Flashpaw's StarClan Dream

Peace and a dream-like, ethereal trance were what met Flashpaw after she'd drifted off into sleep. It was a welcome difference from what life under Asylum's rule was like for just about any cat. A starlit pool surrounded by reeds appeared, slowly taking form as the world around Flashpaw transformed. This dream was much more than just a much-needed break from the foreign occupation that plagued the Clans- it was Flashpaw's opportunity to speak with the ancestors, to learn whatever lesson their ancient wisdom had to offer.

Distantly, this peace felt a little strange. As did the starry landscape, a place that felt a bit like an echo of her kitlike daydreams. A reprieve, of sorts, from the trials that came with living day to day; more so now than ever before. She gazed into the water - it wasn't frozen over, as the water of the waking world was - and reached a paw out toward it, just brushing over her own distorted reflection when one she didn't know appeared beside her own. As the ripples she'd created started to fade, she turned to face the stranger with a faint sort of curiosity.

“I’ve been waiting for the chance to speak with you.”

Flashpaw didn’t recognize the cat before her; her shimmering fur a light gray and accented white, her eyes a deeply sparkling blue that almost seemed to reflect the color of the river on a sunny greenleaf afternoon. All the sun and starlight in the world, however, couldn’t have gathered a different response than the one she gave - half disinterested, half accusatory. “Who are you?”

The starry she-cat sighed deeply. “I wonder, sometimes, about how swiftly we lose sight of our own history. My time was over long before yours began, it’s true... But perhaps the name Swanpetal will mean something to you.”

Swanpetal was her grandmother’s name. Her mother’s mother, who lost her life in the flood that was only a distant memory now; a tale for elders to share with the kits. Somehow, she’d always expected a cat so much older than her to look the part; but the starry she-cat seemed to not be too much older than Flashpaw herself.

Something in her expression must have betrayed that she did, in fact, recognize the name; because the StarClan warrior’s own was faintly smug. “Yes, I thought that might do the trick for you. But I believe that’s enough of the formalities. As I said: I’ve been waiting for the chance to speak with you, Flashpaw.”

She nodded in response, bowing her head just slightly. Enough to show some modicum of respect, at the very least. “And I’ve been waiting to listen to the wisdom of my ancestors.”

That some cats certainly took the idea of StarClan’s wisdom far too seriously didn’t mean that they had nothing of value to share.

(Besides, this wasn’t some stranger from a time long past - not entirely so, at least. This was her kin. This was worth listening to.)

In an instant, Swanpetal's expression darkened. “If I may ask, to begin - what in the name of StarClan is wrong with you?”

At this, the RiverClan apprentice flinched back; as if she’d somehow been struck by the thin air between them. “...E-excuse me?”

“You think yourself better than those around you; laying claim to your supposed superiority at every opportunity. You hold the cats that surround you to impossible standards, and yourself to ones that are even more so. Your judgment is as swift as it is harsh, and your mind difficult to change once it’s made. Is that right, Flashpaw?”

When she’d declared that she was ready for StarClan’s wisdom, she hadn’t expected to be verbally assaulted with a lengthy list of her own perceived personal flaws. “I-”

“Quiet.” The word was far from shouted - closer to a whisper, honestly - but still seemed to echo in the space around them. “I’m not yet done. Your claws and tongue are sharp indeed, but you often lash out when it’s entirely unnecessary. And yet I know you’re not stupid; so you must know perfectly well that your pretty face will only carry you so far in this life.”

This time, she knew better than to interrupt. She stood perfectly still, seething in her silence and wondering what ‘wisdom’ Swanpetal would see fit to share with her next.

“And I suppose you must wondering just why I’ve taken it upon myself to say all this. I’ve heard it said countless times that history repeats itself…” The StarClan warrior’s expression softened just a bit. “And I can see myself reflected in you. I was many things, Flashpaw… But I wasn’t happy. Not for a long time, at least.”

This did little other than irritate the apprentice in question, who only stood taller in response. “Well, you might have been miserable, but I am perfectly content with myself, thank you,” she snapped. “So kindly keep your judgments to yourself!”

“If you don’t wish to listen, then I won’t make you. Just, please… Try not to repeat my mistakes.” There was something else in her expression - if Flashpaw hadn’t known any better, she might have believed it to be something like sympathy. “If you must, try to make your own.”

The apprentice narrowed her eyes. So far, StarClan had been far less impressive than she’d been led to expect; and her own ancestors far less understanding. As far as she could tell, if ignoring their wisdom was a mistake, it might haven been the best one she could make. “Maybe I will.”

“The right path is never entirely clear, is it?” Swanpetal sighed deeply. “May the light guide you, even still. Especially now, when everything is shrouded in the dark… It’s not my place to decide your fate, Flashpaw. Go now, and choose for yourself.”

At this - with the last words between them now spoken - the starry landscape began to dissipate, and her dreams faded into something more mundane before returning her at last to the waking world. And when Flashpaw woke, there was no grand revelation; no peace of mind. Only a lingering sense of frustration.

And she had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t just going to wash away.