#figdream

The Elders once passed on tales of how the cats used to not need an invite before talking to StarClan. Rootember couldn’t understand why not; it seemed rude to walk into their ancestors’ den uninvited. It was the duty of the medicine cat to look for these invitations, and safekeep who goes in and out– to protect the camp that StarClan claimed in the living world. It’s also where the medicine cats would meet every half moon.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Rootember followed Figdream inside the den, saying goodbye to the cool outside breeze as they plunged into the stale damp air below. They padded on a declining slope. Rootember had to dig her claws into the earth to help keep herself from slipping. Figdream rested his tail on her shoulder, helping to guide the to-be leader until the ground leveled out.

“Hey Figdream,” Rootember mewed softly. She didn’t want to speak too loudly, in case it wrongfully disturbed the spirits of their ancestors before they were ready. “Do you ever feel like you might not be cut out for something? Like you’re not ready for what you have to experience, like it’s too soon?”

“Sure,” the younger tom answered. He looked back at her, hardly able to make her out in the dimness of the tunnel. “This is the first time I’ve guided a leader through StarClan’s den for them to receive their lives. I’ve come here many times before, but I wasn’t sure if I had the courage to make it tonight. This is a big deal, you know? But there will always be a first time for everything. There’s rarely a time when it’ll be soon enough for anyone.”

Rootember dipped her head, appreciative for Figdream’s council. He was right. She had to do this, for the safety of the Clan. “Who do you think will be here tonight?”

Figdream let out a quiet puff of laughter, “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Before long, the tunnel narrowed and the two cats came across a strange rectangular stone sitting on rounded paws. It smelled bitter, and the faint scent of Twolegs and dust clung to it– a sign of bygone times when Twolegs frequented the tunnel. It was wedged sideways in the center of the pathway, though it left just enough room at the side for the cats to squeeze through. There was a small opening in the wall on the other side

“You got this,” Figdream smiled and nodded encouragingly. Rootember butted her head against his, then quickly turned to enter the opening.

The tunnel here was small and cramped. Rootember flinched as the walls closed in enough that it could be felt on her whiskers on either side. Luckily, this tunnel was short, and the walls opened up to reveal a small barely lit chamber full of pointed rocks. On all walls, and some of the pointed rocks, there were smaller colorful specks that seemed to glow in the dark and twinkle like stars. With every pawstep that Rootember took, everything seemed to be alive with a dancing shimmer, as if this cave had been able to steal away a piece of Silverpelt.

This is the Cave of Hidden Stars. StarClan cats would leave Silverpelt and visit their sacred den just to talk to HavenClan. Rootember swallowed a lump in her throat, the normally-calm cat awestruck and nervous of the beauty around her. She approached the back wall of glittering stone-bound stars and tucked her paws under her, touching her nose to the wall. Her growling stomach made it hard to clear her mind to sleep, but the exhaustion of the journey did it for her.

When Rootember opened her eyes again, she was in the same chamber but washed in a spectral blue color. Where there had been only Rootember before, now the cave was alive with starry cats stirring from their nests. Rootember’s breath caught in her chest at the sight of fallen friends old and new, family and loved ones, and other ghosts that she had never met.

One of the many starry cats approaches her, though is someone Rootember doesn’t recognize. The stranger was a beautiful white she-cat with brown spots speckling her back and face, her tail ringed with stripes matching the color of her spots. Rootember could feel her heart pulse in her ears as the she-cat’s pale blue eyes made contact with hers. Whoever this cat was, it was clear that she commanded the air around her.

“My name is Redfern,” she said, something about her voice made her feel familiar like an old friend. Warm and welcoming, confident and sure. “You meet me tonight, but the cats under your care will all meet me one day when they join the stars. For now,” she pressed her nose to Rootember’s forehead. A chill ran through the brow she-cat as a feeling indescribable ran through her, making her shiver from head to toe as if leaf-bare had swept through the cavern. “Take this gift, to help you endure in the face of hardship.”

