All My Heroes Got Tired {closed}

The smiles in camp were a façade, one Finchstar knew well. As a wielder of optimism and bluffs, the tom could tell when he was subject to his own arts. It was a volatile combination, both his stubbornness and blinding hope for the future. Finchstar had slipped at the gathering, he had become too confident for his own good. In the name of love, it seemed a noble cause to speak out against StarClan. He had ignored the flashes of lightning and the falling stars. Finchstar's goal was so great, it wasn't difficult to imagine the rest of the world could be as well. So he remained unfazed by StarClan's wrath, knowing they had an agenda just as he did. Finchstar held his head high, but he left himself open for retribution. It wasn't long until the rest of camp heard about his act of defense toward Thornstar and Torrentstar, two leaders who had fallen in love - or so he assumed. Torrentstar's declaration seemed to even further weaken the WindClan leader's ploy towards their starry ancestors. Barleytuft had been disappointed. His cream tabby friend and mentor had always felt strongly towards StarClan. Finchstar didn't blame him for his anger, nor did he blame the rest of the clan. It was Aspenheart he avoided the most. The medicine cat had put his life on the line to speak StarClan's prophecy, and Finchstar discarded him. He winced as another fit of coughs wracked his frame.

Whitecough had found a place in his lungs this past moon. It was expected. It was leafbare after all. Barleytuft had been afflicted by the same disease, Finchstar found himself glad the rest of the clan hadn't been exposed yet. The tom supposed his battle with the eagle a few sunrises ago had worsened his condition. Downpaw, Olivepaw, and Grousefrost were safe. And that was all that mattered. But the cuts and lacerations in Finchstar's pelt had only been tended to by Softpaw, the medicine cat apprentice. Finchstar knew he would only receive more wounds if he sought Aspenheart's advice. His stubborn heart was unwilling to admit his stance was wrong, yet Finchstar could sense the tension in the air. To him, StarClan was made of the cats who had come before, each with their own experiences and wisdom. They were sage counselors, and wise elders. But the wayward tom often found himself removed from their laws. Stars, he sounded like Brookclover. At the thought of his mate, Finchstar smiled. She had never been fond of StarClan after the battle during their kithood, ending in Lichenmask's death. They were both born under the red sun, and as a result, they were both raised to believe StarClan wise, but not without mistakes. Their starry ancestors had seen far more, but did it give them the power to alter the lives of those who had not yet lived? Finchstar dug his claws into the dried ground, standing before the medicine den, giving up.

His coughs had grown far more frequent, his nose was runny and his lacerations from their eagle-excursion had only half healed. But it was his heart that bothered him. He disagreed with Aspenheart. But they were brothers, not by blood, but by circumstance. His former apprentice, and current counselor, Finchstar could not proceed without coming to terms with his favorite gray tabby. Swallowing apprehensively, the leader stepped into the sandy hollow beneath the clifffalls of dirt. The sun sat high in the sky, yet it did not provide any warmth. Finchstar coughed, this time not out of necessity, but to grab Aspenheart's attention. His yellow eyes flickered to his friend's blue-green ones. "I could say I've come for a leaf to soothe my cough, but I'd much rather ask for your advice instead. If you have enough grace to spare..."

The medicine den was dark, not just in Leafbare lighting, but in the great black shadow that Aspenheart had cast over it upon his arrival from the Moonstone. Softpaw had been distant. He did not make any further movements. He retired to the back corner of his den, chattering softly to his spiders and tending to the whitecough-stricken warriors in his care. His outburst on the night of the halfmoon had been warranted, he decided stubbornly. Perhaps he was justified not in intensity, but in intent. A cat could only go so many moons speaking voicelessly before he snapped. Aspenheart laid his blame instead with WindClan, turning his back on them. He slept alone, worked alone, spoke curtly to his apprentice, and did not eat. Bold of any cat to assume he needed to eat. Ha! All he needed were his prey bones and quail feathers. His experiments were going quite well, all things considered. They did not heal the gash in his heart.

Time went on, and Aspenheart felt the tug of guilt drawing him out of his stupor. For most of the day, he ignored it. The medicine cat continued his vow of silence. He could hear the whispers of the rest of WindClan, but he didn't much care. Why should he care? He had no authority after all. Even to his apprentice, a mere kit, he was a poor weakling. A cripple! He should have never taken on such a large bearing when he could barely find it in him to walk four foxlengths some days. But at the same time… he felt more qualified than anybody. So, har-rumph to anyone who told him that he was wrong. Aspenheart had divine authority, he was chosen.

