#dawnmoth

Everything was silent. Every hair still, every mouth gaping open in awe as the three cats stared at the glowing Moonstone. Its light illuminated the cavern in a silver-blue glow.

It occurred to Rainbur that since Cedarsky had only recently chosen to become Shadowclan’s medicine cat, all three cats were seeing this wonder for the first time. 

The stone before them was glowing with the light of Starclan, even if the source was of the moon. Rainbur couldn’t help but wonder, as he stared at the brightness, if his ancestors were staring right back from within.

At last, he realized that he should touch his nose to it before the moon shifted and the light was gone. He padded forward until he was a whisker away, then crouched low. Breath quickening, he pressed his muzzle against the Moonstone before he could hesitate any further, holding back a flinch as the freezing surface numbed his snout.

At first, nothing seemed amiss. Then Rainbur noticed that the black spots behind his eyelids were spreading like thin tendrils, bending and twisting together until his vision was plunged into utter blackness.

Were they rejecting him?

Had it not been a vision Houndpaw had had after all?

Was he not good enough to lead Shadowclan?

A drop, like a white spider web dangling in the center of his eyes. Rainbur blinked. When had he opened his eyes? The string grew, trodding gracefully, and others began to sink through the air and to the ground as well, where they too grew in a gentle dance.

As the outlines neared, their details became more obvious. They were cats! Rainbur could hardly resist a gasp. Their ears, whiskers, tails, they were all too clear to be mistaken for anything else, and Rainbur felt foolish for thinking them as simple strings.

His heart pounded. So many eyes were suddenly on him as they circled, blocking him in. Would he have felt such judgment if he were becoming leader under different circumstances? If the leader before him had not promised to Starclan to lead well only to turn around and murder his own Clanmates? They still gave him nine lives in spite of the horrors he had inflicted. Would they now decide to spurn Rainbur of any? Would they see Shadowclan as too unfit for anyone to lead?

“Breathe,” a voice whispered softly. Rainbur would have thought that it was a trick of the mind as a breeze passed his ear, but the air was still. He looked around the starry pelts, mind dizzy with the amount of cats that were watching him, until someone stepped forward.

Outside of the ranks of what must be at least several dozen silver pelts, the cat’s colour became clearer. “Mom!” Rainbur gasped. His throat tightened all too quickly, blocking all he wanted to say to his lost kin.

But his mother smiled warmly at him, as if she heard it all anyway. “My darling kit,” she said quietly, “you have been through so much grief, yet you’ve done more for the Clan that even you realize.” She leaned forward, touching her nose to Rainbur’s head. “With this life, I give you bravery. May you carry it in your heart as you do I, always.”

Rainbur’s eyes stung, but not because his head felt like it was going to split open. Oatflight still smelt as she did when he would nurse at her belly. He wished so much that he could retreat back to those peaceful days, where all he would worry about was if he won the next came of mouse-catch. But he wasn’t a kit anymore. He was a warrior, he was going to be Shadowclan’s leader. He would not hurt them as Alderstar or Myrtlewing did. He would stand between his Clanmates and anyone or anything that dared think it could hurt them, even at the cost of all nine of his lives.

All too soon, Oatflight stepped away and disappeared in the crowd. Rainbur’s heart sank, but it lifted again when the next cat stepped forward. “Never thought I would see the day,” Owlfang sniffed good-heartedly. 

Rainbur swallowed past a massive lump. “You…You look happy.” His last memory of his brother had been of a dug-up rotting corpse with worms for eyes. It was hard to believe that he was looking at that same brother now, not alive but clearly healthy and at peace. 

Owlfang nodded. “I am now. You will be, too. I promise you that.” He touched his muzzle to Rainbur’s head. “With this life, I give you endurance. Know that Shadowclan will be at peace one day, and have the strength to lead them to that certainty. I am proud of you, brother.”

“I..I..” Rainbur wanted to speak, to say how he wished he had protected Owlfang, how he missed him so much, but his chest was on fire and for a few moments that felt like an eternity, he could focus on nothing but the flames within his ribcage. The sparks spread throughout his entire body, fueling his muscles until he felt as though he could climb any mountain, fight any beast, so long as Shadowclan could reach that era of peace.

