#currentheart

Tidechaser had strode into camp in the pouring rain, pelt plastered to his sides, the water making the huge tom look so much smaller than he usually did. Sand had been trailing behind him, tail dragging in the mud and head low, looking like he’d just experienced the wreck anew. Dustjump hadn’t even needed to see the bloodied ginger fur of the cat across Tidechaser’s shoulders to know that another tragedy had caught up to them at last. It had been something called a boar, Tidechaser had told them. They’d never ventured this close to the coast before, but now that one was here, they all needed to be more cautious. Dustjump had barely heard a word he said, too absorbed with the loss of the young, energetic tom.

 For a while, it seemed like they could have made a life here. Had that been anything more than a grand illusion? There were no kits among them now. Many of the cats in their group were young, but in time, they would age and die as well, if disease or bloodshed or strange accidents like the one today didn’t take them first. And then everything they had built would be gone, nothing more than dust on the wind, with no-one left to remember that their paws had ever left prints on these dunes. The cats that had died on the ship had been the same. Her housefolk had been the same. They’d all been taken away, and when Dustjump was gone, everything she’d known about them would vanish, like they’d never even existed at all. It was a sad, bleak fate that they all shared. Dustjump wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so hopeless or alone, not even after the night of the wreck. What do we do now? If we’re all going to fade into nothing, why bother trying at all?

Dustjump felt a shifting under her feet and snatched her paw back with a hiss. She expected to see one of the little crabs that scurried across the beach without end. Annoying, painful, even, if they got you in the right place, but not particularly harmful. What she saw was too odd and dark to be a crab. She peered down into the sand, gazing deep into the creature's strange face and dark, shining eyes. She didn’t have long to look, though, because as soon as it had shaken itself free of the sand, it began pushing away with its strange, pawless limbs. Dustjump felt a spark of recognition. It was the flippers that gave it away. It was a turtle. She had seen a few in greenleaf up on the beaches, digging around in the sand. She hadn’t gotten close enough to see what they’d been doing then, but Dustjump supposed that the emergence of this strange, disproportionate little turtle indicated that they’d been kitting. Or whatever it was that turtles did. The little turtle finally disappeared over the rise of the dune, and Dustjump let her gaze linger where it had vanished. She wondered, vaguely, where it was going. Then she felt another nudge at her paw. Dustjump looked down to find the sand nearly churning beneath her paws as turtle after turtle fought its way free of the earth. How big are their litters, she thought in dismay. A few even emerged from under Currentheart’s body, and she could just make out her campmates murmuring to one another in confusion and discomfort.

There were so many of the creatures, coming out all over the place, scrambling in every direction. It felt almost disrespectful to Currentheart and the vigil they had been trying to hold. She was about to suggest moving their fallen friend when the little creatures, previously flailing about every which way in a chaotic display of confusion and fear, began to turn, one by one and in groups, all in the direction that the first turtle had vanished. Then they started pushing forward in a desperate struggle, as though something was calling them, guiding them… 

Dustjump’s breath caught in her throat. The words of the legend Tidechaser had shared moons ago rang in her ears: “if ever you or your descendents are lost on the way to the Realm of Stars, me and my kin will seek you out…” Dustjump inhaled sharply as Tidechaser spoke the words she’d been thinking into existence once more. “...and guide you on your way.”

Dustjump didn’t give herself time to think or doubt. She heard the yowls of shock and question behind her, and realized that she was already on her paws, already running. She didn’t stop to explain, she couldn’t stop. Please understand, she implored them in her mind. Please follow. 

