We've reached the end of this little trilogy. I hope you all enjoyed it, maybe felt a lil something and grew a lil attached to these backgroundish boys. And I extra hope that you check out Catch and Release!
Harespring was tired.
After the battle, he had learned that he had collapsed. Kestrelflight had nursed him and a dozen others back to life. A dozen more never stepped off the battlefield. He learned their names.
Breezepelt was gone—not dead, he was told. Crowfeather and Nightcloud spoke little to any cat other than each other, grieving their son and the choice he had made. Heathertail was battling dire injuries in RiverClan medicine den and had yet to wake up. Kestrelflight was running himself ragged, moving between the camps, caring for half the Clan at once.
And Harespring was…
Well, he wasn't quite sure yet. He wasn't banished. He wasn't dead. He wasn't victorious. He was just… tired.
Two days after the battle, too long after Ashfoot had been buried, Onestar approached Harespring.
"I want you to be my deputy."
Harespring raised his head from his paws, where he'd been lying at the edge of camp, studying his Clanmates. "Why."
Onestar's gaze was unreadable. "Because you're the best tom for the job. And the other leaders and I have decided to forgive the Dark Forest trainees."
Harespring huffed a laugh. You, and no one else. There was a reason he hadn't spoken to most of his Clanmates since the battle. He and Larkwing had buried Sunstrike alone. He hadn't even tried to attend Tornear's vigil.
"Pity, then?"
Onestar's eyes flashed at the hint of insolence in his voice, then repeated, "I believe you're the best tom for the job."
"Hm." Harespring let his gaze drift, imagining being deputy. Organizing patrols. I'm sure every cat would be thrilled that I'm telling them what to do then. His gaze slid to the medicine den, and he quickly averted his eyes. More expectations. He'd sit with Brambleclaw, Reedwhisker, and Rowanclaw at Gatherings. No, not Brambleclaw anymore. Because Firestar is dead.
"Well? I'll hold the ceremony now, if you say yes," Onestar said.
If say yes? Harespring swallowed hard. I should be so honoured. I should be amazed that I'm being offered such a position over any senior warrior. But… He couldn't feel much of anything. "Alright." There wasn't much else he could think to say besides that.
Onestar nodded. The leader liked to get his own way, Harespring knew, which suited Harespring fine. I don't need to do any of the leading. I'll just fall in line with whatever Onestar says, then I'll die in some unfortunate accident, and then some cat meant for greatness like Heathertail will succeed him. His mind made up, Harespring stood and followed Onestar to the Tallrock.
It was easier than he'd expected—both the ceremony and the work after it. Undoubtedly, the Clan hated him. Ashfoot had been very popular, and now she was dead. Crowfeather had been an obvious choice to fill her pawprints; her son, a former prophecy cat, and a brave warrior in his own right. Harespring wondered if the scent of scandal that hung over Crowfeather and Leafpool's heads was what had killed the elder tom's chances at deputyship, and Harespring wondered why Onestar thought a traitor was a better choice.
Still, all Harespring had to do for now was dip his head and thank Onestar for it. The routine afterward was much the same: fall in line with Onestar, get up early to organize patrols, and avoid giving his Clanmates another reason to hate him. He managed for a few days, and found himself relieved that the new position entailed so much work. He didn't have a spare moment to linger in camp, trying to catch the eye of the tom who rarely left the medicine den because Boulderfur was badly hurt.
Harespring kept busy. A day later, though, Boulderfur was dead, and Heathertail wasn't. Onestar told Harespring to tell Kestrelflight to fetch back Onestar's 'son,' and Harespring spoke his first words to Kestrelflight in five days.
"He wants you to go get Heathertail."
"Alright."
Kestrelflight didn't meet his gaze, merely dipped his head and left camp without looking back. Harespring watched him go, unable for the first time in three days to think of anything else to occupy his attention. What do we do now? he wondered. It's over. I wanted to change things for us, and instead I made everything so much worse.
Prove you didn't want this! Kestrelflight's plea rang in his ears.
And Harespring had failed, hadn't he?
Boulderfur lay cold in the ground when Kestrelflight returned, supporting the heavily injured Heathertail. Her smoke-blue gaze was empty, and Harespring felt the glimmer of recognition somewhere deep in his chest.
"Congratulations," was all Heathertail said, though Harespring barely registered it. He couldn't look away from Kestrelflight, though he had no idea what he could say. It's over, he thought again. We're over. I've ruined everything, and it's over. Sunstrike's entreatment to him as she lay dying echoed in his ears. I can't be happy.
"We should talk." Kestrelflight's tone was perfectly level, but it still drove a thorn right through Harespring's heart. About what? He doesn't… would he… Harespring stared at him, then finally dipped his head, then turned to Heathertail.
"Heathertail, your father wants to speak with you."
Heathertail looked for all the world like she'd rather walk out of camp and never come back, but she only nodded and brushed past them. Kestrelflight and Harespring were alone.
"Let's go somewhere else," Kestrelflight said.
What does he want from me? But his friend's—his—Kestrelflight's gaze was as unfamiliar to him as ShadowClan territory. Harespring followed him out of camp and they walked together over the moor until they reached the edge of the lake. It was twilight, the kind of leaf-fall twilight that swathed the world in dusky blues and purple. At last, in the fading light of the sun, Kestrelflight turned to him.
"You're the deputy."
Harespring blinked slowly. "Yes." What?
Kestrelflight let out a long, shaking breath, then said, "Oh, Harespring, what are we going to do?" His voice was so softly sad that Harespring couldn't stop himself from pressing his body to Kestrelflight's. He didn't pull away.
"I'm sorry," Harespring said. He knew it was true; he was sorrier than he'd ever known was possible. He wanted to tear open his past and weed out every bad decision, every mistake and every bit of harm he'd caused not only Kestrelflight, but his whole Clan.
"I know."
They stayed at the water's edge, silent, until there was no light left and the world was gray and dark. "Kestrelflight, I…"
"Harespring." Warning and misery warred in the tom's voice.
"I know it's over, and I know I can't—I know that—I'm just so sorry. I wish everything was different and I wish…" Harespring swallowed hard, pressing back down the truth that threatened to emerge. "I'm sorry."
Kestrelflight shook his head and huffed a short laugh. "I wanted to tell you that it was over, and that I can't—that I have to—well… I guess you know."
He did know. Harespring closed his eyes. "Yeah. I'm sorry for what I said during the battle, I don't—" But what he wanted to say would be a lie, and Harespring didn't want to lie to him. Not to Kestrelflight. So instead, he said, "I know you need to choose WindClan."
Kestrelflight nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.
I would choose you. Harespring swallowed again, the back of his throat feeling full of things he knew couldn't say. I love you for it. "Okay. Deputy and medicine cat, then?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry for what happened to Boulderfur." It felt like an absurdly juvenile sentiment to try to capture the unadulterated, senseless loss of a cat so young, but Harespring had never been clever enough to bend language to his will. And not strong enough to protect Boulderfur from getting hurt in the first place.
