Hope Is The Thing With Feathers [Mourning Finchstar, open]

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ooc: takes place immediately after April's Gathering.

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Clovertwist carried Finchstar's body home, with Aspenheart at his side. It wasn't real yet. There was a sinking feeling in the wily old cat's soul that whispered, "No, it never will be." Someone else carried Softpaw, who slumbered softly, but was not dead. She was lucky to have been spared. Galestar's eyes had been kind and warm, motherly and doting, but she struck Finchstar down with a rage that he had never seen. It couldn't be the Dark Forest. Only StarClan's fury could do that. Aspenheart feared many things, but the thing he feared most of all were the faces and wails of the cats who had missed this Gathering as they lay the two unconscious cats down. One would wake, and one would not. Their beloved leader, who ruled with a soft and tempered paw, would never again quip in the medicine den, would never again christen a warrior with a warm honey smile, and would never again enjoy a sunrise at the side of his friend. Aspenheart felt selfish for thinking of himself.

Clovertwist laid the ginger body down. Was Brookclover there with him? Did she smirk and greet him? Were his kits beside her? He accepted death, touched noses with it, and smiled. He did not rage against the dying light. There was no battle. All of WindClan cried out for his life, and he didn't listen. Finchstar was often foolish, he was often blind, but he was not so stubborn that he would die to prove a point... Or would he?

Aspenheart blinked. There was a meaning somewhere. In his final moments, he conveyed his last message to the forest. It was too bad that Aspenheart was too stupid to see it sooner. He had defended StarClan, he had feared them, and he had let them take grip of his heart. Finchstar had done more for WindClan than Aspenheart ever would. He was a beacon now, shining over them. A martyr. Tonight, WindClan mourned a hero who may have known better than any of them. When Aspenheart looked up from his paws, the first thing he saw was his sleeping apprentice. A deep, unyielding, fiery horror filled his stomach, chest, face, head, ears, and all the way back down to his claws. His breaths became more labored as hot tears stained his cheeks. "WindClan!" he yowled. "StarClan came to the Gathering. They cursed Softpaw with sleep. They... they... they took Finchstar. He died with dignity... he... he didn't fight. He... didn't let them get the best of him."

He threw his weak paws over Finchstar's body, pressed his face to the dead leader's throat, and sucked in heavy breaths as wicked sobs shook his frail form. His first mentor, his greatest friend, his confidant. Dead. Slain. What was worse, he had allowed it. Was Aspenheart a selfish beast for wishing he would have thought of the sunrise? He tried to stop the garbled string of whispers that escaped his muzzle, but despite his objections, they persisted.

"You great, bloody, foolish, stubborn, beautiful, insightful, idealistic... idiot! You left us... I can't help them... What will I do..?"

Haykit poked her head from the nursery at the sound of pawsteps, tail twitching behind her in uncertainty. It was hard to get used to the life she now lived - of what seemed so natural to these strange cats but were so...Well, strange to her. She had been confused at the sight of all the cats gathering to leave, more confused when she had been explained to that there were more cats and they all gathered every full moon. One group of wild cats seemed weird enough, but to hear that there was four other groups? She still struggled to grasp the terms that the cats used, getting used to their names even if she had ended up taking on theirs - her momma might have named her but...Well, she wasn't ever gonna be her momma's Buttercup anymore. There was no going home, just...Making do here.

Finally she blinked, recalling why she was daring to venture from the nursery as she pushed herself into the clearing - hoping to perhaps get a better idea of what this...Gathering was from the cats who had been there. Haykit quickly slide to a stop however at the sight before her, two sleeping bodies in the middle of the camp as the rest of the cats crowded. Softpaw, the sweet smelling cat who had been of such a comfort when she had been found...And Finchstar, the leader of these group of wild cats. Her ears twitched, quickly gathering the sadness from the cats who had been gone. What...What had happened? Certainly this wasn't normal or why would they go to these Gatherings every fully moon? She dropped into a crouch, watching with wide and confused eyes as one of the cats - uh...Aspenheart. Another nice smelling cat even if he didn't seem as...Nice as Softpaw.

