Author's Note: I may end up changing the end of this chapter a little, since I felt that Brokenpaw was a little out of character. In the meantime, I'd love to know what you guys all think; am I being too critical of my writing, or is his personality a little off?
I've also been meaning to thank all my reviewers for quite a few chapters now, but I kept forgetting in my excitement to post the new chapter. I really appreciate all your feedback, especially since you all leave such wonderful and positive comments. Some of your reviews just make my day, so thank you! :)
In reply to a few of said reviewers:
To Wood Cats: *Virtually hugs back* Glad you liked it! ;)
To Shiverdream of WindClan: Don't worry, you're not the only one to make that mistake. Even the Erin Hunters accidentally described Brokenstar as a black cat (in The Last Hope). If the writers can't remember what their own cats look like, you can't be expected to remember every single one either. XD
Speaking of appearance inconsistencies, sorry if I made a few. The allegiances didn't tell my any of the elders' eye colors, and I was too tired to scour every page of Yellowfang's Secret trying to find them, so I made up my own. If I made a mistake, kindly point it out in a review, and I'll fix it as soon as I get the chance. Thanks!
Alright, enough of my chatter. Read, review and enjoy! ;)
Chapter Nine: An Elder's Story
She was less proud of him when he beat up Deerpaw the next day for calling him a coward on the subject of the matter.
"Why in the name of StarClan would you fight him?" Yellowfang demanded when Nightpelt dragged Brokenpaw into the medicine den to get his scratches healed. Deerpaw had been treated first, so the medicine cat already knew what had happened from his explanation of why he was covered in cuts. Now she was steaming mad, furious that she had to waste herbs treating the minor injuries that had resulted from a pointless fight between Clanmates.
"I had to defend my honor!" Brokenpaw insisted, knowing full well that Yellowfang would not accept this excuse, but having no other reason for his actions. He hadn't thought about what he was doing, just about making Deerpaw take back the insult. "He called me a coward!"
"I could call you a coward right now, and you wouldn't claw my face off!" snapped Yellowfang. "You may not have just jumped on him for no reason, but you and I both know that there would have needed to be a better reason than the one you just told me."
They did, but Brokenpaw wasn't about to admit that. It was true that personal grudges had played a part in his actions, he supposed. But that was Deerpaw's fault, not his, and it was Deerpaw's problem in the end, not his. Brokenpaw knew better than to say this out loud, however, so he kept his mouth closed as Yellowfang scolded him.
Nightpelt was equally frustrated with his apprentice. "You know better than that!" he meowed with stern authority, when Brokenpaw's scratches had been treated and bandaged with cobwebs. "You're not a kit that's picked on in the nursery anymore. You're a warrior apprentice of ShadowClan who should be responsible for his own actions."
Nightpelt then proceeded to assign him a punishment; changing the elders' bedding and removing their tics for as long as it took to learn his lesson.
Brokenpaw knew that there was no use pretending he was sorry; Nightpelt would see immediately whether or not he was sincere. Instead, he bowed his head submissively, and with a resentful glance towards Deerpaw, who was sharing freshkill with Tanglepaw, bounded off to fetch moss for the elders' nests. He remembered from his time playing in Yellowfang's den as a kit that he wasn't supposed to take any of the soft, leafless plant from her store, so he headed into the forest with the intent of finding fresh bedding.
That was how he ended up questing for moss in the woods.
Moss grew everywhere, but the elders were the pickiest cats in camp. The moss needed to be the softest in the forest, and couldn't have a speck of water on it, or they would complain it was damp. It couldn't be too dry either, or they would yowl that it was bristly. If it—StarClan forbid—had thorns in it, Brokenpaw would hear their whining from Highstones. So he knew it would take a while to find moss for their bedding, because it had to be perfect, or a whisker's width from it.
Deerpaw should be punished too! his mind insisted, as he scoured the forest for suitable moss. It wasn't like he stood there like a martyr, letting me claw him as he refused to break the warrior code!He fought back; he was just as wrong as I was!
