Nightpaw's Moonstone Journey

Nightpaw sniffed at the herbs, wanting to ask about each and every one of them the same way he might cautiously ask Silverhawk about each prey-scent he picked up in the marsh - but his anxiety kept him quiet, butterflies swimming in his stomach at the prospect of...well, everything. The idea of speaking with a real StarClan cat, the prospect of trying to make small talk on the journey there, and what the Moonstone journey meant - it was all too much. Was he really on the path to become a warrior? Did he deserve that? He'd never caught a single piece of prey, no matter how long he and Silverhawk were out on the marsh. And while he'd sparred (though it took some convincing), he hadn't done well. Not by a long shot.

He didn't deserve this. But he lapped up the herbs, trying not to show his dismay at the taste, and raised his head to look back up at Heatherberry. Nightpaw scarcely knew the medicine cat, but she...seemed friendly enough, at least. Still, he couldn't voice his doubts. Could he? Would she tell Leopardstar? As much as he didn't want his name, he just wanted his training to be over.

"I'm ready. I..." The small tuxedo blinked, trying to hide the sigh in his voice and apprehension in his gaze. He studied her with anxious emerald eyes, as though wondering if he could trust her - but after a moment, he seemed to decide against it. Something in her facade seemed off. "Nevermind. I'm ready. Let's go."

He hated the way she was looking at him. It was the same way that the whole Clan seemed to look at him - as though he had done something wrong, or they were just counting the heartbeats until he did. Nightpaw shrunk in on himself, ears flicking back almost on reflex. It was as though, when they looked him in the eye - on the rare occasions they did - his Clanmates could only see his namesake looking back at them. Never him. Never Nightpaw. 

He flexed his claws, staving back feelings of anger and dispondence. He wasn't even Nightstalker's kin! Maybe he happened to look like him, but he would never...Nightpaw glanced at Heatherberry, trying to hide his disappointment. He'd known she would be just like the others. He'd just...hoped it would be different. Especially since she wasn't a warrior.

So he didn't say a word, content to let the silence hang over them, heavy and burdensome. His thoughts hung heavy, weighing him down. Was it normal, to feel like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders from such a young age? He couldn't think of a single time he'd felt carefree, even as a kit. And then Heatherberry broke the silence.

He could sense her trying to lighten the mood, an obvious playfulness to her tone, but there was still something odd behind her words. Almost as though she was testing him. A sigh ruffled his chest fur as he tried to push back his irritation. Couldn't she leave this journey in peace? It was so much easier not to talk. But her words were intriguing. "You make it sound like you have a lot of secrets," the ruddy tom joked weakly, his tone not matching his expression. "I don't have many secrets, I'm afraid. Truthfully..." Nightpaw trailed off again, still not sure he could trust the medicine cat. But it wasn't quite the idea that she would tell Leopardstar he was a coward, no - he wasn't sure he cared about that too much now, though the idea of another training session under Silverhawk's examining gaze was insufferable. No...a bigger part of him was sure she would laugh at him. Just say it, mouse-heart.


"Well, truthfully -  well, you have to promise you won't laugh. Not even a snort." He threw a cautious look at her, as though making sure the molly's whiskers didn't so much as twitch. "I'm...terrified." Nightpaw admitted, a heavy sigh leaving his maw as his words broke the uncomfortable silence between them. "I can't be a warrior. I can't." His voice was thick with the threat of tears, a rush of emotions threatening to overcome him.

Nightpaw lingered, standing awkwardly by the yawning entrance to the cavern and gazing off into the distance as though looking for a way out of this conversation. His tail twitched restlessly as he gazed into the depths of Mothermouth.

"I don't know." Nightpaw admitted, turning his head to finally look into her one eye. "It just feels so pathetic. Like it comes to everyone else so naturally, and I feel bad even stepping on an ant." He sighed, thinking back to all of the other apprentices. Their laughs, their cheers, the big catches they brought back to camp, the battle moves they showed off all the time. He just wanted to be like them. To find something he suited.

As he looked back up at the older molly, he was surprised to find something almost like sympathy glittering in her gaze. That judgment he'd seen earlier had left, and her expression seemed to soften instead. She'd been a warrior before? Heatherberry? One single ear flicked with interest, but he just fixed his gaze on his paws as he spoke. "I think...maybe I was born with different skills, then. I just don't know what. Silverhawk was a great mentor and all, I just..." The small tuxedo tom shifted uncomfortably as all those training sessions - early mornings and long nights - flashed in his mind's eye. "I don't know why I'm afraid - I just am. My first day on the territory, Silverhawk said to turn around and attack him first, or he'd attack me. And I-I panicked. My paws wouldn't move and my chest got this - this tight feeling, and I...I'm not sure I was ever supposed to be a warrior, honestly. I'd just let the Clan down. Sometimes I just think I should leave ShadowClan - like I should run away and never look back." His own apprehensive ramblings surprised him, but once he began to speak, he couldn't seem to stop.