Tidechaser must have taken off at the same moment she had, or heartbeats after, because he was beside her now, pulling in front of her. Oh no you don’t! She increased her pace, pushing faster, faster. She had to be there first. She didn’t know why she was so certain, she just knew. They set a brutal, paw-pounding pace over the dunes, kicking up sand in their wake. Up and down the dunes they went, following the trails of the tiny, dark turtles crawling towards the open sea. Dustjump’s jaws were wide now, her breathing heavy as her lungs ached with effort. When was the last time she’d run like this? The night of the wreck? No, she’d been too exhausted. Maybe never. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, but not in the hopeless, soul-sucking sense she’d felt when she’d lost everything on that fateful night. Right here, right now, nothing else mattered, because this moment was so immense, so important that it swallowed everything else up. Her whole life, everything she’d ever known had been building to this moment.

They crested the rise of the last dune, looking down upon a beach alive with motion as hundreds of tiny turtles struggled towards a sea dancing with white starlight like it was their destiny. On another night, the site would have been breathtaking, but tonight Dustjump barely stopped to glance at it. She knew that her tiny companions would not mind. They were all striving towards the same vast ocean.

Dustjump reached the water heartbeats before Tidechaser did, both of them skidding to a stop on the wet sand, the gentle ebb and flow of the tide washing over their paws.The clouds had cleared, and the starlight was bright on the water now, nearly blinding in its brilliance. Dustjump took a deep breath and let her heart, not her mind, guide her.

“Currentheart, Pearl… I’m sorry it took me so long to understand. But I’m here now. And I’m ready to listen.”

The starlight on the water shifted, trembled, swirled, seemed to rise up out of the ocean to rest above it. And then they were before her. Dustjump gasped, and heard Tidechaser’s sharp inhale of breath beside her. They were beautiful. The memory of the dull, glassy-eyed corpse amidst the dunes above was obliterated by this vibrant young cat that seemed to radiate life and strength. Eyes shining with white fire, stars glittering in his pelt, he dipped his head to her. The cat beside him was no less resplendent, her ginger pelt glossy and thick with its own stars, a serene expression resting gently on her face. She swept her tail around her paws and spoke. “We are pleased to greet you, Dustjump and Tidechaser. We have been waiting.” Pearl’s voice was still her own, but there was a strength to it, a resonance that had not been present in life. Dustjump bowed her head before them, struck momentarily speechless by their majesty.

Thankfully, Tidechaser voiced the words that she could not seem to formulate. “How… how is this possible? The legend said… but I never suspected…” 

“All legends have a kernel of truth somewhere,” Currentheart responded, his voice echoing with light and life, “this one had more than most.”

Pearl’s starry gaze fixed on something behind Dustjump. The others must have followed us, after all. She turned to face her companions to a chorus of sound. Some exclamations were surprised, some confused, a few scared. Shell had clearly led the group, standing stock still a few paces ahead of them now, her eyes blown wide. “Currentheart… Pearl… I… Dustjump, what is going on?”

Dustjump opened her jaws to reply, but her words were drowned out by a howl so filled with grief and love and longing that it took her breath away. Sand barreled past Shell, past Dustjump and Tidechaser to collapse before the starry figure of Currentheart in a bundle of trembling cream colored fur. “Currentheart, Currentheart I’m so sorry, it should’ve been me, you shouldn’t have pushed me out of the way!”

“The choice was mine to make, my teacher, my friend,” Currentheart’s words were gentle, but firm. “I would make the same choice if I could go back to that moment, knowing what would happen.”

“It isn’t fair,” Sand moaned, “that I should live only by your loss. How am I supposed to live with that?”

“You do not live by my loss. You live by my gift. That which was freely given, out of love. Do not waste the life I saved by bemoaning the other paths fate might have taken. Honor that gift by living your life fully, by being true to yourself, by caring for those around you.”

Dustjump stood beside Sand now, brushing her tail over his spine in a soothing gesture. The trembling stopped, and he drew in a long, shaky breath. “I’ll try,” he promised. “I’ll be the best cat I can be, and I’ll make you proud.”

“I’ll be watching over you, always.” Currentheart purred.

