Dawnmoons and Falconhawks

Falconmoon entered the medicine den when he was good and tired and the night was pitch black. Thick clouds hung in the sky, but it only served to block out the stars. The timing coincided with that of the new moon. The only thing that could have made the night darker would have been if they were in the middle of leaf-bare too. Falconmoon took in the sharp scents of the herbs and other plants that clung to the air here and his fur prickled with anticipation of what was to come. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe everything would happen. He didn’t know.
What he did know was that he was ready to face these dreams. He was ready to confront them and try to figure out why he was having them, as horrifying as they could be sometimes. Flowerthorn said it wasn’t from Starclan, but if there was more going on than what she knew or what was on the surface, how would she be able to tell him for a certainty? Maybe this was lunacy.

Maybe he’d finally mentally broken.

Falconmoon took one look at Smokestep and then to Plumleaf, but his face was expressionless save for a slightly wide-eyed gaze. He was scared, but he was going to do his best to get his answers. He waited patiently for the medicine cats to provide him with what he needed. Chamomile… a nice dose of it too… and a poppy seed or two. A deep, deep slumber was what he needed, but hopefully it wasn’t too deep that it was dreamless or all of this would be for nothing.

The pale warrior ingested the herbs and the seeds, then settled down into the nearest nest. The medicine cats had done a wonderful job of making it comfortable. It was lined with many thin vines for springiness and firmness, but over the top were skins of rabbits, squirrels and a single blazing russet fox skin on top. Falconmoon relaxed, using deep breathing techniques that Smokestep had taught him, and cleared his mind entirely. He had no thoughts, forcibly only focusing on his own breathing.

Slowly… finally… Falconmoon’s world around him drifted into the darkness.

Vivid images hit his dream world like a torrent of icy water. He was raised in Skyclan’s nursery and went by the name of Dawnkit. He had siblings, but only sisters. He and Beechkit were constantly at odds, but Dustkit and Primrosekit were fine. He had no quarrel with those two. Smokefeather, his mother, worked tirelessly to keep them alive but the strain showed on her tired face whenever she had to separate himself and Beechkit.

The dream felt less like a dream and more like he was going down the river again. It wasn’t stopping. There were very few breaks in between sections of the dream like there had been in the past. Before he knew it, he was Dawnpaw. He and the warrior Redfall never saw eye to eye either, despite him being good friends with Bloodstrike, his dad. His training progressed very quickly for his age with Blossomstep, his grandmother, overseeing his training. He even vividly saw a battle with a raccoon… one that he gutted while it was over the top of him. Disgusting! The blood and entrails of the beast had soiled his fur!

Some of his dreams repeated themselves, like going to see Rosepaw of Thunderclan and tricking her into telling him where Owl Tree was. Right after that, he and Beechpaw fought, but then buried all evidence of their violence under soil and urine. She was then told she was chosen by Starclan to be a medicine cat. What a hilarious joke that was, but fitting. Things were going well until… there was a fire!

It blazed through the camp and their territory and devoured it completely, with Dawnpaw racing out of there without a single thought for any of his clanmates. That was when he noticed a change in his parents. Bloodstrike was unceasingly angry, having lost his sister to the flames and yet the leader responsible for Skyclan’s hardships with the other clans was still alive. His father was always absent after that. He was always hunting. Always fighting. Nearly every day he had fresh wounds and yet every day he went back out into the wilds to find food for his family.
The Old Twoleg place wasn’t much, but it was home for long enough. Dawnpaw was starving, like much of his clan. He helped where he could as well but food was always meager. As often as he and Beechpaw rarely saw eye to eye, he didn’t hesitate at all to defend her from some nasty rogue that cornered her. Dawnpaw had never known true rage until that day. He had never known how much he had loved his sister until that day.

Finally, Riverclan found the starving clan in the Old Twoleg place. Dawnpaw casually listened in and eyed Ivystar, the leader. Skyclan was offered to have a temporary home in Riverclan territory under the condition that they provided for Riverclan as well as themselves. Skyclan agreed, and off into the other clan’s territory they went.
If Bloodstrike had been only absent before, he was practically made of wind by then. He only ever stopped moving when he came to the warrior’s den and collapsed from exhaustion, then was on his feet to go back to work before the sun even came up over the horizon. Dawnpaw may have had a father within a reasonable running distance throughout his apprenticehood, but he was still lacking a dad. He concealed his loneliness well.

One day he’d gone out with Smokefeather on a patrol, but her attitude had completely changed as well. Dawnpaw assumed it was all of the hard work for Riverclan that she was doing that made her so aggravated, so tired and so short-tempered. But no… Smokefeather took him to the Beech Copse for very different reasons. It wasn’t until they were alone that she revealed that she knew about the fight he and Beechpaw had before the fire. Was that even relevant anymore, after all that had happened? Neither the deputy nor leader seemed to think so at all.
Dawnpaw made an attempt to distract her by showing off how well he could sing, hoping she’d like it. She said little before insisting he spar. Dawnpaw didn’t want to lay his paws on his mother, of all cats, even if it was just a spar. It felt wrong to strike his mother. He loved her. Smokefeather either refused to see it that way or maybe she didn’t care. She came at him with a fury, holding nothing back save for her actual claws. Dawnpaw endured the beating and hardly fought back.

Once she had been satisfied that she felt she had taught him a lesson, they returned to the Riverclan camp. He refused to talk about what had happened or explain his stiffness and aches the next morning on patrol. It was no big deal, he told himself, though he couldn’t escape the angry gaze Smokefeather gave him often after that. Bloodstrike might as well have been dead for all the interaction he gave his kits.

Skyclan territory recovered in time and they returned to their home. Repairs were needed, but that could be achieved with some effort and some time. It was then that Dawnpaw finally became Dawnhawk. He had a desire to prove himself that was so fierce it drove him to anger. Maybe he learned it from watching Bloodstrike and saw it as strength, he didn’t know anymore. He fought with a rogue tom in the Dark Alleys of Twoleg place, impressed the rogue with his skill… and was offered a place in an organization called the Asylum.