StarClan... StarClan? Haykit's nose winkled at that name, trying to place it. She was living in WindClan...There was four other Clans that she had learned about earlier but she was rather certain that StarClan had not been among them. StarClan... They had...Cursed Softpaw with sleep. She wasn't quite sure what 'cursed' mean but...Softpaw was sleeping. That wasn't bad, was it? Sleeping was good. It make you better. And they...Took Finchstar? But he was there! He was just sleeping as well...Right? There were a few other words that Aspenheart used that Haykit didn't know. 'Died.' 'Dignity.' Also a couple others words that Haykit barely grasped as the tom fell into a heap against the sleeping body of the leader. Haykit titled her head, frowning as she watched the scene. Something was...Wrong. She felt confused, more confused that ever as she tried to make sense of this but felt it was something just...Beyond her. And so she sat there, feeling even more of an outcast than normal.

The clear, cool night would have been beautiful to Olivestone under any other circumstance, but as she followed Raventail, Aspenheart, and Clovertwist home alongside the rest of her Clanmates, she could only hang her head in grief at the lives that had been lost that night. Finchstar had been nothing but kind and loving to his Clan, to her, as ultimately, she wouldn't be a member of the Clan without him.  Morningpaw at her side, she was glad to have her company, and while she had promised to punish the apprentice for speaking out, she knew that she could no longer go through with it. Now that the immediate danger had passed, she knew that Morningpaw was right, and it wasn't right of Olivestone to punish her. Looking over at Morningpaw, she whispered, only for her to hear,
"I'm sorry. You won't be punished for speaking out against the Righteous Few. I only said what I said because I was scared for you." The gray warrior paused for a second. "Y'know, we need more cats like you in the world. Cats with an unwavering sense of justice, one based on kindness and peace and love. I'm sure that Finchstar is proud of you, for standing up for what you believe in. I'm proud of you too."

As the returning group entered the camp, Olivestone filed in with the rest of her Clanmates, and watched, head bowed as Clovertwist laid Finchstar's body in the middle of the camp. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as Aspenheart flung himself over him, and she approached, murmuring,
"Thank you, Finchstar, for bringing Ferretdance and I into the Clan all those moons ago. It was the greatest thing you could have done for us, and for that, you have my eternal thanks."

She then settled down by his side, and began grooming him for the final time, as her tears finally fell, glistening, onto Finchstar's short golden tabby-and-white pelt.

At any other time, Olivestone's words would have filled Morningpaw's heart with joy- but tonight was different. All the pride in the forest wasn't enough to bring back Finchstar, and though she agreed with her mentor, she still couldn't mention the plan slowly hatching within her mind, the meeting she had arranged for two-nights-from-now. It was not the fallen leader before her that hurt Morningpaw the most- but the knowledge that Olivestone's trust was misplaced. She turned her head away to hide her tears, giving a simple nod at her mentor's words, before murmuring, "Thank you,". It wasn't enough, and she knew it, but just as in the Gathering, words had failed the apprentice; so she followed in silence, her head low and her heart heavy. Her anger, replaced by sorrow; her plans, by grief. And for the first time, Morningpaw learned of mourning (and decided, rightly enough, that she didn't like it one bit).

She didn't meet the eyes of the cats gathered back at camp, but as she saw Haykit emerge from the nursery, she gave the tiny cat a gentle smile. Someone would have to explain all this to the kits, and the smile may have been the last one they'd see for a long time, if the mood in the camp was anything to go by. The apprentice wasn't sure if she was allowed to join Aspenheart and Olivestone; she wasn't sure of anything any more. So instead, she simply sat nearby, waiting for the right moment before looking to the stars (where she hoped he would be watching);

"Finchstar... you're brave, and you're strong, and you're wise, and you are- you were- everything to us. You gave your life for this Clan, over and over again, and- I don't care what they said, you were the most loyal cat I've ever known. And I don't know if you can hear me in StarClan, if- if they let you in--" (That wasn't a thought Morningpaw wanted to entertain at all.) "But I'm sorry we couldn't save you. We'll make you proud- just like you made us proud. We'll take up your light, and- and we will never ever look back. Every step we take will be because you died for us, and every time we give thanks, it will be to you. You were more than a leader- you were a hero, and you were a friend to us all. And you will never be forgotten."

