Smokepaw's Moonstone Journey

Blistering fragments of his dreams dissipated as a mellifluous voice roused him. Really, it had been more of a nightmare. They all seemed to be nightmares, lately. The haunting visions that etched his mind would never allow for him to be grateful for slumber, even as a relief from the scorching Greenleaf temperatures.

Oh stars, he could barely function.
Smokepaw needed sleep.

...Was he supposed to be looking forward to meeting a StarClan cat?

"I... yeah, y-yeah, I... think I'm ready, now.

...Was he?

Was he ready to meet another celestial cat, all this soon, after the inferno that had smouldered so recently?
Was he ready to personally confront one who lived in that taunting expanse of stars, that he had spent so long despising with each breath in his soul?
Was he ready to undergo these age-old proceedings; a challenge of wisdom, a test sparked anew, for him and his identity?

Was he ready?
Was he really ready?

...

He didn't know.

But...
it was easier to lie to himself
that he was.

"I'm ready."

"Aha... I can see why. Or, well... taste, why." His rasping voice, parched with binding fatigue, was tinged with a croaky yet good-natured chuckle. Mothglow had that aura that emitted a fuzzy serenity... just like her name would suggest. It prompted newfound repose in him. He found the trek, although physically wearing, to have sparked contentedness. Smokepaw enjoyed his sister's company. This time together had drowned his perturbation, somewhat.

When a century passed, when they arrived at last, his heartbeat had amplified into a thrumming drum. A tradition as long-lived, a ritual as customary, which so many paws had, too, treaded through... surely, wasn't supposed to be as nerve-wracking as this. Smokepaw hadn't been mentally present when their 'ancestors' had descended upon them that Gathering; any evocations of those events were dismantled, suffocated by the traumatic retribution he had experienced.

Dreams obscure any light when they morph into your nightmare.

And it applied to present reality, too. As they navigated blindly through the tunnel (even for him and his condition, the utter loss of sight made him feel more vulnerable than ever), Smokepaw, constantly tumbling over himself and the jagged terrain, began to doubt that this cave really was so spectacular after all.

But,
as they emerged into the cavern's ancient radiance,
Smokepaw found himself lost in its mystical illumination.

It was blinding, glaring, icily flashing. He staggered backwards in faltering awe and strain, eyes snapped wide as his absorbed the wondrous crystal. They were almost as piercing, enchanting, as Ebon– Smokepaw vigorously shook his head, bewildered at what his contemplations had drifted to. Why was he thinking about... no... nevermind. The Moonstone's brilliance was distorting his thoughts. It was reminiscent to those lights that Smokepaw had recalled from that battle – a blinking luminensce; the only trace that he could remember of what could only have been those star-freckled cats. It was all a haze. Ghostly, almost. He had had only others' stories to rely on...

But Smokepaw wanted to confront a StarClan cat – not a villanous tyrant, possessing superficial beliefs and hollow priorities, posing emptily as a speaker of the stars... but rather, a warrior, apprentice, that had once lived, laughed, tried; who stood for their own values, morals, spoke for what was right; who had learned, taught, and would teach; who had legends that were spoken of, told throughout their Clan, a name respected amongst their family, within their homes – for himself.

He needed to meet a real StarClan cat.
For himself.

Smokepaw bobbed his head awkwardly at Mothglow, gulping discreetly, forcing himself to to gag down that lump in his throat. He breathed a curt exchange of gratitude before collalsing down, tentatively inching forward. Exhaling a whirling cloud into the clammy atmosphere, he scrunched his eyes shut and thrusted his nose into the his own reflection. Drowsiness edged onto his vision, wispy tendrils constricting the corners of his sight. He knew he was to wake up in a slumber marked by the constellations. These stars that encloaked him were venerated by the world around him...

and he wanted to find out if their inhabitants really were so wise.

"StarClan."

An eclipsed gaze, clouded with wariness, flitted far into the distance; he squinted in a frail attempt to discern any other. Warrior, apprentice... stars, a kit, even... he was impatient to meet one, any one, just to get a taste of who these cats really were.

Let's see if you're really worth my reverence.