Quoth the Raven, Nevermore {closed}

The sun began to dip below the hills, WindClan settling into the grass as sleep had fallen over them. Aspenheart's den remained crowded with nests, occupied by Barleytuft as well as Sandpaw. Finchstar shook his head as he passed their quiet figures, wincing at the new scars that covered his cream tabby friend. Leaffall had come, and the moor had grown unpredictable. The leader was always a lover of change, and found it kept him on his toes. However seeing his clanmates in such a downtrodden state took a toll on his heart. Graybriar had been devastated over the death of Puddlepaw. And Barleytuft's patrol barely made it back alive. The foxes and badgers that wrecked havoc over the land needed to be dealt with, Finchstar would often lay in his nest, dreaming up battle plans. Patrick the loner had come to join, led by Aspenheart, cared for by Elmskip. The two made easy friends, and yet the tom found it strange to see a cat so shy. He wondered if his welcome had been off-putting, and yet Finchstar once again laid down his independence, humbled by his clanmates. They had stepped in to welcome the stranger, and in the midst of it, Finchstar found one missing. Raventail, his deputy and friend. At first it was shrugged off as a late patrol, it wasn't unlike Raventail to seek time to think. He had been contemplative ever since their first meeting. However thoughts of the beasts and Puddlepaw sprang up, Aspenheart's omen blanketing the scene. The territory remained dangerous, a place of fear for the clan. Finchstar frowned as he padded through the grass, nodding to his friends, sharing tongues before sleep. But the terror in their eyes was prominent. Finchstar could see it clear as day. A battle was needed. These beasts would be driven out. Yet his closet consuls remained occupied. Aspenheart busy with the wounded, Barleytuft recovering from horrific injuries, and Raventail missing.

Each time he thought of the fact, another shiver was sent up his spine. Finchstar couldn't bear to witness his deputy and friend, sprawled out bloody on the grass as Puddlepaw had been. No, he wouldn't allow it. An adventure would arise tomorrow, and the clan would be gathered early in the morning. Raventail would stand next to him, black fur glossy, yellow eyes shining. Finchstar blinked at the sunset and found himself on another hunt for the missing, yet this time he'd go it alone. The wounds given to Barleytuft and his patrol had been unnecessary and terrible. The leader shouldn't have ordered them to go, he had seven remaining lives and yet his clanmates only possessed one. It was wrong, cruel that those sent to find Puddlepaw should take the brunt of the damage. Finchstar remained unscathed and hated it. He refused to endanger his friends any further... Sighing, he skirted around the gorse tunnel and squeezed into a hidden gap in the bushes, leaving camp, feeling like a kit again. Perhaps Littlesong would grab him by the scruff and scold him, telling Finchkit to search the elders for ticks as punishment. And yet now he was Finchstar. With no mother, and no rules. Yet his commitments were many. Sneaking out of camp as a leader was something Aspenheart would tease him for. And yet Finchstar shrugged and knew the cheeky medicine cat would do the same. He didn't want to raise questions as the sun hid its face for the night. It was a new adventure, and tonight, he'd be Finchkit, as sure-nosed and swift-pawed as a mouse.

Truth be told, Cloverpaw had been feeling restless in the evenings ever since so many horrible things had begun to emerge in the night to descend upon those who left camp alone. The tom himself had scarcely had any alone time since after he received his apprentice name, yet the idea of anyone venturing the moors alone set his fur on edge. He found it hard to sleep at night lately after his father and friends had come home so badly battered. They hadn't even been alone. Puddlepaw was, and what had happened to her?

There was no good to bring of thinking about it, so instead Cloverpaw acted. He'd taken to sitting up until he could see the moon over the gorse wall, keeping an ear out for bold apprentices or wandering warriors. Raventail was gone, and the absence did not go unnoticed. The fear grew as the time went on. Though Cloverpaw himself wasn't close to the dark tom, he did sort of like him for his casual demeanor. The thought of losing someone again so soon...

Movement caught Cloverpaw's eyes from his pacing patrol in a corner of camp. His eyes shot up to find the shadow of a very familiar tom: Finchstar. His pelt was a dull gold under the dying light of day. His frame and creeping gait were unmistakable. The silver apprentice had to fight the urge to lash his still-healing tail as he watched his mentor and leader head towards the exit to disappear into the night. Instead he let out a hiss, looked around camp, and then raced after Finchstar.