Clovertwist could never have guessed that he would ever carry something that seemed so impossibly heavy to carry. Never in his darkest nightmares could he have imagined the significant, crushing weight of being the one to carry a Clan's dead leader into their camp. Finchstar wasn't light, but it wasn't only his physical weight that made Clovertwist's limbs move slowly, as if trudging through water. His leader, mentor, friend, was dead - killed by the ancestors they had always praised, always strove to satisfy. The silver WindClan tom had been silent on the way home, his jaw clenched against the bitter sadness he felt trying to escape his throat. No one had tried to speak; he wasn't sure he could've answered if they'd tried. He was aware of Aspenheart beside him, lumbering eratically as always, and Raventail taking the lead, but if Clovertwist was following it wasn't of his own accord.

When they finally reached camp, Clovertwist laid Finchstar in the sandy clearing and stepped back, feeling overheated and exhausted with legs like worms. He stumbled a short distance away and sat, a feeling of numbness sweeping over him as he recovered his breath. The physical weight had dropped, but it felt like nothing had changed at all. Clovertwist stared at Finchstar's body as the Clan gathered, and when Aspenheart spoke he stayed silent and listened to the emotional announcement of mourning. His eyes peeled away from his mentor for a moment to fall upon his little sister, Softpaw, where she slept undisturbed, unwakeable, yet living unlike Finchstar. How could StarClan be so brutal - so calloused? How could they consider it justice to have subjected the forest to such an act, to force them to witness such injustice?

The medicine cat drooped over Finchstar's limp frame, and Clovertwist tore his gaze away, pale ears flattening. A small whimper escaped the tom, and he gritted his teeth again. He felt tears stinging his gaze but didn't blink or paw at them. They pooled and fell, and he let them. He could hear grieving cats slowly making their approaches, speaking words of grief and gratitude on their fallen leader's behalf. Clovertwist knew he would need to rise and say something eventually, but... but what could he say? What words were there that could express how much Finchstar had meant to him? The loss of Barleytuft was difficult, but this loss was painful in a way Clovertwist couldn't express or understand. Finchstar had taught him everything. Finchstar hadn't been ill, and he hadn't been evil, and he hadn't been wrong. StarClan had... had simply disagreed with him, and they destroyed him for it.

Clovertwist eventually raised his head, a wet stream down each cheek as he looked sorrowfully at Finchstar's body and the cats gathered. His eyes settled on Softpaw once again, and his heart clenched. She... would want to mourn Finchstar, too, and StarClan had even tried to take that right from her. With a body that felt like it wasn't his, Clovertwist stood and made his way over to the unconscious form of his sister. He settled next to her, wrapping his silver frame protectively around hers, and rested his head on her neck, gazing with blank, glassy amber eyes at Finchstar's body a short distance away. Everywhere cats spoke sad, miserable final goodbyes, but Clovertwist feared if he tried to say anything, he would wail like a kittypet lost in the woods. Instead he continued to grit his teeth. It was all he could do to keep breathing.

A slender, white kit practically bounded way from the nursery when the opportunity presented itself. Momma said to keep herself inside, something might have happened outside. If anything occurs in Windclan's camp, then of course its her business! Fogkit eyes adjusted to the light stopping momentarily to adjust to the outside environment. Having been raised in Windclan had proven to make cats close to each other both in the sense pelts touched, most cats seemed nice. The kit's sporadic movements led to her eventual arrival towards the huge gathering.

Her clouded eyes scanned the crowd wondering if one of the older cats brought more food to eat. She was sad she couldn't have milk anymore but to taste rabbit and vole was icky the first time she devoured it hungrily. To think of food at a time like this she inched closed her til raised once catching the sight of one of the kits nearby. A bitter thought appeared, how had the other kit been allowed to go out? Hadn't she been a good kit? There were practically no instances of play fighting for some time, no more adventurous outings. What gives?

