highs, lows, and balance [closed]

Things had been fine. They'd been fine. So why hadn't the feelings of loss and disconnect dissipated yet for Clovertwist? He wasn't walking the darkness alone, as his father had often referred to it. He was being active with his Clan and duties and reaching out to his kin and friends. It seemed to him, though, that he wasn't really accomplishing much. More than once he alone returned from patrols empty-pawed or with meager offerings for the fresh-kill pile. He hadn't been injured at all in the final battle with the Righteous Few, yet he felt like he bore some invisible wound that he couldn't mend as a result of the corruption and mistrust they'd woven during their reign. Morningdove was alive by a whisker because of the cowardly silence of warriors like himself. His... his great nice was nearly killed because she'd been more willing to risk her life for justice than he, a more senior warrior, had been. He couldn't blame himself: he knew he couldn't, not with how impossible it had been to get Morningdove to act any certain way.

It was strange to be in a younger cat's shadow, though, and stranger to envy her bravery when her position of rebellion had now placed her for the indefinite future in the medicine den. I know what that's like, he thought sadly. He had been like Morningdove once, on Aspenheart's behalf... what had changed? The past moons had made it clear to Clovertwist: StarClan had changed. The Clans themselves had changed. The Righteous Few were few, and StarClan was many, but once the few were StarClan. The fear that cats like the Righteous Few might one day become the many hadn't subsided since the battle, and it hadn't subsided since the most recent Gathering. Clovertwist's concerns that one day he would be expected to follow a corrupted code had begun to cloud even the smallest aspects of his life in a Clan. He'd never thought he would be afraid to be a warrior, willing to die for his Clan, and he wasn't, but doing what was right and doing what the code said and doing what his leader said and doing what StarClan commanded could all be different and even mutually exclusive things.

He wasn't sure he could continue like that.

Once, Ravenstar had had his own faith and loyalty tested. As deputy of WindClan, he had once fled, leaving Clovertwist's father Barleytuft as an impromptu deputy in his absence. Clovertwist was only a freshly named warrior, but he remembered meeting Dappleshine on the border for the first time and learning about his abandonment. Clovertwist had been shocked and disappointed a long time ago, but now he wondered if he might understand what his now-leader had felt. He had begun to think that maybe Ravenstar's wisdom would be of use to him. The dark-furred tom had always been a dear friend to Clovertwist's father; though their relationship had been a little strained near the end of Barleytuft's life, Clovertwist had only ever felt a kinship between the two from his father. He didn't share in his late father's relationship with the tom, but they were friendly, at least. Perhaps, then, Ravenstar would be amenable to sharing some of that wisdom.

The dawn patrol had just departed a short while ago, and Clovertwist sat in the cool morning sunlight in the sandy parts of camp hoping to see his leader's familiar form begin to move around. If he wasn't on the first patrol, hopefully that would mean that the warrior could steal a little private conversation time from him. The silver tabby's kinked tail flicked back and forth impatiently, and at last he knew that Ravenstar was available - for speaking to, at least. Clovertwist rose to his paws and made a bee-line to swiftly approach, looking a bit more sheepish than his typical self. "H-Hey, um, Ravenstar?" he asked, "I know it's a little early, I just... wondered if you were free for a hunt? With me?" His ears twitched back ever so slightly. Don't be such a kit, he scolded himself, taking a deep breath and straightening up slightly. Just 'cause he's a star doesn't mean he's not the cat you knew.

