Marshstorm's Leader Ceremony

Marshstorm padded to the medicine den in silence. It was time to leave for the moonstone, but concern still weighed heavily in his mind. Sadness clung to his chest as he looked down at the noble soon-to-be-former leader. He took a deep breath, then looked towards Pricklebush.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, then looked towards the bundle of travelling herbs. His nose scrunched, but he ate the awful things. Hoping the bitter taste would leave sooner rather than later. Though it wasn’t likely he’d focus on it as they made their way towards Highstones. Words on his chest that felt like they needed to be expressed.

"I know you may not approve of Beartooth. I realise you’ve both had your issues… but Pricklebush." He paused, looking at the younger tom with eyes more pleading than demanding. "I need you both. You are fine cats, raised by one of the best warriors I’ve ever known. I know Blizzardshine would be proud of you, for what you’ve achieved so far." He paused, remembering Ridgelight with faded anger that was now more sorrowful than hateful. "Beartooth is a good tom. I implore you, to set your grievances aside… and give him a chance to redeem himself to you."

Pricklebush was trying not to think about what he was doing. That made it a little easier. His mother had once been leader of ThunderClan, before she stepped down and had kits. Had him. But for as long as he could remember, Leopardstar had been leading the Clan. Now... Marshstorm was going to be taking over. And he really wasn't sure how he felt about that. So he was trying not to feel anything. The tom methodically, almost mechanically, grabbed the traveling herb bundles, swallowed a bitter mouthful of his own, then gave a bundle to the deputy- no. To the future leader. He blinked once, slowly, controlling himself, then shook out his pelt and began wordlessly to leave the den in response to Marshstorm's query.

But then, the tom began speaking to him. Once the word "Beartooth" passed his lips, Pricklebush didn't show any obvious change in expression, but his eyes narrowed a tiny bit and his shoulders tightened. Who did this tom think he was, trying to meddle in his personal life? Trying to tell him whether Blizzardshine would be proud? Offering him empty praise after what he had done? He'd been there, the day that he returned with Beepaw's waterlogged dead body, told them what had happened when they refused to believe him. He'd watched the tom maim other cats, had mentored him personally. He'd even known about Ridgelight. And yet, of all the worthy cats in the Clan, Marshstorm had made the physically and emotionally deformed tom the new deputy of ThunderClan. That was not a fact that he liked to be reminded of. But here he was, being scolded like some kit having an unreasonable argument. But this was no unreasonable argument. It was a blood feud, that he would hold onto until the day he died. That tom would have no kindness nor mercy from him, and never would. Rather than expressing the wild and raging thoughts in his head, Pricklebush just turned to face the deputy, giving him a withering sage-green glare that would have pierced right through a more easily scared cat's heart. But in his eyes was not only cold anger and disappointment, but an unfathomable sadness at the reminder of everything the tom had taken away from him. "No," he almost growled, shortly and simply, then whirled around and began walking to Highstones. He didn't say another word for the rest of the journey.

The anger in Pricklebush’s gaze did not escape Marshstorm as they padded towards Highstones. His gaze turning towards the mountains ahead of them, lost in thought. Beartooth was the right choice, he knew it… but the bad blood between him and Pricklebush was strong. The one word answer told him everything he needed to know.

His medicine cat disapproved. He was willingly acting against the medicine cat’s wishes, but what choice did he have? Ferretnose and Bushgaze were far too young. Dustcloud was his mate, but his mind turned back to their conversation not long ago, when she confessed her exhaustion. It wouldn’t have been fair to thrust it to a cat closer to their age. Beartooth, for all his physical appearance, was a tom he trusted.

One he trained. He understood him well, and despite the mistake he made with his mate, worked hard. He was dependable and trustworthy as any other warrior. He lifted his head to stare at Pricklebush, only just realising that they had reached mothermouth as the prickly tail vanished into the ground. Slowly, Marshstorm followed. His whiskers guiding him easily in the dark with each careful pawstep until they reached the moonstone.

It shone in the dark. Bright and glistening as the sunlight reflecting off dew. The large glowing stone filled the otherwise dark cavern with light, and Marshstorm took the sight in with a deep breath. Nervous tension in his paws.

It was time.

