Lightpaw's Moonstone Journey

The early morning air was damp; it must have rained the night before, if the scent of the air could be trusted. Amberdawn spent a few minutes grooming herself and gathering her thoughts. Today she was going to be taking one of Firflower's youngest kits on their Moonstone journey. They'd been born and raised partly while the Clans had been separated in the mountains. She couldn't imagine what sort of strange life they'd been exposed to in their younger days, but she'd witnessed some of it with their various mishaps. Yes, that litter was fairly well known in the medicine cats' den. After a while the young she-cat gathered the traveling herbs, saddened by how thinly she had to ration them - though no one had withered away on their journey yet - as she bundled them up for Lightpaw's use.

The golden tabby picked up the two packets gently in her teeth before padding out of her den. As she has suspected, it rained, and the camp's clearing was glimmering with dew that would likely be dried by the time sun-high rolled around. Amberdawn searched for Lightpaw, wondering if he had awakened already or if she might have to wake him. They had a little time to spare.

Lightpaw had spent much of the night awake, alternating between a rain-induced calm and an anxiety that chewed at his gut like crowfood. He’d been nervous about the Moonstone since he’d heard its name tossed about in the apprentices’ den late one evening. That he was about to make his own journey there meant Tinystar was still considering him for warriorhood (not this moon, surely, though it didn’t bother Lightpaw much as long as he received his full name eventually), but the mystery of it all prevented Lightpaw from feeling relieved. He knew their destination, and he knew StarClan was involved. He'd tried to make things right, but there was no telling whether StarClan, too, had accepted his apology. As if that wasn’t enough, Maplepaw hadn’t come back from the Gathering…

If one’s Moonstone was as important as its name suggested, he needed to give the journey his full attention. Until it was over, his worries could wait.

Shortly after he emerged from the den, a golden pelt caught his eye, and he padded across the camp to stand before Amberdawn. ”Amberdawn. Good morning.” Lightpaw bowed his head politely and rose with a tentative smile. He'd gotten quite familiar with Amberdawn's face, but it was still odd to talk to her outside the medicine den. She was holding two bundles of what could only be herbs; remembering what else he'd overheard, he eyed them with faint skepticism. "Is it time to leave?"

Only a few moments of light searching had passed before the medicine cat apprentice spotted Lightpaw emerging from the apprentices' den. Amberdawn stopped and raised her tail in a beckoning greeting, watching with a warm expression as the timid young tom made his way over to her. He greeted her kindly enough, and his eyes, like the eyes of so many other apprentices before, immediately fixed on the bundles of herbs she carried. He asked her a question and she set down the herb bundles.

"Just about," Amberdawn purred. "We have to cross the entire forest to get to Highstones, but we aren't allowed to eat fresh-kill before presenting ourselves to StarClan. These herbs will help keep us strong until our journey's over." The medicine cat slid one of the packets towards the apprentice. "I know everyone says they taste bad, but, well, I don't think they're the worst... They taste better than an empty stomach to me." She chuckled a little at herself before gesturing for Lightpaw to eat. She lapped up her own with ease and waited patiently for her companion to do the same.

Crossing the entire forest again wasn’t the most appealing idea. He remembered how long and dreary it had been before. But now he was warrior-sized, there were no dog- or Sharptooth-related fatalities on everyone’s mind, and most different of all, he was doing it alone. Without his family, anyway. He’d come to trust Amberdawn during his time under her care, but that didn’t make her anything like Firflower or his littermates. Whether those things would make the trip easier or harder remained to be seen.

Lightpaw sniffed the packet. No number of days in the medicine den could teach him which herbs were which. The most he could tell was they didn’t smell like what he’d been given. All the same, he braced for bitterness—wisely, as it turned out. He ducked his head to hide how his mouth twisted at the taste, but continued to eat without complaint until the herbs were gone.

With that over, the apprentice looked toward Amberdawn again. His nerves showed on his face, and he knew it. ”Amberdawn? I…” Lightpaw hesitated, pawing aimlessly at the dirt. ”I know we need to hurry, but I have a question.” In truth, he had several, but they were already running out of time, and he didn’t want to keep SkyClan’s remaining medicine cat occupied any longer than he needed to, even if it meant arriving at Highstones less prepared than he would have liked. What if something happened while they were gone? At that thought, he regretted speaking up at all, but it was too late now. ”Do I have to meet StarClan alone?"

