P.S. How come everything I write sounds like something copied from Warriors? This one sounds like Firestar's leader ceremony. It's a bit boring to read, so I guess you can skip it if you want.
P.P.S. I dunno if Goldenflower's really Dustpelt's mother. I'm guessing. ;D
Chapter FiveFirestar gazed at Dustpelt, his eyes so intense they caught and held the warrior's. "Welcome, Dustpelt. Are you ready to receive your nine lives?"
Dustpelt nodded silently, his throat too choked to speak.
Firestar stepped backwards, joining the throng of cats that surrounded Dustpelt. The warrior's head was spinning as he looked around at the multitude of StarClan cats. There were so many unfamiliar faces…and familiar ones - cats who had been killed in the fatal battle with BloodClan. All of them were still, as if waiting. Dustpelt dared not make a sound and break the heavy silence.
Then he saw that a cat was shouldering his way towards him. Raising his head, Dustpelt went still with shock. His green eyes widened as he recognised his first mentor, Redtail.
Redtail did not seem to have changed a bit since the days when he was alive. Except…he seemed taller, stronger, in the prime of his life. All the cats did, realised Dustpelt. Yet those amber eyes were still intelligent and wise, and the former deputy of ThunderClan still moved with his lithe, quick steps.
Dustpelt looked up into Redtail's eyes, feeling like an apprentice again, such was the wisdom and understanding in them. "Redtail," he whispered in awe.
Redtail smiled down at his former apprentice. "With this life I give you courage. Use it well to stand up for what you know is right, and to fight no matter what the danger." His voice was strong and deep, just as Dustpelt faintly remembered from all those moons ago. They seemed a lifetime away, now, his moons as an apprentice. But he still felt the same awe and respect for his former mentor.
Redtail touched noses with Dustpelt, and the warrior flinched as the life rushed into him. A jolt of pure strength and courage surged through his body, from nosetip to tail, and he felt his fur bristle. Redtail was pouring all of his own courage and loyalty into Dustpelt's life.
When it was over, Dustpelt straightened, trembling. I've never experienced anything like that before. Are all my lives going to be so…He couldn't find any words to describe the experience. Still, he held his head high and squared his shoulders, determined.
Another cat was already padding towards the warrior. Dustpelt blinked when he recognized Firestar's old friend and former deputy of ThunderClan Graystripe. The tabby's amber eyes shone with determination and strength as he gazed at Dustpelt. They had been apprentices together and were roughly the same age, but Dustpelt felt young and ignorant as he looked up at the other cat.
Bending his head, Graystripe touched his nose gently to Dustpelt's own. "With this life I give you strength to carry on no matter what," he proclaimed. "Use it well to do what is best no matter what others say." Dustpelt was sure the StarClan cat was referring to the way he himself had given up his Clan and friends for love of a RiverClan cat.
The life that Graystripe gave was filled with determination, the kind that made you push aside fear and doubts to do what you thought and knew was right. As it flowed through him, Dustpelt felt a sure knowledge that no matter what, he would keep going, keep battling on. He felt an urge to leap up and yowl a challenge to the whole world.
As the tide of strength ebbed away, Graystripe brought his muzzle close to Dustpelt's ear and said softly, "Look after my kits for me." The next moment, the grey tabby was padding away, making way for the next cat. I will look after Stormpaw and Featherpaw, Graystripe, Dustpelt promised silently.
Another deputy of ThunderClan – this time, it was Whitestorm. Dustpelt remembered seeing him killed by Bone, second-in-command of BloodClan. He remembered, too, how before the battle, the experienced old warrior had seemed to know that he was expected in StarClan. Well, it seemed he had been right after all.
Whitestorm's amber eyes – eyes the colour of sun-baked sand – were kindly as he looked at the ThunderClan cat. "With this life I give you fairness," he meowed. "Use it well judge right and wrong, and to keep the peace." He touched noses with Dustpelt.
Every hair on Dustpelt's pelt stood on end as the life thrilled through him. He experienced Whitestorm's concern and loyalty for his Clan and leaders Bluestar and Firestar, felt his sense of responsibility mixed with pride when he was made deputy, the way he had always been just to other cats. And his dying thoughts, that he should have fought harder to help his Clan.
Panting, Dustpelt raised his head to see Whitestorm already turning away.
Then, the tabby blinked, recognizing the black cat that padded towards him, white-tipped tail held high. Ravenpaw! The tom had left ThunderClan as an apprentice, unable to bear the secret that he knew – the secret about Redtail's death. They had been apprentices together, with Graystripe, Sandstorm, and later, Firestar.
Like the previous two cats, Ravenpaw touched noses with Dustpelt. "With this life I give you great loyalty. Use it well to serve the clans and keep the warrior spirit flowing in your veins and theirs."
The gift of life set Dustpelt's heart racing, a rush of fierce desire to serve till death. The way Ravenpaw himself had still served and battled alongside the other cats against BloodClan, even though he had left his Clan long ago to become a loner. No matter what, Dustpelt would be loyal. He would.
