#oatstar

"He's excluding apprentices...?" whispered Beewatcher, mimicking her mother's irritated look. "What is he thinking? This affects the whole clan!"

Dappleddusk could only shake her head, her kits falling to silence as they looked to their leader. Unlike Leopardchaser's ceremony, Oatstar seemed uneasy and lacking confidence.

As cats gathered, Dappleddusk made a note of Leopardchaser emerging from the medicine cats' den. He had volunteered for every shift he could for watching over Eagleburn, and she sensed the only reason he had come out was to see if Oatstar had decided his former mentor's fate.

In tandem, the Bayspots' litter joined the clan, and Dappleddusk noted that Sandfeather seemed especially on edge. Unsurprising, given she had been the most volatile at the discovery of her mother's death. When Brightstorm left the nursery to join them, Sandfeather made a point of walking around and keeping distance between them by using Frostspots as a physical barrier.

Dappleddusk looked away before she could see Brightstorm's disappointment.

"As we all know," Oatstar began, bringing the clan to a quiet. "We have had some... Issues in the clan, regarding Eagleburn."

"Yeah, no foxdung," grumbled Sandfeather, who was promptly quieted by Sparrowshadow.

"Given as this affects the whole clan, I was thinking of... taking a vote."

Disbelief rippled through the crowd, and Dappleddusk felt her hackles raise. What kind of spineless act was this? Their leader was to guide them and provide definitive answers! Was Oatstar going to evade his duties by forcing them onto his clan?

"Does the vote include exile?" Sandfeather asked loudly, and was met with a hiss to be quiet by Sparrowshadow. "What? He killed! Whether or not it was in self-defense, he murdered one of us--"

"Eagleburn has done nothing but support you and your kin, along with the whole clan, this whole time!"

The rising whispers silenced with the caterwaul of Leopardchaser, eyes turning upon the once meek apprentice, now bristled warrior, as he stared Sandfeather down. The she-cat met his gaze with a flinch of surprise, but she merely flattened her ears.

"Is killing my mother supportive?!" she countered, and Leopardchaser slammed a forepaw against the dirt.

"She attacked him! Eagleburn has done nothing but be a truthful member of this clan, why would he start lying now? He said he knew what he did was wrong and turned himself in--a murderer would have tried to hide it! Or dumped the body!"

"My mother would never just--"

"Enough!"

Nose-to-nose, the battle-ready warriors were split up by Dappleddusk diving between them, pushing them apart with broad, scarred shoulders.

"Oatstar!"

Turning, tail lashing, she met the timid gaze of their leader.

"We need your guidance on this. This is not a decision the clan can make--" She flicked her tail in reference to the two agitated cats on either side of her. "Without ripping each other's pelts off."

"Ah, well, but..."

Oatstar shrunk, and Dappleddusk felt all of her faith slowly drain. Was Eagleburn really the true leader of this clan, simply operating in the shadows?

"We need your guidance, Oatstar," called Beewatcher, and was met by an uneasy chorus of her peers who, too, needed the voice of a strong leader to show them the way. Yet, Oatstar only shrunk further back against the Great Oak, though with leaf-bare upon them, the branches of the Great Oak offered no coverage for the anxious tom-cat.

"I... I... I actually need to... Talk to... StarClan about this."

"What?"

Before Dappleddusk could follow up on her shock--Oatstar was on the move.

Incredulous, she could only watch as their valiant leader appointed by none other than Darkstar herself fled with his tail between his legs, scrabbling down the claw-marked bark of the Great Oak.

"Is he--?"

Beewatcher's whispered dismay reflected Dappleddusk's own shocked heart as Oatstar took off into the surrounding forest, darting around an apprentice who had sneaked out to see the drama. He wasn't headed in the direction of the Sky Splinter.

Eagleburn's absence was felt with a distinctive, ominous air. Many had begun to realize how he was the sticky sap keeping them all together, Oatstar's necessary shadow and guiding paw. It had been three days since Eagleburn's banishment to the medicine cats' den, and little had been decided.

But, at the deputy's insistence, Oatstar had conceded that the clan needed this bright spot of hope more than ever.

"It has been a tough few days, but I hope you all can find joy in this moment like I will," Oatstar began, looking out over his collected clan. He noted that the Bayspots' litter were absent, and Suntuft and Brightstorm were in the mouth of the nursery, watching, but distant. He tried not to think of it, looking down and spotting Leopardpaw anxiously shifting from paw to paw among the crowd.

