Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Moon Zero, Newleaf, Year One

If Ashenspider didn’t already have many moons of experience of trusting Brindlepelt, he would’ve felt insane as he stuck his nose into the dark. It was more than a little bewildering to be searching for something in such a complete darkness as to completely obscure it, but the medicine cat had never led him astray in the past. Besides, it was rare to see Brindlepelt so excited; she’d practically tackled him as soon as he got back from his patrol, dragging him towards her new den while babbling incoherently about “a sign from StarClan.” He couldn’t claim to understand, but he knew better than to doubt her when it came to matters of the spiritual.

“Am I close?” he finally asked, after his prodding and pawing at the darkness turned up nothing. If it were any other cat, he might’ve declared this so-called tunnel a delusion and went on with his day; but again, Brindlepelt was a unique case. “I can’t feel anything…”

“Yes! You’re very close.” Her pale yellow eyes shone with an almost uncharacteristic fervor as she slid beside the warrior, nudging him in the right direction. “Here, a little more to the right. Crouch down a bit. You’re almost there.”

Following her instructions, Ashenspider couldn’t help but be surprised when suddenly, there was no more rock beneath his nose, and he found himself breathing in the stale and suffocating air of a tight crawl space. He couldn’t help but cough a bit as he drew back, pawing at his nose with displeasure.

“Okay, I found it,” he sputtered out, trying to cleanse his lungs of the awful air he’d just inhaled. “What’s so special about this tunnel? What does it have to do with StarClan?”

Brindlepelt didn’t seem to pay any mind to his reaction, her shining gaze instead focused on the darkness where he now knew the tunnel entrance lay. It was completely out of character for her; or, maybe, given her almost fanatic dedication to their ancestors, this was just her true self. It was a slightly amusing thought, Ashenspider had to admit; the idea of cool, calm, responsible Brindlepelt secretly being as excitable as a newly made apprentice? He had to bite his tongue to keep a few meows of laughter from spilling out.

“Rosecliff guided me here,” she finally answered. This snapped Ashenspider to attention, leaning forward to focus on her words as his eyes furrowed a bit. The cat she had named had been long dead before he had even been born, but everyone knew his name regardless. Many of the cats of StarClan were prone to fade away to the claws of time, but Rosecliff seemed to be an exception. No matter how much time passed, every medicine cat and leader had reported seeing him at least once without fail; he’d become known as the ‘StarClan guide’ for his invaluable wisdom and eternal service. He’d never rejected the title either, or so the stories said, only purring and laughing when it would be brought up to him by the living.

“Rosecliff?” Ashenspider echoed her words, and it was impossible to conceal how she’d piqued his curiosity. “Do you know why?”

“Of course.” Brindlepelt breathed a reverent sigh, before finally looking back at him. Though her face was mostly shrouded in shadow, enough of the crystal light from outside the den still shone inside to reveal that she was smiling. “I could tell you, but… it’d be much easier to show you. You need to go there, anyway.”

“Go there? Go where?” His question fell on deaf ears, the medicine cat already beginning to squeeze into the tight tunnel. Ashenspider couldn’t say he was exactly fond of the idea of immersing himself in all that stale air, but his trust in the golden she-cat was much stronger than his apprehension, so he ultimately found himself pressed flat to the ground to crawl after her.

The experience of actually being in the tunnel was not much better than his first impression. In fact, it was probably worse; there wasn’t even enough air for Ashenspider to cough, and the rough floor cut into his paws. It was a horridly claustrophobic experience all around, and the final dirt clump on the grave was how Brindlepelt’s tail kept twitching against his nose. StarClan, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hold in his sneeze. This had better be worth it.

Ashenspider was so relieved when they emerged out the other side of the tunnel that he didn’t even register his surroundings at first, instead focusing on inhaling lungfuls of clean air. It wasn’t until after he’d finally collected himself that he took stock of what was around him, only for the air to be knocked from his lungs all over again.

It was a simple, serene cave, not unlike their camp, albeit on a smaller scale. It even came with its own crystal, illuminating them in its soft blue glow. It was far rounder in shape, and its facets were oddly smooth compared to its rougher kin outside this little enclave, but such things didn’t even occur to the transfixed Ashenspider.

