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Post by hawkstar on Sept 30, 2011 7:11:07 GMT -5
A chill gripped the dark tom as he climbed the path, the moon over head raising up into the sky with agonizing slowness, although now, it had reached it's peak, the pale rays of the big white orb in the skin turning everything silver. Hawkstrike shuddered against the cold, fluffing up his excruciatingly thin coat against the leaf-fall chill. Down in the forest, it wasn't this cold, not yet, but climbing the mountain of the moonpool, the air was thinner, and freezing.
A feeble cough worked it's way from his throat, but it was more from the dryness in this air than it was any sort of sickness. Hawkstrike couldn't help but feel silly. How had this come to happen? He faltered in his step as the path ended, and before him yawned the moonpool, the water placid and calm, the moon above reflecting in it perfectly. He hadn't been anyone, no special cat, no amazing prophet, yet now here he was, waiting to receive his nine lives. He would be leader at last. He remembered clearly the morning before, slipping from his den, and going to speak with Thornstar. Thornstar wasn't anybodies friend, and frankly, it was obvious the old tom was going insane. He had gone into the den, where the scraggly old tom sat, his eyes wide and wild. Not a day prior, the deputy had been found dead in the forest. Cat's had waited for his new choice, but Thornstar was old, he was bitter- and he was cruel. He refused. Stepping into the den that smelled of sickness dripping from the old tom's pelt, he had quietly brought Thornstar a mouse, and after the tom was well into eating, Hawkstrike had questioned if he would soon name a deputy- it was only right. Thornstar had thrown a fit, and run Hawkstrike from the den- but things only grew more interesting.
That evening, Thornstar had come from his den, looking feeble and sick, never even attempted to climb to address the clan, glared out at the cat's that called him leader, and after only a few words, said Hawkstrike would be the new deputy. The next day, Thornstar was found dead in the forest, his throat ripped out. Hawkstrike was in a predicament then, now he was leader. He was a grown cat, he was wise, and he was ambitious. This had never been his plan, however, and now, he was only slightly worried on what would become of this. He knew how the clan's functioned, he knew what he must do. He was ready for it.
The world around him was bleak and empty as he laid down by the pool. Since his deputy-ship had already broken some traditions, Cricketleap hadn't come along- not for spite, or whatnot, but things at camp were rough, and Cricketleap was the best cat to keep them calm, so Hawkstrike, using his newfound authority, made the gray and white medicine cat stay behind. Now, he laid on the edge of the water, his heart pounding his his chest, gave the liquid an experimental lick, then let his nose brush the surface, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, he was standing in a misty-filled clearing. Where was he- he looked up suddenly and saw the swaying branches overhead, thick and noble. The Island. His tail gave a nervous flick as he stood and peered into the surrounding fog, feeling alone. Did something go wrong? Was another cat meant to be deputy. He was relieved however when a few misty shapes detatching, and began to circle him- shapes he realized he recognized. ShadowClan cats. Dead ones. His sister, who had died last moon, bearing kits, Russetflash, her kits that had also passed, Falconkit and Pinekit pressed against her front paws, sitting meekly, tiny at her side, Mudkit, his parents, some of his old friends, some cats he didn't recognize and, Thornstar! He was no longer the sickly, insane tom he had been in his last few moons of life. Now he stood tall and strong, golden fur rippling over strong muscles. The cat that had trained Hawkpaw to be the best cat he could be. Who had made Hawkstrike a fine warrior. Who would do this for him now.
"Thornstar! I-I'm so sorry... what... what happ-" The ShadowClan leader cut Hawkstrike off, "There is evil in this forest, Hawkstrike. I am safer here than I would ever be in ShadowClan. Now, are you ready to recieve your nine lives?" Hawkstrike faltered, then stopped, nodding curtly. "Yes sir, I am."
Forward stepped the small brown form he had been glancing too occasionally. Mudkit. His brother, always rambunctious and bullheaded, who had caused his own death by slipping from camp, now looked wise, and strong, for a kit. "With this life, I give you courage. Use it well in the defense of your clan." His nose made contact with Hawkstrike's, and the pain that coursed through him was like lighting, he felt himself shudder, and wish to collapse, but now, he felt paralyzed in place. The next thing he new, Mudkit was gone, and the next cat came forward.
It was Blackfur, the old ShadowClan deputy. The tom nodded briefly to Hawkstrike, but Hawkstrike couldn't return the motion as Blackfur pressed his nose to Hawkstrike. "With this life, I give you justice. Use it well as you judge the actions of others." More pain tearing through his muscles, but he stood strong, he wouldn't give in, not to the pain, not to anything.
