BEAUTIFUL

Swiftpaw eyes opened blearily. He felt so tired and so comfortable, lying on a bed of the softest feathers and fluff. He could hear cats talking in soft, comfortable voices. There was foggy movement, people moving about him. Where was he?

He sat up, suddenly confused, but the tired bleariness did not go away. What had happened? He tried to remember the battle. There'd been foxes, and he had to hold the clearing. Oh, he had to go back and do that. He stood up. He needed to go do that. Tawnyfoot hadn't yet relieved him of duty. He had to help his Clanmates.

"Lay back down, young one," said a gentle voice from beside him.

The foggy film was stripped from his eyes and not Swiftpaw could see clearly. A beautiful face looked in at him. The pure blue eyes were huge and shiny, the edge of the iris was black. The fur on her face was combed exquisitely, every hair in line. There were no mistakes, no scratches or bumps anywhere on her face.

Swiftpaw groaned and looked away. He knew how awful he must look, with the scars and scratches on his face from the battle, bits of fur missing here and there. His white fur was probably caked in blood. He did not want to appear like that to such a beautiful, perfect cat.

"Where am I?" He muttered.

The gorgeous calico in front of him blinked her perfect eyes and her face moved into a beautiful smile. "You're in StarClan, dear Swiftpaw. I was sent to retrieve you."

Oh damn, he thought, I'm dead.

"Why am I here?" He groaned.

"You perished in the fox fight," The calico said. "But do not worry. You will be welcome here. StarClan is the best place a cat can go. You will have everything you want, everything you need up here. You will have power. You will have friends. You will be beautiful. StarClan is perfect. You have come home, my young friend."

Swiftpaw looked around, trying to see where he was. The sky above him was pure blue, not a cloud in the sky. The ground was pale white, and the only thing on it for miles appeared to be him and his next made of tiny white feathers and soft fur, and the calico she-cat.

"My name is Airfeather," she said, "I've been here for three hundred and thirty two moons."

"Wow," He muttered as she backed away a little, so he could see her whole form. Every muscle, every fur was exactly in place, her paws lined up neatly, her tail held carefully an inch above the ground. The white fur on her underside was soft but did not get baggy at her stomach, instead it curved upward. Her two ears were clean and pointed at exactly the same angle.

"Soon you will be perfect too," Airfeather told him, "You just need to follow me to the StarClan camp."

She started to walk across the glowing white ground, Swiftpaw at her side. Airfeather moved with a grace and assurance that made Swiftpaw feel like a clumsy, boisterous kit next to her.

"How did you die?" He carefully asked her, not wanting to make her offended.

But Airfeather did not seem at all miffed. "I died of old age, in the elders den. I was many, many moons old and my time had come."

"You were an old cat?" Swiftpaw gasped. He looked her up and down again. She looked hardly older than twelve moons. "You look...very good for an old cat."

"Oh yes," Airfeather said, "When you are turned perfect, you look young again and will stay young forever. I will always look as beautiful as I do."

"StarClan seems pretty great," Swiftpaw muttered, anticipating all the pretty she-cats he was yet to meet.

"StarClan is better than the real world." Airfeather meowed, "But if we told the living that, they would all kill themselves to come here too soon. Life is important. It sets the stage for death. Cats must go through their assigned amount of life before coming to this beautiful haven we call StarClan."

"I was killed young," Swiftpaw noted, "Does that mean that you had only assigned eleven moons of my life?"

"Indeed, yes. The Deciding Comitee knew that you must join us at a young age. It is your destiny."

"My destiny," Swiftpaw echoed.

As they traveled on, shapes began to come into view. Swiftpaw looked ahead eagerly. He could see figures moving around.

Not long later, several cats ran out to meet him and Airfeather as they arrived. Swiftpaw struggled to hide his amazement at their beauty. The toms were as good looking as the she-cats, their limbs and flanks etched with muscles, the fur on their necks thick and soft, their ears tall and perfectly aligned, their noses clean, their eyes crystal clear and bright.

"We welcome you, Swiftpaw," They murmured in soft unison.

Two beautiful she-cats lay their tails on his back and guided him into their camp, through an entrance of gently weaving soft grass fronds. As Swiftpaw moved through them, soft feathers shook from them and onto his fur. He laughed in delight.

The camp inside was huge. It stretched as far as he could see, with beatiful trees, towered above, their long, sheltering boughs reaching down to brush the ground, scattering a few feathers. There were soft feather-grasses growing among the many nests of feather and fur covering the ground.