A single thought flooded his mind: it was beautiful. “This is…?”

Brindlepelt grinned at his clear awe. It was an expression he still wasn’t used to seeing on the medicine cat, and he might’ve been unsettled if he weren’t so distracted. “I call it the Mooncrystal,” she replied, brushing past him to bask in the crystal’s glow. Her tail curled around her paws as she took a seat, gazing up at the luminescent stone. “Our new place of communion with StarClan.”

“Our new place of communion with StarClan?” The news snapped Ashenspider out of his reverie as he studied the so-called Mooncrystal with new insight. Sure enough, now that he knew to look for it – or, well, sense for it – even he could feel the mystical power of their ancestors permeating the cave and its centerpiece. “That’s great news. But… why would you bring a simple warrior here?”

“A simple warrior?” Brindlepelt repeated his question back to him, then chuckled. She raised a paw to the Mooncrystal, as if caressing something he couldn’t see. “Ashenspider, tell me something. Look around us. Aside from us, do you see any other living creatures?”

Bewildered, the warrior followed her instructions anyway. It became quickly apparent that they were completely alone here; not even a single insect crawled along the cave’s walls. “No.”

“Right. Not even a single bug. I’m thinking that the power of StarClan chases them away. But…” She finally lowered her paw to look back at him, a smile on her face. “When I was in here earlier, I saw a spider crawling over the surface of the Mooncrystal. That’s no coincidence; it’s a sign from StarClan.”

Ashenspider couldn’t claim to be experienced in interpreting such things, so he chose to believe her claim. He was a warrior, after all, not a medicine cat. He couldn’t tell oak from elder leaves if his life depended on it, and that was only one of the many ways he was unsuited to her job. “Do you know what it means?”

“Yes. This one was pretty easy to interpret, as far as signs from StarClan go…” Brindlepelt allowed herself a moment of soft laughter, before looking back at the Mooncrystal thoughtfully. “In fact, it feels a little obvious. Maybe that’s just to us medicine cats, though. Anyway, the meaning of the sign… It’s that you’re meant to be the new leader of MountainClan.”

“What?!” Whatever Ashenspider had been expecting her to say, nothing could have prepared him for that. The shock caused him to fluff up his fur on instinct, tail standing bolt upright. “Me?! Brindlepelt, you have to be mistaken. There’s no way I can–!”

A paw against his mouth silenced him. There was an intense look in the medicine cat’s pale yellow eyes that he had seldom seen before, and it was enough to steal any protests straight off his tongue.

“Ashenspider, listen to me,” Brindlepelt said quietly, her voice deadly serious. The world seemed to hold its breath, and the roar of Ashenspider’s heartbeat in his ears seemed to be louder than a thunderstorm all of a sudden. “I know I’m not mistaken. There’s nothing else it could mean. Besides, if left to us to decide, could you imagine the fuss Shinenettle and Roarspeck would kick up? It’s for the best that StarClan’s taken it out of our paws.” She paused for a moment, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Then, she continued. “...I believe in you, Ashenspider. StarClan has chosen this destiny for you, and I think they made the right choice. MountainClan will need a leader, and it should be you. So… please. Trust me.”

The sincerity of her words struck Ashenspider dumb for several long seconds. When he finally managed to speak again, he gave a slow, hesitant nod. “Okay. I’ll do it. So… What should I do?”

“It’s simple.” Brindlepelt’s attention returned to the glowing stone, humming thoughtfully. “All you need to do is press your nose to the Mooncrystal. StarClan will take care of the rest.”

StarClan will take care of the rest. These words caused some unknown feeling to tingle in Ashenspider’s paws. Apprehension, perhaps, or worry that their ancestors had made a mistake. Still, he reminded himself: he was no medicine cat. If Brindlepelt said that StarClan had chosen him to become leader, surely it was so. He was in no position to doubt her words.

Taking a deep breath, the young warrior banished all thoughts of doubt from his mind. Slow steps carried his paws closer to the enthralling glow of the Mooncrystal until finally, finally he leaned forwards to touch his nose to the mystical relic.

