Minkstream's Leader Ceremony

When had he last felt this nervous? Minkstream took a deep breath, paws shifting against the ground, the short, mossy grass that sprouted near the ferns of the medicine den rubbing underneath them. Minkstream. Strom. Different names that he'd held over the course of his life - been born with and somehow kept. I'm not ready for this. Stars, they probably won't even accept me. And yet... what would he be after this if they did? A part of him fought against the concept of his name changing yet again. Like sand shifting underneath him....

Images flickered through his mind. A smile lit by the golden sun, a hint of blue eyes and a quiet purr. Laughter flickering in wet droplets, and sparkling green that met his gaze - alight with mischief. Dapples of brightness scattered over the ground - bygone days when things were clear, simple, steady.... They twinged at him, dug into his core with softly bleeding lines that dripped to the scattered present where the chill stirring of a breeze pulled at his fur, chasing the fragmented clouds across the sky.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes against the throbbing in his head. It beat to the quickened rhythm of his heart, demanding and faintly dizzying, leading the source of his anxiety to fizzle and waver at the edges of his agitated thoughts, almost sliding away even as he focused on it. "Maybe we should leave it for another day."

"Don't even think about it." Mossbloom had just heard the tom's words, and she moved in front of him to fix him with a stern, but kind expression. "You have a duty, not only to yourself, but to your clan. To your family. To Batbite. To all of us. You've waited long enough. If they don't accept you for who you are, then they're wrong. Stars knows it wouldn't be the first time. We'll figure it out. But first, you need to do your part. The past isn't changing or going anywhere, so stop dwelling in it and waiting for change to come to you. Be the change you want to see, in the clan, and in yourself. Come now, let's get your herbs together. You have a long journey ahead of you, and so does Dovefrost. I'll watch over the clan while you're gone, along with Batbite. If you try to run away, so help me Minkstream, I'll drag you to the Moonstone myself." She mewed, but with the gray in her muzzle and along her back the threat lacked substance. The look in her eyes left little doubt that she would certainly try though.

Dovefrost's green eyes caught sight of his leader as he brought the bundle of herbs out for him. The white tom, after having already consumed his, carefully placed the other bundle at Minkstream's feet. "Nope. I already ate the herbs, you aren't getting out of it." The medicine cat said flatly, ears drawn back. He wasn't going to let those herbs go to waste. He didn't need to mention anymore on getting his leader to the moonstone. Mossbloom had already covered all of the valid reasons for it, while he covered the petty reason to do it. Now all that was left was to get him out of the camp, and to the stone.

"Though to be fair, I would love to see Mossbloom drag you to the Moonstone. I think it would be funny." The tom said, letting the words sit for a second before speaking again. "Now come on, eat your herbs and let us get this long journey started. We don't have all day."

Mossbloom's voice made him blink and turn to see her just as she stepped in front of him, and... well.... she was right. Everything that had happened, all of this.... He remembered tears and claws slitting his skin, pain that was nothing compared to that tearing his chest apart from the inside. Sometimes... just a kick in the tail was needed. Though he did eye her with a hint of incredulity at that last.

Dovefrost's flat words broke in next, and he raised a paw in surrender, a smile twisting at the corners of his maw. It probably would be funny - mostly because he wouldn't dare to struggle too much and risk hurting her in any way. "Alright, alright. I get it." He took a deep breath, the smile fading as he glanced down at the herbs, the movement making his head throb harder. His stomach clenched - it would be a miracle if he could force them down at all. "You're right. I can't back out now."

I can't. If he did, he'd never be able to come back. It's just a ceremony. Walk over to the stone, touch it, get or don't get your lives, and come back again.

A part of him still whispered that he didn't deserve it, that he was the worst cat possible, but... Looking at Mossbloom and Dovefrost, he had to admit to himself that if he was, he sure had some great cats behind him who believed he wasn't. Somehow.

So he licked up the herbs, practically choking them down and doing his best not to taste them, and stood with only a minor wince. "Glah. Alright, lead the way."

Minkstream relented, and Mossbloom relaxed, a rough purr emanating from her chest. She waited patiently while he ate the herbs before stepping forward and touching her nose to his gently. "I believe in you. I'll help keep an eye on the clan, you come back safely. Both of you." She noted, looking to Dovefrost and bumping her head to his shoulder. "Now off with you, it's time for my nap. Ferretnose will be upset if I miss it again." She purred, waiting until the two of them had disappeared from sight before returning to the elder's den.

The white tom let out a small chuckle at Mossbloom's actions. "Alright, go enjoy your nap. I can't have Ferretnose being upset. Don't need her sending one of the apprentices after me." The medicine cat was finally happy to get his leader to the moonstone. Maybe Minkstream could finally see that it wasn't that bad. Well.. he only prayed that everything would go well once they reached the moonstone, but he wasn't going to let any ounce of doubt show.

"Alright let's get going Minkstream!" Dovefrost said, his tail brushing the older tom for a second to spur him into action. "The moonstone waits for no one." Shortly after the tom headed for the camp exit.

Minkstream gave a wan smile to Mossbloom. "I think we were planning to get lives, not lose them." Plans didn't always turn out right, though. Yet despite all his misgivings, all of the guilt and mistakes eating away at his insides with a voice that whispered he would never be good enough, he didn't particularly want to die by being squashed on the thunderpath.

He turned to Dovefrost as she bumped his shoulder, a slight smile playing around his maw at the exchange between them before Mossbloom left... and it was time. Taking a deep breath, he moved his paws towards the camp's entrance, twitching his whiskers in acknowledgement. Dovefrost was right: the moonstone waited for no one. Somehow, I wish it did.

But as he followed Dovefrost out, he had to admit that any action was better than letting his doubts eat him alive. I don't know what'll happen, but it's out of my paws now.

It took the normal amount of time to reach the Moonstone. Though the trip was just as exhausting as it normally was, but they didn't have anytime to waste. "Just a little longer, stick close in the tunnel." The white fluffy tom said to his leader, leading him into the dark tunnel that was Mothermouth.

As they finally reached the cavern, the Moonstone was as beautiful as always. The medicine cat couldn't get ever get over how breath taking the stone truly was. As much as he wanted to observe the moonstone right now, he would have time for that later. He had to get Minkstream on track. "Just press your nose to the stone, Starclan will meet you in your dreams." He told the other tom. Finally Thunderclan would have their rightful leader.

His stomach still twinged uneasily despite having made this decision as Dovefrost led them into the tunnels, not daring to nod as the pounding in his head threatened to throw him off-balance. Even the cold of the tunnels in the bowels of the earth didn't help much as earth and stone brushed past his whiskers.

And then the light of a thousand stars beamed out, making him wince as he stepped into its rays, the tension making knots of his insides tightening further. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly stepped forward. "Right." No jokes, no quips, just pure nervousness. Wonderful.

The glow filled his vision, stabbing his head with blades of pain, and he settled down in front of the glowing stone, clammy paws underneath him.

This was it. This was the moment of truth.

Stars....

Closing his eyes and carefully making sure not to grit his teeth, he reached forward and touched his nose to the stone. Instantly, a chill cold as ice blazed in a crackling wave through his pelt, so bright that it flashed pure white in his vision, breath for a scream sticking in his throat, pure frozen flame in his veins.