True he hadn't started the fight, but he had instigated it. That was just as bad in Brokenpaw's eyes. But neither Yellowfang or Nightpelt had seemed to agree, so here he was, stuck with a punishment while Deerpaw was probably boasting that he had beaten Brokenpaw. It would be a lie of course; they both knew Brokenpaw would have shredded his skimpy pelt if the dark tabby had gotten the chance to finish the fight.
Well, there's no point dwelling on it now, Brokenpaw thought, shaking his head to clear the plaintive voices nagging at him.
He scanned all the trees with his gaze as he walked, becoming increasingly bored as he went along. That tree has no moss… too dry and crinkly… Great StarClan, the elders would tear out my pelt if I filled their nest with mushrooms!… Aw, that could have been good if it wasn't full of swamp water… Is that clump good?No—there's fox scent around here, and they'll complain it reeks of the creatures… still too dry… there's not enough there… no moss… no moss…
He suddenly caught sight of a patch of especially green moss, which jolted him out of his thoughts. Excited at the thought of his punishment not taking as long as he had expected, he bounded over to it and sniffed the fluffy patch. To his disappointment, it was soaking wet from the previous night's rainfall and glittered with beads of water in the morning light.
The dark tabby straightened up, twitching an ear thoughtfully. Should I pull it up and wait for it to dry? he wondered, as he eyed the moss critically. Or should I accept the fact that I can't use this bit and go searching for a better clump that may or may not exist?
Pondering this, Brokenpaw realized that he'd have to be able to pull it up without getting splinters in it, as this was another flaw the elders might complain about. My decision may end up being made for me anyhow, he realized. So I might as well try working this clump loose, and see how far I get.I can decide after that, if I don't utterly destroy it, whether I should use it or not. Satisfied, the apprentice unsheathed his claws and began to carefully pry up the moss.
It was more difficult than he expected; the roots of the moss clung deeply into the bark of the pine tree on which it grew. He tried wedging his claws under the moss, but it wouldn't budge, and he abandoned that attempt when he scraped his claws painfully on the bark. Next, he went for hooking his talons into the surface of the moss, trying to pull it up that way. The efforts were futile; he only succeeded in shredding off tufts of the plant and making a mess of it.
He glared, determined to get this piece of moss. No wonder this task is reserved for cats that need punishing! he thought. It's a pain in the tail, and the most tedious thing I've ever done, not to mention a complete waste of time!I could have caught three shrews and a fox in the time I've been using to get the elders their perfect moss.
Suddenly, an idea came to Brokenpaw. I may not be able to get the moss off the bark, but what if I could get the bark off the tree?Then I wouldn't bash up my claws so much, and it'd be a lot easier to peel the moss off… Deciding it was worth a try, Brokenpaw bunched his muscles and leaped at the tree, kicking out with his back paws just above the patch of moss. With a satisfying snap, a huge piece of bark was dislodged from the tree, complete with moss attached.
It worked! Pleased, Brokenpaw padded over to his handiwork and flipped it over so that the side with the moss was down. He then unsheathed his claws again and scraped off the bark with relatively no difficulty. Some parts broke a little, scattering splinters, but he was able to brush most of them off before they could get tangled up in the plant.
When he was done, he took a moment to pick out the last bits of splinters and double checked that there were absolutely no flaws with the moss. It was still a bit damp, but a bit of time in the sun could change that. Picking it up carefully in his jaws and making sure he had a good grip on it—StarClan forbid he drop all his hard work into a puddle of mud—Brokenpaw bounded back to camp.
When he got back, Brokenpaw found all the elders sunning themselves, as it was a lovely morning. Good, he thought.I'll be able to change their bedding without them shuffling around in the den and making a nuisance of themselves without even trying. He mentally rebuked himself almost immediately after. Fox-dung, I promised Yellowfang I'd be more respectful to my elders, and this isn't a great way to start.He remembered openly criticizing Nightpelt in front of her, and recalled the fiery she-cat's fury at the way he had talked about the older tom.
Thinking of Yellowfang, Brokenpaw remembered that he needed to fetch mouse-bile for the elders' ticks. He winced at the thought, but decided he'd better get it over with. Depositing his moss in the sunlight to dry, he bounded over to the medicine den.
"Hey Yellowfang!" he called, hoping that she was in a better mood than when he had last seen her. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the den, he spotted Yellowfang making her way towards him, a wispy gray shadow in the gloom.
