we reached our natural conclusion; outlived the illusion [S]

Birdstar didn't know when she found herself in StarClan. The last she could remember, she was settling into her nest on the heels of twilight. Sleep had tugged her into its depths surprisingly fast. And now... Birdstar performed a slow turn, taking in her surroundings. Eternal purple dusk; starlight nestled within the bobbing heads of the tall reeds shooting up amidst the grass; a quietly chattering river, much like the one that separated SkyClan from their former allies, glittering with twice as many stars than the grasses. A deep wrinkle set into the bridge of Birdstar's muzzle. There was no doubt that she stood in the realm of her ancestors. But why did they call her here? Was there word of Hemlockfox--of the war? Was there more tragedy in SkyClan's future? Had she lost a life in her sleep? Birdstar spat at the irony that her body would fail only after the cough left her lungs. But there was no ailment that could kill her: no sickness, no self-imposed starvation. StarClan's utopia became crawlingly eerie with no known motive behind the summons.

With no other directive, Birdstar began to move closer to the water. Before she could even reach the bank, the reeds beside her stirred and a small figure stepped out to impede her path forward. Her ears slicked back immediately on taking in the cat before her. Though Birdstar had never seen the medicine cat as she appeared now--ears tattered, face crossed with scars and forelegs mangled with them--she was unrecognizable. "Cloverheart," Birdstar regarded coolly. Of course, it was her that came to wait.. Bitterly, Birdstar thought she had more lives to lose before having to face the RiverClanner again. Seeing her now... already, Cloverheart's unforgiving glare made her fur crawl.

"Is that all you have to say?" The medicine cat snorted. As always, her derision was clear. Birdstar ground her teeth in an effort to keep from wincing. "Now would be a good time to start explaining yourself. You're welcome, by the way, because I doubt you would without being told." Birdstar's tail snapped left and right. From the night of her ceremony, Cloverheart had decided Birdstar would inherit her mother's sins. How could she hope for vindication from a cat who hated her for the unchosen act of her birth? She couldn't even justify herself to those she once regarded as friends. The demand was nothing more than a trap. Cloverheart just wanted to hear the story repeated to rile herself up. Birdstar shook out her coat to keep it from bristling and puffed,

"Would you bother hearing a word I say?" The question made Cloverheart's ears swivel backwards. Birdstar felt some undeserved smugness at seeing her recoil, surprise breaking through her usual veneer of spite. Eyes narrow, she went on, "You would know if I tried to lie, and you would skin me for trying. You'll skin me for the truth. What could I say that won't have me punished regardless?"

The bark of contempt so signature to her suddenly broke out of Cloverheart's chest. "Not even an attempt? Honestly?" Her auburn tail whipped, rattling the rushes she'd stalked out of. Birdstar's lip curled. This was the same as her interaction with Mottlestar. She took a step back, an action instantly taken in vain as Cloverheart advanced in pursuit. Not aggressively, not really: she moved no faster than she needed to to keep pace. And she was small, too; she'd died a medicine cat. Birdstar shook her head. She didn't need to search Cloverheart for weaknesses. This was StarClan: even if the medicine cat grew hostile, no real harm could come to her here. To either of them. Birdstar pushed out a breath, trying to expel the cornered feeling that shook through her nerves. Still, despite her attempts at calming, her claws flexed as she backed away, grasping at the semi-solid earth to ground herself by digging through it.

"Then fine. I didn't want to hear a word, anyway." With that seemingly final spit, Cloverheart moved suddenly closer and rose onto the very tips of her pads. Birdstar blinked several times, taken aback by the sudden invasion of her face; worsened, when the smaller she-cat stretched out her neck. Birdstar could only contribute her stooping to meet the gesture as an act of will affected on her by Cloverheart, not one of her own volition. Just before their noses would properly meet, the medicine cat spoke again, her voice low: "Due to your mistreatment of its virtues, as well as the very cat who gave it to you, we--I, personally--rescind from you the life of justice."