Then nothing.

Minkstream floated in darkness. A familiar sort of darkness, his consciousness bubbling in little sparks of muted light as awareness slowly bloomed. Where am I.... This was familiar... his fur being pulled gently, as though thick liquid currents stroked through his pelt.

He floated.

...What is this?

Cracking open slightly, his eyelids drifted apart to squint at a soft - yet intense - light, a faintly blurred, rustling whisper stirring his ear fur. Am I... underwater? His maw parted reflexively, gasping for air and half-expecting the cold rush of stifling liquid, his whiskers stiffening in surprise as his lungs expanded fully, the sudden intake of breath making the lights whirl in a brief moment of dizzying vertigo he had to shut his eyes against. Not... not underwater.

With a groan, he pushed paws that briefly trembled against the ground, staggering up to stand and shaking his head. What in the stars is- He stiffened, freezing mid-motion and holding his breath, waiting for a flash of pain that never appeared. ...Flash of pain? Why should there be pain? Raising a paw to his head, he squinted up at the sky - the source of that soft light from stars that glittered in breathtaking beauty, sprinkled across the black canvass above like a river of dotted moonlight. It reminded him of something, something like a stone that glittered.... The moonstone? Yes... yes, the moonstone.

The moonstone.

The ceremony.

His head. Bat. Dovefrost. Mossbloom. Agony. Exploding sparks. A freezing sensation so cold it stole his breath and plunged him into blackness yowling, clawing, the light winked out in the snap of a twig.

He blinked, heart pounding and breath rasping in his ears as he whirled, the hair rising along his spine. These dark trees that rustled in the starlight- what was this place? Is this the dark forest? Had they killed him?

No... no!

Suddenly, despite all the times he’d beaten himself up, wishing bitterly for an end to his stupidity- Stars no! Claws sprang from their sheaths to grip the luscious grass underneath him, his breathing quickening as he whipped around. Not- not now! With a sudden, overwhelming panic that flooded his soul in crackling electricity and set his heart racing, he realized that he did not want to die.

His gaze flicked desperately over the menacing shadows of branches and leaves dancing in twisted patterns all around him, paws backing away as his eyes darted for some way out, some way back, his maw parting to yowl at whoever inhabited this star-forsaken-

The soft light overhead pulsed, and his breath died in his throat as it flickered, cascading silently from the sky in swirling arcs that floated gently downwards; a glittering luminescence that sparkled down through the leaves to land softly on the ground. Involuntarily, he stumbled back from them, setting his paws and arching his back in a fighting stance as they pulsed all around - flickering forms that kindled like flame and resolved into... cats. What? Images of the Righteous Few came to life in his mind, his stance tensing further as he glanced around. Have they come to accuse me? But the eyes that met his only glimmered with amusement or seriousness, standing in unthreatening silence. An eery silence, almost.

And then the soft whisper of pawsteps on ethereal grass made his ear twitch.

Among the gathering of cats a smaller then normal starry she cat stepped forward as she would be starting off giving one of her kits their first lives as leader. She had to think about the live she would bestow on her son. "Minkstream," She mewed softly, "it’s good to see you again," She said softly.

Minkstream’s heart fluttered, the breath in his lungs suddenly gone as he slowly turned. That voice.... It couldn’t be, it wouldn’t be. His whole body clenched against the idea, against the concept of hoping that what he would see was the someone who matched that gentle tone. But it was. More beautiful than she’d been in life, his mother stepped forward, her frame smaller than he remembered it, but her blue eyes sparkling with a warmth that made his heart ache at the mere memory. She wasn’t part of the Righteous Few. ”Mum...? His voice choked; he could barely get the word out as she stepped over to him, but that smile told him everything.

She then got right to the point as she had stepped over to him her silvery tabby fur as she smiled softly. "With this life I give you the ability to make good judgement. To judge those fairly and see them for who they are within. Much like I had done when I met your father," She mewed softly and craned her neck placing her nose to his forehead for a moment before she stepped back once the life had been given. "May you use it well my son," She said softly.

He searched her face as she stepped up to him, desperately drinking in the clear vision of what imperfect memory had tarnished over the years. Then she spoke again, and he frowned, maw parting slightly in a question - Father? Wolfsong? - that never made it past his lips as she reached up and placed her nose to his forehead, the soft touch just like when he was a kit, her sweet scent drifting up his nostrils.

The snapping arc of energy that exploded through his mind wasn’t.

For a moment and an eternity his vision lit up in a brilliant white light, spine stiffening as pure explosive energy and pain consumed his entire being. He couldn’t breathe, images that didn’t belong to him roaring unbidden through his mind. His heart pounded, red blood that surged through his veins and tingled in his paws, a clarity that pierced to his soul pulsing to the tip of every hair on his pelt.

A ginger-patched white face, blue eyes sparkling with good humour, a goofy, lop-sided smile tilting his maw as he looked up from he lay on the ground. There were rough edges, a cocky attitude that grated with some, but those eyes showed more, and Minkstream’s sight pierced to the beating heart. A strong scent, yet gentle - somehow remniscent of the nursery’s walls that had surrounded him and his siblings as a kit. Love in those eyes as they lit up, pure happiness as a rumbling purr echoed through his rib cage.

And the breath of a whisper. “Strom... current. My sons and daughter, you will be incredible."

Minkstream gasped in shuddering breaths as the blinding light faded to his mother’s gentle face, her eyes wise as she smiled softly and stepped back, her voice clear even through the turmoil in his mind. A spark of panic pulled at his paws, and he stepped forward as she turned to go. ”W-wait, Mum... please-”

He couldn’t get the image of Starlord out of his mind, his heart practically bursting with questions, confusion, bewilderment. He didn’t... He wasn’t like that. He abandoned us.

...Didn’t he?

But his only reply was that soft smile; her eyes that couldn’t - wouldn’t - lie to him as she faded back into the starry ranks of the cats around him.

And a familiar scent of the river and reeds, rocks and wetlands touched his nose as another set of pawsteps drew his attention reluctantly away.

When Mottledspark had last seen his former apprentice, it had been seasons ago - before the schism in StarClan’s ranks exploded - and the ginger-and-white tom had served another Clan with aimless paws that were desperate to find belonging. The final interaction between the StarClan warrior and his surviving apprentice proved to be illuminating for the both of them despite some harsh words exchanged in the process. Apprentices’ journeys to the Moonstone often proved helpful in one way or another, but Mottledspark had never imagined what it would be like to be on the starry end of the message. His apprentice had returned to the living world with what seemed like a strengthened sense of stability, and though Mottledspark could watch freely from Silverpelt, he couldn’t help but hope they would meet again for something just like the present.

The tri-colored warrior with the scarred muzzle took a step forward, his thick RiverClan warrior frame shining with starlight entangled in his thick, spiked fur. Mottledspark’s dark amber eyes met the eyes of the living tom before him, and he smirked a crooked smile. ”Minkstream, I’m not gonna get sentimental with ya in front of all these gossipin’ queens, but I’m happy to see ya,” the tom purred in his gravelly drawl. ”It’s not what I expected, but… well, we’ll just say I’ve learned t’ stop havin’ expectations about ya and just see what you’re made of. You always surprise me.”