He looked at Pricklebush one final time before padding forward and settling down comfortably in front of it, pressing his nose to the cold stone. A jolt crawling down his spine as he felt consciousness slip away into darkness.

---

When his eyes opened, a starry landscape he had only seen once before filled his vision. Silver grasses weaved in a gentle breeze as large massive trees rustled overhead. Shimmering like a wholly new starscape. His amber eyes were a stark glow of colour amidst the scenery for a moment, until he saw various starry pelts step out of the shining landscape before him.

Some of them were painfully familiar. Especially the silver bengal, who padded forward with icy blue eyes that he could never forget. Eyes he had desperately wanted to see as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. Tears sprung unhidden from his eyes as he leapt forward to greet her. His head pressing against her pelt to smell a scent he hadn’t known since kithood. His own mother.

He pulled back with extreme reluctance as she returned the embrace, watching as her gaze seemed so dark and longing as his own for a long moment.
"Mother… I… " he paused, for once in a long time, uncertain what to say as he heard the loudness of her purr. Those eyes he remembered so distantly practically glowing with pride and affection.
“Marshstorm… I am so proud of you…” He felt his chest puff out even as his eyes watched hers tangle with grief and regret. His own filling with regret at the knowledge that he hadn’t been there for his family as much as he wished he could have been. If the twolegs hadn’t stolen him away… he would have stayed with them. “I am so proud of you. Of what you have become, and your beautiful family.” She stepped forward, and he felt his head duck instinctively out of respect.

“With this life… I give you love. May your heart be strong, and your love everlasting for all of your clan and family.” Marshstorm felt a brief nudge of her nose, then a flash of warmth as it flooded through him. Covering every inch of his pelt, heart swelling with every beat. Love so overwhelming that he felt dazed by it. Remembering every breath he’d had with her in a singular moment. Familiar and longing as he opened his eyes to see her gone from before him. Behind the line as another familiar pelt stepped forward.

The long furred grey she-cat was so achingly familiar as when he left. She seemed not to have aged, and it pained him to realise she must have met StarClan so much earlier than she should have.
“Well you’ve gotten big haven’t you?” The tone of her voice was soft and sweet. Reminding Marshstorm of a gentle rainfall.
"Puddlepaw..." he felt his voice crack as she smiled cheekily at him. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” A soft chuff of laughter rose from Marshstorm’s throat as her familiar attitude came through. Her nose thrust towards his face as he lowered his head to meet hers more evenly.

“With this life, I give you hope. So that even in the darkest of hours, your belief will not fade...” He felt doubt flood through him then. Searing in from the tip of her nose, overwhelming and terrifying, then slowly a warmth. Soothing and searing as it burned away the doubt in a white fire doubly as painful as suspicion and doubt doubled down and conviction cemented itself firmly into his mind to banish them. His eyes reopened to see her blue eyes in front of him with a small smile. “Thank you… for coming home brother.”

He felt himself nearly weep as she padded away. His paws taking a singular step towards her until a dark shape revealed itself from the shadows. He looked down at his paws in quiet respect to the former leader. Thrushstar, the tom who had been the one to lead ShadowClan when he was born. The one who accepted the half-blood kits, even after they had been so foolish as to wander away as kits in search of their real father.

Thrushtripe padded forward, a rather calm expression filling his soft eyes and grayed muzzle. He watched Marshstorm for a moment, his tail flicking back and forth. “I see you have found your home, Marshstorm,” he said, his voice just as commanding and confident as ever. “I can't say I was pleased with your… transition, but," he took a deep breath. “You have proven yourself. But you have a lot of learning to do. You will be pushed harder than you've ever been pushed before -- to levels you never thought possible.” Thrushstripe paused for a moment, letting the younger tom take in the information.

“With this life, I give you perseverance,” he said. “To live through the easy moments and to survive and push forward through the difficult ones. Keep your wits about you, Marshstorm.” Padding forward again, Thrushstripe touched noses with the future leader before stepping back and disappearing into the crowd stars.