Since the final battle, more than a moon of peace had gone by. Life in WindClan was far from perfect—good and bad went paw in paw, as they always had—but the parts of StarClan Ravenstar didn’t care for had mercifully slipped back into silence. WindClan could heal, and he could turn his attention to what he cared about most. The first, of course, was Dappleshine. He hadn’t talked to her about it yet and hadn’t told Aspenheart or Softpaw, but sometimes, while dozing comfortably at her side, he heard her breaths go shallow in a way that made his heart clench. Maybe it was only grief (only grief, as if that was somehow better). Still, he found himself wide awake, watching her chest rise and fall long after her breathing steadied. So far, it had evened out every time. It scared him anyway. Less worrying but just as important were Fogpaw’s training and the early-morning hunt he’d sworn to take her on. Then came his quiet vigils beside Morningdove and mingling with his Clan, feeling out how they saw him now that so much had changed; then came his peacetime responsibilities—and then, last and least of all, a project of his own.

After he’d come back from the Moonstone, Ravenstar had decided what he (and probably, he thought with a tinge of embarrassment, most of the cats who knew him) had been quietly certain of for moons: despite his rank, the leader’s den would never truly be his. Staying under cover too long made his legs itch. It reminded him of the barn or, more recently, the nights he’d spent half-dead in the elders’ den—of that old self-doubt, failure, and loneliness. He didn’t want to carry those with him anymore. He didn’t need to. Someday, if she chose to accept it once she became leader, the den would pass into Olivestone’s paws; until then, it would sit empty.

…But not abandoned. Though a trick of the light could still make his heart turn over on itself, something about seeing Finchstar well, standing in line beside Brookclover and so many others Ravenstar loved, had helped banish the ghosts from the den’s corners. He could step inside without flinching. He could breathe freely. It had started to feel more like a den than a monument, and he finally wanted to treat it like one. So he’d done exactly that, gathering up the cobwebs and dust he’d been neglecting and pulling the mess into the light. Now, looking over the half-cleaned space, he could almost be proud of the morning's work.

At last, he stepped out of the den and breathed in, savoring the fresh, cool air as it rushed down his throat. Dust hung from his whiskers. He tried to brush it off with a clean paw. Thankfully, he’d removed most of it by the time a motion ahead caught his eye, and he looked up to see a silver tom marching toward him. Ravenstar’s smile faltered for a heartbeat. He missed his old name most at times like this, when his Clanmates looked at him and he couldn’t be sure whether they saw a leader or a warrior. It was an odd feeling to get from Clovertwist, of all cats. They weren’t quite friends—Ravenstar knew him mostly through Barleytuft and Goldengale’s stories—but Ravenstar was comfortable around him, especially these days. The shorter tom shook himself. He was thinking too much, and a hunt sounded like the perfect cure. ”Don’t worry,” he said lightly, ”I got up before the sun did, and I’m free as a hare. It’ll be great to stretch our legs before it warms up too much, right?" A hint of laughter crept into his voice. "I know these cobwebs aren't going anywhere.”

The look on Ravenstar's face was surprised but welcoming; he smiled, and though Clovertwist suspected he saw some of the same uncertainty mirrored there the warrior smiled back a little less nervously. The WindClan leader shook his pelt and replied agreeably to the hunt. Clovertwist's smile broadened at Ravenstar's easygoing comments and jokes, and he felt himself relax a little - at least, until he remembered what he was hoping to accomplish with this little outing. Still, Clovertwist chuckled slightly, nodding, and he looked back over Ravenstar's shoulder towards the den he'd exited. It had been Finchstar's den, once upon a time. It couldn't be his den if he wasn't here anymore, but that was all it had ever been to Clovertwist. It would be hard to think of it as anyone else's. Judging by how long it had taken Ravenstar to begin the process of tidying it up, the warrior suspected his new leader felt a similar way.

Clovertwist nodded again and meowed, "Alright - cool, I'm glad. Let's go, then. Bye, cobwebs." He chuckled a little and spun around, beginning to move towards the exit of camp and looking aside to see that Ravenstar was with him. Almost as soon as they exited the tunnel and stepped out onto the open moor another wave of uneasiness fluttered in Clovertwist's stomach. He knew the sort of cat that his new leader was - he wouldn't get mad at a warrior for doubting themselves and questioning things, but what if Clovertwist was wrong? What if Ravenstar was angry at him for questioning his loyalty. Or, worse, what if Ravenstar was hurt or personally offended by Clovertwist's crisis of faith? It wasn't personal; Ravenstar would undoubtedly be a good leader for WindClan, a little less emotional than Finchstar but no less passionate. But what about whoever came after Ravenstar? Not even Olivestone - it wasn't anyone specific, it was just... everything.

