Rosepaw's Moonstone Journey

Gently padding through the throng of apprentices, she approached a particularly mature looking one. Sparrowthorn gently tapped at Rosepaw's head, whispering, "Get up, finally time for your Moonstone."

As the moon had begun to rise into position, Sparrowthorn flicked her tail as she awaited Rosepaw's arrival. The travelling herbs were laid out, and she had already prepared her spiel. Sparrowthorn had already eaten her own, though Windclan hardly needed them. Living on the moors certainly had its perks, and the close nature of the Highstones was one of them. Easy communication with their ancestors, at least, when they felt like speaking.

Allowing Rosepaw to eat the herbs she had set out, Sparrowthorn beckoned her along the well-worn path to the Highstones. She could see the tension in the apprentice's form, the poorly hidden fear, the absence of excitement most usually had. "What's your problem?" Sparrowthorn asked, casting her gaze to the cat trailing slightly behind. "Starclan doesn't smite random cats at the Moonstone, if that's what you're afraid of." The ringing still came and went, but most of her clan's wounds had healed from the gathering.

Continuing their slow ascent, rocky soil began pricking at Sparrowthorn's paw pads, the surface rough from the eroded rock of the stones above. She was trying to become a better listener, since Batsong would be retiring sooner rather than later. Windclan would thrust their problems unto her whether she wanted them to, or not. At least she didn't have to talk if she listened.

Rosepaw swallowed Sparrowthorn's herbs, hardly needed for their short journey, without requiring an explanation. The warrior apprentice trailed behind gloomily as the pair of cats crossed over the familiar moor. Despite her mood, she huffed out a laugh at Sparrowthorn's question. "No, it's not that."

But it reminded Rosepaw, the lightning was odd. Even more odd, was the belief cats in the stars had the power to bestow nine lives and then strike the leaders down... but not protect the innocent.

The sky, the stars, were vast and powerful. But weren't the cats to the stars like ants, or even smaller, and the stars just visible as specks of light? The forest-dwelling cats believed the stars revolved around them ~ though, maybe, they revolved around the stars.

In this big, big world... why did the forest cats believe we are so important to anything but ourselves? Rosepaw had lived beyond the forest, but even here, there were so many living beings. The world grew infinitely big, or infinitely small, no matter whether she looked up or down.

The world was many things, including the cats of the forest clans, but the clans were not the world. The memory of those who had been before was maybe just that. Given too much power, when the lingering memories had no more wisdom or harmony to offer through death than through life.

The cats tried to explain what they did not understand but maybe it wasn't explainable. Rosepaw guessed not even the ancestors understood, or truly held all the power the living cats believed they did. Otherwise the clan of stars would be perfect and the world below would be perfect.

Rosepaw wanted to honour those who had lived this life, this tough life, before her. But to give that the belief of power over lightning, over the whole wide world, was too much.

A dream was just a dream. The forest was not the world but the world could be found in it. The world could be found everywhere. If it could not be, she never would have survived her lost seasons.

The earth was becoming rocky under paw. "I'm afraid of becoming a warrior," Rosepaw replied at last. She hesitated again, "I'm afraid I can't make that promise."

"To follow my leader's word, to fight with my life, and I see how that goes..." She took a deeper breath. "Flutterpetal told me he did it for the cats he cared about and now my friend is gone."

"I can't promise... on the hope anyone I care about will be beside me." Because when ~ when ~ she lost those she cared about, the fight and the promise would be lost, too. It was the hope of being beside the cats she loved, in the place she loved, that had carried her home. But that hope could not carry her any further. "So I don't know I can promise at all," she concluded quietly.

"Then don't promise for them." Sparrowthorn almost rolled her eyes, as if it were an obvious conclusion. "Promise for a reason that you believe you can hold on to for the rest of your days." The soil continued to grow rockier as they ascended closer to the entrance. "I promised as a warrior because I would do anything for my family, and if they're gone before I am, I can't say I'm sure what I'll do," she continued as pebbles rolled down the gentle slope. "When I promise to be Windclan's only medicine cat, I'll have to choose another reason. Something that is invulnerable to death and destruction. Can't be something alive. Then I can keep going no matter what."

Stopping, Sparrowthorn looked back, a weariness in her eyes she rarely showed. "Promise for the right reasons, or don't promise at all. Windclan will still accept you, or Stars above I'll just have to keep you in the Medicine Den forever if they don't. Surely I could find something for you to do." Gruffly, she turned back to continue padding along, the entrance growing closer every step. The moon was nearly at its apex, it'd be time soon.

The gruff medicine-cat apprentice resisting rolling her eyes made Rosepaw feel as close to comfort as she could get. Rosepaw considered her a friend and Sparrowthorn at least made the older apprentice realise she was not alone in searching for another reason.

She met her friend's unusually weary gaze with her own. "I hope I find the right reason," she replied, with as much firmness in her intention to do so as she could muster. She couldn't help but smile at the medicine-cat apprentice's willingness to resort to keeping Rosepaw in her own den. "That wouldn't be bad," a purr crept into her voice, "thank you."

She followed Sparrowthorn into the complete black of the entrance, more scared of what was back on the moors than what was down these tunnels. She felt her way through the darkness, following the well-worn path and Sparrowthorn's paw steps in front of her, whiskers brushing the sides of the tunnel. It opened out into a cavern with an opening in the roof that let in the moon's light, illuminating a stone in the centre with the same glow. Rosepaw joined the medicine-cat apprentice in laying down, nose pressed against it.
Rosepaw did not remember falling asleep. One moment she was talking to Sparrowthorn beside the moonstone and the next she was waking again.

Her cheek was still pressed to cold stone. When she raised her head, however, she saw she was on the edge of a stone-rimmed pond. From a pillar in the centre of it was springing a small waterfall. The wishing fountain, in the distant garden, was Rosepaw’s first thought.