"Yes."
"Alright," he repeated, and looked out at the lake to make sure Kestrelflight didn't read anything he was concealing in his gaze should their eyes meet. "I should go."
"Goodbye, Harespring."
And for a heartbeat, it was as though they were holding vigil for something that had never existed in the first place. Harespring was grateful at least, that he had never known how it was to truly love Kestrelflight and be loved in return, or he was certain his heart would shatter. Still, as he left Kestrelflight's side, a feeling of great compression, crushing his heart and stealing his breath, began in his chest.
He padded away, and when he was certain Kestrelflight was out of earshot, he let himself whimper softly. Why does it hurt so much? It's over. It never even began. You just fell in love with the wrong tom, and he made the right choice when you couldn't, and now it's laid to rest. He lifted his eyes to the moon, to the too-bright stars, and thought bitterly, And now I get to be the deputy of a Clan that knows me as a traitor and live out my days alone. I guess that's what I deserve.
Sleep didn't come that night. He rose from the ranks of sleeping Clanmates and made his way to the edge of camp, dipping his head to Larkwing on guard. He felt a prick of gratitude that there was at least one cat with whom he could share the horrors of the Dark Forest. Breezepelt had still not returned, and Harespring had begun to think that he never would. Antpelt was long dead. And Sunstrike was…
Harespring made his way to their graves.
As he sat in the dip of land, memory after memory washed over him. Tornear's faith in his apprentice—his patience, and his encouragement even as Harespring had been desperate to give up. How easily Harespring had written off his real mentor when Shredtail had offered him a shortcut paved in blood and brutality. Shame seared his throat. I'm sorry, Tornear, he told his mentor. I'm sorry for not believing in you when you believed in me.
He touched his nose to the earth, then shifted his eyes to the next grave. I'm sorry, Sunstrike. I'm sorry I couldn't love you, I'm sorry I didn't protect you, and I'm sorry I can't be happy now. You deserved so much more.
I'm sorry, Ashfoot; I'm sorry that I'm not doing your legacy justice and I'm sorry that I took the position your son deserved. I'm sorry, Webfoot, I'm sorry, Thistleheart, and I'm so, so sorry to all of you for ever trusting those monsters over my own Clanmates. He curled up next to them, floating in a haze of grief and guilt and anger with himself, and finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
Don't Stay / Don't Leave
"What's the problem with you and Kestrelflight?" Onestar asked over fresh-kill one evening. Harespring had taken to eating with Onestar and Whitetail, or occasionally Larkwing. The other option was alone, and Harespring knew it would look terrible to be deputy and to be eating in solitude.
"What do you mean?" he asked, avoiding his leader's penetrating stare. "There's not a problem with us."
Onestar made a doubtful noise. "You rarely speak to each other."
Harespring shrugged, trying to ignore the tight feeling in his throat. "We're just not that close, I guess."
"Well, I don't care," Onestar eventually said. "But I expect you to be cordial with one another."
Harespring twitched his whiskers in acknowledgement, and finished his portion of the rabbit they were sharing.
"What about you and Larkwing?" The older tom's voice lightened. "Should we expect the patter of kit paws in the nursery, say… in a few moons?"
He nearly choked, then cleared his throat fiercely and replied, "No, I don't think so. We're just friends."
Onestar shot Whitetail a knowing look, and she replied with a purr. Even though the suggestion made Harespring's ears hot with embarrassment, he figured it was better than Onestar suspecting anything else about his deputy. Still, she's so young! I remember when she was a new apprentice. He shook his head. Definitely not.
"I was going to give you Slightkit to mentor," Onestar commented as he buried the rabbit's bones. "Are you up for it?"
"Of course," Harespring said, because there wasn't really another answer he could give. Onestar seemed to enjoy posing questions that only allowed one right answer. Still, Slightkit was a bright little tom, and Harespring knew it would be a welcome distraction now that he'd adjusted to deputyship. If nothing else, it would fill his days with something other than avoiding Kestrelflight and doing the same repetitive duties.
The ceremony was performed the next day, and Harespring's heart sank when he realized Slightpaw's denmates, Featherpaw and Hootpaw, were being apprenticed to Crowfeather and Nightcloud respectively. The senior tom had made no secret of his dislike of Harespring. Still, Harespring made an effort; if he could get into Crowfeather's good graces, perhaps the Clan would warm up to him and each day would be a little more bearable.
WindClan was taxed with more troubles moons after the Great Battle, as more apprentices that had no paw in the battle were named warriors, more kits were born in a world that hadn't known bloodshed in many sunrises. Harespring poured himself into training Slightpaw, into showing the tom the worth of hard work and perseverance.
These troubles made themselves known one inconspicuous day. Harespring led a patrol, out on the moor when they saw the flash of white in the tunnels. For a moment, Harespring choked back a thousand memories of eyes with nothing behind them and the brutal strength of something beyond mortality. He cannot hurt my Clan. He cannot hurt Larkwing, he cannot hurt Kestrelflight, he cannot hurt Slightpaw, was the mantra he kept in mind as he breathed, "A ghost."
Hootpaw's fur bushed out as he stared at the deputy. Crowfeather shot him a sharp look and Harespring fished for a convincing lie.
"Smoky from the horseplace told me once that kittypets sometimes came back after they died, all shining white, to visit their Twolegs. He said he'd seen ghosts with his own eyes," he explained, shaking out his pelt and trying to clear the memory of the ghost he'd killed.
And Crowfeather scoffed, made some pointed remark that said clearly enough that he thought Harespring had fluff in his brain and wasn't fit to be deputy. Harespring was relieved by it, though. His scorn was preferable to any suspicions that might hit closer to the deputy's true history.
They returned to camp and Harespring shut his eyes against the onslaught of memories of Maggottail writhing beneath him, of him pinning Larkpaw, and of the piercing chill that swept through him as Maggottail stood across from him in the Dark Forest.
Harespring brought the news to Onestar, hoping the apprentices' eagerness and wild tales would conceal the shadows that might have crept into his own gaze. Sure enough, Onestar was quick to dismiss Harespring's repeated tale of Smoky and ghosts, and began planning their future moves. When he had finished, to Harespring's surprise, he dismissed all of them except Crowfeather. Harespring shot a glance at the older warrior, then quickly left them. What does he want with Crowfeather? Does he regret naming me deputy, if he's consulting Crowfeather?
Despite his own initial reluctance, Harespring couldn't deny he'd grown acclimated to the position. Organizing the Clan and training Slightpaw had taken the edge off the sorrow that lingered under the surface of his consciousness. It was easy to forget Sunstrike's murmured words and Kestrelflight's wounded gaze when he was too tired to think of anything beyond his next pawstep and his next bite of fresh-kill. It grounded him in a way nothing else would.
