Smokepaw's Warrior Ceremony

So, of course – against all the fuzzy, yet stinging, yet sweet and perplexing odds – he scooted closer to her.

Of all the cats.

Everything amplified.

Oh, why?

His question was acknowledged in sharp time.
Not by Ebonysong, but by Flintstar.

And it was an answer that rendered him wholly unresponsive.

Had he heard that right...?
Were his ears perceiving sound mistakenly?

Was he apprehending, understanding, comprehending, fathoming...
those words...
correctly?

It was...
his turn?

Paralysis shackled him to his haunches, mind whirring in incomprehension. Eyes lacklustre in fazed astonishment, words refusing to register in his conscious mind, the tom dumbfoundedly stared ahead, eyes pivoted to nothing in particular. Those four words, the utterance of his name, slurred into nebulous uncertainty. Pulsating heartbeats, or, perhaps, the lack of them, jolted him to formulating reality. His tail tip bristled in qualm, still half-convinced that he had severely misheard.

But if...

if they thought that...
he was ready.. worthy...

Smokepaw's paws stuttered forwards,
ungainly faltering apparent in his steps,
stalling themselves,
as if on foreign territory.

And it was
with doubt.


Uneven gaze elevated evenly, fluorescing like lucid strews of fireworks. They squinted, hues mismatched, yet glistening with anticipation. With each new prickle along his spine, the realness of the situation seemed to engrave itself into his recognition. Shallow shock was evanescing to accommodate stinging exhilaration. While uneasiness was still present, especially under the spotlight before many others, newfound composure was absorbed with a laboured intake of breath. Restlessness manifested through the shivering of his paws, the jittering of his whiskers. This was the moment, this was the time. This was the ceremony that he had so pursued for countless moons, too tedious to count.


Breathe in.
Breathe out.

Count your breaths.
Steady your lungs.
Steady yourself.
Ready yourself.

This was what it would all count for.


“Smokepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan…”
“...even at the cost of your life?"


This was a vow, undying.
This was a promise, everlasting.

His mind was stimulated with vigour;
with the vigour of retention and viligance,
of the vents and venom and viciousness,
of the values and virtues and valiance.

Remembrance reverberating.
Remixed; criss-crossed.

Cross walks,
and crossed hearts,
and hope-to-dies.

Ready or not,
he had made up his mind.

Smokepaw would ardently devote to his oath.
A bond, blood-bound.

And it was
without doubt.


"I do."

Smokespirit.

Valor.
Fortitude.

Warrior of ShadowClan.

Unearthly. Smokespirit's benumbed paws tingled, claws steadying into the ground, as those titles ingrained themselves into his consciousness. Virtues that had been instilled, which he would continue to act upon, as the foundation of all he did. The vow of a warrior was entrenched within his mind, an immutable anchor to his life; and it would forever remain so, without dispute, without fail, without doubt. And so would family ties. ShadowClan would always be extended family… but there were those who were at the heart of it all. As those placid words cascaded from Flintstar’s mouth, his unscarred eye beamed with a mellow glint. Licking his brother’s shoulder earnestly, a rumbling purr erupted from his own throat, sincerity suffocating its guttural thunders.

“Flintstar… thank you. For always being there for me.. for us. You’re my… you’re my inspiration.”

After a few heartbeats of hushed equilibrium, it was with some regret when he finally recoiled. Barely a second of further stillness embraced him afterwards; rather, a scrambling mass of fur did. A faint oomph puffed from his lips, a cry of rare laughter escaping his mouth as Ebonysong tackled him. Smokespirit was surprised by the euphoria that had engulfed his senses, losing balance as they crashed together. Murky sage met periwinkle, a celestial exchange.

Cerulean depths. Oceanic orbs.


Blinking icy lights.


He lost himself every time.
They drowned him.

Perhaps, he was starting to revel in the truth of it...

“Ahah… it was. I didn’t expect… a-after all this time.. i-it, it feels surreal.” Breathless gasps clapped from his throat. They were tinged with dazed delight, bordering subdued shock. Maybe it was the physical impact as they entangled clumsily – but it was also the mental stupor that grinded at his thoughts. Ebonysong's words weighed the world back down, whirring without end. This was a dream, wasn't it? “No... I had so much more to learn.. blindness, and all. You worked so hard; you deserved it.”

"And now..."
"I finally made it."

Countless.
All those moons had counted.
All those moons were counting.
And this is what they were counting for.

But this wasn't only his victory.

Thank you, Ravenmist.
Thank you, Redwolf.
Thank you, Mothglow, Viperpaw, Briarthorn.

The present wrenched him down like gravity.
This was no longer dreaming; this was reality.

“Thank you, Ebonysong.”

Twinkling gaze raising to the sky,
still thoughts reverberated in his ears;
quiet, tranquil, serene,
lost in the sequestered place of his own mind.

It was bittersweet.
Smokespirit smiled.


There was one final cat who he had to thank.


Am I making you proud, Ma?