spoilers for Denied Prophet if you haven't read up to chapter 26
When Featherpaw opens his eyes, all he sees is stars.
He gasps, scrambling to his paws in deep haste.
Surrounding him at all corners of space and time are glowing stars of Silverpelt.
Despite being suspended on no forms of solid ground, he seems to be held aloft in some sort of mild mist. It tickles at his toes and encourages him to twitch his whiskers. He cranes his head around in all directions, brilliant blue eyes scanning for any signs of life.
Or death.
"Well, well, well," croons a sneering, albeit familiar tone that Featherpaw really doesn't have the time to deal with at the moment. His suspicions are proved correct when a sturdy orange tabby she-cat saunters from the fog, a soft twinkle in her pelt and burning hostility in her amber eyes. "Look who happened to show up in my neck of the woods. It's the wonderful Failurepaw. Just my luck."
"Russetburr, you know me well enough to know I am not a failure," Featherpaw creases his muzzle into a frown, narrowing his blue eyes to meet the she-cat's amber.
"Ha!" the StarClan female laughs once, loud and obnoxious. "You are the best known failure of all! Shall we remind ourselves of all of your 'accomplishments'?" Arrogantly, she begins to pace around him, encircling the poor former apprentice like cornered prey. "First, when I told you Nutfur or Brownpelt needed to die to appease StarClan, you claimed you would succeed. Well? Neither of them are dead! You failed in your mission to guide one of them to death. Their destiny was not completed! Secondly, you, a medicine cat apprentice, turned their back on us. Us! StarClan! You gave up. That's failure! Thirdly. . ." she pauses after a long drawl, scrutinizing the black tom with a blossoming sneer. "Well, I mean, the third thing's kind of obvious. You failed at staying alive. You, the great Featherpaw, have died. For a fish-brained reason, might I add? You jumped in the way of bared teeth to save Nutfur."
"Nutfur is family," Featherpaw cuts in, fierce and protective of his mentor no doubt in shock after finding his apprentice dead on the sand.
"One of the cats whose destiny it was to die!" Russetburr continues, carrying on as if the recently deceased hadn't spoken. "You, Featherpaw, have failed. You failed at succeeding to live out destiny, you failed in your beliefs, and you failed at living. You. Are. A. Failure."
"I died so they could live!" Featherpaw snarls. "RiverClan will thrive. I sacrificed myself for the greater good. I am a noble warrior!"
"Noble." The miffed StarClan cat wrinkles her nose at the word, flicking her tongue at its foul taste. "Hardly noble is the cat spawned of tainted blood."
"What lies do you speak this time?" Featherpaw demands, taking a threatening step forward.
"I speak no lies!" Russetburr bellows, baring fangs in an unkind manner. "You and your littermates are born of shared blood between RiverClan and ThunderClan. You, Shybee, and Redbriar are half-Clan vermin!"
"I - what?" surprise catches the apprentice off guard and he stands there in a stupor, maw flapping like a beached fish.
"See? You have even failed at being a true RiverClan cat. Because your heritage is tainted. You were born a taint, you have died a taint. You were born a failure, you have died a failure."
"I'm. . . I'm half-Clan?" the apprentice mutters in shock.
"Exactly," Russetburr snorts haughtily, puffing up her chest. "And so, because of this - because of your failures - I deny you passage to StarClan."
Overcome with shock, Featherpaw's head rockets upward, eyes fearful as they lock with the former medicine cat's. Terror shines in his blue blue eyes as he ponders being denied from hunting the among the stars with his ancestors. There's an abrupt switch that flips inside his mind, allowing his face to contort into a deep frown. His eyes narrow like they had earlier. He growls lowly, "I'm half-Clan. So what? That never changed anything about me. I was always loyal to RiverClan. You deny me passage to StarClan. So what? When I turned my back on the stars, I chose my path. I chose to deny you. I wouldn't want to hunt with you in the stars even if you begged me to."
"Fine then!" a furious Russetburr bristles. "As opposed to living out in StarClan, I banish you to The Void!" She shoves her face forward until the two are staring darkly into each other's eyes, bubbling tension flaring between them.
"I don't need you to banish me, toadbreath, I'll go there myself!"
"Now, now, you two, StarClan is a place of peace and prosperity. There is no need for violence and crude language."
Snapping their gazes away from one another, both felines lock their sights upon the newcomer who spoke with a casual, yet wise tinted tone. The cat padding leisurely up to them is one of fair mass, his mostly brown pelt dotted with the glow of stars. The marking that set him apart from the rest is the throat of white that stripes down to his underbelly.
Featherpaw almost doesn't recognize him due to the lack of gray fur around the tom's muzzle. The cat before him is not the aging, raspy elder little Featherkit used to know.
"Icethroat," he breathes in awe.
He recalls the old cat dying in his sleep - peaceful, but heartbreaking to Thornswipe who was left alone in the elder's den since.
"Indeed," the deceased meows pleasantly amused. "I would like to say it's nice to see you, Featherpaw, but you were taken from life too soon. I would have preferred to see you not until you reached the elder's den. You would have lived a full life."
"But I saved my family!" Featherpaw insists, stamping a foot.
"Nutfur was not your blood-kin," Icethroat says simply, infuriating the young 'paw even more.
"No he wasn't, but it doesn't matter! I cared about him and he cared about me! Family doesn't end in blood, Icethroat. It's their actions that matter."
Icethroat stares blankly at the recently deceased apprentice. His face blossoms into a small grin. "Well, I think that clears up any doubts."
"Huh?"
"Your morals are of good intention, Featherpaw. You are deserving of a place in the stars. Russetburr, half-blood or not, a cat of noble intentions and good morals are traits of StarClan cats. Featherpaw has a place among us." Icethroat swivels his gaze to the russet she-cat currently bristling with distaste.
"But he doesn't even want to be one of us!" the former medicine cat growls. "He turned our backs on us and if he doesn't want to be here, I'm not stopping him."
Featherpaw nods, less agitated than before. His expression bears doubt but he still insists that, "Russetburr is correct. I don't want a place here."
"Very well then," Icethroat shrugs, "but may I say something?"
Featherpaw nods again, slow and slightly downcast.
"Nutfur and Brownpelt - your family. No one lives forever, Featherpaw. They will die soon. Don't you want to be there for them? Don't you want to be the one to collect their frightened spirits and guide them to the stars where they belong?"
Realization dawns upon the young cat and feels his eyes start to water at the thought of abandoning his newfound family. How would the brothers feel if they discovered that Featherpaw had up and left them?
Featherpaw jerks his head up, eyes wide and glassy. He nods tearfully, "Yes, yes, I do."
Anything to see his family again.
"Then feel free to follow."
Icethroat turns around, slowly padding up a small incline in the mist.
Featherpaw trails after the RiverClan ancestor, prancing ahead into the field of glimmering dots.
When he stares out at the open with wide eyes, all he sees are stars.
My cinnamon roll deserved some closure. I did feel bad for killing him off, but his death has a purpose.
Also my wonderful babu Icethroat returns. He literally had one cameo in Denied Prophet as a memory of Featherpaw's but he died before the actual story takes place so in this he gets a chance to shine :3
- Snarky