"In search of some mouse-bile?" she asked him, her orange eyes glinting. There was a soft thud as she dropped something foul-smelling at his paws. "It's in there," she added, as she turned away to return to her herbs. "Be sure to wash your paws well in the stream when you're finished; your denmates won't thank you for the smell of that!"
"Good to know," Brokenpaw mewed, half-joking. There were few things he enjoyed more than doing things that irked the other apprentices. And it might be fun to just drop a little mouse-bile into Deerpaw's nest…
"I should have known you'd say that." Brokenpaw was relieved to hear a good-humored note in Yellowfang's voice. "Apprentices these days are never up to anything good."
In a much better mood, Brokenpaw emerged back into the sunlight of the camp and headed over to where the elders were lounging in the sun. There were five of them at the moment, he noted with an inward sigh. That was five cats' worth of ticks, and five nests to change. He padded up to Littlebird first; she was the friendliest of ShadowClan's elders.
"I've been sent to get rid of your ticks," he meowed.
"Oh, thank you, Brokenpaw," replied the old she-cat, readjusting herself so that her back faced the young tom. "I know there's one at the base of my tail, and I'm sure there's one somewhere in my shoulder, but I can't seem to pinpoint it."
Brokenpaw resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the ginger tabby. It was hard for him to take the elders seriously when they acted as if they couldn't do anything. He couldn't really believe that they had ever been strong young warriors.
"You know, he's not doing this voluntarily," Deerleap pointed out, looking at them with unfriendly amber eyes. She was lying in the sun by Archeye, their gray tabby pelts blending with each other's and the warm stone beneath them. Deerleap was one of the strictest cats in the Clan, when it came to both mentoring, Brokenpaw had heard, and the Clan laws. She had never really liked him to begin with, and was all disapproval about his breaking the warrior code.
"Voluntary or not, it's what gets done that counts," mewed Littlebird cheerfully.
"Eh," said Archeye skeptically. "I still think apprentices were way better behaved in my day. They actually helped of their own accord. We never once complained about our duty to our elders."
Lizardfang looked amused. "That's the biggest load of fox-dung I've ever heard," the old light brown tabby chuckled. "You and the others always tried to get out of ridding the elders of their ticks. I know you did, because we all did, even in my generation. That was how it was!"
Brokenpaw suppressed a growl of annoyance as he hunted down the tick in Littlebird's shoulder. He had already gotten rid of the one in her tail, but he could see another one in her side, and this was only the first elder. After that, he still had to change all of their nests. And that was only today; his punishment lasted much longer than that.
"I think we're boring our helper here with conversation of old times," Littlebird interjected gently, as Crowtail and Archeye got into a heated debate about whether or not the prey tasted better moons ago. "He doesn't want to hear about those things."
Deerleap eyed Brokenpaw haughtily. "Then what does our helper wish to hear?"
Brokenpaw flattened his ears in embarrassment, feeling his pelt grow hot. "Whatever you want to talk about," he shot back. "No cat is stopping you!"
"I think we should tell him a legend," meowed Archeye, shuffling his haunches and curing his tail over his front paws. His yellow eyes held wisdom and—was that a spark of laughter he saw in the old tom's gaze? "The one of Darkflame and Brighteye."
Deerleap's eyes glittered knowingly. "An excellent choice," she meowed.
"I will begin," decided Lizardfang, shifting to sit up on his haunches. He moved slowly, his arthritic bones making his movements stiff. The other elders nodded respectfully; Lizardfang was the oldest cat in the Clan, and held seniority in the elders' den.
Whatever, thought Brokenpaw, moving towards Deerleap now that he was finished removing Littlebird's ticks, but the gray tabby aimed a hiss in his direction, so he circled around to settle by Crowtail instead. The narrow black she-cat made no move to discourage him, so the apprentice began to dab at the first tick with mouse-bile. Let them tell their dumb story and get it over with; at least Deerleap won't be shooting me hostile looks if she's listening to the tale.