As Ravenpaw padded away, Dustpelt drew a shaky breath. He felt an urge to sit down and rest, but somehow he knew he had to keep standing to receive his lives. Then his head shot up when the next cat neared him.
Sandstorm's intelligent green eyes shone at the warrior, her cream tabby pelt rippling like that of a lioness. She leaned forward to touch noses with Dustpelt, meowing, "With this life I give you ferocity. Use it well to battle enemies, no matter how great or deadly, without surrendering. Use it to battle like a warrior of LionClan or TigerClan or CheetahClan."
Sandstorm's gift was like a bolt of lightning from the sky, charged with energy. For a moment, Dustpelt felt himself in the thick of a battle, the clash of claws and fangs, furious yowls echoing, battlefire in eyes…
He blinked and the vision cleared. The memory and life remained, though. Dustpelt felt more like a warrior than ever before, his heart pounding with strength and fierceness, his eyes narrowed and claws half-unsheathed.
Sandstorm gave him a mischievous smile and turned away.
Now…a pale ginger cat padded towards him. When she lifted her head, green eyes shining, Dustpelt recognized her. His mother, Goldenflower. For a moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to rush forward and nuzzle her like a kit again. He held himself still, head high, with an effort.
Goldenflower's fur seemed to glow with warmth and light, though it was night. She bent to touch noses, and Dustpelt leaned forward to acquiescence. Her voice soft, the StarClan cat meowed, "With this life I give you responsibility. Use it well to carry out the duties you are given with carefulness and thoughtfulness, whatever they may be." Her emerald eyes still glowed with the fire and spirit she had shown in life, protecting her last litter of kits – the kits of the traitor Tigerstar.
The life swept onto him like a wave of fire. Dustpelt braced himself against it, for a moment feeling lost and weighed down by a heavy burden. Shaking his head, he saw the fire before his eyes clear, and the tom was suddenly filled with a clear sense of revelation, felt that he knew what to do. The knowledge gave him strength and courage. Whatever responsibility he was given, he would bear it with pride and honour.
He had left the nursery long ago – how long? Moons ago… - yet Goldenflower looked like a first-time queen as she gazed at him, pride instead of temper shining in her green eyes now. "Be well, my son," she whispered, and was gone.
The cat that approached was smaller this time. Dustpelt almost started forward when he realised the tom was his former apprentice and Fernpaw's brother…Ashpaw.
Ashpaw's eyes were dark blue instead of pale green like his sister's, intense and intelligent. He had always been a quick learner and steady worker. He seemed much older than his nine moons, now, as he gazed up at his mentor, almost tiptoeing to touch noses. Despite the apprentice's smaller size, Dustpelt never felt that he was superior to the speckled grey tom.
"With this life I give you wisdom and a thirst for knowledge," Ashpaw meowed, his blue eyes glinting. "Use it well to sharpen your wits and guide your cats down the smoothest paths of life."
Dustpelt gasped as the life rushed into him. It was filled with a pulsing yet calm power, a drive to find out whys and hows and whats, a drive to know. And the warrior suddenly knew, too, that knowledge was strength and survival, and that ignorance was a sin. He had to know.
Breaking out of the StarClan façade, Ashpaw suddenly grinned up at the panting warrior. "I never could wait to learn," he meowed, before padding away.
Only two cats left. Dustpelt had an idea of who they might be. He wasn't sure he could keep on his paws much longer; they were aching and sore from supporting him and digging into the ground. His head swam in dizziness…how long had he been standing here? He couldn't guess. Minutes? Hours? Days? Moons? Time seemed to have frozen, leaving him confused.
His train of thought was broken by the next cat, who stepped lightly towards him over the soft grass. Despite expecting her, Dustpelt's breath caught in his throat. She looked more beautiful than ever, so graceful and fleet. Her green eyes shone at Dustpelt, their expression saying more than words ever could.
Fernpaw halted before him. He looked down at her, unable to speak. Whiskers trembling, the StarClan cat meowed, "With this life I give you gentleness and love." Like her brother, she had to reach to touch noses with him. He caught a brief scent of her breath as they touched, sweet and minty, sweeter than roses. "Use it well to care for your friends and loved ones, young and old, and use it to show mercy to your enemies, no matter how bitter or deadly."
This life was different from the rest. It was a glow of fierce pure love, stronger than like, stronger than lust, stronger than even loyalty. As strong as the love Dustpelt had for Fernpaw, and the love that she had for him in return. It started from the nosetip, where Fernpaw had so briefly touched, and spread through his head and body and down his legs to the tips of his paws and the tip of his tail. Dustpelt closed his eyes in pure bliss, gratefully drinking in the warmth and comfort of the love. As he inhaled, Fernpaw's scent filled his mind.
It left him feeling refreshed and contented. A lick on his cheek woke him up. Fernpaw gazed up at him, then blinked once – twice – her eyes filled with sorrow and loss and the same love he had just received, and padded away.
Squaring his shoulders, Dustpelt felt ready for his last life.