Sweetpaw's warrior ceremony

She had been struggling quite more, but this was a ceremony that she wanted-no, needed to conduct. Pulling herself to her paws, the tortoiseshell called out. "Let all those... of Thunderclan... Clan meeting!" She exhaustedly called, having to lay back down after she called out.

She’d had a lot more space to herself in her nest since Larkpaw had gone missing, and the young molly wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. Was she supposed to be sad that her sister hadn’t returned? Or perhaps angry that she’d gone off on an adventure without her? Well, whatever she was meant to feel she’d do so after this clan meeting. Hopefully today would be the day that she finally earned her warrior name and the apprentice couldn’t wait to become a warrior. No more being looked down upon as a weak little apprentice, no more lame chores; she would become such a strong fighter and show her father that she didn’t need him or anyone else to become an amazing warrior!

"Larkpaw… you’re such a mousebrain. I bet you wish you could be here today, huh?" Sweetpaw mumbled to herself under her breath with her ears pinned back against her head as she sat down near the front of the crowd. Looking towards Mottlestar, she flicked her tail back and forth in anticipation as she awaited the leader’s next words.

The face that looked at her in the crowd morphed into her daughter. Of Rosethorn, sweet Rosethorn, who had left their world much too soon. Perhaps she would have been the one to stubbornly brute-force the forest into behaving as it should. But as she thought she saw the warrior, it instead morphed into the slightly different face of her granddaughter. Sweetpaw. Right. The reason she assembled the Clan.

Gasping for air as she spoke her next words, she rasped. "Sweetpaw... You have trained hard. Hard as any mighty warrior, so you deserve your name. Come forward, Sweetpaw. Will you protect Thunderclan, even at the cost of your life?"

Hearing her name called, Sweetpaw made her way even closer to her sickly leader. How was Mottlestar even leading in such a miserable state? Well, she supposed someone had to keep chaos from ensuing more than it already had. Of course, to the young apprentice, Mottlestar leading them even while she was so ill proved even more why she was the leader. Perhaps she might be in the tortoiseshell’s paws someday, only time would tell.

Meeting Mottlestar’s tired gaze, her eyes blazing with excitement, she listened intently to the words spoken. ”Of course I do!” she exclaimed matter-of-factly, being sure to hold herself tall as she spoke.

Warmth registered in the tortoiseshell's gaze at her granddaughter's affirmation. How she willed the stars would grant benevolence and give her health, further health to be able to be the grandmother and leader she should be. But at the moment, she had such little energy, and she wanted the molly in front of her to have the name she deserved.

"Then, you shall be known as Sweetheart. You have that heart... just like your mother." Warmth shone on her features as she looked upon the new-warrior, dipping her head. It may have stayed at her paws for just a moment too long, but eventually it rose. Fighting off the dizziness that came with it, the tortoiseshell mustered her strength to yowl. "Thunderclan! Welcome your new warrior, Sweetheart!"

Holding her head high as Mottlestar spoke once more, the apprentice was beaming with excitement, that was, until her new name hit her ears.

“What?!” the apprentice yowled in a high-pitched, flabbergasted sort of way. Sweetheart? What kind of name was that? There was no way that this was actually her new name, she must’ve been hearing things. But, as the clan began to chant to her by her new title, the mink-furred molly’s pelt grew hot and her hackles began to bristle as she realized that this was in fact the name she’d been assigned to.

Marching her way closer to Mottlestar with bared teeth, she ignored her clanmates that had begun to come over to congratulate her. “Sweetheart? Was this dad’s idea?” she spoke angrily to the leader without hesitation, her tone filled with confusion and anger. “I can’t be named that… I want a cooler name!” the newly named warrior whined. So be it if she got punished for questioning her leader at her own ceremony, she wasn’t about to not put up a fight about this, seeing as though it would affect her for the rest of her life.

Mottlestar's ears pinned directly backwards the moment her newly-named warrior yowled. Tears burned in her eyes, hot and angry. Yet again did the face of her daughter come into view. It was exactly the sort of sass she had feared from Rosethorn on her warrior day. Quietly, oh so quietly, Mottlestar whimpered. "I-I'm sorry..." I'm sorry Rosie. Could she change the name? She didn't know what to.

As leader, she should have had more hold on her emotions. But there was so much unresolved in the tortoiseshell's heart. She hadn't had time to grieve her daughter's death. Had no time to process the events with Skyclan, or even just what they had done before illness rendered her nearly unconscious. Sneezing, and with more tears pouring down her face, the tortoiseshell's head fell towards the ground. "Rosie... For y-her."