With as much experience as she'd gained swallowing the herbs by this point, Amberdawn wasn't surprised that she finished her share much quicker than Lightpaw had. He had turned his face away in a gesture that the medicine cat knew well: he was displeased by the taste and didn't want to make a big deal about it. She was glad to allow him that dignity, and she casually looked elsewhere while he finished his medicine. Amberdawn looked back at him when he spoke her name, hesitantly trailing off.

"Yes, Lightpaw?" the golden tabby responded gently, curiosity in her expression. She saw him fidgeting in place, agitated for some reason or another. Another moment of hesitation passed before at last Lightpaw asked, "Do I have to meet StarClan alone?" Amberdawn's shoulder slumped slightly, and she answered, "It isn't a guarantee, but... it is the most likely. I know that oftentimes medicine cats can guide their leaders in dreams at the Moonstone... I bet Mintwhisker would know." She looked at him with a curious smile and asked, "Are you worried about seeing them?"

As gently as the medicine cat had worded her answer, Lightpaw seemed to wilt somewhat. Even Amberdawn’s companionship would have been a comfort, but Lightpaw was no leader; when he faced whatever judgment awaited him, no one would be at his side. There would be no protection, no guidance, nothing between him and the stars. A hundred questions new and old spiraled around in his head. We’re already late, he told himself.

”Well…they’re our ancestors,” Lightpaw said with a slight, jerky shrug, a “yes” in too many words. He doubted he was the first anxious apprentice Amberdawn had dealt with; that thought offered no consolation whatsoever. At least it wasn’t Mintwhisker seeing this. He respected the older medicine cat, but he didn’t know her well enough to be so open about his worries. ”What if they’re angry with me?” The circumstances surrounding the injury that had landed him in the medicine den weren’t as much a secret as Lightpaw wished; he couldn't deliver Mosspaw's message without revealing the details to Amberdawn. Setting aside the main problem, there was the issue of trespassing. It may have happened after the battle had started, but he'd done so without a hint of a second thought. Was StarClan that strict? The pale tabby shook his head, briefly dislodging that particular set of worries. "I'm sorry. We can go."

Amberdawn wished that she had a better answer to give Lightpaw. Truthfully, she'd love to walk in the dreams of the apprentices that she escorted to the Moonstone. She hadn't ever had her own journey, though she met with StarClan nearly every moon in one aspect or another, and she often found herself wishing she could know what they dreamed. On this journey, more than any other before, that wish was strong, for Lightpaw was clearly troubled by her response and the fact that she would be unable to walk with him. Since Amberdawn had grown up speaking to them, she had sort of forgotten that her heavenly ancestors might seem intangible and even frightening to some. They could be, when they wanted to be, but now certainly wasn't the time.

The medicine cat's face softened with sympathy as Lightpaw voiced his fears. Before she could reply, the tom shook his head and apologized, looking for some way out of the conversation. Amberdawn reached her face over to gently nuzzle his shoulder before stepping back with an understanding smile. "You're a good cat, Lightpaw; you aren't the first apprentice to get in a border skirmish. StarClan visits to grant wisdom, not punishments. You have no reason to be afraid." Still, she was willing to drop it then as he desired, so she stood and turned to exit camp, leading the way through the underbrush that sparkled with dew and leftover rain water.

---

The journey was a bit slippery in some places, but overall it was peaceful. The birds had sang for their entire journey, only starting to grow silent as the sun began to dip behind Highstones. The pair arrived at Highstones as the moon was beginning to rise. Amberdawn turned to look to her traveling partner, wondering if he had been able to expend any of his nervous energy on their trip. "It's a beautiful night," Amberdawn purred as they neared the Mothermouth. "The moon's bright and ready to lead you to your dreams. I won't be able to dream with you, but I will be right beside you when you awaken - I promise."

Lightpaw straightened up at the contact, finally looking at the golden tabby after she withdrew. Her smile was as reassuring as her words. Real as he knew them to be, his concerns sounded kittish to his own ears, but Amberdawn had taken them seriously without pause. He considered what she’d said for a long moment. Technically, he wasn’t even the first apprentice in his family to get into a border skirmish. The rest…until he met StarClan face to face, he would trust she was telling the truth. Surely she knew them better than he would in his lifetime.