The next cat was a sight that set his fur on edge. Jaggedclaw, his father. Jaggedclaw had been a rough, somewhat cruel cat that heavily disciplined his kits, but deep down, you could only accept, he did it for love. "With this life I give you loyalty to what you know to be right. Use it well to guide your Clan in times of trouble." The pain gripped him, but this time, it wasn't so bone numbing. Hawkstrike found himself able to stand it without much issue, but as his father walked away, he felt pain. He had never been able to appreciate the rough tom, and now it was too late.
Now, a skinny, feeble form moved forth- but there was life in those eyes. This cat was healthy. This cat wasn't ShadowClan, but this cat had fathered his sister's kits, this WindClan tom, Runningwind. "With this life I give you tireless energy. Use it well to carry out the duties of a leader." This cat had always been running, it seemed, true to his name. He ran to flee being cat, he ran to see Russetflash, and despite it being wrong, he ran the moment he heard she was kitting. He had gone right into the ShadowClan cat to meet his kits- only to meet their death. He had died soon after on the border between WindClan and ShadowClan.
Now, that very she-cat stepped forth. She was beautiful, her fur a deep brown colour, a near mirror image of Hawkstrike. "Russetflash..." He breathed, watching his sister with wide eyes. "My dear brother." She purred, but went on without another recollection, pressing her nose to him. "With this life I give you protection. Use it well to care for you Clan as a mother cares for her kits." The pain this time was worse than any before, it filled him with a ferocious protectiveness, as a mother would be, defending her kits from anything. All too soon, however, his dear sister had turned, and moved away from him, back to where her own deceased kits bounced.
He was shaken to the very core in the aftermath of that life, but he had absorbed it fully. He would always know now that Russetflash was happy in StarClan with her kits, and her mate. He didn't notice the grey tabby until he was right next to him, Stonefall, his old mentor. " With this life I give you mentoring. Use it well to train the young cats of your Clan." He shuddered with the pain, feeling physically exhausted from all of the ordeals until now, but he was mentally alert, feeling as if he could function forever.
The next cat caught his eye, a large tom, that was oh so familiar- the tom that had brought him and his siblings into the world, and seen many others out of it. Foxtrot, the former ShadowClan medicine cat. " With this life I give you compassion. Use it well for the elders of you Clan, and the sick, and all those weaker than yourself." Foxtrot had lived until he had died with a life of compassion and healing, and just like with Russetflash, he found himself digesting the pain that shocked through him. He wanted Foxtrot's compassion, his strength and loyalty.
He opened his eyes, but Foxtrot had already moved away, and a black she-cat stood in front of him, green eyes blazing. It was his very own mother,Crowswoop. He swelled with the pride he saw in her gaze. Her son stood before her, becoming a leader. " With this life I give you love. Use it well for all the cats in your care—especially Peachblossom." This time, there was no pain, just an overwhelming sense of love. Crowswoop didn't immediately move away, looking up at Hawkstrike with love in her own gaze. "Hawkstrike, my son, you've always been so serious. So down to earth, so locked in life. You must learn love, you must learn to show it." She didn't wait for a response, turning and returning to the crowd as the final cat approached.
He tried to look prideful, and not at all tired in front of Thornstar as the final cat stood over him, eyes brimming with pride and excitement. "Hawkstrike, my loyal warrior, my deputy in my final hours, with this life I give you nobility and certainty and faith. Use it well as you lead your Clan in the ways of StarClan and the warrior code." The pain that rocked through him was like taking the others a hundred times over. His jaws gaped in agony, but not a sound escaped. When it faded away, he found himself crouching down , shaking, until Thornstar motioned for him to rise. When he did, he was astonished to find he was not sore, or tired, but a new strength flowed through him. " I hail you by your new name, Hawkstar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of ShadowClan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity." The cats around him rose into a chorus, chanting his name- but suddenly, all grew silent, and he was alone. "Thornstar? Russetflash?" He cried out, but only a yawning silence answered him. Suddenly around him, he felt liquid, rising, rising up.
He began to tread like it was water, but it was thick and sticky, and warm. Looking around he realized it was not water, but blood. He hissed and tried to pull free, but it was all enclosing, threatening to drown him. In a panic he lashed out, but touched nothing- only oddly aware of the pebbles below him being swept away. Why they intrigued him so, he did not know, but every time he looked away, to focus on swimming, his gaze drifted back down to them- then the voice sounded, the wind howling, thunder booming in his ears, the shadows oppressive, the blood, drowning him.
"Thunder, wind, shadow, and river will carry away the strangers until one is taken whole. Four will become five, five will become two." His head went under, his mouth filled with sticky blood, and suddenly, he was jerked away, laying on the edge of the Moonpool, his breathing harsh and heavy. He wanted to interpret it, but for all of the life he had felt prior, he was drained. Achingly, he rose to his paws, head reeling, and started back to ShadowClan. Prophecy or not, he had a clan to lead.
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