Dawnhawk, firmly believing that Skyclan cared absolutely nothing for him (how could they, if even his parents did not?), accepted Iniko’s offer. Training was brutal, but his skills accelerated beyond what Skyclan could have taught him. He didn’t waste time on meager hunting expeditions, only violence. His lean body bulked up and his mental clarity for efficient battle techniques was sharpened to a dangerous point. He had done all of this and hid it from Skyclan while he worked, almost perpetually exhausted with the efforts.

Foxes attacked Skyclan camp and killed Sagelight, leaving Beechpaw as their Medicine Cat. Dawnhawk sought out the fox responsible, a fox marked with only one ear, courtesy of Bloodstrike. Asylum’s training allowed him to kill it by himself, but he wasn’t about to take it to the clan. No. He brought it back to the Asylum and turned it into his own personal pelt that he wore, decorated with porcupine quills on the back of the neck and teeth around the face like spikes on some lizards.

He wore the one-eared fox when he took his first life… that of Swansong of Skyclan. She discovered it was him after a few blows were exchanged, but it mattered not. Dawnhawk had to kill Swansong and bring her body back to prove to the Asylum’s leader that he was loyal to them and trustworthy. He accomplished his goal.

Dawnhawk found a new family to fill the void that his old family left and he pledged all of his allegiance to them and their mission. He underestimated his own suppressed desire for his original family, which came out in an unexpected way that nearly compromised his position with the Asylum.

Bloodstrike took Dawnhawk and Copperpaw, Dawnhawk’s younger brother from a recent litter from Smokefeather and Bloodstrike, out for sparring practice. Smokefeather followed in secret. The apprentice was slow and not built for trees with his stockiness and Dawnhawk expressed his frustration at basically having to “fight” Bloodstrike alone. That was when Smokefeather appeared and Bloodstrike said that they should spar, since Copperpaw was Smokefeather’s apprentice that he had just insulted.

Again, just like in the beech copse, Dawnhawk didn’t want to lay paws on his mother. Smokefeather again, cared not. She pummeled him, though this time Dawnhawk had to stop himself from going all out and using the Asylum’s training to utterly demolish her. Instead, he took the beating, but once they were finished he pointed out her abusive tendencies without holding back. Smokefeather looked genuinely regretful and tried to comfort Dawnhawk after, but it was too late for all of that. It was too late for Dawnhawk to turn his back on the Asylum… and he would not.
The Asylum finally made their move and took over the entire forest with Dawnhawk leading them to Skyclan. Bloodstrike refused to submit even against an army of invaders. It was Dawnhawk that had to climb  a tree and knock his father off of his defensive branch. Bloodstrike was nearly beaten to death before he was imprisoned, and Dawnhawk reigned over Skyclan in one fell swoop. He bonded close with Honeycomb and had kits with her. Only one daughter survived to apprenticehood.

It was at this point he was beginning to learn to be ruthless. The clan was full of fools who thought they could resist and harsh actions had to be taken, which Dawnhawk carried out. One of the resistors was Flowerthorn. He had her imprisoned as well at Fourtrees where they kept Bloodstrike. Dawnhawk got a report days later that Bloodstrike had gone mad and killed his own clanmate in his savage state. He kept everything hushed so as not to incite an uprising from angry Skyclanners.

Moons passed and new-leaf approached. Dawnhawk had already had a litter of kits with another Asylum member to prove that he was still contributing to the organization. He never saw them until much later. Iniko died and the Asylum leaders assigned the new Captain of the Standards unit role to Dawnhawk, of which he accepted greedily and without hesitation. With his new authority, his brutality and coldness only grew. He had one last conversation with Smokefeather in the nursery that resulted in nothing but harsh words and Dawnhawk killing Featherkit, fighting Beechface, then killing a fellow Asylum member to make it look like he had made an attempt to protect his family rather than kill anyone. Smokefeather and Beechface kept their silence under the treat of being destroyed if they spoke up.

Only weeks before new-leaf, the clans gathered at Fourtrees and challenged all of Asylum. After a bloody battle, the Asylum lost and Dawnhawk fled. He was the only surviving leader in the Asylum as far as he knew. He met with Eosphoros, the she-cat he’d had kits with, and tried to take her to Skyclan and make her make it sound like he had no choice and was innocent in all of this.
Ashstorm, another of Dawnhawk’s sisters, threw him in the river to save him, firmly believing he was innocent of the crimes Beechface accused him of, which was the incident in the nursery.

The dream then showed the events of Dawnhawk’s life as a rogue, covering himself in machine grease to dye his fur black, join Windclan under the name of “Nightwind” and his many relationships there. He had yet another litter wth Sunnyskip, still lying about who he was. When he revealed his identity, he was cast out and war broke out between Skyclan and Windclan after he left.

In his rage, Dawnhawk attacked the lightly guarded Skyclan camp in search of a permanently maimed Smokfeather that had taken residence in the elder’s den. He killed Cloudmane when he couldn’t find her, then pummeled Foxfire, both elders. An apprentice named Maplepaw tried to intervene, but he killed her with a swift kick as well. He and Wrenspring fought, the last elder having quite a bit of fight left in him, but he was ultimately defeated as well. Dawnhawk tried to leave, but one more warrior appeared. Blossomstep, his grandmother, his mentor… and one of the few that still loved him despite everything. He didn’t want her in trouble for “doing nothing”, so he gave her a quick swipe and bolted away.

He didn’t know at the time that she had been mortally wounded.

The dream continued through other various events of Dawnhawk’s life, all full of death and treachery. He saw him befriend Tarot the rogue, start the Forgotten Order, have two new litters of kits of substantial size. One was in the Forgotten Order and the other was in Thunderclan. They battled Shadowclan for killing his son Apollo. They nearly won, but were too inured to actually make it into their camp. Still… their warriors and their leader had fallen. Dawnhawk felt that the message they sent was sufficient.

