A quick thank you to the roleplayers who took part in this. All of them wrote their own characters themselves. And also a big thank you to Cays who entrusted me with the task of writing her character, Sparrowpaw. Fox wrote the part of Briarpaw, Drippy wrote the part of Gingerheart, Ash wrote the part of Ashstar, Ice wrote the part of Cedarfur, Kari wrote the part of Sootstrike, RainyHeart wrote the part of Ryeheart, Yoshachu Scorchachu wrote the part of Rabbitfrost, and Ripped wrote the part of Ryekit/pelt and Cricketkit/star. I was responsible for writing Finchbreeze/star and Cays’s Sparrowpaw. Again, thank you all so much for your help. It means the world to me! Long live Finchstar!
Sun had shown its face on the moor again. The storm clouds that once plagued the forest eventually dispersed, giving up the sky and leaving the Clans broken and battered. Now the warmth and light was setting once again, casting red rays of light over the moor, reflecting from the pools of floodwater, tracing the divots in the mud. The sun reached the face of a tom, sitting at the base of Highstones, yellow eyes gently closed against its soft red rays. He breathed in, tasting the subtle warmth of Newleaf on his tongue, it was the sign of change, new beginnings, new life. The wind no longer cut through his fur like claws of ice, and the sky no longer mourned over the forest with showers of rain. Better things were coming, Finchbreeze knew it, and only wished those lost could see it too.
A flood had ravaged the forest a few sunrises ago, casting the Clans away from their homes and families, ruining the territory, taking
lives, some of which still had yet to be found. ThunderClan, ShadowClan, and RiverClan left for the mountains not long ago, hoping to seek help with the fabled Tribe cats, leaving the remaining two clans to shelter at Highstones. WindClan faced loss like the others, several apprentices and kits drowned in the current, a favorite elder said her last goodbye. And
Brindlestar... Finchbreeze still hadn't fully accepted it. Her body had been found broken and battered by the flood waves, stripped of her nine lives, lifeless on the grass. Even in death she seemed to carry with her a kind of sophistication and grace, one that seemed to speak of better days for WindClan. It was the hope that Finchbreeze needed. They had given her a proper burial, held vigil and said goodbye. But fate was calling.
WindClan was without a leader, and as deputy of the Clan, Finchbreeze arose to the occasion. He was incredibly inexperienced, younger than half his clanmates, but relied on sheer confidence and wit to keep padding on. Brookclover, who stood by his side always, was still missing, along with countless other warriors and apprentices swept away by the flood. Brindlestar’s death could be accepted, but the young deputy was too stubborn to admit his mate, his very lifeblood, had fallen victim to the waves as well. She was his everything, and he was in love. It was more true than the very earth he walked on, more true than the stars in the sky. Not even the strongest flood waves would pull them apart. He would find her, and the others as well.
Brindlestar's death and disappearance came as quite a shock to the remaining cats of WindClan. Admittedly, even Finchbreeze's steadfast nature couldn't handle that loss, both Swiftstep and WindClan’s faithful medicine cat Briarpaw provided more support than he could ask for. But the path he walked now had to be walked alone.
It was a dangerous thing, to be alone with his thoughts. The jagged peaks of Highstones had served as a home to both WindClan and SkyClan during the flood, black stone against the fading sunset. It was a promise of new beginnings. Finchbreeze knew the sun would rise again. Briarpaw, WindClan's medicine cat stood next to him. Finchbreeze respected the tom greatly. Even though he was just an apprentice, Briarpaw carried WindClan from danger time and again. Now they walked together, two figures descending into the caves of Mothermouth.
Soon Finchbreeze would answer to StarClan, press his nose to that stone and face his destiny.
Briarpaw walked next to Finchbreeze quietly. It was strange to be silent, but he just didn't feel like talking. When he had walked around Mothermouth, he kept expecting Brindlestar to appear, to return from a patrol, at least something. But she hadn't returned, and WindClan needed a leader. Finally, the silence became so unbearable that Briarpaw forced himself to speak.
"What do you think it will be like?" He asked quietly, but not too quietly. Not sure what else to say, he continued.
"Things will be different now... Won’t they?"
The light had begun to fade as the two cats made their way down the tunnel, the misty air of Newleaf giving way to harsh mountain breaths. Finchbreeze's paws were hard and sore from days of living at Highstones, but kept padding along, deeper into the cave. Outside, the scent of Newleaf floated through the night air, and the moor looked differently. There were no fabled gorse flowers to dot the meadow, no purple heather stalks springing from the wheatgrass.