Soon enough, the threat was revealed as odd-coloured stoats, and the pale demon that had been awoken in Harespring's dreams faded into the shade once more. The stoats were less easily dealt with. Every patrol that Onestar sent out returned with welling cuts and limping warriors. Harespring ignored Kestrelflight's vision of the wind pressing back the water and all its implications, and instead threw himself into battle with the stoats.
Though he hated himself for the ferocity the Dark Forest had taught him, he knew it saved him from many potentially grievous injuries. Many of his Clanmates weren't as lucky, and Harespring avoided Kestrelflight's gaze through it all. The battle was what Onestar had ordered. He'd had no choice in the matter. Soon enough, Kestrelflight's pleading looks turned to someone else, and Harespring wasn't sure if he was relieved or nonsensically jealous.
Harespring saw Kestrelflight's influence—his compassion, his bravery, his willingness to go beyond borders for what he believed was right—when Crowfeather spoke up in the middle of the Clan, telling Onestar they should go to ThunderClan for help. Doubts clawed Harespring. Should I have been the one speaking up?
But Onestar cut him down, and Harespring was relieved to have a real excuse to lower his eyes and stay out of it.
He was less relieved when ThunderClan turned up in their camp, insisting they be involved in fighting back the stoats. Harespring held steady at Onestar's side as his leader spat at them to leave. He met Crowfeather's roiling blue gaze and wondered if the warrior had had a paw in this. Bramblestar wouldn't be so bold as to stroll into their camp with no guarantee of a sympathetic ear, surely. Harespring watched his retreating back, his broad shoulders and thick tabby fur, and shivered.
Wouldn't he?
Still, he was gone now. WindClan would deal with this alone; Kestrelflight's vision had suggested that wind would be what drove back the water. Onestar turned on Crowfeather, hissing about future punishments for stepping out of line, and Harespring's heart sank. Crowfeather was the one to ask Bramblestar for help, then. He was certain of it. That was the brave thing to do, wasn't it? Well, it's certain Onestar won't be replacing me with him, then.
But that wasn't the end of it. The moment Onestar was finished with Crowfeather, the dark-furred warrior sought out Harespring.
"Look, Harespring, you're Onestar's deputy," Crowfeather growled, padding up to him at the edge of the camp. "Can't you make him see sense? Can't you tell him that we'll never get rid of the stoats if we don't have ThunderClan's help?"
Harespring flinched. Speak out against Onestar…? He looked over Crowfeather's shoulder and saw a white tail-tip disappear into Kestrelflight's den. "I can't do that. I'm loyal to Onestar. It's my duty to see that my Clan leader's orders are carried out."
Crowfeather bit off a growl and for a moment Harespring wondered if the tom was going to jump on him with claws unsheathed. Then he softened suddenly and shook his head. "Just think about what I've said."
Harespring's pelt prickled with unease. I can't. More and more, it was becoming clear to him that Onestar had appointed him deputy because he was a young, inexperienced warrior that would fall in line with whatever his leader ordered. Onestar expected him to toe the line, to be afraid that both Onestar's forgiveness, and the respect he was afforded as deputy, would be revoked if he stepped wrong. And Harespring didn't have the strength to try to contest him.
"There's no need to think," he told Crowfeather, feeling his voice weighed with all he couldn't say. Crowfeather was looking for an excuse to hate him, he knew, and telling the senior warrior that he was afraid to challenge Onestar would seal it. The only other option was to project blind loyalty. "Onestar has got this. I told you, everything will be all right." And he hurried away before the truth escaped.
Crowfeather seemed stiff and angry every time Harespring saw him after that. He began training Slightpaw alone just to avoid the warrior. Worse yet, he didn't have much of an excuse at all for not standing up to Onestar about the stoats. It was his own cowardice driving his actions. I guess I'm right back to being a mouse-heart. Well, good. He hated what the Dark Forest had turned him into; the tom that Kestrelflight had seen during the battle in his den, the tom that his Clanmates saw when they watched him stalk around the camp.
Even after the stoats were gone and dealt with, even after Crowfeather seemed to adjust to the idea that Harespring wasn't going anywhere fast, Harespring couldn't banish the lingering feeling of wrong in his stomach. He was a mouse-heart again. Better than a traitor, perhaps, but it was a bad time for WindClan's deputy to be a mouse-heart. Onestar grew more paranoid every day, further isolating WindClan from the others.
Harespring had just returned to camp when he heard Onestar snarl, "You will not gather herbs on my land."
The ShadowClan sickness? he wondered, pricking his ears as he padded into the camp. Does Puddleshine think WindClan has a cure? Kestrelflight wouldn't have kept it from them, though.
Sure enough, Kestrelflight pushed through the crowd and squared his shoulders. "Surely Puddleshine can gather herbs? The Clans have always allowed medicine cats to gather herbs when lives are at stake."
Onestar turned on him with the kind of ferocious anger that Harespring had rarely seen before from his leader. "No!"
Kestrelflight shrank back. The ShadowClan cats were banished from the camp, and that feeling of wrong surged back up inside Harespring. His silence was leaden on his tongue. But Kestrelflight just turned, his tail flat on the ground, and slunk back into his den. That he had not even thought to appeal to Harespring made the deputy's heart twist, even though he knew what his answer would have to be. Onestar was looking for any excuse, these days.
I can't say anything, he thought. I can't speak out against my leader.
I can't question what he tells me.
That was the thought that stopped him in his tracks. He watched Onestar retreat into his den, his brown tabby pelt darkening in the shadow. Another memory clawed its way up from his subconscious and Harespring closed his eyes, willing it away.
But I truly can't, this time. The leader's word is law.
ShadowClan was dying, and Harespring steeled himself into ignoring it. Every night, when sleep was just beyond reach, the same train of thoughts ran laps in his mind. I can't question him. It doesn't matter how many cats die. I'll jeopardize myself. I have to go along with this. It's the only way.
It was horrible, and horribly familiar.
Moons later, he would wonder how differently things would have gone if he hadn't gone down to the valley where Sunstrike and Tornear were buried that day. As it was, it was too late to turn around and pretend he had been headed another direction when he finally scented Kestrelflight near him.
"Harespring?" The medicine cat was sitting, looking down at something away from Harespring, but when the deputy's scent rolled over him, Kestrelflight stood and turned.
Harespring faltered, then rolled his shoulders and padded over to the tom. Medicine cat and deputy, he told himself. Medicine cat and deputy. "What are you looking at?"
Kestrelflight flicked his tail to the patch of flowers in front of them. Thick bunches of leaves, palely dotted like they were sprinkled in dew, and little purple flowers grew in clumps. Harespring breathed in the scent.
"Lungwort," Kestrelflight rasped. "We have enough for all of ShadowClan. What's left of ShadowClan, anyway."
Guilt swarmed Harespring's pelt. "It's terrible," he agreed.
Kestrelflight's green eyes were as sharp as broken ice. "Then tell Onestar that ShadowClan needs the herb."
