Pyrik's Moonstone Journey

Rookfire padded over to the apprentice's den, two batches of herbs in his mouth. Sorrel, daisy, chamomile, and burnet, with one batch of herbs laced with heather nectar to make it a little sweeter for the apprentice he would be taking to the Moonstone. The last time he ate those herbs, he grimaced at the taste, which made him feel bad for the apprentices who had to eat these. Because of this, he took the time to add heather nectar to some of the traveling herbs that he had... and he accidentally chose one that didn't have the nectar as well as one which did.

Poking his head into the apprentice's den, the black tuxedo called out to the cat that he would take to the Moonstone. "Pyrik, it's time for your moonstone journey," he called, putting down the heather nectar-filled bundle for the apprentice. The leaves seemed to hold the nectar properly, but the liquid inside might be surprising to the apprentice if Rookfire didn't tell him about it. "By the way, I put heather nectar into your traveling herb bundle to help sweeten it up, so it's a little liquidy."

Taking the other bundle of herbs, the black tuxedo tried to bite into it. The bitter taste overflowed him, and he could barely swallow it down. It wasn't eye-watering like the last time, but it still was bad. Hopefully Pyrik's tastes better than mine did. Once Pyrik finished eating his herbs, Rookfire grinned at him. "Alright, let's go!" he said, leading Pyrik to the Moonstone.

In a way, not knowing the specifics of what a Moonstone journey was made it harder to worry about. They happened at Highstones, and they were important enough that Asylum had tried to stop the Clans from having them at any cost. The only solid thing Pyrik could fret over was the walk, and he’d already done enough walking for five lifetimes. It might not have been the most restful day’s sleep, but it was enough that he raised his head when Rookfire’s nose poked past the den’s entrance, eyes just a little foggy. “Okay—uh, just give me a second?”

Outside the den, Rookfire greeted him with a bundle of leaves. “Oh, thanks.” Pyrik sniffed at them. Burnet, maybe daisy leaves… It seemed safe enough, in any case, especially after Rookfire bit into the other bundle, so Pyrik lapped at the mixture of herbs and nectar, his muzzle wrinkling at the initial bitterness. At least it wasn’t as bad as preparing his fox pelt for the first time had been. That had a way of putting tastes into perspective.

Both of them finished their herbs before long. Rookfire promptly turned toward the camp’s exit; Pyrik hurried after him. He’d gotten a better grasp on ShadowClan’s territory thanks to Murkystrike, but the lands beyond it (aside from WindClan, which he’d rather die than set foot on anyway) were still a mystery, and getting lost on his way to Highstones would be pretty hard to justify. He kept pace a step behind the medicine cat. He’d never had a real conversation with Rookfire… Honestly, he wasn’t sure where to start, or even if he was supposed to. It couldn’t be worse than walking in silence, though. “So, um, what exactly are traveling herbs? I’ve never heard of them.”

Rookfire smiled when Pyrik asked him about traveling herbs. "Traveling herbs are just a bundle of strength-keeping herbs. Specifically, it's the herbs of sorrel, daisy, chamomile, and burnet." The black tuxedo turned back to the path, leading towards the Thunderpath that the two cats would need to cross eventually. "I assume that Iniko taught you decently about herbs, right?" After all, Pyrik was raised as an Asylum Standard, who was expected to learn basic herb usage. Then again, any training that Pyrik had must have taken place before Rookfire was made ShadowClan's medicine cat apprentice, so it wasn't a guarantee. Either way, it was a good topic to converse on after answering Pyrik's question.

Judging by Rookfire’s smile, questions were more than welcome. The tension in Pyrik’s shoulders eased. Sorrel and chamomile. Asylum’s territory had been vast enough that just about everything grew on it somewhere, but he had never seen (or eaten, for that matter) either of those herbs until now. Someday, he’d have to learn what plants hid in the marshland. Even if he earned the right to become a ShadowClan warrior, the knowledge of how to fix his own wounds was too valuable to give up.

