Beechpaw's Moonstone Journey

This was strange to Muddythorn, the idea of taking his old mentor to the moonstone as if she were a normal apprentices. But then, it wouldn't be like normal, as the pair had done this exact journey together many times, and Beechpaw knew her way are highstones better than he himself did. Still. It felt strange. "C'mon Beech, let's get going. The sooner we leave, the sooner you can be back." It also seemed a bit pointless, but he decided it was for the sake of tradition. Not only had the she-cat spoken to Starclan on multiple occasions already, but also carried a deep resentment for them from her days as a medicine cat. There was no need to explain anything, so they quickly set off out of camp, the familiarity of it almost comforting to Muddythorn.

---

Although they made conversation as they walked, Muddythorn couldn't help but sense how little Beechpaw wanted to be there. Any cat with half a braincell would be able to. He had to stop himself before giving the usual hold-onto-my-tail speech at the entrance to the cavern, and instead murmured, "Beechpaw, I just want you to know how happy I am for you. This is what you wanted, and you wear it well. Yeah... just. That's it..." He trailed off, and instead just padded into the tunnel, automatically taking the lead.

Beechpaw lifted her head as Muddythorn ducked his head into the apprentice den. She hadn't managed to kick the habit of waking early, and knowing that she'd be going to the moonstone... Who needed sleep, anyways?

Well this was certainly strange... Muddythorn had been her apprentice, previously she'd been the one leading him here. "Let's go." She wasn't going to mention the awkwardness, but it lingered in the air around them, anyone who was awake and looking at the two would notice. She downed the traveling herbs quickly, finding that she hadn't exactly missed taking them, though the bitter taste went hardly noticed by the she-cat. She padded after Muddythorn swiftly, eager to get this over with.

---

"You've done well, Muddythorn. I don't think you need my guidance anymore, but like I said... If you need to come to me for help, I'll do what I can." She responded simply, "I know this has been... awkward. I'm just glad it's the last time I have to drag myself out here." Her whiskers twitched, and she hurried into the tunnel after them, the pair making quick work of the familiar path down to the moonstone.

With a sigh, Beechpaw lightly brushed her tail against her former apprentice's flank, then settled at the base of the moonstone. She lay awake for some time, sleep proving to be elusive as it always was. She wasn't sure she'd speak with Starclan today, and if not... That was perfectly fine. They'd never had a thing to offer her, anyways.

She wasn't sure when she actually fell asleep, but her eyes cracked open to see starry landscape around her. Beechpaw's tail lashed, lip curling. No cat was before her, probably making her wait on purpose. No, she decided, she hadn't missed this at all. Would tonight's dream just be more of the same judgement and unwanted foxdung? Probably. Could she will herself into waking up and avoid it altogether? That would be nice. Beechface closed her eyes again, setting her head back on her paws.

Nothing.

Foxdung.

A growl of annoyance started in her throat, tail lashing once again with impatience as no Starclanner appeared before her. Show yourself so we can get this over with. They watched, she knew they were watching.

And as usual, they proved to be a waste of everyone's time.

"Well aren't you a sore sight for eyes." Came the dry rumbling of a disembodied voice. As requested, Starclan appeared before the former medicine cat. It was reminiscent of Skyclan territory, but not the usual thin, skyward-stretching trees, the cracked and rough earth comprised of biting stone. Here is was beautiful, shimmering with an ethereal glow, yet still possessed the spirit of its mortal reflection. One could almost feel the discomfort prickling there pads with just the sight before them. There was a reason most Skyclan cats stuck to trees - the soft grass of Thunderclan's territory was a mere myth to those who were born in the tree-dwelling clan, save for sparse patches of foliage.

From behind a particularly ugly boulder slunk the small frame of a cat. Despite being less than half of Beechpaw's size, she carried herself with the demeanor of one thrice as tall. Her short, grey tabby pelt was covered in various scars. Her pelt had never been impressive and now it had become little more than a canvas to showcase the many nightmarish things she had lived through. Perhaps she and Beechpaw weren't so different. Whiskers twitched, a tad amused at her own thought. The she-cat settled a fair distanced away on her hindquarters and fixed her piercing yellow gaze on the overgrown apprentice.

"So what are you supposed to be? Not quite a medicine cat, not quite a warrior? I'm not even entirely sure you're a cat now that I've got a good look at you."

Beechpaw didn't jump at the sound of a voice, though her fur lifted and her lip curled seemingly without thought. Her eye swept over the scarred she cat that stepped from behind a boulder, an unimpressed snort escaping her. Now that she was here, they could get this over with.

"You're one to talk, not that I'd expect anything more from the dead." How typical of a Starclanner this one seemed to be. "Go ahead, mock me for your own failings." She didn't much care who had or hadn't sent that lightning bolt, they were all equally to blame.