Dustjump hated to break in, but Tidechaser seemed to have no such compunctions. “Is that how this works then? When cats die they watch over us from the Realm of Stars, just like in the stories? And we can just talk to them whenever we want?” Pearl considered an answer, but Tidechaser didn’t give her time to formulate one, his tone growing suspicious, hostile. “I… I tried to reach you, once. When Wavehopper died. I sat for hours, staring at the sea night after night, talking to the air, hoping, praying that I would reach her. Why didn’t it work then, if it works now? Where is she?”

Oh, Tidechaser. Dustjump wondered if she would ever know everything there was to this cat she considered her friend.

Pearl sighed, her tail tip twitching. “There are a number of reasons you couldn’t reach her. It would take all night to explain all of them. But the biggest part of it is community. What you all have built here on this beach, with cats supporting one another, learning and growing and sharing experiences, is something very special. You are all part of something greater than yourselves, a great web of connections. You each have a unique bond to every other cat here, you each know small details about one another that perhaps no other cat knows. And most importantly, you share memories of one another. That kind of closeness–even to cats you lack a deep personal connection with–it doesn’t just vanish when a cat leaves the mortal realm to walk the stars. That thread of the web may be gone, but the threads that surrounded it, the memories that those still living share with the dead, those things linger, and it is that which keeps a spirit connected to the world of the living.”

“So?” Tidechaser growled, “I haven’t forgotten Wavehopper. I think about her every day. Are you saying I didn’t love her enough to keep her here?”

“Tidechaser,” Dustjump hissed a warning, but Pearl gestured with her tail to show that she took no offense.

“Tidechaser, which tree is less likely to fall? One with a single thick root, or one with many branching roots?

“One with branching roots,” Tidechaser growled,” but I don’t see why–”

“Connections between the living and dead work the same way,” Currentheart interrupted, his voice deep but gentle. “Many connections anchor a cat more closely to the living world than a single one, no matter how deep it runs.”

Tidechaser fell silent, his shoulders slumping.

“That does not mean your sister is lost, Tidechaser,” Pearl added gently. “She waits for you in our realm–the Realm of the Stars. You will see her again when you join us.”

Tidechaser nodded silently, his tirade at an end.

“So you’re saying that… because we all knew you two, and because we all know each other, we’re…linked?” Dustjump felt callus, moving the conversation away from Tidechaser’s sister, but she was desperate to understand what the starry cats were saying. Pearl nodded, and Dustjump continued. “And cats outside of this… this Clan of ours still walk the stars, they just aren’t tethered to our world?” 

“Clan,” Pearl purred, “that is the perfect name for it. Other cats have formed Clans, in other places, other times. This will be the first Clan to live along these shores, though. Yes, Dustjump, you understand my meaning very well. I was right to choose you. When the cats of your living Clan die, young or old, they will come and join our group in the stars–StarClan.”

“StarClan…” Dustjump breathed. The word felt powerful, felt right. Then the rest of Pearl’s words caught up to her. “Wait–you said you chose me? For what?”

“To be the first intermediary between us and your living Clan,” Pearl announced proudly. “It is a duty commonly given to a Clan’s Healer–though there have been other titles, should you prefer them– Star Seeker, Seer, Medicine Cat…” 

“Healer!” Dustjump blurted out. “I like Healer. It’s what I am, it’s what I do.” The other names also made her head spin with the implications, but she didn’t want to say that out loud. A Healer… she could be a Healer. “But why do you need an intermediary? You’ve appeared to us all tonight, why not continue to do that?” 

Pearl shook her head sadly. “Tonight is a rare night– the sky is clear, the moon is high, and we have only recently passed the Longest Night, and our realms are still close to one another. It is easier to touch your realm now than it otherwise will be. Even so, to appear to so many cats outside of the Longest Night is not an easy task. It is far easier to find a single cat to speak to–a cat who holds dear the memories of those who have passed, who is willing to follow her heart and listen to the whispers on the wind. When we wish to speak, we will most frequently speak with you. In dreams and in signs we will most often reach you, but if you need us, search for us in the reflections of the stars on the water, and we will come.”