Marshstorm dipped his head politely to the former leader. He took the soft chiding for what it was, but didn’t regret it. He could never regret it… he’d have never fit back into the ShadowClan that he had returned to. When he lifted it, listening to the life that was coming, he squared his shoulders against the emotions that surged through him when their noses touched. The painful amount of joy in making it through a hard time, and the agonising depths that he might fall…  that made him dreading to look back up. His muscles ached, weary and exhausted as a flaming orange tom stepped forward to stand before him. He didn’t know him well, but he remembered the kind hearted tom. Who’s spark seemed inextinguishable even in the face of death.

"[color:b3e6=#7531Oc]Greetings, Marshstorm." He greeted with a cordial dip of his head. Marshstorm felt guilt in his chest as he lifted his head.
"Featherheart… I… I am so sorry about your mother..." Featherheart tilted his head. Then shook it with a deep throaty chuckle.
"[color:b3e6=#7531Oc]No Marshstorm, don’t be sorry. She made her decision. Sometimes, we all have to make choices that are hard. But that is her life to give you, not mine..." Marshstorm felt his eyes widen as Featherheart thrust out his nose before the question could be uttered. "[color:b3e6=#7531Oc]I give you the life of kindness. I know already how open and kind your heart is. Keep it open, but don’t be afraid to stand up for your beliefs. Kindness alone, does not always prevail." The warning was ominous as the sensation of emotions flooding through overtook Marshstorm once more. He felt almost as if he was being washed away by some torrential flood as joy turned to grief, and overwhelming kindness slowly filtered through to chase away the pain as he remembered how painful it was to let go.

Marshstorm’s eyes opened to see a familiar tabby padding up towards him. What wasn’t familiar was her body’s achingly poor condition. He felt grief over it. This was the she-cat that had saved Batbite and Lynxtail. One whom had once lived among the clan as Sharptooth… and she looked like this? It hurt him greatly to see, but as he was about to speak, he found himself interrupted.

It was said that once a cat ascended to the stars, their form was permanently reverted to the time when they were happiest. It was one of the many blessings that warriors of Starclan received when they died.
It was said that once they died a warrior’s death, every cat became the best version of themselves.

Sharptooth had not.
Instead of becoming a young warrior again, happy and untainted by famine, loss, and war, she’d remained in the same state she had been in at the time of her death. Her fur, thin and coarse from moons of malnourishment, remained hopelessly tangled and stained with moons of blood and slime. Her dull green eyes were watery, her ears were so tattered that they looked more like leaves shredded by kits rather than ears, and her body was covered in faded and fresh scars alike.
Some Starclanners assured Sharptooth that change would come in time. Others seemed to think that she would be forced to remain in this state permanently, much like a Dark Forest cat. Many cats refused to speak to her at all and instead brushed past her, avoiding her gaze.
Sharptooth didn't mind their silence any more than she cared about her appearance. The former Thunderclanner was just glad that she would be able to watch her clan grow and prosper, even though it was from afar. She'd knew that she'd gladly face that diseased creature again if it meant that she could spend another moment with her clanmates, whether physically or in spirit.

The grizzled she-cat was surprised to say the least when she discovered that she would be one of the eight cats to gift Marshstorm a life. The ceremony was sacred, an ancient tradition reaching back to the Tribe days, and before.
She wondered if he would even accept the life she would give him. Like the other Thunderclan cats, he’d condemned her during her trial and cast her out of her former home, seemingly without a second thought.
His actions were justified, but that didn’t make it any easier to face him.

When it was her turn to speak, the large she-cat stepped forward hesitantly. "Marshstorm." Her voice was rough, akin to the sound of boulders tumbling down a cliffside, rain lashing against the rough bark of a tree, claws against stone. "During your leadership, you will face many difficult decisions, often ones that have no true right answer." She flicked what was left of her tail, meeting Marshstorm's eyes. "Believe me, I know what it's like to want to protect your family, your kin, above all. It's only natural to put their safety above all else.
"Marshstorm, you must remember that your entire clan is your kin now." Her low voice rose in pitch and changed in tone, becoming clearer and more youthful with every word that she spoke. "Put your clan as a whole above all, even your flesh and blood, the lives of your children, your mate. Always choose the greater good of Thunderclan."