"We have an apprentice overdue for his ceremony, that he has very much become deserving of. Leopardpaw, could you please step forward towards the Great Oak?" The whispering among the felines settled as all eyes focused upon Leopardpaw, and in that moment, the young cat figured out why his mentor pushed so much for him to have his ceremony without him. It was a distraction from the tragedy that had befallen their clan, a necessary one. He felt their gazes upon him, but unlike what he had anticipated, it felt... Warm. Joyous.

He could see his siblings, who had obtained their warrior names a moon before, sitting in the crowd, looking upon him with pride. Wolverinefreckle lifted her good paw, and Rowandawn flicked his bushy gray tail, both wearing such warm expressions.

They had led different paths--Wolverinefreckle a medicine cat and Rowandawn a mediator--which had caused them to separate from a young age, but these clan ties kept them bound together, and reminded Leopardpaw that the clan was not doomed over one incident. He could only hope they would be stronger for it.

"In place of your mentor--Beewatcher, do you believe this young cat is ready for his warrior name?"

Pulling herself up beside Leopardpaw, they shared a glance, and Beewatcher lifted her head high.

"Undoubtedly. He has demonstrated the courage and loyalty of a clan cat, and the heart of a warrior."

Oatstar nodded.

"Leopardpaw--do you promise to uphold our code, and to defend DawnClan to your dying breath?"

"I do."

"Then I declare you Leopardchaser. May your courageous heart continue to guide you along StarClan's path."

With a bunch of his haunches, Oatstar leaped down to the gathering place where newly named Leopardchaser awaited. His anxiety melted away, finally did the younger tom stand like the warrior he should be, and in his posture and lifted head, Oatstar saw a reflection of Eagleburn.

Padding forward, with the distance closed, the two cats briefly shared tongues, Oatstar licking the shoulder of Leopardchaser and Leopardchaser mimicking him.

"DawnClan, meet your newest warrior!"

His tail flagged high, and with Oatstar's cry, a chorus of Leopardchaser's new name rung out across the clearing.

Leopardchaser! Leopardchaser! Leopardchaser!

No, that was wrong. She remembered somewhere close. After so many wonderful moons of serving DawnClan, she had forgotten what it was like to experience the pain of significant loss, to lose cats near and dear to her. HillClan was like a terrible dream, a nightmare that she had to wake up from.

DawnClan was different. Here, she would not be separated from her friends, her family, her kin. Paradise had been found, and she would cling onto it until her final breath.

But, the pieces of her kingdom slowly began to fall away. In quiet, grieving vigil, she watched as one by one, original founders passed on to Silverpelt to watch over DawnClan from the ranks of StarClan. Lightstripe, Rimebright, Elmstripe... Even those had been mere kits when she had brought them to this safe place had passed, young Duskkit growing into Dusktree, and then falling to illness. But she kept on.

It was what she owed her clan, to swallow down this grief, and to put on a happy face, for she would dishonor the tragedy of HillClan and the hardships of her ancestors to collapse under this weight now.

So, she plodded on, watching as DawnClan grew and flourished, and swelled with pride with it. Yet, there was a darkness gnawing inside of her, eating away like maggots into an old carcass. Eventually, she'd be nothing but bones, and she did not know what she would do then, how she would hide all of these rotting feelings.

It was when Boulderfrost retired that something inside of her began to break.

"I'm tired, Darkstar," meekly Boulderfrost had begun, looking upon where her leader lay curled in her soft moss nest. "I think... I think it's time for me to join the elders. I'm ready."

Darkstar could not conceal the flash of hurt that shot across her face like a bolt of lightning in time, and she recognized Boulderfrost's guilt instantly. Turning away her head, not wanting to burden Boulderfrost more with her turbulent emotions, she knew she was right. Boulderfrost had pushed the limitations of how long she could reasonably serve in her position, and Darkstar would be lying to say she had not noticed how her hunting prowl had slowed and stiffened, how she took longer to bounce back from training apprentices, and how often she overslept and missed morning patrols.

Denial was not a pretty thing, but Darkstar wanted to play pretend. Just a little longer.

Yet, when she peered back, Boulderfrost's weary gaze forced her into reality.

"Of course," Darkstar agreed with a wise nod, swallowing the mouse-bile taste in her mouth, "We'll have the ceremony at sun-down, once everyone is back from patrol. You deserve to rest, Boulderfrost."

Relieved, Boulderfrost had bowed her head, and ducked out of the den to go and find her kits, clearly eager to be able to rest and focus on her family. Darkstar stared gloomily out into camp, watching Brightstorm and Suntuft prance over to their mother. Why could time not slow down for them all? How was it these young kits were already full-fledged warriors?