Redfern then stepped back, allowing the other cats in the cavern to share their remaining 8 lives. Rootember couldn’t help but notice some uncertain looks shared between some of the cats, as if they knew something she didn’t. Did they believe in her? Would she make it as Clan leader? But soon, the old leader of HavenClan stepped forward to bless Rootember with another life. All anxious doubts soon melted away.

It felt like several days and nights had passed before the ceremony was finished. Rootember was trembling with the newfound power of nine lives at her paw tips, her chest heaving as she shoulders the intensity and pain that came with each soul that entered her body. But she stood strong and proud, lifting her head up high. Some of the StarClan cats mewed with approval.

“I hail you by your new name,” Redfern purred with a glint in her eye that Rootember could not quite discern. “Rootstar, your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of HavenClan. Defend it well; care for the young and old; honor your ancestors and the tradition of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity.” Then, the beautiful StarClan cat stepped forward, her muzzle right next to Rootstar’s ear. “Our way of life depends on you and the choices you will make. Don’t disappoint.”

Redfern pulled away and lifted her head high, “Rootstar! Rootstar!”

Soon the other cats followed, chanting Rootstar’s new name with pride and vigor. It was over before long, as in a heartbeat the ghostly cats were gone. Rootstar was quick to wake, her new name echoing in her ears as she was cast in darkness yet again.

His stores were running low on tansy and garlic, which meant he had to go out and fetch some more. Newleaf is young, so there shouldn’t be a problem finding any, he thought. He could always check for herbs around the abandoned Twoleg garden, some cobwebs from the ditches by the fallen log that marked the entrance to the training hollow, moss from the trees around the river–

A squeal sounded from the nursery den, startling Figdream from his thoughts. He padded curiously to the nursery, ears alert for sounds of distress. His fur began to lie flat when he realized it had only been Frogkit playing with Cragquiver and Sunpatch.

Cragquiver must have come to relieve Sunpatch of kit-sitting duties. Last night had been Sunpatch’s turn to watch over Frogkit, which meant Cragquiver would look after her this morning giving Sunpatch the chance to breathe fresher air. Currently, Sunpatch sat outside of the nursery entrance chuckling at the display of Frogkit pouncing on Cragquiver. Ah, Figdream thought, it must be another game of capture-the-warrior.

“Good morning,” Figdream mewed as he approached.

“Good morning Figdream,” purred Sunpatch, licking her whiskers and dipping down low for a stretch.

“Morning there,” Cragquiver grunted, scrunching his face as Frogkit batted at his nose. “Easy there. No claws, remember?”

Figdream chuckled and turned to Sunpatch, “I need to go out and search for herbs. Would you like to come with me?”

“Oh, would I!” Sunpatch shook herself and padded closer to Figdream. She glanced over her shoulder at the other two with a purr, “I’ve been cooped up in the nursery all day yesterday.”

“Then a walk sounds like something you’d need,” Figdream laughed and waved goodbye to the other two wrestling cats with his tail. He began padding out of camp with Sunpatch following close behind.

It was good to be out of the grotto where HavenClan called home. Sunlight filtered through the fresh green leaves and pink blossoms on the trees, leaving quaking dapple patterns on the ground. Birds were singing new yet familiar tunes, and it was still early enough for the crickets to join their song. The cool dew on the grass felt refreshing underpaw and cooling on the cats’ pelts. Taking in a deep breath, Figdream was certain that a walk was what he needed, too. The stress of last night finally seemed to be melting away. “It’s a beautiful morning,” Sunpatch commented, and he agreed.

The morning passed as well as Figdream could have hoped. As expected, there were plenty of herbs to gather at the Twoleg garden. Figdream instructed Sunpatch how to harvest what they needed. It was quiet and busy work, and soon enough both cats had an impressive pile of leaves and roots to take back to camp.

“Have you ever thought about taking on an apprentice?” Sunpatch asked when they had decided to take a break and clean themselves of dust and dirt.

“A bit,” Figdream admitted while licking a paw and swiping it over an ear. “There’s not enough young paws at camp for me to consider it very much.”

“What about Frogkit? She’s very smart.”

“Maybe, but that’s not a choice to make right now. There’s time to consider.”