Fogkit practically plopped herself down on the gloomy ground pelt frazzled from head to toe. It was enough that the cost would be a boring lecture for sneaking out, this little trip would be worth the punishment. She stared at the limp body of an old cat which many of her clanmates were looming over. There eyes looked sad and some serious leaving the kit to stare a tad longer than necessary. Maybe it was days ago when that Softpaw character had been sleeping? When she'd sleep she came back with energy...wouldn't Softpaw and this sleepy head wake up better than ever? At such a thought she turned to Haykit and then back to the far older cats who seemed sad. Will the bad sleep come for me too?

At some point, though he didn’t remember doing so, Raventail must have taken the lead. The moor’s cold, quiet hills sprawled before him; at his back, he heard the shifting of warriors and apprentices, Aspenheart’s unsteady gait, Clovertwist’s heavy steps. His legs moved on their own. Instinct and habit demanded he run, find somewhere private, collect himself until he could face Finchstar without flinching. After all, WindClan had Aspenheart, and they’d have Softpaw when (if) she woke. They had cats to lead them. But he knew better. He couldn’t give himself a chance to leave, nor his Clan a chance to think he’d abandoned them yet again.

There was so much he could have done. He could have spoken up louder, sooner. He could have placed himself between Finchstar and the ancient leaders. If Galestar had been a badger, he would have thrown himself at her without hesitation, yet when she’d threatened Finchstar to his face, Raventail had done nothing. Even now, he stood by silently as Aspenheart addressed their Clanmates. Worse, he was grateful for it.

…Their Clanmates. They’d reached WindClan’s camp. When had they gone through the tunnel? Raventail blinked. A pair of kits had emerged from the nursery to investigate the commotion. Haykit, who'd only recently learned about StarClan, and Fogkit, raised to trust in her ancestors. How could he possibly explain this to them? He dropped his gaze.

Finchstar lay on the ground, Aspenheart draped over him, Olivestone beside him. Tentative as a rabbit, Raventail approached. He couldn’t help but look over the ginger-and-white pelt as if he might find something that Aspenheart had missed. Blood could be washed off, wounds could be healed. But StarClan left no marks. Nothing save for the scent of death and the eerie stillness that had overtaken Finchstar suggested he was anything other than asleep. Something like anger sparked deep in Raventail’s stomach, but a fresh wave of grief smothered it before it could burn. ”I’m sorry,” he mumbled, pressing his nose to his friend’s shoulder. ”I should’ve done more, I’m sorry.” He wanted to say more, but the tears he'd hoped to leave at Fourtrees had returned, and WindClan would need space to mourn. If he had seasons to talk, it wouldn't be enough. Morningpaw sat slightly apart from the others with her nose pointed skyward; Raventail didn’t dare look up as he joined her, wrapping his tail around his paws.

Faintly aware of Raventail sitting beside her, Morningpaw took a deep breath, her eyes still misty with tears; the black-furred cat might have been suffering more than anyone here, she thought, not just with the death of the Clan's leader, but the death of a friend, a confidant, a father. Nothing she could say would fix things- it was like putting cobwebs on the ragged stump of a missing limb. Though the bleeding might stop, it wouldn't be enough, and it wouldn't bring back what was lost. And to have to put aside his grief and sorrow and mourning to step up and lead the Clan, to take up the light and fill the great pawprints Finchstar had left in his wake? To blame himself when the fault lay with the stars above, to think I should've done more (a thought the apprentice shared regarding herself)? She turned to the deputy, mewing a quiet, "You know,"

"He only did what he did, because... he knew that, as much as we loved him- we could survive without him. Finchstar cared for us, for all of us, and he wouldn't have left without knowing WindClan was in safe paws." A gentle smile. "And that's you. It was his choice, in the end, and he chose to die knowing that WindClan can live - because you're here to make sure of it." Morningpaw turned her head to the starry sky, tears wetting her grey fur. It felt weird for her, a mere apprentice, to say this to a cat so respected and so loved, but- some things needed to be said. "There's a new star shining down on us now, and- he trusted you, and I think he'd be proud of you. I know there's not a cat here who isn't."

Goldengale walked next to her brother numbly, offering what support she could. As they reached WindClan's camp, she looked to Grousefrost helplessly before pressing her nose to Finchstar's now cold, lifeless pelt and flinched at the sensation. She felt more than she saw Clovertwist get up after a while, and after a moment of hesitation followed. Settling on Softpaw's other side, she wrapped around both of her siblings and tucked her head against Clovertwist's cheek. What would WindClan do now?