She had let him drop the subject. Still, he managed a quick ”Thanks, Amberdawn,” before picking up his paws and following her out of camp.

---

The second trip across the forest was easier than the first. Part of that was from the herbs, he was certain; the rest was simply a matter of his steps being larger and his pads being tougher. Walking alongside Amberdawn, despite the knowledge that she couldn’t follow him into his dream, helped him focus on birdsong and the drying ground beneath him as it changed with the territories. As they neared Highstones, Lightpaw’s thoughts turned to his friend, Burningpaw. She’d been apprenticed only shortly before him, so her own journey here couldn’t be too far away. How would she feel about getting to see mountains again? These weren’t the mountains he and Burningpaw had grown up in, of course—he would never see those peaks or the cats who occupied them again—but he imagined she’d still be happy for the reminder.

Then the Mothermouth loomed. The reason he was here struck Lightpaw anew, and he caught himself lagging behind his traveling companion. After sparing the moon a glance, he hurried forward. "It really is pretty." With only the mountains to obstruct his view, the stars were more visible than ever. He wished he could enjoy it; back home, he so rarely felt as if he could waste time getting lost in his surroundings. Lightpaw considered the sky, newly dark and twinkling. ”I think I'm ready, too."

The medicine cat hadn't quite realized when her partner lagged behind; she only became aware when she heard his voice from a bit further back. Amberdawn looked at him curiously, noting the somewhat wistful and longing expression on his face. What did Lightpaw think when he saw the mountains? He and his littermates had been conceived and born there, up among the snow and boulders in the Tribe. Highstones was much smaller than those mountains - apparently - and much closer, but Amberdawn imagined that the sight likely took him back to his younger days, young though he currently was. Did it bring him comfort, or unease? He was affected in some way, whatever way it might be. She hoped it wasn't fear like he'd felt earlier, but the sparkle in his eyes somehow suggested otherwise, and at last he voiced quiet approval.

Amberdawn smiled to herself and nodded, leading the way down into the dark tunnel. They walked in silence for what always felt like ages before suddenly they padded into a tall, glittering cavern illuminated by the Moonstone's great light. She turned to Lightpaw and murmured, "Touch your nose to the Moonstone and you'll begin to dream. I'll be right here." She crouched beside him and gazed serenely into the light of the holy stone.

Into the Mothermouth they went. Darkness wrapped around them, accompanied by a persistent chill that could have been Lightpaw’s imagination. He had no idea what he could say to break the silence or if he was allowed to talk here at all, so he followed Amberdawn down the path without comment, looking down to avoid any rocks that might cut his pads. Somehow that comforted him. He’d spent much of his life learning to step carefully. It was such an ordinary routine that he could almost pretend this was just a new sort of patrol, and he wasn’t moments from meeting his ancestors.

Too soon, the tunnel widened into a cavern. Before them—before him—stood what was unmistakably the Moonstone, casting its icy glow across fur and rock. Lightpaw swallowed. His mouth had gone dry. At Amberdawn's instructions, he shuffled forward as one might sneak up on a mouse, hardly lifting his paws, and lowered himself to the ground beside the Moonstone. As he stared into the light, one thought rose above the rest: I’m not ready. But if StarClan didn’t speak to him by sunup, this whole journey would be a waste. He would not allow that.

Amberdawn would be here when he woke. Then he could go back to SkyClan. His mother, Burningpaw, his brothers…however many troubles awaited him, he longed to be among them now. Willing his body to be still, the pale tabby pressed his nose against the cool stone and was asleep within two breaths.

It seemed like so long since the little black and white tom had even thought of the living realm down below. Only pressing from the former leader and his father, Rippedstar, who was usually rather distant himself in the afterlife, had persuaded the warrior to meet with this apprentice. Matters of blood and honor had never much mattered to Mumblefoot. It was ideas of life and death and fear which had driven him throughout his life time. The pressure of warriorhood made so much greater by having the Skyclan leader as his father. Over time, that had all become so trivial. And in Starclan, none of it mattered anyways. As saddened as he had been to watch the lives of his beloved family pass and join the ranks of the ancestors, being able to be with them for eternity was not a bad option. Poplarstar and him had all the time in the world together. And Drizzlepaw and Echoflame were here with them too. It would have been, and had been, so easy to content himself with this life. Nothing tried to kill them here.

