you will change, says the stars to the moon (c)

Every day, it became harder and harder to keep her thoughts clear. Perchstar had been hungry before--she had even been starving, self-inflicted by days of hard work and little care for herself. But never before had she been this thirsty. The lack of water parching her throat, keeping it scratchy and dry and making it feel like sharp claws raked her mouth whenever she swallowed, was a new and unpleasant sensation. Combining that with the starvation that every member of her Clan was dealing with and the even-harsher workload that she now took upon herself, it was a wonder that the leader could even move a muscle. But move she did, for every cat other than herself. She was needed. She would always be needed. There was no time, no opportunity for her to stop. She had to keep going, so she did. It was as simple as that. She had never had any other option.

A little while ago, Cinderpaw had asked to speak with her. Perchstar had told her that she would be free in a few hours. She wished she could have sat down with her apprentice right then and asked what her worries were, but there were patrols to organize and mentors to speak with and a hundred other things that were pulling her away. Now she'd managed to claw time out of her schedule, and as she walked up, ignoring the way her muscles protested even at the simple movement, she noticed how Cinderpaw's eyes were drooping. Drowsiness caused by sheer exhaustion. Alarms went off in the back of her mind. She'd been considering a mouthful of food for herself, but seeing the way that the she-cat's eyelids fluttered and jerked made the idea dissipate into thin air. Quickly the leader perused the near-empty fresh-kill pile, managing to find half the carcass of a bird--mostly feathers and bones, but still a few scraps of meat--left in the corner. She took it in her mouth, ignored the way it made saliva begin to spring up behind her tongue, and then laid it gently in front of Cinderpaw.

"I'm here to talk," the leader said. Her voice was as calm and neutral as ever, but it bore a rough, hoarse edge that spoke to the lack of water they were all suffering from. Despite the exhaustion, she was able to keep a straight back and regal figure as she sat down by her apprentice. Only hours of practice made her capable of movement at all. "Here, eat. I've had some already." A lie. She had lives to spare--Cinderpaw did not. It was as simple as that. But there was no need for the gentle-hearted apprentice to know that. "What is on your mind? I know that everything is... difficult, right now. But know I am always here for you."

Stubborn as always. Perchstar acquiesced with a very small bite of the bird, ignoring how she wanted to devour the entire thing, and then pushed the rest towards Cinderpaw. Her ears were swiveled forward, giving her apprentice full attention. All thoughts of thirst and starvation were pushed away. Her struggles were irrelevant. Then finally, Cinderpaw spoke again. Perchstar felt a tug on her heart, as if it were being yanked out of her chest. Vulnerability, honesty. A difficult first step. But the apprentice had taken it. Admitting fear was the first step to conquering it. Perchstar had dealt with feelings of anxiety and impostor syndrome for most of her life--but not quite the type of constant fear that Cinderpaw confessed. Still, she had experienced fear. Fear that she wouldn't get back home when she was stranded. Fear that those she cared for would die... and some had. Hopefully, her advice would help.

"It's all right to be scared," Perchstar said softly. There was not an ounce of judgement in the clear blue of her eyes. She spoke calmly, but not unkindly. "Everyone experiences fear sometimes. Even I fear things." Vulnerability was difficult for her too--but if Cinderpaw could be brave, then so could she. "I fear terrible things happening to my kits. To my apprentices. To my friends. To my entire Clan. Sometimes, my fears are even proved right. But if I spent my entire life listening to my fears, then I wouldn't be able to protect those that I loved." Her tail swayed slowly behind her. "There are terrible things in the world, and sometimes bad things will happen to you. But bravery is not the absence of fear. Bravery is pushing past fear. It is feeling scared, and then doing it anyway. I was terrified of becoming leader, but I went to the Moonstone and did so anyway. I am afraid sometimes that I am leading my Clan to ruin, or that they all secretly loathe me. But I continue with my daily responsibilities and I am rewarded with the love and loyalty that many give me." One white paw moved forward, resting on top of Cinderpaw's. "Whether or not you ever feel ready, ready you will be. I promise you, Cinderpaw, that you are worthy. No matter the fears you have, if you push forward, then that will be enough. It is okay if you are the second on the patrol to lunge into battle. It is okay if you hesitate. So long as your intent is true, so will you be. I will never think any less of you."

Perchstar considered the words carefully. There wasn't an easy answer... she dearly wished that there was. Some of these were issues that she'd struggled with for her entire tenure. Instead, she gave a slow blink of understanding. "Well... whether I do my job well is a matter of some debate," she commented, trying to sound as if the thought of her being a bad leader was not one that haunted her every step. "But I am far from perfect. All that I can do is my best. I have to come to peace with that, or it will destroy me. Sometimes I do make mistakes. Sometimes I fail, and fail badly. But all that I can do when that happens is pick myself up and try again." All the cats who went missing from RiverClan and never returned. Poppyshine's maiming. Cloverheart's murder. She contained the shiver that wanted to run down her spine. "Because if I do anything else, then I will have failed. But if I keep learning and push forward, then I can try and fix any mistakes. If I get lost in the past, then who will lead? Who will clear up my mistakes if not me?"

The leader shook her head. It was a heavy burden, but Cinderpaw asked for advice, not for her life story. "If you make a mistake, then you are no worse than any other cat who has ever lived. I assure you that no perfect cat exists. Every warrior hesitates sometimes. Every warrior fails sometimes. What will separate you from the rest is if you are able to pick yourself back up and try again. Does a kit give up learning to walk because they fell once? No, they get back on their feet and continue learning. Even if the unthinkable happens... and it has happened to me. Cats have... have died due to my mistakes. Or things that I could have prevented." One breath in, one breath out. Calm. Neutral. Detached. Her eyes remained clear. "Even if the unthinkable happens, then you improve. You take what you have learned and you continue. You confide in those who care for you how you feel, and they give you the courage to stand back up and try again. I will not lie and say life is easy, because you know it is not. Life is difficult. But no matter how low the valleys of grief and despair, how dark the world may sometimes seem, the sun will always rise again. I promise you. The moments of brightest happiness when you stand atop the sky and look down at the world will always make everything else worth it." Perchstar had never learned how to smile. But she tried to let reassurance temper her deep, stoic voice. She wanted to help Cinderpaw feel better. Light blue eyes, which always looked like ice, seemed half-melted from the warmth she could not truly express. "And you will have that happiness, Cinderpaw. I promise."