Orangepaw’s Starclan Dream

Daisybloom was still in shock from the occurrences just a few sunrises before. Beecloud had been attacked, and she had seen so much blood. It echoed the incident with Dustcloud in an eerie way, leaving her paws just as bloodstained as they had been moons ago. The warrior had been in her den since then, and he was doing a lot better than she had imagined. Of course, that wasn’t much, but he was on the mend. He would be back to normal soon, although the claws of the Asylum had dug deep into his skin.

It was dark now, and she sighed, waiting. Orangepaw was ready to meet with Starclan, and she hoped the apprentice would have more luck than she was having. Starclan had barely told her anything, just to keep hope. She had been trying, but it was like a stream, and drinking from it every day was making it start to dry out. The medicine cat was confused, and it was these times that made her wish Mossbloom hadn’t retired. But the elder probably wouldn’t have any more to offer than what Daisybloom knew. It was her responsibility to be the sole medicine cat.

She had instructed Orangepaw, like she had done with the other apprentices, to sneak into her den at night. Then he would sleep in her den and get some message from their ancestors. She waited for the young tom to join her, the camp seemingly silent.

As OrangePaw was instructed he went into the medicine cat den quietly as possible. When he got there he greeted DaisyBloom with a nod and went to sleep.

Unlike some of his fellow StarClanners, Galeheart had never dreamed of advising his Clan’s apprentices. Fortunately, two moons of watching those pelt-wearing Asylum rats rampage through his home had changed his tune. He wanted nothing more than to tear them apart with his own claws, but a dead cat couldn’t hurt the living. For the first time in his life, words were the greatest—the only—power he had. That was…intimidating, somehow. Still, what kind of warrior would he be if he couldn’t adapt?

As the orange-furred apprentice woke, surrounded by star-speckled trees much like ThunderClan’s own, Galeheart stood to meet him. His gray-tipped tail stood proud at his back. “Orangepaw of ThunderClan, am I right?” That was the one thing he’d planned—the one thing he’d gone out of his way to ask about, in fact. A grin flashed across his face. “Welcome to Silverpelt. The name’s Galeheart—I’m one of your Clanmates, or I would've been." He quieted for a moment, amber-eyed gaze sweeping over Orangepaw. The tip of his tail began to flick back and forth. "We’ll start with a question. What would you say being a warrior’s about?”

“Yep I’m OrangePaw also I think being a warriors about ... protecting the clan and following the warrior code? ”

Not even a flicker of surprise. Galeheart wilted. Only for a heartbeat, though. No matter how badly he’d wanted to catch the apprentice off-guard, that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting. “That’s mostly right,” he said, and stepped closer. “The day-to-day stuff matters too, even if it doesn’t sound as impressive.” At least Asylum’s occupation hadn’t stopped Orangepaw from learning what set Clan cats apart from the rest. Galeheart sat. The jagged scar on his belly, more visible now, glimmered with faint starlight. “Second question. It’s easy to say you’ll protect your Clan—but do you know what that means?” Every ThunderClanner knew what to say when Oakstar—or Nettlestar, these days—gave them the oath; understanding that, and everything that came with it, was something else entirely.

“That mostly right” alright so he did know what being a warrior was about “Second Question. It’s easy to say you’ll protect your Clan— but do you know what that means?” He thought about it for a while then said uhh... to protect my clan with my life?

Orangepaw hesitated a few heartbeats longer before giving his answer. Galeheart grinned. “Exactly. You know, I died in battle.” It hadn’t been the most glorious end, at the claws of a raccoon rather than a pack of beast-wearing invaders—but his death had made ThunderClan a little bit safer. He’d had seasons to come to terms with it. “If—when the time comes,” no doubt it would; Asylum had shed so much ThunderClan blood already, “you should be ready to do the same.” Galeheart blinked down at the apprentice. Maybe that was asking too much of such a young cat. Still, Orangepaw was almost a warrior; he’d be promising the same thing to Nettlestar soon enough.

The stars in Galeheart’s fur began to shine brighter, drowning out the light of the forest around them. He was out of time. Another problem with being stuck in Silverpelt. “Just be brave,” he said, and pushed himself to his feet, striped tail lashing furiously as he faded from Orangepaw’s view. “That’s the kind of warrior ThunderClan needs.”

After GaleHeart started to vanish OrangePaw said I will do my best GaleHeart!” a bit surprised that he had remembered GaleHearts name, after a few moments he woke up was sunrise already? Well that was quick.