Cloverheart leaned in to complete the gesture, but Birdstar backpedaled before contact was made. "What?!" She barked, hackles rising and tail whipping wildly. "You can't do that!" Trying to protest only earned another vile laugh out of the dead medicine cat. The response made Birdstar's lip curl, her claws flexing deeper into the dissipating sand.

"If I can't do that, then why am I here?" Cloverheart retorted. Birdstar's ears pressed back.

"But I haven't- I haven't misused anything!" She was appalled. Birdstar knew leaders could forfeit their lives, or they could be stripped in odd cases like Bloodstrike and Briarthorn; and StarClan certainly had no qualms about punishing their living kin for minor slights, but... This?!

"Did you lose your memory when I pulled you here? Have you forgotten the war headed for SkyClan?" Birdstar felt like her pelt was on fire. Why did everyone insist on talking to her like she was a kit? "Is that what you call justice? Lying for the entirety of your leadership, coddling murderers? Not only coddling one, but taking the neck out of any that inconvenience you."

"QUIET!" Birdstar bellowed. Did she see Cloverheart smirk at that? "Who are you to decide where my justice lies? You know nothing of SkyClan." It was her turn to advance. Only as her lumbering paws drove her forward did she realize Cloverheart hadn't moved from the spot she'd been abandoned. "You know nothing of my family. Not our home. Not our values." If ever the sun properly rose in StarClan, Birdstar was certain her long shadow would swallow the medicine cat whole. She dwarfed Cloverheart already, but it was especially noticeable when she stood at full height, ruff and tail fully bristled. That Cloverheart remained unflinching only agitated her more. "My justice stands with and for them. I'm sorry you must not be able to understand that."

"That's just the problem," Cloverheart sighed. She looked passingly sad before the usual heat returned. Birdstar was brought abruptly to heel when their noses were shoved together. All the fire that had been tearing through her fur went skin deep, now; then muscle; bone; vein, artery, nerve. No part of her was left unburnt. The pain was worse than that of receiving the life, worse than the real deaths she'd suffered. It was beyond her fragile comprehension. Birdstar's jaw, which had been slack and panting, locked tightly shut. Cloverheart's touch followed her as her body gave in to the pain and sank to the ground. If she weren't already caught in this liminal space, she would wish for unconsciousness. Everything was numbing, turning her vision to empty black. Birdstar didn't even notice when the medicine cat receded; not until the harshest waves of pain ebbed as well, and she could blink her leaking eyes and look up.

Cold green stared down at her. After several moments of struggling to swallow any breaths she could and fighting to ease the shake out of her limbs enough to stand, Birdstar finally gathered herself. She rocked precariously as she picked herself up, taking another minute or two to ensure her paws were steady. When they were, she blinked away the collecting tears and looked squarely at Cloverheart. "You never would have done this," Birdstar paused to spit, mouth thick with the sensation of pooled blood even though there was none, "if Perchstar herself hadn't found out. You've known the whole time. Why wait, if this is so grievous to you?"

Cloverheart shrugged curtly. "I can't bring you to account on RiverClan's behalf if they don't know. That's beyond my interference." Then she did grin again, clearly this time, a wry little curl to her maw. Birdstar grimaced back.

"Your justice is as flawed as mine," she muttered. Cloverheart's ears twitched curiously. "Beechfang isn't scouring the border looking for fresh RiverClan blood to roll in. We just wanted her to live the rest of her life in peace. She's atoned."

"So it doesn't matter that she took my life at all?" Cloverheart was lifting up again. Birdstar turned away. She'd tried to explain this before. Lack of nuance must have been rich in the riverwater. But even though she spun on her heels, Cloverheart was in front of her again: wherever Birdstar tried to turn, the medicine cat stepped to fill her sight. Her pelt started to rise again, tired heart dragging itself up into overtime. She had the feeling even closing her eyes wouldn't shield her from the divine presence. "Just because there weren't more to follow? Just because you think there won't be?" Cloverheart scoffed. "I thought you all learned from your uncle? Haven't you even used him as an example?"

Wasn't this enough? Birdstar understood! She knew her transgressions. The life had already been taken. Must she remain here just to be berated? To listen to idiotic, belligerent ghosts spit about her kin?

