Cloverpaw's Moonstone Journey

"Finally!" Aspenheart groaned playfully, dropping a bundle of herbs at Cloverpaw's paws. "Out of my den, out of my fur!" He stretched out one shaky leg at a time, a gentle mrrp of happiness escaping his maw. Finally, the last of Graybriar's litter was going to become a warrior. He was getting a little big for the apprentice den.

Aspenheart felt particularly close to Cloverpaw. He pretty much watched the poor scrap grow up a mere rabbit-length from his place of constantly organizing flowers. He was a goofy and bright young tom, and in a time of such stress and tension, Aspenheart couldn't say he minded. With Mistystripe as his apprentice, it seemed he was never going to get rid of the three. He rolled his eyes. Yeah, he was stuck with them.

"I hope it's worth the trip, little buddy," he said. "It's nice. Sometimes it's someone you know, but sometimes it's somebody from long ago. I always wonder what makes them so interested in us. But that's a little dark, isn't it? C'mon, let's get moving!"

Cloverpaw's response to Aspenheart's good-natured taunting was a playful hiss, extending one pale paw to lazily swat at the other tom's shoulder when he leaned forward to set the herbs down. "You'll miss me," the apprentice stated matter-of-factly, immediately leaning down to lap up the traveling herbs that waited for him. Cloverpaw's face scrunched only slightly at their taste. He'd had his fill of herbs in the last several moons under Aspenheart's care after the dog attack. No matter how used to the flavor he was, though, it didn't change the fact that they were kind of unpleasant. He continued to swipe his tongue around his muzzle as the medicine cat mused on some of the wonder and mystery of visiting the Moonstone.

At the mention of the darkness, Cloverpaw felt his stomach knot uneasily. "Yeah. Mom's already got her pelt ruffled that I'm going to be out of camp all night again," he replied in agreement, "I'm ready already, we're just waiting on you, you chatty bat." The silver tom's crimped tail twitched awkwardly, intending to portray playfulness, and he began to move towards the entrance, looking expectantly at his dear friend.

Aspenheart made a point to body-check Cloverpaw on the way out for his sass. He wondered if all of Finchstar's apprentices were doomed to be sarcastic, mouthy toms. Seeing StarClan was beginning to be traumatic for Aspenheart, what with all the terrible omens that haunted his dreams. Luckily, this trip was not for him.

An uneventful trip was a pleasing trip, these days. WindClan could barely go a sunset without having another predator-related catastrophe. Cloverpaw's return to action and Goldengale's most recent kit was the best news they had since the season began. The tunnel felt colder as he pressed his flank to it for balance, padding down, down, down, towards the cave. It was already aglow when it first came into view. "It's all yours, Cloverpaw," he announced. "Good luck out there. I'll be sitting right in the corner."

Cloverpaw didn't wonder much about what he might see in StarClan on the journey; he had too much to think about between then and now. They had all of WindClan's land to go before the Moonstone, and the moors were fraught with danger. Some distant reach of his mind remembered the last time he went out alone with the dear tom beside him now. Aspenheart was just as wiggly then as now, but Cloverpaw himself... There was no good cause for his tail to ache, not with all the herbs he'd just had, but he swore he could feel it - and his ribs - throbbing just beyond his thoughts. The silver tabby said nothing, but he kept sharp and alert until they were well into Highstones.

When they'd finally gone into the tunnels, Cloverpaw wasn't sure whether he should feel more secure or not. Were they sure there weren't foxes? They probably would've scented them by then... All the apprentice's thoughts were forgotten, however, as they stepped into the glimmering light of the Moonstone. "Whoa," he breathed. Aspenheart's high voice rang out suddenly in the light, and the mesmerized Cloverpaw nodded and stepped towards the glinting stone, a ghostly tabby, washed out by light.

The WindClan apprentice crouched and touched his nose to the stone. A strange electrifying yet subduing wave flooded over him, and within two breaths he found himself slipping into sleep. Cloverpaw let out one last comfortable sigh, and then the world was dark.

A soft breeze, warm as greenleaf, gently ruffled Cloverpaw's short silver fur. The apprentice's pale amber eyes flickered open and he blinked as they slowly took in his surroundings: a pale lavender sky that faded to red and gold and made the moor-grasses around him practically glow. He took a slow, deep breath, and the air was honey sweet with heather and fresh wheat. Cloverpaw started forward, strolling across the field in a dream.

Everywhere he looked it was quiet. Peaceful. Safe. After some time, the sound of soft paw steps swishing through the grass just beside him made him turn his head. A glimmering pale tabby she-cat seemed to have materialized there, yes Cloverpaw wasn't startled or upset by her appearance. The dark hazel of her gaze was oddly familiar as their eyes met, and the starry cat smiled with love at him.

"Cloverpaw, my dear, it is lovely to meet you," the she-cat purred to him. They continued to walk aimlessly side by side. "My name is Amberheart. I am your father's mother. Barleytuft has made a good family for himself... Oh, but listen to me, trying to chat about my boy. I wish I'd been there to meet all my grandkits. You are all so clever and quick - and you, my boy, how strong you've been... How brave."

Cloverpaw shifted slightly uncomfortably and looked back to his tail, replying, "What, that? It's nothing - I was just doing my job as a warrior apprentice. It's fine, no one even notices it."

The ancestor's whiskers twitched with amusement, her face soft with knowing as she replied, "No, but you do."

Cloverpaw's ears flicked self-consciously, and he answered, "Well... Well yeah, I mean, it's my tail. I have to notice. Everyone tells me I could've died and that I'm lucky I didn't, and it just feels like everyone's so... gentle with me." He huffed and added, kicking a small rock aside as he padded on, "It's embarrassing."

Amberheart blinked and replied, "Why should they not be gentle with you? It has been less than a season since you were wounded; you still visit your medicine cat for care and treatment of your tail. You still notice it, the aches and the discomfort and the imbalance and limited motion. You are still healing. They should be gentle."

Cloverpaw sighed. "I just wish I was better. I wanna be done healing."

"Healing takes time, love," Amberheart replied soothingly. Cloverpaw looked at her and opened his mouth to protest, but one look at her expression pacified him. There was so much love. Her face was soft and warm as she reassured, "You must give yourself the time to heal, but you will heal. Someday this will be in the past. Others may try to carry it into the future, but it's your future. Not theirs. You are more than what happened to you."

Cloverpaw's vision blurred slightly, and he asked in a soft voice that made him feel like a small kit again, "Do you really mean that, Amberheart?"

The starry tabby nodded. "I do," she answered. She stopped walking, and Cloverpaw stopped as well, gazing at her with wanting eyes. What more could she tell him? He didn't know how badly he had needed the reassurance that he was going to be okay. Amberheart smiled and told him gently, the words from earlier ringing faithfully, "You are clever, quick, strong and brave. You are more than enough for WindClan. My hope is that you learn to be enough for you."

The ancestor's soft pelt was suddenly swept away by a breeze, and like sand off a cliff the world began to fall away. Cloverpaw stepped towards his grandmother, and though his paws met nothing and she was nowhere in sight, he called to her, "Thank you! I'll tell dad I saw you." The dream world felt like a smile, and then it was gone.

---

Cloverpaw let out a soft huff of air; his breath blew back into his face, reflected off the surface of the Moonstone. Slowly his pale eyes flickered open, the remnants of his dream of the warm moors disappearing from his memory like stars in the morning sky. He sat up and looked around, trying to find Aspenheart as the mystical rock began to dim. The apprentice's eyes were soft as he said, "Thank you, Aspenheart. For everything. I'm glad I have you." Then he stood, ready to head back home.

He would be enough.