As soon as he was within earshot, Cloverpaw cleared his throat and announced, "I know my leader wouldn't abandon his Clan, so you must be going on a mission. I'm very honored to be allowed to volunteer to accompany you." He couldn't help but lift his tail, a little proud of himself.

The air was cool, a slight breeze carrying over the grass as Finchstar lifted his nose to the wind. He'd need to catch a scent of his target first, however he only recognized the gorse bushes and the mist in the grass. The leader licked at his chest fur, anticipation eating at his paws when another scent hit the wind. This one reminded him of the herbs in Aspenheart's den, it carried memories of eggs and rabbits in the breeze. Believing before seeing, Finchstar turned around to gaze upon his wayward apprentice. Cloverpaw the adventurer. The silver tabby had spent most of the past moons in the medicine cat's den, recovering from a dog attack that had maimed his tail and scarred his pelt. Both his sisters had risen to warriorhood, and yet Cloverpaw remained ever still. Finchstar would often visit the young tom, teaching hunting and battling in camp in the meantime. His legs had regained their strength, and his spirit remained fiery. Lately he'd been venturing from camp, strong enough to face the moor once again. Yet day patrols and nightly adventures were two very different things. Finchstar smiled and Cloverpaw's statement. The tom was smart enough not to ask, and mused instead. "Well it appears the decision has already been made then, 'paw. I do not know who gave you permission to accompany me, but he must be a very generous, handsome, and wise cat. I think if he was here, he'd also say that you should remain close by my side if you'd like to keep the pelt on your shoulders. He'd also recommend keeping a closed maw about this around Graybriar." Finchstar purred as he padded down the hill, flicking his apprentice with his tail playfully. Perhaps most mentors would deny their 'paw's requests, however Finchstar was also a leader. And the leader's decree was that a den-bound tom needed a journey every now and then.

"Can't sleep?" Finchstar asked as the stars began to sparkle, weaving his way between stalks of heather that framed the sky. "The moor has grown dangerous, I'll admit. I am truly sorry for the wounds your father now carries. The life of a warrior is brutal, yet is it so wrong to hope for peace?" Finchstar had asked Raventail once of his opinion, and saw wisdom in Cloverpaw as well. Age did not determine intelligence, as they all carried different ideals. Some were influencers, their claws flashed in the light, their maws loose and teeth clean. And others were watchers, eyes wide as they took in the world. Raventail liked to watch. He'd sit atop Outlook Rock and muse over the territory. Finchstar sighed as the large stone came into view, a jagged seam, cutting into the night sky. No cat resided on its peak, much to the leader's disappointment. Brow furrowed, he climbed the perch, gazing out over the territory with a wistful heart. "Raventail's gone missing." He admitted, gesturing with his tail for Cloverpaw to come and sit. "He wouldn't let those foxes steal his life. He has skill in battle and yet I worry. I thought I'd check here first, but now it seems silly to think he'd remain in one location for a night and a day. Do you have any ideas, 'paw?" The forest stretched out below them, river reflecting in the moon. The trees were only black splotches, and in the distance, the Twoleg's lights glowed. The world was so large, so vast. And a blackbird could fly to his heart's content.

Admittedly, Cloverpaw worried at first that Finchstar would be angry or - worse - send him away. After all, if his mentor had commanded that of him, he'd have had no choice but to alert the entire camp of his departure. The apprentice knew that at his current state he couldn't keep up with Finchstar if the skilled tom decided he didn't want company, so he'd have to tattle as much as he wanted to go. Fortunately, the ginger-and-white tom wasn't such a cat. He turned to face Cloverpaw, and after the apprentice's bold statement the leader's face curved into a bright smile. Finchstar's words of permission were clever and dry as usual, a subtle compliment to himself as he also gave his apprentice instruction. "Stay close; keep quiet. Got it," Cloverpaw replied easily, falling right into line beside Finchstar as he set off again.