Sharptooth moved closer until she and Marshstorm were face to face. Her clear green eyes met his with a fiery intensity that they hadn't held for moons. When she spoke, her voice was soft. Her fur was sleek. Many of her scars were gone.
She spoke not as an outlaw, but as a warrior of Thunderclan. "With this life, I give you justice. Do not turn a blind eye to the sins of your family and those closest to you. See through your prejudices. Make decisions fairly, without bias, and your clan will prosper."
She leaned forward and gently touched her nose to his forehead.

His amber eyes widened in amazement as she seemed to transform before his very eyes. Becoming as she had been while she was a warrior under him, and then better than he had ever had the luxury to see her. Her gift blazed through him with the pain of realisation that it was going to be difficult. Decisions were never easy, and the knowledge he might make a wrong one hurt, but it was the cats that it would help protect that made all this pain worth it, as he found himself gasping for breath afterwards.

In life, the tom had never known his offspring personally. Their conception had been a mistake of his in moments of weakness. And yet, Eagleheart had yet to find a greater love than that for the kits he had sired. How often had he wished they had been born into Skyclan so that he could watch them grow? Gatherings would have never been enough. It seemed to be some type of cruel blessing that the breath from his lungs had been shredded away by the claws of enemies. Could it be that Starclan did show mercy? He almost allowed a mocking laugh to break from his maw. Mercy would have been allowing his paws to set another course where he had not been in the path of those senseless Shadowclan cats. They would have healed his wounds. Pride stoked the dark-pelted tabby. He could have taken on the world if they let him. But life had been cut short as he bled out after that border skirmish.

It had seemed that he would never find peace in the afterlife, driven for something more than death as a young warrior. Yet, his kin had helped. There was time with his kin that had not been afforded in life. And, now, his own son was going to take the position that he had long sought after. Perhaps there were still some things that mattered in the world below. Marshstorm had left behind Shadowclan, like his sibling, all those moons ago. It pleased him to see the pair of his kits shaking of their mother’s roots. Disdain for Hazeflight had not waned over the moons. She had been a mistake and nothing more. A past better forgotten by all of them. And it was time that they stepped away from the past and into the future. Even if that was a Thunderclan future.

Eagleheart stood head high, proud as ever as his hazel eyes fixated on his son and he padded forward, “Marshstorm, your time has come to lead the clan. I am not surprised to see one of my sons excelling in such a way. With this life, I give you confidence. Never lose confidence in yourself, your decisions, and your clan. You will be a name to remember.” The Skyclan warrior bore the same gruff and arrogant manner he had in life. A smile crossed his maw as her bend his nose to touch Marshstorm’s. This life made the receiver feel weak and uncertain, lost without end. And then it came. The salvation to the weakness, a strength like none other, filled with pure determination. Eagleheart stepped away. He dipped his head to the new leader of Thunderclan, recognizing him fully as another legend of the forest. And then, Marshstorm’s father retreated back to the stars to watch. Riverclan wouldn’t stand a chance.”


Marshstorm watched as a dark tabby strode forward with confidence and pride. He wondered for only a moment who this dark starry cat was, until the scent hit him. Before his words were spoken. Eagleheart. His father, from SkyClan. He blinked slowly, uncertain about his feelings. For moons as a kit he had wished desperately to meet him. Only to be shoved away. Handed back to the clan with the distant knowledge that they may not be the only kits. Still, he felt the warmth of pride in his chest. His father was here for him, when he didn’t have to be, when he could have ignored him without so much as a thought.

Receiving his lives, he was relieved that it was relatively easier. He was familiar with the feeling of being lost, and intimately familiar with the sense of struggles it brought. Before he could so much as speak a word, his father was gone, back to the crowd, and Marshstorm blinked his large amber eyes gratefully to him. Longing to speak words he couldn’t possibly say in time.

This was a new commitment for the former Shadowclan warrior. But as soon as he had heard the news, the orange tom knew he wanted to witness the ranking of Hazeflight’s kit first paw. He’d been around when the litter was born, watched as they grew, fled, disappeared, or lost their lives. Life had not been kind to those who bore the blood of the cat he saw both as a dear friend and pseudo-mother. Cross-clan relationships had never proven to be an easy endeavor, and it had very much so tore apart the lives of those young kit’s without any hesitation of the claws. Although, it appeared that there were some things to come of the supposed mistake that had happened all those seasons ago. True, Wolffang and the rest had already found their eternal peace in Starclan, but something much more brilliant was happening here.