"He knows," Harespring breathed, shutting his eyes tightly. "That's why he's keeping it from them. To punish them for Furzepelt's death."
Kestrelflight lashed his tail. "But it's wrong! You have to say something, Harespring."
Harespring swallowed and kept his gaze far from Kestrelflight's. "I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
The scent of the lungwort was overwhelming. They had so much of it, but… the confronting Onestar directly was unthinkable. Mouse-heart, he thought to himself. Mouse-heart, mouse-heart, mouse-heart.
Don't Stay / Don't Leave
The half-moon came upon them suddenly. Harespring had tried to the count the days, his newly-formed plan writhing in his stomach every time he saw Onestar or Kestrelflight, yet still managed to be taken by surprise when Onestar left his den to tell him to arrange a warrior escort for Kestrelflight.
"I'll do it myself," he told his leader the moment he had recovered his bearings.
Onestar looked faintly surprised. "Oh? Have you and Kestrelflight put your quarrels behind you?"
Harespring flattened his ears. He had never been a good liar, but StarClan willing, he wouldn't have to hide his plan much longer. "We're friends."
Onestar shrugged. Harespring thanked StarClan that Onestar wasn't in one of his testier moods, or Harespring might have been making the journey to the Moonpool with one clawed ear.
The sun was just setting as they left, the tips of the grass burning orange, then vermilion, as they made their journey. Kestrelflight was stonily silent, though Harespring felt light as a bird, knowing the time to share his idea with Kestrelflight had come at last.
The moment they crossed the border onto the edge of ThunderClan territory, he began speaking. "Kestrelflight, I have a plan."
Kestrelflight opened his jaws immediately as if he had a scheduled answer for any small talk Harespring tried to make, but paused when the meaning of the words caught up with him. "A plan?"
"To get ShadowClan the lungwort," Harespring breathed, keeping his eyes on the path ahead.
"What? But you said…"
"I'm not going to talk to Onestar. We're going to go behind his back, tonight."
Kestrelflight stopped in his tracks. When Harespring turned back, Kestrelflight's eyes were round and reflecting the rising moon. "You want to bring Puddleshine to the valley tonight?"
"After the meeting," Harespring filled in. He felt a little embarrassed that Kestrelflight had caught on so quickly. It wasn't particularly sophisticated.
Kestrelflight was silent for a moment and Harespring tried to read his expression in the gloom. Then Kestrelflight said, "If Onestar finds out, he'll be livid." It was his way out, but he didn't take it.
"I know."
"Why are you doing this?"
Is he trying to talk me out of this? There were many answers to Kestrelflight's question, but Harespring chose the one least likely to provoke a painful conversation. "Because it's the right thing to do." It's a mouse-hearted choice, really, but it's better than doing nothing at all. He tore his eyes away from Kestrelflight's and fixed them on the moon as it peeked out from behind the trees. Questioning your leader, at least sometimes, when you think they're making the wrong choice… That has to be the right thing to do. How can a deputy follow them into cruelty with a good conscience? Obeying without thinking… that's how I got myself into this mess in the first place.
"I'll ask StarClan," Kestrelflight offered when the silence lagged. "Just… to make sure this is their will."
A little bitterness flickered in Harespring. Not at Kestrelflight; that was, after all, the medicine cat choice to make. Instead, the possibility of 'StarClan says no' made his hackles raise. Why would they get involved now?
Just as they reached the apex of ThunderClan territory and came to the brim of the deep stone hollow that concealed the Moonpool, Kestrelflight turned to him. The glitter of his eyes in the starlight made Harespring's heart thrum.
"Thank you, Harespring," Kestrelflight murmured.
The heartbeat before the medicine cat went down to the water's edge stretched tightly between them, and Harespring opened his jaws, desperate to let out the other answer. I'm doing this because I love you. Then his chance was gone, and Kestrelflight jumped down onto the path that would bring him to the Moonpool. Harespring let out a long breath, then whispered, "Be careful!"
Kestrelflight flicked his ear and joined the medicine cats. Harespring watched them for a moment, then decided it felt too much like intruding and curled up on the stone. It leached the warmth from his body, but he was grateful; too much heat raged beneath his pelt for this sacred place.
I'm sorry, StarClan, he thought, closing his eyes. I'm sorry that I listened to Shredtail and I'm sorry that I can't stop loving Kestrelflight. But he's yours, and he's making the right choice by staying away from me. Give him the strength to hold true to his word.
He was awoken from his dreamless doze by Kestrelflight's jubilant cry.
"Harespring! It's okay. StarClan says it's okay!"
Then ShadowClan is saved.
He and Kestrelflight led the medicine cats, shoulder to shoulder, across ThunderClan territory, down to the stream, over it, and then deep into the heart of WindClan. When the other medicine cats understood what was happening, they fell silent as well and the only sound was the thrumming of their paws over the night's land.
Harespring knew it was a stupid, shallow thought, but running at the head of a patrol of medicine cats, all with little battle training, finally making a stand for what was right even if it was behind his leader's back… for a heartbeat, he felt like one of those brave toms in the elders' tales. Like he was Talltail, pinning an eagle, he was Firestar, stopping a war, he was Harespring—
He kept his eyes ahead. Affording a glance at Kestrelflight now might let too much slip.
Still, he stood at the edge of the group as Puddleshine began to gather the lungwort. Then one by one, the other medicine cats stepped forward to help the ShadowClan medicine cat. A feeling of clarity swept over Harespring, so certain and powerful that his eyes stung.
He watched Leafpool, who had helped train the nervous ShadowClan tom, biting through the stalks side by side with him. Jayfeather and Alderpaw stacked it, Jayfeather silently correcting the young tom's movements with his own deft skill. Willowshine and Mothwing flattened the flowers to slot them into place with the stems, while Kestrelflight laid each bundle across a long stalk of grass and bound them.
Soon enough, Puddleshine had enough parcels of lungwort for two ShadowClans. The other medicine cats picked up the extra to help him carry it, wordlessly agreeing help him until the herb was securely in ShadowClan's medicine den.
Harespring watched them, this odd collection of cats bound by the code to cross borders and to unconditionally help, and wondered how many warriors got to witness this. This is what being a medicine cat is about, he thought as he escorted them to ShadowClan. Even as a warrior crossing a border, none of them spoke up. Leafpool shot him a warm glance. Puddleshine looked so relieved that Harespring half-expected him to burst into tears. This is why.
He waited outside the moonlit ShadowClan camp as the group of medicine cats filed into Puddleshine's den. The scent of sickness was thick on the air, and in an instant, Harespring was certain he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if he hadn't done anything at all. Mothwing and Willowshine were the first to leave them, returning to their territory the opposite direction as the ThunderClan medicine cats and Kestrelflight and Harespring.