The dream showed Dawnhawk pulling off things he should not have been able to… like eventually drowning Ivystar until he sent her to Starclan permanently. The same Riverclan leader that had shown his clan mercy and kept him fed at one point he killed because she had threatened to drag him to Skyclan for his execution. Killing was just another chore most days it seemed.
The dream showed Dawnhawk’s entire transition from an angry rogue leader to the leader of the Dark Forest. The body at the base of the Night Fangs in HIghstones was his. Slatethroat killed him to turn him into a true monster… a Dark Forest cat. He used his new power to take over the forest once more and ordered Beechfang to execute Smokefeather.
Dawnhawk, now going by Morningstar, finally felt like he’d truly won… and how incredibly boring that had been. Despite being all powerful and immortal, Morningstar entered a state of depression. He hadn’t known that emptiness could be so cold. He only started to feel alive again when Starclan returned. Some cats sacrificed themselves to allow Starclan to return to the forest and fight against the Dark Forest cats.

What cat other than Smokefeather would show up again to do battle with her son? Morningstar wasn’t some scared kit anymore… and he was glad to obliterate Smokefeather once and for all. When she died, she would become nothing… but he would remain. Briarthorn, Bloodstrike’s new mate, assisted and the two she-cats ultimately won.
"Tarot," He said softly, so softly he didn't know if his friend would hear him. "It's only goodbye for now. These cats thought they had banished me before, dooming me to die, and I have proved them wrong time and time again. It will be no different this time." He gave his friend a bloody-toothed grin, but it was obvious that his eyes were unfocused. "I have made a Silverpelt of the Dark Forest, and a Dark Forest of Silverpelt. Better to reign in the Dark Forest than to be a servant of Starclan."

Then Morningstar fell into the pit of blackness. The Dark Forest engulfed him. For a time, he was fine there. For a time… he felt like he could think more clearly. But when that time came to an end… Morningstar growled his discontent. The growling became howling and his discontent grew to a rage.
He had never belonged in the Dark Forest… he should never have even been here to begin with! It had all been Starclan’s fault… and Smokefeather’s! His absentee leader and father gave him no guidance.

”THIS ISN’T FAIR, NONE OF IT! IF YOU BASTARD STARCLANNERS WOULD NEVER HAVE BURNED OUR TERRITORY THIS WOULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED! MY FAMILY WAS FINE BEFORE THAT! DID YOU REALLY EXPECT AN APPRENTICE TO BE ABLE TO SHOULDER SO MUCH PAIN AND COME OUT PERFECTLY FINE? YOU SPEAK OF JUSTICE BUT THERE WAS NEVER ANY JUSTICE FOR ME!”

Morningstar howled and howled even above the agonized cry of other Dark Forest cats. For what felt like an eternity no one seemed to hear, but Morningstar continued to bellow the unfairness of it all. He would not be ignored.

Eventually, whether it was night or day Morningstar did not know, Copperfox appeared to him in the Dark Forest with swirling, shimmering stars all on his pelt.

”Dawnhawk!” He bellowed angrily to get his brother shut his mouth. ”Will you please be quiet for a second? I have heard you. We have all heard you. After much deliberation, you are being summoned to the Mist and no further for a trial.” Copperfox finally calmed himself and fixed his brother with an unreadable expression. ”Come with me. There are many in Starclan who believe you do deserve another chance, but be warned, there are plenty who do not.”
Morningstar stared, stunned, but followed. It had worked… it had actually worked!

”Also, you will not be called Morningstar. Your leader gave you your name, Dawnhawk, and we will refer to you as such.”

”I don’t care.” Came his simple reply. He followed Copperfox in silence. He had no recollection of how it happened, but they arrived in a misty landscape. Dawnhawk sat down when instructed on a slab of barren sand surrounded by a foggy river. Hundreds of Starclan cats appeared, their shimmering form making them visible even in the mist. They sat all around him and even above him somehow, like there were trees or limbs he could not see himself.

”Alright, Starclan, the trial will begin now. I will not give my own opinion on the matter. I am here to mediate only. I will call upon several cats who had personal experiences with my brother and then Starclan as a whole will cast their votes.” A tree suddenly shimmered into existence behind Dawnhawk. It was a small thing, only a sapling, and carried no leaves as if caught in leaf-bare. Dawnhawk stared at it for just a moment, then turned his attention back to what was happening in front of him.

”Once voting starts, this tree will grow as you gain favor for a second chance at life. Once Starclan is done voting, it will stop growing. It needs to have many leaves on it and be taller than you can jump at it’s lowest branches in order for your request to be granted. Just know that if this tree fails to reach that description, you will be sent back to the Dark Forest and your voice will be removed. If the votes are in your favor, you will be granted a second chance at life but will be stripped of all of your old memories. Do you accept these terms and wish to proceed with this trial?” Copperfox asked, staring his brother into his blue eyes with his copper ones. Dawnhawk nodded without hesitation.

”Let us begin. I call upon Blossomstep of Skyclan to step forward and speak first.” Copperfox moved aside and allowed a spot on the slab of land beside Dawnhawk for her. The pale Dark Forest cat blinked once in surprise, then lowered his gaze as guilt weighed heavily on him.

A familiar silver tabby pelt emerged from the group of starry cats, starlight glistening in her long fur. Blossomstep’s expression was firmly set, a careful choice for her grandson’s behalf as she moved to stand beside him. Her eyes betrayed her true emotions, she had feared she would never see her beloved apprentice and grandkit ever again. His list of crimes was large, but were they only his fault? Or was he an unfortunate creation of the series of tragedies that had fallen upon him starting at such a young age? The tender moons of his youth were scarred with hardships and trials, ones that even seasoned warriors would struggle navigating. This trials were not solely his own, but no cat would react to something the same way would they? She frowned as Dawnhawk turned his gaze to the ground, brushing her tail across his back as she softly mewed, addressing him for the first time in moons.