Brightstorm had recently announced her betrothal to Bayspots, and soon enough, she was sure they'd be announcing kits. It was moving too fast, like a swift river current dragging her under, and no matter how much she tried, she could not get her head above the frigid water, gulping it down and feeling it fill her lungs.

But she had to be strong for her clan. So, as promised, at sun-down, she brought together the clan, and with her perfected, put-together appearance, she proclaimed with great fondness that Boulderfrost had earned her right to the elders' den, where she could now serve her clan with her moons of wisdom.

Oatbright, a promising young cat, was selected--or, promising in her mind, blurred by growing grief, and wanting the ceremony over with. The gathering was a mix of congratulations and mild confusion, for many foresaw Suntuft as their new deputy, or Aspenmoss, one of Slatespots' kits. Oatbright himself seemed uncertain and uneasy, walking it off with tentative confidence.

But it would be okay, for Darkstar knew what she was doing, and she knew best for this clan, as StarClan had decreed for her.

Down, down did she crush her terrible feelings as she led DawnClan with confidence and pride, ignoring how her own joints began to stiffen with the changing of seasons and how much she struggled to get out of her moss nest. It was fine, for she had her clan to motivate her.

But time had other plans.

"Boulderfrost, she's..."

Brightstorm's voice, thick with emotion, felt like another surge of that raging river Darkstar was barely surviving. Behind the young she-cat, a pair of warriors carefully drug in the limp silhouette of Boulderfrost, who dangled easily from their grasp. Under the high midday sun, Boulderfrost's age seemed that much more obvious. Her pelt was thin, her body gaunt, her joints jutting out. No matter how much she rested, no matter how much fresh-kill was brought to her, like all other cats, Boulderfrost was not immortal.

Darkstar stood frozen to the spot, her paws rooted to the hard earth as Brightstorm sniffled, and the grieving wail of Suntuft splintered the peaceful day.

I'm their leader, Darkstar thought, frantic and insistent as she fixed her gaze on the ground, I must be strong, I always must be strong.

Aside from uttering quiet commands to arrange for a dawn burial and overnight vigil for Boulderfrost, she did not speak a single other word the rest of the day. She sat by Boulderfrost, thinking over and over of their journey to this land, of the happiness they shared, over the growth of these young cats they watched, and how at the cost of all of the time to earn these memories, she had lost her closest friend.

Yes, that was where it had begun. The denial she clung to like a StarClan-savior let her go. Like a scruffed kit dropped into that raging river she hated, she was helpless to the riptide tearing through her life. Soon, Burnetstripe would die to infection from kitting, and only Oatbright remained from the founding days, purposefully fixed in the position of deputy as the last remaining member of the old HillClan.

She withdrew into herself, and the bright, warm, and friendly Darkstar died with Boulderfrost that night, that vigil. The she-cat who arose in the morning was someone new, and the clan felt it.

"Darkstar--"

"Do it, or you'll be next," Darkstar hissed, pinning Softtail, panicked and wild-eyed, beneath her large paws. "Are you saying you agree with his blasphemy?!"

Oatbright swallowed, and the evening air was filled with the wailing screeches of the brawling cats. She could not tolerate the outspoken, indignant attitude of these warriors. First Softtail, trying to act as if he knew better, warning her off hunting in CopseClan territory when they were suffering from a great prey-drought in leaf-bare. Then Flickerjay, who worried over apprenticing kits at four moons rather than six, when obviously they needed the apprentices sooner than later.

Soon, the cats of DawnClan avoided speaking up around Darkstar. The last was Mottlefox, and while none spoke of it, fearing the wrath of their leader, his tragic death by a wolverine had felt entirely avoidable as he not been punished to flush it out of their territory alone.

Especially did the kits and grandkits of the founders suffer. Softtail, son of Burnetstripe, often was delegated the roughest of tasks, condemned to cleaning the dirtplace and checking fox dens for occupants. Mottlefox died for the sin of not only speaking out, but reminding Darkstar of her ancient grief with how similar in color he was to Dusktree.

Paws permanently stained red from the blood of her own clan, she knew it was her sacrifice, her burden. She had to do this for them, for they did not know better. This was her StarClan-given duty.

Roaming the forest they called home alone, Darkstar walked slow, claws flexing over the soft needle-bed. The earth was becoming moist and spongey, the fresh rain and gentle breeze signaling that leaf-bare was coming to a close, and new-leaf was on the horizon. Lifting her head and parting her mouth, she drew in the scents of the forest, and noted how she could no longer determine all of the smells as easily. They were dull, much like her fresh-kill, which now always tasted stale and bland.