Dustjump dipped her head, honored by their faith in her. “I will be ready to listen when you call,” she promised humbly.

Pearl turned her blazing gaze away from Dustjump, focusing on Shell, who sat up straighter. “And you, dear Shell… oh, what can I even say? I am so proud of you.” There was a fondness in Pearl’s voice that had been present for no other cat, and Dustjump wondered at the bond they shared. “You have been the North Star to the survivors, guiding them through the wreck and helping them build a new life here. Shell is no more, for I name you Shellstar, guiding light of your Clan. Think carefully on the cat you wish to lead the Clan next, and make them your deputy, so that even after you are gone, the Clan will not be without a guiding star.” 

“Shellstar,” Dustjump breathed her friend’s new name like a prayer, and swept through the rest of the survivors like a gentle breeze. 

“Shellstar, Shellstar, Shellstar…” 

“Cats of the shipwreck, survivors, warriors,” Pearl raised her voice to address the rest of the group as the whispers of Shellstar’s new name faded out. “We led you here tonight to show you that what is lost is never truly gone, so long as you keep faith and hold it in your hearts. You are more than you were when you arrived on this beach– you are a Clan, and a Clan supports its members through all manner of hardship. But each Clan must have a name that defines it–a name that binds its members together through meaning and memory. By what name do you wish to be called?”

Unlike when Currentheart had been named, there was no discussion amongst the onlookers, no pondering of options. This name would define not a single cat, but every cat among them, as well as their descendents far into the future. To put forth an option that you lacked absolute conviction in was unthinkable. You either knew the Clan’s name, or you didn’t.

And Dustjump knew.

“TurtleClan!” The word ripped free of her chest like a bird taking flight, like something she’d held inside her heart for moons finally breaking free. “We are TurtleClan, always striving towards the sea and the stars, honoring those who came before us with our every breath.”

Silence.

And then cheers. “TurtleClan! TurtleClan! TurtleClan! TURTLECLAN!” 

Currentheart raised his tail for silence, and the cheering slowly faded out. It was Pearl who spoke. “Cats of TurtleClan, we implore you to live truly, to care for one another, and to act with honor until it is your time to join us in StarClan. We are with you always, through your pains and glories, through high and low, times both harsh and kind. Never forget where you came from, or all that you have gone through to get there.”

It was a farewell, and they all knew it. On the distant horizon, Dustjump could make out the slightest lightening of the sky. The night was coming to a close, and the stars would soon fade into dawn. “Go in peace,” Dustjump whispered. “I will be ready to receive your messages, when you are ready to share them.”

Sand had to agree with his former apprentice. In the time since Spindlefleck’s rite of passage, the weather had turned. Dustjump, Brokenmast and Shell had all commented on how shockingly mild leafbare had been, with only a pawful of freezes and no snow whatsoever. Sand couldn’t really comment on that–it was only his second real leafbare–he’d been born during leafbare, but the only one he remembered had been spent first inside his twoleg’s den, and then on the ship with the others before the storm. Tidechaser hadn’t seemed shocked by the weather though, commenting that it had been only slightly milder than normal. He had, however, warned that as they approached Newleaf, the rains would start to pick up, and on that front, the tides seemed eager to deliver. While it might not be cold enough to freeze, there was still a chill in the air, and patrolling in cold rain was no cat’s idea of fun.

“If we move quickly, we might be back at camp before the rain hits,” Sand suggested.

“Yes please!” Currentheart exclaimed, picking up his pace. “We can’t be far from the last scent marker now, but it’s so hard to tell with this weather. Everything just smells like wet dirt.”