Down the hill they padded, but Finchstar - ever the speaker - only let the silence span until they were well out of earshot of camp. When they were, he began to speak again, asking if Cloverpaw could sleep. The younger tom shook his head, and Finchstar continued, speaking of the danger of the moors. He wasn't sure what to think of his leader's apology for Barleytuft's injury - after all, sometimes being a warrior meant getting injured, clearly - and so simply shrugged. Finchstar's question, though, made the silver tabby look at his mentor with a thoughtful expression. "There's never harm in having hope; when we lose that, we lose everything," he answered certainly.

He'd relied on hope after his injury. He only remembered as some dream of a kiss with death, but some dark recess of Cloverpaw's mind held the memory that he'd gone to StarClan briefly after being attacked by the dog. He could have died, but he didn't; he thought it must've been hope that kept him holding on then. Hope was easy to hold onto for him. It had brought his loved ones often to safety, or it seemed that way. He'd already had a few bitter disappointments, but the world trudged on. He would, too.

Finchstar's admission that Raventail was missing came as no surprise. Everyone had noticed when he hadn't appeared at ceremonies in the last day. Cloverpaw had seen his father, still injured, growing more and more restless at the thought of Raventail out on the moor alone. When the leader stated he was going after Raventail, searching for him, it clicked, and the silver apprentice nodded in understanding. Indeed the Outlook Rock had drawn near; Cloverpaw had taken note of it looming in the distance, for it was ever-present. As Finchstar saw, the apprentice could tell the deputy hadn't stayed there - or at the very least, he wasn't there now, and if he was there his scent was already gone.

"Nothing's silly if you aren't sure where else to start," Cloverpaw tried to encourage Finchstar, though he frowned that their short journey had been fruitless so far. The sun was slinking lower and farther. The silver apprentice's ears twitched as he thought of where a deputy might go - or where he might go, if he had such freedom. "I'm not sure... I don't really know Raventail very well," the apprentice admitted. He looked in the distance, then suggested with a bittersweet smile, "The one thing I do know about Raventail narrows things down for us a little, though: it'd take StarClan themselves coming down to get him in the tunnels."

A grin kicked at the side of Finchstar's maw at Cloverpaw's encouraging words. The leader asked an impossible question afterwards, wondering where a chained bird could possibly fly once it found his freedom. Cloverpaw made a good point about Raventail and the tunnels, Finchstar nodding in agreement at the point. It cut one location from their search, and all for the better perhaps. With the foxes about, Finchstar didn't dare put Cloverpaw in such danger underneath the earth. The leader found he didn't care for the tunnels much either, despite his decree to reopen them. His past decisions started to cave in on the tom. It was difficult to radiate confidence when all later actions had proved fruitless. However as the sun left purple hues as it tucked its face away, Finchstar watched the stars and knew Brookclover would search just as well. Raventail had been more than an apprentice to her. In fact, he almost resembled their lost sons. Blinking slowly before standing, the leader let out a readied huff, determined to walk farther.

"You are quite right, 'paw. We won't have to search the tunnels, and perhaps it's for the best. Graybriar may have my ears if she hears I took you into the fox's den itself." Finchstar shook out his pelt and leapt off the rock, landing steadily in the grass once again. He watched as Cloverpaw followed, still somewhat concerned for the state of his apprentice. While his wounds had healed, his balance still wasn't perfect. They padded on, this time under the gorse as it stretched over a rocky outcropping. It seemed like a hopeless chase, wandering into nothingness, looking for a leaf among the moor. Impossible. Finchstar swallowed his doubts and kept walking, paws getting heavier with despair along the way. "My paws almost paved the way first..." The leader spoke offhandedly, gaze down. "After Brookclover's death, your namesake, I was crushed, only a shell of a tom. I walked to her grave at dawn, said my goodbyes to her, and left. I went as far as the Thunderpath, and saw the Twolegplace in the distance. I thought I would become a loner, 'paw. But Barleytuft, Raventail, and the rest. They would be searching as we are now, with hearts hollow and eyes downcast." Finchstar lifted his gaze to the stars and felt an overwhemling gust of empathy, knowing Raventail's heart, experiencing his battles. The wind was ever so strong, and it blew relentlessly. Sometimes one's soul lay in the gales as they swept over the moor. "I returned to WindClan the same day. Perhaps my shortest adventure yet. But I was loved, and I wanted to love as well. My heart belongs here, but perhaps Raventail's rests on greener pastures."

