Flashpaw's StarClan Dream

It was the day after the takeover. The night prior, at Goldengale's vigil, she'd incoherently whispered to Flashpaw to fake having a thorn in his paw the next night. She could only pray this would work. Dappleshine remained in her den, and at the moment she was asleep and stable. "Flashpaw?" She called, fake worry in her voice. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" As the tom explained his so-called injury and lifted his foot, she nodded. Softbreeze had come prepared, and she unnoticeably slipped a thorn from under her nest into the open floor in front of her. Making a noise as if she'd spat the thorn out, she sympathetically glanced at the tom. "You can rest here tonight, let me get some yarrow and marigold, you can use this nest back here."

Softbreeze had prepared a nest for the tom to lay in, hidden in the dark crevices of her den, while she got the yarrow and marigold out. She knew she was being closely monitored, and so even though it pained her to, she applied a poultice to a non-existent injury. However, she made barley any as to not waste as much precious herbs as she could. "Now you rest, and have a nice rest, okay? Goodnight, Flashpaw, and may StarClan protect us all." The molly curled up in her own nest beside Dappleshine and closed her eyes, but sleep never came to her. Have a nice, er, experience, Flashpaw. A good dream experience.

Everything felt wrong. Flashpaw should have been led across the moors to the Moonstone as tradition had dictated, not feigning an injury to covertly speak to his Clan’s medicine cat and, hopefully, his ancestors. But dutifully, the tom did what Softbreeze had asked of him the night of Goldengale's vigil.
He played along with her acting as he limped over to the prepared nest. He held back his protests when Softbreeze brought out some of her real herb stores to help the charade along. Everyone in camp had heard what one of the Asylum cats had done to them the night before. As he settled down to sleep, he made a promise to himself that he would help her look for more herbs to sure up WindClan’s store before the oncoming frosts of Leafbare set in. May StarClan protect us all, he silently echoed Softbreeze’s prayer as he drifted into a fitful slumber.

Aspenheart wandered curiously into the clearing. It was not the place where he usually met apprentices, but, as it were... they couldn't reach the Moonstone. It was a pity, but the old geezer didn't mind a foray into a different stomping ground. His tail crackled out like a whip behind him, as it would if he were still living. But all signs of his ailment were gone now. His legs worked, and he had full range of motion. He supposed old habits really did die hard.

He mewed to catch Flashpaw's attention. "Hey, kitten-fluff," he said, high and nasally, "Welcome to StarClan. This is as far as we can reach right now... just into your nests. I'm sorry it has to be this way."

There was a faint scowl present in Aspenheart's features. "I should have known this would happen. I was alive when Theron and the Nightstrikers first tried to conquer WindClan. What a bunch of idiots. Their leader got impaled on the very Moonstone they're keeping you away from. If you ask me, I think they're just scared of what we might do if we get them alone in there." With a wink, he continued, "My name is Aspenheart. I was WindClan's medicine cat for many seasons. Softbreeze was my apprentice. I served under three leaders and saw countless cats come and go... I've seen a few things. But I wonder, scrap, what have you seen?"

At the sound of Aspenheart’s voice, Flashpaw turned to see the former medicine cat with a mix of relief and excitement. Thank Stars it had worked without the Moonstone. He dipped his head respectfully to the older tom cat as he searched for the right words.
“I’ve seen WindClan surrender to those foxhearts,” he eventually mumbled, his fur beginning to prickle with barely contained agitation. He’d managed to keep a lid on his frustration since Theron had left her thugs in camp to spy on them. But here, with Aspenheart, the only prying ears were those of StarClan. “They killed Goldengale— and Dappleshine! And now they threaten the rest of the Clan!” His voice shook as it grew in volume. With ears flattened to his head, he looked up at the medicine cat pleadingly. “How can I serve WindClan if I can’t fight for my clanmates with tooth and claw?!”