If that were really true, then why did he feel like dung about it? What was this strange sorrow within him? He really did believe he was in the right… it was everybody else who was completely misguided. Of course, it had to be that he was lonely. But it was in Softpaw’s best interest that he stopped her before something else happened, and she would have to learn to accept that. WindClan would have to learn to accept that. Aspenheart didn’t have time for apologetics. There was a prophecy to reveal and a hailstorm to prepare for.

Finchstar’s pelt looked like fire as he stood in the entrance to the den, coming to consume Aspenheart and scorch his silver pelt until it was charred and blackened. Had he a sense of humor these days, he might’ve told Finchstar this, asked if he was planning on smiting him. There was no such laughter to be had, though. Aspenheart patted the closest nest wordlessly, inviting the older tom to sit as he went to gather the necessary herbs. Softpaw was out. It was to be expected. They hadn’t talked about it. If Barleytuft knew what Aspenheart had done, he didn’t make it known, which was even worse a scenario than if he had been left in the dark, because it meant he was furious. At least Finchstar had come with his tail tucked between his legs. Aspenheart had dreamed of the moment ever since the Gathering debacle, but now that it was here… the smugness was gone. He set the herbs down at Finchstar’s paws. That ginger-and-white tom sucked the pride and arrogance right out of him every time, and he was reminded why WindClan put all their faith in him, even when it was misguided at best.

“I’m not sure I’m entitled to an I-told-you-so,” he sighed, settling down across from the leader. “I had one prepared, honest. I was going to tell you that if you were going to openly defy StarClan that you could’ve waited for me to get off the rock first. I was going to give you a hard time about putting WindClan in jeopardy. I was going to demand I be given more authority. But I can’t even get mad. I’m just sad. Everything is sad.” Aspenheart scuffed the dirt beneath his paw. “And you scared the dung out of me. I wish you hadn’t done that. And I’m still angry, by the way! I’m just… I dunno, being quiet about it. I’m out of rage. I’m just hurt.”

The leader couldn't choose which words to speak, so instead filled his maw with the herbs Aspenheart provided. Finchstar winced from the bitterness, but really it was from gazing at his friend again. They seemed to end up here often. It was a brotherly fight, one that was inevitable from a witty cat and a sarcastic genius. They collided perfectly, made WindClan's leadership a volatile combination. With Finchstar's poetic justice and Aspenheart's chaotic sense of being, they lead their friends on through the darkness. However this time their roles had been reversed. This time Finchstar spoke out against the name of StarClan. This time the chaotic streak found his heart instead. Finchstar had always been a cheeky cat, with a knack for ignoring consequences for the sake of optimism. However his confidence blinded him. A veil hug over his eyes, and how he stood in front of his former apprentice, friend, and counselor, asking for forgiveness.

"Aspenheart, I..." Finchstar frowned as the medicine cat spoke his feelings. He was right, he had thrown WindClan into the dirt. A younger Finchstar may have said that good intentions could do no harm. However Finchstar was older now, he had learned time and time again that no matter the hope for the outcome, actions would bring an effect that did not depend on what the prosecutor thought. Finchstar's good intentions paled in comparison to StarClan's future wrath. The leader dug his claws into the ground and stifled a hiss, hating that he was once again at the mercy of something he could not see. That was Aspenheart's specialty. "Do you agree with them?" Finchstar choked, struggling to wrap his mind around StarClan's opinions.

"How can our ancestors before us, who were born from love, now forsake the very thing that made them? If what we saw on the rock was true, both RiverClan and ShadowClan are at the mercy of our starry ancestors. Not for murder, not for betrayal, but for love." Finchstar cut off as another stroke of coughing had him hunched over. His yellow eyes watered and he lashed his tail. "Has StarClan lost their minds? Forgive me if I sound angry, but how dare they? They have had their chance to live, and now they have the audacity to alter the lives of those now living. Call me a blasphemer, but Aspenheart..."

Finchstar forced himself to sit and meant his medicine cat's eyes with a frustrated stare. His stubbornness was a hardy thing, but the tom was weary. After what seemed like an eternity, Finchstar let a long sigh escape his maw and he hung his head, shoulders hunched. "Forgive me, friend. My anger will fix nothing. If anything StarClan may smite me down first." The tom tried to lighten things with a cynical chuckle, gazing up at his friend. "You're nervous, Aspenheart. I'm sure my actions did nothing to heal your mental state. Perhaps I have thrown WindClan into the fire as well. They shouldn't have been left to the mercy of my opinions..." Finchstar coughed once more and scuffed the cold sand with a paw, sighing. "I don't know why fear hasn't found me yet either. The clan is sick, StarClan is angry... I feel like a rabbit after he's been pinned, waiting for the bite to his throat." The leader squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of the all the ways he had let his clan down. It scared him now, to peel of his hopeful pelt and gaze into realism. He owed Aspenheart an apology. He owed WindClan an apology. But should he apologize for defending the very thing that made him?