Finchstar refused to address the tom as dead. Raventail was reckless, but he was not a fool. Death wasn't as poetic and heart crushing as a journey alone into the unknown. Finchstar thrived on life's stories, and knew deep down that his deputy wouldn't go out any other way. Fate was unpredictable, but it could not change the soul of a cat itself. "That cat has a windy heart, 'paw, and yet he holds friends in many lands. Born in a distant territory, there might be a few who know of Raventail's quest."

Cloverpaw didn't feel like he'd offered much wisdom, but Finchstar seemed grateful enough for what he had. The silver tabby tom kept his pleasure to himself, following his leader quietly as the tom lead the way down off the Great Rock again and out onto the moors. Admittedly, getting down was harder now than it had been even as a younger apprentice; Cloverpaw stretched his body down the side of it as far as he could before leaping off to the ground below. His tail ached to flail, but the apprentice used nearly all his focus to keep it still. It had to heal before he could use it so carelessly, but at this moment it came at the cost of his balance. He staggered and stumbled hard when he hit the ground, lurching forward for several steps before he was able to control his momentum and direction again.

The young tom looked at his leader, hoping he hadn't noticed, but Finchstar had eyed him the whole time. Cloverpaw quickly gave him a reassuring grin and flicked his ears; he was fine. They carried on for a while before Finchstar spoke again. At first Cloverpaw didn't understand what the ginger-and-white tom was telling him, but as the words of admittance came and were slowly processed, he felt his heart quicken. Finchstar tried to leave WindClan! He couldn't help but look on in surprise - and interest - as his mentor admitted what he'd done... or, well, what he hadn't. The WindClan leader's final sad admission made Cloverpaw look down sadly: "My heart belongs here, but perhaps Raventail's rests on greener pastures."

"What's greener than this?" he whispered sadly, incredulously, looking out wistfully only the moor, but all was sepia in the growing dimness of the night. Cloverpaw blinked his pale amber eyes and mumbled, "I guess it's all timing and perspective, huh?" There was another moment of silence before Finchstar suggested that, perhaps, they could look for friends from other places. "You don't think he's gone to another Clan, do you?" Cloverpaw asked, feeling nervous.

The leader smiled at Cloverpaw's wisdom, brushing aside some grass with a paw. Timing and perspective, he repeated to himself in his head, staring at his apprentice with loving yellow eyes. He was glad he wasn't alone tonight. While a solitary trip may have been safer, his heart soared with the silver tabby who walked beside him. Companionship was a treasure that paled to none. They steered toward the gorge, perhaps sub-consciously as Cloverpaw mentioned the possibility of another clan. ShadowClan was far too dark for Raventail. The black tom hated water, and that nightly land was full of it. But even more so, RiverClan. It would take a pull larger then the wind itself to bring Raventail to that border. And yet their paws padded in that direction. Who was Finchstar to change their course?

The stars sparkled above, dancing beautiful shapes as they padded over the souls that resided there. All lost on their windy moor. It was poetic, a beautiful place filled with beautiful cats. Finchstar gazed at the shadows and wondered would become of their foxes. WindClan would persevere as they always did, and yet did their life remain wonderful as they sat in their dens and feared? Finchstar watched the rip in the moor ahead, hearing the roaring sound of water. Was life always something to admire? Or was there a line drawn between the good and the faults? The leader refused to believe that in their sadness, they had fallen through the graces of beauty. Even tears fell like waterfalls, as beautiful as the silver gorge.

Eyes wide, the leader trailed the rift to the mend. The truce between two forces. The end of the gorge. A chuckle left his maw as Finchstar thought of his first adventure with Cloverpaw, many moons ago. "'Paw, do you remember when we walked here together for the first time? We spoke of borders and the danger of the waterfall. And yet you were mesmerized with the end of the gorge itself." The tom laughed, tail high as he found joy in the darkness. However Cloverpaw's pelt was not the only silver thing to grace the moor. In the bushes, beyond the patches of heather and ferns, sat a familiar face. One Finchstar had never meant, and yet he recognized her as if they had been long lost friends. Dappleshine. Raventail's friend from the lake. Her bravery often made Finchstar smile, and her description fit perfectly to the one the deputy had given him. "Dappleshine?" Finchstar spoke curiosly, head cocked. "Are you out for a late night stroll as well?"

