Journey (Closed, solo topic)

For the first time in moons, Lynxtail was smiling. It was small and felt strange on his muzzle, but he welcomed it all the same.

The young warrior glanced at the tunnel. Night would be falling shortly– already, the sky was becoming a deeper, more saturated blue. He stared at it now, taking a moment to appreciate it's beauty. For moons, the world was wrapped in a blanket of grey, foglike and suffocating. The sky hadn't been this vivid in a long, long time.
Although he'd been walking all day, the golden-brown tom was eager to continue on his journey. Casting one last glance at the darkening sky, he stepped gingerly into the tunnel and the dark. It instantly shrouded him. As he walked, he longed for the sky and the dying embers of the sunlight, but he knew that the sooner he reached the Moonstone, the better.

The walk through the tunnels was more confusing than he'd anticipated, but Lynxtail's paws faintly remembered the way. He let them guide him deeper and deeper into the caverns and he soon emerged into the large main chamber.
His breath caught in his throat. The Moonstone was already lit, and the light of it seemed to fill the entire cavern with a tangible, swirling glow. It was otherworldly, and for a moment, all he could do was stare.
After a while, he noticed that the air around him seemed to be moving. Now that he noticed it, he could practically see the air flowing in front of him, carrying the ancient, unrecognizable scents of venerated warriors, former medicine cats, leaders so old their names had been lost to time. One of them was here, he was sure of it- a Starclan warrior, ready to guide him to his family.
He slowly approached the Moonstone, his eyes bright and reverent. After moons of darkness, here he was, about to step into the light at last. He would be able to say farewell to Leopardclaw, talk to Sparkfrost. He'd find out where his sister went and bring her home.

Lynxtail set his jaw. Carefully, slowly, he inched closer to it. He could practically see his breath fogging the surface of the crystal.
He gently tapped it with his nose and then stood back, waiting to wake up in Starclan.

And then, he didn't.

Lynxtail squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that small, beady spots of light danced in the black space between his eyelids. He waited for a soft, sweet-smelling breeze to ruffle his fur. His ears swiveled, trying to find any sound besides the steady drip, drip, drip of water running down the cave wall that could indicate he was somewhere else.
All he wanted was to be somewhere else.

He suddenly found himself gripped by fierce determination. He hadn't come all this way, left his duties, his clanmates behind, for nothing. Eyes snapping open, he faced the glowing rock once more and pressed his nose against it, wincing as the cold made his eyes water. After a moment, he nudged it with his forehead. Then he reached out with one paw and tapped it once, tentatively, and then again.
Lynxtail could hear his heartbeat rustling in his ears. "No," Chest now rising and falling with rapid desperation, the young tom swatted at the Moonstone, wincing as his claws glanced harmlessly off the crystalline surface and sent a wave of pain running up his foreleg. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Cats could speak to Starclan through the Moonstone. He'd done it before when he was an apprentice– why wasn't it working now? What had changed?
"No!" He turned and drove his shoulder into it, then clawed at it again, resolved to try every tactic his panic-stricken mind could conjure. Lynxtail ran around it, reared onto his hind legs and pressed both paws against it.
Nothing. It was as if this was just a normal rock... But he knew that it was the Moonstone- as far as he knew, there was only one glowing rock in this cave system.
After what felt like hours of trying, the young warrior sat down heavily, his thin flanks heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He squinted intently at the stone but saw nothing except his reflection staring uselessly back out at him. He would wait here for them to speak.
But they didn't. His muscles stiffened and his back ached. Desperation turned to confusion, which slowly became dull, cold anger. He narrowed his eyes at his reflection, his stomach churning like a great icy snake was writhing furiously just beneath his skin. He felt his throat swell and vomited on the white stone. Nose wrinkling, Lynxtail forced himself to his paws, his joints squealing in protest, and paced back and forth.
How dare they- how dare they take his family from him, then dangle them just out of reach. Starclan was cruel to let him believe that he'd see them again. Was all of this just a game to them? "It's not FUNNY!" He screamed, but his words only echoed, then faded away. He turned back to the Moonstone with a wild snarl, slashing savagely at the stone until he barely had the energy to stand. His claws had been dulled to small nubs barely visible beyond his aching, bleeding paws. His throat felt raw.
"What am I supposed to do?"

The silence was answer enough.
Lynxtail cast one last hate-filled glance at the Moonstone and strode back towards the tunnel, leaving bloody pawprints in his wake. When he stepped into the open, he felt hot tears scorching his cheeks. He rubbed his eyes furiously and knew that his paws had stained the fur on his face with streaks of dull red.