Minkstream’s eyes met a pair of familiar, dark amber ones. Mottledspark. An odd emotion halfway between joy at seeing his old mentor and tension deep in his gut washed over him, his maw parting before he hesitated, a slightly wary look coming into his eyes. Last time they’d met, Mottledspark had simultaneously berated him and given him the push he needed to climb out of the hole he’d dug himself into. I’m not much better than I was then. Maybe worse.

He gave the other a formal nod in greeting from apprentice to mentor, uneasiness tight in his stomach, but when he looked up the grizzled tom was giving him a crooked smirk. His words blasted away the uncertainty almost immediately, and Minkstream found himself giving a grin in return, the tension melting away. ”I try.”

Mottledspark took a deep breath, looking his former apprentice, once a half-rogue apprentice of RiverClan, over with a look of intent scrutiny. ”Minkstream of ThunderClan… I know you got a thousand thoughts runnin’ wild like a nest o’ mice, and you’re a smart tom. You always seem to see paths an’ options that other cats can’t consider. I’ve heard that kinda thing’s popular in ThunderClan.”

His former mentor’s tone changed slightly, the moment of reunion turning to seriousness, and Minkstream let his own smile fade. A thousand thoughts might be a bit of an understatement - he was still reeling from all of this, and that odd flash of her memories that Littlestream had given him. To say his brain was running wild might be akin to proclaiming that the river’s current was a bit stronger in the New-leaf floods. Nodding slightly at the tom’s assessment, he let a hint of wryness briefly lift the corner of his maw. ”Depends on who you ask, but you’re not wrong.”

Mottledspark snorted a little, smirking faintly, and continued, ”Once I knew ya when you couldn’t commit t’ the options you were given - all the paths available to ya. I’ve seen ya grow to know where you belong and to act on the choices that’ll get ya there. With this life, I give you decisiveness.”

Minkstream frowned slightly as his mentor spoke, something about this seeming a bit odd, something he couldn’t quite put his paw on. How could you give decisiveness? ”Wha-?”

He leaned forward and pressed his dark nose into Minkstream’s paler one, and an unfamiliar jolt of adrenaline and fiery stubbornness spread from the tip of the ginger tabby’s nose to the pit of his stomach and out through his limbs. ”Your new Clan can’t afford ya takin’ your time to make decisions like you were able t’ do when you were younger,” Mottledspark declared, only a faint glimmer of teasing shining through the serious expression on his face. ”You’ve got cats dependin’ on ya, and you know that now. No regrets anymore, no shufflin’ your paws - just remember lessons you’ve already learned an’ make the best choices based on what ya know now and learn from what happens.”

The rest of his question exploded in a gasp of air as his mentor’s nose touched his - similar to his apprentice ceremony. Blinding light, adrenaline and... and-

He couldn’t make a sound, his teeth gritted together so tight it felt his jaws had almost melded together, but if he could, a roar might have escaped; the fierce pounding of his heart setting his paws steady and immovable on the ground. He would not crumble. He would not bow, not even before the raging floodwaters.

He would stand firm.

Mottledspark stepped away again and the contact was broken. He felt a little tired, but mostly he felt proud as he smiled at his former apprentice. ”I’ve got faith in ya. Keep your grip.” He chuckled and merged back into the gathered starry warriors.

The contact broke, and Minkstream blinked, panting, his legs trembling. What in the stars had that been? He could barely focus for a moment, shaking his head to clear it as Mottledspark spoke. ”That might be... a little hard.”

The other chuckled, and Minkstream’s eyes focused on him as he turned to join the others, a smile tinged with melancholy touching his maw. Couldn’t they stay for just a moment? If he was dead and this was his initiation into StarClan or some kind of Moonstone journy-esque thing, couldn’t they stay just a bit longer? Did this happen to everyone who died?

His thoughts were interrupted by a movement at the corner of his vision, steady steps - yet with an odd sort of cadence - catching his eye. Wait, isn’t that- He grinned. ”Aspenheart!”

Next was a silver tabby tom, tall and gaunt, with tired seafoam eyes. Despite his bedraggled appearance, he grinned authentically. There was joy about him, and he greeted Minkstream as he might a brother. "I've been wondering all night if you'd recognize my face," he said in a high, nasally voice. "Or know my name. I don't look the same as I did in life. I don't wobble so much anymore. I look good, huh?" Aspenheart snickered at his jests.

Minkstream’s smile turned lopsided, a brief twinge touching his heart at the memory of the same expression on another’s face. ”It’s always been a little hard to forget you, Aspenheart. Even for me.”

The words brought a spark of memory. Even for him.... He’d been having trouble with remembering things lately. Strange, he could remember perfectly right now. Almost better than he’d been able to before.... Am I... really dead? The discomforting thought was shaken from his mind as Aspenheart went on.

"Aspenheart. I was WindClan's medicine cat. Before the Asylum came to enslave our forest, the nightstrikers came to conquer my clan. In our fight to drive them from our territory, I aided Finchstar however I could. Using my knowledge of medicine, I made a plan to poison freshkill and scatter it throughout the territory. Unfortunately, we had underestimated them, and the plan failed. If it's even possible... I guess they were somehow just as smart as me." His eyes glimmered coyly.

Minkstream snorted wryly in return. ”I doubt it.”

"There's a point to this story, Minkstream. Strength, power, skill... they're all nice to have. They'll all help you lead. But thinking quick on your paws can be the difference between life and death. You'll have to spar with other leaders... other clanmates... even yourself. When you go to fight that war, be ready for it. With this life, I give you wit." Minkstream's mind came to life as Aspenheart touched his nose. He buzzed with excitement and alertness, his heart picking up in a dire rhythm, timed perfectly to the acrobatic musing of his own consciousness. Aspenheart gave the new leader a wink and stepped back into the crowd.

Lead.

Something stirred at that, and Minkstream froze, his heart picking up speed. Life. Moonstone. He’d thought he was dead or... something, but- ”Wait-”

They never let him finish, did they?

His mind exploded, the tangling thoughts that had buzzed through it straightening and flickering faster, his fur tingling on end as his heartbeat picked up, clarity and alertness shooting through his veins. Mottledspark’s words suddenly made sense. Choices. Decisions. No more shuffling of paws, no more regrets. Lives. This is my leader ceremony. This is StarClan. They have chosen me....

As leader.

His eyes snapped back into focus, his breath gasping again as he sagged slightly, the maelstrom of concentrated thought slowing to something more normal but no less sharp. He barely registered Aspenheart’s wink with a slightly twitchy nod of his own in acknowledgement, unable to speak for the moment. I can... I can feel.... His whole body was almost throbbing, as though a river were flowing through his veins, pulsing with life. I’m not sure how I feel about this....

Leader. Had they actually...? They couldn’t think him worthy. They must have made a mistake somewhere. But a flicker - a spark of light - began to bloom in his chest, something that beat against the darkness that snarled in the corner of his mind with accusing eyes.

”I’ve got faith in ya.

Warmth. Strange, yet almost familiar - a little coal that glowed somewhere deep inside.

But movement came again, and he wasn’t given time to dwell on it, for another cat - just as familiar and well-remembered - stepped out of the crowd.