It had been a long time since Raventail's black figure had disappeared from sight, but Dappleshine remained where she had been left. He had asked her to wait, and wait she would, however long it took. The sun had started it's descent beyond the horizon, and she sat, gray fur catching the final dying rays of the sunlight. Now the light of day was completely gone, and her fur shone almost silver in the light of the stars and the moon, hoping that her dear friend had found a safe place to rest. She had stopped the tears long before, and now just waited. For what, she didn't know. Raventail had been clear that he had needed at least some time, so why then were her paws refusing to budge? Rustling on the far side of the gorge made her ears turn towards the sound, and voices floated over the moors. She blinked, a bit startled, it was a little late for the sunset patrol, wasn't it?

It registered after a heartbeat that the voice was Finchstar's, and then she heard her name. Standing and turning towards the tom, she noticed another, younger cat next to him. A low hum rumbled in her chest as she made her way through the neutral territory towards them, dipping her head respectfully. "Finchstar, greetings. I was actually waiting... For something." How much did Finchstar know? How much did WindClan know? She sat down, blue eyes catching Finchstar's as she wrapped her tail around herself. "What can I do for you Finchstar? Do you need to speak with Torrentstar, or are you just taking a stroll?" She glanced over to the other tom, giving him a small smile and a nod of welcoming.

Finchstar's only response to his apprentice's question was a soft, wordless smile. He offered no reassurance about Cloverpaw's nervous suggestion, and indeed the tom simply began to lead the way towards the edge of the territory. The young silver tom followed obediently and without a word. For all Cloverpaw knew, Finchstar's lack of answer might well have been an answer on its own. They moved along towards RiverClan's territory, it seemed, silent shapes passing unnoticed under the stars. Every once in a while there would be an atypical rustling or a soft scuffle and Cloverpaw would quickly turn his head and get ready to arch his back and yowl an alarm; so far, though, no foxes or badgers had come, and his deep breath in to cry out always died on his tongue.

The sound of the Gorge began to cover any sounds of the surrounding moors as Cloverpaw and his mentor approached the rift in the earth. The apprentice was, in fact, thinking fondly of when he and his mentor had gone on their first outing into the territory as Finchstar brought it up, speaking in his sonorous voice. "How could I not be?" Cloverpaw replied with a laugh, gazing to the roaring torrent of water and adding, "It was the biggest thing I'd ever seen in my life, and the loudest - it still is, I'm pretty sure!"

Finchstar was distracted, however, and was looking elsewhere when Cloverpaw followed his gaze. The WindClan leader called to "Dappleshine", and a silvery-gray she-cat responded, standing and moving towards them - though her face was almost vacant and distracted. The RiverClan cat began to approach, and Cloverpaw glanced at Finchstar curiously before shrugging and looking back to the other warrior. He must know her, he mused. Once Dappleshine had arrived she sat before them, dipping her head respectfully before looking up at him once more. She asked if she could do anything for them, and then her pretty blue eyes met Cloverpaw's pale amber gaze.

The apprentice looked at his mentor again, finding himself lacking for words. Well, I can't be the one to say that our deputy is missing! I don't even know this cat, he pointed out to himself, and so he met Dappleshine's gaze with just a friendly smile and ducked his head, mewing impishly, "I'm just Clover the 'paw, don't mind me."

A quick façade was layered over Dappleshine's face as Finchstar and Cloverpaw approached. It was almost flawless, a perfect bluff if he'd ever seen one. But the leader knew that art well, and could see between the lines. "Not Torrentstar, Dappleshine, in fact you were the very cat I was hoping to see." Cloverpaw spoke up and inserted himself into a metaphorical corner, polite in his mannerisms. Finchstar stifled a chuckle at his apprentice's words and returned to the matter at hand.