When the young tom from Skyclan arrived, he had to pry himself from his mate's side with much difficulty. He almost begged the other ancestors for some reason to bring the other tom with him. But the was not the way things were done. Somehow it seemed anxiety found him in death too. How convenient. The star-coated black and white Skyclanner made his way towards Lightpaw. There was curiosity in amber-orange gaze as he looked over the tom for a moment before beginning to approach. Even in his ignorant state, Mumblefoot knew of the circumstances within Skyclan. And he knew of the particular predicament of these kits too. One of the loner father's other late kits, who also resides among the stars, had chosen to reveal their true heritage to one of the brothers. Conflict of blood alliances was something he knew little of, personally. But it was family that had brought him to speak with Lightpaw. Hopefully his words would help guide the young cat were fate to decide he was ready to hear the truth. Mumblefoot had been lost in life due to his fear, the fear of the world, and what might happen to his kin. Lightpaw might have to consider matters like life without his kin, and where his true allegiances lie.

Mumblefoot padded forward, dipping his head in a greeting to the younger cat. He stood as he addressed the apprentice and offered a warm smile in greeting, "H-hello, my name is Mumblefoot. I was once a warrior of Skyclan before dogs took the life of me and my father. You might not have heard my name before because I'm not a very special warrior, even if Poplarstar tries to say I am... but I do have some wisdom for you still." The small statured tom would have flicked his tail nervously, if he had one, so he settled instead for flicking his ears, a habit that he had picked up in life. His eyes looked over Lightpaw, a tom who mostly bore his mother's looks. Would it be easy to understand that even if their coats matched, there was something else that was a part of his very being? A part of him that bore no true alliance to his clan or to the code? He'd thought about what he would do upon finding out he was part rogue. His father bearing the blood of Windclan was different. By the time Mumblefoot and his sister had been born, Rippedstar was the leader of the clan and just as thoroughly Skyclan as the next cat. There wasn't much thought to be put into the ordeal.

As he thought for a moment, there was a pause. An awkward silence between the pair of them. But Mumblefoot, who had been hyper-vigilant in life, quickly remembered his position and broke the silence, "You need to know, Lightpaw, that your family is something that cannot be taken away. When titles and clans are stripped away, the blood of your kin still runs strong. Don't forget that. Remember who you're fighting for and who really matters because at the end of the day, Skyclan is simply just the place you reside." It sounded harsh, putting it like that. But Skyclan really was just a place to call home, it always had been. Skyclan was his home, that was true, but the same could be said of any other clan cat and their own camps. It was the cats there, the kin, who made it that way. Regardless of what internal conflict was to befall the apprentice, he needed to know that following his kin and staying with his family would guide him further than just an allegiance to Skyclan. He dipped his head in a farewell. The time was short but Lightpaw had places to go, and a warrior name to earn. So without another word, Mumblefoot turned away, ready to return to his nest with Poplarstar. And the starry other world faded from around his paws.

It was the oddest thing, but—Lightpaw felt the world shift. As if he was hot on a mouse’s trail and, abruptly, the territory fell out from under him. In a blink, he went from no awareness to too much awareness. A strange scent, like flowers and leaves and ice all at once, drifted into his nose; soft dirt cushioned his paws, so unlike the hard, cold stone he’d fallen asleep on. Instinctively, he knew it was StarClan, but he kept his eyes tightly shut as if any movement, however small, might break the spell and wake him. Then he had a terrible, fleeting thought: What if Maplepaw was here? Suddenly, his worries that it might be too soon to look didn’t matter. It couldn’t be her, but he wouldn’t know for sure unless—

And so Lightpaw opened his eyes. Relief hit him like a blow to the chest. The cat before him—a small tom, black and white, tailless—was certainly not Maplepaw. This didn’t mean that Maplepaw wasn’t dead (for what advice could she possibly give him?), nor could he be sure she hadn’t gotten herself into trouble yet again…but there was hope. In the face of that fact, all of his fears about StarClan’s judgment were washed clean out of his head. He blinked until his vision cleared, for once utterly unashamed. StarClan knew everything, or almost everything; they would understand.

