Song- Goodbye John Smith by Barns Courtney
The black tom padded forward, almost stumbling under the weight on his back and struggling to breathe through the bundles of herbs in his jaws. There were three reasons to get to camp, he reminded himself- the herbs in his jaws. His warrior name. The weight on his back.
He kept padding forward. His paws were screaming at him to stop- scratched pads and travel didn't mix well- but he kept moving forward. He hadn't stopped for the past two days, not even for sleep or to eat. He had to get back to RainClan.
"He's back!" a voice yowled, one that sounded squeaky, like a kit. He drowsily lifted his head, looking at the other apprentices in the den. First off, he saw a gray tabby tom, blinking bright blue eyes clear of sleep. This tom and himself were both large enough to be warriors, but hadn't been given their names, final assessments, or even journeys to the Moon Ridge. They had watched with humiliation as apprentices younger than them were given warrior names. They had watched as kits were given their apprentice names, and were granted their journey to the Moon Ridge moons into their training.
They were treated like warriors by their mentors, and by the rest of the Clan. They constantly helped in training the other apprentices. Yet they had been granted no name, because of a past that they had no part of, and a leader that cared too much for history.
He rose to his paws, shaking out his black fur before he padded silently around the nests of the other apprentices. Him and his littermate were looked at as a kind of den mother in this particular den.
A large, gray tom stood in the center of camp as warriors gathered around him. Nods were exchanged, and words were shared. The black tom barely noticed when his brother appeared at the mouth of the den next to him.
"He's back?" the tabby questioned, letting out a large yawn. "I thought it would've taken longer than that to get nine lives."
"Well, apparently, it doesn't." The gray tom leaped onto a large boulder, his tail swishing to the side.
"Let all cats strong enough to persevere the flood waters join here beneath the Tall Rock for a Clan meeting!" the tom yowled, his voice easily reaching all corners of the camp. The two oldest apprentices padded side by side, and sat down next to a white she-cat.
"I'm sure he'll mention something about you two," she meowed, curling her tail elegantly around her paws. "Volestar was a fool not to make you warriors, and the whole Clan knows it."
The black tom nodded his head. "Thank you, Beechcloud," he meowed. The warrior nodded her head.
"It's about time you two got your names," she spoke, and left it at that. The new leader spoke.
"As you could assume, I have gone to the Moon Ridge and have earned my nine lives. I am now the rightful leader of RainClan."
"Flailstar!" the Clan cheered. "Flailstar!"
The leader dipped his head as his Clan cheered his name, waiting for the cheers to fade out before he spoke again. "First, I must choose a deputy. I have thought long and hard about this decision, even on my way to and from the Moon Ridge, and I have decided that Tinyfeather will be the new deputy of RainClan."
The black tom's ears perked, and he turned his head to look at his mentor. The small, gray and white tabby she-cat padded forward and dipped her head. "I humbly accept, Flailstar. I can only hope to serve my Clan to the best of my ability."
"Tinyfeather! Tinyfeather!" the Clan cheered, and the black tom made sure his voice was heard clearly over the noise.
"Finally," Flailstar meowed. "There are two apprentices that have held that title for too long."
The tabby and the black tom raised their heads. Beechcloud purred from beside them. "Strikepaw, Sunpaw, come forward." Both toms rose to their paws and padded through the crowd of cats, standing in front of both Flailstar and Tinyfeather. "You two come from a line of cats that have done horrible things to the Clans," the leader began, "yet you both have proved yourself to be different from your ancestors, The Dark Furred Ones. Volestar was too afraid of what you would do as warriors to leave you without the constant supervision of your mentors, and all cats know that this was a mistake.
"However," Flailstar meowed, "A journey must be made, and I have already gone to the Moon Ridge." Strikepaw and Sunpaw glanced at each other, disappointment in their gazes. "Quicktail tells me that RockClan is fighting an illness that requires an herb from Twoleg Place. Your ancestors once terrorised RockClan, forcing them into a smaller territory and to nearly starve to death. Your task now, is to go to Twoleg Place and find the herb they need, and redeem your bloodline to the eyes of their Clan. When you return, you will be given your warrior names."