Perhaps that was why she heard danger before she smelled it, whipping around with a fierce hiss and a raise of her hackles. The fox that had crept up on her snarled in turn, fierce and looking well-fed in spite of the cruel leaf-bare they had barely made it out of. Prowling towards her, the beast's muscles rippled smooth beneath its ginger pelt, and Darkstar shifted back, her spine arching.

She was too far from camp to run. Too far to call for help. And too slow with these age-worn joints to escape.

Catching her snarling reflection in the gleaming black eyes of her enemy, she suddenly froze. Behind the imposing figure of the fox, she saw movement. Gentle, like cotton on the green-leaf breeze, a pelt of sparkling stars appeared to her. One paw in front of the other, the fox did not sense what it was she looked on at in shock and amazement, and Darkstar's bristled pelt settled, and she straightened.

"Boulderfrost...?"

These moons of endless grief and strife, drowning under the weight of her duties, suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She felt light and young again as the she-cat smiled at her, warm and familiar.

Even in the face of death's glittering teeth, Darkstar could not bring herself to look away from her old friend. Her last memory of her had been on her death day, old and bedraggled. Here, with stars glittering like dewdrops in her fur, she was young again. She moved with grace, her paws nimble as she stepped around the fox, still unseeing of the StarClan cat, and walked to Darkstar.

"Hello, Darkstar," Boulderfrost meowed softly, her eyes full of warm kindness. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Tears pricked Darkstar's eyes, and she no longer heard the fox's growls.

"It has," she agreed, overwhelmed with emotion.

Boulderfrost stepped closer, and Darkstar could smell her sweet scent. She did not care as to why she was here, or what it meant. All that mattered was this terrible loneliness that was lifting from her heart, thinking of nothing but this moment.

"It's time," Boulderfrost said, and Darkstar no longer felt afraid. The fear of mortality, both her own and others, was gone. She had died twice already and lived with the trauma of it with some struggle, and yet, here and now, as she understood Boulderfrost's words, she didn't feel any of her old fear. She just felt... Tired.

"I understand now," Darkstar whispered, the tears falling from her eyes and wetting her fluffy cheeks, "The feeling when you decided to become an elder. I'm... I'm tired, Boulderfrost. I'm tired."

"I know," Boulderfrost said, and as the fox bunched up its muscles, tired of waiting for Darkstar to make the first move, she walked closer. Boulderfrost touched noses to Darkstar, and a true peace washed over her.

Darkstar caught only a glimpse of the fox's gleaming, saliva-wet maw as it lunged, shutting her eyes. For the first time in many moons, finally, the river slowed, and she was able to lift up her head, and take in a deep breath.

"It's time to rest, Darkstar."

With unseeing eyes, but keenly listening ears, Eagleburn betrayed no expression of whether or not he recognized his old friend's anxiety. While in other circumstances, the sturdy, broad-shouldered tom cat would have brought a sense of stability to Oatbright, here and now, he found no sense of comfort. Just a rising dread, like water filling his lungs.

"I know it's hard," Eagleburn tried again, gentler this time, "But you know the tradition. Darkstar is gone. You need to go to the Sky Splinter."

Oatbright's eyes shut tight.

Yes, this was true. In the growing blue-grey dusk, they had found her. Mangled and broken, the cruel fox that had stolen their leader from them hadn't even the grace to honor her life by taking her as a meal. But, while none would speak it, it seemed an unfortunate and fitting end for a she-cat who had brought such senseless violence to her clan in her final moons.

An old scar on his cheek ached, long since healed, but the trauma from it still haunting him. ... Would he become like that? Like her? Driven mad by slow-creeping grief until he hadn't realized his heart had frozen to his clanmates, making them enemies?

"Oatbright."

Eagleburn pushed his nose against Oatbright's shoulder, stirring him from his increasingly panicked thoughts.

"I-I'm sorry." Within the entry hollow, guarded by thick brambles and rugged, curved vines, he could hear the increasingly worried mews of the clan cats within. They knew the tradition: their new leader needed to achieve StarClan's blessing as soon as possible. They would be in disarray until then without the guiding paw of such a critical cat.

"... Okay." Breathing in a long, steadying breath, it did little to ease Oatbright's nerves, but it was good to pretend he had found his composure in front of Eagleburn. "I'm... I'm ready."

Watching Eagleburn's scarred face, waiting for a sign of doubt to flash through cloudy, blind eyes, no such signal came as the black tom bowed his head in acknowledgement, and led the way. On trembling paws, after a beat of hesitation, Oatbright followed, deliberately measuring every step to not give off the aura of a frightened, nervous kit.

