#frostcrest

Shielding her eyes with a paw, she squints at her surroundings, then gasps. The rudimentary, half scraped together den of moss she fell asleep in underneath the wide, low branch of a tree on the mountainside is gone. Instead, there are stars everywhere.

They’re close enough that she could reach out and bat them around with her paws. Quite suddenly, she’s overcome with a kit-like desire to do just that. Pounce on a nearby star, wrestle it to the ground, and toss it with her back feet. A rush of giddiness sweeps through her as she looks around, stars as far as the eye can see and misty, snow-white clouds that swirl around her paws.

Against the raven-black backdrop of the sky, a collection of stars just beyond her reach takes shape, coalescing into the form of a young kitten. Moonpool gapes, staring in shock as the cat fully comes to be, bounding towards her with bouncing steps and a pelt sprinkled with starlight.

“...Condorkit?”

“Hi, Moonpaw!” The starry kit grins, her pelt as dark as the sky. Even with starlight streaking her fur and her eyes aglow with moonlight, there’s no mistaking it. This is Condorkit! “Or, Moonpool now, right? I’ve missed playing moss ball with you. You were the best moss ball player.”

“I… I haven’t seen you since before the camp caved in.” Moonpool’s voice cracks, a sudden swell of grief slashing through her chest as she looks down upon Condorkit’s shining, smiling face. If this is another one of Moonpool’s nightmares, it’s almost worse than the ones where she fails to warn her Clan again, and again, and again.

“Let’s stay focused, Condorkit,” A deeper voice mews, cutting through Moonpool’s maudlin thoughts, another constellation of stars taking shape.

“Dad!” Moonpool cries, rushing forward to bonk her head with his, relieved to find it solid against her own.

Cliffstripe mrrps with laughter, the sound of it rumbling through his throat as he nuzzles against his daughter’s head. “I’ve missed you, darling. It’s so lovely to see you again.”

“What’s going on?” Moonpool pulls back, looking between the two starry cats with confusion. “Why can I see you? Am I dreaming?”

“It’s your leader ceremony!” Condorkit chirps. “We’re here to give you your nine lives!”

“My–?”

More and more cats begin to take shape behind the two already present, Clan members Moonpool knew in life and some she doesn’t recognize. Seeming to melt straight out of the sky, Pitchstar steps forward to the front, his presence commanding in the lithe stretch of muscle under his panther-like pelt. Hovering just in front of his forehead is a star so bright, Moonpool feels almost as though she may have to shield her eyes again.

“Indeed it is,” Pitchstar mews smoothly, a pleased smile gracing a muzzle gray with age. He stands delicately before Moonpool, front paws together as he regards her.

“But I didn’t… I didn’t commune with StarClan on purpose,” Moonpool says in a rush. “I– there’s not even a clan to lead.”

“We will always be available to you in your time of need, Moonpool. StarClan is with you always. It is time for you to lead NimbusClan into a new future.”

“Me first!” Condorkit yowls, knocking into Pitchstar’s legs as she bounds forward to stand on wobbly hind legs in front of Moonpool. A smile twitches the corner of Moonpool’s muzzle. She’s going to miss her Clan even more fiercely when she wakes. “Me first. Okay. I’m giving you your first life for tireless energy.”

A gasp punches out of Moonpool’s throat as Condorkit touches her nose to Moonpool’s forehead, a sense of vitality surging within her and burning all the way out to her claws and the tip of her tail. It… it hurts, the surge of energy, and she finds herself gritting her teeth as Condorkit grins as she drops back to all four paws, turning tail and bouncing back into the group of assembled StarClan cats.

Next, Cliffstripe and Frostcrest pad forward.

“Mom,” Moonpool mews, voice choked with emotion as the burning pain recedes, leaving her paws tingling, “dad.” She butts her head against each of theirs, brushing her pale pelt between their starry ones. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know that I’m meant to lead.”