Pain. The sensation surged through Ashenspider’s body like a dog’s claws tearing him apart. He collapsed to the floor as his body stiffened; he wanted to scream, but his jaw had locked up tight. He couldn’t move; every nerve in his body seemed to have betrayed him. Panic and fear swam to the surface of the tumultuous abyss of his mind, thoughts flashing through his head like lightning strikes: had Brindlepelt been wrong? Was he not the StarClan-destined leader after all? Surely this was a punishment from their ancestors for touching somehow he should not have. Oh, stars, he was going to die, wasn’t he? He was going to die, and he would be barred from the mountains of StarClan forever, banished instead to the Dark Forest spoken of in kits’ tales to scare them out of misbehaving–

Ashenspider’s head thudded down as his heavy eyes slipped shut, the tide of anxiety drowned out by a crushing feeling of nothing.

It was impossible to know when he regained his senses. At first, all Ashenspider could register was the blissful absence of the all-encompassing agony that had seared his senses. A soft groan passed his lips as he lifted his weary head from his paws, slowly opening his eyes to take in his surroundings.

A plateau surrounded by a number of cave entrances, high up in the mountains, dappled in warm sunlight. The place was intimately familiar to him, having lived most of his life there; MountainClan’s old camp. But, no. Though it was an almost perfect recreation of the place from his memories, the slowly shifting stars that pockmarked the cliffs proved that it was only a mimicry. Then, this has to be…

“I’m in StarClan,” Ashenspider realized, wobbling to his feet. He tried to call the feelings that should have been there to the surface; despair, rage, anxiety. Instead, he only felt numb. “Then… I died after all?”

“That’s right.” A warm voice caused the young warrior to turn around quickly. A thick-furred she-cat with a speckled flaxen pelt and sparkling silver eyes was padding out of one of the dens. Stars swirled through her fur, just like the environment. “When you touched the Mooncrystal, your old life was taken away from you.”

“But… why? Was I really not destined to be the new leader after all? Is this a punishment?” Ashenspider couldn’t help the note of despair that finally rose to his voice. As he waited for her answer, however, he couldn’t help but realize… didn’t he know her? “W-Wait. Warmbracken? Why are you in StarClan?”

To his surprise, “Warmbracken” let out a mrrow of laughter, shaking her head at him fondly. “Close, dear, but not quite. Warmbracken would be my darling daughter.”

Understanding crashed over Ashenspider in an instant. This was not his dear Clanmate but her mother; the two had always been near-identical in both looks and personality. The fruit never fell far from the tree, as the saying went. “Hopemallow?” As the queen dipped her head in confirmation, he felt some of his anxiety abate; far from all of it, however. “I… I still don’t understand. My old life was taken away from me? How? Why?”

“Relax, dear.” Hopemallow gently placed a paw on top of his head, still chuckling quietly to herself. Ashenspider found that warmth radiated from the point of contact, chasing away his remaining worries. “Your time has not yet come; your stay in StarClan is only a very temporary one. We took away your old life only so that we might give you your new ones.”

“My new… lives?” Ashenspider’s eyes widened. Even though Brindlepelt had told him of his destiny to become MountainClan’s new leader, it was only when Hopemallow spoke those words that it seemed to fully settle. “Then… Brindlepelt was right?”

“As she often is,” Hopemallow confirmed. She removed her paw from his head, only to step closer and press her nose to his fur. Tingling warmth flooded his body at the contact, and Ashenspider felt himself begin to purr, unable to help himself. “In fact, I have the honor to give you your first life; one of compassion. Use it to make sure that despair never finds a home in the hearts of your Clan.”

“Looks like that life felt good to receive!” A wry remark rang out into the clearing as Hopemallow stepped back. Looking around, Ashenspider spotted several more starry cats emerging from the caves, their gazes full of mingled curiosity, pride and love. Among the crowd, he saw several familiar faces, but there were several he did not know too.

The speaker was one of the unfamiliar ones. An orange-and-white tom held his head high as he strutted forward, dark copper eyes gleaming. “I’d brace yourself, if I were you. Receiving a life isn’t such pleasant business normally, and you have eight more to go.”

Ashenspider swallowed at the unknown warrior’s words, feeling his earlier nerves quickly resurface. Still, in the name of propriety and politeness, he sat up straight, curling his tail around his paws as he addressed the StarClan cat. “Sorry, have we met…?”

