to surprise the tom now, Swiftstep being no exception.

The rain continued to drum onto the grass as the Clan Meeting progressed. Finchbreeze leaned in to Brookclover for comfort, her russet fur brushing up against his. Brindlestar's words were muffled as the tom let his thoughts tank again, deep into the depths of his mind, where no light shines. He thought of the moor, and the feeling of paws skimming the very tips of the grass, thought of the big, blue sky, and basking in the sun. It seemed to call to him, speak his name as if it was his fate. Finchbreeze. Finchbreeze? "Finchbreeze!"

Brindlestar was calling his name. His name... He was being made deputy. The rest of the Clan joined in and the tom finally escaped from his thoughts, as if waking up from a deep dream. He stood still for a moment, contemplating. Another moment, mulling over ideas. And a third, a decision. "Thank you, Brindlestar..." The words rang out into the clearing, confident, not because Finchbreeze felt it, but because Windclan needed it. "I will do my very best to live up to Swiftstep's legacy." He gave the brown tom a nod, spotting him amongst the throng of cats. "You can count on me."

Barleytuft had been surprised to hear that Swiftstep had been replaced as deputy, since the tom had been his mentor, but he was certain that Brindlestar had her reasons. He was quite fond of Finchbreeze, anyways. The young WindClan warrior had spent quite a few patrols with Barleytuft and his former apprentice, Brookclover, when they had both been warriors in training. He had always been smart, loyal, and a fast learner, as well as being quite a compassionate and relaxed tom. Barleytuft was sure he would do well in the position. "Finchbreeze! Finchbreeze!" he cheered with his Clanmates.