#mouse squeaks

He digs his claws into the stone beneath him as Thornclaw, fresh from the grief of losing his sister, who Firestar named and Leafpool had healed countless times, calls for his daughter to be exiled from ThunderClan. Dustpelt, sometimes-faltering but always-fair, calls for her to simply lose her position. Mouseburr cries that Thornclaw is right, and Firestar can’t help but remember the way her glare glittered when Longtail challenged him for his right to be in ThunderClan countless seasons ago. And Longtail, loyal and understanding what it is like when tragedy attacks you like a dog, rebuts that she can learn the life of a warrior, once she’s done learning the life of a queen, and Leafpool’s dearest friend Sorreltail, full of the grief of losing her brother, bristles to ask what that’s supposed to mean. Her mate Brackenfur, fresh from losing his littermate, stands beside her and cleans Cinderkit with steady licks, and Firestar finds himself envious of the tom, able to grieve Cinderpelt in peace.

Sandstorm steps up to his side as Crowfeather comforts a miserable Leafpool in the leader’s den behind him. Firestar wishes desperately that Graystripe were on his other side, able to sway the Clan with his words of love and devotion across Clan lines, but instead the wind blows cold and the Clan clamors and Sandstorm whispers quietly in his ear that he needs to do something, and that she doesn’t think the Clan will stand for Leafpool remaining in her position.

Firestar knows she is right, but something in him wails and breaks - must he always fight for his place in ThunderClan? For his kits’ place? He wishes Cinderpelt were here. She took on more of Yellowfang’s attitude than he did, and always knew just how to resolve this sort of impossible issue. 

“Fine,” he hears himself say. “I hear your concerns. Leafpool will not remain medicine cat.” He hears his daughter sob behind him. Cinderpelt loved her, took just as much delight in training Leafpool as Firestar had found in training Cinderpaw. “She will give up her life’s calling, but no other Clan has a fully trained medicine cat able to provide ThunderClan aid.” This, finally, quiets the clearing. Too caught up in righteous persecution to consider the full results of their actions, he thinks grimly, and lashes his tail. “So she will first train one of you to take her place. Who will step forward to claim the title of medicine cat?”

He finds spiteful satisfaction in the discomfort of the Clan below him, in the way everyone shuffles their paws and looks around, hoping that someone else will take responsibility for their actions. “Brightheart, you have some knowledge of herbs,” he says, and she makes eye contact with him. He gives her the slightest of nods - he knows she does not want this, but he must make his point.

“She can’t!” Thornclaw cries, and Cloudtail leaps to his feet.

“She has a mate,” his nephew spits, anger in every strand of fur on his pelt. 

Firestar drives the thorn in deeper. “She would need to renounce her mate,” he agrees simply. “But you’re right, surely that would be too much to ask of her. A cat without mate or kits would be ideal. Longtail, for example, would be fit for the role.”

“He doesn’t have the temperament for it!” cries Mouseburr.

“He’s retired. He shouldn’t need to leave his retirement as a result of Leafpool’s mistake,” calls Spiderleg.

“Would you like to be medicine cat then?” Firestar asks the young warrior. “You have no mate or kits, and plenty of life ahead of you to dedicate to healing your Clan.” It takes all he has to keep his voice flat and cordial, putting on the airs of a leader making any other decision for his Clan. 

“You can’t do that to my son,” Dustpelt snarls, ears pulled back and tail lashing. “He has already lost so much.” Leafpool’s loss, of course, means nothing to him. 

“Who then?” Firestar demands, leaning over the edge of the highledge. “You are so quick to call for her demotion, so who will take her place? Or is it only easy to lose everything you have worked for when it isn’t you losing it?” he yowls, unable to keep his voice steady or even. “Can you only demand suffering when it doesn’t affect you and your kin?”

“Firestar,” Sandstorm hisses to him. “Stop this.”