When they reached the ThunderClan border, Leafpool helped Alderpaw get a better grip on the parcel of lungwort that Kestrelflight had insisted they take. Jayfeather murmured something to Kestrelflight, then fixed his sightless blue eyes on Harespring. Harespring's pelt prickled and he wondered if he should say something to the grouchy medicine cat. Then Jayfeather gave him a small nod and set out with his denmates toward ThunderClan camp.
"Hm, Jayfeather's approval." Kestrelflight's tone was lighter and more carefree than Harespring had heard it in a long time. "I've known him since I was an apprentice and he's never given me so much as a mousetail."
Harespring snorted. "Did you see the way he looked at me when you told them to take the extra lungwort? Like if I told them they couldn't have it, he'd claw me. I wouldn't have, but…"
"I know you wouldn't have," Kestrelflight breathed, and Harespring found he couldn't look away. They had stopped by the WindClan border. "You did a very brave thing tonight."
"No, the brave thing would have been to challenge Onestar directly," Harespring said, feeling his pelt get hot.
Kestrelflight's eyes were clear. "Maybe. But I know that many cats are going to have another day because of you, and I think that's worth something. The grand act of bravery… it doesn't…" Kestrelflight shook his head. "I just know that at least the others aren't going to forget what you did tonight."
The others… Harespring clamped down tightly on the hope that unfurled in his chest. And you? No, Harespring. You did this for ShadowClan, and for Puddleshine. Still, when they returned to the WindClan camp, Harespring stood silently at the camp's entrance for another few moments as he watched Kestrelflight return the herbs to his den, then settle down under the stars. A heartbeat after Kestrelflight had stilled, Harespring moved to about a tail-length away and curled up as well.
Onestar was indeed livid.
The truth came out at a Gathering when Rowanstar got into a heated exchange with Harespring's leader.
Onestar seemed to have no concept of 'too far.' "You recovered, didn't you? You never really needed it!" The callousness of Onestar's words took Harespring's breath away.
"We only recovered because Harespring and Kestrelflight have far more compassion than you! They gave us the herb!"
Rowanstar's words provoked a flurry of whispers. Kestrelflight stood with the medicine cats a fox-length away from Harespring's place with the deputies, and they immediately locked eyes.
"Is this true?" And then the full force of Onestar's glare was fixed on him.
Kestrelflight shrank back, his fearful look moving from Harespring to his leader. Something burned in Harespring to see him like that. He looked up at Onestar, feeling the strangest courage steady his voice, and answered, "I could not let a Clan die."
Despite the anxiety that twisted his gut, he felt no uncertainty as he met Onestar's blazing stare. ShadowClan was dying, and I did what I could, no matter how mouse-hearted. Now I just have to weather whatever punishment Onestar sees fit to give me.
Kestrelflight padded forward to stand at his shoulder, in spite of how the medicine cat's whiskers quivered. "I consulted StarClan," he mewed. "They told me that it was the right thing to do."
Harespring was relieved this time that Kestrelflight had thought to do so; and indeed, it seemed to pacify Onestar, or at least redirect his anger. His leader's fiery gaze turned back to Rowanstar, and Harespring turned before Kestrelflight could retreat back to the medicine cat circle.
Kestrelflight gave him a firm nod, then withdrew. A wave of relief lapped at Harespring's paws and it took him a moment to identify the source. We're on the same side again, he realized. And this time, it's the right one. He watched Kestrelflight for another heartbeat. I'll keep fighting my mouse-hearted battles, as long as it's by his side. As friends.
That vow grew hard to hold as Onestar's orders grew more severe, his presence within the Clan even less consistent. Some days he expected Harespring to sort out everything on his behalf. Some days he snapped at him to remember who WindClan's leader was.
Still, Harespring and Kestrelflight were on good terms, and that was all that mattered when the sun went down and Harespring was trying to fall asleep.
As the Kin gained power, expanding to take RiverClan cats prisoners, Harespring found himself unsure in a different way. He was sure Onestar was doing the wrong thing by tightening his own control over WindClan, but what was the right thing to do? They had too many rogues to be overthrown by one WindClan battle patrol, but perhaps if WindClan hadn't retreated in the first battle… Still, he couldn't dwell on the past. WindClan needed strong leadership now, and an answer for the troubles that all the Clans were facing. Harespring just wasn't sure what that answer was.
Onestar put off any action until it was too late. Again, the wrong choice. Harespring had a new feeling, however; a feeling that if he was one day the tom in charge, he would have to forge a new path for WindClan.
There was little time to dwell on that. The Kin descended on them before dawn, while most were still asleep in their nests.
Harespring fought his way through the writhing mass of teeth and fur, planting himself in front of the medicine den and driving off any rogue that dared get too close. Still, most of the Kin's efforts seemed focused on Onestar, who writhed and snapped like a tom possessed.
A battle cry split the air as another patrol arrived in camp, fresh scents drowning out the blood spilled on the moor. But I didn't even get a chance to send out the dawn patrol! Harespring thought. Not more rogues, surely! Then he spotted his leader. No!
He ripped free of the tabby clawing his back and shot at Darktail as the rogue tried to pin Onestar. Just as he reached them, a spiky-furred brown tom thrust between them and swiped at Harespring. Harespring ducked back in time to clear the way for an unfamiliar, massive gray tom to leap forward. The stranger bowled the rogue over, lashing his claws across his face.
When that proved enough to send the rogue fleeing, the gray tom gave Harespring a brusque nod.
"Thanks!" Harespring gasped, then yelped as he was knocked to the ground by a white she-cat.
A new, familiar scent flooded Harespring's mouth as a hulking tabby tore the she-cat away from Harespring. He didn't question it as he battered her stomach, taking the opportunity Tigerheart of ShadowClan had created by pulling her off balance by the scruff. Without signalling to each other, they found a good rhythm of Tigerheart hauling her backward before she got her footing and Harespring aiming lightning-quick blows at her face and chest.
She yowled at the onslaught, then finally pulled free and ran. Harespring took a heavy breath, eyeing Tigerheart. Why is he here? He knew Rowanstar's son had grown accustomed to carrying out his father's business. Is he leading the battle patrol? Tigerheart returned to stare with unreadable amber eyes, and for a heartbeat, Harespring felt like he was right back in the Dark Forest with his not-Clanmates. Their synchronism was no accident.
"Stop!"
The call rang out over the fighting cats. He froze to turn and see Darktail standing in the centre of WindClan camp, his white pelt stained red and his eyes blazing. Harespring tore his gaze away from Tigerheart.
Onestar was still spitting with fury, circling Darktail, and the rogue leader turned a cold eye on the older tom.
"You mouse-hearted excuse for a cat! Is that the best you can do? A kittypet fights better!" Darktail's lips drew back in a chilling smile. "But then… you always were a coward."
Onestar spat again. Harespring stared at his leader, trying to piece the loaded statement together.
"Darktail," Harespring rasped, feeling the eerie calm of the sudden pause in combat flatten his voice. "You're talking like… like you know Onestar. How can that be?"