After wrestling with mixed-blood, lost kin, and finding a home within the forest, Marshstorm had come into his true position. It would be as leader of Thunderclan.

Flamestrike had always been something of an older brother to the kits. Even though Marshstorm had been lost at such a young age, the warrior felt no differently towards him than he did Wolffang. He was proud, eager even. Regrettably, the end of his life had little merit to it and life in Starclan had little to offer the ginger-pelted tom. But this stirred something in his chest and his paws, as if reviving them, as he padded towards the tabby tom. Green eyes betrayed the torrent of emotions swimming inside, even if his grizzled maw hardly twitched upward in a smile. He dipped his head in greeting before pulling back to consider the Thunderclanner before him. Leopardstar had left big pawprints to fill. Wise and faithful leadership had been at the forest clan’s head for sometime now. As he looked over the former deputy, Flamestrike knew this was the tom that they needed. Without a doubt, he would be the only one able to take the place of the previous leaders and guide the clan throughout any difficulties they might have to weather. For that, he gained a new measure of respect, not as someone he saw as a younger brother, but as a fully grown cat coming into his own right.

“In my life, I watched many cats make mistakes for their own selfish desires and leaving a legacy of confusion and pain in their wake. I once indulged myself in a forbidden romance with a medicine cat for the sake of a selfish romantic desire, at the price of my clan and the kits to come.” Flamestrike’s voice was somber as he reminisced on the times with Honeydrop. He did not see any of it as a mistake, he still loved the she-cat and his kits just as fiercely as he had in life. But it was lying to his clan, clawing apart the code, and leaving both Firestone and Gingerstripe with a mixture of confusion and betrayal in their hearts. That was where his desire for love had brought him, had brought many cats. For a moment he paused and refrained from speech as he mulled over these things. Eventually, he shook away the past and decided to speak once more. A long-forgotten life was better left in the past. The lives Marshstorm had yet to live were vastly more important, “With this life, I give you the gift of temperance. May you use it to push aside your own desires for the betterment of cats around you. Be a better cat than I was, Marshstorm.”

His nose pressed to the new leader’s in a crackle of lightning. Enticing desires so strong the receiver would likely consider the idea this life might rip them apart with passion. But lightning was an impossible thing to tame. It became relentless, bottomless, and insatiable. To pull his paws from the sensation of grabbing and pleading mud would be near impossible. And yet he did. It ebbed and it was done. Even in the beauty of the temptation, there was the irrefutable fact that it was too much for any one cat to tame their own desires. Flamestrike was satisfied that Hazeflight’s kit understood the gift bestowed upon him so that his paws might be guided in a better direction. As he pulled away, the Shadowclan warrior spared Marshstorm one final glance, and a flicker of a half-smile. Marshstorm would not waste this life.

Marshstorm watched a new cat emerge from the group. One he didn’t recognise at all as he patiently waited for some way to understand it. He didn’t get one. Instead, the new tom spoke of his warrior life. One that Marshstorm could never have known. The recognition that he had a romance with the medicine cat… a code breaking affair, was met with little judgement. As the life was offered, he accepted it. There was no need to shun a cat he didn’t even know.

The resulting life felt volatile at first. He felt it down to the tip of his paws, ripping through like a gale, until it finally slowed. The ripping winds died to a low breeze that wrapped around his heart and mind. Offering the chance to be well minded and respectful. He dipped his head to Flamestrike, watching as he joined the crowd of cats on the other side. Scarcely believing who the next cat was walking forward.

There was no shock written across the small-statured she-cat’s maw when she had received the news. It had simply been met with a soft smile and a twist of the head. Without a doubt, since kithood even, her tabby brother had been meant for leadership. It was true that the succession of leadership was typically spurred on by an unfortunate death. Luck appeared to be on their side, as the previous leader still clung to the one final life that had not yet been stripped from his mortal frame. Typically, the former Shadowclan warrior could have been less concerned with the affairs of other clans. But her blood now ran in the veins of Thunderclan cats. And still, there was a great debt owed to the now former leader of the clan. It was because of him that she had survived all those moons. Every moment had been dark and horrid, conjoined with starvation, and a creeping chill that wracked her bones. Torment had come in the form of Reno, Coyotefang’s father. The time away from the clans had been incomparable to any anguish felt throughout her lifetime, save for the loss of her kin. However, it had meant that she was able to return to the forest, allow her kit a better life, and give her the opportunity to seek out amends for all the damage she had done.