“We’re close,” Tidechaser confirmed, taking the lead. Sand let him move ahead without contest. He might be Shell’s second, but Tidechaser had a knack for picking up on the faintest of scents. Besides, if he led, it gave Sand an opportunity to catch up with Currentheart. He matched his pace to the younger tom’s strolling beside him in comfortable silence for a time before speaking. “So,” he started. “I’ve noticed Spindlefleck has moved her nest nearer to yours.” Currentheart stumbled, and Sand let out an amused purr. “So there is something between you two!” 

“No!” Currentheart denied. “I mean, maybe… I don’t know. She’s nice, and I like her as a friend but… I’m not really looking for a mate right now, you know? I’ve still got a lot of growing to do before I’m ready to make a decision like that, and so does she.”

“That’s a very mature perspective to take,” Sand meowed. “But I hope she knows that’s how you feel about it.” 

“I need to talk to her soon,” Currentheart admitted. “But it’s hard to find the right thing to say. I don’t want to reject her outright, but I don’t want to lead her on, either.”

“You should tell her what you told me,” Sand suggested. “Be upfront. Honest. How she reacts is up to her, and it will probably give you your first real idea of whether or not she’s the kind of cat who would be a good match for you, someday.”

“That’s good advice,” Currentheart purred, pressing his flank against Sand’s. “All these moons later, and you’re still teaching me new things.”

“Only now you’re not required to listen to me,” Sand teased. 

Currentheart responded with a playful shove, but before they could continue the conversation, Tidechaser broke in.

“Sand, Currentheart, you should come take a look at this.”

Sand pricked his ears, focusing his attention back on the patrol. Tidechaser sounded cautious, though not afraid. He whisked aside his tail to reveal a pile of prey bones. Sand bent down to sniff at them. There was the faintest scent of cat clinging to the bones, but it didn’t smell like anyone he knew. “Someone has been here recently. Not today, but maybe yesterday or the day before?”

There were a few cats that hunted on and around the area the survivors had marked out–it wasn’t something Shell was particularly concerned about, as the boundaries were more to set limits on where the cats in their group ranged than to keep anyone out, but she did like to stay aware of who was hanging about. 

“It’s definitely recent,” Tidechaser agreed, “but that’s not why I called you over. Look at this.” Tidechaser kicked a sodden scrap of fur that Sand hadn’t initially noticed. It was a partially eaten bird, rapidly turning to crowfood.

“Ugh! They didn’t even bury it?” Currentheart meowed, his voice thick with disgust.

“Maybe they had to leave it,” Sand murmured.

“That’s the part that worries me. A catch this big? No cat around these parts would just leave it like this. They’d bring it with them, or bury it if they couldn’t.”

“So why didn’t they?” Currentheart wondered.

“Let’s spread out and look for signs,” Sand suggested. “Maybe they were just spooked by a loud noise, or maybe it was something more. If a threat has moved in here, we need to know about it.”

The three toms slowly worked their way out in different directions from the abandoned prey, combing over every inch of ground. It had rained hard the night before, so any tracks were long gone, but there might be other signs. Before long, Sand came upon a small tree with deep gouges in its thin bark. Sand narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to try and pick up a scent. There was a touch of something strange… but what…?

Sand closed his jaws, swallowing before opening his mouth again to call Tidechaser over. As he did, a thick musky scent slammed the roof of his mouth, nearly choking him with its strength. What was that? Instinct kicked in, sending his mind into overdrive as he tried to match the smell to a creature, or to at least come up with something analogous in his scent-memory, something that would tell him if he should flee or stand his ground. Nothing. It bore no resemblance to fox or dog scent, but it was far too heady to be prey. Uncertainty gave way to fear, and suddenly his mind was telling him to–

“Sand, MOVE!” Tidechaser’s yowl was louder, sharper than he’d ever heard before, but the warning came too late.

 The undergrowth trembled, and a beast emerged from the brush, huge and solid and dark, covered with bristling hairs. Everything seemed suddenly vivid to Sand as the world slowed around him in the face of this new, foreign terror. He could see each thick, black hair on the creature, could see the gleam of saliva in its pink maw, opened wide in an enraged squeal to reveal what looked like two long, gleaming fangs on either side of its jaw. 

