Post by Cloudbat on Jul 13, 2011 10:23:13 GMT -10
I am old now, heavy with moons and weariness. I have seen so much pain, and felt a little of my own. But it is nothing compared the agony experienced by those in the False Reign, as we elders now call it.
My claws extend as I remember the punishments of so many innocent FogClanners – Smokefur and his apprentice Dovewhisker, Frostclaw and her mate, Finchwhisker, who are happier in PineClan, as was Otterclaw, though he perished a few seasons ago. I remember – with shame – that I once reveled in their punishments, believing them to be fair and just.
My mother and I escaped most punishment – but then, we were some of the most deluded in the Clan, and thus the most safe. But I will never forget the day when Beaverstripe strode into camp, claws and fangs dyed red, and proclaimed that he had killed two PineClanners, Ashstorm and her apprentice, Willowpaw. Birchtail’s face was struggling, struggling to equate this coldblooded act with the tom she had foolishly fell in love with. She weakly convinced herself it was StarClan’s will…but it broke her after that, I know. And I will never forgive myself for Cinderpaw leaving…to this day, I don’t know what happened to her, whether she is alive or dead.
I like to think she found Blackpaw and the rest of the vanished rebels, and made a happy life in the far territories beyond the Clans.
I never found a mate…but then, I never deserved one. I was so bitter for so long, so confused and angry at everything…I knew even then that I did not deserve love. StarClan had tested me and found me unworthy of that precious gift.
I still believe…I still believe there are cats who watch over us, who think of us even after they are gone. But I no longer believe in prophecies and omens, visions and signs. I believe StarClan is most alive in the cats around us, their wisdom in simple kindness and good deeds and the denial of sin. Oh yes, there is sin…not as much as Volepelt or Miststar believed, but it is there, always lurking. I no longer hate PineClan for their non-belief, but I pity them for their narrow minds.
I know I sound like a hypocrite – a FogClanner calling PineClanners narrow-minded? But truly – is it not narrow-minded to deny yourself such a force for good? Certainly they are not perfect – no cat is. But I feel sure there must be something looking out for us, if only to prevent even worse things to happen to the Clans.
The only thing I have left now is my Clan, and my duty to it. Granted, I am not of much use these days – but I am always cheered at how we have recovered. Our strong leader, Firestar, has learned such wisdom since his reckless apprentice days – though he’s certainly prone to an outburst or two! I still look up to him – that, at least, has not changed.
Our deputy is Foxtail – she, too, has grown into a beautiful and mature warrior. Who would have thought the quiet little she-cat could be so brave and sharp-witted when faced with a crisis? Of course, she still has problems talking to others sometimes – especially the former Volepelt supporters – but Firestar is always there to help her. They make a good balance.
Our medicine cat, Icethroat, is often grumpy, especially since her mentor’s death. But she is a wonderful healer nevertheless – and I must confess, not quite as callous with others’ pain as Brightnose was. I can’t say I liked the odd calico, but she supported the rebels in the last days of the False Reign, and I was saddened when Rowanheart ripped her life away. Ah, Rowanheart – he passed nearly a year ago, shattered by grief like my mother.
I would be a senior warrior beside my Clanmates – if not for the cursed illness that crippled my limbs prematurely. I survived, but I can no longer hunt or fight.
Our Clan is growing strong – yet still memories linger in our hearts and the empty spaces in the warriors’ den. Birchtail, Rowanheart, and Beaverstripe are dead – Tawnywhisker, Volepelt’s deputy, fled with him when he was overthrown. My mentor is still alive, though she grows deafer every quarter-moon. But I know that, regardless of her hearing, she is simply glad to that her kits are alive and well, without the burden of a father that the Clan will always remember and hate.
Not that the Clan has forgotten who sired them – many are still wary of them and dirty looks are often shot their way. But there are those who look at them and do not see Volepelt’s small size in his son, Flamepaw, or his eyes in his daughter, Dustpaw. Owlpaw hardly looks like either of her parents – a dark brown-gray with thick black stripes.
And Firestar still mourns for the loss of Harefang’s sight, which must be doubly grieving as his own father did it. I don’t know exactly why he was so concerned about her and her litter, but I can guess. Sandpaw, Harefang’s son and the newest PineClan apprentice, looks very like our leader.
It may also explain why though they are close, Firestar and Foxtail have never had more than a friendly relationship.
But I have rambled far too long, and the day is bright, young apprentice. Go serve your Clan – but do not worry about whether you believe in StarClan yet, there is plenty of time to decide. Do not fear being punished for some imagined slight, or starving for the sake of purity. Those dark times are over, and StarClan grant that they never come again.