The pair exited the camp and made their way onto the moors. Clovertwist wondered if he ought to let Ravenstar lead, given that he was not only the elder of the two of them but also his leader. But... But Clovertwist had invited him out, and Raventail had always been easygoing... Ravenstar was still Raventail even if his name and role had changed. So Clovertwist just kept a slow, easygoing pace at his dark-furred leader's side instead, a balance. If only finding balance with his fears and hopes was that easy. Maybe after his talk today it would be. The sky was overcast, but still the early morning sun peered down at them through the gaps. It was cool and quickly growing warmer. Clovertwist saw the Lone Stump looming on the horizon and realized with mild amusement that he had subconsciously been leading his Clanmate towards the typical "deep emotional discussion" place for WindClan. If Ravenstar didn't realize Clovertwist wanted to do more than hunt, it'd be obvious soon.

Clovertwist seemed to relax for a moment—which was, of course, the whole point—and Ravenstar, glad to see his not-entirely-new position wasn’t insurmountable, felt his own nerves settle in turn. One could only stand to tiptoe around one’s Clanmates for so long. With a nod, Clovertwist turned to lead them out. Ravenstar’s gaze lingered on the den. I’ll try again tomorrow. Provided there wasn’t some StarClan-sent catastrophe before then, he knew he would; for reasons he couldn’t put a paw on, it felt like a promise worth keeping. ”Bye, cobwebs,” he echoed, waving his tail toward the den as if seeing off an old friend. Then he cleared his throat and hurried after his hunting companion. He caught up well before the tunnel, and the two toms ducked into it mere pawsteps apart, emerging under a blanket of clouds patched throughout with pale sunlight. Somehow, it seemed brighter beyond the camp’s walls.

By unspoken agreement, they set off side by side. A new, softer smile pushed at the corners of Ravenstar’s mouth. He couldn’t subdue it; he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. Instead, he focused on watching the hills (half for safety’s sake, half for the simple joy of looking at them) and matching Clovertwist’s pace, grateful the taller tom had opted for something slow. It gave him time to notice things. Things like, say, the fact that Clovertwist was thinking so hard the sound of his brain working could’ve drowned out the Gorge. That it probably had nothing to do with him had no bearing on Ravenstar’s concern; his Clanmates’ problems had mattered to him since before he’d had a title to justify it. Still… He glanced aside at the silver tom. Clovertwist had asked for a hunt, and this, walking beside him like a denmate, if not a friend, was too comfortable to risk.

At last, their destination appeared over the hills. Like most of WindClan’s aboveground territory, the Lone Stump made for decent hunting grounds as long as you could get your claws into your prey before it dove into some burrow or another—and here, there were plenty of them. The sight of so many holes in the ground all clustered together put Ravenstar on edge; he preferred to chase rabbits elsewhere. Most of WindClan didn’t share his reservations. To them, the Lone Stump offered plenty of chances for apprentices to learn the value of sneaking as well as sprinting, and its distance from camp meant it worked well as—

As a place to talk. The hunch came back in full force. As they closed in on the stump, Ravenstar stopped a fox-length from the first group of burrows. He lifted his head, jaws parting to taste the fresh and fading rabbit scents around him, and weighed his options. The rolling call of a grouse sounded from the grasses beyond. ”So,” he said after a moment’s thought, ”where should we start?” That seemed good enough; an opening if Clovertwist wanted one, a genuine question if he didn't.