“Dawnhawk, raise your head. Do not lower it in front of me, or I will have your whiskers. That is a promise.” She waited until he looked at her, taking a moment to search his gaze before leaning in and nuzzling the top of his head with her chin, whispering so only he could hear. “You absolute squirrel-brain. I’ve missed you dearly. This is no time for catching up though.” Raising her head to look at the rest of the gathered cats, Blossomstep took a deep breath.

“Can any one of us claim to have never made a mistake? A poor choice that ended in something much larger than we could have imagined? If you say you do, then I say you are a liar. I lost my life at Dawnhawk’s claws, a mistake that he clearly regrets to this day. His crimes are great, and the list is long, every clan felt the effects of his anger and rage. However, when we clear away the webs that were so carefully placed and wrapped tightly around him, we are left with a cat who faced so much in his formative years. No one cat is to blame, Dawnhawk included. A fire that drove SkyClan from it’s home, the struggle to gain affection from those closest to him… All before he received his warrior name. Shortly after Asylum arrived, and turned the forest on it’s head. Dawnhawk was not the only cat affected by everything. To sentence him to an eternity of solitude in the Dark Forest is harsh. This belief of mine does not only apply to Dawnhawk, as I believe that we should consider these circumstances for all - but some among the stars aren’t ready for that conversation yet. I believe that he deserves another chance, a life of redemption to serve his clan and family the way that young Dawnhawk so desperately yearned to do before his life was shredded before his eyes.”

As the tree grew slightly, the beginning stages of leaves appearing on it’s few branches, Blossomstep turned her gaze back to her grandkit. “This opportunity comes with it’s restrictions, and guidelines. You are to use it for the best of your clan and family. If you walk down the same path as you did, there will be nothing more I can do for you. Please know that I will be watching and waiting to see how you proceed, should you pass this trial. My heart hopes for you, and that someday moons from now we will be able to tread the starry plains together and catch up. This is all I can do for you, the rest falls on your shoulders, my love. Take care.” Having said her piece, Blossomstep bumped her head to Dawnhawk’s shoulder gently before stepping back, rejoining the crowd to take a place next to her mate.

Once Blossomstep had said her peace, Copperfox patiently waited for her to return to her spot among the crowd. He then stepped forward and announced the next cat. ”I now call upon Burningwing of Shadowclan to come forth and speak.” Copperfox hardly had time to move out of the way before the dark-furred tom practically rocketed from his place among the crowd and landed with such a fury onto the land that the stars in his pelt almost seemed to be ablaze.

"You? Another chance? Tell me that's a joke, Starclan." He growled viciously as he leaned into Dawnhawk's face. "You follow the code or you don't. Following the code should determine whether or not you make it to Starclan and nothing else!" His tail lashed viciously before he turned to face the rest of Starclan. "Will we allow all Dark Forest cats a second chance? If we start with one we may as well allow them all. I personally don't care if this tom's mother used him as dog bait for entertainment. He was a filthy rat that disregarded lives and the code… and all of Starclan for that matter. I say send him back where he belongs. He was vile and cruel in life. He was vile and cruel in death. I see no reason to believe he will be any better if we let him return to the forest. Better yet… skin him, and then send him to the Dark Forest. Doom him to walk with no fur to warm his body. Let all of the Dark Forest know his name from a glance! Let us use him as an example of why Dark Forest cats do not ask for second chances!"

With that, Burningwing took a snap at Dawnhawk's face, but stopped himself short. It annoyed him further that Dawnhawk didn't even so much as blink. The dark furred tom returned to his seat among the crowd.

After Burningwing’s scathing comments were finished and he had returned with a hiss to his place among the other Starclan cats, Copperfox called out in a loud voice. ”I call forth Flowerthorn of Skyclan to speak!”

The small pale she-cat stepped up. If someone asked a long time ago if she would do this she would scoff in their face, after everything he did.. After the damage he caused? It was because of him that she ended up in her death.. But. She had learned.. And changed. She stood for what she believed in, what she thought would benefit her, her family and Skyclan.. While at one point Dawnhawk was doing the same.. Looking out for himself, driven to a point where he felt violence was the only answer.

”I don’t know if I’m the last cat you expected to see or not, but I’m here to state my piece.” She remained calm, her posture relaxed unlike some of those that had spoken. ”I have done a lot of thinking in my time here in Starclan, even given some lives to some of the leader’s of the forest. Each time I reached the same conclusion, given the same life.” Blue eyes stared up at the dark forest cat in front of her. ”Forgivenness. It was forgiveness. I learned to move on, forgive those who wronged me, and I’m extending that same forgiveness to you now Dawnhawk.”

Flowerthorn knew others would not agree with her, or even think the tom earned an ounce of it, but she felt it, and that is all that mattered. ”I’m giving you a new opportunity Dawnhawk. Do not squander it.” She didn’t know the tom as well as some of the others, but even his whining, she felt he earned it, needed it. And a second chance could be all that was needed to turn things around. With one firm look at the tom, she gave a curt nod before turning to join the crowd once again.

Copperfox waited a moment to allow the words of the last three cats to sink in before he called the next one. ”I call forth Swiftspirit of Windclan.” He stole a glance at Dawnhawk and was satisfied with the look of tension and uncertainty so far. It was good to knock him down a few pegs.

A pale she-cat with faint gray tabby markings across her face, legs and tail stepped out of the crowd on silent white paws, pale blue eyes unflinching as they settled on the golden tom. Starlight shimmered across her pale fur, making it appear almost opalescent in the mist. She bore a scar across one shoulder, a reminder of the rogue group that she had come from. She was the daughter of the Asylum’s Head, Eris, and Dawnhawk’s background in his birth clan had origins who were of similar high standing. Like Nightwind, Dawnhawk, Morningstar, whatever he called himself now, she was not of Windclan origin, and like him she had joined the clan under false pretenses after the Asylum fell. They were both the outsiders, both had to work not nearly as hard as they should have to gain the trust of the clan they joined. Both were outsiders wary of one another, and yet they had formed a pact of sorts. “Nightwind” had a past that wasn’t Swiftspirit’s business. She had a past that wasn’t his. So long as neither put the other and their loved ones in danger, it wasn’t their place to run and tattle. They shared a goal of survival and did what they could to achieve it.