“Nope, but there was no way I was going to miss out on the chance to give a life to the leader of a new era. Call me Flipsoar.” The tom then approached, a sly smirk on his lips. As promised, when he touched his nose to the burgeoning leader’s head, there was none of the warmth Hopemallow’s life had given him; instead, it felt like a shock had ran through his body, locking his limbs in place as he grappled with the pain. It was enough to make him grit his teeth, but compared to the agony that had been involved in actually dying, it was bearable enough. “I give to you a life of acceptance. Use it to make sure that your Clan grows strong once more, and never turn away those less fortunate.”

Flipsoar had scarcely stepped back into the crowd when a tiny little figure stumbled forward, almost tripping over their own paws as they squealed. “It’s my turn now, right?! I get to give him a life?!”

Glancing down, Ashenspider felt his heart swell to three times its normal size and then explode from the adorable sight. A young tabby kitten, maybe four moons of age, was stumbling towards him, blue eyes alight with ecstasy. The little one seemed to be so excited that he was shaking with it. How cute!

Hopemallow regarded the kit with amusement, leaning down to gently help him to Ashenspider’s side. “Yes, Hillkit, it’s your turn. You get to give him a life, just as promised. Make sure it’s a good one, yes?”

“Yes, I promise!” Hillkit’s purrs reverberated in his chest, so incredibly loud for such a tiny creature. “I’ll give him the best life ever!” Without further ceremony, the kit carefully stood up on his hind legs, but even then, his little paws could only reach Ashenspider’s chin. Smiling fondly, the warrior crouched down so the young cat could at least touch his nose. “I’m Hillkit, like Mama said, and I give you a life for… um… Puddlefeather, what was that thing you were teaching me about the other day?”

“Perspective.” An amused meow in a familiar voice came from the crowd of onlookers, but Ashenspider didn’t dare tear his gaze away from Hillkit. “The ability to see something from multiple angles.”

“Right! I give you a life for perspective!” Somehow, despite coming from a little kit, the energy that suddenly surged through Ashenspider’s body almost knocked him to the floor. He stumbled slightly, but just barely managed to catch his footing. “Use it to, um… see every angle of a situation!”

It wasn’t anywhere near as eloquent as the previous two lives, but Hillkit was trying their best. That almost meant more to the young warrior than the life itself, and he dared to break the silence he’d maintained up until now throughout the ceremony to express his gratitude. “Thank you, Hillkit,” he whispered. “I promise I’ll use your life well.”

Hillkit’s eyes went wide, before shining with pride. “I know you will! You’ll be a great leader!” At that moment, one of the warriors called out to the kit, and he giggled. “Oops. I gotta go back and let them give you your next life! But I’ll be watching you!”

Hillkit scrambled back into the crowd. A light gray tom with darker spots took his place, an amused look twinkling in dark blue eyes as he approached. “You seem well, Ashenpaw, and look at how big you’ve grown,” he teased. “Surely they’ll be giving you your warrior name soon?”

Ashenspider ducked his head, licking his chest in embarrassment. “Puddlefeather!” he complained, feeling like a kit all over again. Brindlepelt’s mentor had been one of MountainClan’s most respected medicine cats, wise, skilled and devoted to his job, but he had always been an unbearable tease, right until the day greencough had claimed his life. “I’m not an apprentice anymore, you know that!”

Puddlefeather laughed shortly, before nudging the warrior’s head back up to look him in the eyes. “Right you are, Ashenspider, right you are… I won’t play around anymore, then. Are you ready?” Upon receiving a nod of confirmation, the elderly medicine cat leaned forward to touch his nose to the new leader’s forehead. Ashenspider was expecting pain, but instead, he was greeted by warmth, not unlike the life Hopemallow gave to him. “I give to you a life for sympathy. Use it to ensure you understand the hardships your fellow cats must endure before you make a decision.”

As Puddlefeather slipped back into the crowd, Ashenspider could have sworn he heard someone muttering that compassion and sympathy were almost the same thing, but he was hardly complaining. Even if he wanted to, he didn’t have time. A silvery she-cat trotted daintily towards him, tail held high; with how she was smaller than most of the assembled cats, but certainly bigger than a kitten, he was willing to guess that she was one of MountainClan’s fallen apprentices.

