December Medicine Cat Meeting 2020

The half moon had been high in the sky as Daisybloom settled in to sleep. If times had been normal, she would have gone to the medicine cat meeting. She shuffled around in her nest, still not used to being alone in the den. Mossbloom was retired, and now resided in the elder den. It was just the tabby and her herbs. She gazed at the moon, watching the stars twinkle and glitter. Was Starclan watching over them, even now? Did they care? She sighed, wrapping her tail around her body as she closed her eyes. She knew there were cats guarding her den, she couldn’t leave camp, not this late. She wanted to run to the Moonstone, ask for guidance, but she knew she couldn’t. She would end up like those who had been killed by the Asylum, and the clan needed a medicine cat.

Her eyelids drooped, and the exhausted she-cat finally fell asleep. It was a bit odd, usually she laid for hours before finding rest. But the sky was peaceful, and it felt almost calm in the camp. It seemed that just a moment later she was opening her eyes, and she sighed. Another day under the watch of the Asylum. But it seemed that the ancestors had been watching over the clans, because she didn’t wake up in her den. She gasped, looking around frantically. But she was all alone, or so she thought. A shiver ran down her spine as she looked down into a starry pond. Around her, there were hushed whispers, indiscernible chatter. Her eyes widened. "This must be...Starclan." muttered the she-cat. She found herself hypnotized by the still water, staring into it as it glimmered. There had to be a reason for this.

Oh, stars, she wished Mossbloom was here. Her mentor would have known what to do, would have provided some sort of answer. Had this ever happened before? Not while Daisybloom was a medicine cat, but perhaps moons and moons ago, when the clans were similarly cut off from Starclan. She was still, not wanting to move and wake up. It was peaceful, even if strangely eerie in this dream. There must have been a reason she was here, some sort of message to receive. And so she waited, trying to pick out words from the whispers that seemed to sweep over her with the winds, giving her chills.

If things had been different, she'd have gone to the moonstone to meet with the other medicine cats. It would have even been preferable, as much as Beechface normally didn't enjoy going. Mossbloom was always nice to talk to, and Beechface found herself wondering how the older medicine cat was faring with everything going on. She wished that she could've gone to the pretty calico for advice, at least, but with guards outside her den and roaming Skyclan's territory, Beechface stood no chance at getting out of camp without being seen.

Still no news on Bloodstrike, and no end to this occupation in sight. Dawnhawk had stepped in to do apprentice ceremonies on the deputy's behalf, and Beechface wanted to wipe the floor with his smug face every time she heard his voice ring out across the clearing.

The half-moon and stars overhead seemed particularly cold and unforgiving tonight, as Beechface restlessly tossed and turned in her nest before finally managing to get comfortable. Sleep had never been something that came easily to her, but with the feeling of being watched and trapped in the medicine den, sleep was proving to be more elusive than not.

Beechface wasn't sure when she'd crossed the divide between waking and dreaming, but her eyes opened, and she was no longer in her nest. A starry pool was in front of her, depths murky. Whispers caught her ears, too faint for her to make out words but loud enough that she knew they were there. When Beechface turned her head to see their source, nothing greeted her but starry territory. No signs of the other medicine cats, no signs of her father or Sagelight... Mossbloom, anyone who might have been able to help her make sense of it all. She was well and truly alone.

The fur lifted along Beechface's spine as she warily made it to her paws, dark gaze sweeping her surroundings once more. The water in front of her seemed unnaturally still, cold starlight reflecting back at the sky above. Beechface gazed at it, hoping that her desire for answers would not be in vain.

Rookpaw crawled intow his new medicine cat nest. Since Iniko was an outsider to the Clans, the calico tom didn't give Rookpaw his apprentice name like the black tuxedo expected. Of course, it made sense in hindsight, but he still was disappointed at the time being. It didn't stop him from helping to maintain peace with ShadowClan and Asylum, however. After all, the job of a medicine cat was to stay neutral and to not take sides, and he was going to be the best cat for the job. Nobody can tell me otherwise. The young tom fell asleep surprisingly quickly despite the energy that he had before going to bed.

It seemed like he woke up immediately, greeted by the starry sky. He wasn't in his den anymore, and by observing the twinkling stars surrounding the area he was in, he assumed that he was in StarClan. Was ShadowClan going to get a prophecy? He didn't know for sure, but he was certainly open to listening to the starry cats if they arrived. "I'm ready," he said to the stars. "Tell me what my Clan needs to know." It probably didn't make the message arrive faster, but the black-and-white tom thought that it wouldn't hurt to try.

Now, what would he do with the message once he received it? He didn't know how he felt about Iniko knowing that information, since despite how the black-and-white tom liked the Asylum Standard, Iniko was still that: a member of Asylum. Of course, ShadowClan was recently integrated into Asylum as well, but due to how Asylum forbade Moonstone Journeys, the Asylum cats probably weren't very tolerant of the Clans' belief in StarClan. And his mentor wasn't connected to StarClan at all, so telling Iniko about the prophecies would be useless. He didn't even use the word 'medicine cat' at all, instead describing the position as a 'healer'. Rookpaw didn't see that as a bad thing, just a word choice that showed that he wasn't completely connected to Clan jargon.