But this pond was much smaller and stood high atop a thicker pillar, where Rosepaw’s sleeping form had perched. Looking around, she saw she was in the garden of a house. It was lushly over-grown with flowers, the scent of which mingled with the sweetness from old gnarled fruit trees.

The house itself was old, too, stone and tumbled-down, not appearing to be lived in by humans though it was mysteriously lit within. The soft tinkle of a silver bell called Rosepaw’s attention. A fluffy, red-furred she-cat with a mane bursting from under her purple collar was weaving her way through the flower beds below Rosepaw’s perch.

Her plumed tail raised in greeting and she leapt delicately up beside the warrior apprentice, with just enough space on the smooth stone edge of the pond for two cats. By the silky softness of her, she was a house-cat, but her graceful power was SkyClan. Flecks of light twinkled subtlety in her fur.

Rosepaw was silent and wonder-struck. The ephemeral she-cat met her gaze with leafy yellow-green eyes, sweet and strong and sad. “You are Rosepaw.” She swept her tail around herself comfortably. “I’m Persephone.”

“Are you from the clan of the stars?” Rosepaw asked softly. Her name was foreign to the apprentice’s sensitive ears.

“The clans, sometimes,” Persephone replied mysteriously, “and other times, I am here.”

She gestured with the plumed tip of her tail towards the house, where three more cats watched from a distance. “My mother, Sienna,” she indicated a honey-coloured queen; “My grandmother, Aida,” appearing much older at a healthy, grand old age; and “Phoebe, my daughter,” a heartbreakingly little kit, similarly golden and black-striped to Sienna so it surprised Rosepaw when Persephone added, “a foundling.” While Sienna waved her tail to Rosepaw cheerfully, the others simply peered curiously.

After a moment, Persephone finally shared, almost gravely, “But my father was wild. He was SkyClan.” She added, “I take after him in colour.” It was the beautiful blazing russet of fallen wind-drifting leaves.

Her large tough paws, harmless without claws, flexed in mild agitation. “And he, Redfall, took my siblings and I as soon as we were named ~ me, as Maplekit.” The sadness was audible in her voice, while she did not fully face Rosepaw but looked ahead.  “Two of us did not survive the journey to the forest. Not long after, I was taken again, that time by rogues.” Her voice commanded Rosepaw’s attention, not angry but strongly holding within it an immensity of emotion.

“The second time I was taken away somewhere which was not my home, I was not the only one, and I escaped with as many as shared my feelings. I found my way home.” She gestured around, “Here, where I chose to spend all the rest of my days.”

“I came home, too,” Rosepaw admitted quietly. Persephone was a reflection of Rosepaw, she thought, as her sleeping self tried to find a way through her confusion. She may as well be honest, then.

“But I have to make a difficult promise, I don’t know I can make.” She sighed, breathing in the fragrant quiet of the garden, the waterfall splashing softly at her paws. “I lived in peace like you, once. But my heart called me back to my home, too. To WindClan, but I’m not really sure why anymore.”

The words rushed out of Rosepaw like the spring of the waterfall into the pond before the two cats. “There’s war. Cats are dying. How can I promise to protect this home, this way of life?” Persephone eyed her inscrutably.

“You tell me. Why are you there?” Rosepaw opened her mouth but the ephemeral fiery-furred she-cat stopped her. “Not the reasons you’ve lost ~ not your disappointed ideals, or the death of one dear to you, or the reduction of your world to borders ~” Her pelt sparked as if with embers. “What do you care about, now?”

Rosepaw blinked her single golden eye, welling with pain and indignation. “I ~” she choked, and swallowed it all down like bitter herbs, and took a breath. “Nectarflower told me she might be expecting,” she began, not meeting Persephone’s gaze, but cautious optimism lighted her voice. “Sootstorm’s litter are almost apprentices,” a smile had come to her face now. “Kits are popping up with the awoken flowers.”

Maybe her promise wasn’t to any specific cat, or place, or way of living, maybe it was always moving. “There’s always more WindClan and what we are is always changing.” So, there was no way to cling to a solid hope but maybe there was no way to lose hope altogether either. She did not know if it would be enough.

Persephone spoke it, “A promise to life itself?” It was a question, not the answer. She seemed to be satisfied, but added both gently and firmly, “If you make the promise of a warrior, you must do so willingly.” It echoed Sparrowthorn’s words. Rosepaw supposed a dream couldn’t tell her more than was already there.

“I made my choice in life, but it’s only now that I know I will forever live in all, and it's only now that I do not give up on the clans. Know you will always have a paw in more than one world, Rosepaw, and do not stay if you do not want to. You should keep your promise just as willingly as you make it.” Persephone blinked fondly at Rosepaw. A breeze rippled the ephemeral she-cat’s red fur, and whipped the surrounding flowers into a blur.

“The wind is rising, Rosepaw… you must try to live!” Persephone called.

Distantly, Rosepaw could feel the cold of the swirling air seeping all the way into her bones. She felt herself lifted up as well. Persephone waved her tail in farewell from the garden below. Rosepaw tried to keep watching the she-cat, bright like a flame... to realise she was now seeing just the red behind her own closed eye. The dream had disappeared.
Rosepaw blinked awake in the dimming light of the moonstone. The moon was beginning to slide down from its peak above the cavern, and across the sky beyond, into the unseen distant horizon. “Sparrowthorn, I’m awake.” Her single eye adjusted to the dark again and she could make out the small brown tabby nearby. Rosepaw stretched her stiff muscles, shaking out her wispy rosy fur. Her large tufted ears were set a little happier. But she was still unsure and for the moment befuddled with sleep. “It was a nice dream,” was all she could manage to say. “Let’s go back.”