Onestar and Darktail traded insults once more. Harespring stared between them, unable to parse the strange tension that simmered in the air. They looked frighteningly similar to him; two leaders blinded by their own end goals and paranoia, stiff-legged and furious. There even seemed to be something akin in the edge of their voices, the curve of their shoulders.
Finally, Darktail left, promising that WindClan would pay. Harespring could only watch, and wait for Onestar's explanation.
He sent out the patrols as normal, waiting for the other leaders' arrival, and tried to cling to normalcy as long as he could. It felt like the end of an era in some unnameable way.
As Onestar recounted his tale, and Smoke's, Harespring sat very still. He had long ago outgrown his apprentice-hood ideals of Onestar as an untouchable cat of the stars, but… this. This was a lot to take in, even so.
He held his peace even as the other leaders spoke incredulously, Squirrelflight adding a contemptuous comment, even Kestrelflight assuring him he wouldn't be condemned to the Dark Forest for his failure as a father.
No, Harespring thought. That's true. He knew the sorts of cats that ended up in the Dark Forest, and Onestar wouldn't last a day. Or perhaps he would. I did.
He finally spoke, after Onestar agreed to join the other Clans in fighting the Kin.
"You did the right thing," he said quietly to his leader as the camp cleared. Onestar listened without comment, and Harespring, dipping his head, went on. "I think… I think I might understand some of what you're feeling right now; like you've done something so wrong that you can never go back."
Onestar lowered his muzzle too.
"You don't have to go back, though. You can't; no cat can. Just do the right thing for your Clan moving forward, and they'll judge you for who you are now," Harespring said. He caught Crowfeather's eye from across the camp. Then he looked back at his leader, a little worried that he'd overstepped. The tom's fur was flat, though.
"You're wiser than I was, at that age," Onestar commented, then huffed. "I suppose every cat knows just how foolish I was, now. But when Tallstar named me deputy…" He shook his head. "I was very afraid. Don't be afraid, Harespring. Trust yourself, trust your deputy, and trust Kestrelflight. I know you and he…" He paused and tilted his head to his deputy, but Harespring didn't explain. "You've had your troubles. But he's a brilliant medicine cat, and a truly kind, compassionate tom."
I know, Harespring thought. That's the problem. Then he blinked. "Onestar, you're talking as if you're going to die. I'm not going to be WindClan's next leader."
Onestar huffed another laugh. "Yes, you are. I'm on my last life, Harespring, and I'm going to lose it in this battle. But it's alright; this is what's meant to be. I'm going to do the right thing for my Clan, like you said, and that means sacrifice."
Harespring found he had nothing to tell his leader, seeing the flame of certainty in the depths of his eyes. He just dipped his head. "It's been an honour to serve as your deputy."
"You'll be alright," Onestar said.
And just as he'd predicted, when the battle came and went, Harespring returned to camp alone at the head of his patrol.
Kestrelflight brought up the rear, supporting Nightcloud. She was the worst injured, but none were dead except for Onestar. Harespring breathed out a long sigh, then looked up at the sky. It was twilight, and the stars had begun to come out. Dusky blue and purple. The more things change, the more things stay the same.
He didn't have long before he would need to name his deputy, but that wasn't worrying him. He knew his choice.
"I can't believe he's really gone," Crowfeather murmured, coming up to his shoulder.
Harespring hummed. "Mm. He was ready, though. We spoke before the battle and… I don't know, maybe leaders get a feeling about that."
Crowfeather nodded, then told him gruffly, "He was a good leader. And I'm sure you'll do a good job filling his pawprints."
"Currying for favour already?"
Crowfeather's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to defend himself, then narrowed his eyes again. "You're teasing, aren't you?"
"Just a little." Indeed, Harespring's paws felt lighter than they had in moons despite the burdens that had just fallen onto his shoulders. With the night falling and his Clan at his back, he felt that same certainty as he had when he and the medicine cats were gathering lungwort. This is where I'm meant to be. This is who I'm meant to be. "I'm planning to make you deputy, by the way."
"Thank you." Crowfeather dipped his head.
He expected it, Harespring thought, and smiled anyway. Good. He'll make a good deputy. At least the Clan already respects him.
Don't Stay / Don't Leave
The night of Harespring's leadership ceremony was remarkably quiet. The crickets paused their songs as the two toms passed, no swoop of wings overhead signalling an owl or hawk—the only sound was their pawsteps, their breaths, and their heartbeats.
Harespring raised his muzzle as he and Kestrelflight descended into the hollow of the Moonpool. The starlight was beautiful above, but as they reached the water…
It was dazzling.
Reverence filled Harespring as he beheld the starlit waters, solidifying that feeling of Here I am. He looked at Kestrelflight.
Kestrelflight gave him a reassuring smile, then brushed his pelt with Harespring's as he settled down at the shining water's edge. Harespring stood for another moment, watching Kestrelflight's dark form, traced in starlight. And even though he was about to experience something very few cats ever saw, something that would redefine his life forever, even though he was about to meet StarClan and about to take on the responsibility of an entire Clan…
He found himself wishing he could just curl up with Kestrelflight and forget all their troubles. You're leader now, Harespring. Not some mooning apprentice, he told himself. Sit down and get your nine lives, and then you and Kestrelflight will be leader and medicine cat.
With that, he lowered his muzzle and lapped up a mouthful of the ice-cold water. Even as the world faded around him and sleep took hold, he heard a soft voice somewhere deep inside whispering, I don't want that.
Then the dream washed over him.
He was standing in the valley, by the lungwort and Tornear and Sunstrike's graves. It was the same almost-twilight that it had been when they returned after Onestar's death—and the same as when Kestrelflight had urged him to confront Onestar over the lungwort.
This time, however, they weren't alone. Harespring kept silent as the stars slowly floated down from the sky, gaining lines between each one, shaping the forms of many starry cats.
He lowered his head in respect to the StarClan cats, some that he recognized and others he did not. Kestrelflight was at his side, he realized, feeling the barest brush of the tom by his shoulder. We are here. Neither of them had really moved; they had simply appeared side by side.
The first to step forward was a she-cat Harespring didn't recognize; stocky and brown-furred. Her gaze was warm and peaceful as she regarded him and her scent was intensely familiar. Something bloomed in his chest as she drew closer.
"Mother," Harespring whispered in realization.
"Harespring," Rabbitfur replied, resting her muzzle on his shoulder.
He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, and remembered his faintest memory of the warm, milky scent wreathing around him in the nursery. Because of how late in life she'd had him, she had been very weak after he was born, and had died before he was a moon old. Nightcloud, Runningbrook, and Whitetail had nursed him until he had been old enough to eat prey. He had grown up without much of a mother, and soon after that, no father either when Darkfoot passed away from green-cough.
"I'm so proud of you, son," Rabbitfur murmured.