A third cat was already in front of him when the power of that life faded. Rainbur’s heart sank at the little one before him. He had to bend down to level with her.

“Hi, Rainbur!” Fernpaw purred. “It’s an honour to be giving you a life today.”

But you shouldn’t be giving me a life. You should be in camp right now, sorting through herbs and rhyming the plants until you made a song. Rainbur wondered if she still sang little tunes in Starclan, or if Myrtlewing took that joy from her too. “It’s an honour to be receiving a life from you,” Rainbur replied out loud.

“Then let’s get to it then.” Fernpaw pressed her nose against his cheek. “With this life, I give you loyalty. May it motivate you to protect those you love and those who love you, and may it never lead you astray for the sake of anyone but your Clan.” There was a shadow over Fernpaw’s eyes. She was thinking of her mentor, the one she had cared for so deeply. The one who had murdered her for the sake of someone else. 

The shadow loomed over Rainbur, tightening around his entire body until he couldn’t move his lungs. He gasped for air, desperate for it, and right when he was sure he was about to pass out, the weight lifted and he drank in every breath with relief.

“Steady,” a she-cat advised. Rainbur whirled around. He planted his paws firmly in the ground, using every muscle in his legs to resist racing toward the cat.

Dawnmoth, his adoptive daughter, looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Hi dad.”

“H-hi.” Was all he could say back.

Chuckling, Dawnmoth padded forward until her whiskers flattened against the side of his muzzle. “With this life, I give you hope. Give it to your Clanmates as you gave it to me when my father died, and use it for yourself to lead them through any hardship.”

The stinging pain seared through Rainbur’s skin like an icicle. But it didn’t feel like an invasion, instead it was a shield that surrounded his heart, protecting it from anything that could weigh it down. It wasn’t lost on him that every life that he had so far received had mentioned something about putting his Clanmates above everything else. He wondered if every ceremony included such words, or if it was only his because of Alderstar.

Dawnmoth pulled back. Rainbur forced the pain down enough to be able to lift his head and meet her eyes. “I miss you,” she told him. “Tell Silverwhisker to name one of her kits after me, alright?”

“I don’t think I have to tell her.” Rainbur smiled.

Dawnmoth turned and padded back into the crowd. The cat beside her took her place, walking forward and pressing his chin to Rainbur’s head before any words could be exchanged between them. That was always Branchfoot’s way. 

“With this life,” he father spoke, “I give you conscientiousness. Trust yourself to know in your heart what needs to be done, and use your power as leader to accomplish it.”

“I will,” Rainbur promised. There was no pain this time, only a warm presence like a nuzzle on every part of his body. He waited patiently for the next cat, and it wasn’t long before he was facing her.

His brilliant apprentice, Pineshade. “You have come so far,” she murmured. “I’m proud to have been your apprentice.”

“And I your mentor.”

Pineshade purred. Leaning, she rubbed her cheek along his. “With this life, I give you courage. Use it as you fight every battle, from war to a thorn in your pad, and use it especially whenever you doubt yourself.”

Rainbur felt his muscles rippling beneath his pelt. He wanted to face every shadow, every fang, every claw and dare it to hurt anyone he loved.

“Trust yourself. You will be a wonderful leader,” Pineshade assured him.

“He will,” someone agreed. 

Rainbur’s heart warmed with love and ached with loss. “My love,” he whispered sadly.

“Oh, don’t give me your tears,” Blossomtuft rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re supposed to be a big strong leader now, remember.” She pressed her nose against his with such strength that Rainbur knew she, too, was resisting curling her whole body around him and never letting go. “With this life, I give you humour. Use it when everything seems bleak as the light through the darkness, because sometimes it is all we have and all we need.”

She kept her muzzle against his throughout the power of her life. It was Rainbur that had to, after a while, pull back. “I will see you again, dear,” Blossomtuft promised him. 

Rainbur watched her leave, eyes stinging once more, before turning his attention to the next cat.