The gathered cats turned to them, and he felt their eyes piercing his pelt like thorns. Suntuft and Brightstorm huddled together, and he felt a pitying stab of pain in his heart. The sisters were pillars of their clan and being closed to both the leader and the former deputy, who had also been their mother, he imagined this was hitting them the hardest. Darkstar left no kits, and those two cats were likely the closest thing she had to kin.

"DawnClan, gather below the branches of the Great Oak!"

Summoning strength to his yowl, Oatbright bounded forth. It felt wrong to claim Darkstar's spot as he dug his claws into the well-marked bark of the oak tree she had proclaimed their gathering point. Foggily, he could remember as a tiny kit watching in wonder as she rose into its branches, her sandy fur illuminated to a golden shine by the sun at her back.

Now, under a rising moon, Oatbright stood in her place, tail flagged high, and chest puffed out. Even if he felt not a drop of courage in his blood, he had to fake it. Surely, he thought to himself as he looked down upon his clan, Darkstar... She chose me for a reason. She saw something in me.

Eagleburn settled among the cats who slowly gathered. Even kits tumbled out of the nursery after their queen mothers, for this was a ritual all of DawnClan was to acknowledge, for it impacted them all.

Oatbright took another calming breath.

"As you all know, Darkstar has lost her final life," he meowed, and a ripple of sorrow pushed like a dark tide through the crowd. He did not acknowledge it, needing to maintain the little strength he had. "It is with great heartbreak that I announce this under StarClan's watch. Darkstar had brought us here to this new home, and never will her sacrifice, along with that of the other cats who came here, be forgotten."

Suntuft and Brightstorm shared a look, which Oatbright recognized. Boulderfrost, their mother, had been by Darkstar's side the whole time of their journey as DawnClan's deputy. Her passing had signaled the beginning of the end of an era:

The loss of those who still remembered HillClan.

Oatbright shivered, chilled in his dawning realization that he was all that was left. He had been nothing more than a scrap of fur, a kit barely able to find his own paws. How could he carry on these memories when he himself could not remember them all?

"I will go to the Sky Splinter tonight to gain my nine lives," he continued, paws prickling as he thought of the impending journey, "Bismuthfang, Sapbeak, and Beaverpelt."

The mentioned cats straightened up in their spots, looking to their to-be crowned leader with expectant eyes.

"You will accompany me and stand watch as I share tongues with StarClan tonight."

Pausing, Oatbright felt the waiting eyes of his clan all the keener upon his pelt. All the more distinctly did he feel the pressure of what Darkstar's death meant, and what she had done to him by appointing him as her deputy.

"... Eagleburn."

The blind tom lifted his head to acknowledge his leader, unseeing eyes fixed upon the point of his voice.

"Under the gaze of StarClan and Darkstar, you will be DawnClan's new deputy."

A new wave of voices coursed through the camp, but it was not of grief. Eagleburn was a revered and praised warrior. Even after losing his sight to a wayward hare, he had shown himself capable and strong, no different from a seeing warrior. Not only was he Oatbright's closest compatriot, but he was esteemed among their peers. He had been scarred by a snake and survived its poison after defending kits from its attack. He was the son of Slatespots and adoptive son of Creekberry, other pillars of their clan.

While he chose Eagleburn for wholly selfish reasons, Oatbright knew it would be easily masked as simply the wisest choice given Eagleburn's golden reputation and wisdom as a warrior.

Soft mews of congratulations pierced the heavy aura of grief and mixed feelings of the camp, as Oatbright was sure many of the cats felt similarly. Darkstar was beloved, but she was not the same cat as she had once been in her dying days. Her growing madness impacted them all, and while they would grieve her, they would also look to the future.

"I know that Darkstar will approve, as will StarClan," Oatbright said, reciting from memory what he recalled from his own deputy announcement, "You have served this clan already for countless moons, and now more than ever is your wisdom and courage needed."

Eagleburn, expression unreadable, paused, and then bowed his head in acceptance. It seemed he had known this was coming, and Oatbright felt a mild tug of guilt twist at his belly for not consulting his friend first on if he wanted this great responsibility on his shoulders. But... He could not do this without him. He needed him.

"Please see to the protection of the camp and myself and my patrol are out," Oatbright requested, and once Eagleburn nodded, Oatbright gave a flick of his tail-tip, signaling the gathering's end.

Help me, StarClan, Oatbright thought to the stars as he slowly eased his way down from the Great Oak to meet the warriors he summoned.