Half Light {closed}

A rhythmic wheezing progressed through Finchstar's body, every step taken dragged him closer to camp. His clan followed behind him, shuffling into their nests in the rye. He distanced himself purposefully, knowing his sickness could infect a kit as easily as a bee could pollinate a flower. The sky was dark, moon waning as it slowly paid its dues and said goodbye. The gathering was a tell. If Finchstar been more alert - he perhaps could have picked up a sign. StarClan now seemed farther away than ever, Brookclover had always thought the same. Unable to think anymore, the tom lowered himself into his nest behind the Tallrock, breath shaky. His yellow eyes watered as he stared up at the stars, confused, angry. His viewpoints no longer aligned with StarClan's. Normally Finchstar would be conflicted, but a combination of his stubbornness and his allegiance to Brookclover stopped such a thing. His late mate had never felt strongly about their starry ancestors either. It was their spawning of Lichenmask that had changed her opinions then. They were both born into the red sun, they had both seen the eclipse and the consequences of StarClan's mistakes. It would be different is their starry ancestors could show some remorse, however yet again they toyed with lives that were not their own.

A painful hiss ripped through Finchstar's chest as he rolled over in his nest. The tom prayed his clanmates wouldn't find him here, he knew what was progressing. No herbs could stave off his whitecough, and soon it morphed into something much more sinister. Having died four times before, he no longer feared what would become of this sickness. What he did fear, however, was the details. His family, friends, and loved ones resided in the very place he disobeyed. Did Brookclover agree with the rest of StarClan? Or was she held captive due to Finchstar's living actions? What of his sons? Ryepelt and Cricketstar? What happened to those lost? Finchstar winced and thought of Raventail and Aspenheart's parents. He thought of Rabbitleap who died for him, of Puddlepaw and Frozenpaw. Nostalgia ate at his heart as the leader realized how much time had passed. He had known these cats in life, and dug his claws into the ground as he imagined what they thought now.

Finchstar could never bring himself to denounce love, not in the name of StarClan, not in the name of WindClan, not in the name of the Code. His friends were made from love, it was the foundation of life itself. WindClan was not StarClan who created it, but rather the cats who drew love to uphold it. If Finchstar was to be labeled a rebel for supporting such a thing, then so be it. He had loved fiercer than LionClan. He had lost love, and he had gained it. He knew the details and the strings attached, he would not let it down in the name of ancestors long before. He uphold his morals now for Brookclover, his lifeblood. His values would never falter in the face of such a thing. And his stubbornness would prove deadly.

A coughing fit wracked Finchstar's frame, yellow eyes streaming tears as his throat caught fire. His head swam like the sun, impossibly warm. The rye around him twisted until it was a blur. A haziness fell over his vision, and the leader laid his head down, closing his eyes. He knew death stalked him in the night, but Finchstar did not cower. The black of the underside of his eyelids shifted to blue, then red, then nothing. Finchstar found himself once more in darkness, free of his Greencough, from his body. But should he be meant here, or had he truly severed ties with StarClan?

The gray tabby she-cat stood outlined against the darkness, her dark stripes melding with the back expanse around her and contrasting against the stars woven in her fur. Her pale green eyes stood out, glaring at the tom that appeared before her in calm indifference, her tail draped over her paws. She had watched each of the leaders that followed her in guiding the future of WindClan with interest, and though she had disagreed with the motivations of some, she had respected them all - in her own way.

Finchstar was different.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight before her, the starry figure of the tom more solid than it had been just moments ago. Did this hare-brain have no regard for who he left behind, what he was leaving behind when he refused help or aid? Clearly not, considering all of the times he had placed himself in danger with no regard for the consequences. Her lip curled slightly as the body before her stirred, and she remained silent while Finchstar opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. It wasn't only himself he had no regard for, something made clear by his passionate outbursts of proclaiming love and defending the heinous violations of the code.

This tom had no understanding of what it meant to be a leader, nor of the consequences of his actions. Was his head still stuck in the remnants of the breeze of his mate who had been called from him so long ago? She sighed, that was why she was here, after all. To try to finally knock some sense into this so-called leader, to try to set her clan's paws back on the right path.

"Rise, Finchstar, and face me."

The darkness wasn't as steadfast as it had been last time. Finchstar arose healthy, standing in the gloom, but this time the endless expanse of black was split by a gray tabby she-cat, one whom Finchstar had never meant before. She carried an air of sophistication to her, nose tilted slightly upward as she called for him to rise. The leader's yellow eyes blinked, still taking in the sight of this strange cat before finding his paws. There was space to wonder what this starry cat wished from him. A message perhaps? Finchstar wished to discover on his own terms, and a slight grin fell across his maw. The game of wits had begun. Even in death, his mouth would lead his paws.