And that was where the similarities ended. Swiftspirit had failed in her duties as her mother’s scout. She wound up caring about the stupidly trusting, painfully naïve clan. “Nightwind” simply could not leave well enough alone. Just had to continue his vengeful streak. Preemptive strikes were hardly going to let him stay hidden for long. Going into twolegplace to try and keep up his disguise, being found out and hunted... That was his own stupidity. But Windclan had not been implicated until Shrikestar, then Shrikestorm, blew it out of the water at the gathering.


Swiftspirit was born to be a scout, and that did not change when she joined Starclan. Such interesting things she’d found upon death. Silently, she stalked up to the dark forest tom, circling him with slow, measured pawsteps. Her white-tipped tail twitched back and forth. Swiftspirit had been restless and unable to sit still in life, and death had not changed that. Let Dawnhawk be forced to turn with her, to keep her from his back. Let him squirm in the uncertainty. Not that she would attack him, not today, at least. Copperfox was here as a mediator, and she could respect the former Skyclan tom that much.


“I always said Windclan was far too trusting.” Swiftspirit’s voice was calm, betraying nothing of the emotion she felt. “Shrikestar was the only one to show good sense in not blindly trusting the smelly rogue who never groomed himself despite reeking of twoleg filth and the ocassional disappearance. He was the only one watching the two of us and waiting for us to slip up. Still, you were given a chance, just as I was. Lilacsong was a fool to let you leave knowing that Skyclan was going to attack.” Not telling him to go might have prevented a few problems before they could materialize. Like his little raid on Skyclan’s camp.


“Still... You have to admit that sneaking around their borders, maiming a warrior into forced retirement, then killing two more while with Windclan’s ranks – not that they ever found out that trap was your doing – wasn't exactly making the most of that opportunity Lilacsong was so generous in giving you. You had Sunnyskip and your kits, knowing you would eventually be found out. You played the good warrior, not that most of Windclan was hard to fool. Perhaps if you had stopped there, the ruse would have held up. But no, you got ahead of yourself in a way I never could. Masking your fur... You realize how truly gullible Windclan was? You could have avoided gatherings altogether in your natural pelt, make some excuse about not being fond of crowds. They would have bought it. You would not have had to risk twolegplace, risk venturing so close to Skyclan territory. You made things difficult for yourself, and only you. I know Nightstrikers take stupid risks and have no brains to speak of, but even for them your actions were beyond disgraceful. You kept poking the bear, and what did you think would happen? That they would ignore it? I chose to hide in plain sight because one shoulder scar on its’ own means nothing. You could have concealed that with much less effort, but you were never going to stay concealed when you all but flaunted you were not who you said you were at every opportunity.” Her words were scathing, but her tone was calm as the scout-turned-Windclanner kept her composure as her slow, even pawsteps came to a stop, blue eyes holding Dawnhawk’s gaze.


“You’ve been obnoxiously persistent about this whole thing. Nobody who isn’t legitimate would be so adamant they were wronged... Unless they were absolutely delusional.” Her gaze turned cold as she watched his reaction to her words. “You had every opportunity in the world, Dawnhawk. You chose violence each time. You chose to stay, to continue it, when you could have gone anywhere. I’m not defending your parents, either. The things I’ve heard your mother has said to you make me want to rip her throat out, personally, but you still killed innocents. They set you on your path just as much as you chose to keep following it. They learned their lessons far too late to do themselves or you any good. All that blood on your paws, and plenty of it is on theirs.”


“Let’s say you’re right. We give you another chance. Even if only to shut you up because my ears are still ringing.” Her tail lashed once, “Who is to say you won’t fall right back into it? What reason do we have to take your word for any of this? You say you would have turned out different if Skyclan’s territory didn’t burn?” Her lip curled in a sneer, “I call that an excuse. A poor excuse. You know what befell the Asylum. I watched as the defeated brought Eris’s body back. I found the father of my kits-” Not partner or mate, no. Her relationship with Timbersun had ended before their kits had even been born, in truth, and there had been no partnership in that. She should have taken Bearspirit up on his offer the first time he asked, rather than both of them trying to uphold a lie. She regretted that Timbersun and Dewlight had suffered hurt, but she could feel Bearspirit’s eyes on her from where she’d left him in the crowd and didn’t regret that at all. She wondered if Dawnhawk had ever truly cared for Sunnyskip, or if she was just a means to prove loyalty just as Timbersun was to her. “-and my son ripped to shreds by dogs. I watched my mate die in front of me because you unleashed the dark forest on us. My eldest daughter died to them, unprovoked. I died to that foxheart Raisha, and it was another daughter of mine who had to sacrifice herself to help put that filth back where it belongs. Yet here I stand, not murdering anyone because of the hardships I have faced. The Asylum is dead, and I learned to live without it. Those I care about have died, and I learned to live without them. I haven’t gone on killing sprees thinking they would solve my problems. You poor, misguided fool… You could have had the life you wanted, but you were so emotionally inept and driven by the need for vengeance that you had to live in the past and make your point when it had already been made. Over and over again.”


“Call me a bleeding heart. Call me a fool, because I am one for even listening to this. I am a fool for even considering it. And yet I truly pity you if all you have ever learned in your miserable excuse for a life is that vengeance and bloodshed are the answers to your problems. If we are only the product of our environment, maybe, just maybe there is a chance for you. Maybe you can actually learn something. I am going against my better judgment here... but if you have been this insistent about it, and you truly do want to change, I cannot deny you another chance when I was given a chance too.” Nevermind that she had once held ill intentions of her own. She’d grown to care for that band of trusting, naïve cats and called them her own. “Maybe I’ve become just as naïve and trusting as the Windclanners we rolled our eyes at.” Her lips curled up into a smile then, but it was far from friendly as she stalked closer. “Prove me wrong, Dawnhawk, or stars help you, I’ll come down and end you myself. I’ll make sure you meet the same end your mother did.” With those parting words, the opalescent warrior back away, frosty gaze never once leaving Dawnhawk’s as she melted back into the crowd.