"Not that I ever would." Nightpaw added after a beat, quiet and sounding rather small. That would be too scary, he thought resentfully. The apprentice flexed his claws and started forward, taking another step toward Mothermouth. "Forget I said anything. Let's just get it over with."

Nightpaw fell silent, unwilling or unable to say anything else. Instead, he dipped his head, silently grateful for the molly's discretion and empathy. That's fair. He felt a little better, at least, at having shared his burden - at having finally said it out loud. It was something he'd been shouldering for so long, and all alone. Sure, he'd spoken to Pineblossom about it, but it hadn't provided the same relief. She'd been nice enough but had said about everything you'd expect - nothing that had truly lifted the weight.

As they entered Mothermouth, the world seemed to fall into darkness. The only light was the dim glow of what he assumed was the Moonstone, so far ahead. He followed Heatherberry dutifully. Maybe StarClan would have the answers. If he was truly just being a big baby, maybe they could put him in his place. Each pawstep felt like an eternity as they carefully stalked through the narrow, winding tunnels, and then - all at once - the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern, the grotto twice the size of ShadowClan's camp at least. A brilliant stone stood tall and proud in the center, glimmering in the moonlight and casting a stunning light all around. Nightpaw's heart seemed to stop for a moment. He forgot his worries, instead staring in awe at the scene before him. 

But time was ticking, and he was eager to meet with StarClan. The idea of speaking with his ancestors and finally seeing those starry grounds was too appealing for him to wait around. Maybe someday he'd see the Moonstone again. For now, he had a mission.

Nightpaw looked over his shoulder as he approached the stone, meeting Heatherberry's gaze for the last time before his journey concluded. "Thank you." He finally meowed, his voice soft and gentle. Then he touched his nose to the glowing monument and a cold shock took hold of him. He had just enough time to take a deep breath and steady himself before he was carried off into a dream.

Nightpaw awoke, and his eyes slid open to take in this new world with awe shining back in their gentle green. But he didn't have time to look around - no, his StarClan cat was already here, staring back at him with an unreadable expression. He willed his fur to lie flat. He didn't know her; he didn't know many living cats, much less dead ones, so that in itself wasn't much of a surprise. But she smelled of the marsh. His own Clan, not that knowing that usually made him feel any safer. But he decided that cats probably couldn't hurt him in these idyllic, starry grounds. Instead, he stood awkwardly and stared at the molly before him. Was she judging him? Did she think him a fool? Or was she simply as unamused as she looked? Her expression betrayed nothing, but that did nothing except encourage his heart's racing.

The apprentice was still standing - hanging awkwardly in limbo, as though wondering if he should take a seat or if it was stupid to get comfortable. The she-cat stared, her eyes constellations even in their blankness. Nightpaw thought for a moment. My question? Should I have a question? He had many questions, but he was sure they didn't have all day. As much as he'd like to explore the grounds, he figured these meetings usually went quickly - as many as there were in a moon. But as he stared back at her, he realized he did have one question that burned brighter than all the rest. One question in particular had been on the tip of his tongue since he and Heatherberry had departed. "Am...am I on the right path? I don't-" The ruddy tuxedo stopped before he could start. He could feel his usual anxious rambling building up on his lips. He swallowed back any unnecessary words and shook his head. Shut up and listen.

Nightpaw paused. She hadn't answered him. Why hadn't she answered him? As she blinked, he felt like he might be on the verge of understanding everything - why he was here, why he was so useless - but the vaguest of revelations was kept from dawning on him as Burdockroot spoke again. She'd taught Heatherberry. She was a medicine cat, too, and she had a message for him. Why was he relaying StarClan's messages? He wasn't a medicine cat - he was barely even a warrior's apprentice. Maybe he meant so little that his own Moonstone journey was a simple means of relaying some stupid words of advice.

But he didn't say any of that. He merely dipped his head and blinked, slow and gentle, back at the star-dappled molly. "I'll make sure to let her know." Nightpaw assured, trying his best not to let his confusion show. Tell Heatherberry to not let our trauma blind us to reality. What was that, some sort of code? It seemed like foxdung to him. "Is that all, then?" He hated to admit it to himself, but he'd been hoping for more.