 It felt like he should have enough time to get out of the way. He didn’t. He was frozen, forced to watch as the rest of the world trickled by him at a snail’s pace. Sand knew he was directly in its path, knew it was going to gore him with those sharp tusks, knew that he was going to die right here, right now, if he didn’t spring out of the way. Why can’t I move? Why aren’t my muscles responding?

The beast bore down on him while his instincts screamed at him to run, to flee, to hide, all to no avail. Sand stared up into the gaping maw of his own demise, watching death inch closer and closer. The world caught up to Sand’s racing mind and he was tumbling away, pelt skidding across the damp earth. There was a moment of confusion. He was still alive… wasn’t he? Had the beast turned away at the last moment? No, something had definitely hit him, but the blow had come from the side, not from the front. Something had pushed him out of the way at the last second. Someone had… saved him? Realization crashed into Sand with the force of the storm that had slammed their ship up against the rocks all those moons ago, changing their lives forever. Sand shot to his feet, shaking his head to clear the mud from his eyes.

Bright ginger fur against the damp forest floor. Red blood seeping into the mud. No.

Sand was dimly aware of Tidechaser howling with rage, leaping up and on top of the beast that had attacked them, clinging to its back as it snorted with rage. But those things might have been happening in another world for all the difference it made to him. All of his attention was on the figure collapsed in the mud. He had to be okay. He isn’t moving. Sand crossed the distance between them in less than a heartbeat, skidding to a stop beside Currentheart’s side. Blood was spilling out of a deep gash on his side, staining his white patches red, pooling on the ground around him before soaking into the earth. There was so much blood. “No, no no!” This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. 

Currentheart jerked, coughed, tilted his head. He cracked open a single amber eye, and Sand dropped to his belly beside the young cat who he had watched grow from a spoiled, selfish kit into an ally, a friend, a warrior. “You’re alright,” he managed to choke out. “You’re going to be just fine, Current. We’ll get you back to Dustjump and she’ll fix you up, she’ll heal you like she healed Brokenmast and Foam. You’re alright. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” Sand knew he was babbling, repeating the same words again and again. It didn’t matter. He had to say it, had to speak the words into reality, make them true. 

Sand fell silent as Currentheart drew in a slow, ragged breath. “Hope I… lived up t’… the name…”

Currentheart gave one final, painful wheeze and fell still, his head lolling to the side. Sand wailed. He wailed and wailed, his jaws still open long after his cry had petered out.

The clouds broke open, and the promised rain began to fall.

Sand had always believed that Current had it in him to be an extraordinary cat, wise and brave and kind, and over the last two moons, Current had finally seemed to realize it himself. He had not lost his adventurous, sometimes goofy personality, but had instead gained a more confident and serious side that he would turn on the moment he left the camp. The young tom had grown fiercely dedicated to helping and protecting his campmates, and after a discussion with Shell last night, it had been decided that Current was ready to join the ranks of their group as a full adult. From the squirming kit Sand had carried out of the waves all those moons ago, to the bold, troublesome apprentice, to the kind, confident young cat that sat before him now, Current had come a long way indeed.

“Current, do you promise to remain loyal to your campmates, come what may?” Shell asked.

“I do,” Current’s response held no note of hesitation or uncertainty. This was a cat that understood how deep the bonds between the shipwrecked cats ran, and would defend those bonds with his life.

“Then I grant you your full status as an adult of our group. Current–”

“Wait,” The single word stopped Shell’s speech in its tracks. Sand cocked his head curiously. This wasn’t part of the newly established procedure, but he trusted his apprentice.

Current scanned the gathered cats surrounding him, and when he spoke, his words were as much for them as for Shell. “Moons ago, when we first arrived here, many of us took new names to represent the great change that had transformed us from strangers to a family of survivors. When I took my new name, I did not fully understand that. I thought only of an exciting new name, like we were all playing some sort of game. But I understand it now.” 