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While Raventail had taken up the lead, Dappleshine walked at the back of the group. She longed to be by his side, but... She had lingered to ensure that there were no stragglers, no.... missings. She didn't quite know when she had started crying, but as she entered the camp at the end of the group Finchstar was already settled in the center of it. Feeling like she was aimlessly floating in the waters of the river, she found a spot and gently nuzzled the leader's cold pelt, squeezing her eyes shut as she whispered. "Thank you for giving me a chance, Finchstar." She remained crouched there for a moment longer before she rose to leave the spot for another, her eyes searching for Raventail. She finally spotted him near the young apprentice that had spoken out so passionately, and she brushed her tail over the she-cat's shoulders as she sat on Raventail's other side, catching the end of what she said. "She's right, you know. A very wise apprentice, in her youth." She gave a small, sad smile to Morningpaw before looking back to Raventail. She wrapped her tail around him where he sat, pressing against his shoulder gently. "Finchstar chose you, he always had, and he always would. I stand by your side, along with all of WindClan."

Briarthorn walked into camp with his head hung low. Finchstar... He was gone. Briarthorn had been alive when the last WindClan leader, Brindlestar, had died. It had been sad, but this felt different. He felt a strong connection to Finchstar, having accompanied him on his journey to receive his nine lives. And StarClan had just taken them away... Briarthorn couldn't tare his eyes away from his deceased leaders body, even as Aspenheart addressed the clans. One by one, cats began to thank Finchstar for all he'd done for them. Briarthorn rememberd how kind the young leader had been to him when he told him that he wished to leave the path of a medicin cat to become a warrior. "Thank you, Finchstar," he began, his voice barley audible. "for helping me find my way."

Foxspirit was still trying to wrap her head around what had just happend. Finchstar is dead, Softpaw is asleep. No one is safe anymore. Everything had happens so fast! Would StarClan strike again? No, it wasn't a question of if, it was a question of when. Surely, they were not finished. But the words of Ashstar came to her mind, the first leader she had known. No matter what trials we must endure, WindClan will last forever. Filled with a small amount of hope from this memary, Foxspirit looked at Raventail. "You will be an amazing leader, Raventail. I don't doubt it for a moment." She hoped her words would help the tom through this hard time in his life.

Ploverpuddle didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say, didn't know what to feel. He had followed the rest of his clan back to the camp. His yellow eyes remained forward on the spot in front of him, and his paws mindlessly keeping time with others as he remained lost in his own head. He.. He didn't think it would ever be like this. He hated.. Absolutely hated what had been done to Finchstar but there was a small feeling in his gut claiming that the former leader deserved it. He had called Starclan's wrath upon Windclan numerous times..

But at the same time Ploverpuddle could say he was a reason Windclan wasn't in Starclan's favor.. That his mixed heritage was just another issue.. Just another cause for Finchstar to protest against their ancestors.

As soon as he stepped into the camp, he settled at the edge of the clearing. Eyes locked towards the center, watching cats come and go to mourn their lost leader. He didn't deserve to morn. He hadn't been able to do anything besides contribute to the whole issue with Starclan. His mixed blood.. Coming back to the clans.. It was bad enough that Finchstar's death was just replaying in his mind, now his own guilt was eating at him.. Who would Starclan want to claim next?

Aspenheart lifted his head to the mournful chorus of WindClan's honorable warriors as they cried out for their fallen clanmate. Finchstar was never a leader in the traditional sense. Positively nothing about him was ever conservative or traditional, and the things that were had gone through a rigorous period of reflection in his mind until he deemed them applicable to the current day. He was a cat of action, but he was also an avid listener. As a leader, he preferred to watch, to moderate, and to guide. He relied on the minds around him to support his decisions. When stubborn, it was dutifully so. Aspenheart felt a terrible fool for doubting his love for WindClan... even when it didn't work out. Even when it hurt them deeper. He had done the same, and still the clan stayed beside him. He felt like a relic of a past era. The ghosts of Elmskip, Barleytuft, Mistystripe, and now Finchstar, swarmed around him. Every one of those cats was a hero in their own way.

