Stoatpaw's Moonstone Journey

Quailfeather waited eagerly for her next chance to speak with someone. Much as she loved running circles around her enormous family here in the stars, there was a warmth and energy that nothing but mortality held. Stars knew it had been long enough since she'd been down there, filled with that much youth and vigor. She'd died as a tired old elder, too mangled to even make it out of her den before the flood swept in and filled her lungs. But that had been long ago. She was here to speak to the living about the living, not about the dead. And boy... what an interesting apprentice she had to speak with, today. It was kind of StarClan not to give her someone boring. Stoatpaw was very, very interesting. They had a few similarities--the children of leadership, full of strength and vigor, full of pride, headstrong, ambitious, upset with how life didn't give them what they wanted. But that ambition seemed to be consuming Stoatpaw from the inside out, rather than guiding him upward to improvement. Hopefully she could help redirect his path, if even slightly.

The starry echo in which she waited for him to awaken was a mirror copy of WindClan's territory below--perhaps slightly different, with a few hills lower or higher, from the gradual eroding of sediments during the years since her death. But the sun shone down with the warmth of greenleaf, waking him with a gentle light that would hopefully help soothe a little bit. Sitting atop the highest hill was a tall, lithe form. A StarClan cat. A warrior. She appeared as she had in her prime: thin light gray fur, with one dark stripe down her spine and bengal speckles along her back, one white paw and the tip of her tail. Dark ears, long whiskers framing a confident tabby-striped face. Sky-blue eyes shone with life when they met Stoatpaw's--despite the fact that the stars set deep in her pelt indicated that she had not been alive, not for quite some time. "Hey there," she said warmly when he arrived. "The name's Quailfeather. I was the son of Smokepelt, deputy of WindClan--which made Ashstar, the leader, my grandmother. But that was ages ago. It's nice to meet you, Stoatpaw."

Well, this one was polite, if nothing else. Quailfeather grinned at Stoatpaw, her thin tail waving behind her. Hopefully the courtesy wasn't just surface-level... because the advice she had to give might be a little bit difficult to swallow. "The reason I brought that up wasn't so that you'd respect me more, or anything. It was mostly to show you that I know what I'm talking about. I've been in the places you have; I've experienced some similar feelings. So this advice comes from a place of care, but also a place of knowledge." Now... how to phrase this? Stars knew she didn't want to sound preachy. "Having cats who are close to you also be figures of power is... complicated. On one paw you love them and want them to succeed, and respect them like nothing else. But on the other paw, you see how their responsibilities tear them away from you, and you wish you could have that much more of their attention and focus. It's hard not to feel neglected, sometimes. And it's okay to feel that way. You just need to not let it consume you." Easier said than done, she thought to herself bitterly, remembering when her father had nearly decided to kill her brother on a power trip. No wonder he and her sister had gone to become kittypets. Stars... she missed Ryecloud and Kindleblaze. She blinked the thought away, though, and returned to her current purpose. Giving advice.

"That's not all, though. When your father's the deputy, you see how well he's doing... but you also see the mistakes he makes." The selfishness, the loss of self in power, the pride that puffed up in Smokepelt's chest when he'd gone unchallenged for so long. Quailfeather's tail lashed once behind her. "You see the mistakes. And since you see them from up close, you think to yourself... I could do better. And that's a dangerous line of thinking." Light blue eyes pierced into Stoatpaw's gaze, considering him carefully. She saw a lot of herself in him. Too much. Hopefully he would listen. "Is it possible, that you could do better? Perhaps--but every cat has flaws. You may be able to see your father's flaws, but you're often blind to your own. The leader is ultimately in charge. If Tigerstar did not think Sootstorm was worthy, he would demote him--and the word of the leader is law. Don't let yourself get too inflated with pride and ambition. Ambition can be good. You want to serve your Clan, and there's nothing wrong with that. But don't get caught up in the trap of thinking you could do better. That path leads nowhere good. If the time comes that you get power, then you'll get it. Otherwise, you might spend your entire life as just a warrior of WindClan. Learn to accept that reality. Then if you ever become more, it can be a pleasant surprise rather than an inevitability. I was a warrior and an elder, but never a deputy--and that was okay. Could I have done better than Brindlestar? Maybe, but I didn't, and so I wasn't." Looking at Stoatpaw, she realized it wasn't just herself she was seeing reflected. It was also Laurelsong. Her daughter, so bright and skilled and ambitious, who'd flown too far from the sun... and who now had been cast down to eternal darkness. Her daughter that she would never see again. Quailfeather's expression remained serious as she looked down at the apprentice before her. "Know your limits, as well as the limits imposed on you, and accept them. Do you understand?"