From the swirling, star-speckled mist, came an odd looking tom. His coat was that of a patchwork calico fur. It was obvious from the tom's frame that he bore the blood of Riverclanners but his gait was light, overly happy in a sense. Those who had known Sparkfrost in life simply knew these to be part of the strange mannerisms of the son of Jaystar and Goldeneye. That strange pelt, it told the tale of his mixed parentage. But it was a chosen family that linked the late warrior to Minkstream. Looking at the ginger leader, Sparkfrost tipped his head slightly and parted his maw in a lop-sided grin, "Well, look at you, Minky! All professional and serious like these days, aren't you?" He laughed at his own words and trotted forward to butt his head into the Thunderclan cat.

Minkstream couldn’t help the answering grin that responded to his half-brother’s, taking the headbutt and returning it with a shove of his own, a huff of laughter escaping his maw. ”Hey, nobody takes me seriously if I don’t act it.” His smile faded slightly, painful twinges of memory floating up at his own words - Kitefire, Waterlily. With a jolt, he realized he could remember her name. Too bad that it was too late....

A quiet sigh slipped free of his maw, a weight seeming to return to his paws as he drew back. No, whenever he became less serious bad things happened - those around him died and he made terrible mistakes. He couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not again.

After drawing back, Sparkfrost began to study the leader, seemingly enamored by the orange of his pelt. Several moments passed before he finally blinked. There was no denying that this was Starlord's son. A pleasant smile twitched at the edges of his expression. It was warmed his pelt to see his chosen kin so grown and stepping into a new role. Finally, he meowed once again, excitement only dropping an octive as Sparkfrost grew just a tad more serious, "You look just like Starlord, just like him... as old as I remember him too. Ha! No, he never aged, you might even look a little older, hm..." Sparkfrost paused, thoughtfully, before meeting the gaze of Minkstream, "You're going to go back with the name Minkstar. Just like him, you too will be a lord of the stars. I look forward to seeing it."

Minkstream shifted his footing. ”Spark, I... I’m not sure that I’m even worthy of this. I....”

Of course he didn’t get to finish, trailing off as the other leaned in.

Sparkfrost shook out his coat after gazing off into the distance for a moment, as if he'd seen something there, before leaning in close again, "I want to give you the life of joy. Use it well when things seem bleak and hopeless, and don't forget when things are well either." His nose touched that of Minkstream gingerly. Immediately, bolts of fire surged through the new leader, a sensation that could cause any heart to leap relentlessly. It didn't subside for sometime but spread into a pleasant warmth that settled itself into the tom's limbs. Satisfied, Sparkfrost pulled back and stared, dull green eyes sparkling, "We'll be watching you, Mink of Stars."

Minkstream felt like protesting at the other tom’s words; how could he not forget when that was exactly what he’d been doing all these moons? How could he be joyful when everything threatened to collapse around him? But he kept a troubled silence, reflexively holding his breath and bracing himself as Sparkfrost’s nose gingerly reached out to touch his.

He still couldn’t anticipate the crackle of flame that swept through his veins, his breath escaping in spite of himself. This one tingled at the same time that it burned - a relentless warmth that made him want to leap and run, as if he could soar through the skies themselves, the clouds rushing past. He found himself grinning even as he gasped for breath, the heat fading into a pleasant glow, like the quiet in the apprentice’s den after everyone had laughed until their stomachs hurt and their air was gone.

The grin faded and he shook his head slightly as Sparkfrost stared at him, his dull green eyes containing a familiar sparkle. If anyone else had said that, it might have had an ominous tone, but from the patched calico tom it held an innocent eagerness.

Joy.... Sparkfrost had given him the life of joy. Something he’d only rarely felt, it seemed - especially after Starlord died. Or had he? Moments flickered back to mind, little gems of light in a path that had seemed altogether far too dark at times. Even recently there had been little flashes, like fish scales under the surface of the river.

Maybe all this seriousness he’d taken on was doing more harm than good. Maybe he could laugh a little more, show a little more of the cheekiness he’d once held. A part of him fought against that. How could he? Every time he did, something happened; the smile was wiped off his face as his head was pushed into the mud, bleeding lines scored into his heart even as he struggled.

How can I...?

The spark of light throbbed persistently against his own doubts, seeming stronger for this new life that pulsed through his veins, and he shook his head again, looking up as someone else stepped forward....

Dappleshine stepped forward after a couple heartbeats. Starlight glistened in her long, glossy wind-swept fur, and she smiled at Minkstream kindly. "It's great to see you again, Strom. Or do you prefer Minkstream now? I'm sorry, I never expected that the next time we met would be like this... But I'm proud of you. I hope the life I have for you can offer you some aid in your continued journey."

”Dappleshine,” He breathed, straightening. This was the she-cat who had brought him out of the hole he’d fallen into, or more accurately, dug for himself. Those foxhearts in Asylum killed her and Raventail. A hint of anguish stirred at the memory of that, but her smile slowly drained it away. It was in the past; it couldn’t be changed. Asylum was dead or gone now, her own death avenged.

He smiled slightly as she spoke. ”I still own both.” Funny how despite his misgivings about his father, he still clung to the name the dead tom had given him.

He may have given it to me, but it’s my own now. A part of me, I guess.

He gave a light shake of his head - an almost ridiculous sense of pleasure at being able to use the gesture without a stab of pain thrilling through him - and held her gaze as she apologized, a hint of the twisting grief he’d felt at the news of their death shining in his eyes even as he offered a smile. I didn’t either, but we can’t do anything about that.

There wasn’t time to dwell on it, either. At her next words he felt a thrill of anticipation tingle down his spine, even as dread curled in his belly, but he planted his paws and took a deep breath. Holding her eyes, he nodded firmly, heart starting to beat faster in his chest, pounding at his rib cage. ”I’m ready.”

And... he realized distantly that he meant it. Whatever life she had to give, the pulsing warmth whispered that it would be a good one, a sentiment that agreed with the wisdom in her eyes. Maybe his heart trembled with doubt, but it was his choice. He’d take it.

Moving forward so she stood directly before the tom that had shared a clan with her before they parted ways, Dappleshine called out in a firm, unshaking voice. "With this life, I give you hope. The path before you is not an easy one, but even in the darkest times you can find light. When all hope is lost, that is when you must search within yourself and your clanmates to find the spark that will bring about a new dawn. It is a difficult task, that much is for certain, but the reward is worth the struggle."

Hope.... How many times had the weight of the world crushed his hope? Yet a deep part of him thirsted for it even as he wondered how she could possibly give him a life that would overcome the darkness that clung to his bones.

He closed his eyes as she reached forwards, a whisper of breath escaping. I’m a shell - a broken husk. Stars, if ever I wanted something....

It would be hope.

Dappleshine brought her nose to Minkstream's gently, but the despair that shot through the tom's body was instantaneous. Moons of heartbreak and dismay at losses of friends and kin gripped the tom like hawk's talons, and for a moment he was laying alone in the dark just as Dappleshine herself had for so many nights after losing the last of her kits, Dacedream. Just as the grief seemed to be too much to bear a bright light appeared through the darkness, and the sense of dread lifted as if removed from the tom's mind by countless helping paws.