They wouldn't have stood for this. They wouldn't have sat idly by. They didn't.

"I renounce StarClan," Aspenheart half-whispered and half-purred. The words dripped off of his tongue like golden honey, and with them the weight of the past was lifted. If these "Righteous Few" were now the voices of StarClan, then he would not speak for them. His brow furrowed, and his claws tucked deeply into the ground below him. If he was shaking, it was not in seizure, but in passion. "I answer to the spirit of WindClan, living and dead. I should have supported you all sooner. I didn't. I'm sorry. No matter what we choose to do, I would gladly give my life for it." He exhaled through his nose, a miniature joke worming its way into his head. He smiled in spite of himself. "Galestar's awful short for a moor-runner, anyway. I think she's bluffing."

Blue-green eyes flickered across the crowd, gauging the reaction. He wasn't sure if it was a well-timed joke. Some clearly took it better than others, based on the mixed expressions in the fallout. He didn't really care, in the end, if they giggled along with him. There was only one cat he'd like to play his verbal games with. Large, wobbly tears pickled the corners of his eyes as he rested his head on Finchstar's scruff again. "Eh. Tough crowd. I bet you're laughing, wherever you are. My friend."

Zinnia had trailed behind her clanmates in silence, awe-struck in the worst sort of way by the appearance of StarClan, by the way they struck down her leader and friend. She watched as they carried him back, and now as they mourned his still form. How could one so strong, so convicted, stand so still in the face of death? She couldn't remain silent any longer, now - he was a friend, he was the cat who had taken her into the moor, to whom she had pledged her allegiance.

"Finchstar stood by the things he believed in, to the last; and in that I see more honor than in any cat who dared to strike him down for speaking truth. To have known him at all is an honor in itself, and to have lost him a tragedy... But we have not lost the love in which he placed his faith. It lives on in all of us, that love which endures eternally."

He had lost his life, that was true; but he had lost his life with his honor intact, and that was something not anyone could boast. He had not bowed, he had stood his ground, and she had no intention of disrespecting his memory now.

Clovertwist was grateful, through the numbness, when he realized that Goldengale had joined him and their sleeping younger sister, her body settling protectively on Softpaw's other side and her face pressing mournfully into his. Nearby, Clovertwist had missed whatever words Raventail had spoken, but his attention was drawn to Morningpaw as she defended Finchstar's choice to leave WindClan in his care. His glassy eyes watched the scene, tears dripping intermittently onto Softpaw's neck, and if he could have found the strength to voice his agreement he would have done so. Raventail had left WindClan once, but he had learned his true home and what lengths he would go to for it then, and he would be a knowledgeable, careful, and thoughtful leader for them... but stars, it still hurt to think of anyone but Finchstar in the role. It still hurt to think of Finchstar himself. It all hurt.

Aspenheart moved from where he had slumped over Finchstar's body, and Clovertwist's dull eyes followed by habit. He saw the medicine cat trembling. If Clovertwist had been more together himself he might've noticed that Aspenheart had been mumbling to himself, and he might've wondered or worried about a seizing fit, but Aspenheart seemed fine. Perhaps even... more than fine, given the circumstances. Clovertwist's ears angled slightly to take in the words the medicine cat grumbled, and he felt his heart sieze with grief - and admiration - at the confession Aspenheart made. You couldn't have known... You were afraid. We all were. Now watching Finchstar's motionless body be mourned over, the fear was overwhelmed with grief, and beneath that bubbled an untameable fury at the inustice that would lead to defiance. For now, though, he heard Aspenheart's ill-timed joke, and despite his misery Clovertwist found himself snorting a short, dark laugh, his eyes flashing wryly as they met Aspenheart's.

Mad old bat, Clovertwist thought, unable to break from his grief completely but also not quite so listless in it. Aspenheart was right, after all; Finchstar would've thought it was amusing. He might've jibed at the starry she-cat as well. The loner she-cat Zinnia, who had helped turn StarClan's wrathful eye onto WindClan, spoke up, and Clovertwist felt only gratitude and respect for the kind words of honor she spoke. He nodded faintly from where he lay with his sisters. Love always lives on.