Amberthistle was smiling at him as lovingly as Blossomtuft. Blossomtuft had died of sickness around the same time Amberthistle and her mate had separated. In their heartbreak, Amberthistle and Rainbur got together, raising their daughters as sisters. 

“Dear..” Rainbur murmured.

“Hello, love,” Amberthistle replied softly. “Don’t worry, I know I won’t be your mate when you join us. It’s okay, I’ll love you still.” She pressed her chin to his snout. “With this life, I give you love. Let it power your every muscle and motivate your every action. And in the rainiest of days, let it allow you to see the sun.”

By the time the life faded, Rainbur was struggling to stand. He tried to count in his head how many lives were left, but it felt cracked and broken around his skull.

“Rainbur” an unfamiliar she-cat’s voice spoke, as clear as a thought within his own head. He turned to the side to see a tall, unfamiliar black she-cat with bright green eyes. “I am Shadowstar,” she greeted. “The first leader of Shadowclan.” 

Rainbur gaped, hardly able to process who was looking at him, talking to him.

“You have such a burden on your shoulders, but I trust you are the leader that Shadowclan needs.” With that, she touched her chin to his ear. “With this life, I give you forgiveness. Forgive your Clanmates for the mistakes they make. Forgive yourself for things you cannot take back. Forgive the past when it haunts your mind, and forgive the future when all it seems to hold is darkness.”

A warm, honey-like liquid feeling dripped along Rainbur’s spine, loosening every knot and dispersing every ache, until his entire body felt entirely unburdened and clear.

Shadowstar dripped her head low, then through it to the air as she yowled to the sky. “Rainstar! Rainstar! Rainstar!”

The clearing echoed with thousands of voices, all chanting his name.

“Rainstar!”

“Rainstar!”

Every hair stood on end, as if they too wanted to flee, but were stuck clinging to the trembling body that couldn’t lift her paws off the ground. Her eyes threatened to burst from her skull if she, somehow, managed to stretch them any further. 

Perhaps she should shut them. She would shut them, and she would wake up, and she would realize that it had all been a horrible nightmare. A figment of her imagination. And what an imagination it was, too. To think that their medicine cat was trying to hide a body.

Dawnmoth had awoken early, and decided to go for an unproductive walk, catching something only if she felt like it. The Clan still had plenty of food on the fresh-kill pile, and prey was running wonderfully. Beneath the morning dew had been the scent of blood. Cat blood. She had approached the scent in case someone needed her help, keeping low and silent just to be safe.

All the scenarios in her mind– caught in a trap, caught by a fox, trapped beneath a fallen branch– could not match to the horrifying reality. Myrtlewing– her medicine cat, her friend– was digging in the soil. His eyes betrayed no emotion, his lips only moving in concentration. Their Clanmate, Wolfburn, lay a few paw steps from him, his eyes glazed over and his mouth slightly agape.

Dawnmoth, taken aback, had first decided that Wolfburn had died in an accident or something of the like, and Myrtlewing was simply doing the right thing by burying him. But why no vigil? Why no announcement to the rest of the Clan? Most importantly, where did the long, oozing scar on Wolfburn’s belly come from? And oh, oh why must Myrtlewing whistle so happily?

Dawnmoth felt as though she had been standing there, staring at the digging, at the body, for twice an eternity. Really, it had only been a few heartbeats. Long enough to sneak away again and warn the Clan. Long enough to emit  a nearly undetectable squeak of horror. Dawnmoth was unfortunate enough to do the latter.

Myrtlewing’s ears swiveled. His head whipped and his eyes focused directly on the bush Dawnmoth was hiding beneath. She didn’t wait to find out if he could see her, and fled. Her head pounded with the blood that roared in her ears, soaking into her mouth, screaming at her to vomit. She held on, swallowing, not breathing, her paws skimming the grass as though she were flying. Behind her, she could hear the frustrated growls of Myrtlewing as he thundered after.

Then Dawnmoth came crashing to a halt. So paralyzed of mind, she hadn’t noticed the tree blocking her path. Er.. tree? Shaking her head, her vision cleared, and she looked up. Dawnmoth’s shoulders slumped. She gasped in relief, almost crying. Her leader, her savior, was gazing down at her. She was safe now.