“Hello, Ashenspider. It’s a pleasure to meet you; my name is Juncopaw,” the she-cat introduced herself, confirming his suspicions. She didn’t waste anymore time on formalities, reaching up to touch her nose to Ashenspider’s. This life felt similarly to Flipsoar’s, though it seemed a bit more restrained by comparison. “I give you a life for honesty. Use it to resist the temptation to lie.” She took a step back and regarded him for a moment, her blue eyes shimmering with some indescribable emotion. “I wish you all the best in the future, Ashenspider.”

Juncopaw slipped gracefully back into the assembled crowd, and a familiar ginger tabby tom took her place. “Didn’t expect to meet you again under these circumstances, Ashenspider,” Thorncrawl wheezed, carefully avoiding putting pressure on his bad leg. The elder hadn’t ever given up his spirit in life, and it seemed as though this trait persisted in death. “Well, no time like the present. Let’s get on with it, ey?”

Ashenspider couldn’t help but smile, moving closer to help the respected elder reach him more easily. “Let’s. What do you have for me, Thorncrawl?”

“A life for humility!” As Thorncrawl touched his nose to Ashenspider’s head, a jolt ran down the younger cat’s spine. He hissed in displeasure, muscles tensing; was this what it was like to be struck by lighting? “Ehh, sorry about that, but Flipsoar did warn ya, didn’t he? Now, where was I… oh, yeah. Use this life to know when you’re wrong and own up to it! You young’ins were never good at that.” He lightly cuffed Ashenspider around the ear to accentuate the point. The young warrior shrunk back slightly, but in reality, he was trying not to laugh.

“Alright, that’s enough, Thorncrawl. He gets the point.” The single most beautiful voice rang out from the crowd, causing Ashenspider to freeze up on the spot. A dark brown tabby she-cat emerged from the crowd, smiling as she helped the elder take his place against the assembly once more; when she turned back to the warrior of the hour, her striking green eyes seemed to glow with warmth.

“Zinnialeap, I…” Ashenspider swallowed thickly, feeling the words catch in his throat. What was he supposed to say when presented with his first ever love? She’d been taken away by Twolegs one day on a hunting patrol, and he’d never seen her again. Now here she was, in StarClan. He’d always held out hope that she might still be out there, but now that dream was being dashed, sending his heart plummeting.

“Shhhh.” A paw against his mouth silenced anything he might’ve found to say. “It wasn’t your fault, Ashenspider. And even if it were, I’d forgive you.”

“Zinnialeap…”

“No, none of that. Not here, and not now… The day will come where we can talk about everything. I promise.” Reassuringly, she dragged her tongue over his ear, purring softly.

Ashenspider closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart still wouldn’t settle and grief that he thought long buried still churned his gut, but her voice was impossible not to listen to. “Okay.”

Zinnialeap gave him a fond smile, then leaned forward to gently touch her nose to his forehead. The touch reminded him so much of a lover that he nearly whimpered, even more so when he found that this life resembled the ones given by Hopemallow and Puddlefeather. That, however, had been a motherly and mentorly sort of warmth and safety respectively; this life felt like love, threatening to drown him but in a way he wouldn’t even try to resurface from. It felt like coming home. “I give you a life for friendship, Ashenspider. Use it to get along with cats from all walks of life, and of all temperaments and personalities.”

When Zinnialeap separated from him to rejoin the crowd, he nearly cried out for her to stay. Only the faint recollection that they were in the middle of a ceremony stilled his tongue; well, that and the fact that every muscle in his body seemed completely unwilling to comply with him right now. He barely even noticed the next cat until they stood in front of him: a cream tom with mischievous pale yellow eyes. Ashenspider didn’t recognize him, but the overwhelming odor of catmint and other herbs gave away that he was probably a medicine cat of moons past.