Once she had gone too, Copperfox’s voice rang out again. ”I call forth Bearspirit of Riverclan to speak!”

Bearspirit stepped forth from the crowd and eyed Dawnhawk with calm green eyes. He took his place by Dawnhawk dutifully and was silent for a moment at first. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and strong.

"I had known little of Dawnhawk outside his reputation. Despite the pain and horror he has caused, once I did learn of where his cruelty originated, I must admit I felt pity for him. I didn't grow up believing in Starclan. I was a kittypet. My mother, my father, my siblings and my uncle had no chance to join me in the Stars. If there are good cats who cannot make it to Starclan for not believing, or even just never heard of them, then maybe something should change.
Maybe a Dark Forest cat that had no real chance to begin with could be the start of that change. You are only even in the Dark Forest because you believed in Starclan and made all of the wrong choices. My family is just gone, whether they were good or not. I would like to see you be given another chance, Dawnhawk. I hope you can prove all of your doubters wrong. I hope you can be the change that Starclan needs."
Bearspirit finished speaking and walked calmly back to his seat among the crowd.

Once Bearspirit had settled back into his place, Copperfox called out in a loud yowl, ”I call forth Newtspring of Skyclan to speak!”

No one came immediately to stand beside Dawnhawk. For a few timeless moments, it seemed Copperfox’s summons would go unanswered. Then, grumbling quietly, a large tom pushed forward from the back of the crowd. He took his time, lumbering each step until he finally reached the slab. Newtspring shook out his starlit coat and blinked slowly at his half-brother. It looked like he’d just woken up. In truth, he’d been watching and listening closely. But this whole thing–

“This’s a waste’a my time. ‘M gettin’ bored.” Newtspring rumbled, tail fluttering with agitation. He stayed close for a little longer, amber eyes cold, then huffed into Dawnhawk’s face and looked to the rest of StarClan. “What’re we doin’, sittin’ ‘n’ talkin’ like he’s th’only one here’s been through it? We all suffered somethin’.” The restless swaying of Newtspring’s tail turned into a sharper lash and he started to pace back and forth in front of Dawnhawk.

“I followed SkyClan t’war over him. Don’t ‘member if I even fought ‘n owl’r anythin’ ‘fore that. Fought good, too, real good, til m’body gave out. Listened to cats screamin’ in pain. Heard ‘n’ saw death fer th’first time. Ya’know– war. Went home bloody, bruised, ‘n’ barely conscious.” Newtspring stopped pacing when he was standing directly in front of Dawnhawk again. “Don’t think I need t’remind everyone what was waitin’ for SkyClan there.” An ear flicked in the vague direction Blossomstep had rejoined the crowd.

“An’ you were a pest after that. Felt like no one ever let a breath go, waitin’ t’see when you ‘n’ your rat-bitten hide’d show up again. Watched ya open Bloodstrike up in front’a the whole forest.” A snarl rolled through Newtspring’s throat. He let that statement hang, looking thoughtful in the silence, before continuing in a more even tone, “I never skinned somethin’ ‘fore. Don’tcha think I could’a? Comin’ home ‘n’ seein’ one’a my sisters dead… could’a been a real turnin’ point. I could’a spent the rest’a my life chasin’ you down so when I caught up t’ya, I could watch you suffer ‘n’ bleed ‘til I felt like ya paid for all the bodies ya left behind. But, I didn’t. I moved on.”

Newtspring sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Maybe if ya just killed one cat or somethin’, I’d be more sympathetic to ya, but how’ver much blood ya’ve got on ya… ‘s beyond provin’ a point. You weren't tryin' to soothe anything 'cept an ego. Yer like a kit, just that your tantrums gotta body count.” The large tom huffed again, tail whipping one final time. Jerking his chin, Newtspring turned away from Dawnhawk, declaring, “Forest’s better off without ‘em. Let ‘em rot,” before stalking away to disappear back through the crowd.

”I now call upon Wolfstar of Skyclan to speak!” Copperfox declared loudly.

Wolfstar's baleful golden stare had followed every cat as they stepped up to speak. First, Blossomstep, whose speech he listened to with a mask of neutrality, though every kind word, every gentle touch shared between them, stoked the ever burning rage deep in his gut. He kept the facade as Blossomstep returned to his side, curling his tail with hers briefly before settling back on his haunches and listening to others, one by one, speak for or against Dawnhawk. WindClan, ShadowClan, RiverClan... the dark tom's gaze flicked upwards to the tree branch, lip curling slightly at each new budding leaf and limb. How, after all that his grandson had done, did he have so many allies among the stars?

When Newtspring had finished, and Copperfox called the old leader's name, Wolfstar strode forward. He locked his gaze with Dawnhawk's, eyes cold and aloof, and then tore it away to turn and face the crowd. "Swansong!" the voice rang out, clear and firm, in the space around them. A second passed, and then he continued, this time without stopping. "Featherkit. Tigersong. Cloudmane. Maplepaw. Blossomstep. Wrenspring. Pigeonsun. Smokefeather."

Again, he waited a moment before he continued. "Those are the names of every SkyClan cat whose lives ended at the whim of Dawnhawk." He spat the name like it was bitter on his tongue. "Half of those cats shared his blood, but all called him family. Brother. Sister. Mother. Grandmother. Kit. Apprentice. Warrior. Elder. No cat, no relation, no age or experience was safe from his insatiable love of blood and power. This is the cat whose freedom we are here to discuss. This cat who murdered without regard, who caused pain wherever he went, who claims his terrible upbringing is the reason he went to such drastic, violent lengths." Wolfstar snorted derisively, shaking his head.

