Grousepaw's Warrior Ceremony

The Tallrock was vast and distant, stretching high over WindClan's camp. From up here, Finchstar could feel the wind in his fur, he could see even over the gorse bushes that surrounded the clearing. The moors stretched before him, rolling away, hosting beautiful flowers and tall wheatgrass. Brookclover had been buried in this ground. They had held vigil some time ago, and now more sunrises had passed. Finchstar was just as numb and unfeeling, but life continued to march on. He needed to honor his mate's memory, she would have wanted that. Some things in life continued to remind Finchstar of her. The most frequent and solidified being her two apprentices, Grousepaw and Ravenpaw. She had raised the two to be fine warriors, and one had now come of age. "WindClan! Gather beneath the Tallrock, it's time we name a new warrior."

It was not the traditional calling, and Finchstar was not feeling traditional. The leader gave the bright sky a wistful look, wondering if Brookclover was watching her apprentice now. "The flood has taken more from us than we could have ever imagined..." The orange and white tabby mewed quietly, watching as WindClan's warriors and apprentices gathered under the rock. Faces, so many faces. Perhaps this is what they needed. Grousepaw would make a fine warrior, and lift the spirits of the depressed as well.

Grousepaw padded over to Tallrock sullenly. The loss of his mentor weighed heavily in his mind, despite the time that had passed. He couldn't help but blame himself. 'If I had been more efficient at digging. If I had been better she wouldn't have suffered.' Still, he held his head high and proud. Tried to keep other cats from seeing his eyes by distracting them with flicks of his tail or movements so jarring or threatening it would keep them out of his way. 'If I can't protect them, then there is no point in them being close to me.'

He sat down beneath the Tallrock, his gaze directly ahead instead of upwards towards Finchstar. Though his ears were pricked to catch every word. He sat a little farther apart from Ravenpaw. Closer to it to hear better, but not close enough as he felt other cats sit down beside him. With a sigh, he finally looked up. It would be disgraceful if he didn't. If Finchstar made a motion, he wouldn't see it, and the effectiveness of the communication would break down. A situation he was decidedly not okay with.

Grousepaw as well as the rest of WindClan gathered into the clearing. Finchstar watched their faces too, and noticed as some lacked the hopeful expression the rest carried. Brindlestar's son was one of the afflicted, but he hid it well. Finchstar would not have noticed his turmoil had he himself not been bathing in it for the past few sunrises. It was easy to see those hurt when he was hurt himself.

But Brookclover would have wanted him to bring hope to the clan. It was perhaps his most difficult task yet, bringing light to a clan when he himself possessed none. Grousepaw would be a beacon. Brookclover's apprentice, now strong. Finchstar hoped the emotions of his clanmates would rise just as well. "Grousepaw, please step forward." The leader mewed, head held low. "You have lost many close to you, your mother, your mentor, and several other clanmates whose names will dance among the stars." Finchstar let out a heavy sigh, loneliness tugging at his heart. He wondered if Brookclover was watching. She had trained up a fine apprentice. "Yet you stand tall despite the tragedy, I admire you, friend. It's time you become a warrior."

'Thanks for the reminders.' The thought was bitter in Grousepaw's mind as he stepped forward. His blue gaze flicked to the side, seeking a cat he knew wouldn't be there, before he lifted his head high once more. Finchstar's words of admiration weren't dismissed as he rose willingly to meet them. Since the death, he chose to not connect with other cats. If he didn't allow them to get close, then they couldn't hurt him.

It was flawless logic... but not the best decision. He could tell some cats probably didn't care since it wasn't their ceremony, but they could be doing better things with their time anyways. He wouldn't have blamed them for it.
"Thank you for your words, Finchstar... but respectfully..." 'Get on with it.' His mind continued as he made a small gesture by tilting his head. Unwilling to be disrespectful, yet also not wanting to drag it out too far as he responded to the typical ceremonial words.