Wolffang dipped her head for a moment, recognizing everything that Leopardstar had done for her, and for the clan that was now to rest in her brother’s paws. Without a doubt, the elder tom would guide the steps of his companion. It was a sacred duty, to be able to train up your deputy so that they might someday lead the clan wisely. The pair of Thunderclanners had been provided an opportunity that few had been afforded: guidance in life. There was no need for Starclan to interfere beyond the basic duties. Everything rested in sure paws. And the time of mourning was to be swift. Today, a new leader would be named. And it was her honor to bestow that tom with more than one gift today. The thought of seeing her brother for the first time in so long was something that twisted the usually expressionless maw of the she-cat. Wolffang was known for her ability to be less than charming and the bitter mask she wore when speaking to anyone other than her kin. And often, they too fell victim to her sharp tongue. The meeting with Marshstorm was to be more pleasant. Both a greeting and a nod to the customs of Starclan.

She padded forward across the star-studded clearing as the previous cat stepped away. This was their moment. Upon seeing the coat of her darker-furred kin, her smirk only grew wider. Pride was obvious as she meowed, “It took you long enough to get here. A lesser cat might have take Leopardstar’s final life. But you know I would have refused you any if that were the case.” Her voice was abnormally light. A rusty purr lined the words as she stepped forward to nuzzle her maw into his cheek, giving him a quick lick before stepping away. So many things to say and they only had so much time. She supposed giving him the life she was meant to give was the most worthwhile.

“With this life, I gift you forgiveness. May your eyes be clear enough to see the truth, and your heart strong enough to find mercy. Let there be power in letting go.” She touched her nose gingerly to his. It was a fierce life at first, writhing and twisting with indecisive fury. The sensation that flowed through the leader threatened to tear him apart. Until… it just stopped. What had gripped him so fiercely only moments earlier seemed to relent and release. The tom was left with the memory of such a raging torrent. But there was so much stillness and freedom in the clear skies ahead. When he had stopped feeling the sensation of the life she had just given him, Wolffang stepped back to consider him. Her eyes locked with his and she searched his gazed for something. And found it. With a nod, the she-cat knew that he was ready to receive the other thing she had come to offer on this night.

“Growing up half-clan was such a difficult thing as a kit, wasn’t it? Torn between parents of Shadowclan and Skyclan. Funny how both of our paths lead us far away from either of the homes we might have chosen. It brought us both to Thunderclan. But I couldn’t have ever stayed. My soul wasn’t tame enough for that, far to restless and with too much to do to settle down and live a happy life with my kin. You weren’t. And you made them your home and forged an allegiance unlike anything I could have ever even imagined, Marshstorm.” Wolffang paused. It was strange to be considering it after so many moons. She had once idolized their Skyclan father, scorning their mother, and even sought out a place with him. How foolish had she been at such a young age, and even throughout her life. But this was not the time for regrets, “Marshstorm.” She repeated. Another brief pause ensued.

“Our Shadowclan mother gifted you that name. It no longer suits you, brother, for the marshlands are not a part of who you are. Marshstorm, before the eyes of our ancestors, I strip you of your old name and offer you a new name that the stars may see and recognize you as the true leader of Thunderclan. May you return with a new name, one that suits not who you were but who you are. They will call you, Oakstar of Thunderclan. No longer are you bound by a past life but free to go into the future as a strong and dependable leader. Elders will tell your tale for seasons. But don’t let it get to your head brother. I still know how imperfect you are.”

Wolffang managed a weak chuckle. How she had managed to stay so serious with him for so long was a true mystery. Perhaps it was one of the many wonders of Starclan, or the fact that she knew Grasswhisker watched far off and would chastise her for ruining such a ceremonial moment for Thunderclan’s new leadership. Not even the watchful eye of Starclan could hold her jaws shut. If they allowed her to yowl at apprentices who came to gather some semblance of wisdom from the stars, she should be more than able jab lightly at her brother. Oakstar. The name suited him both in character and in appearance. Any laughter in her throat died away as she looked at him for one final time. Their moments together drew to an end.