He turned back to directly address Dawnhawk now, eyes blazing. "You could sit there and profess how you hated every moment of it, how you were hurt and just wanted to belong somewhere, but your deceit will get you no further in death than it did in life. You are a liar, a cheat, and a coward, and you go to great lengths to place the blame for your unforgivable crimes on anycat's shoulders except for your own." Wolfstar's eyes narrowed. His long tail lashed behind him. "Better cats than I, have pleaded for patience and forgiveness... on your behalf. But a hundred lives worth of good deeds would not make up for the damage you've done. Were this decision mine, and mine alone, you would spend the rest of eternity wandering the dark, so alone that only the trees could hear you yowl. Unfortunately, it is not solely my decision... though I hope, for the sake of the cats who still bear the scars of your treachery, that the result will be the same."

With one last look of utter disgust, Wolfstar turned away from Dawnhawk, returning to Blossomstep's side. Hopefully, she would forgive him in time, but this, he would not budge on.


Frostgaze padded forward, looking with his ever-icy eyes toward the cat in question. Dawnhawk. The killer of his clanmates, who condoned the atrocities his rogue order had committed. The tom that had gone so far as to summon the Dark Forest, just to get what he wanted. The white tom had listened patiently throughout the trial. He was level-headed, calm, logical. However, his mercy only went so far. Finally, it was his turn to speak, and the small cat just stared through Dawnhawk, as if he were piercing through his very being. "Dawnhawk. You who endured the unfair trials of your apprenticehood, you who claim that your experiences as a young warrior caused you to commit atrocities under the name of Morningstar. In my eyes, you are already guilty."

Keeping his poise, the tom sat, keeping his eyes locked with the prisoner in front of him. "I do not care about your origins. Every cat has the capacity to change themselves. You had put out effort, that much is true, however," Frostgaze's tail swished behind him, the only indiciation of any emotions he was feeling, "You failed to better yourself. Did you need permission to not kill innocents? Did you require a cat to come to you and tell you, 'I want you to not kill anymore, because I want you to be better'? Cats have gone to the Dark Forest for less than wanton murder."

"I will admit, your upbringing was harsh. However, as I have said, your origins matter little to me. What I judge is not what made you, but what you say it made you do. You were never forced to bring claws forth against your enemies or your friends. You did that out of anger, out of spite, out of sorrow. Perhaps you found no joy in it, but you murdered regardless. That alone calls for you to be chained to the Dark Forest for all eternity." Standing again, Frostgaze turned to the other Starclanners gathered around the newly grown tree.

"This cat chose to murder. That choice alone grants him a place in the Dark Forest, whether he wanted to be better, or not. Good luck, Dawnhawk, but I do want you to never walk the clans again." Frostgaze gave Dawnhawk one last look, perhaps something akin to pity, before moving back to the crowd.

Copperfox called forth Ashfall of Windclan next.

A familiar face came out of the crowd of Starclanners, distinctly different, distinctly wrong.

Her scarred face, her missing eye, the way the shadows clung to her feet and ankles, as if she were chained to the darkness that Starclan kept so far from their light. She was chained to it, and limping forward, her eye met her father's. A deep rage burned inside of her, and if she could, she would've killed him again right then and there. However, Starclan would disallow it, this was supposed to be a peaceful meeting. She still respected them, so she would follow their rules... for now.

Ashfall held no love for her father, and Starclan ripping her from her eternal hunt for him, only to place her directly in front of him. She was barely keeping any form of composure. A snarl came from her lips, and she wildly turned to the crowd who had gathered for this trial... this sham. "Some of you will know who I am." Her gaze flicked to Swiftspirit, a pang of regret sounded in her heart, but she didn't show it. She wouldn't. "Most won't. I am Ashfall, and Dawnhawk was my father. I turned to the Dark Forest in the hopes of defeating him, without Starclan's help. I never wanted it, and I don't regret my choice, you will regret releasing him to the world again." Stalking forward, toward her father, stopping inches from his face, she spat, "He had a rough life? Well so did I. He lost cats? Well so did I! Circumstance shaped him, but he made his own choices, just as I have made mine. You don't see me screeching for a new chance, for a new life! He chose his path when he sided with the Dark Forest, just as I chose mine, so don't for one moment say he deserves this new life, when you won't say that for any other cat in the Dark Forest! You may as well hold a trial for each of them!"

With a dry laugh, Ashfall backed up to a distance where she wouldn't get sent straight back to where she belonged, less threatening this way. More time to talk. "Maybe my father did try to change. He had me and my brothers, after all. Sunnyskip, I love her, she loved him. I'd like to believe that he loved her too." Her voice sombered, eye falling to her paws. "He chose that life. He chose to run from the consequences of what he did in Skyclan. I made a promise to never run. He deserves justice, that much is true, but justice isn't always good for you." Looking back up, she turned to the crowd again. "Justice is what is necessary, not what is convenient! You're all tired of hearing him scream? Well flatten your ears, because his screams just help me track him, help me find him, help me attempt to deliver the justice that he deserves! He deserves to scream for the rest of eternity! He has maimed, and killed, just to get what he wants, so don't for one moment say that he deserves to live, because he doesn't. Not while he lives, not while he has died."

Light blue eye tracking the tree, she noted it had grown significantly since it had first been planted. There was a good chance that he would get to live once more. Idiots. "Dawnhawk," she growled, once more facing him, "you may yet live again. You will mark my words, if you ever slip into your old habits, if you ever do something to go back to the Dark Forest, I will be right there WAITING FOR YOU! You will regret your choices, and I will give the clans the justice they deserve, whether Starclan wills it, or not. They won't get a choice next time." Stalking away, Ashfall disappeared into the crowd, her shadowy chains slowly following behind her. Before long, she would be back there, in that terrible place, knowing that her one reason for going there would be gone. He would be gone, and where was her justice then?

Once the speeches had concluded, a low hum filled the air as Starclan cats talked among themselves. Copperfox sat beside Dawnhawk, whom looked worried and like his stomach hurt. A long silence passed between the two brothers, neither of which seemed keen on breaking it.