"But if guilt--and penance--are about the numbers, then shouldn't you have let your sister live?" There, and there, and there again; Birdstar couldn't escape her leering. "Maybe a year rotting in twolegplace would change her. It worked wonders for your mother." No conscious thought drove Birdstar's body forward. Nerves sparked and her muscles flexed to obey the triggered instinct. She couldn't stand the spinning and the hissing and the---

One large forepaw struck out, aiming a heavy blow for Cloverheart's head. Her pads met the shape of the small skull; Birdstar knew her paw connected, but... Cloverheart's features didn't give. She didn't topple. The structure of her body just... rippled around Birdstar's paw, splitting to allow passage through the space briefly occupied before reconstituting, unbothered. Birdstar staggered back, blinking in surprise at the sight. Another step back. Cloverheart didn't bother chasing her any longer.

That sad look entered the medicine cat's eyes again; heavier now, and lingering. As if she could forget her hatred long enough to pity Birdstar. The expression was worse than any look of wrath. Birdstar felt like a fledgling spilled on the ground, wings broken from the impact. Easy prey to pick off, but a sorry thing to kill.

"Alright," Cloverheart sighed, betraying the same defeat as her eyes. "You knew from the start I didn't have any faith in you. But at some point, I really thought you would prove me wrong." Her head drooped briefly; then, when Cloverheart looked up again, fire had returned to her eyes. "Every drop of SkyClan blood that will be spilled stains your paws. If battle doesn't, then I hope guilt claims your final life."

The pain was back again--tenfold, thousandfold. Birdstar could feel herself tilting out of StarClan, if only because she was tilting out of consciousness, and that could only mean a return to reality. Cloverheart's voice echoed one last time through the sink. "I hope I never worry about finding you in StarClan."

From then, it was impossible to tell where dream ended and reality began again. Was her body spasming because she thrashed in a fight to cling to life? Or was it the tumult of being thrown from the realm of Silverpelt's court? It was unending. Flashes of vision broke through the sheet of blinding agony: dark walls, purple light, spots of blood--gold light haloing unrecognizable figures. Flickers of StarClan again, life-granters, gone before any exchange. All of it was too fast to process. In the time it took for her eyes to take in anything, Birdstar was dying again. Over and over, he body thrashed, long claws digging rivets into the hard earth beneath her. Pink-tinged froth spilled from between her clenched teeth, colored by the blood that rose from biting her tongue. There was no more sadistic fate that could be assigned than to suffer the repeated, brutal agony of dying with no pause between them.

And then it was done. The added fonts of vitality were all stripped from her.

Yellowy dawn light spilled in through the mouth of Birdstar's den. When she finally forced her eyes open, she could hardly see: everything spun radically, and even if the world sat still, it was all smeared together like mud. The scattered bones of an old mouse, brushed into a corner, were the first thing to sharpen into focus. The scent of blood stuck in her nose, and Birdstar could taste it, too, leaking from her swollen tongue. Her cheek fur was half-dry and sticky with the spit that spilled from her mouth. Birdstar hadn't the energy to move at all except for the erratic rise and fall of her flanks. Residual pain still rippled through her; intense, beyond sickening, but not so bad as it was in the state of heightened lucidity.

Wide-eyed, she stared hollowly at the opposite wall of her den. A singular life stripped at personal determination. Six of them removed for a slight that carried no real harm.

Her shallow breaths grew more frantic. This was Perchstar's campaign against her and her Clan; it wasn't even Mottlestar's, though their Clans had become more violently tangled than ever in recent moons. No-- StarClan waged this war. Their ancestors had abandoned all faith in SkyClan, all good-will toward them. They set them up for this war, scripted these events specifically to punish them. Birdstar was certain of it. After untold generations of worship, StarClan repaid them with scorn. Disavowment. Malice. What sin ran in SkyClan's blood that encouraged such rejection?

Again, Birdstar wheezed. Fine! More spittle dribbled between her teeth. If their own icons saw her as wretched and thought she led a Clan of ilk, then there was no worth in trying to be anything else.

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