He would never have admitted this two moons ago, Sand thought. That alone was evidence of how much he had changed.

“Are you saying you wish to take another new name?” Shell asked uncertainly.

“Not exactly,” Current shook his head. “My name has become part of me. Regardless of the reason I took it, it marks a turning point in my life. But I am not the same cat that I was all those moons ago. I’ve changed and grown in so many ways, and I would like something added to my name to reflect that. Now that I’ve reached another turning point in my life, my acceptance as a full adult among all of you, it seems like the right time.”

Sand felt the truth, the rightness of his campmate’s words deep in his bones. Current had changed, and he deserved a name that reflected that change fully.

“What would you like added?” Shell asked warmly.

“I want all of you to decide,” Current meowed. “You were the ones that watched me grow up. What do you think would best reflect my journey to adulthood?”

At this, the gathered cats began murmuring among themselves. 

“It’s a good idea,” Brokenmast said to Tidechaser. “It seems right for his name to change along with him. But how should he change it?” 

“Perhaps ‘Rushing Current’,” Tidechaser suggested. “He has always charged headfirst into everything, but now rather than being swept up by the undertow of his boldness, he has become the guiding force behind the current.” It was a good idea, but something about it didn’t quite fit, in Sand’s opinion.

“Maybe Current-Octopus,” Splash sniggered to Foam, who rolled his eyes lightly at that, “since he seems to like them so much.” Sand flicked an ear with annoyance. Splash was a great cat, but sometimes he couldn’t quite read the moment.

“Current of the Storm?” 

“Wildcurrent?” 

None of the names were right. None of them represented the young tom’s growth, his love for his campmates, his bold heart. Suddenly, Sand had it. “His name should be Currentheart.”

Current’s eyes locked with Sand’s as the name rung out above the din. The other cats gradually fell quiet, sensing that something important was happening here. “He should be Currentheart, because he has always, always been bold and brave. Sometimes that got him into trouble, when he didn’t think things through. But as I have watched him grow, somewhere along the way, that boldness stopped serving himself and started serving the cats around him. Think. Current has a way of lifting others up, of reaching out to the cats around him even when they don’t think they need it. Tidechaser, who was the first cat to really reach out to you?” Tidechaser blinked slowly, and nodded. “Spindle, who told you stories in the nursery when you felt alone?” 

“Current did,” the young molly looked at her paws. “I know all of you loved me and cared for me, but Current made sure to tell me what was going on. What he’d seen while training. It got me into trouble once but… I appreciated it.” 

Sand nodded and moved on. “Splash, who challenged you to new heights by providing a rival to compete against?” 

Splash’s eyes glinted with pride, and Sand knew that it was pride not only in himself, but in his friend as well. Current really had come to be special to each and every one of them. “Current’s heart has always been the strongest thing about him, and when I look at him now, I see a cat who will put others first, no matter the cost to himself, who will never let anyone feel sad or alone or afraid for long. So his name should be Currentheart.” Sand’s jaws closed with a definitive snap, bringing his speech to an end. When his eyes met Current’s once more, he could see love and gratitude brimming in their amber depths. 

“Thank you,” he meowed unsteadily. “Thank you, Sand. For teaching me. For believing in me. For seeing me. Yes, I want to be Currentheart. I don’t know if I’m really all the things you say I am but I swear, I will try to be.”

“Then Currentheart it is,” Shell purred.

“Current, we name you Currentheart in honor of your boldness and your loving heart, and we welcome you as a full member of our group.” 

Somehow, that didn’t seem like a good enough end to it. Sand tilted his head back, opened his jaws, and yowled “Currentheart! Currentheart!” up into the clear blue sky. After a pawful of heartbeats, the rest of the camp joined in.

“Nah,” Currentheart purred, “you just winded me. That was a great move there at the end though, the way you used that boulder to push off gave your attack a lot of force. You completely broke my stance.”