Finchbreeze himself was born in Leaffall, and had only heard tales of Newleaf's beauty. The flood that had ravaged their land left it in an unrecognizable state, stripping away the promises of new blooms. This is what was given to Finchbreeze. His heirloom. A broken land with broken warriors. It took all the tom's wits to stay strong. And, nearing the moonstone now, the almost leader second guessed himself. An act that Finchbreeze had never once committed, until now. The orange and white tabby stopped in his tracks, yellow eyes closed tightly, and ears flat to his skull. Briarpaw's voice reached his ears as a whisper, tone blurred by Finchbreeze's doubtful state.
The tom's confidence, normally his greatest asset, had run dry. Finchbreeze wanted to run, run over the moors and leave it all behind. The faces of Starlord and Flintpaw swam in his mind. Two toms who had nothing to lose, a constant state that could be seen in their eyes. Finchbreeze envied them, longed for their freedom, their expendability. But the orange and white tabby had everything to lose. A clan that needed leading, an apprentice that needed teaching, and most of all, his very lifeblood, Brookclover. It was her that first demanded his commitment. Not in an obvious way, but subtle. Through her teasing words, and captivating eyes, Finchbreeze stayed for her, and would die on this very land if she asked him to. And through her, learned to care, for each and every one of his clanmates. He would lay down his very life for them. All cats held value, from the smallest kit, to the wisest elder.
I’ll find them. Brookclover, and the rest of the clan…Possessing the freedom of a loner was no doubt a valuable privilege, something enviable. But Finchbreeze had a new commitment, not a mate, or an apprentice, but this time a clan. He would lead with confidence, and when there was none, he would fake it. He would love as he loved Brookclover, and use his wits when wits were needed. Finchbreeze knew the answer now to Briarpaw's question.
"It will be hard, I won't lie to you... Things will be different, and all of WindClan may be pushed to wits end. But I will stay by their side, yours, and the rest of the clan. I promise you my commitment, you have my word."Finchbreeze padded deeper into the tunnel, yellow eyes glowing in the gloom. He would boldly go, and show no fear. His clanmates needed it,
deserved it. The moonstone shone like the very sun in the sky, lighting up Finchbreeze's orange and white tabby pelt, and exposing his scars, cuts, and bruises.
Here I am StarClan… The tom whispered to himself, giving Briarpaw a nod.
Judge me as you will.
Finchbreeze awoke in Starclan, standing in an echoingly familiar grassy field. There was no moon in the sky that night, but the countless stars glimmering above the tom were enough to bathe the field in a swath of pale light.
"Welcome back." The white tom grinned, his eyes glimmering mischievously. He seemed completely relaxed, as if appearing out of thin air was something he did on a daily basis.
"I wanted to start things off in a familiar place. Do you recognize this field? You're standing right where you were during your Moonstone journey. Starclan, that was ages ago-" The young tom seemed like he wanted to continue prattling on about nonsense, but he shook himself.
"Look- your paw prints. They seem small now, don't they?" Finchpaw's paw prints were clear in the dust of the clearing, directly next to where his feet were currently placed. They were so obvious, in fact, that it felt strange that he didn't notice them before the Starclanner pointed them out.
"You had some pretty big paw prints to fill, but I'm proud to say that you rose to the occasion magnificently."The white warrior's ears twitched. There was so much more he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to tell Finchbreeze, but the others would be getting impatient by now...
"Follow me, please," He mewed softly, winding his way through the grass. Almost a second later, the pair emerged into an entirely different area. Several other cats stood watching them. Although their features and pelts were blurred, each felt hauntingly familiar as if Finchbreeze had met them all in some past life.
Gingerheart smiled softly before taking his place beside the others. After a beat, every cat spoke in unison.
"Finchbreeze, the time has come for you to lead your clanmates. Are you ready to receive your nine lives and take your place as the rightful ruler of Windclan?"After the tom nodded, Gingerheart stepped forward.
"With this life, I give you the gift of clear sight. There are many places you will visit during your journey to Starclan; you must be aware that Windclan is not the only clan, and that many cats will try to cloud your judgment. Every choice you make impacts the entire forest, so you must always be certain that the choice you're making is right."With that, the young Starclanner leaned forward to meet Finchbreeze's nose with his own.
The next cat to step up was a soft gray she-cat, tall and regal. Though she'd been a mother before, everything about her gaze and bearing made her seem powerful. Her spring-green eyes glowed with untold years of wisdom as they looked down on Finchbreeze- and she smiled. The tom reminded her so much of herself, long ago when she'd been a mere deputy. Her fluffy tail swished behind her, and she regarded the tom before her with a glint in her eyes.