Despair, darkness.

No!

Again it pierced him, the loss of everyone he loved, the loss of everything he held dear. So sharp it took his breath away, the wailing grief of slowly being left alone sucked the life from his body, darkness closing over his head so thick he couldn’t see, only tears and pain so acute it may as well have been physical bleeding from his heart.

I can’t, I can’t. The words sobbed through his mind. Not again. I can’t deal with this, I can’t live with it.

A glimmer of light as he curled around himself, a spark of something that made his eyelids crack open. A throbbing warmth, a pulsing brightness that whispered... hope. It bathed him, so bright it should have made his eyes water, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away as it lifted him, a thousand loving gazes and outstretched paws reaching down.

Hope, They whispered as they reached out, inviting him; a gentle breeze bringing the scent of home, family, friends, laughter. It took his breath away - quickened the beat of his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. Hope!

He reached out and seized them.

Dappleshine stood in front of him still, concern shining in her gaze. This was the second life she had given, and she still worried if it may have been too much. Once Minkstream had caught his breath, Dappleshine purred and touched her cheek to his. "You will encounter the darkest nights, but following them always comes the brightest mornings. Rely on your clan, and your loved ones, and they will give you what you need to see it through."

The brilliant light faded, the mudlike sucking sensation of darkness slipping away to a thousand ethereal paws pulling him out still sticking in his mind as he gasped for breath and blinked away the remnants of wetness blurring his vision. Dappleshine’s purr filled his ears, her cheek touching his damp one, and he gave a trembling smile, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he closed his eyes for a moment. A whisper from the depths of his heart. ”Thank you.”

The silver she-cat looked over her shoulder to the next cat in line before turning back to the tom. "I don't have much longer, I must pass you off to the next, but... Please tell Batbite I said hello. I hope she still remembers how to swim." With a final grin, she turned and made her way back into the crowd, blending in with the other starry figures to wait out the rest of the ceremony.

Minkstream slowly grinned in return, the expression feeling suddenly so much more genuine, so much lighter than it ever had before. ”Oh, she does. She’s almost faster than me now.”

This time, he didn’t wish she could stay as she turned and took her place back among the crowd. A strange sensation, but there was a peace that clung to him, one that simply seeing her here had brought to life, and that life.... Hope. The smile softened with a tinge of melancholy, but stayed with him as he looked around. The voice of someone he’d just been thinking about greeted him a moment before he spotted his dark, fluffy pelt. ”Raventail! I was wondering if we’d ever catch up again.”

“You know, this really wasn’t the kind of reunion I was hoping for.” Raventail emerged from the sea of cats, his smile a tinge more bittersweet than usual. “Though I guess this means I finally get to say it—I’m glad you and Bat made it home. I mean...I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t had a barn to run to. Which reminds me...” His fluffy tail swayed behind him as he sat in front of Minkstream, mismatched forepaws pressed together. “I should probably tell you why I was there in the first place.”

One corner of Minkstream’s smile tilted up slightly more than the other as Raventail mentioned him and Bat making it home. Home... yes, home. It truly was. ”So am I,” He said softly, before giving the other a curious look at that last. Why the deputy of WindClan had ended up there was a point he had found himself wondering about from time to time.

“Back then, I thought I had to handle everything by myself. I tried so hard to be some perfect deputy instead of plain old Raventail, and left when I realized I couldn’t. But WindClan wasn’t expecting a perfect deputy. They were just expecting me. The same way ThunderClan’s just expecting you.”

Minkstream nodded, his heart tightening. I did the same thing. Over and over. He’d tried so hard to be what he thought he should be, and it had brought him crashing through the ice into dark, swirling depths. It had almost destroyed him. I ran... from what would help me most. I avoided those who would have helped me. I didn’t want to be me. In a lot of ways, he still didn’t.

Because he was a broken shell, a mess that crumbled everything he touched.

But then... wasn’t everybody? No cat could ever be perfect....

Unfurling his tail, Raventail stood. “What I’m saying is, no leader does everything alone. There are so many cats who want to help you—and with this life,” he pressed his nose to Minkstream’s forehead, “I give you the trust to let them.”

Though his death had been brutal, it had also been short; the life he passed on was the same. A flood of fear and desperation too thick to breathe through, claws tearing at him and Minkstream alike—then peaceful silence.

Minkstream braced himself, determination setting his paws as he opened himself to the life, and-

Pain.

He had to do this alone, he couldn’t drag anyone else into it. Stars, he couldn’t breathe. Absolute desperation, no one to turn to, no one to hear as claws ripped his pelt in two with an agonized cry.

And then nothing. Peace. Pelts that pressed gently against his own, bodies that stood firm on either side. No, not alone, even though claws had just stolen his own life from him - ripping him into a thousand pieces - he was held together, supported.

Not alone.

He sucked in desperate breaths as he came back to himself, legs trembling under the strain. Even... even Raventail looked shaken by the whole thing as Minkstream fought to keep his paws pressing firmly against the ground. Thank StarClan... that was... short. The warm glow pulsing beneath his pelt was starting to feel more like a raging flood of flame and lightning, one that would burst free if he took much more.

Shaken, Raventail stepped back. He’d been on both sides of this exchange by now, but it wasn’t the sort of thing a cat could just get used to. He shook out his starlit pelt, and after a heartbeat, the smile settled back into place. “Good luck. If you need us, well, we’re all just a walk to Highstones away.” A tail-length from the other StarClanners, he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and tell Batbite I said hi, all right? I owe you both a rabbit someday—hopefully not soon,” he hurried to add, “but someday.”

As Minkstream’s breathing evened again, the roaring sensation eased slightly, and he managed a smile in return as the other went to rejoin his Clanmates. He never had managed to catch a rabbit, nor taste one until Raven himself came to the barn. ”I think I’d like that.”

As Raventail melted into the crowd, a broad-shouldered tom moved forward. A flicker of recognition crossed his face: intruder. Yet the hostility that had once accompanied it was absent. A living cat, especially a leader, couldn’t be called a trespasser when Silverpelt invited them in—and besides, Strom had found his own borders to defend. For a moment, Lightfang simply stood and sized up the leader-to-be, wondering if the recognition was mutual. He looked younger than he’d been when they’d met, held his head higher; the nick in his ear and the glimmering scars on his throat were the only things that hadn’t changed. But he was nothing if not dutiful, and his role here allowed no room for questions.

Minkstream found himself tensing slightly as the next cat stepped from the crowd, a flash of recognition lighting his eyes. His... brother. His jaw tightened slightly as he eyed the other back, the end of his tail twitching slightly. Lightfang. Another of Starlord’s sons, and a reminder of why Minkstream had fought so hard to forget about the ginger-patched tom.

Yet... neither of them could be blamed for their heritage. He didn’t speak, instead letting the tension leak from his frame and giving the other a brief nod in respect.

“I wasted my life on running. From my parents, from my birth Clan, and then from the Clan kind enough to take me in. It killed me in the end.” Though distance and his family’s company were helping the wounds heal, Lightfang’s voice fell just short of steadiness. He braced his paws against the dirt as he continued. “And I was only a warrior. A Clan’s leader can’t afford to back down or give in, no matter what they face.” Standing one’s ground was just as dangerous—but the bravest cats, the Finchstars, the Burningwolfs, met death on their own terms. After the end, that made all the difference.