Slowly, the tree behind Dawnhawk grew new buds on it’s branches. The pale tom turned to watch it, which he was grateful for to get his attention off of all of those hundreds of thousands of pairs of eyes all around and above him. The tree began to grow, it’s roots burying deep and the trunk growing from less than the thickness of the width of his paw to a proper tree.
Leaves spring forth from the buds and the branches stretched long and wide. The only thing Dawnhawk worried about was the height. He was a Skyclan cat. The tree would have to be incredibly tall for him to struggle to reach the lowest branches. After awhile it seemed like the tree was growing wider, but not much taller. His clenched his jaw nervously but didn’t look away.
For a heart-wrenching moment it looked like the tree had stopped, absolutely not high enough for him to struggle to the lowest branch yet, but then it grew taller once more. He dared not breathe as he stared at the mighty oak tree.

Finally, after what seriously could have been moons passing, the voting had ended. Copperfox turned to Dawnhawk and fixed him with an unreadable expression.
”You know what to do. Don’t try to fake your jump. I will be watching, and I know you well. Give it everything you got.” Copperfox said to him calmly. Dawnhawk took a deep breath and bunched his haunches under him. He kicked off powerfully and in earnest with his Skyclanner’s hind legs and used his tail to propel him upward. He rushed up the oak tree… and for a heart-stopping second he thought he’d reach the lowest branch and grab it with ease…

But gravity stopped him just short of it. His paw flexed out and grasped only empty air. He wiggled as he fell and righted himself to land on his feet. As he landed back down, he could hear the low rumble of hundreds of growls of disappointment as well as the purrs of satisfaction. Dawnhawk brought himself up to his full height, his expression triumphant.

”Dawnhawk, you have been granted a second chance at life. As stated before, we will strip you of your memories so that you will not be tempted by your past traumas to continue to live as evilly as you had before you died. When the time comes that you die again, for good this time, we will give you a final judgment. You may end up with us or the Dark Forest. It entirely depends on you.” Copperfox concluded and pivoted on his heel. Dawnhawk hadn’t noticed when the foggy river had dried up, but he was free to walk along barren land now.
”Come with me. You will be born again in Skyclan to make sure that this is fair for everyone, not just you.” He made a nod towards the Starclan cats that were now dispersing. He was obviously talking about the Starclan cats that wished for him to fail. That was fine with Dawnhawk.

”Thank you for granting me a second chance.” Dawnhawk said calmly. He noticed right then that his neck wound was no longer bleeding and the shadows that curled around his spirit had vanished. The transition was already happening…

”I didn’t. Blossomstep was a very loud advocate on your behalf. Truthfully you owe her more than you owe anyone else. Now, lay down before the Sunstones. Press your nose to them like you would the moonstone and prepare yourself. This isn’t like falling asleep. This is like waking up, and it can be a bit of a shock. You’ll be a newborn kit when it happens so your cries will seem normal.” Copperfox led him to stones that were white as snow with a soft golden glow coming off of them. These stones were the link from Starclan to the clans themselves. In order to speak to a cat at their moonstone, Starclan cats pressed their noses to them at the same time as their intended apprentice did.

Dawnhawk did as he was bid. He was calm and collected when he lie down and inched his nose closer to the Sunstone. At the very last moment before he was due to make contact, a single thought ran through his head.

You’re all a bunch of fools… Immediately… Copperfox’s voice entered his head just as he touched the stone.
We’re really not as dumb as you think, brother.

And then Dawnhawk as he knew himself vanished in a flash of light.

---

Falconmoon woke from his slumber with his heart racing, yet he couldn't move. For several moments what he'd just witnessed seemed too impossible to be real... but just a few moments later it started to sink in. They weren't dreams, they were memories. Falconmoon wasn't Falconmoon. I'm... I'm Dawnhawk. As if flipping a switch, that admission to himself brought forth a rushing torrent of confusing, conflicting emotions. Rage. Pain. Sadness. Fear. Loneliness. Hatred. Vengeance. He flicked his blue eyes over to the nearest cat in the medicine den, trying to not give away a single emotion.

It would be so easy to begin killing. They suspected nothing... at least no one in here. Bloodstrike was still a threat. The last threat. He had no real reason to suspect Spottedfrog, but he did remember seeing her that one day that he killed Wolfstar with Tarot over and over...

No! His mind suddenly shouted at him, as if it were another personality not his own. This isn't me anymore! I have a home! I have a family that loves me! I can't... I won't throw myself into that horrendous life I had before. I am Falconmoon! I'm not Dawnhawk! Another torrent of confusing, conflicting emotions rushed through him. Love. Happiness. Trust. Warmth. Protectiveness. Forgiveness. It was enough to make his eyes water. He closed them gently and pretended to be sleeping again.

Who am I?

For several moments, his thoughts slowed down and his brain quieted. His emotions stopped whirling around inside his chest in storm of confusion and conflict. He reflected back on his past life and the choices he made, whether he felt forced to make them or not. He compared it to the life he had now, which couldn't be any further from the opposite of what he'd previously experienced.

Would it really be worth it to throw away everything I have... just to kill some aging fool that is on his way out anyway? Would it be worth it to go through all of this trouble and heartbreak all over again just to hurt a few more members of Skyclan? He didn't even know for sure who he was anymore, but he was afraid to voice his experience to anyone. The last two times he'd been honest about his true identity it had ended in heartbreak, tragedy and rejection. He had a solid way to actually start fresh. He already had. Maybe he would just keep this a secret. Maybe he'd just tell everyone that his "dreams" were gone and that everything was back to normal.

Was it right to hide everything and lie? No, but he feared the consequences of the truth too much to say anything for now. Finally, Falconmoon stood up in his nest and stretched, putting on his best act to continue to be the cat that everyone thought he was.

"Well... if I dreamed I don't remember it. Thank you for trying." He thanked the medicine cats and exited the medicine den. His heart was racing despite his clam demeanor and his tired words.

Dark Forest... what am I to do now? He thought as he stepped into the brightness of sun high. He hoped and prayed that he would recieve no questioning until he completely wrapped his mind around this for himself. For the time being, he would be determined to stay as far away from his father... well... Bloodstrike as he possibly could.