Rushpaw's StarClan Dream

The night after Kitepaw came her brother. Taller, sturdier, his ginger coat marked by streaks of near-black. From which parent he inherited the dark points was hard to say; the ruddy color, nearly impossible. Whatever story his genetics told truly didn't matter to the medicine cat. She didn't look him in the eye either way when he came to her den, shuffling her paws through half-wilted herbs or pawing at her own tail as an excuse to not look at him directly. When he did arrive though, she smiled, even if she was just staring at his toes.

"Good to see you, Rushpaw," Cloverheart mewed pleasantly, biting back the urge to follow up with can you try really, really hard to find StarClan so I can talk to your mother? Instead, she jerked her head towards a spot he could settle himself in to, nodding once, twice for effect. "No Moonstone, unfortunately. Sure you know that though. We're just going to settle in here for the night, alright? I hope StarClan can finally reach you. If they don't... well, at least you've got some good rest, then." She paused, readjusting herself to lay down, before continuing on, "If you've got any questions, now is your chance. If not, then sleep well, and may StarClan find you."

Despite the circumstances, hope remained in the medicine cat's den. Cloverheart continued on the traditions, as if one of these days Starclan would bless an apprentice and commune with the clans once more. He had no expectations but this was a right of passage that he could not refuse. Rushpaw nodded and settled down into the nest. Curling around himself and resting his head on his paws, the dark russet time attempted to drift into sleep. His tail tip twitched right before the bridge of his nose. The rhythmic sight helped him to slowly calm his mind and eventually let the world around him fall away...

There were flickers of a pelt - one split between orange and black. Calico spots. Warmth. Safety. It was nothing more than fanciful colors and a sense of security. Although the scene was indecipherable, the tom subconsciously knew what his mind was telling him, the thing he had ignored for so long.

He woke. Slowly, he blinked away the sleep and found the frame of the medicine cat. The dream was fresh in his mind and he worried if he moved from the nest that it would be forgotten in an instant. Rushpaw wanted to cling to thing forever, whether it was a memory or merely conjured by an inventive mind. Darkglow had been a cat he thought little of - he'd never truly met her, and she'd never returned after her disappearance. Flywhisker had been a good enough parent and he never thought to dwell on ideas of his mother. But now... why now.

"Cloverheart," He started softly, "Can you tell me about Darkglow?"