"You are as skilled at bluffing as I am, I see. However the state of WindClan is not a feat to be lied over. I could tell you rabbits were coming out of our ears, and that the sun was as warm as StarClan itself, but where would that get us, hmm?" The leader let his gaze glance warily behind him, tracing the broken moor, wincing. "The foxes you must have heard of, yes. However it saddens me to say our deputy is missing. Raventail is not the type to die to a beast, that would be to boring for a cat like himself. If Raventail were to die, he'd sacrifice his body for a loved one, or try to fly off the gorge." Finchstar's tone remained light despite the darkness of his words. He blinked at Dappleshine, curious now. "He holds you in a high regard, Dappleshine, and I have heard many a story of your adventures together at the lake. I'd like to ask if you know of his whereabouts? Please do not worry for the poor soul, I wish not to drag him back to WindClan against his wishes, I... I would just like to know my friend is safe. Our friend."

Dappleshine's head tilted, veiled with curiosity at the surprise that her presence was being sought by the leader of another clan... Even if it was Raventail's clan. "You're in luck then, as here I am. What can I do for you, Finchstar?" Returning the apprentice's friendly smile, she purred. "I suppose you can call me the Dapple that Shines, if you wish, Clover the Paw." Blinking warmly, her attention returned to Finchstar as he continued to speak. So he had seen through her facade, to the sorrow lingering beneath. He was intuitive, most definitely, but she had known that from the stories. This was the first time experiencing it in cat however. He glanced behind him, and she was sure she saw the fur along his back raise. Following his gaze, she saw only the empty moor, but Raventail's warning echoed in her mind suddenly. "The moor’s dangerous these days." She said softly, hardly above a whisper as Finchstar turned back to face her.

Her throat went dry as Finchstar spoke of Raventail's disappearance, and her ears lowered slightly at the idea of the tom's death. Her own fur prickling this time, she shook her head slightly. No, he was safe, he hadn't left that long ago, she would have heard if he had been attacked... Wouldn't she have? Pulled out of her thoughts as Finchstar continued, asking if she knew of his whereabouts, and voicing that he had no intention of forcing him to return, only to know he was safe, Dappleshine nodded. "He did come to speak with me... He had a destination in mind, he said he heard others talking about it before. He also said that he would come back, once he had his thoughts in order. He's blaming himself, for events.... For battles, and wounds. I-" Her voice cracked, a result of the days events. Looking down at her paws, spanning the area between RiverClan and WindClan, she sighed softly.

"I don't know when he intends to return, or if it will be for good. What I do know was that I promised him that I would wait however long it took, and that he promised me I wouldn't wait long. I can't speak for what he left, but please Finchstar, I hope you understand. Sometimes.... Sometimes we need space to clear our heads and put things into perspective... And... Well, sometimes those we cherish have to go and take a different path." She looked over her shoulder, eyes searching for the trees in the distance, the trees that now sheltered her daughter, and the horizon beyond where Sparkfrost walked.

Cloverpaw was surprised to hear that this so-named Dappleshine of RiverClan was someone of interest to Finchstar, but the two of them didn't question it and so neither would he. All in all, he felt a bit out of place in their conversation, and he hoped to indicate so politely. The adults seemed to get Cloverpaw's hint, much to his relief. The she-cat smiled and purred at him, joking back in kind. He felt that it was safe and permitted to sit back and listen, and he was content to do so.

Finchstar, ever observant and perceptive, called Dappleshine on her earlier sad, shifting face. The RiverClan cat seemed surprised, and then somewhat shameful. She was aware of the dangers on the moors; what was more surprising, however, was that she was aware not only of Raventail but of his disappearance. For a moment a memory of recollection flickered in his head: his father told him of living on the lake shore after the flood, and meeting Ravenpaw as well as a RiverClan she-cat there. Cloverpaw examined Dappleshine with a slightly different understanding. Is this the Dappleshine? he wondered, but Finchstar had clearly confirmed it was.

The RiverClan cat's confession wasn't what Cloverpaw wanted to hear, though it was better than the dreadful alternative that Finchstar had offered. Raventail had left the territories. Cloverpaw felt his tail twitching with anxiety, and his features shifted with alarm as he looked from Dappleshine to Finchstar, not understanding the personal meaning of her words. "So... So Raventail did leave us...?" Cloverpaw murmured, feeling confused and concerned.