Iniko. Pyrik stopped in place. A heartbeat’s pause, and he scrambled forward to match Rookfire again, voice kept carefully light as he looked aside. “Enough to patch myself up if something goes wrong, at least. Not so much about sicknesses and things like that. But how do you know—?” His ears flicked back. “…I guess he did help take over ShadowClan, didn’t he.” It was like asking a WindClanner how they'd met Theron.

Though Iniko did help take over ShadowClan like Pyrik said, that wasn't really how Rookfire remembered him. "Yeah, he did," the tom said. "But I really think of him as my mentor more than anything. He taught me everything I know as a medicine cat." Honestly, sometimes he didn't know what he was doing, which was bad for obvious reasons. During those times, he sometimes hoped that Iniko could help guide him whenever he needed help, but at the same time knowing that the calico tom couldn't actually give him advice, since he was probably not in StarClan.

"I appreciate everything that he gave to me, but now I've got to move forward as ShadowClan's medicine cat forward. And in the end, he still wanted the Clans to integrate into Asylum, an opinion in which we disagreed on." It obviously didn't tear their relation apart, and Rookfire was still okay with Asylum control over the clans with clan autonomy. The main reasoning behind this thought process was the fact that he thought well about the clan traditions, and didn't want to have his cultures smashed into bits. In the end, though, Iniko - and in turn Asylum - did impact his beliefs heavily, which caused the black tuxedo to hold beliefs that differed from what the warrior code said.

It was odd, hearing a cat speak of Asylum so freely with no loathing in their tone. If he’d tried to have anything close to this conversation in WindClan, it would’ve ended with someone shoving yew berries down his throat. A prickle of guilt crawled up into Pyrik’s stomach. “Me, too. Well, I guess you knew that already, but… Until Murkystrike, he was the closest thing I had to a mentor.” Some cats—Raisha—had quickly taken to life among the Standards; Pyrik, for all his kittish dedication, had been good with his paws and not much else. But Iniko had been patient. Even knowing it was founded on a lie, that still meant something to Pyrik. He bit his tongue and shuffled forward, gaze turned toward Rookfire.

Clearly, the Clans already knew how to set their differences aside when facing a common foe; if they could manage it in peacetime, too, then banding together could only benefit them. But they could decide that for themselves. By themselves. Without murders and kidnappings and cats wasting away in thorny cages. Ears briefly flattening once more, Pyrik padded on. “You’re…okay with that?” he asked after several moments, quiet, nonjudgmental. “Using what Cap—Iniko taught you, I mean. And no one talks about it?” True, Murkystrike hadn't judged him for fighting like Asylum, but they'd been in danger at the time…though medicine involved a fair bit of danger itself.

Rookfire nodded in response to Pyrik's question. "Yeah," he said. "Most of what Iniko taught me was herbs, and while cats used to talk about me being Asylum-trained, I eventually proved my loyalty to ShadowClan. Hold on, we need to cross the Thunderpath now." Turning to the Thunderpath that the two cats had to cross, Rookfire looked both ways for any incoming monsters. "Okay, the coast is clear. Run!"

After the two cats dashed through the Thunderpath, Rookfire turned back to Pyrik, panting heavily. "As I was saying," he said in one breath, "I proved my loyalty to ShadowClan, which made many of the cats who hated me in the clan slowly begin to not hate me - besides Tavora, but she had effectively left us for Asylum." Finally being able to catch his breath fully, he spoke once more. "While I mostly learned herbs from Iniko, I also learned how to fight from him. Though it's not normally useful, it helped me not be upset at being unable to become a warrior. And if ShadowClan ever gets attacked, you can bet that I will fight as hard as any warrior."

As the two cats walked to Mothermouth, Rookfire grinned at Pyrik. "Okay, here is Mothermouth. Grab my tail so you don't get lost, and I'll lead you to the Moonstone." The black tuxedo led Pyrik through the winding tunnels of Mothermouth, tunnels that the black tuxedo had already memorized by now. Eventually, the two of them arrived at the Moonstone. "Touch your nose to the Moonstone, and StarClan will come to you." It was a very cliché thing to say, but it was the truth. You touch your nose to the Moonstone, and then StarClan appears in your dreams. It's that simple.