"Dappleshine! Dappleshine!'

Softbreeze instantly knew she was going to wake up in StarClan the moment she fell asleep. It was the half moon, and if StarClan could speak to apprentices, they could speak to medicine cats. So, upon waking, Softbreeze did the only logical thing; call out for the cat she'd murdered. "Dappleshine! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She cried, tears falling down her cheeks, pressing down the fur. A cool breeze swept the liquid away, leaving faint water stains that would dry and add to her disheveled look. "I'm sorry!" She cried again, desperate.

After a couple heartbeats, she still received no answer. With a choked sob, Softbreeze fell to her knees, head bowed in grief. "Strip me of my life..." she murmured, "Strip me of my title... Just, please, let me know you've heard me, Dappleshine. Please..."

If happiness came after great pain, Softbreeze did not think she would survive to see it. Alone, sad, and friendless. That was her life now and she'd learned to adjust to it. Whispers surrounded her, filling her with insurmountable dread. Slowly, she stood, making her way to the star flecked pond she'd been summoned to. Peering over the edge slowly, she saw her reflection rippled into the water. Tears filled her eyes, and even in StarClan, her eyes couldn't escape the redness of misery. With a frown and an angry hiss, she lashed out at her reflection, swiping her claws across it, causing it to ripple away, replaced by the starry sky.

"Goldengale! Finchstar! Dad, mom! Raventail, Aspenheart! Dappleshine! Is-- is anyone there? Echolight, Darksong? Someone? Featherlight, Sagelight, Mistleshine, Mothglow? Elmskip, Ploverpuddle, Eveningpaw? Please-- talk to me!" Softbreeze pleaded, looking around as she spewed out names, eyes wide and desperate. "Please! If you're angry with me, don't punish WindClan! Tell me what I need to do to get rid of these monsters! If I have to die to do so, I will!"

Softbreeze received still no answer.


She'd never felt so small before.

The area surrounding the star-filled lake seemed to shimmer, and in the blink of an eye the previously empty space seemed filled with multitudes of StarClan warriors. Familiar faces could be picked out from among them, long lost family and friends, and new, fresh losses to the clans. Leaders of old stood among Clanmates young and old, and the air seemed to still with their arrival. A collective voice rode from the group, filling the air with the message StarClan had to deliver.

"You do not stand alone. We are still here, still listening, still watching. This was outside of our control, but know that just as each clan stands together, both within themselves and as a collective, we stand with you as well. Together, we can overcome. Together, we will overcome. Stand strong, stand tall, and stand steady." With the final words, most of the group turned and disappeared, returning to StarClan's hunting grounds. However, some familiar faces remained behind for all to see.

A gray tabby appeared from the hazy fog which sought to suppress the gazes of onlookers. Her stature was small and unimposing. Myriads of scars crossed her pelt in various places but perhaps the most alluring feature was the burning glow of twin pools of yellowed light. These eyes found Rookpaw and bore into him, as if staring into his soul. Wolffang had never had a flare for dramatics like her young self might have entertained. Yet she was an intense creature when not indulging herself in pestering the living and today she helped to carry the weight of her late sister.

Under the most unusual of circumstances a Shadowclan-born cat was training underneath one of their Asylum oppressors. Rookpaw was a curious creature, one that had caught her gaze. Ahead of him was an uncertain path. Two forces tugged his pelt, splitting it like the contrast of black and white across his coat. When she spoke, her voice crackled across the breeze with a sharp rasp, “Your paws are set on shifting sand, young one. Find your stable ground. Starclan is standing behind you.” There was nothing else to be said and she merely flicked her tail in dismissal. The stars would be watching him, but Rookpaw had to tread his own path.

From the star-laden crowd came a silver tabby, a grim expression on his grizzled face. Aspenheart raised his nasally voice for all to hear: "StarClan has seen the plight of WindClan. The time has come for a new medicine cat to be trained in the mystic ways. I implore the medicine cat of WindClan, Softbreeze, to accept the medicine cat apprentice that comes to her, regardless of the circumstances by which they are chosen. These times are dire. Do not be picky."

Before moving off into the throng of spirits, Aspenheart walked forward to speak to Softbreeze. In a quiet voice now, he made sure that no other medicine cat could hear. This message was not StarClan's. The stars seemed to fade from his pelt, giving a quality to his body that made him seem nearly alive once again... and yet, he did not meet Softbreeze's eyes. "You walk a dark and lonely path. As I watch WindClan, I see my apprentice growing more bitter, more defiant, and more irritable by the day. You are lost, and not the cat I knew in life. Dappleshine's death, while avoidable, will not be fixed with more violence. Your duty is to heal, not threaten. Not rebel. Not fight. This is not you." He stepped back. "I have seen the path ahead, and the darkness in your mind, if unchecked, will only bring more suffering for our clanmates. Please. Stand down." Glassy-eyed, and without another word, Aspenheart faded back into the crowd.