"What did you learn? From your trip to the moonstone? What shall we do?"

Aspenheart listened with a now-tempered ego as Finchstar laid down his hardened armor, his sword, and his shield. When StarClan deemed a cat suitable to become a medicine cat, they did not overtly mention the unique role that came along with being a spiritual guide for the clan... Everybody's business was suddenly the business of the medicine cat. This was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Finchstar would seek out Aspenheart's unique perspective of the world. There was a great burden to be had in one's opinion having some level of substance. When the world looked to you, it was difficult not to cower. Being of emotional assistance was not a duty that Aspenheart took lightly, nor was it a bane to him. The true scourge of his noteworthy and seemingly lofty position was the continuous effort to not set himself apart from his WindClan brothers. In this, Aspenheart knew, he was failing miserably.

Aspenheart recalled thinking that he and Finchstar were two branches of the same tree. They both derived their motivation from their strong, almost crazed, passion for whatever it was that pulled them close. For Aspenheart, it was knowledge, experimentation, and philosophy. In Finchstar's case, his passion was for acts of love, unity, and prosperity. In this way, they were deeply offset, and they had concocted a maelstrom circumstance where their differences were clashing violently... passionately. Finchstar sought radical action with no thought to the consequences of their disobedience. Aspenheart sought ceasefire, no matter what freedoms were temporarily relinquished, because decisions could only be made in peace. The medicine cat saw this, he understood this, but he knew they were at somewhat of an impasse. If he was to be the first to give way, so be it.

"I don't agree with them, Finch," Aspenheart sighed, shuffling around until he was comfortable, lying at an equal height to WindClan's sovereign. "In fact, I think there's something extremely suspicious about the way they're going about this. But the point was not to agree with them at the time. The point was that if we keep pushing, they won't even give us the formality of a heads-up before they cursed WindClan until the end of days. I will grant you that it was cowardly, and that I could've been a little less complicit. If I don't at least give you something, we'll never reach common ground." The medicine cat clawed sharply at the mossy floor of the den, pondering his next sentence. "We all got the same message. Shadow, Wind, River, Thunder, Sky: separate and defined. So it always has been and always shall be. Blood traitors, all of you, dismantling clans and kin for your own selfish desires. If the leaders of the earthen ground will not punish your treason, you will face the wrath of the stars. You have been warned."

Aspenheart jolted to his paws and continued pacing. "And whoever is leading the march is looking at it in black-and-white!" he hissed. "This isn't really like StarClan, to make demands and take such extreme action. There is no grey with them right now. They basically said, 'Don't like it? Leave,' like that's supposed to make us feel better. That is so incredibly off that I can't even begin to tell you how nervous it makes me."

He didn't pause for a half-breath before continuing: "I'm not saying what they're doing is right, but what I am saying is that we don't know enough about their plan to start getting militant. I think that ShadowClan and RiverClan are the objects of a lot of spiritual criticism right now, and that this was probably a long time in the making."

Aspenheart looked outside of the medicine den, at the shuffling and mewing of cats outside. It was a halcyon depiction of the clan as a whole. Not every day would be so bright, sunny, and free. There was an enormous moral responsibility on Aspenheart's shoulders, and he knew deep down that there would never be any such thing as love that could openly cross borders. It would never work, not even in theory. The ideals that Finchstar clutched in this difficult time were admirable, and the medicine cat longed for the day when they all came true. But reality was more multi-colored than that. There were layers to the issues that plagued the forest as of late, and it seemed as though StarClan was making a decision for them in this troubled time. Finchstar's optimism held at least one tenable truth: this too would pass. The days that meandered between then and the meantime were the ones that they both struggled to grasp.

"While I wish everything was daffodils and songbirds like you see it, I can't justify disregarding the Code all together. Forbidden relationships... they get messy. Generally, it seems like it doesn't even work unless somebody moves. And when somebody moves, they have to entirely commit to a new way of life away from everybody they love. When it works, it's rare. Even Dappleshine, who was exiled from RiverClan, still has to live with the pain of being away from her family's clan. That kind of hurt doesn't go away. And these ancient leaders... they saw this, they took it, and they're bringing it to this grinding halt. And I still can't figure out how they plan on doing that." Aspenheart tapped Finchstar's paw with his own, smiling like an imp. "If we agreed on everything, there wouldn't be nearly enough chaos in this camp to keep me busy. I'm sure you realized that. Sometimes, I antagonize you on purpose, just to keep you on your toes!"