When they were about a fox-length from the burrows lined up around the foot of the Lone Stump, Ravenstar slowed to a halt, and Clovertwist did the same, his paws feeling heavier with each step. It's going to be okay, Clovertwist, he tried to reassure himself silently as his heartbeat pounded like it was in his stomach. Nothing you can say would make Ravenstar treat you badly. The warrior took in the scents around them as well, interweaving trails of old and new, rabbit and hare, though he questioned if he'd be able to make much use of any trail given how his hunting patrols had been going as of late. When the pair of monochrome toms had been silent for a moment, a grouse squawked within their stalking range if they so chose. The WindClan leader spoke up, asking gently, "So, where should we start?" Clovertwist's stomach knotted immediately, and in just those words he was certain that Ravenstar expected more than just a hunt had been planned for this outing.

Clovertwist didn't want to be a complete liar, though. He replied after an instant of hesitation, "Uh, I think that grouse was calling our names." His crimped tabby tail twitched as he set off in an arc towards where he'd heard the grouse's call, his ears perked and listening attentively for sounds of movement from the bird. He stalked for a bit and then caught a glimpse of the mottled feathers in the rippling grasses. Clovertwist weighed his options for a moment; he could likely outrun it himself on a good day, but it would be safer to try to chase it towards Ravenstar given how his recent hunting had been. The warrior signaled to his leader with his tail - or he would have, had it not flipped an unintended direction and swatted a clump of wheat. The grouse immediately let out an alarm call and took off. Clovertwist cried, "Wait, no!" Like an apprentice disappointed about his first prey flying off, the silver tabby tom threw himself from his hiding place with a hiss of effort and up into the air with surprising height - a product of his SkyClan ancestry, perhaps.

His claws swooshed through empty air that the grouse had easily cleared, and Clovertwist came down heavily and spat, "Ugh, stupid tail!" He twisted his head to glare daggers at it, then glowered after the bird as it disappeared. His expression began to melt to disappointment, and then almost bored resignation. Clovertwist looked at Ravenstar. "Stars... I dunno, Ravenstar. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore." Vague. Cryptic. That'll work for sure, he thought tartly. He took a breath, shook his head, and went for it. "When... you left for the barn, Dappleshine told us you'd left because you blamed yourself for things that were happening to WindClan. You came back and you said you'd made a mistake - that you got your thoughts in order or whatever, and it took you a while to figure it out."

He paused, then he asked softly, "Can, uh... Can I ask what you figured out? You took the oath when you became a warrior, and... I just... I wanna know what you learned when you were away that made you come back. Did it really make it easier for you?" He scuffed a paw. He hoped Ravenstar wouldn't think Clovertwist was here to doubt him - it was entirely the opposite, and he'd be quick to assure his leader of such if he feared his intention was misunderstood.

Another thorn of concern burrowed into his stomach. Normally Ravenstar might have set off to track his own prey, but half the point of hunting with Clanmates was hunting with Clanmates, so he nodded, lowered himself into the grass until only the top half of his face was visible, and settled down as Clovertwist tracked the grouse. Between blinks, things went wrong. A misaimed flick of a tail alerted their would-be prey; with a few easy flaps of its reddish-brown wings, it soared out of Clovertwist’s range. Ravenstar watched it until it was little more than a speck over the grasses. Words of encouragement—”that was a good jump,” maybe—teetered on the end of his tongue, but one glance at Clovertwist’s sour expression made him reconsider.

In the brief silence that followed, he wondered if he should’ve gone for the complement after all.

At last, Clovertwist spoke. ”When…you left for the barn,” he began, and Ravenstar stiffened. He’d never learned to stop himself from going on the defensive whenever his flight from WindClan came up; the Righteous Few had dragged that old pain right back to the surface. But Clovertwist wasn’t asking just to take a swipe at him. He wasn’t that kind of cat. Though he’d poked holes in Ravenstar’s chest all the same (as anyone but Dappleshine—and even she, some days—would have), he hadn’t started with why’d you think you could leave us or so what made you stay this time. Ravenstar shut his eyes. ”It wasn’t something I learned, exactly,” he said, sitting down. ”It’s more like… When you’re born and raised in WindClan, you learn one way to do things, you know? For the first time in my life, I got to see how cats lived outside of that. There weren’t any borders or codes to follow.” He swallowed. ”I wasn’t responsible for anyone’s life but mine.