Harespring felt a purr rumbling in his chest.
"I'm going to give you your first life," she told him, pulling back. "Be brave, my son. Are you ready?"
He nodded.
"This life is for gentleness."
As their noses met, Harespring felt a great trembling overtake his body. His limbs felt as weak as stalks of grass, his heart easily bruised flesh, and his spirit as uncertain as an unfed flame.
"Show your Clan grace, and they'll show you the same," his mother whispered as the tide swept over Harespring. "Remember that you are no different from them, even when they look to you for guidance."
Harespring concentrated on staying upright as the last of the life poured into him. Finally, his strength returned to his body and he straightened, letting out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Rabbitfur," he said.
Her yellow eyes glowed with warmth as she gave him a quick lick over the ear. "I wish I could have watched you grow up in WindClan, son, but you've made me so proud up here. Your father says the same."
Then she withdrew to stand within the starry rank as the next cat stepped forward. Harespring drew in a sharp breath, bracing himself. Eight more times? The first one had left him trembling like the last dead leaf on a branch.
"Just a moment," Kestrelflight told the next starry cat, and then lowered his head to Harespring's as his leader panted. "Are you alright?"
Harespring gulped and blinked away the film that stung his eyes. "Yes. Yes, let's keep going." For a moment, it felt as though he was right back in the medicine den, resting a wrenched shoulder with Kestrelpaw at his side. Eight more, he told himself, and raised his head.
Before him stood a very small tabby she-cat, her outline indistinct against the grass. Her green eyes were round, almost kit-like, and she looked up at him with a bit of wonder. "Harespring."
"Yes," he rasped. "Er, who are you?"
She smiled and cocked her head shyly. "I'm Mottlepaw."
Harespring froze.
She stretched up to her the tip of her toes and touched his muzzle. "This life is for patience."
Her presence alone had been enough to make him fall still, but as the life swept into him, his limbs locked up like they were carved of granite. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to regulate his breathing as he accepted her life. As soon as the feeling of immovable stone left, it was replaced with the peace of a placid lake.
"Take care of your Clan first before you seek revenge," Mottlepaw whispered. "Wrath will save no lives. Keep your kin and your Clanmates safe. Temper your rage."
And abruptly, it flooded back out of Harespring and he sagged, nearly buckling to the earth. Kestrelflight pressed his pelt against his and Harespring took a deep breath.
"Thank you, Mottlepaw," he breathed. "I hope you've found peace in StarClan."
She blinked at him, perfectly innocent. "Good luck."
He could feel Kestrelflight's questioning stare, but Harespring didn't feel the strength to do much more than dip his head to the fading apprentice as she scampered back into the group of StarClan cats.
"I can do it," he murmured to Kestrelflight. His medicine cat was silent for a heartbeat, then nodded.
"I know."
The next cat to step forward took Harespring by surprise. He was familiar, but certainly not a cat that Harespring would have guessed would be attending his ceremony.
"Dustpelt?" Harespring blinked. "You're dead?"
"I was disappointed when I found out too," Dustpelt answered dryly, then looked down at Harespring expectantly. Whatever he saw in Harespring's steady gaze, his squared shoulders, it must have satisfied him because he said, "Apparently you looked up to me as an apprentice, so here I am."
Harespring's ears felt hot at the secret being revealed. "I… yes. You were a fearsome warrior."
Dustpelt snorted, and gave him a wry look. "Hm. Alright. I have a life to give you. It's for courage."
Harespring braced himself, with good reason that time, because Dustpelt's life was like swallowing a wildfire. Every mouse-length of his body shook as vision after vision raged through him, of a gentle gray she-cat with green eyes, of kits to protect, of shadows attacking his family, and the answering fury that rose within him. The honour in serving his Clan shivered within his spirit, a reminder of why he did what he did, and… being the protector until StarClan saw fit to lay him to rest.
Harespring heaved a breath, his chest suddenly feeling tight, and couldn't speak when he met Dustpelt's steady gaze.
"You'll serve your Clan well, Harespring," Dustpelt assured him, his voice low and soft. "Not too well, though. Don't get into any trouble with ThunderClan, alright?"
Harespring tried to rasp a purr, though it came out as more of a wheeze. He nodded shakily to Dustpelt as the senior warrior padded back to his fellow StarClan cats. A small, apprentice-age brown tom with stars glittering in his fur immediately hurried over to Dustpelt's side, pressing his muzzle into his father's pelt.
He tried in vain to catch his breath before the next cat approached, choked up by feeling.
"Are you sure you don't need to take a break?" Kestrelflight whispered to him, still by his side. Somewhere in his untempered mind, he prayed that Kestrelflight would never leave.
"I can do it," he ground out, then gasped as he saw the next cat draw near. "Tornear!"
The old gray-and-white tom raised his chin proudly as he came to a halt in front of his former apprentice. "Congratulations, Harespring. I always knew you could do it."
He dipped his head. "Thank you for believing in me when I didn't believe in myself."
"This life is for endurance," Tornear told him, and rested his muzzle atop Harespring's head. "Hold tight to what you know is right and true, and you can weather any storm."
Harespring sucked in another shaking breath as his fourth life buffeted him. His pelt felt as hard and resilient as a turtle's shell, each wave breaking across him. He withstood it with gritted teeth. "Thank you, Tornear," he repeated once it had ebbed and he could speak again.
Tornear gave him a fond nudge. "You'll be alright."
The next cat that stepped forward Harespring hadn't seen in so long that he almost didn't recognize him. He was much younger in StarClan, his brown fur filled out and thicker than it had been in his old age.
"Barkface," Kestrelflight whispered from his side.
Barkface gave his old apprentice a warm look, then turned to Harespring. "Harespring, remember that no Clan cat is meant to live in solitude. StarClan's rules are meant to guide us to our most honourable, fulfilling, and loving lives, not to constrict and deny. StarClan is on your side."
What…? Harespring stared at him, shock racing through him at the conclusion he drew from the words. Is he assuring me that keeping a certain distance from Kestrelflight is the right thing, or… Barkface merely dipped his head, then stretched forward to touch Harespring's nose.
"This life is for faith," Barkface murmured. "Trust StarClan. We're all rooting for you, Harespring."
Harespring stilled as the life filled him. Wonder and reverence warmed him to the very ends of his fur, that same sense of clarity that he'd felt twice before tingling through his pelt. It's faith, he realized faintly. That I'm doing the right thing, and that I'm on the right path. As he gazed as Kestrelflight, by his side, he felt that flame glow all the more brightly. This is the right thing.
The next to step forward was a cat that Harespring had expected to see. Onestar stood proud and tall in StarClan, starlight glinting in his powerful, lean body.
"You're going to be a leader remembered for many moons," Onestar told him as he pressed his muzzle to Harespring's forehead. "This life is for wisdom. Listen to your elders and don't close yourself off from your Clan. Strength comes from being together."