"I assume you are angry, standing here to greet me when I usually die in silence. You see, I've become quiet experienced with death. I used to fear it, and then I longed for it, but I do believe as I've grown older, I've become content to just be. The end of my life will come in time, and who am I to decide when? It begs the question then, if we are to get philosophical, who is StarClan to decide either? You see, cat. These are the questions I've been asking myself recently. However now that you are here, it seems the correct time to discuss."

Finchstar's grin grew wider, and his tail flicked side to side, sending unknown waves into the void. The darkness was not warm, nor was it cold. It simply was nothing. Freedom from his greencough felt good, he could taste the air again, smell the ryegrass. The only predicament was that they were not on WindClan territory. They were here, in the nothing. The tom wondered whether his scars would transfer over to the afterlife - if StarClan deemed him worthy of entry. Finchstar gazed down at his chest and found that he was nothing as well. The cat before him, nothing. Sweet nothing. It was a lonely feeling, life without the starry forests of StarClan's realm. There was no ethereal birds, no glittering grasses. Finchstar couldn't feel the ground, nor could he scent the wind. He felt free, but trapped. Yellow eyes blinking ever so slowly, the tom convinced himself that if there ever was a time to be brave - this was it.

"Tell me, stranger. Should I consider you my ancestor? One would think of you with WindClan blood. The tabby stripes, the longer legs. You remind me of a few clanmates who share similar features. I assume I should ask the question you've been waiting for, then. Who are you? And why have you come?"

"Assumptions will only place you in the fangs of trouble, Finchstar. I am not angry, not at all. Who am I to be angry with one who lacks the knowledge to fully understand the consequences of his actions? You do not hold anger to a kit who draws blood from your tail with their sharp kitten teeth, do you? It is much the same, you see." Galestar blinked slowly, her ear twitching slightly as she regarded Finchstar. His words sparked annoyance in her chest, but she continued to regard him with a cool air of indifference, the uninterested mask on her face remaining uninterrupted. "Perhaps your deaths have been silent because you have forced them to be so by demanding that you walk alone, too frightened to allow your clanmates, your family, to walk beside you? Have you considered that option, Finchstar, the leader who would sooner fly on the breeze like the bird he was named for? There are some things that just are, and even I know not the true answers to their riddles. I am not here to argue the manners of life of death, Finchstar, for there is nothing to argue. It just is, and the sooner you accept that sometimes things are the way they are for no discernable reason the more enlightened you will be."

A smile flickered over her maw as she blinked once again, her eyelids slowly closing over her eyes before her head straightened from it's slight tilt. "It does not matter to me what you consider me, I do not care much for what others have to say regarding their opinions of me. The fact is that I am of WindClan ancestry, the blood of the moors runs as strongly through my veins as it possibly could. I expect nothing of you, as you have already proven to me that you are incapable of even meeting expectations, but I will humor your questions. I am Galestar, a previous leader of WindClan, the steadfast and quick-witted cats of the moors. As for why I'm here - I'm sure you already know that, with your assumptions." A paw flashed out into the darkness between the two cats, and a pale vision of WindClan's camp appeared before them, blanketed in a silently falling snow. The camp was still, as if on the verge of something, when the quietest of noises began. A subdued wail, a low groan of pain. Then the coughing started, growing louder and more frequent as the camp took on a gray and orange hue.

The sounds grew to an almost overwhelming roar, but Galestar did not even flinch as she stared at Finchstar, watching him stoically. Suddenly, the noise stopped, and in a flash the camp turned a brilliant shade of crimson before the ground returned to black. "The future is grim, Finchstar, and you are one of the key reasons as to why WindClan is facing one of its hardest trials yet. As the leader, you were expected, demanded, to place your clan first. Above all else, you were called to take into consideration your clan's needs and desires before any and everything, including yourself. By indulging in your own sick, twisted games, flirting with the blood traitors of the clans as well as accepting those who have never known the breeze in their whiskers for even a sunrise with no question, you have a paw in the doom that lingers over WindClan. Of all of the clans. I have come to warn you, one final time, and issue a promise. If you do not mend your ways, and mind that which has been known for generations before you and will continue generations following you, you will meet your end. WindClan will not fall with a traitor and a coward at it's head. Take that how you will, Finchbreeze.

Galestar stood then, stretching her front legs out before her as her back arched. "Well, this has certainly been fun, hasn't it? I do hope the next time we meet it's on better terms. I will tell Brookclover you say hello, although I'm cure that the constant hovering of your steadily filling shadow is a good enough reminder that you're never far behind." Standing straight, Galestar turned her back to the leader before looking over her shoulder. "You assumed I was angry, and you were wrong. I'm not angry - I'm simply disappointed. You let me down, Finchstar, and you've let all of StarClan and WindClan - past, present, and future - down as well. I pray you are able to remedy your mistakes before it is too late. You are dismissed, now off with you." The tabby she-cat faded into the darkness, the glittering of stars in her pelt fading quickly as the surroundings took on a darker, more sinister feeling before the land of StarClan was closed on the leader's mind.