”It was different. In a lot of ways, it was good. We could hunt and run wherever we wanted, or we could spend the whole day just talking if we felt like it. There were so many mice, I don’t know if they even realized we’d moved in.” Sweeping his tail around himself, the dark tom sighed. ”Mostly, it gave me time to think. Who I was, what I wanted, things like that. And when I thought, I realized it wasn’t what I wanted. Everyone—well.” He glanced pointedly toward the Gorge, far from view. Though she hadn't been his only reason, there was no denying the part Dappleshine had played in leading him home. ”Almost everyone I loved was here. They meant more to me than the beasts or the code or…how scared I was of messing up again, and—I had to try to make it right. For them, and for me. That’s why I came back.” Most of those cats were gone, yet he was here.

Flattening some grass under a dusty paw, he went on. ”It didn’t make everything easier. You saw what Grousefrost thinks of me; he’s not the only one. I can’t say I haven’t doubted myself since then, either. But… After what happened to your sister and Puddlepaw, I… Every step I took felt wrong.” Ravenstar’s gaze had slipped to Clovertwist’s silvery-white paws. He raised his muzzle. ”Leaving gave me something to be sure of again. I picked WindClan. I will pick WindClan, no matter what that means. I only know that because I got to make that choice.”

He went quiet then, letting how long he’d spoken—and about what—wash over him. A cool breeze rippled through the neater parts of his fur, leaving them disheveled to match the rest. ”Sorry,” he said at length, ”you, uh, probably weren’t looking for a speech. You’re the first cat who’s asked about that.” Prying the last strands of tension away from where they had settled around his ribs, he blinked up at the silver tom again. ”…I’m guessing you’re not just curious.” ”I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.” Maybe that’d been frustration talking, but it plucked at something buried deep inside Ravenstar, and so help him, he wanted to get to the root of it.

The silver-coated warrior knew that bringing up Ravenstar's past had set the tom on edge, for the leader's movements became rigid, his pelt suspiciously still. Clovertwist had to ask, though; he really didn't have any other option. His leader, his friend, was likely the only cat he knew who would be able to understand and explain what the lost warrior was feeling. Ravenstar was clearly discomforted by the unburial of those long-past events. Thankfully, though, he didn't shut down his warrior's questions. Whether because he knew Clovertwist needed the answer or because he was finally ready to say more, Ravenstar closed his eyes, sat, and resigned himself to answering the question. Subconsciously following his companion's cue, Clovertwist pulled his kinked tail in as he sat down too, keeping his paws tight against him as a subtle comfort in his uncertainty. He listened and watched his leader's closed-eyed face while he explained what had gone through his mind during his brief sabbatical from WindClan.

Clovertwist found himself searching Ravenstar's face as his leader described the feelings he'd felt - ones that Clovertwist himself was feeling now. He remembered learning from Mink what life in the barn was like; for a short time following his father's death, the WindClan warrior had wondered what it might be like to live there "not responsible for anyone's life" but his own. The way Ravenstar phrased it, life outside the Clan and at the barn was exactly like it seemed like it would be: prey was plentiful and easy to catch, and chores were only as necessary as one made them. Clovertwist could sit and shoot the breeze with any stranger for however long he desired and, as Ravenstar helpfully pointed out, he would have all the time in the world to think. The dark-furred leader did think, long and hard, and ultimately the thoughts he'd gathered had lead him back to WindClan - his home. Clovertwist followed Ravenstar's gaze out towards the great crack in the earth that they called the Gorge. He was sure he was referring to Dappleshine; the silver tabby tom had learned all about how the former RiverClan warrior was the last cat Ravenstar saw before he fled to the barn.

