Salamanderpaw's Moonstone Journey

The time had come once more for one of Silent Snows' now-orphaned kits to make the journey to the Moonstone with Mothglow. The medicine cat in question sighed deeply as she chewed on her own traveling herbs, the second bundle - for Salamanderpaw - set safely aside. She swallowed, finally, and lifted the remaining bundle. Dropping it gently outside the apprentice's den, she called, "Salamanderpaw!"

(Why had her sister chosen such a mouthful of a name for her kit? It was hard enough to call for an apprentice without tripping over her own tongue! ...Not that she would say any of that out loud, of course.)

Salamander grunted as a mew from outside his den woke him up. In his half-awake haze, the voice sounded just like his late mother, and he practically jumped up from his nest in excitement. The calico turned around, only to see his black-furred aunt at the entrance instead. Oh. Still, he forced himself to keep up his rebellious, “I-don’t-care” look, even if he just wanted to sleep the loss away. ”What is it?” he grumbled.

Mothglow twitched her tail in greeting, placing a cheerful smile on her face. It wasn't like this was a sad day, after all, as much as she still missed her sister. "Come on now, get up! We're going to the Moonstone. But not before you eat these," she added, gesturing to the bundle of herbs. "You don't want to fall asleep on the way, do you? Um... Actually, maybe don't answer that."

Salamander sighed as he cleaned up his fur and made his nest. Something about the medicine cat’s cheerful attitude made him upset, but he wasn’t sure what. Once he was done, he ambled over and nibbled on the herb packet. Great Burnt, that was awful. It tasted like mouse dung and Carrionplace meat mixed together and amplified. With a groan, he forced the rest of it down, gagging slightly. He looked back up at the black she-cat for further guidance.

That taken care of, Mothglow led the way out of camp with a swish of her tail; continuing across the territory. She walked swiftly, but the silence between them bothered her. They were kin, after all; and family ties meant something to her. "Are you alright, Salamanderpaw?" It wasn't one of her usual questions for this trip, but... It seemed fitting, even as they crossed the Thunderpath and eventually approached their destination.

"Here we are. Stay close, you don't want to get lost," she warned before stepping into the tunnel. A warning that was second nature to her now, as familiar as the path itself. As they emerged into the Moonstone's cavern, she smiled softly. "Touch your nose to the Moonstone, and close your eyes... When you wake up, we'll start heading home. And, um... One more thing. If you happen to see your mother? Please tell her I'm sorry."

For everything.

The path to the stone had been long. And quiet. Even as the shadowy bog transitioned into peaceful moor, Salamander couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. He didn’t know why- they were kin, and even if his mother chose a different path from her, she harbored no ill feelings towards him. The black she-cat was, surprisingly, one of the few friendly faces in camp. The calico was quite surprised when she brought up the question. ”It’s just...” he mumbled. How was he supposed to say this? ”I remember a lot of things from my childhood. Shade doesn’t remember, but I do. I remember my... father. He’d talk about how bad Starclan was, and how evil they were, or something. Everybody loved him, and some treated him like he was more than just a cat, but a savior of some sort.” He kicked a pebble away with his paw. Would a medicine cat, a follower of Starclan, be offended by him telling her this? ”I believed he was, too. But now he’s gone, and so is everyone who worshipped him. It’s strange. I mean, I used to hear cats praying his name, but now I’m going to the worship of his greatest enemy. I don’t really know what to believe.”

Soon enough, they were at the oddly-square cave. The temple of Starclan, place of destiny, or whatever silly titles cats assigned it. Salamander followed right behind the medicine cat, his whiskers brushing against the wet stone. It was a long, twisted path, filled with skidding rocks and slick puddles. Soon, he entered into the great cavern. In the center held the fated Moonstone, a gleaming hunk of raw gemstone shining in the light. His throat tightened. Would his father look down upon him for touching his nose to the stone? His black-and-ginger body hesitated before the crystal. Frustrated, he tried to shake those thoughts out of his head. This was his life. Not his father’s. So if he wanted to touch his nose to some stupid stone, he’ll do it, regardless of whatever some now-dead cats revered about him. A pink nose made contact with the icy jewel. A rush of icy cold, then numbness, then nothing.