“Lead them well, Oakstar. I am proud of you.”


He nearly wept to see her. His other beloved sister. One who had apparently become a warrior and a rogue, all while he wasn’t around to protect, love or guide her. As he should have been. The pain of not being there for them was all the more acute the closer she came, and he stepped forward, almost greeting her until he forced himself still.

He didn’t want her to leave. There was a moment of contemplation where he thought if he backed up, the life would wait, and he’d get to be with her just those few moments longer. It wasn’t meant to be though. The life coursed through him. Showing him the pain of rejection, of loss, and the overwhelming joy of forgiveness being offered and accepted. Long ago, he had been on the receiving end of forgiveness in his forced leaving.

Now, it would be his turn to forgive. There was no doubt that there would be cats who made mistakes. He was willing to make sure cats were forgiven of innocent misdeeds. His amber eyes snapped up as Wolffang continued to speak. Confusion in his amber eyes as she spoke, then an odd feeling of namelessness. He didn’t like it. Being stranded however briefly as he realised his name was effectively gone, only to be gifted a new one.

Oakstar.

He tested the word out in his thoughts, enjoying the meanings. The image of comforting boughs of large oak trees that sheltered against hot weather and the worst of rains. Of a tree so sturdy that the elements could never topple it. He smiled at his sister, leaping forward to hug her as she stepped away. Purring softly a thank you that was stuck in his throat, unvoiced, but so clear in his expression alone.

Blizzardshine watched during most of the ceremony with a smile, not being until the very last second that she finally got up and walked towards the former ShadowClan cat, and future deputy of ThunderClan. Unlike many would probably would feel, she actually felt pride on the great variety this brought, she was one of those who cared little to nothing about blood purity, and instead cared for the cat themselves and their actions, and so far, she had witnessed both in life and from between the stars the many times Marshstorm had been loyal to ThunderClan and made them all oh so proud, putting them, the ones she still felt proud to call her family without blood-bonds in the forest.
Yes, she was still slightly bitter for Ridgelight’s exile, but she understood the reason behind it and felt that, in his place, a similar punishment would’ve been implemented.

“Marshstorm, I’m glad to see you here tonight. Yes, it may had been earlier than expected, but I know you have what it takes to lead ThunderClan and help them see a brighter path before them” She gently purred as a calm greeting as she took her place to give him his final life.

Her nose, warm and soft, pressed softly against his “With this life, Marshstorm, I give you wisdom” As she spoke, the still living Deputy, would feel the sight of the experience Blizzardshine carried over his shoulders, heavier than the boulders that crushed her on her last moments, full of all kinds of sensations and emotions. However, at the same time, it caused him to feel like he no longer was walking in the dark, that paws on a previously shifting and unreliable path finally had a solid ground to walk on “Use it to think before you make your choices, to use knowledge and understatement before claws. Please, use it at all times, don’t let emotions and pressure from others cloud your judgment and cause it to be tossed aside. I know I did once, and I caused the death of a close friend and innocent, something I could never forgive myself for even today. Don’t make my mistakes, don’t carry with that guilt” She gently pulled back, still smiling. You had walked a long path, from ShadowClan to ThunderClan, from a lost apprentice to the great leader we all see before us today, and you have successfully proven that blood and birthplace while influential, can’t dictate the future of any cat, but the choices they make.


"I promise." Oakstar vowed to Blizzardshine. His head dipped respectfully to The bright white she-cat before him, one he used to see in camp constantly, but not anymore. Not for awhile. The former leader seemed quite calm and proud even as the starry landscape around him began to fade as the last of the lives sank down into his bones. The call of his new name echoing throughout the forests of StarClan, and down into the world of the living once more. Where he would awaken, a new cat.

A leader.



- Many thanks to Ripped "Wolffang, Flamestrike and Eagleheart" Drippy "Sharptooth" Ink "Blizzardshine" and Shadow "Thrushpelt" <3