The StarClanner introduced himself as Mumblefoot, a former SkyClan warrior. A SkyClanner to advise a SkyClanner. At the mention of dogs, Lightpaw’s mouth flattened. Though the battle in the mountains grew further away with every sunrise, he remembered all too clearly the howls and gnashing fangs. Even without the Sharptooth, the dogs had posed a threat; any one of them could break a cat in its jaws.

As Mumblefoot went on, the fear came crawling back. Any minute now, that smile would vanish; any minute, the stars would judge Lightpaw again. What about Mosspaw? he wanted to yowl. What about trespassing? No matter how insistent he’d been on making reparations with Mosspaw, he had still made a horrible misstep; furthermore, he hadn’t heeded Leaftwirl’s command to stop. By starlight, it seemed as if the scars on his throat shone brighter than ever. But Amberdawn had been right; the punishment did not come. Perhaps StarClan thought he had learned his lesson.

There was a brief pause. Lightpaw straightened up, tail curling around his paws. It didn’t matter that Mumblefoot wasn’t special (in fact, it was almost nice); by those standards, Lightpaw wouldn’t call himself special, either. He lacked a gift for medicine, not that he’d ever tried, and his charismatic siblings would all make better leaders than he could ever dream to be. Every trait he possessed, a hundred SkyClan warriors had held before. To receive StarClan’s wisdom was an honor regardless of the vessel they chose.

With his previous expectations dashed, he would have been surprised by Mumblefoot’s next words no matter what they were, but the last thing Lightpaw had expected was to hear about family. In the mountains (and for a frankly embarrassing amount of time afterward), he’d had his family and no one else; his littermates and his mother were his only friends. During the battle, if it hadn’t been for Night and the strange she-cat’s intervention, Lightpaw would have faced that dog to buy Maplepaw a pawful of seconds. He knew well how important it was. But Mumblefoot had more to say.

Since Lightpaw’s birth, he had known SkyClan to be where he belonged. The shape of their territory didn’t matter; like Burningpaw, he missed many parts of his birthplace, but he had managed to adjust because it was simply what he needed to do. Mumblefoot said something similar—except, from the sound of it, SkyClan was the old territory he would leave behind. There was truth to it; Lightpaw doubted he could have adjusted to forest life if it hadn’t been for Firflower’s support and his siblings’ insistence on finding out all they could about their surroundings. Even in the in-between period, he’d had a home.

SkyClan, however, was more important. That had been drilled into his head during his training. A warrior’s work was for their Clan’s betterment, whatever the cost. No one could earn their full name without taking that oath before their Clanmates and every star in Silverpelt. And Mumblefoot, one of those very stars, was telling him that something else meant more.

When he wasn’t good enough for his Clan—when he got careless and startled off all the prey in the middle of a hunting patrol; when he couldn’t climb more than a tail-length before his heart froze and his legs shook; when he harmed the wrong cat and came back in tatters—Firflower still let him bury his face in her pelt. Sandpaw and Swallowpaw treated him no differently. Maplepaw, wherever she was, would almost certainly make puns at him with her usual enthusiasm no matter how badly he had failed her.

”At the end of the day, SkyClan is simply just the place you reside.”

Rising on legs less steady he would ever admit, Lightpaw bowed his head to the departing Mumblefoot, and the world sank once more.

---

His return to consciousness was as jarring as waking up in StarClan had been. The aches and pains in his scars and legs came rushing back, accompanied by the frigid air of the cavern. Lightpaw squinted until he identified a blurry golden pelt beside him. Just as she’d promised, Amberdawn was there. They didn’t yell at me seemed a kittish thing to say, so he held his tongue, his expression showing all the feelings he refused to voice—relief, confusion, an eagerness to return to the rocks and trees of a world he understood. He wanted to ask Amberdawn to explain what he'd heard, but Mumblefoot's words had been more than plain enough. The issue lay with what they meant for him. Whether he liked it or not, that was something only Lightpaw could decide.

"Remember who you’re fighting for."

Lightpaw stood, stretching until he'd forced most of the stiffness out of his limbs. Knowing the journey home (whatever that meant; for now, both options were one and the same) would be less nerve-wracking than the trip here made him almost excited for it. Maybe he'd get a chance to see the moon again.