Moonpaw's Moonstone Journey

Rookfire took Moonpaw to the Moonstone.

Moonpaw ate the herbs, went through the Mothermouth and touched her nose to the moonstone!

From the vibrant, star-studded, swatch of navy, scenery began to take shape. Sparse trees stretched in a mimicry of the marshlands below. A tall and lean figure stepped forwards with a coat that seemed to reflect the shimmering breath of the afterlife. Underneath a fiery red pelt were the hardened muscles of a warrior. Crossing the tom's coat was a myriad of well-earned scars; each told a story of a battle won... or a fight at least survived. The limp he'd possessed near the end of his life was non-existent in this alleged paradise. At least it was one thing he could find comfort in.

The Shadowclan warrior looked weary, despite his eyes being kind and inviting. He offered a nod to the young she-cat before settling back on his haunches, "Welcome to Starclan, Moonpaw, I hope it's as glorious as the elders have made it out to be." There was no twitch of whiskers, the words seemed genuine enough, "My name is Flamestrike, I once was a warrior of Shadowclan many moons ago under Thrushstar and Magpiestar. Surely at least Thrushstripe's name has come up before." His tail flickered. Did Shadowclan even care about such ancient history? Crazy, old Thrushstar was at least worth mentioning regardless.

The world had faded around her, and before she knew it, she was surrounded by stars. A shimmering warrior stood before her and if she hadn't been experiencing it for herself, Moonpaw would never have believe this was possible. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her jaw hung open. There was a level of awe and disbelief that both chilled and warmed her to the core. Unable to speak at first, Moonpaw shook her head. If she had heard of Thrushstar before this, she couldn't recall it now.

"I... no. Thrushstripe hasn't been mentioned to me I don't think..." She couldn't help but gasp even after she had been staring for as long as she had been. The Asylum hadn't taught her much in the ways of ancient deities. As a matter of fact, things like this had been forbidden. Now she knew why. To look a Starclan warrior in the eye was mystical and humbling. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to remember to draw breath.

"You'll have to forgive me I didn't think... I never imagined that..." She couldn't even finish her sentence. Too much was going through her head to fast to think, let alone make a coherent sentence. "...Yep." She gave up, unable to keep her words together anyway. "So what of Thrushstripe? Surely you brought him up for a reason?"

The wonderous awe of a young cat seemed to strike a chord in his chest. All at once the tom remembered being young himself, weighed by his own given burdens but pressing forward with determination for the beliefs and morals he had prescribed to - one's he'd managed to fail in his time in the forest. But this dream-like hope was one that was warrior had also seen written across the face of his kits before being twisted with scorn. There was something purely innocent about the way she regarded the ancestors, regarded him, and with the torrent of emotion washing over him, the hardened warrior managed a flicker of a smile.

"Thrushstripe was a crazy old bat." Flamestrike finally meowed. Despite regarding the expression on the apprentice's face, he did little to acknowledge it, "There was a time when cats of the forest thought he would never die. Surely, he was insane having endured so many moons of leadership but... there was still a certain wisdom about his madness. And he was determined. Thrushstripe always did what he thought needed to be done, no matter the situation. He inspired me, even if I could never quite live up to it..." He trailed off, green eyes flickering with words left unsaid.