The black tom dipped his head, his golden eyes shining in excitement. "Thank you, Flailstar," Sunpaw meowed.
"Go see Quicktail for traveling herbs and the description of the herb RockClan needs. May StarClan light your path."
The two toms nodded, turning tail and padding towards Quicktail's den. The crowd parted for them, words of encouragement murmured quietly in their wake.
Sunpaw held his head high, despite the herbs in his jaws and the weight on his back. He had to get to RockClan, then he had to get back to RainClan. He repeated that thought to himself, to scared to think of anything else in fear of breaking down. His paws were sore, but he continued on. Eventually, he had to focus his mind onto his paws, too scared of falling to not be careful of where he stepped. He didn't stop. He kept moving.
"This'll be fun," Strikepaw meowed, flicking his tail to the side as they left the RainClan scent line behind. "We'll meet new cats, and fight new cats, and-"
"Gather herbs?" Sunpaw suggested.
"And gather herbs," Strikepaw added with a nod. "And after all that, we'll finally have our warrior names, and we'll help RockClan, too!"
Sunpaw purred. "Yeah," he meowed, his body buzzing at the thought of what his future held for him.
He padded past the RockClan border, hardly realizing he had over the scent of the herbs in his jaws. He didn't care that he was supposed to wait at the border. He had to get back to RainClan. He had to bring Strikepaw home.
He didn't know where the RockClan camp was, but he stopped in his place when a patrol padded out and surrounded him. The leader of the patrol, a russet tom, took a step forward, eying Strikepaw on his back hesitantly.
"What are you doing on RockClan territory?" he asked. Sunpaw dipped his head and put down his bundles of herbs.
"I have herbs for your medicine cat," he meowed. His voice sounded hoarse from disuse.
"And whose he?" a small, white she-cat who looked to be an apprentice asked. "Did you kill him?"
"Snowpaw," the russet tom growled, and the she-cat lowered her head and ears, but kept glaring at Sunpaw.
"Can't you smell him?" a black she-cat with pale gray markings meowed to the apprentice. "He's a RainClan warrior, and I'm sure the dead one is, too."
"What happened to him?" the russet tom asked, his tail flicking to the side.
Sunpaw hesitated before he answered. "Strikepaw didn't make it."
"Strikepaw?" Snowpaw asked. "Shouldn't you two be warriors by now?"
"Quiet, Snowpaw," the black she-cat meowed.
"Follow us," the russet tom meowed. He turned around and padded deeper into RockClan territory, with his patrol and Sunpaw on his heels.
"Is that what a Twoleg Place looks like?" Sunpaw asked, his golden eyes wide as he stared upwards.
"It's huge!" Strikepaw meowed, padding forward towards the massive buildings.
"Wait, Strikepaw!" Sunpaw meowed, but the other apprentice only went faster, leaping over a wooden fence and into an alleyway. Sunpaw balanced himself on top of the wood, and didn't have time to react before a white tom appeared behind a crate and scratched at Strikepaw's side.
"Get out of my alley!" he yowled, as Sunpaw dropped down onto him from the fence.
"Strikepaw, run!" Sunpaw ordered, leaping off of the rouge and down the alley as fast as he could. He could hear Strikepaw following after him, and they skidded to a stop outside of the alley, and just in front of a Thunderpath. The rouge, satisfied that they were off of his territory, left them alone. Sunpaw looked down at Strikepaw's wound. "We can't treat that," he meowed.
Strikepaw shrugged. "I'll make it until we get back to Quicktail."
"I'd suggest leaving Strikepaw out here," the black she-cat meowed before they entered camp. "You wouldn't want to frighten the cats in there."
Hesitantly, Sunpaw nodded, and with the help of the russet tom (who said he was named Ryeriver), they laid Strikepaw on the ground outside of the RockClan camp. The four cats padded inside, and Snowpaw led him to the Medicine Den.
Inside, cats were coughing, and a thin, shaggy furred gray tom was going from nest to nest, tending to all the cats. He looked up with blazing, dark blue eyes at the two cats, sniffing the air. "RainClan," he meowed, seemingly to himself. "You're one of the Cats Flailstar sent?" Sunpaw nodded. "Where's the other one?"
"He's dead," Snowpaw meowed bluntly. "Lying outside camp."