As Minkstream met his half-brother’s gaze, he was struck by the familiarity of his expression. He hurt you too, didn’t he. His legacy, and how everyone else treated it. In that, they had more than just parentage in common. The sons of Starlord ran, and fell, and dragged themselves by ragged, bloody claws until they either fell still or stumbled back onto their feet.

I know you.

Lightfang brought his nose up to Strom’s forehead. “With this life, I give you resilience. When hardship finds you, may you dig your claws in and never let go.” That said, he closed his eyes. The life began to leach out of him and into Strom: the dragging ache of starvation, exhaustion, the prickling of fur freezing into tiny peaks.

Minkstream braced himself for an intense flash as Lightfang touched his forehead, unconsciously digging his claws into the grass beneath, but for a moment there was nothing. And then an aching cold slowly spread over his pelt, desperate agony gnawing at his belly and exhaustion dragging at every muscle. His heartbeat slowed, the feeling of cold wind deadened against his skin as the world blurred, colours mixing together. The feeling of earth grinding against his cheek a distant jolt, the sky dimming as his breath rasped lethargically in his lungs.

It would be so... much... easier just to... lie.... lie down.

But a faint fire burned in his chest, a flame that wouldn’t let him give in. This was death, but it wasn’t the end. His teeth gritted, his eyes forcing themselves open, his numb body struggling to push back up.

I. Will. Not. Stay. Down.

With a sharp intake of breath, he snapped out of it, for once not panting as if he’d just run a hundred tree-lengths. Shifting on his feet - still standing despite the vision in his mind - as if to make sure his legs were working properly again, he shook his head, glancing back at Lightfang and returning his nod with one of his own as he met his eyes. The eyes of his brother.

I might fall, but I’ll get back up again. As many times as it takes. The thought daunted him, the trembling whisper that he wasn’t strong enough curling on the edge of consciousness, but the pulsing beat of his heart defied its voice. If his estranged half-brother didn’t think he was capable of carrying this life, he wouldn’t have given it. There was a steadiness to that, an assurance. I’ll carry it as well as I know how.

Suddenly, it was over. There was nothing more to say. With a dip of his head, the respect almost any stars-chosen cat deserved, Lightfang drifted back to the cluster of StarClanners, making way for the next.

As the previous cat disappeared, another was there to take his place. From out of the shadows, a mottled tom stepped, dark, river-blue eyes shining with a troubled light. Jaydream dipped his head to Minkstream in greeting, appearing far more wise than his brief moons of life had allowed him to grow. "To do this again, and so soon," he murmured, observing the leader-to-be. "It seemed only a moon ago."

Instant recognition flooded Minkstream as the next cat came forward - the son of Dace - and with it a stab of emotion. You shouldn’t have died. Not to her. It was both a relief to see him here, whole and brighter than he’d been in life without any of the disfiguring marks his corpse had borne, and... distressing. We should have done more. I should have known she’d try something. Should have voted for her death, not her exile.... But no hint of accusation or condemnation dwelt in the other’s troubled expression, and with a jolt, another bloodstained body flashed into his memory, one with long silver fur.

”Nettlestar.... You gave her a life,” He murmured, meeting the other’s gaze.

Jaydream moved just past Minkstream, half-circling him before coming to a halt. "ThunderClan is tumultuous at current, but their choice in leader was a wise one."

”Some would argue with that.” Minkstream let his eyes drift away as the tom half-circled him, reluctantly turning to face him after a moment, his paws and frame oddly steady despite the heavy rock that had inadvertently settled into his belly. Some part of him still didn’t believe that. It almost felt as if he was being torn in two between this warmth that pulsed in his chest and this twisting doubt that clenched his belly. Jaydream didn’t seem fazed by the words he’d just spoken, though.

He sat down, four paws neatly together, the ghost of a smile playing at his maw. "You are a cat of consequence, Minkstream, though I see doubt in your eyes. You worry about your past... about your origins... and of poor decisions you've made in the past." The tom took in a deep breath and exhaled, leaning in to brush his nose across Minkstream's. "With this life, I give you mercy. It takes a strong leader to fight, to kill, for his clan... but oftentimes it takes a stronger one not to. Your past does not define you, Minkstream... nor does any other cat's past completely define them. When you choose mercy where others would choose violence, or cruelty, you will be giving other cats the same opportunity that Oakstar gave you - to prove themselves despite their history. Remember that, honor it, and you will do fine."

Minkstream stood silently as Jaydream spoke, not denying his words. They were true, after all. ”I’ve made so many mistakes. I was born one,” He whispered.

He raised his eyes as the other exhaled and moved forward to touch his nose, and was struck by the wisdom in the tom’s blue gaze even as he unconsciously tensed, the surging river under his pelt leaping eagerly in anticipation. It met the contact with an almost audible ring, a pure note that flashed through his mind, trembled in his ears, throbbed in the staccato rhythm of his heart.

He held it in his paws, the pulsing life of another - fierce blue eyes that blazed hatred. One slip of his claws and red would flood the stones beneath. One simple movement would end it forever. No more pain. He would do it to stop this. His teeth gritted, eyes hardening, but the intention faltered and screeched to a frozen stop as the snarling form morphed before his eyes. A kit - a little, blind form that mewled and squeaked at paws that were stained red. So delicate. Hesitation stayed him, a squeeze of his heart, a flutter of pity.

No.

Claws sheathed, and he cradled it gently. No. Winning the battle, stopping the monster that would come... it wasn’t worth it. Not if it meant snuffing this trembling life out.

Minkstream blinked away the remnants of dazzling light, the pure note fading to join the torrent surging through his veins with a soft flame, and he groaned faintly through gritted teeth, forcing trembling muscles to hold firm. The same opportunity.... Oakstar’s mercy had brought him in, had given him the chance to prove himself.

Mercy. Give yourself and others the same chance. You don’t have to keep holding these claws at your throat. The words seemed to echo and overlap in a soft murmur, far gentler than any thought he’d ever directed at himself.

He felt like his skin was going to burst.

Minkstream shook his head to clear it as Jaydream rose to his paws, maw parting slightly to catch the other before he left, words that stuck in his throat fading as the tom hesitated, almost looking as if he had something of his own to say. ”Jaydream?”

Jaydream rose to his paws again, and turned to leave, but then he hesitated, tail raising slightly. He looked over his shoulder, opened his mouth to say something, and then hesitated again. "A cat's parents, the part of them they never had a choice in, are often used as a marker of that cat's potential. This can be true, sometimes... but other times..." his eyes softened, he nodded gently a few times, and then he turned and disappeared into the starry mist.

Those words struck him, and Minkstream stood there... silently. His had been a mixed heritage, a blend of something good and something.... That image of his father’s face, eyes sparkling with humour, came back again. I don’t know any more. All I do know is... I put too much stock in it. I always did. Even when he’d turned his back on his heritage and stubbornly declared that he wouldn’t let it define him anymore, it had still haunted him.

“But other times...”