"WindClan! Gather beneath the Tallrock, it's time we name a new warrior."

The summon was unfamiliar, unlike any that WindClan had likely heard, yet Barleytuft moved to follow it without hesitation. He still felt groggy and stunned by the catastrophe a few days before, but death had always been part of life. The Clan always carried on even when they faced loss. He was no different; the warrior may have lost an apprentice, and a friend, but his Clanmates had also lost their mentor, their mate, their role model. They had all suffered. That didn't change their duties. After all, if they ceased to fulfill their warrior duties then more cats would be lost. What point was there in needless suffering? The pale tabby tom settled beneath the Highrock, his eyes flickering through the crowd to examine the apprentices.

Then, Grousepaw was called to step forward. Barleytuft's ears perked and his dark hazel eyes settled on his Clanmate - his dead friend's former apprentice. Ghostly echoes of the stoic silver tom's anguished pleas when they had unburied Brookclover and Finchstar's bodies sounded in the warrior's mind and his eyes became glassy with haunted memories. Grousepaw had done everything he ever could to live up to his mentor's expectations and to become the best he could be for the Clan and himself, yet nothing anyone could do had been enough to save his teacher. Grousepaw's face reflected that pain too, and he seemed uninterested in sharing words.

Finchstar's words were true, but he felt empty, conducting his second ceremony as leader. It was nothing like the first. With Deerhawk, they stood amongst the mountains, hope in their blood ever still. Yet here Grousepaw stood, and they had reached the end. WindClan was home, life marched on. She was gone, but there was no more uncertainty.

The WindClan apprentice gestured to finish the ceremony, and Finchstar wondered if they all felt the same. It was hard to stand starkly out in the elements when their hearts were broken. Or perhaps WindClan's leader was just a big sap. "I, Finchstar, leader of WindClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him as a warrior to you in return." He wondered if the fallen were watching. Perhaps they were proud of Grousepaw, or maybe they were bitter for life going on without them. Brookclover would not be bitter... Finchstar thought to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. My dear, you continue to amaze me, even in death. "Grousepaw, to you promise to uphold the code, and protect and defend your clan, even at the cost of your life?"

'What kind of question is that?' Grousepaw groused in his mind bitterly.
"I do." The words spoken held less bitterness than his mind did. Wondering what could be so effecient about this entire affair that couldn't just be solved by a simple. 'Grousepaw is a warrior now. Cheer and hunt.' As he let out a soft huff of air, his posture stayed straight, his mind going back to the beginning of his training. When Brookclover was running with him over the snow.

Bonds were unnessecary. They distracted... the ache in his chest was simply a massive distraction from the tasks he would have been doing if not for this ceremony. It deepened, knowing his mother would never see this. No matter how hard he fought to make her proud... he'd never get to see her until he joined StarClan, and he wasn't willing to let that be soon. Still, he peered a little higher, above Finchstar towards the clouds that drifted by and the stars that would shine once the sun fell.

'Mother... are you proud of me?'

Another apprentice, grown. Finchstar remembered when he himself had first spoke those two words, and they held more gravity then he thought they would. The leader wondered if Grousepaw felt the same. He was proud of him, and with one last sacred oath of tradition, he had sealed the apprentice's fate. "Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Grousepaw, from this moment forward, you will be known as Grousefrost. StarClan honors your confidence, and efficient nature. I am proud to welcome you as a full warrior of WindClan, she is as well."

Finchstar didn't quite know who he meant. Perhaps Brookclover, perhaps Brindlestar. Each of the fallen were watching now, it wasn't revitalizing, but it was a comfort nonetheless. Giving Brookclover's apprentice his warrior name felt like the end of an era. Even in death, his mate continued to succeed. Finchstar strived to do the same in life. Feeling trapped in his thoughts, he released the tension by jumping down from the Tallrock, meeting his clanmates at the base and shouting; "Grousefrost! Grousefrost! Grousefrost!"