Alderstar raised a brow. He looked at Myrtlewing as the medicine cat caught up, then back at Dawnmoth, who quickly hid behind his larger frame. He raised his head and spoke with the authority of one thousand bloodlines, ears flat as he stared down Myrtlewing. “What exactly is it that you think you are doing?”

Myrtlewing didn’t bother with an answer. Clearly, he knew that he was defeated. Realization struck Dawnmoth. “He killed our Clanmates!” she growled, feeling freer to do it now that someone was with her. “Birchcloud…. Blossomtuft….Owlfang.. We thought they all left! But it was you, wasn’t it?” she forced her voice not to shake any more than it already was. Some of these Clanmates have been missing for seasons, and in all that time Myrtlewing would go about his day, acting as if nothing were wrong, laughing, joking, comforting their loved ones! 

Her throat tightened when his glowering gaze lit her, but she went on. “His latest victim was Wolfburn. I saw him digging a grave next to his body!”

Throughout Dawnmoth’s shocking announcement, Alderstar had listened silently, but Dawnmoth could feel his muscles stiffen with every word. 

“Did you kill Wolfburn?” Alderstar hissed.

Myrtlewing lifted his chin. “He was asking for it. Constantly getting one injury after another. He was wasting my herbs!”

Alderstar bared his teeth. “Was your eagerness worth it? You were lucky no one saw you kill him. You should be more cautious when you get rid of the body next time.”

What?

“How was I supposed to know?” Myrtlewing shrugged. “That’s more your area.”

What?!

Alderstar turned around. His eyes, seemingly warm moments ago, now burned with a vicious thirst, gazing at Dawnmoth as if she were delicious prey. He gave me my warrior name! 

“How am I always helping you clean up your messes?”

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Yesssss!

I’ve been waiting for so long to introduce these characters, and by that I mean the few weeks that they existed in my mind.

If you don't feel like drawing them or your too busy with other stuff, thats ok, I get it 😊

Sure! Sorry I took so long, I just had no motivation, but I finally found the motivation to do it and I think it turned out pretty good!

Keep in mind I did edit their names a tiny bit, I also added some details that I thought were nice! And the things in neon next to them is their scent!

Mousetuft for the eldest

Sunflame for the younger daughter

Thornshade for the only son

(hopefully I got the order right xdd)

big brain: mouse, sun, and thorn were the first three words Fleetsong learned to sign

'Thorn' would likely be a front paw raised with the pad upward, like how you show it when taking a thorn out.

'Mouse' would be something like twitching whiskers and biting the lip with the front teeth (Dawn probably wasn't thinking when she asked him what he wanted to eat, and he responded with the only thing he could think of).

I imagine she's mainly black and orange, with more black around her hind legs and more orange at her front (and maybe some white or tan somewhere?)

and like @frightnightindustries suggested, she has moth-like markings which are mainly large spots

Dawnmoth deserves some love what would hers be

Tag You're It by Melanie Martinez

obviously there are some differences, mainly the kidnapper being infatuated with the singer--Myrtle definitely wasn't into her, and her not being killed right away--maybe she wasn't?, but I just listened to it and it's so good so I just had to connect it to my ocs.

The chorus is most likely the moment Myrtle is chasing her through the forest.

Most-related part goes like this:

Running through the parking lot He chased me and he wouldn't stop Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it

--

Wolfburn! I wanted him to kinda resemble a werewolf

He got his name because as an apprentice, he was the first to wake to the smell of flames. The elders’ den had caught fire, and he risked his life pulling them out (with the help of others, but he was first and therefore got the worst burns).

He had to spend some time in the medicine den, but as soon as he recovered, he was given his warrior name, which honours his heroic act.

Some burns are more healed than others. You can kinda see where fur has grown over.

He is Maplefall’s mate, Boulderpaw’s and Blossomtuft’s father, Fleetsong’s, Fallendust’s, and Ivytooth’s brother, and Molespots’s and Echo’s son

Btw he is the one Dawnmoth witnessed Myrtle bury!

——