The thin tom padded forward and lifted a paw, giving the apprentice a harsh cuff around the ears. "That dead cat gave up his life to save our Clan," he growled. "You should treat him better than that."
Snowpaw quickly nodded, her eyes wide. "Yes, Northfrost!" she meowed, before racing outside of the den.
Northfrost turned his eyes towards Sunpaw. "You're a descendant of The Dark Furred Ones, aren't you?" he meowed. Sunpaw nodded once more, glancing down at his pitch black pelt. "Your brother, did he have fur as dark as yours?"
"No," he meowed. "He was a gray tabby."
Northfrost meowed. "Than maybe he was why you both turned out so good," he commented. "What's your name?"
"Sunpaw," he meowed. Northfrost nodded, before shoving him out of the den with a bony shoulder.
"I have work to be done, and I'm sure that Thistlestar wants to see you." He padded deeper into the den with a flick of his tail. Slowly, Sunpaw turned to look at a large, white tom, who was summoning him with a flick of his tail.
"Sunpaw, is it?" he asked, flicking an ear.
"Yes, Thistlestar," he meowed.
Thistlestar dipped his head to the apprentice. "RockClan thanks you for getting the herbs we needed," he meowed. Lifting his head up, he narrowed his eyes. "If you don't mind me asking, why don't you have a warrior name yet?"
"My ancestors are The Dark Furred Ones," Sunpaw explained, "and Volestar was too afraid of what Strikepaw and I would do as warriors. Flailstar promised us our warrior names when we returned."
Slowly, Thistlestar nodded. "May StarClan Light Your Path," he told the apprentice. "Breezewatcher, Mothshade," two cats raised their heads, looking towards their leader. One was a sleek, black she-cat whose fur was only as dark as the black she-cat that was part of Ryeriver's patrol and not nearly as dark as his. The other was a cream she-cat, with pine green eyes. "Help Sunpaw bring his brother back to the RainClan camp."
They looked around with a confused look on their faces, but nodded anyway. Sunpaw dipped his head towards Thistlestar, leading the way out of camp. He heard the two she-cats follow behind him.
"Great StarClan," Mothshade, the cream she-cat, meowed as she looked down at Strikepaw.
"His wound got infected," Breezewatcher noticed, sniffing at the tabby, and looking up at Sunpaw from the corner of her eye. "Didn't you say that you were a Dark Furred One?"
"My ancestors were," Sunpaw corrected.
"I thought all of you had 'fur as black as night', or whatever," Breezewatcher meowed, ignoring his comment.
"Strikepaw was different," he meowed.
The two she-cats helped place Strikepaw onto his back, and walked by his sides so that the dead apprentice wouldn't fall to the ground.
Herbs in bundles in their jaws, they padded easily across the flat landscape. Strikepaw was acting strangely, almost as if he was sick, but he kept up his usual happy and excited demeanor as they padded forward. Their pace slowed, but they were still moving, and Sunpaw was excited to earn his warrior name.
The three cats entered the RainClan camp when the sun was nearly set. Cats turned their eyes towards the rustling entrance and the RockClan scent, their eyes widening when they saw Strikepaw lying on top of Sunpaw's back. They were stopped at the entrance of camp by Flailstar, his green eyes staring at Strikepaw before they turned to Sunpaw.
"What happened?"
Sunpaw told him everything- about how he had leapt into a rouge's alley and gathering the herbs, and him seeming fine for a while, and then him falling, and not getting up again. Flailstar nodded when he was done with his story, and narrowed his eyes at the apprentice before him.
"When was the last time you ate, or slept?" he asked.
Sunpaw hesitated. "Two days ago."
Flailstar turned his eyes from Sunpaw to Breezewatcher, and from Breezewatcher to Mothshade. "Put him down in the center of the clearing," he ordered. "Thank you for helping Sunpaw bring him back home."
The two warriors nodded to the RainClan leader, and padded to the center of camp with Sunpaw. Smoothly, the three cats set him on the ground, and the RockClan cats left camp.
"Eat something, then sleep," Flailstar meowed. "Your warrior ceremony will be in the morning.