“I’d love to mentor Frogkit,” Sunpatch purred. “I’d get to continue to watch her grow into a strong warrior.”

Figdream’s tail flicked dismissively, “You and Cragquiver do a good job raising her, but I think it’d be wiser for Frogkit to have someone else as a mentor. She needs to learn new skills and how to be on her own without you two carrying her paws.”

Sunpatch fell quiet for a heartbeat then, then glanced at the golden tabby tom warily. Figdream could see the sparks of insecurity settle in and sighed. Between her and Cragquiver breathed insecurity as much as they do air. “Do you think,” Sunpatch began, “we are being too overbearing on her?”

“No,” Figdream said simply, “But you can’t expect to be next to her all the time. She needs her own experiences and her own thoughts to think. She’s just a kitten now, but she won’t always be.”

Sunpatch narrowed her eyes and nodded as she tried to take Figdream’s words to heart. Figdream couldn’t help but feel some admiration for her. Sunpatch never had kits of her own, so he could see the challenge of raising someone else’s. He had no doubt that Sunpatch and Cragquiver would raise the orphaned kitten excellently and with as much love and care as if Frogkit were their own flesh and blood.

“Words to take to heart, no matter the cat,” came the purr of a new voice. Figdream glanced about, eyes wide until he found the source perched high in the branch of a tree. As soon as he caught her eye, he frowned deeply.

“What is it?” Sunpatch asked, leaning in. “Are you alright?”

“StarClan is here.”

Sunpatch looked startled, then glanced around as if she would be able to find any strange, starry cats. She began to lick her fur in an attempt at a last-minute groom. “Where? Who? Aren’t they supposed to visit us through their den at the Cave of Hidden Stars? Why are they here?”

Figdream’s ear flicked, but didn’t answer. Instead, he watched as the pretty white-and-brown speckled she-cat hopped down from the tree, her starry pelt twinkling. She cast no shadow, as if the sun couldn’t touch her.

Redfern.

Redfern was a very old StarClan member, one of the first from HavenClan. Figdream had never felt comfortable around her; she was a troublemaker, and too confident in her place as a guide to other cats. Her smug demeanor had never settled right with him, and Figdream didn’t like how she treated other cats around her– as if she saw herself as the leader of StarClan.

He gestured with his tail for Sunpatch to crouch down with him and tuck their paws beneath them so that they could more easily communicate with the StarClan guide.

“That’s not necessary,” Redfern said, “I’m only here to speak with you, Figdream. Sunpatch doesn’t need to know.”

“Then what do you want,” Figdream snapped, “and make it quick.”

“Moody today, aren’t we?” Redfern sat between the two cats and hooked her tail over her paws.

“It was a nice day, until you showed up.” Amusement danced in the ghostly cat’s eyes, though horror rooted in Sunpatch’s at Figdream’s disrespect. He ignored it; he didn’t have to like Redfern, and he was not afraid to make it known. “What do you need to talk to me about?”

Redfern licked her paw and drew it over herself casually, “I have a prophecy to share.” Her pale blue eyes landed on Figdream. His hackles raised under her smug gaze. Sunpatch touched his side with the tip of her tail, and he was reminded that there are things bigger here than his distaste for the rude she-cat. He nodded for Redfern to continue, ignoring the satisfied smirk on her muzzle.

“Destruction falls when one becomes five.”

“Hm,” Figdream grunted, “How vague, as always.”

“What did they say?” Sunpatch’s eyes were wide.

“Things I’ll have to discuss with Rootstar about.” Figdream pushed himself to his paws.

“Leaving so soon?” Redfern teased.

“Well, do you have anything else to tell me?”

Redfern tilted her head with a smile, “No. Just be sure to remember my words.” She stood up and began to walk away, calling over her shoulder, “Keep HavenClan alive, won’t you? We’re safe as we are, and we’ll stay safe if you listen to me.” The she-cats pelt began to fade away, and in a blink of an eye she was gone.

Sunpatch reluctantly got to her paws when Figdream busied himself with a bundle of herbs. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Figdream mumbled around a mouthful of leaves. “Let’s just get back to camp.”