“Hey, I’m Boughnoise!” he introduced himself, grinning wildly. “I was an old medicine cat of MountainClan many seasons ago, and I– Ah, forget it. You’re not here for that, you just want the life, right? Well, here!” The pain that ran through Ashenspider’s body had grown familiar to him by now, but it did at least serve to stir him from the stupor Zinnialeap’s appearance had cast upon him. “There! A life for patience. Use it to avoid snapping at naughty kits, overeager apprentices, mouse-brained warriors, complaining elders, and whatever else. Trust me, you’ll need it.” The informality of the medicine cat was quite unlike anything else Ashenspider had experienced up until now, and he found he could only sit there, dazed as Boughnoise gave him a wink. “Good job making it this far, by the way! One more life to go. Good luck; you’ll need it.”

Boughnoise scampered back into the crowd, from which arose a few stray murmurs of disapproval at the medicine cat’s conduct. They were quickly silenced, however, when the assembled cats parted to let the final life-giver through; even Ashenspider sat up straighter at the sight, gasping.

Duckstar, the late leader of MountainClan and most of the most celebrated warriors ever to live, strode towards him. A fierce conviction bordering on fury blazed in his blue eyes, but Ashenspider couldn’t think of anything he might’ve done to upset the older cat. Still, desperate to make up for any possible wrongdoing, he ducked low in front of the former leader, reverent and respectful.

Duckstar was silent for several long, uncomfortable moments. “Ashenspider,” he finally spoke, the name like a rumble of thunder on his tongue, sending a shiver down its owner’s spine. “Rise. It is time for you to receive your ninth and final life.”

Trying not to collapse on his shaking paws, Ashenspider followed instructions, swallowing. He felt like he should say something under the other’s scrutiny, but his tongue felt limp and useless in his mouth. All he could do was wait for Duckstar to speak again. Even the star-swirled cliffs and ethereal wind around them seemed to hold their breath in anticipation.

“Once you receive this life, you will be the new leader of our Clan,” Duckstar finally continued, and Ashenspider had to stifle a sigh of relief. “Your era of leadership is a special one, comparable only to when ancient Mountainstar first brought the Clan into being. You will be tested, facing countless hardships as you struggle to keep the Clan from dying out. Are you prepared to take on this burden of responsibility?”

Every fiber of Ashenspider’s body screamed out for him to say no. But if not him, then who else? As Brindlepelt had pointed out earlier, if the decision of leadership was left in the paws of the living, he could foresee days and days of bickering they could likely spell their demise. Shinenettle and Roarspeck would never settle unless they were named as the new leader, and he wasn’t quite sure either of them were fit for the position. Well, he felt similarly about himself, but both Brindlepelt and StarClan seemed to disagree, and he’d received eight lives already anyway, hadn’t he?

He took a deep breath to center himself, then nodded. “I am, Duckstar.”

Duckstar studied him with a critical gaze, before finally giving an approving nod. “Very good. Then…” He leaned forward to touch his nose to Ashenspider’s head, as most of the other cats had done before him, and the warrior had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. This pain was comparable to the agony of death; if he had even a single scrap of coherency, he might have wondered if it was because of the potency of a life given by a leader.

When Ashenspider came back to his senses, he found himself collapsed on the floor, Duckstar leaning over him. Embarrassed, he quickly scrambled back to a sitting position, but the old leader didn’t seem surprised; even anything, he seemed impressed. Still, Duckstar didn’t comment as he resumed speaking. “This final life is one of knowing when to fight, and when to choose peace. Use it to avoid unnecessary bloodshed and loss of life, but also to defend your Clan with all your might when the time calls for it.”

With all nine lives bestowed, Ashenspider could start to feel a strange new vigor and strength pulsing through his body. So this was what it felt like to be a leader; if every one of MountainClan’s past leaders had been gifted this sort of innate power, he finally understood how the storied Whisperstar could go from being meeker than a mouse to fiercer as a lion in the space of a single night. But… Something was missing, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he now be called…

Duckstar was speaking again. “I hail you by your new name, Ashenstar.” There it was. Just hearing himself be referred to as a ‘star sent thrilled shocks running down the new leader’s spine. “Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of ShimmerClan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the Warrior Code; live each life with pride and dignity.”

Wait… ShimmerClan? Abject confusion washed over the newly-named Ashenstar. Their Clan was called MountainClan. Why was Duckstar now saying he had guardianship of ShimmerClan?