He lifted his eyes to the crowd of StarClanners illuminating the trees, an odd sense of peace in his ribcage at direct contrast to the troubled tinge of his thoughts. The next cat to come forward would be the last, wouldn’t they? A stir ran through the cats gathered, and he took a deep breath, pulling himself up one last time and distantly wondering how he could handle another of these lives squeezing into the space under his pelt, something that now felt far too tight to hold the energy roiling beneath it.

This was it.

Silver lined the darkness around several feline shapes. Their figures spread out before a single cat. A young tom, whose pelt glowed a vibrant red compared to the soft star-touched pelts of the other cats. It was a sight that Oakheart had watched from afar only once before. One he had hoped not to see for a long while. The sight of his daughter in the mists of the stars had felt like claws in his chest. There was still so much life for her to live… but she had died a noble death. Lived through a pain he could never imagine. The fracturing of the clans, something he could only watch with a sunken terror in his bones. Sometimes he wondered if he had still been alive… if he could have stopped any of it. No. Though it was a cold and brutal word, it was honest. He had been old when he died, and even his lives could not change the wear of so many years on the physical body. The young tom before them just faced the latest challenging time of his life… but there would be more to follow. The forest wasn’t destined for peace. Not with five clans, a code, loners and twolegs around. The volatile mix was something none could control. He nodded when Jaydream passed him, then stood. Large dark body lightened by the stars’ glow on his pelt while he strode forward with large, confident strides. His fur no longer ragged, no limp in his gait, or scar. The cat which padded to Minkstream stopped only a pawstep away. Loomed over the younger tom for a moment, amber eyes grave.

Minkstream’s breath hitched, and he straightened for a different reason as a large, dark-pelted tom came before him. It had been moons, and the last time he’d seen him the older tom was a shell of the powerful leader who had welcomed him in, but Minkstream couldn’t forget as he met eyes that held his own gravely.

Then softened. The white of his muzzle extended with his smile, shoulders relaxed in the familiar way he kept with his clan… his family. "Minkstream… you have come far." Oakheart’s voice was soft, with the rumble of a purr at the edge. "Very far from the young tom who came to ThunderClan in search of a home with Batbite."

The stoic tom’s smile warmed the serious look in his eyes, and Minkstream found himself smiling back, a tinge of melancholy touching the expression as Oakstar spoke. ”It’s good to see to see you again, Oakstar.” Genuine warmth filled his voice as he dipped his head in respect. ”Yeah.... I have, haven’t I?” A smile tugged at his maw for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. He’d come broken, despairing, ready to be thrown out.

Instead he’d found acceptance. And... hope.

Oakheart remembered that day. When the black she-cat returned from her adventures, with the tom in tow. "Back then I had only hope for the cat you could become. I am proud of how you’ve shown your loyalty, bravery and commitment to ThunderClan." Oakheart lifted his head. Gaze and expression soft, though concern showed more clearly. "I wish I could tell you it gets easier from here… but that is not so. The road before you is longer yet, and you have to take great care.”

Minkstream found himself standing taller as his leader spoke. From friends and family he couldn’t quite accept those words, couldn’t quite believe that they weren’t just spoken to avoid hurting his feelings, but from Oakstar they couldn’t be anything but genuine. Anything but true. He couldn’t have missed the times Minkstream had fallen, the times he’d curled up and threatened to let the weight of despair crush him.

Yet somehow... he still genuinely thought that.

I’m not a failure.

His throat tightened, an inexplicable blur distorting his vision for a moment before he blinked it away. ”It can’t be any worse than what I’ve left behind.”

He knew what was to come, and this time he didn’t tense or brace himself, keeping his eyes open and fixed on Oakstar’s. This... was right. And he was ready.

Oakheart stepped forward, amber eyes filled with emotion which surged through him when their noses touched. For a moment, he was a lost apprentice once again. Helpless. Surrounded by strange twoleg smells and things. The bars of a cage which lay haphazardly broken on the floor, shouts of the creatures while they attempted to grab him. A single star shone in the sky, heralding the coming of night.
Then there was agony. The rending bite of a dog, a terror of the helpless loss which consumed him. A strange soft pain… and a glimmer through a window. The same one he leapt out of that fateful night when he could move again. The one that led him to Coyotefang. Led him to ShadowClan… then home. The warm embrace of comfort with Dustcloud when they watched the stars. Like the starlight itself was enough to warm his pelt despite even the most bitter cold. The safety those same stars promised, through every hard time. Every difficult decision, every sinking feeling. They were always in the sky, ever faithful watchers. StarClan would always watch over the living. Would always be there. Even when a cat turned its back. "With this life, I give you Faith." Oakheart’s voice rumbled, deep and rich. "No matter where you are, how far you go… StarClan will always be there. Even when the sun outshines us, or you cannot reach the moonstone, our vigil is eternal. May you always remember it. So that even in the darkest hours, you know that you are never alone." He pulled back. Gaze solemn, but filled with compassion for the young tom before him. "You will lead ThunderClan well, Minkstar."

The intensity gripped him, surged through his pelt from nose to tail-tip with an iron bite as Oakstar’s life flashed through his eyes. Pure agony that somehow bloomed with an overwhelming peace and trust, far more than he could ever drink in. Gasping, trembling, Minkstream fell, an agonized cry that never made it past his lips reverberating in his chest, pure light burning every cell in his body, glowing in every pore and leaking between squeezed eyelids.

Oakstar’s words echoed through his mind, knitting from his first life to this last in a glitter of stars, the whirling roar of blood rushing through his ears not enough to drown it out.

Faith.

Trust in ancestors he’d always believed he could never live up to, who seemed to look down on him with disgust in their eyes. Faith in an entity he had turned his back on.

Never alone.

Shuddering breaths wracked his ribs as he raised his head, moisture leaking from the edges of his eyes as they opened to look up into the other tom’s solemn gaze, his words spoken both a promise and an ultimatum as the swirling surge settled and bound to him, fitting like a new pelt.

Minkstar. The name echoed from the clearing to the sky above, sung by a thousand voices to agree with Oakstar’s words in a chant louder and grander than any warrior ceremony.

Minkstar rose to his paws, his eyes glowing as he met the other’s gaze, his heart beating a rhythm that somehow seemed new, stronger. Minkstar.

It fit.

The corner of his maw turned up in a lop-sided smile, and he took in a deep breath, giving him a nod. One that felt firm, unyielding. No matter what came, he had the authority of the stars behind him, now. It wouldn’t be easy, but then... it never had been. ”I will.”

A smile, and the starry hosts faded. Minkstar took another breath, closing his eyes and preparing for the dimness of the cavern holding the moonstone to return.

Yet the rustling of leaves swaying gently in the breeze still met his ears. Frowning, he opened them again, glancing around to see himself still in the clearing, even though the hosts of StarClan had left. Is there something I’m missing? As he turned, glancing around, a glowing pelt caught his eye.

Not everyone had left.

A she-cat padded towards him, her paws silent as she approached, sky-blue eyes lit with the glow of the stars, her pale pelt blending with those that sparkled in her fur. “Greetings, Minkstar. I’m afraid it isn’t quite time for you to leave just yet,” Her soft voice said as she came to a stop in front of him, its tone somehow resonant yet gentle.