Considering how they’d been discussing Iniko only a few heartbeats before, Rookfire’s simple answer shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, Pyrik gaped at the medicine cat. Then Rookfire was off like a dragonfly across the Thunderpath, leaving Pyrik to sprint after him, the rough surface bracingly solid under his paws after so many tree-lengths of mud. They caught their breath on the other side. Measuring his breaths in an attempt to sound less winded, Pyrik turned his gaze toward Rookfire again. That was it. No grand gestures, no fierce denial of the good things he’d learned. From the outside, Rookfire certainly seemed as much a part of ShadowClan as the others—and all it had taken was time and stubborn loyalty.

It was possible, then. Not easy, of course, but nothing was. A smile flitted across Pyrik’s muzzle. “That’s something else we’ve got in common.”

Eventually a cave’s mouth (Thunderpath, Mothermouth; Clan names could be so strange) rose over them. Pyrik fixed his jaws around Rookfire’s tail as gently as he could—with a mumbled “sorry” just in case—and they stepped from shadows into pitch black. Rookfire twisted and turned for a small eternity. Then the tunnels opened up, and darkness became blazing moonlight. Pyrik squinted into the cavern. Seeing the Moonstone at last, it dawned on him why Theron had been so insistent on guarding it; whether or not it held any real power, it felt powerful. Nothing in Asylum’s territory glowed like that.

At Rookfire’s instruction, Pyrik, trying desperately to keep his pelt from bristling, approached the Moonstone’s base and sat. StarClan will come to you. That could mean almost anything. He pressed his nose to the stone, gave a single shudder against the chill—

And suddenly, all was quiet.

Dappleshine was waiting patiently, a light wind rustling her long pelt slightly. Her ears twitched as a form started to take shape in front of her, and she looked down at the slumbering figure. A gentle smile formed on her face, and as the tom began to wake, she mewed a greeting. "Greetings, Pyrik. My name is Dappleshine. I don't know how much, if at all, you may remember me. Come, let's walk together a while, shall we?" Her tail moved in a sweeping motion, and she waited for the tom to rise and join her.

Pyrik woke up.

That was strange enough on its own, seeing as he definitely hadn’t fallen asleep in front of Rookfire—but where he’d woken up was stranger still. It smelled a bit like Fourtrees on a Gathering night, minus the old blood and the heat of a crowd. Stars dotted the grass between his curled forelegs. Though the Moonstone was gone, its silvery light beat down on him like the midday sun. He pressed a paw into the soil and its stardust, not sure whether the feeling welling inside him was terror or wonder.

A mew pulled his attention elsewhere. Pyrik froze. The voice was new, but he recognized that face, even though her eyes weren’t torn to ribbons anymore. “I—you—you’re dead,” he said, voice breaking in kittish shock. We killed you. Her, her mate, that golden she-cat. How could he forget? Then again, things like that tended not to matter in dreams. Dappleshine waved her tail in an invitation or an instruction; either way, Pyrik wasn’t going to ignore it. Dream or not, the ground underneath felt a little too real for his liking. He pushed himself up and drifted to the WindClanner’s side, watching her from the corners of his eyes.

Dappleshine blinked, her eyes softening. "You are correct, I am dead." She mewed, waiting patiently as he rose and started to walk alongside her, seeming to keep an eye on her. "This is StarClan, Pyrik. This is where clan cats come after they die, and where they spend eternity watching over the generations that come after them." They started to meander the star-filled moor slowly, taking their time as they wove through the tall gorse. "Enough about me, though. I want to hear about you. Do you have any questions for me? Anything you would like to hear? Anything you need to hear?" The silver she-cat mewed softly as the reached the top of a small hill overlooking the surrounding moorland. In the distance lay some trees.