"Do you all turn into judgemental snakes upon death?" She asked, "Maybe not seeing someone relevant was a blessing?" Relevant to her, at least. She had no recollection of the scarred cat before her, and Beechpaw didn't care to walk away from this having gained one. "At least I can say I follow my convictions. Unlike any of you "

Wolffang's whiskers twitched in amusement at the first remark but the expression across her maw remained neutral and her eyes were filled with steel. Her claws dug into the ethereal earth as if the imagery of rock was a soft mud. Muscles tensed and fur bristling, the she-cat glared after her visitor, "Our own failings? No cat moves your paws for you and it would do you good to remember that, Beechpaw. Your mistakes are you own. It's the one thing no cat can ever take from you." The Starclan cat spat, in what would likely be considered uncharacteristic for the gentle, wisdom filled meetings most cats had with their ancestors.

At some point, Wolffang and risen to her paws, closing the distance between them. She looked up at Beechpaw for a second, the fur down her spine spiked up like a porcupine. It didn't quite settled but she huffed and pulled back slightly. There had been many cats like Beechpaw before, foolish and down-brained. There was a certain irony that Beechpaw did not understand how similar their tangled and mangled pasts were - almost as cruel and ugly as their pelts. Some parts self-inflicted, others a matter of mere unfortunate circumstances. Should they ever come to some understanding, the pair would have lots to talk about. But the most unfortunate thing... they shared similar personalities.

Although Wolffang had opted to not snap directly in the apprentice's face, her tongue was still laced with venomous and a snort broke from her maw, "I'm more relevant than you could ever realize. I know what it's like to walk around like a lumbering badger, snarling at everything, blaming others for the thorn you stepped on. If it weren't for our size different, and the fact I managed to keep both my eyes, I'd almost swear we were the same cat. At least I know where I sit, it's the only reason I'm here. You speak of convictions? Sure, kit, I'd love to see them. I'd love to see anything other than an overgrown apprentice constantly whining about how Starclan ruined their life. Unless that is what you call a conviction."

Beechpaw's tail lashed as the Starclanner spoke. In typical Starclanner fashion, she seemed to have her head stuck up her behind. "You all watch and do nothing when a kit is murdered. You did nothing for moons, despite having the power to do something. The only time you interfere is to cause drama and misery. You can't even keep your wrath contained to the cats who cause it, and instead make everyone else suffer for it instead." Beechpaw growled at the she-cat, staring down at her unflinchingly. "Tell me again about your convictions. Because you have none. You don't protect or care for anything but your own ranks."

"You're blind if you can't see it. Do you wonder why cats turn away from you? Judgmental, preachy pricks like you are why."

"You think I like to watch the forest suffer? I'm sure you know what it is like to sit helplessly by while the innocent suffer. My paws didn't touch the earth when Featherkit was murdered, but you can guarantee if they did, I would have slit that bastard's throat in an instant. And what about you, Beechpaw? A killer before you and all you manage to do is chat? If we're going to discuss righteousness, I suggest you try a little harder." Wolffang's teeth bared as snarled up at the former medicine cat, eyes alight once again. She could hardly think about offering the same kindness to this she-cat as she did for naïve young apprentices. This cat had already lived an entire life and managed to keep her head stuffed with rocks.

"Starclan doesn't have unyielding power. This place, this paradise, it is condemning for the cats who sit and watch what unfolds in the forest. You think I'm satisfied with sitting by and offering 'guidance' to cats who hardly care to listen? We've never been able to choose your path. Stop blaming other cat's for your short comings and get your head out from under your tail. It's very unbecoming, medicine cat." She sneered, conjuring up the she-cat's old title. It was true that Beechpaw had stepped away from the life of a healer, moved to a new den. But such things couldn't change one's past and it would always be a part of the Skyclanner, no matter how much she tried to move past or deny it.

"You can't change the scars on your pelt, or your past. Part of you will always be a medicine cat. And I'll tell you... I've tried to kill a medicine cat before. I have no issue with trying it again if I have to. Figure yourself out and stop crying that Starclan ruined your life. You did that."

"Don't pretend Starclan is powerless. The righteous few could strike down leaders and anyone they hated, but you can do nothing about a kit-murdering monster that has no problem killing anyone who crosses his path? Someone who actually deserves to die?" She growled, "You do nothing to help the living because you don't want to. And you talk about me blaming others? As if you aren't even more hypocritical? You don't care if the forest suffers, you don't give a rat's tail about any of the living. You'd all watch the forest burn if you could rule over what was left without ever being called on your cruel foxdung, wouldn't you?"

"You have no idea of the sacrifice and the struggle to keep beloved clanmates alive, you mangy vixenheart." Medicine cat. Oh, how she hated the reminder, especially from this piece of work. "I'd never offer empty platitudes to those who were suffering. You could have stayed completely silent during Asylum's reign of terror and it would've had the same effect for all that was lost."