He narrowed his eyes. Something about her seemed familiar, but for the moment that faded behind confusion. Hadn’t he already been given nine lives?

She seemed to see the question in his eyes, a slight smile touching her maw as her head cocked. “No, I haven’t come to give you a life, but rather something slightly different.”

”Who are you?”

“I am Swansong.” She dipped her head, her tail swishing gently behind, the trees almost seeming to echo her name with the whisper of their leaves. “I was a warrior of SkyClan, betrayed and killed by one of my Clanmates who chose to join the Asylum, and one of the few from my Clan who fought in the Battle of the Stars.”

A flash of recognition lit Minkstar’s eyes, and he studied her face thoughtfully. ”You were one of the cats who spoke up against the Righteous Few.”

”Yes. Yes, I was.” A tinge of sadness passed over her expression.

The end of his tail flicked. ”Are you just here to talk?”

She shook her head. ”No, I am here...” She reached a paw forward, tapping his forehead gently with it as he forced himself to stay still ”...because of this.”

He stiffened as a sudden ache bloomed in the back of his mind, a hint of something not right suddenly shooting through his mind and briefly scrambling his thoughts. Something he knew all too well, a flash of panic darting through him as he flinched back.

”Yes, the injury you sustained in your fight against Asylum is still there,” Swansong said, her eyes steady on his as she brought her paw back down. ”One that can’t be seen, and affects even your thoughts.”

A slight shudder worked its way down Minkstar’s spine as the memory of pain that clung to him came back unwanted. But she said she was here because of it. He eyed her, a flicker of hope that he automatically tried to quash blooming to life in his chest. No, we’re past that. StarClan has accepted me, thought me worthy. I can have a little faith that she isn’t here just to prance around and taunt me with my disability. Besides, Dovefrost had said something about the possibility that StarClan could heal his head where the medicine cat himself couldn’t. ”Are you going to heal me?”

She didn’t reply immediately, her head cocking slightly as she seemed to weigh her words, and he felt a tinge of caution pull back the hope again. ”Yes, and no. I’m here to give you a choice, as every path you take has its cost, and miracles take power to achieve.”

He frowned, feeling the end of his tail twitch, but kept silent as she took in a breath and drew herself up. Though she was around half a head shorter than him, suddenly she seemed to grow taller, her eyes light-blue pools filled with wisdom and sympathy. ”The stars have chosen to give you an opportunity. You can go back to your Clan with an injury that affects your mind and body, yet nine lives of our authority, or with the blessing of StarClan to heal what ails you, and only eight.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, something about her tone making him hesitate. Any sane cat would pick the healing - he would choose eight lives with the ability to think again without migrains and forgetfulness over having nine lives of misery that risked dumping him back into despair. He’d have enough problems without that to mix things up. Yet.... ”There’s a catch, isn’t there.”

She nodded slightly, a hint of regret in her eyes. ”Although your headaches will be gone, and most of the problems with your ability to think, your memory will still be affected. You won’t be able to remember things as clearly as you used to, or do right now. It will gradually get better - though I must warn you it will never be the same - but initially you will still have some of the same problems that plagued you.” Her eyes almost seemed to see straight through him, boring into his soul and seeing the tremble of dread there. ”Your Clanmates will be there to help you through this, and your family to understand. Things will not be easy, but you must trust that we are all for you, and not against you. There will be enemies who will try to take advantage of you, cats who will sneer, but you will have to stand resilient, whichever you choose. And you will have to trust.” Her eyes held his, demanding that he not look away. ”You must remember these lives we have given you, the gifts that are part of ourselves and what we meant to you, no matter what you choose.”

He gave a slight nod, his paws and gaze firm. If she expected him to run now that he was told everything wouldn’t be quite as perfect as he’d like it to be, then she was wrong. His doubts were gone, his hope was kindled; he wouldn’t back down. ”I’ve come too far to get back to shore,” He said simply.

She searched his eyes for a moment and then smiled, two pinpricks of swirling stars gathering near her to dance in the air. ”Then which will you choose, son of Starlord and Littlestream, mate of Batbite, father of your kits, and leader of ThunderClan: to step away with what some will regard as the full authority of StarClan, or one fewer and a clearer mind?”

He barely had to think about it, his eyes flicking briefly to the starry points before coming back to her gaze. ”I’ll go with eight.”

”Then eight it shall be.” She stepped forward, and he braced himself, dimly wondering what it would feel like to have a life ripped away instead of given - probably agony. Sure enough, her nose - ice-cold as the moonstone - touched his, and he felt the air sucked from his lungs, a ripping sensation tearing at him from the end of his tail to his head with rending claws.

And then warmth. An odd warmth, like floating in the darkness of his mother’s belly. It swirled with a rush of blood through his head, leaving him dizzy and wiping away a faint buzzing pressure he hadn’t noticed was there until it faded. His eyes flickered open again to see Swansong step back and smile at him, his heart thudding in his ears and his breath coming in bursts between gritted teeth. ”Take note, Minkstar, that your greatest weapon against those who will try to tear you down will be your honesty. Never give in to the tempation to lie to those who trust you, or to hide who you are, for those who love you will stand by your side if you refuse to push them away.”

He let himself catch his breath for a moment, shaking his head slightly. Seemed he got a lecture even when they were taking a life from him, not giving it. But there was wisdom in her words, and he wouldn’t discount it out of paw. ”Is... is that it?”

She nodded, the stars cascading around her paws starting to wink out as she began to fade. “Though there is one last thing you need to see before you wake.” Her nod gestured over his shoulder, and he turned, wondering what in the stars was going to happen now.

His breath caught in his throat as he spotted a little gathering of StarClanners at the edge of the clearing, his mother’s eyes shining softly as she smiled at him. But she wasn’t alone. Sorely missed faces grinned at him in greeting - his siblings, long-dead, and.... A lump caught in his throat as innocent, wide eyes met his from their paws. The eyes of kits who had never had the chance to grow.

His sight blurred, and he opened his mouth to say something as he stepped towards them, but a gently shaking head stopped him, understanding eyes smiling. The message behind it both warmed his bones and squeezed at his heart as the world around him began to fade. We’re here for you, and will wait for your return. Never forget that we love you, Strom.

Now go, and be the leader you were destined to be.

Darkness pulled over him softly, their eyes the last thing to fade, and the scent of cold earth and stone twitched at his nose, a distant plinking catching his ear.

His eyelids cracked open, the feeling of his lungs expanding and his heart beating in his chest oddly real as he shifted and raised his head. The glow of the moonstone had faded, only a faint glimmer of starlight deep in its clear depths. Another scent touched his nose, and he glanced around, shaking his head slightly and stretching his limbs as he sought out a white pelt. Everything felt different - clearer. He couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips as he stood, no twinge of pain colouring the movement.

He was leader of ThunderClan, now. It was time for him to take that back to his Clan and lead.

”Dovefrost? You awake?”


Special thanks to all the RPers who wrote their cats for this! Couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Littlestream - Shadowbat
Mottledspark - Sumashira
Aspenheart - Grizzly
Sparkfrost - Ripped
Dappleshine - Mosspelt
Raventail and Lightfang - Rhindon
Jaydream - JJ
Oakheart - Cays
Swansong - me