He didn’t have the chance to ask as the StarClan cats began to yowl his new name, not unlike the way the living Clan cats would celebrate a new warrior. “W-Wait, I–” he managed to stutter out, before a sudden drowsiness suddenly overtook him. He tried his best to stay awake, but found he couldn’t resist, crashing to the floor of StarClan as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

…

Ashenstar stirred with a cough, blearily blinking open his eyes. It didn’t take long for the memories of his leadership ceremony to come rushing back, including the mystery of why Duckstar had hailed him as the leader of ShimmerClan, and not MountainClan.

He rose to his paws with a groan, which attracted the attention of the medicine cat resting nearby. “Ashenspider, you’re awake!” Brindlepelt exclaimed, rushing to his side. “Or… no, it’s Ashen star now, isn’t it?” A deep worry was clear in her eyes, revealing her concerns that the ceremony had gone wrong somehow.

“Right.” This one-word answer and a small nod was all Ashenstar could muster up, his head still slightly throbbing in the wake of his ordeal. While it was true his nine lives had given him new strength, he doubted it was enough for him to recover from that whole thing right away. Still, it seemed to be enough for the fretting medicine cat, who breathed a sigh of relief and let her shoulders drop.

“Good… that’s good.” She began to pace, a shadowy look falling over her expression; it seemed that even as Ashenstar was still reeling, Brindlepelt was already looking forward to the future. In another life, maybe she would have been the new leader of the Clan. She certainly seemed far more prepared for it. “We should get back to camp and introduce you as the new leader right away. Oh, and you’ll need to pick a new deputy before moonhigh. At least the pool of options is rather small, isn’t it? Hmm, you probably shouldn’t choose Shinenettle or Auburndawn, seeing as they’ve yet to finish mentoring their first apprentice, but any of the other three are eligible…” She stopped, finally seeming to notice that Ashenstar seemed lost in a daze. “Ashenstar, are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“Brindlepelt,” Ashenstar began, the words feeling heavy upon his tongue, “when he gave me guardianship over the Clan, Duckstar said something strange.”

“Something strange?” Brindlepelt echoed. The concern which had previously faded from her tone was back in force, instantly worried for the Clan. “Was it a warning? Or, stars forbid, a prophecy so soon?”

“No… No, it was nothing of the sort.” Ashenstar quickly shook his head, but he could see that this did nothing to assuage the medicine cat’s fears; if anything, it may have only heightened them. “He said… StarClan grants you the guardianship of ShimmerClan.”

“Of ShimmerClan?” Brindlepelt seemed just as taken aback by it as he was; nothing but confusion swirled behind her pale yellow eyes. “But our Clan is MountainClan.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” It felt like a mouse-brained response, but it was all Ashenstar could think of. Stars, he needed a nap. Brindlepelt was right about needing to select a new deputy before moonhigh, of course – he had no interest in breaking the Warrior Code when the Clan was already in such a tenuous state – but after that, he was going straight to sleep.

“Hmm…” Brindlepelt picked up her pacing once again, staring at the Mooncrystal as though it would give her the answers. This continued for a few minutes with the medicine cat mumbling incoherently to herself, before she stopped, shaking her head with a sigh. “Well, I don’t understand it at all, but one thing’s clear.”

“What’s that?” One thing being clear to Brindlepelt was one more thing than was clear to Ashenstar.

“If StarClan has decreed that we will be ShimmerClan from this point forth, we are in no position to argue,” she answered, before she frowned again, returning to her pacing. “However, I’m uncertain of how to reveal this to the rest of the Clan. No cat is supposed to know what transpired in your ceremony, except for you and I.”

“...Don’t worry about it, Brindlepelt,” Ashenstar sighed, dragging himself onto his paws. “I’ll figure out something to say, alright? You’ve done enough, and I think this sort of thing falls under my responsibilities anyway. Plus, you’re right; introducing me to the Clan and electing the new deputy before moonhigh should be our priorities.”

“...Right.” Brindlepelt didn’t seem fully convinced, but she let the matter drop. “I’ll leave it in your paws then. And Ashenstar?”

“Mm?”

“I have faith in you. Don’t forget that.” With those final words of encouragement, the medicine cat crouched down and disappeared into the dark tunnel leading back to the main camp. Ashenstar stared after her for several long seconds before sighing and moving to follow. He was not looking forward to this. Not at all.