“Sometimes,” her mother begins, voice gentle, “these responsibilities are thrust upon us, and it is wiser to let the river carry you than to fight it upstream.” Frostcrest smiles at her. There’s a slight bow to her eyebrows, something in her expression that Moonpool recognizes as worry, but Frostcrest continues before Moonpool can ask her what’s wrong. “You will be an amazing leader, kit. Stay true to you. Your Clan needs you now. I give you this life for confidence.”

“And I, a life for mercy. Tell your brother that we miss him, too,” Cliffstripe adds, and both of Moonpool’s parents lean forward to press their noses to her forehead. She braces against the rush this time as it surges through her, an alternating sensation of warm and cool, feeling as though it could lift her off of her paws.

Froststripe gives her one last lick to her shoulder, eyes sad but muzzle smiling as she turns with Cliffstripe and walks back into the crowd of cats.

Another kit bounds forward, a brown tabby with eyes that glow with ethereal light.

“Whisperkit,” Moonpool greets warmly, bending to speak with him face to face.

“Never give up, okay?” The seriousness in Whisperkit’s quiet tone is almost enough to make Moonpool chuckle, if the circumstances were different. If Whisperkit were still alive. “I give you this life for hope.”

Loudtalon, NimbusClan’s medicine cat, pads forward. “You’ve always been smart, Moonpool. Keep it up. I give you this life for wisdom.”

“If you weren’t fit to be leader, you wouldn’t have made it this far,” Pebblespore, the deputy, assures. “I give you this life for certainty.”

Currentpaw swaggers from the crowd, grinning at Moonpool. She used to be bigger than Moonpool, in life. Now, Moonpool is tall enough to look down at her. Friendly challenge is bright in her ghostly eyes. “You never could beat me in our sparring sessions, but I bet you’d be able to now. Keep practicing, so you can always keep your clan safe. I give you this life for strength.”

Finally, Pitchstar steps forward, his black pelt almost indistinguishable from the night sky surrounding them. There is pride in his gaze as he stares unwaveringly into Moonpool’s eyes, and something more. Something indecipherable. “You will make a fine leader, Moonstar. I would choose no other cat to follow in my pawsteps. NimbusClan is yours, now. I will ensure that you succeed.”

A shiver works its way through Moonpool’s fur, despite the lack of sensation up here above the clouds. With a start, she realizes she’s not cold, nor warm. There is no wind that ruffles her fur, no firm ground beneath her paws. She is snared by Pitchstar’s eyes, inches from her own, intense and otherworldly.

“I give you this life for protection.” He presses his black nose to her head, a sudden, violent burst of pain twisting through her that feels like she’s run full speed into a rock wall, then turns with the swish of a long tail. Moonpool stares at his retreating back. The pain fades and she feels full of vibrant energy, near to bursting.

She’s just beginning to wonder how she’s supposed to get back to her living body, back to her brother, when her thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of another cat. “You are not done yet. You have one more life left to receive.” Moonpool doesn’t recognize this cat. They’re dark-furred, with a ticked pelt and naked, scarred paws. “I am Oddghost, one of NimbusClan’s prior medicine cats, long before your time. You will face many challenges, Moonpool. Walk always in the path of StarClan, with your brother at your side. Believe not just in your ancestors, but in your own power. In the power of your Clanmates. You are only as strong as your Clan. I grant you your final life for faith.”

Moonpool’s final life surges into her, seeping through her body with such strength her vision whites out, the starry cats in front of her fading from view.

“Lead NimbusClan well, Moonstar.”

No wind blows here in StarClan. Frostcrest settles delicately beside the leader she had in life, curling her tail neatly over her paws.

“She’s hardly more than a kit, Pitchstar.”

“Moonpaw will not fall,” The old, dark bengal replies. His eyes are fixed unwaveringly on the churning, writhing clouds below him. Frostcrest’s gaze drifts to it. A blurry, rippled image of her son floats amidst the mist. He pads along a mountain trail, unaware that the eyes of StarClan are upon him. 

Frostcrest’s face twitches, her whiskers tightening. 

“After all,” Pitchstar continues, “she has her brother with her.”