With the last of their affairs attended to, the cats of the stars became wispy and translucent. They blended together before the medicine cats' very eyes, becoming one entity: Silverpelt, stretching across the clearing until there was nothing left but sky. It swirled around the medicine cats, dizzying their senses and pitching them back into abyssal darkness. They awoke in their dens with the twilight colors of early morning still shining in between the patches of their den walls. The vision was over, it seemed, as quickly as it had began.  

ooc: paragraphs 1 and 2 written by Moss, paragraphs 3 and 4 written by Ripped, paragraphs 5, 6, and 7 written by Grizz

"...I refuse..."

The whisper was quiet, defiant, but she made eye contact as she spoke, unlike her mentor who avoided her gaze. "I've always challenged authority, Aspenheart. Do you not remember that one night and the consequences it had?" With her tail, she pointed at his muzzle, and the scars that still laced it. "You don't need to remind how lonely and depressing my life is; I think I know that enough. I know I killed Dappleshine. I've admitted it, I've cried about it, I've begged for forgiveness. But do I get so much as a 'no I don't forgive you' or a 'yes, I'll forgive you' from any cat in StarClan? No! I'm left to my misery, wondering where I went wrong, how I could've stopped this. I wish it had been me! Oh Finchstar, do I wish it had been me. I'm so tired of pretending. I can't do this anymore! I've run out of smiles to fake and I've run out of tears to spill.  I will never stop fighting for WindClan. This is my home, the only place I've ever known. I love all the cats here and all of those who've left. You've always been to fast to give in. Finchstar wouldn't give up right now. He died with dignity, fighting for what he's always believed in; love. I'll do the same. I won't go down without a fight."

"But," she continued, "I'm no fool. Neither are you. We both know that no matter what I do, WindClan will never submit. It's just who we are. We're too vocal for our own good sometimes, and that's the most WindClan thing about us. We'll never submit to them and you and I both know this. StarClan cannot predict the future; if they could the Righteous Few would've never gotten so bad. Cats died even if they didn't fight them, the same will happen here. Goldengale is dead. My sister is dead! They didn't even give her a chance! They-- they just killed her and brought her corpse to us like we'd submit after that! I'm ashamed of you, Aspen. I never took you for a coward. I guess neither of us know each other like we thought we did."

"Oh, and Aspen? I already agreed to Nerio's terms about my apprentice. You didn't need to call it out in front of everyone. I'm not a kit. Stubborn, yes, but my father didn't raise a fool. I have healed my Clanmates. I've done my duty. But there is more to being a medicine cat than herbs and prophecies. I cannot protect my Clanmates by submitting to the enemy. I'll remain silent, I have been, but I won't give in. When it's time to fight, I'll fight just as much as any warrior. Because WindClan deserves as much. They deserve a selfless hero who'd die for them. I may not be a hero, but I will die for them. I kept my vow and I always will; I will die for these moors. You've wasted my time with information that is useless, Aspenheart, and time is invaluable."

It was unusual for her to be so bitter with her former mentor, but he wasn't understanding. How could she stand down? She was a stubborn breed; she would not away so easily. Dappleshine's death had made her quiet down, but nothing would quell the blazing fire of her heart. In the beginning, her voice had been sad and pained, laced with heavy grief and sorrow. Now it was angry and miserable, still dunked into the pool of sorrow and grief as before but noticably more spiteful. Softbreeze thought that of all cats, Aspenheart would've understood how she felt, but looking bad he'd always resorted to surrendering.

It seemed fitting that their first fight and their last were both over Softbreeze's refusal to stand down and Aspenheart's willingness to give in. As the swirling darkness began to overtake them, Softbreeze turned her back on where Aspenheart had stood, her heart filled with the same pain, if not more, as when she'd first awoken in this dream.

With the StarClan cats' message, Rookpaw smiled. Alright. It's nice to know that StarClan has my back. Of course, not just him: they had the other medicine cats' backs as well. Not even the threatening figure of a StarClan cat could bring fear to the young tom's eyes. The cat's sharp golden eyes glaring into Rookpaw's green ones, the StarClan cat spoke. And Rookpaw listened to what the she-cat had to say.

He was unique, in that he was torn between two worlds; the Asylum and ShadowClan. That had to be what this StarClan cat meant when she said that he was on shifting sand. He wasn't sturdy, grounded to one side. And StarClan helped him realize exactly what side he had to take. The black tuxedo smirked, exposing his thoroughly cleaned teeth. "I will," he said with total confidence. "I will find my stable ground. You can count on me, mysterious StarClan cat."

What StarClan told him reinforced the idea that although Iniko seemed like a good cat (from what Rookpaw could tell, he definitely was), he and the rest of Asylum were trying to rip the traditions away from the clans, erase moons and moons of tradition that has held the test of time. Except the flaws in the Clans' structures were more than real, and from Iniko's point of view they were just confused cats that needed guidance to be shown true freedom. Under the Asylum's rule, he thought. But exactly how bad is it? We're basically living like that right now, and it's not that bad, right?

Perhaps the shifting sands he was standing on were more complicated to navigate than he first thought.