“Thanks,” Sand replied, looking a little embarrassed to be praised by his former apprentice. Maybe it had sounded a little too condescending. It was hard, being the youngest cat here and yet still being put in charge of a training session. But, well, it had been his idea to train this way in the first place, so it was up to him to make sure it went the way he imagined.

“Do you think you could teach me how to do it?” Currentheart asked, hoping that putting the role of teacher back into Sand’s paws would diffuse the awkwardness.

“Of course!” Sand purred. You just brace your front paws against the ground while you lift your back paws to the rock, and then push out as hard as you can! You need to be careful to get enough forward momentum that you don’t plummet right to the ground, though…”

Sand’s advice turned out to be well founded, when Currentheart ended up skidding across the ground instead of shooting through the air. 

“That will come in handy if we ever find ourselves under attack from an army of worms.” The delivery was so deadpan that it took Currentheart a moment to realize that Tidechaser was making a joke. When it finally sank in, though, he laughed until he was wheezing all over again. Sand just sat there with his jaw hanging open.

“So you do have a sense of humor!” Currentheart gasped when he got enough air to speak again. 

Tidechaser just blinked solemnly, but Currentheart could see the gleam of amusement in the huge tom’s eyes. 

“Well, do you think that’s enough for today?” Sand meowed, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I think that’s a perfect place to stop for now,” Currentheart agreed. “The practice will come in handy if foxes or other cats decide to attack us, especially since we’re two cats down, but we shouldn’t exhaust ourselves or we’ll be useless.”

“A wise call,” Tidechaser commented. “Besides, I’m sure that Foam and Brokenmast would appreciate some extra prey more than anything just now.”

Currentheart dipped his head in agreement, indicating that Tidechaser should lead them to a hunting spot of his choice. As Tidechaser took the lead, Currentheart fell into step beside Sand, who bumped his shoulder affectionately. “Great job today,” Sand purred. “You’ve grown into quite the skilled young leader.”

Currentheart felt his pelt grow warm. “I wasn’t trying to order you around,” he mumbled apologetically. 

His former mentor blinked wide green eyes. “I wasn’t being sarcastic. You’ve really come into your own these last few moons. You’re a talented young cat. You’ve clearly got a bright future ahead of you, and I look forward to seeing what it brings.”

“Thanks,” he purred sheepishly. Sand might not be his mentor any longer, but praise from the cream colored tom still felt just as valuable to Currentheart as it had when he was an apprentice. “I wouldn’t be the cat I am today without you, you know that, right?”

“I think you always had it in you,” Sand murmured, “and I think you would have found it with or without my guidance. But I’m proud of you either way, and prouder still that I got to be the one to teach you. Even if you were a pain in the tail at times.” 

“Can I have a new name too?” Spindle piped up cautiously. “I’ve changed a lot as well, and I’d like something to reflect that.”

Currentheart peered over the head of his former teacher, Sand, who was weaving around him happily. 

“That doesn’t seem quite right,” Currentheart meowed gently. “You’ve changed a lot, but my new name was meant to mark a turning point. A transition from youth to adulthood. It took a long time for me to find my paws and set them on the right path, and I don’t think that it would have meant as much if I’d changed my name before completing my training and being welcomed as a full adult.”

Spindle felt her heart sink. None of them ever took her all that seriously. She was still a kit in their eyes, she knew it. In Currentheart’s eyes especially, and somehow, that hurt worst of all. But she knew that his words were right, in a way. She did have some learning and growing left to do. Suddenly, the inspiration hit her. “Then until I’m worthy of my own special name, I’d like to be called ‘Spindlepaw’. You said it took a long time for you to put your paws on the right path. So the ‘paw’ can represent that I’m still on that journey. Maybe it can mean the same thing for others, too.” 

Currentheart met her gaze warmly. “Spindlepaw… I like that. I look forward to hearing your full name someday soon.”