"Welcome, Finchbreeze," she purred.
"Though we've never met in life, I've been following your progress eagerly. I once stood where you stand now... my name is Ashstar. I was the leader of WindClan before Brindlestar." The starry she-cat stepped close, towering over the younger deputy.
"In my years as leader, I learned many things. But perhaps the most important lesson I learned was one that I knew already, as a mother. When you raise kits, you want nothing but the best for them- you love them with all your heart, and protect them with every inch of power in your body. Though, that may not be many inches."The leader's eyes twinkled, then she grew serious.
"This life that I give you is a mother's love. Though it hurts at times, and the pain is as fierce as anything, your love for your Clanmates will also be your greatest gift. Protect them as your kits, and feel pride when they accomplish. It's the strongest feeling in the world... let it guide you to treat every Clanmate as if they were your kin." Ashstar leaned forward and touched her nose to the tom's, letting a ripple of pain run through him- the pain of loss, and the fierceness of protection, but also the glowing warmth of fulfillment. Then, with a slight smile, she stepped back.
"You'll do well, Finchbreeze... let no one tell you differently."
Next to stand before Finchbreeze was Cedarfur, an abnormally tall tabby tom with a soft green gaze. For the longest while, he'd been one of WindClan's oldest members, until his life came to an end by the jaws of vicious dogs. Now, he lived among the stars, reunited with his brother and family, and living in peace, at last.
"Welcome to StarClan," the husky voiced elder mewed, giving Finchbreeze a nod. When alive, he hadn't gotten to know the tom very well, but from what he could tell, he would do a fine job leading WindClan to its former glory that it had lost so long ago.
"WindClan has gone through too many moons holding onto hate and anguish... and the life that I will give you is the life of forgiveness. So that you may forgive those who have wronged you and your clanmates, and make amends... to better your future. In doing so, I have faith that brighter times await WindClan," Cedarfur finished with a smile. Stretching his neck forward, he touched noses with the much younger tom, sending the life through him and to the new leader. With that he gave a nod of farewell, silently wishing him good luck, and stepped back among the group of cats.
"Stars, I thought you guys would never finish. I was half expectin' all that pretty rambling and those big, fancy words to be the death of me!"As the towering Windclan tom stepped away from the soon to be leader, a new cat stepped forth. Mist swirled around the tom's large paws as he neared Finchbreeze with a mischievous glint in his sharp green eyes. He looked... oddly young, sporting the awkward, lanky built of a cat caught somewhere between adolescence and adulthood. He was clearly younger than Finchbreeze, which made his next words seem all the more strange.
"Hey there, tomkit. How's life?"He greeted the deputy like he was speaking to an old friend, tail twitching in quiet amusement before he seemed to realize the cat before him probably had absolutely no clue who he was. Grin widening at the cat's baffled expression, the dark furred tom lowered his head in a bow.
"Rat caught your tongue, brother? The name's Sootstrike. I'm a Shadowclan apprentice... or rather, I used to be, ‘til a particularly gnarly ol' badger decided to forcefully rehome my fuzzy hindquarters to twinkle-twinkle land up here."He lifted his head to look Finchbreeze in the eye, that cheeky grin relaxing into a more friendly smile.
"So I hear you're on your way to becomin' a leader now, are ya? To be truthful, I'm not really one for formalities or grand ceremonies, little brother, but I wanted to stop by and meet the new head of Windclan... that and I wouldn't dream of missin' a chance to grace some of these old coots here with my presence."The apprentice could practically feel a disapproving glare or two from somewhere deep within the starlit mists... not that it was going to do anything but encourage him. Even so, he had to get his point across before someone got snippity with him for wasting time.
"You know, honesty and loyalty are two of of the best virtues you can carry with you in life." He began, waving his tail as he walked in a small circle around Finchbreeze.
"If you're honest, your clanmates can trust you. And no, I'm not talkin' the kinda ‘honest' that keeps you from outtin' it to your girl that you've noticed she's put on a few extra pounds. Nah, I mean bein' honest with yourself, and what you believe in. Lyin' to yourself is just as bad as lyin' to your mate, and brother trust me when I say that can get you into some deep ratdung."As he looped back around to the Windclanner's front, he grinned widely again.
"And what's a warrior without his loyalty? Ya know little brother, other cats may give you a huge speech about how your clan comes before anythin' else. Me? I'm a little different. The clan is important, don't get me wrong but..." Sootstrike lifted his paw to place it on the other tom's chest.