So StarClan was real. Some of it, anyway—the parts he’d heard about during ceremonies and vigils, the Clan customs he knew best. That raised more questions than it answered. Rather than mention any of them (even he wasn’t foolish enough to say anything uncharitable about the stars to the stars), Pyrik gave a hum of uncertain acknowledgement and trailed onward beside Dappleshine. The further they walked, the more the starry landscape seemed to resemble WindClan. Some comfort that was.

Dappleshine stopped on a hill as unremarkable as any other. Sitting amid the gorse, Pyrik drew his tail around himself with a paw. The cautious optimism from his conversation with Rookfire was draining away, beaten down by familiar land and familiar faces. “Just—why are you here? I’m…Asylum.”

For exactly three heartbeats, that was all he said. It should’ve been the end of it. But Pyrik hadn’t been fully honest since the day he’d stumbled over ShadowClan’s border and promised to give them everything he had, and that sort of thing tended to wear on a cat. “Everyone’s giving me a chance because I was born in ShadowClan, but…it’s Asylum that raised me. They lied, they hurt so many cats, and I believed them—I helped them for most of my life. I can’t change that. It’s part of me. Maybe more than ShadowClan is.” He raised his free paw to cover the thin scar on his shoulder. “Every time someone here uses a word I don’t recognize, or talks about StarClan and the code, or does something I never learned about while we’re on patrol…it’s just more proof that I’ll always be Asylum, deep down. And I…I’m scared they’ll see that.” Shutting his mouth at last, he sat tall and buried his claws in the dirt.

Dappleshine gazed at him for a few heartbeats before a motherly smile took over her expression. The silence passed and finally the tom unloaded, and Dappleshine brushed her tail over his other shoulder as she continued to walk, heading towards the treeline. "I thought you were Pyrik. Asylum was a group, just as the clans are, a group made of individual cats who all have their own thoughts and personalities. You were once a small part of Asylum, yes, but you yourself are not Asylum. Not anymore than you want yourself or imagine yourself to be. You do not have to shoulder the weight of their crimes." She looked back towards Pyrik as she continued to speak. "Have you considered that they would have given you a chance regardless? Thalia was not born to ShadowClan, and neither Moonshine. Rosepaw too, she was born of Iniko, an Asylum captain, and Tavora, a ShadowClan cat who turned her back on all of them. They all have been given the same chance as you, have they not?"

The terrain started to shift, becoming more wet underpaw. Tall pine trees dotted the landscape, yet Dappleshine seemed as at home in the marshy area as she had the moor. "You are right in that Asylum raised you, and that has given you a unique view towards the clans and the cats in them. A view that is all your own, though the other kits who went missing with you share your circumstances. You are also right in that their training will always be a part of who you are, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. If you use the skills they taught you to defend the home you chose for yourself, then that's a truly wonderful thing. Your scars are as much a part of you as mine am of me, Pyrik." She turned, revealing the scars that laced over her shoulders. The eagle attack that had made her realize her feeling for Raventail stood out starkly against her pelt, her happiest moments having taken place alongside him in the moors well after that battle.

"Your mentor, Murkystrike, does she hold her imprisonment against you? She was one of the cats most hurt by Asylum's presence. Does she treat you differently, or is she cruel to you because of what Asylum did to her? You will always learn more of the clans as the days and moons pass, even the most experienced warriors learn something new with each passing night. You are no different from them, and Flintstar can see that." She paused again, settling on a somewhat dry spot near the roots of a pine tree. "You knew me as a WindClan cat, and for moons that was what I had been... However, I was not born in WindClan. I was born to two RiverClan cats, and left the only home I had ever known to come to WindClan to be with the tom I loved. My daughter went with her father when he left RiverClan some moons before I did, and stayed in ThunderClan. Flintstar is my brother, not by blood, but by love. He would not do you wrong, or lead you astray, he doesn't have the time or patience for games like that. If he says something, know that he means it. Your heart will lead you to where you need to be, you just have to be willing to listen to it and accept what may come."