My claws extend as I remember the punishments of so many innocent FogClanners – Smokefur and his apprentice Dovewhisker, Frostclaw and her mate, Finchwhisker, who are happier in PineClan, as was Otterclaw, though he perished a few seasons ago. I remember – with shame – that I once reveled in their punishments, believing them to be fair and just.
My mother and I escaped most punishment – but then, we were some of the most deluded in the Clan, and thus the most safe. But I will never forget the day when Beaverstripe strode into camp, claws and fangs dyed red, and proclaimed that he had killed two PineClanners, Ashstorm and her apprentice, Willowpaw. Birchtail’s face was struggling, struggling to equate this coldblooded act with the tom she had foolishly fell in love with. She weakly convinced herself it was StarClan’s will…but it broke her after that, I know. And I will never forgive myself for Cinderpaw leaving…to this day, I don’t know what happened to her, whether she is alive or dead.
I like to think she found Blackpaw and the rest of the vanished rebels, and made a happy life in the far territories beyond the Clans.
I never found a mate…but then, I never deserved one. I was so bitter for so long, so confused and angry at everything…I knew even then that I did not deserve love. StarClan had tested me and found me unworthy of that precious gift.
I still believe…I still believe there are cats who watch over us, who think of us even after they are gone. But I no longer believe in prophecies and omens, visions and signs. I believe StarClan is most alive in the cats around us, their wisdom in simple kindness and good deeds and the denial of sin. Oh yes, there is sin…not as much as Volepelt or Miststar believed, but it is there, always lurking. I no longer hate PineClan for their non-belief, but I pity them for their narrow minds.
I know I sound like a hypocrite – a FogClanner calling PineClanners narrow-minded? But truly – is it not narrow-minded to deny yourself such a force for good? Certainly they are not perfect – no cat is. But I feel sure there must be something looking out for us, if only to prevent even worse things to happen to the Clans.
The only thing I have left now is my Clan, and my duty to it. Granted, I am not of much use these days – but I am always cheered at how we have recovered. Our strong leader, Firestar, has learned such wisdom since his reckless apprentice days – though he’s certainly prone to an outburst or two! I still look up to him – that, at least, has not changed.
Our deputy is Foxtail – she, too, has grown into a beautiful and mature warrior. Who would have thought the quiet little she-cat could be so brave and sharp-witted when faced with a crisis? Of course, she still has problems talking to others sometimes – especially the former Volepelt supporters – but Firestar is always there to help her. They make a good balance.
Our medicine cat, Icethroat, is often grumpy, especially since her mentor’s death. But she is a wonderful healer nevertheless – and I must confess, not quite as callous with others’ pain as Brightnose was. I can’t say I liked the odd calico, but she supported the rebels in the last days of the False Reign, and I was saddened when Rowanheart ripped her life away. Ah, Rowanheart – he passed nearly a year ago, shattered by grief like my mother.
I would be a senior warrior beside my Clanmates – if not for the cursed illness that crippled my limbs prematurely. I survived, but I can no longer hunt or fight.
Our Clan is growing strong – yet still memories linger in our hearts and the empty spaces in the warriors’ den. Birchtail, Rowanheart, and Beaverstripe are dead – Tawnywhisker, Volepelt’s deputy, fled with him when he was overthrown. My mentor is still alive, though she grows deafer every quarter-moon. But I know that, regardless of her hearing, she is simply glad to that her kits are alive and well, without the burden of a father that the Clan will always remember and hate.
Not that the Clan has forgotten who sired them – many are still wary of them and dirty looks are often shot their way. But there are those who look at them and do not see Volepelt’s small size in his son, Flamepaw, or his eyes in his daughter, Dustpaw. Owlpaw hardly looks like either of her parents – a dark brown-gray with thick black stripes.
And Firestar still mourns for the loss of Harefang’s sight, which must be doubly grieving as his own father did it. I don’t know exactly why he was so concerned about her and her litter, but I can guess. Sandpaw, Harefang’s son and the newest PineClan apprentice, looks very like our leader.
It may also explain why though they are close, Firestar and Foxtail have never had more than a friendly relationship.
But I have rambled far too long, and the day is bright, young apprentice. Go serve your Clan – but do not worry about whether you believe in StarClan yet, there is plenty of time to decide. Do not fear being punished for some imagined slight, or starving for the sake of purity. Those dark times are over, and StarClan grant that they never come again.