"I say be loyal to your choices. It doesn't matter if they're made to benefit the clan, yourself, or your family, but don't forget why you made those choices. Don't leave those things in the dust like they never happened. Good or bad, remember them. Don't lose yourself, tomkit. If you fall, your clan goes down just as fast... and doubly as hard."He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as his expression grew serious and solemn. When he looked at Finchbreeze again any trace of his earlier playfulness had vanished.
"I'm gonna be level with you. The world isn't a nice place. It's not all pretty and sparkly like Starclan here... and while I know you don't know me, I know you know loss." The tom looked back at the gathered clan cats behind him.
"We all have, at one point or another."He met Finchbreeze's gaze again.
"I gave my life to save my sister's, but I didn't just die for her ya know? Nah, dyin' is too easy, and sacrifice isn't as hard as people make it out to be. Livin'? Fightin'? Gettin' your furry rear up and makin' a choice when your chances are slim... when your back is to the wall and you swear with every fiber of your bein' that you're goin' down in flames? That's harder. I fought to my very last breath. I kept goin'. It doesn't matter what threat stands in your way. If that big, gnarly ol' nasty is starin' down somethin' you love, you don't take that blow gracefully. You step up and fight for it... and if you go down, little brother you'd best believe you gotta go down swingin'.""So, brother, my gift to you today is the life of action. Use it well. Keep an eye on your people... and even the cats that aren't in your clan... The helpless can't help themselves, ya know?" The dark furred tom grinned again, leaning forward and touching noses with Finchbreeze. He felt his words take form, becoming a chance.
A chance he honestly hoped the cat before him would not sleep on.
As it slid from Sootstrike and into the Windclan leader, Sootstrike couldn't help the satisfied, yet sad throb in his chest. Mentioning Thornbriar had been more difficult than he'd expected, and as he pulled away from the ginger/white tabby tom a request slipped from his jaws before he could stop himself
"By the way... a favor, little brother." He paused for a heartbeat, looking up at the soon to be leader with a sad smile.
"Next time you next see my sister... say hi for me."And with that, the smoke-furred tomcat turned and began heading back towards the rest of the Starclan cats. As he padded away from Finchbreeze, he spoke one last time, that mischievous tone coloring his words yet again.
"Just look for the she-cat with the bad attitude and the best right hook you've ever seen, you'll know her as soon as you see her. Keep an eye on her for me, tomkit. She's a handful, but she's the most honest and... genuinely outstanding cat you'll ever meet.""See you around, tomkit."
“Finchbreeze.” A mottled she-cat sat behind Sootstrike, and was revealed as the tom stepped away. Her voice was confident, and mature, green eyes gazing over the deputy, tearing him apart meticulously with every flick of her eyes.
“My name is Sparrowpaw, of SkyClan. You don’t know me, and wouldn’t have heard about me at gatherings, no.” The she-cat scoffed, but it was laced with undertones of sadness as well. An act of contradiction.
“Some cats are too ashamed to own up to their own actions. Tinystar being no exception…” Again, that same sad smile graced the she-cat’s mottled maw, green eyes twinkling. She rose to her paws and padded towards Finchbreeze, ears flat as if she was getting ready to fight. It was a dangerous stance, but only words were thrown at the tom, not claws.
“He killed me, slashed his claws through my throat here, all because I couldn’t escape the shadow of my father, all because I cared for him too much. Tried too hard.” Sparrowpaw lifted her head to show Finchbreeze her exposed neck, much like she did to Tinystar back in the land of the living.
“But I’m not telling you this because I want your pity. Pity is an insult, Finchbreeze, never let yourself fall that low.” The apprentice took a deep breath, digging her claws into the grassy fields of StarClan.
“I’m telling you this, so that you can keep an open mind about those around you. Never judge others for who they choose to love, and never judge others based on their circumstances. I’m asking you to understand your clanmates, and anyone else you may come across. Be smart, use your head, see both sides.” Sparrowpaw took a deep breath, padding close to Finchbreeze and pressing her nose against his without warning, squeezing her green eyes shut. Her words only coming out in emotional breaths that seemed to carry with them the weight of the forest.
“I grant you now the life of empathy. Use it to understand those around you, and use it well.”Immeasurable pain racked through the tom, leaving him reeling. All the pain of Sparrowpaw’s life, and seemingly all the pain of the forest washed through Finchbreeze, he felt loss, felt sadness, joy, anger,
everything.