He tucked his chin down slightly in thought when Ravenstar expressed he couldn't find what he was looking for elsewhere because it all existed in WindClan. Everything he feared messing up was everything he realized he needed to stay and try his best for. It almost stung for Clovertwist to hear the words in that way. The tabby tom knew that he had his only living littermate and his young brother and sister - they were almost grown, almost with their full names at last - to care for. His mother was gone, as was his father, but his uncle Aspenheart was alive, and his kin and friends in WindClan were still alive and well and still needed their Clanmates. Everything that Clovertwist cared about was here - just like Ravenstar had discovered. Surely they should mean more than the code or StarClan. The leader had returned because he knew he couldn't make anything right from a distance, though at times it might have felt like he wasn't making things much better having returned, either.

Clovertwist looked at Ravenstar again while the dark tom explained he still doubted himself sometimes. The mention of Goldengale made his expression harden a little. She'd been different since the beast-cats - it wasn't just because of Grousefrost, either, he was certain. Something had happened to her when she was nearly lost in the tunnel collapse. Ravenstar carried on that, truly, leaving was what had allowed him to discover where his loyalties truly lie and taught him that his desire to make things right was greater than his fear of making them worse. A silence stretched between them, and Clovertwist's gaze glossed over as he stared out over the horizon, thoughts filling his head. Ravenstar apologized briefly for rambling, and Clovertwist snapped his head back to him, replying with mild surprise, "No - no, thank you, I... I really appreciate you telling me." There was another moment of silence, and then Ravenstar's gaze slid up to meet Clovertwist's. The warrior froze under his leader's gently probing yellow gaze, especially when he remarked on why the tom had brought it up.

The silver warrior stared into his leader's gaze for several moments, taking in a breath and opening his mouth as if to speak, but he was silent. "I... well..." Clovertwist blinked, then sighed and looked away. He wished he'd thought a little harder about what he'd say to Ravenstar. It was just so hard to gather his thoughts about any of this. "Yeah. I don't know. I hoped you would... understand, I guess. Everything got so hard when Goldengale got hurt, and dad died, and then... then with everything that the Righteous Few did, it's like I don't even know what it really means to be a Clan cat now. It felt so simple when I tried to keep the dog from hurting Aspenheart, but it wasn't simple when I should've kept the stars from hurting our Clanmates. They killed Finchstar, and they hurt Morningdove, and neither of them deserved it. I-I... I was his apprentice. My father loved him. I should've been the first to do something when they threatened him, but I sat there and watched him go to sleep."

Clovertwist's pale amber eyes flashed, and he looked ruefully at Ravenstar. "I know it's not my fault - not really. Galestar probably would've just made me sleep like she did with Softpaw. I just... I don't know what the warrior code means anymore. I don't know what StarClan means. I thought I knew. If The Righteous Few had succeeded in blocking the real StarClan forever, or if the Clans had decided to follow them, that... that would've been it. Their warrior code would be the warrior code. Everything I learned would be different. My siblings and I are half-SkyClan, even if we've never set a paw in the forest. I never doubted my place because of my heritage until all... all this." He waved a paw wildly and vaguely around, his kinked tail lashing with frustration while sorrow glittered in his eyes. "But now anyone could. My mom got sick. I hated having to sit and watch that. I'm... I'm afraid of having to sit and watch worse. And I know it wouldn't happen with you... and it wouldn't happen with Olivestone...

... but we didn't really think you'd be leader so soon, right?" Clovertwist pointed out, his voice almost hauntingly soft. "I'm so afraid that... that even if it's over, it's not over - not really. I just don't know how to deal with it, and I... I wondered if... the barn might help me, like it helped you," he finished at last, his ears flattening slightly as he ducked his head and looked nervously at Ravenstar.