Creekstone was a tuxedo cat (simply called “black with white” in the Clans) who wasn’t very popular in his territory. Or any territory, really. He had a huge chip on his shoulder for no reason and was described as acting like a sullen kit when he was well into his adulthood. No one was his friend, and no one wanted to be his friend. He was just quietly expected to eventually leave the Clans and strike out on his own when he was old enough. 

However, when he got his suffix, he didn’t leave. He wandered quite a bit, sure, but not once did he express a desire to go away forever. The Clan was more than happy to let him do what he wanted as long as he kept his attitude in check and do the duties expected of him (whether that was seer duties or warrior duties depends on the version of the story you’re being told). He at least made sure to put in the work required to keep his place in the Clan. 

He rarely dared to go past the barn when he took to exploring, but his curiosity pulled him towards the east (or north, if you’re going by human compasses). He always saw this strange cave that no one ever went near. Foxes didn’t touch it, badgers didn’t touch it, even loners and rogues wouldn’t spend a day nearby. For a long time, he would just sit by the edge of the road and stare at the cave, his curiosity gnawing at him. 

Finally, one day, he followed his desire and ran across the road, with the sort of thrill in his heart only rebelling against the system can give you. He checked out everything. The paw-like mounds of earth on either side of the cave, the spires of stone on its backside, and last of all, the cave itself. He saved this for last because a part of him - that paranoid lizard brain that keeps us alive in dangerous situations - was certain that he wasn’t going to come out of there if he dared to enter. 

If you were to find him today and ask him about what he found, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. It was dark, it was silent, and it smelled of nothing. He went through tunnel after tunnel, turn after turn, only able to feel rocks and earth and dead ends. He was simultaneously frightened, exhausted, and excited. He must have thought it was a grand adventure.

After an entire day had passed, he came across a humongous white stone that reflected the moon’s light and shook him to his core. He stayed there, staring in awe at this heart of the cave, until the day came by again, during which his hunger and tiredness came back to him and he left. 

He managed to find his way out again, and when he got back to his Clan, he was jubilant. He wove a fantastical tale of pitch darkness and shining rocks and the pure silence he had experienced. The Clan was skeptical, to be sure, but after a few cats had gone back with him and confirmed his story, they subtly lorded this information over the other Clans, saying one of their own had found a glowing heart within that beast across the road.