A spark of amusement seemed to glitter in Sparrowpaw’s eyes as Finchbreeze found his footing again.
“Remember Finchbreeze, pity is a crime, but empathy can save the forest.”She offered the tom a rare smile before turning around to join the rest of StarClan’s warriors.
“Good luck.”
The next star-clad warrior to approach was one whom Finchbreeze had never seen in his life, yet the fluffy ginger tabby greeted the soon-to-be WindClan leader like an old friend, flashing him a bright, seemingly care-free smile before gently head-butting the living tom's shoulder. Sea-green eyes sparkling with the light of many tiny stars, he flicked his long feathery tail and began to speak in a purring tone, as if this was just a casual meet-up at a Gathering, or in camp.
"Hey there Finchbreeze, I'm Ryeheart! ShadowClan warrior, most handsome tom the forest has ever laid eyes on...and...oh yea! Savior of all five Clans!" With a ringing laugh, Ryeheart lifted his forepaw to give it a casual lick, before continuing on.
"Before you were born - heck, probably even before your parents were born - the Clans were attacked by a Dark Forest warrior, known as Smokefang. A cat who had arrived with the Tribe - Swoop - was able to supply her with a physical form, and they attacked at a Gathering, injuring many. I though, was able to see through their tricks and bypass their defenses; when I put an end to Swoop, Smokefang was no more, and the battle was won. The life I'm about to give you though...concerns something else." It only took a moment for Ryeheart's demeanor to change, but it was so abrupt and unexpected that much of the warmth seemed to drain from the air. His smile was gone, replaced with an expression of seriousness and sorrow, and his formerly dancing eyes remained still, fixed upon the WindClan deputy's own. His voice was much lower and held a more gravelly tone as if the words hurt to force out.
"For all my achievements in life though, mistakes followed me in equal measure, which eventually brought about tragedy and despair. It's an easy cycle to fall into, and I let myself dwell for many...too many moons in my own depression and regret. From my life though I learned a valuable lesson, one I wish to pass onto you, young leader." His smile returned in the form of an encouraging smirk as Ryeheart bent forward, closing his eyes as their noses touched.
"With this life, I grant you bravery, not only to face down those who would threaten your Clan across a battlefield but in the silent moments as well. Remember my words if the time comes where you have to decide in life between two paths; the one that is easy, and the one that is right. Though the easy option may bring short-term relief, to face your fears and admit your mistakes is the only way that will grant you true freedom; and that, my friend, is worth more than anything." As the powerful life transferred through him into Finchbreeze, Ryeheart opened his eyes before stepping away, watching as the new leader suffered the burden of yet another life; yet, he smiled.
"Good luck out there Finchbreeze, I've got your back!" With a wink, he fell back into line, leaving room for the next life-giver to step forward.
The next cat to step up to grant Finchbreeze his next life was a rather young cat. The long-limbed WindClan warrior didn’t bear the claw marks or gashes from the dog attack any longer, and his pelt was sleek and glistening with stars while it had been previously filthy from flood water and mud.
Rabbitfrost made his way ceremonially to his deputy, his icy-blue eyes just as expressionless as ever. Then they shone with a deep respect to the tom standing before him.
”Welcome, Finchbreeze. I am quite glad to see you are faring well. You needn’t worry about me, I am happy here. I would have given a thousand lives to save my Clan. I am honored to have died protecting you. Now, I will grant you a life.”The young warrior placed his muzzle on Finchbreeze’s forehead, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly through his nose as he transferred the power of the stars he had received upon joining StarClan’s ranks into his deputy in the form of a seventh life.
”With this life, I give you altruism. Every cat plays a significant role in their Clan, regardless of how large or how small it may be. From the tiniest kit to the most experienced elder, you must do everything in your power to keep them safe. They are the past, present, and future of WindClan.”
After Rabbitfrost spoke, a fairly burly young tom padded to the center of the clearing. Muscles rippled under his star-studded russet coat, one that was akin to that of Finchbreeze’s mate. It was obvious that he was Windclan, despite being a bit huskier, boasting the lean frame. His expression was serious, attuned to the moment, but underneath he wore the hints of a smile. This was a cat that the future leader likely would not know by name but their kinship was obvious. Ryepelt dipped his head to the tom, more than he had ever done in his short life, and meowed,
“I’m glad they allowed me to meet you, Finchbreeze. My name is Ryepelt, the name I would have bore in life had that life not been cut short. It’s an honor to be here, father.” The final word was almost whispered, incredulous. But the time for greetings was swiftly cut short. Duty was to be done, a clan to be led, and Ryepelt knew that as he took a step closer.