"Try again, your lightning didn't work the first time. I know that must've been hard for you." Beechpaw snarled, claws unsheathing.

"My lightening? Oh no, no, kit, you don't get it. If I want something done. I use my own claws." Wolffang was low, menacing. She'd become oddly quiet in a contrast to the snappiness of her voice from earlier. It was somehow a more deadly threat then the near yowling from moments earlier. Her own claws had become silently unsheathed. There was the briefest pause, a light reprieve from their vicious discussion. And then, Wolffang's star-gleaming claws darted forward with astounding speed, landing squarely at the side of the she-cat damaged face.

"I won't deny being a vixenheart. I won't deny that I don't deserve to reside among the stars. I won't ignore the damage I've created with my own paws. All my kits suffered because of the cat I was. My scars are a reminder of the path I walked. Watching the unjust nature of life is my punishment. Being too invest in the lives of pitiful creatures such as yourself is my curse. Learn to do better or you'll end up like me. Surely you don't want that." Some of the anger had soothed after the strike, leaving her with a cool resentment. And underlying pain laced the words as she confessed her pathetic truth - she cared, more than she'd ever admit.

If Beechpaw wanted to spit in her face, she couldn't care less. Wolffang hadn't shown up for Starclan, or even for herself, it was for Beechpaw. This misguided and lost former medicine cat reminded her of herself, painfully so. She hated it. As much as she despised staring at her own dark past, it was carved into her shoulders and stared square at her maw with glowering disdain. No cat could out rank Wolffang in her own self-loathing and nothing could change that. But a deep, deep part of her hoped that maybe it could change something in Beechpaw.

Too fast for her to do anything, claws smacked the side of her face. Beechpaw recoiled with a snarl, expression giving way to a brief moment of surprise before being replaced by anger. Her own claws flashed upwards, a move of pure reflex that had absolutely no thought behind it whatsoever. If she'd been thinking, Beechpaw might've realized just how foolish that would've been. Not that she'd care much, but if she'd been thinking, she might've given the action a moment's pause. Alas, she was not, and did no such thing.

The starry miscreant was speaking again, and Beechpaw seethed as she spoke. So she'd failed her own kits? What a surprise. Beechpaw wasn't sure she knew any parent who hadn't, least of all herself, and she didn't appreciate the reminder. "I'd say I'd rather be dead than wind up like you, but that's half of it, isn't it? And then I'd have no choice but to listen?" She spat. "Poor thing, being 'invested' in us mere foolish mortals. How terrible for you. If I had a mouse for every empty platitude, for every Starclanner that claims to care, the forest would never go hungry again."

Wolffang had gone quiet but as Beechpaw spoke. She accepted the claws as they came but a low, vicious snarling began to rumble in her chest. It was exhausting, pointless, to yowl back and forth with a thick-skulled cat who cared for little more than indulging in their own self-condemning fantasies. If the former medicine cat wanted to waste away clinging onto the idea that it was Starclan's fault for cursing the path her own pads had chosen to step, the late she-cat would not dwell on that. Having any semblance of care did not mean that she had to placate such utter nonsense.

"You're going to die a fool, Beechpaw, and if you keep blaming others for your own faults, it will be a cold and lonely death. How ironic that would be. What a contrast to your poor warrior lover's death... he was surrounded by those who loved him. Where will you be?" Wolffang's voice was hallow, detached. Her vibrant yellow gaze seemed to peer into the very depths of Beechpaw's soul. There wasn't anything more to say - nothing that would be worth it at least. The rest was up to the she-cat who would return to the forest and likely continue to live as she always had. Wolffang wasn't sure she cared to watch. With at that, the little grey tabby turned and the starry world around Beechpaw began to fade out.

Beechpaw growled right back, not at all caring of the anger that rolled off of the Starclanner in waves. She was only angry because she knew Beechpaw was right, and was too much of a coward to do anything about it. Just like the rest of Starclan. The starry-pelted rat prattled on, but Beechpaw wasn't really listening to most of it.

Wrenspring.

How dare she. There was no point in talking, maybe there never had been to begin with.

With a snarl, Beechpaw lunged forward, fully intending to rip into the Starclanner's throat for the vile words she spewed... Only for her vision to fade. She blinked, and she was back in the moonstone's cavern... The stone rushing up to meet her face. "F-" She could almost taste the blood. Teeth bared and spitting curses, Beechpaw recoiled, fur still bristling. The flare of pain was enough to shock her into the real world, and the apprentice shook her head, wincing.

"Starclan." She spat at the darkened stone in disgust, "You awake, Muddythorn? Let's go." She was in no mood to stick around. Coming here had been just as stupid as she'd thought it would be.

"That's two days of our lives we'll never get back." She spat, tail lashing as she swept out of the moonstone's chamber. If Muddythorn wasn't careful he'd need to run to catch up, and Beechpaw didn't care if he did. He knew the way back as well as she did, anyways, he'd be fine.