Being together, Harespring's mind echoed. Onestar's life felt like a sunrise after guarding the camp all night; it was steady, slow, and promised a bright future. We've both made such mistakes, he thought, meeting his leader's gaze. But no cat can change the past. Now, all I can do is listen to my Clan and help them to the best of my abilities.
Onestar nodded, and withdrew. Harespring swallowed, and took a deep breath. Exhaustion dragged at his paws, but there were still three star-speckled forms waiting to gift him lives. I can do it, he told himself, trying to remember Tornear's assurance and the feeling of permanence he had imparted onto Harestar. Three more. When he turned to look at Kestrelflight, he believed it. The medicine cat nudged him, and Harespring turned back to greet the next cat.
The muscled gray she-cat that stood before him was another he had not seen in so long and had been changed by StarClan in such a way that he almost did not recognize her. The sharp intelligence in her yellow eyes brought her name back.
"Ashfoot." Harespring bowed his head to his predecessor. She would have made a formidable leader.
"Congratulations," she said briskly. "I have a life for you."
Harespring lifted his head once more to receive it, and Ashfoot pressed her muzzle to his forehead.
"This is for forgiveness," Ashfoot whispered. "If you try to punish yourself for every misstep, you will never be able to serve your Clan. Let go of that anger, and channel your strength into leading WindClan instead."
Weakness seeped into Harespring from the point of contact, and Harespring felt his legs collapse under him as internal muscles that had been locked up for years finally gave in. As the anger with himself for everything that had happened leading up to the Great Battle was at last washed away by Ashfoot's life, Harespring felt very suddenly hollow. He focused on breathing, filling his lungs with air and filling his chest with peace and compassion toward his own mistakes.
"WindClan needs you," Ashfoot murmured. "Take care of my son."
Then she retreated and an unfamiliar tom took her place. His lean, dark gray pelt and brown-flecked fur echoed Willowclaw and Leaftail's bodies. There was also a certain darkness in his yellow eyes that Harespring recognized, though not because it recalled that of his Clanmates.
"Harespring," the tom mewed, voice deep and rich. "I am Hawkheart, medicine cat of the WindClan before Tallstar."
Harespring's eyes widened, humbled to be in the presence of such a senior spirit. Still, there was something about him that Harespring couldn't quite understand, for a medicine cat.
"I led a difficult life," Hawkheart growled, then jerked forward to give his life to Harespring. "I was a warrior before I was a medicine cat and I believed that strength was violence and brutality."
The life battered him like a deluge as Hawkheart continued to speak, his deep voice intense. Harespring closed his eyes tightly.
"But this life is for a different kind of strength," Hawkheart whispered, then finally pulled back. "Mercy, healing, and service. They'll take all the strength you have, Harespring, but remember that it's the most honourable battle you can ever fight."
As Harespring felt the last of the life rip at him, testing every crevice of his body, looking for weaknesses, he looked deep into Hawkheart's eyes and saw something buried. He's killed a cat, he realized. Somewhere, somehow… he ended a life. His heart raged in his chest against the choking exhaustion of the eighth life.
Then he dipped his head to Hawkheart, and waited as he withdrew.
Finally, his last life was upon him.
"Sunstrike," he whispered.
She was radiant in the frosty light, the white dash on her forehead like a star unto itself. Then she smiled. "Harespring."
He couldn't meet her gaze for more than a moment, haging his head. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
"I wouldn't have asked that of you," she replied, drawing closer. He raised his head and felt his heart clench at the raw emotion that glimmered in her green eyes. "Do you know why I fell in love with you?"
He huffed a laugh. "No, I have no idea."
"Because you're good," she said simply, and then touched her nose to his forehead. "You have so much goodness inside you it's coming out your ears." Her purr rumbled through him. "I'm sad that you can't see it all the time, but I wanted to tell you. You're a good, kind tom, and I know that you've done your best to do the right thing, and to keep our Clan safe."
Harespring's eyes stung, and he bowed his head as the life began to trickle into him.
"This life is for joy, Harespring," she whispered. "You have the chance to be truly, truly happy now. Don't waste it. You've given so much of yourself to your Clan, and you deserve joy now. I guess I'm a little biased, but I really do believe it."
He chuckled, and then relaxed entirely as her life rippled into him. This one wasn't ferocious or painful or exhausting. It cascaded down the back of his head and settled into his belly, warm and golden as green-leaf sunshine. One by one, each of his limbs slackened until he felt as though he was floating in honey.
"You've got this," she told him. He remembered the same words from another life, in a place opposite to this one. This time, though, there was no quiver of doubt in her words. Her eyes shone as she stepped back.
"Thank you," he breathed.
Onestar stepped forward. "I hail you by your new name, Harestar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of WindClan."
Harestar raised his chin to look each of them in the eye. Finally, he looked at Kestrelflight and he felt the bond between them like it was a physical thing, lashing each pawstep together, binding their hearts to the other's. I wouldn't be here without him, he thought. Shredtail was right about that much. He's the reason.
"Harestar!" Sunstrike was the first to greet him.
Every StarClan cat in the valley added their voice to hers. Ashfoot gave him a sharp nod, Hawkheart bowed his head, and Tornear came right over to him to rest his muzzle on his old apprentice's shoulder. Dustpelt looked on proudly from next to his young son. Harestar accepted each greeting, speechless. The sky overhead had changed into the dead of night, and the stars seemed to shine brighter as the StarClan cats' calls washed over him.
"Thank you," he finally rasped. "Thank you all. I'll do my best to lead WindClan and make you all proud."
Then one by one, each spirit vanished, until Kestrelflight and Harestar were alone in the valley. Kestrelflight turned to him, green eyes glowing with starlight, and Harestar felt a sudden ache seize his heart. All these lives… this power, these burdens… Barkface's words echoed in his mind. StarClan doesn't seek to constrict and deny. But how can I live my most fulfilling, loving, honourable life without him?
The dream fell away around him.
They awoke curled around each other at the water's edge. Harestar stood quickly, but Kestrelflight was slower to get to his paws. There was a weight in his gaze that Harestar had never seen before. Responsibility, maybe. Or was that what pressed on Harestar's shoulders? I'm leader now. That means service to my Clan.
Kestrelflight gave him a long, long look.
And it means I have the power to change things.
"We need to talk," Kestrelflight said.
"Yes," Harestar replied quietly. "I think we do."
Just don't give up / I'm working it out / Please don't give in / I won't let you down / It messed me up, need a second to breathe / Just keep coming around / Hey, what do you want from me / What do you want from me?
Wow. It's done. Turning Tail took me about 24 hours of work and I am so, so, so grateful for the response I've gotten! Your reviews and feedback mean the world to me.
Anyway. Done but not forgotten, and I'm considering writing a 'coda' kind of part to both this and Catch and Release (from the perspectives of Kestrelflight and Minnowtail.)
And lastly, please leave me a review! If you've made it to the end, I love you.
~Akila