There was some relief that came with Sweetheart getting her warrior name, in that while she shared her mothers looks, she didn't share the lack of want of being a warrior. The smile on her face never faded even as she dragged her paws forward to nudge against her nieces shoulders. It would seem her father still hadn't bothered to do the bare minimum in teaching his remaining child some manners. Annoying, yes. But all she could do was sigh in an attempt to not raise her delicate blood pressure. "Perhaps you should try earning a different name. Though it should already be an honor to have your own grandmother - leader of ThunderClan - to grant you the opportunity of even having one." A russet paw came up to box one of Sweetheart's ears, doing her best not to knock her upside the head in doing so.

Olive green eyes lingered on the tears that had begun to pool in her mothers eyes, Firefly knowing full well how hurtful her niece had just been whether it was intentional or not. Not only had Rosethorn's death been recent and heavy on their hearts, her mottled mother held even greater burdens that even the smallest of pushes could break her back. Stepping in front of Sweetheart, her eyes locked onto the young warriors. "You and I need to have a talk. Now."

Crocusfrost's had the new warrior's name on her tongue, about to chant with the rest of her clanmates when Sweetheart's voice broke any cheer that there was. Crocus stood from where she sat and watched as Firefly delivered a swift swipe of the ears, but Crocusfrosts anger simmered, sparking at the sheer ungratefulness that was the new warrior's name. Coming to a stop behind Firefly, Crocusfrosts teeth peeled back to reveal dangerously large canines and incisors, large molars that connected and gnashed together like they were sharpened with every clash of her jaws whenever she chewed on bones, flesh, and sinew. The feral she-cats tongue flicked out and flashed across her teeth, cleaning dribbles of saliva from her lips. Fury was an understatement.

A low growl rumbled from her throat, slowly growing in intensity as she glowered down at Sweetheart. "Yes. A talk." Crocusfrost said, clipped in her agreement with what Firefly said. The intensity only continued for a heartbeat before the vitriol that made the she-cats yellow eyes acidic and sour suddenly broke as the young she-cat broke the stare and postering as she turned and swiftly padded to Mottlestar's side. Crocusfrost had to crouch as deep as she could to nuzzle her mentors cheek and giving a few large licks across her cheek and brow.

The wind was nowhere to be seen, and yet Silverpaw was swaying heavily as she sat amongst the gathered cats. She had unsheathed her claws, using them as an actor to stop herself from falling over. Their green eyes watched unfocused as the ceremony continued. Silverpaw should not have come, but she had a duty to her clan one that no illness would take from her. Their bushy tail was curled around their flank, hiding the wound from Brightpaw, that reveal could wait and certainly she would not wish to derail Sweetpaw’s ceremony, even if the young she-cat had a less than stellar opinion of their clanmate. An opinion that decreased further with the conclusion of the ceremony. Silverpaw’s lips curled back in distaste, and she dug her claws further into the dirt. Their silver pelt bristled, fur raising along her nape, as they narrowed their eyes on Sweetheart. However she knew better than to speak out, Crocusfrost already had that covered and Silverpaw knew Crocusfrost could easily handle the new warrior. She nodded towards Crocusfrost mouthing “Oh, she needs more than a talk.”

Watching as Mottlestar began to sob, the newly named Sweetheart was unsure of what to do. She hadn't intended to make Mottlestar cry... but still! Leaders shouldn't be so emotional, right? Perhaps it was her sickness that was causing her to be so sensitive.

Opening her maw to say something, she quickly shut it as her aunt swiftly swiped her ear. Pinning her tufted ears against her head, she grumbled under her breath as she was reprimanded. Firefly was more than experienced warrior, especially with her awesome battle scar, and she always knew what she was talking about. Of course, being named Sweetheart wasn't any sort of honor, so she had that part wrong, that was for sure.

Rolling her eyes as the russet warrior told her they needed to have a talk, a nearby voice caused the fluffy she-cat to audibly hiss. Snapping her gaze around she spotted Crocusfrost, more like Grossestfrost. "Stay in your lane, porky," Sweetheart spat maliciously in the direction of Crocusfrost. She'd never been a fan of those ferals, thinking they could come into their clan and tell them what to do and hunt their prey. Just who did they think they were? Well, she'd let them know a piece of her mind later. For now, she had other issues to attend to. Sticking her tongue out at Silverpaw, she began to trot after Firefly, her ears still flat against her head and her muscles tense.


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Smacking his forehead against the trunk of a tree he was sitting next to (in a facepalm sort of fashion) and letting out a long sigh, Curlyfluff watched as chaos ensued. His daughter had managed to make Mottlestar cry and while part of his was ready to go out among the crowd and scold her, he stopped as Firefly beat him to it. Doing his best to hear what was being said, his ears twitched at Firefly's words. A "talk?" What was she up to? Well, he'd just have to see for himself, he supposed. Keeping his distance, he slowly followed after the pair, curious as to what she russet warrior was planning.