A/N: so okay this is a piece that received well on Warriors Amino. "And she breathes in frost and ash." is the sequel. This in particular was a prompt.
((Original note on Amino: A/N: Yes, I have indeed always had Spottedpath's warrior ceremony planned this way, alongside her friends.
All characters are mine (Brackenheart was made up last minute as a tribute to Brackenfur - there was always planned to be a deputy before Spottedpath.)
Yes Fufflestar died there.))
Now the only problem with amino is YOU CAN ONLY BOLD OR ITALICIZE FULL SENTENCES. So that part will be creepily done here.
The characters and Clans here belong to me. Warriors concept belongs to Erin Hunter.
Last Breath Of Winter
"Just stay." She breathed, breath dispersing in white vapors. Old eyes, soft, gentle, yellow eyes old as the mountain and sky, unblinking as she stared at him.
"Please," she said, voice barely a whisper. "One more moon, at the least. Just that long, to tie up loose ends; before we go towards different paths. Then you'll be free to choose. One moon. Just, one more moon - before I die. Starclan is calling me."
He sighed. "Do you think - do you think you'll last that long?" His voice was shaky with emotion.
She lifted her head; purred. "My body may be weakening, but you know I have spirit like liquid fire."
He have a rasping laugh. "Ah, I miss your old accent." His laugh then drifted melancholy, until it became a sigh. "And I am going to miss you, old friend."
She weakly swatted at him. "What, Best friend of old? You fear my death more than me?"
His gaze sharpened, and he stood, fur ruffling up (almost looking like how her whitish pelt was naturally so.) "You're on your last life; I've seen you die what feels like a thousand times - of course I'm scared to see it permanent!"
She scoffed at him. "You always were a worry wart." Then a pause. "Is that why you want to retire? Do you fear losing so many lives?"
He sat down, pelt smoothing. "No," he stated, staring at the ground. Then he looked up to her with great glistening, green eyes. "I fear that I will never be as great a leader as you - that I cannot lead like you do."
'That I'll be able to lead, without you,' he thought.
Her voice grew a little stronger, more a low voice than faded whisper, "Listen here, you. You will lead as you shall lead - NOT like me. You are not my shadow, my echo; you are my best friend and most trusted cat. You shall be a great leader, and shall choose another great leader after. We are our own legacy, not trying to fill those of other cats'. Do you understand me?" Her yellow eyes blazed.
He dipped his great, striped head. "Of course."
"Good. Now let's talk about naming ceremonies."
-/ One Moon Later/-
He watched as she clambered up onto the Stump, scrambling with her hind paws, and going nowhere. He made forward as though to help when his apprentice (a full-grown she-cat now, he reflected) and a few others, one from each clan, helped her to push the ruffled white rump up onto the ancient tree-base, her tail dangling limply.
She couldn't even sit up properly, he realized with a pang. She looked pitiful, with eyes glazed like a misted moon, and her pelt hanging sorrowfully from her frame. She lifted her head, gazed out and down.
"I have an announcement to make, before we all start. Then my deputy shall take over."
Everyone's gaze sharpened, ears pricked. Meaningless chatter died down as this cat, this fading, wretched, image of a cat, spoke in a voice like a knell of thunder, and her eyes seemed to glow with all nine lives of a leader.
"I have lead my clan long," she began. "In my time, I think I have been a good leader." Caterwauls from her clan, and a few shouts from cats of others interrupted suddenly, but shut up when he jumped forward, roaring, "Let her finish! Shut your muzzles!"
Her eyes sought him out, and her muzzle curled into a wry smile. She then continued, "But in all my time, I have never done anything as noteworthy as this. If, the other three leaders will permit me, I would like to name three new warriors."
The other three leaders exchanged looks, and one of them, a very young tom, looked to her and said. "Of course. Go for it, Fufflestar."
His voice sounded small and weak; she gave him a watery smile. "Thank you," she breathed.
Then louder (it would be too quiet if not for the whole assembly of cats holding their breath) she called, "Rushingpaw, Daisypaw, and Spottedpaw, will you three please step forward."
A cream colored blue-eyed she-cat, a solid brown tom with eyes barely a lighter shade, and at last a gray tabby she-cat with gray blue eyes, all came forward. They looked up at their leader with wide, wonder-filled eyes, glinting with the starlight that reflected from above.
Fufflestar pulled herself up a little onto her forepaws, but no more. Her voice rang like a final knell, as she stated, "I, Fufflestar, leader of Earthclan, call upon our warrior ancestors to look down upon these three apprentices. They have trained hard to be loyal, devoted warriors to their clan. But that is not all." Her eyes shine and her voice wavered, but she continued. "They have also become fine cats, each compassionate and kind. They are loyal to the warrior code, yes, but they also uphold a code we all could do better to imitate. Daisypaw, do you promise to uphold these codes, and protect your clan, even at the cost of your life?"
"I do," she whispered loudly in wonderment.
"Then with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give you your warrior name: Daisypelt."
"Now Rushingpaw. Do you promise to uphold these codes, and protect your clan, even at the cost of your life?"
He nodded. "I do," he said, stumbling a bit.
"Then," she broke off, coughs racking her body. She caught her breath and continued. "Then, with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give you your warrior name: Rushingriver."
There was tense silence as Fufflestar gazed down at the last apprentice with fondness. Her deputy to looked at her with approval, as his apprentice received her warrior name.
"Spottedpaw, do you promise to uphold these codes, and protect your clan, even at the cost of your life?"
Her answer was clear and unwavering, as she said, "I do."
"Then, with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give you your warrior name: Spottedpath."
There was a moment of silence, before the cats gathered shouted their warrior names in congradulations.
"Daisypelt! Rushingriver! Spottedpath! Dais-!"
Fufflestar sighed contentedly, head drooping and forepaws finally collapsing. Her deputy ran forward, gasping, "Fufflestar!"
He supported her, the crowd growing quieter as they noticed something wrong. "Just let me lean on you , old friend," she muttered. Then looking at him, she squinted. "You made your choice, yes."
His green eyes were glowing. "You already know my answer. Was it ever a choice?"
"Oh Tigerstripe," she breathed, like it was the last time he'd hear that name. Eyes shining like a yellow harvest moon. "Of course you have a choice. You always have had - you merely knew the answer in your heart all along."
Then, with a voice soft and drifting like mist, she declared, "As Starclan calls and I go to answer; I say these words before my death and approve now and shall stick by it after, Tigerstar is the new leader of Earthclan!"
The cats called him, voices like strong Leaf-fall wind; he saw his not-anymore apprentice Spottedpath yowl his name, and felt the other leaders support; he stared at Brackenheart, the first cat he'd choose for deputy; then at last he glanced at the sky, continuing to face it even as he closed his eyes, while his best friend breathed her last breath.
THE END