“With this life, I give you peacefulness. Let a dedication to peace guide you through situations that seem to demand action.” The Starclan warrior touched his nose to that of his father, an action filled with such genuine tenderness and love, that it almost seemed to help ease him into the agony of this life. Tension blossomed into the body of the other cat, threatening to rip him to pieces. Anger, rage, frustration, and a lust for war fired through the future leader’s veins for a moment before giving way to something more attuned to nature. After all of the previous second’s blazing emotion, there was a lulling satisfaction. Peace in the midst of conflict. Ryepelt stepped back and locked eyes with his father for the first, and hopefully not last, time before giving a final nod and allowing the last cat to take his place.
This reunion would be just as sweet. It took a moment for the other tom to come into focus as he slid from the dazzling plains. Once he did, it would have taken only a flutter of eyelids to bring the ginger-patched pelt into focus. He looked almost like a copy of his father, save for his mother’s eyes. The pair even shared the same physique that had been passed down by moor-runners for centuries. For a moment, he just stared, sharing a similar reaction to that of his brother, wonder at the gathering that was happening now. This warrior stood a little taller than the former, something in his eyes that discerned him. But the blood that ran through all of their blood connected them. After the few seconds he spared, drinking in what he could before the urgency to cut the ceremony short sank in, the tom spoke,
“My name is Cricketstar, for the rank I would have achieved if I stayed in the forest. It is an honor to name you in my place, Finchbreeze.”As much as he longed to spend more time with his father, more than even Ryepelt, Cricketstar understood what he had to do,
“With this life, I give you perseverance. Use it to push through even the bleakest of circumstances that may befall you.” The Starclanner touched his nose to the future Windclan leader’s forehead, relishing in the moment. Instead of the overwhelming agony that the last life had brought, this one came with a seemingly unending depression. It was the kind of sensation that made it nearly impossible to even consider doing anything more than laying pitifully in one’s nest. Any more flashes of such a sensation would have likely fallen the leader to his stomach. But it began to cease. Slowly, easing into an unparalleled strength that allowed him to push through and maintain his footing. The perseverance that could take on anything, a mental strength that would prepare him for the arduous leadership that was to come. When it finally faded, leaving the tom feeling revitalized and with a particular determination that readied him for the times to come.
There was an aura around Finchbreeze that had seemed to magnify since the beginning of the ceremony. Already had he possessed the traits of a great leader, coupled with humility and genuine care for others. But now he stood as a leader. And deserved the title of one. Cricketstar stood straighter than before, strength rising in his voice as if to proclaim the ceremony to the entirety of Starclan,
“I now hail you by your new name, Finchstar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of Windclan. Defend it well; care for each precious life; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity. And never forget who you are.” The final words were drowned out by the chorus of former Windclanners who called out the new leader’s name. Cricketstar allowed his yowl to rise among the others as they welcome his father to leadership. Windclan was without a leader no more.
The chanting seemed to not cease, but Finchstar’s son eventually lowered his voice to offer a personal farewell to the tom who had sired him, even if only for the sparse moments he had breathed the moor air. While Starclan would continue celebrating the rise of a new era, the living had to go endure that time. Cricketstar bowed his head to the Windclan leader once more before a final meow,
“Go, Finchstar and lead your clan well through these tumultuous times. She is not lost to you yet.” With that, the world of Starclan faded out, and Finchstar was to share life with those in the forest for the first time.
Finchbreeze materialized in fields of starry grass not long after he pressed his nose to the moonstone. It swayed between his paws, casting silver sparkles through the air. Ever since the tom was an apprentice, he had fallen in love with this shimmering forest, wondering of the countless stories that were held here. Gingerheart was the first to appear, much to Finchbreeze’s pleasure. This was also the warrior that had welcomed him during his moonstone journey all those moons ago, he felt like an old friend, even though they had only meant twice. His voice was soothing and seemed to wash away the deputy’s fears, it was so easy to fall into its lull, comforting and encouraging. It was Gingerheart who Finchbreeze first confided in, and it was Gingerheart that told him to follow his spirit. The life given to him was that of Clear Sight. When Finchbreeze received it, it felt as though he was as light as a bird, flying over the forest, watching all the turmoil below with eyes as sharp as a hawk.