"There was once a young warrior in ShadowClan named Darkflame," began Lizardfang in his rasping voice. "He was well liked by his young peers, but distrusted by the older cats for his ambitious nature. Nevertheless, the deputy, Brighteye, was fond of the striving young cat, and for whatever reason, placed his faith in Darkflame when it was time for him to be leader. He chose Darkflame as his new deputy, right before he set off to receive his nine lives."
"Now, Darkflame and Brighteye looked very much alike, despite having no blood relation to one another. Both, you see, were black cats with white markings on their chests and throats. The only clear difference between the two was a white blaze over Brighteye's left eye."
Brokenpaw was giving the story only half of his attention; after he had heard that Darkflame was well liked by his peers, he had dismissed the legendary cat as nothing like himself. He focused the majority of his attention on his task, listening only enough to make sure that Deerleap wouldn't suspect his lack of interest in the story.
"So Darkflame saw his chance," meowed Deerleap, taking up the story where Lizardfang had left off. "When Brighteye set out alone with his medicine cat, Darkflame followed in secret. As the medicine cat headed down the tunnel into Highstones, Brighteye paused on the hill outside the entrance. Some say that he knew something was amiss. But any suspicion he might have had was too late—Darkflame leapt out of the shadows and killed Brighteye, taking his place."
Brokenpaw jerked in surprise, his attention caught. He hadn't expected the story to take this turn; he wondered where the elders were going with this. Captivated against his will, Brokenpaw settled into a more comfortable position to listen.
"He slashed his own face with his claws," continued Deerleap. "It left a scar above his left eye; in the darkness, the medicine cat mistook the pale skin beneath for a blazing white mark. And Darkflame had rolled himself in Brighteye's scent before coming into the cavern. So, believing Darkflame to be Brighteye, the medicine cat led him to receive nine lives."
"StarClan actually allowed that?" Brokenpaw demanded, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be interested in the story. "Even though Darkflame killed Brighteye?"
"He was the deputy," Littlebird explained with a nod. "It is part of the warrior code that the deputy of a Clan must become leader after the current leader dies. StarClan could either give him nine lives and hope he would make no further acts against the warrior code, or risk their own honor by breaking the very code they had created."
"So they chose to give him lives," continued Crowtail, "each along with a warning. They told Darkflame that he must serve his Clan according the warrior code, or they would let his own guilt destroy him and ShadowClan."
"At first, Darkflame—now Darkstar—was unconcerned with StarClan's ominous cautions, for he felt no guilt, nor remorse for his actions. Despite the evil methods by which he had gained his leadership, he truly did want what was best for his Clan; something he thought he could supply to them. But as moons passed, and ShadowClan remained exactly as it was, neither suffering nor thriving, Darkstar began to question himself."
Brokenpaw kept his attention on Littlebird as he switched over to Archeye. He found himself filled with an ominous foreboding as he listened to the story, as if it were somehow personal to him. Had the elders known he would feel this way when they picked the story?
"'Have I really done the right thing for ShadowClan?' he asked himself," Littlebird went on. "'Or did I make a horrible mistake somehow?' Little by little, Darkstar lost faith in himself and his choices and eventually succumbed to the guilt in his heart."
"One night, Brighteye came to Darkstar in a dream," meowed Archeye. "Overcome with grief and remorse, Darkstar threw himself down at Brighteye's feet and wept."
"'I'm so, so sorry,' he whispered. 'You put faith and trust in me like no one else ever has, and I betrayed you. I killed you for my own gain, with no regret. I was utterly selfish, but more than that, I was blind, because I never saw how important the life of a friend was. I do not deserve to lead the cats who were your kin and friends, the Clan that should have been yours; the Clan that is rightfully yours. They call me by your name, but I am not and never will be half the cat you are.'"
"For a long moment, Brighteye was quiet, and Darkstar feared that the StarClan cat had not heard him. But when he opened his mouth to repeat his words, Brighteye spoke at last. 'Rise and face me like an equal,' he meowed to Darkstar. 'You are right when you said you are not half the cat I am; you are your own cat, completely full and whole. You have made mistakes, but our mistakes are what shape us into who we are. The fact that I stand here before you means that you regret my death and seek to atone for your mistakes."