"This is all yours," Airfeather said, "Feel free to sip the sweet water in any creek or pond you may find, and eat the sweet mice that grow on the mouse bushes at the edge of camp. You may also eat the tasty berries that grow on the berry bushes. You can find them at the trunks of trees. Romp in the feathers, sleep anywhere you like. Mate with any she-cat that welcomes you, befriend any tom you wish. There are no rules here, Swiftpaw. You may do whatever you like."

"Wow," he whispered. Swiftpaw stared at the beautiful cats moving calmly through the feather grasses, their eyes peaceful and their ears relaxed. He saw others snoozing gracefully in the feather nests, their eyes closed in comfort. Others were eating with amazing elegance mice that looked better than anything that could be caught in the forest.

"When will I get turned beautiful?" Swiftpaw asked.

"As soon as I inform Starstar, our leader, of your arrival."

"Starstar? That's a funny name."

"He is the original StarClan cat, named after the stars. He is the most amazing cat to ever have lived."

"I'd like to meet him." Swiftpaw said.

"Maybe," Airfeather said, with a gorgeous smile.

"Can I ever see the living world again?" Swiftpaw asked. He wanted to make sure his Clan was okay. He didn't want his little sister in the nursery, Hollykit to miss him, or his mother and father. Was his mentor doing okay? Had the rest of the Clan survived the foxes? Had they driven them off?

"After you stay with us for five days, you may go into the living world and visit your Clan," Airfeather said, "As a StarClan cat. But, by then, I'll doubt you want to. The living world is an awful place compared to this one."

Swiftpaw flicked his ears, slightly upset at what she was saying. He had liked his life.

Airfeather walked off then to tell Starstar that Swiftpaw was here. While he waited, Swiftpaw tried to clean himself up a bit, so he didn't look like such a disaster compared to the beautiful StarClan warriors. He tried to lick the smudges of blood off his flanks but only made it worse. He picked the eyegunk from his eyes because he realized the StarClan cats had none, and licked his nose. But nothing he did could make himself as beautiful as these cats. His proportions were off, one ear flopped slightly. One eye was a little more closed than the other, and his left front paw twisted a bit to much to the left. And he had more whiskers on one side than the other.

A little while later, a beautiful black and white tom padded silently over to him on the feather-covered ground.

"We are ready for you to turn beautiful," the tom said, "Please follow me."

Swiftpaw followed him into the camp. His paws relished the feeling of padding on soft feathers, and his flank tingled at the grass fronds brushing it ever so gently. This wonderful feather world was so beautiful, so satisfying. He would be so happy here.

The black and white tom stopped not far into the gigantic camp, near a small pool of clear, silver water. A few lilac petals floated around on it. Swiftpaw carefully bent down and took a sip of it. The water was delicious, and instantly he wanted more. He bent down and lapped up mouthful after mouthful.

"Hello," Came a gentle tom's voice from behind him.

Swiftpaw jumped and water sprayed from his lips and into the pool, making it's still surface choppy. He flattened his ears in embarrassment and coughed.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be," Said the tom, a dark grey cat with mottled black on his rump. "I'm Mosstail, I'm in charge of turning newcomers beautiful."

"Is that what you're going to do to me?" Swiftpaw asked.

"Yes," Mosstail said, nodding, "But don't worry, it does not hurt a bit. There is no pain in StarClan."

"What do I need to do?" Swiftpaw asked.

"Lie down in this nest," Mosstail said, pointing at a large one that looked extra soft and full of tiny feathers. "I will give you a special fruit you must eat entirely. You will fall asleep, and when you wake up you will be beautiful."

"Ok," Swiftpaw said. Normally, he would be nervous, but there was something comforting about the way this cat spoke. It was something all the cats had in this StarClan place, they all gave him comfort.

Swiftpaw lay down in the nest and curled up. It was so soft and comfortable he already began to feel sleepy. Mosstail pushed a bright red and orange fruit toward his nose.

"Eat, my friend," Mosstail said.

Swiftpaw took a bite and the sweet tang filled his mouth. He smiled at the delicious flavor and took another bite. Soon he had eaten it all, and he licked his lips and rested his head on the nest.

Mosstail swatted a pod full of feathers with his tail and hundreds, thousands of tiny pink, purple and white feathers floated down on Swiftpaw. He smiled as the covered his white pelt. Then he faded into unconsciousness.