Don’t worry Gingerheart, I pledge to keep a pure mind in judgement, I’ll make you proud...A tall gray she-cat appeared next, towering over Finchbreeze with a smile. Before she even spoke her name, Finchbreeze recognized her as Ashstar, having heard thousands of elder’s tales about her reign. He was incredibly humbled to be in her presence now, and felt himself lowering his head out of respect. The starry leader spoke of kits, and the deputy immediately thought of Brookclover and his two lost sons… Did they make it to StarClan? His thoughts were pulled away as Ashstar gave Finchbreeze the life of A Mother’s Love. Pain racked through the orange and white tabby and he felt as if all of LionClan was flowing through his blood. A desire stronger than life itself instilled itself within him. A desire to protect, to defend, to die for his clan. All Finchbreeze could manage was a breathy
Thank you… before Ashstar stepped back into the throng of cats.
Another tall frame appeared behind Ashstar, this was a tom, who looked wise beyond measure. Cedarfur. While the elder and deputy hadn’t been close in life, he still respected the wise tom greatly. Cedarfur spoke of tales of hate and bloodshed, things Finchbreeze hadn’t yet experienced yet in his life. The elder stepped forward to give Finchbreeze his third life, the life of Forgiveness. It was a searing pain when it was given, burning the tom’s body like a wildfire. But it was followed by a serene grace, a soothing calm, washing away the hurt. The faith Cedarfur held in Finchbreeze gave the tom even more drive to do his best, he would forgive but never forget, and love until he couldn’t love anymore. Bidding a farewell, Finchbreeze prepared himself for his next life.
The next tom to arise was much smaller than the previous three, and had black smokey fur that was uncanny for a WindClan cat. He introduced himself as Sootstrike of ShadowClan, voice laced with cheeky sarcasm and witty undertones. It made the deputy purr, the way he acted so confidently. Although Sootstrike made a point of referring to Finchbreeze as younger than himself, it made the deputy wonder how many moons ago this cat had passed away. It was an honor, to be visited by cats even outside of his birthclan. Sootstrike seemed to carry with him a wisdom beyond his years, giving advice that Finchbreeze would cherish forever. The life he gave was the life of Action. It jolted through the orange and white tabby like a lightnning bolt, the force of wit and willpower, setting all his fur on end. Finchbreeze was left with the energy of a thousand moons, wanting to run the moors forever. But the black smokey tom remained for a while, watching the deputy carefully. He spoke of his sister, one of the living, and made a simple request.
Of course…Finchbreeze answered, wondering if Sootstrike and his sister shared any characteristics.
I’ll watch over her as if she were my own kin. A request from an honorable cat such as this one wouldn’t be taken lightly.
Sootstrike fell back with the rest of the warriors, and a mottled she-cat took his place, carrying with her a demeanor not easily pinpointed. Unlike Sootstrike, there was no spark in her mew, but rather a drive. The cat introduced herself as Sparrowpaw, admitting how she was killed by Tinystar, much to Finchbreeze’s shock. She spoke of pity and empathy, carrying herself like a fighter, but there was a certain sadness behind her eyes as well. The tom almost wanted to comfort her, but knew he would be clawed if he did. Sparrowpaw stepped forward to give the tom the life of Empathy, eyes determined but deep with emotion. It racked the deputy with every feeling in the forest; pain, joy, anger, fear. He felt it all, and it hit him. Empathy was not glorious or sweet, it was difficult, and hard. But the tom vowed to wield it well, to spare all future cats with a life such as Sparrowpaw’s.
The next cat to emerge was a ginger tom, stocky with rippling muscles and a silver tongue. As he spoke, Finchbreeze was reminded of Starlord and Flintpaw, two toms who could swoon their way out of a situation, but carried emotions all the same. The warrior introduced himself as Ryeheart, and spoke of a long ago tyranny that racked the forest. Ryeheart revealed that it was he, himself who was responsible for stopping it, and Finchbreeze felt humbled once again. A savior of the forest at his leader ceremony, coming to wish a life upon him. It was surreal. But Ryeheart had made mistakes too, and speaking of them seemed to darken his eyes. He granted Finchbreeze the life of Bravery, touching his nose to the tom’s. This life was not one of pain, but one of roaring power. The muscles beneath Finchbreeze’s pelt seemed to flex and harden with every jolt of power, he felt as if he could fight a bear. Wise words were shared, and then Ryeheart returned to his position among the StarClan warriors.
Next to step forward was a tom whom Finchbreeze knew well. In fact, only a few sunrises ago had Rabbitfrost given his life to save his deputy’s, throwing himself from a cliff to lure a hungry dog away from the tom. Before Rabbitfrost could speak, Finchbreeze felt his yellow eyes glaze over, and he padded forward to meet the fallen warrior in the middle, dipping his head.