Sunpaw looked down at Strikepaw's body. "But-"
"You carried him here without sleep or rest," the leader meowed. "He knows you care about him. Now go eat."
He heard a thump from behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see a gray tabby tom lying on the ground. His flanks heaved with each labored breath, and the fur on his side was covered in dried blood. "Strikepaw!" he yowled, dropping the bundle of herbs in his jaws and rushing towards the other tom.
Strikepaw looked up at him with his bright blue eyes. His own bundle of herbs was lying only a few mouse tails away from his jaws, discarded by the fallen apprentice. He was panting, fighting for each breath and grasping onto it desperately.
"I can't," Strikepaw panted. "I can't," he repeated
"You have to," Sunpaw meowed, his tail flicking. "We'll finally get our warrior names."
"I guess-" Strikepaw broke off in a cough, blood leaving his jaws and landing on the grass. "I guess you'll be getting yours without me."
"No, no," Sunpaw meowed, "you can't give up now. Not when we're finally getting what we've always wanted."
"I know you can do it, Sunpaw," Strikepaw mewed quietly, as if he didn't have the energy to speak any louder. "The rest of our kin are in the Place of No Stars. We'll be the first to go to StarClan," he meowed. Tears slowly filled his eyes. "Wouldn't that be nice? Going to StarClan?"
"And we will," Sunpaw reassured. "But not today."
"I hear that they're always in Greenleaf," Strikepaw meowed, "and that cats never go hungry, or get sick."
Sunpaw felt his eyes burning with unshed tears. "What will happen to me if you're gone?" he asked softly. "I won't know where to start without you."
Strikepaw's eyes focused again, and he blinked slowly up at his brother. "See things," he meowed. "Go on every mission Flailstar offers." The gray tabby turned his head to look at the sky- the sky that Sunpaw knew was cloudy. The light was quickly, yet slowly leaving the apprentice's eyes, and Sunpaw thought that was something only Strikepaw could have done. "You're gone," Strikepaw meowed. "The sun's gone, so you are too. Take my herbs and shoo."
Sunpaw surprised himself. He laughed. Tears fell from his eyes, and he kept laughing in between sobs. When he calmed down, Strikepaw was lying there, still, on the ground.
The black tom slowly hefted his brother onto his back. He carefully picked up Strikepaw's bundle of herbs, then his own, and he kept going.
"I, Flailstar, leader of RainClan," the tom meowed, looking up at the sky that was slowly getting brighter from the sunrise from his place on the Tall Rock, "call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this apprentice. He has trained hard to learn the way of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn."
Flintstar looked down at Sunpaw. He could feel an excitement that reminded him of Strikepaw thrumming through his veins. "Sunpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?"
"I do," the tom meowed. Strikepaw had talked about life in StarClan before he died, and Sunpaw wanted to join him there someday.
"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Sunpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Sunfire. StarClan honors your dedication and loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of RainClan."
Flailstar leapt off of the Tall Rock, setting his muzzle on top of his head. Sunfire licked his shoulder in return.
"Strikepaw! Sunpaw! Strikepaw! Sunpaw!" The Clan cheered.
Volestar narrowed his eyes, his gaze directed towards the nursery. "Now that these two are apprentices, Vixentuft's sentence can be carried out." The leader narrowed his eyes towards the deputy. "Flailflame, bring her forward."
The crowd parted as a she-cat, with fur as dark as Sunpaw's and eyes as bright as Strikepaw's was padding in front of a gray tom. "Vixentuft," Volestar began, "eight moons ago you were sentanced to execution, and eight moons ago you revealed you were expecting kits. Your crime, itself, was murdering kits, and now that Strikepaw and Sunpaw have no need of your care any longer, the time for your death has come. Do you have anything to say?"
Vixentuft looked at Strikepaw and Sunpaw- she'd never looked at them with love, only with a sort of thankfulness, and Sunpaw knew that it was because they were the reason she was still alive. She looked back up at Volestar with a dark smile on her face and her head held high. "No, I killed those kits," she meowed.
Volestar's eyes narrowed, and he leapt down from the Tall Rock. In less than a heartbeat, his claws easily scoring across her throat.
"Sunfire! Sunfire!" The Clan cheered. He was sure that he could hear Strikepaw's voice.