"'I do,' Darkstar replied," meowed Crowtail, taking up the story again, as Brokenpaw moved to start working at Lizardfang's ticks. "'But there is more to my mistakes that you do not yet know; StarClan told me that guilt will destroy me and ShadowClan. And I fear it has already begun, for my guilt is eating away at my heart.' Indeed it had, for Darkstar had begun to fall ill, no longer able to stand tall and proud with such a weight on his shoulders."
"'Then do not be guilty,' responded Brighteye."
"'How can I not be after all I have done?' cried Darkstar, confused and appalled."
"'Be better than you were before,' meowed Brighteye, beginning to fade away. 'While you still have life in your body, you will always be able to make up for your sins.'"
"When Darkstar first woke up, he had no idea what he could possibly do as penance for such grievous mistakes. But as he looked out over his Clan, he knew where he had to start," meowed Lizardfang, replacing Crowtail as storyteller. "He called his Clan together and told them of his deeds, revealing himself as Darkstar, a coward and traitor, not the beloved Brightstar they thought their leader was. The Clan, furious and grief-stricken, drove him out of ShadowClan. Darkstar then fled to the Moonstone and willingly renounced his nine lives."
"He died?" gasped Brokenpaw. "Just like that?"
"Not yet," meowed Deerleap, fixing him with intense amber eyes. "He still had his original life left to live. And so, once more Darkflame, he had a new beginning outside the Clan. He longed to return to ShadowClan, but he knew he was neither worthy, nor welcome to be there. So he wandered alone, watching over his Clan from a distance, but never rejoining them."
"From time to time, he found them in danger and fought off threats. Countless times he was injured battling away a dog or a fox, or went hungry, leaving all the prey for his Clan. He let himself suffer for the good of his cats. And there was one time, as happens to all of us in our own time, that he did not recover. He died alone, not far from his Clan, but forgotten by them."
Brokenpaw felt a sharp pang of loss. Although it was just a story, he felt pity for the cat who had worked so hard for a redemption that his Clanmates had never seen.
"But that was not the end of his story," continued Deerleap, stretching her stiff limbs. She paused to yawn, then returned her gaze to Brokenpaw's face. "For the moment he breathed his last, he was aware of the stars shining around him. And when he opened his eyes, he found himself reunited with Brighteye, who nodded to him."
"'You have redeemed yourself, Darkflame,' he mewed, wisdom and starlight together glowing in his eyes. 'You have proved yourself a worthy cat of StarClan, for despite having none of the rewards of Clan life, you stayed true to the warrior code to your last breath. Come and join us.'"
"And so, Darkflame came to shine among the brightest stars, for his journey had been long and hard, but he had never truly forsaken his faith."
For a moment, Brokenpaw was silent as Deerleap finished the story. He felt choked with emotion, a strange and alien feeling to him, yet not entirely unpleasant. In fact, he could almost have called it a warm feeling, as he had felt earning Yellowfang's praise. And it was in that moment, thinking of his own life once more, that Brokenpaw realized the true meaning of the story. He could see it just as clearly in Deerleap's eyes and she gazed at him. The elders wanted him not only to regret breaking the warrior code by attacking a Clanmate, but for him to apologize, to make up for his mistakes.
For a moment, the dark tabby's pride held him back. But if Darkflame could have the courage to apologize to a cat he had killed, Brokenpaw could apologize to someone he had only slightly shredded. For the first time in his life, Brokenpaw felt a shift in the way he thought. For once, he was thinking of Deerpaw as a Clanmate to which he owed respect, not an enemy. He was no longer a kit in the nursery, he realized with this epiphany. He had reached the point in his apprenticeship that he began to see the world through the eyes of a warrior, a mature cat.
Brokenapw got to his paws resolutely. "I've got something I need to do," he meowed, dipping his head to the elders. "I'll see you all later." And with that, he got up and bounded off towards the apprentice den in search of Deerpaw.
"Wait!" yowled Deerleap. "You still haven't gotten rid of my ticks or changed our bedding!"
"Don't worry about it!" Littlebird called after him. Her golden eyes twinkled knowingly; she understood where he was going. "I'll finish up your job here!"
"Thanks, Littlebird!" he called back, feeling grateful to the small ginger she-cat.
In the end, the elders' tale taught him more than he had realized that day; the story was not only about forgiving others, but forgiving oneself.