If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be alive right now… Seeing the tom now, free of cuts and bruises was rejuvenating, young Rabbitfrost was healthy, full, and gleaming with the stars. But his life had been cut too short. Finchbreeze swore to himself that he would never let it happen again. No more warriors would die for his sake. Never. It was no coincidence when Rabbitfrost granted the deputy the life of Altruism. A drive to care for all cats, young and old, weak or strong. With this life, Finchbreeze felt as if he was a kit again, feeble and mewling for milk, and then felt himself age, legs growing stronger, muscles forming, until he was an elder, once again frail but wise. Finally, he felt himself slip into the release of death, drifting off to be with his kin. When the sensation faded, it took Finchbreeze a moment to find his paws, to gain awareness again of the life he lead. Rabbitfrost stepped back into the crowd, and Finchbreeze gave him a nod of respect, forever grateful of the tom.
Only two lives remained now, and the deputy stood expectantly in front of the rows of StarClanners, wondering who we would have the privilege of meeting next. But a jolt shot through the tom’s pelt as he was faced with a sight no one could prepare him for. A russet pelt stepped out from the ranks, long fur flowed from the cat’s shoulders, and it carried itself with grace. A stone caught in Finchbreeze’s throat, and his thoughts immediately fell to his mate, whom he thought had merely been lost in the flood.
Brookclover, that can’t be you my dear… But as the cat neared, Finchbreeze recognized that the russet pelt was not that of his mate’s, but one of a tom’s. He had broad shoulders and a sturdy build, carrying himself with dignity. But this was no ordinary warrior, this was Finchbreeze’s stillborn son, given a warrior name, and a warrior’s body in StarClan.
Ryepelt The deputy’s face didn’t shift in expression, but small tears fell silently from his eyes as his son neared. Thoughts of what his life could have been like swam in the deputy’s head. Perhaps seeing his saddened state, Ryepelt stepped forward to give his father the life of Peacefulness. An anger seemed to rip through Finchbreeze, lust for war, pain, and sadness. And then it was replaced by a subtle quiet, a drifting of breeze that seemed to wash his fears away. Finchbreeze touched noses with his son one last time, almost wanting to follow him back to the crowd as he turned away, but another sight kept him rooted to the spot.
A mirror image of Finchbreeze’s self stepped out of the throng next, full grown and shining with stars. This could only be his other lost son, Cricketleap. Finchbreeze remembered well the names Brookclover decided to give their two unborn sons. She wanted to bestow upon them warrior names for the journey ahead. A few more silent tears fell from Finchbreeze’s cheeks as his offspring stepped forward. He was dignified, and mature. Things that could only be wished for in the life of the living. The tom mouthed an apology towards his son, angry that Cricketleap would never get the chance to run through the moors or catch his first prey. But Cricketleap introduced himself instead as Cricketstar, revealing that in his living life, he would have reached the rank of leader. But all of that was stripped away too soon. Cricketstar was determined and touched his nose with his father’s, giving Finchbreeze the life of Perseverance. It felt as if a giant stone had been placed over him, crushing all his wants and desires, all Finchbreeze dreamed of now was darkness, and cared for nothing else. But strength was instilled in his frame, so much that he was able to push through the surrounding gloom. Finchbreeze surfaced again, panting, gazing at his son with glowing eyes. He wished he could cherish his moment forever, to gaze at his offspring once again, in the land of the living. But this life was cruel, and difficult, and one had to be strong to make it through. Finchbreeze vowed to use all of the lives given to him. He would love fiercely, fight bravely, and judge with an open mind. Cricketstar stepped forward, reciting the age old words, stripping Finchbreeze of his old life, and crowning him Finchstar, Leader of WindClan. The surrealism and sense of duty seemed to engulf the tom now, but it was a welcome feeling. He had big paws to fill, but Finchstar wouldn’t fail. He had dozens of commitments now, so many cats watching him, cheering for him. This was his calling. This is what Finchstar was born for. Cricketstar offered him some final words of advice, then lifted his muzzle to cheer with the rest of StarClan. Finchstar! Finchstar! Finchstar! One murmur clung to Finchstar’s mind through the noise…
She is not gone to you yet… Finchstar smiled as StarClan started to fade, the cheering ebbing away.
Brookclover… He thought, awaking to the glowing of the moonstone.
We have quite the adventure ahead of us my dear...Long Live Finchstar!