Whatever that’ll happen now was completely in Starclan’s paws.

The voice came softly.

A gentle murmur, soothing and calm. It sounded like kithood and happy dreams. It looked like contentment and tasted like periwinkle.

It was a voice he loved. It was a voice he hated. It was a voice he never wanted to hear again. It was a voice that rang in his head every waking moment.

Salamander opened his eyes. The calico now stood in a star-clad marsh: a perfect version of his homeland. The reeds shifted dreamily and trees billowed like clouds. A soft breeze blew against his mottled fur, carrying the sounds of angelic birdsong with them. He was no longer in the freezing, damp caves- he was in the land of stars. It took him a second to remember why he was here in the first place. His stonemoon trip, right? Lunar-rock? Whatever it was called, the young tom was simply interested in getting over it as quick as possible. So far, all he’d experienced was some pretty marsh and an unnerving call. It had done a good job at scaring him, but where was the rest? Everyone seemed to revere the messages they got from their ancestors, but all that was happening was not what he expected.

Salamander only had to turn around for all of those thoughts to flee from his mind.

The owner of the voice stood just behind him. The one he loved. The one he hated. Her fur was the color of infinite clouds, and her eyes were endless pools of water. She looked wise and young all at once. Battleborne and dainty. Infinite and nonexistent.

She looked like herself. Silent Snows.

A rush of emotions flooded Sally’s body. His legs trembled, his ears flattened. The world spun around him in a mandala of colors. He wanted to embrace her. He wanted to screech. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. He wanted to claw out her eyes. ”I... I” his voice warbled with a storm of thoughts. Had she been watching him this whole time? Had she turned the other way?

Hot, ugly tears ran down his fur. ”I’m s-so sorry,” he gasped out between his sobs. All the personas he wore since that fateful morning were stripped bare before his mother. All the harsh words he gave, fights he started, they all shattered beneath her crystalline gaze. ”I’m such a di-disappointment.” She wanted so much more from him, she must have. He’d been given all the second chances, all the opportunities, and he still reclused himself from everyone nearby. Salamander’s head dropped down towards the grass, tears splattering onto the spectral flora below. He didn’t want to see the sadness in her eyes, or in his own, reflected back in that gaze.

Salamander took in his mother’s embrace with no hesitation. He rested his mottled head atop her snow-white chest, taking deep, shaky breaths. Her beautiful fur, her kind gaze, the way she purred- he missed it all so, so much. It made him think of his childhood, back when he could play and sleep and run around whenever he could, knowing he always had his parents to go back to at the end of the night.

Back when he was happy.

He wanted to lose himself in this moment, to close his eyes and never wake up again. Silent Snows was here, and that was all he wanted. It was all he ever asked for. It was so much better than the waking world, where Salamander was constantly met with side glances and muffled whispers. But here, no one made fun of him, or hissed at him, or anything else they did. It was just him and his mother, alone. The happiest moment of his life, even as he wept onto her starry white fur.

But what she said made him feel his heart breaking all over again.

”You apologize? You apologize?” he hissed, pushing himself away from the celestial body. ”I should be the one apologizing for everything!” Haunted memories raced through Sally’s head, full of blood and death and screaming. ”What if, when Dad killed Wildstrike, I stopped him? Then Shadowclan might’ve been a bit nicer and let Stagclan still exist!”

”Or what if I stopped him from o-ordering Flintshard to kill him, and then everything would have been fine? And he’ll still be alive, right next to me?” Salamander’s claws raked across the starry ground. “What if I convinced Scorchstar to leave Stagclan alone? Or evacuated the clan before it all happened?”

“W-what if, when Cinderface k-killed Night, I jumped in her place? What if she was still f-fine and happy a-and just... living? Night was so perfect. She was the smartest and the kindest and the bravest of us. Why did she have to die?” Oh, poor Night. Her face flashed across his mind- the sharp eyes, whiskers twitching with laughter. The way her neck snapped when she hit the nursery ground. He slammed the ground with an unsheathed paw, a loud wail erupting from his muzzle. ”I should have died in her place!”