Yewkit's MCA Ceremony

Pallid starlight hung heavily upon the unusually quiet evening air; the opulent darkness of the rapid dissipating night sky gradually curdling under the insistent illumination of the slowly rising moon. The hour of the night was odd - stuck somewhere between too late to be called sundown, yet too early to called moonhigh - and the petulant atmosphere even worse, the darkness made all the more stifling by the intense heat that seemed to insistently linger; even the prideful creatures of the night seemed helpless against the lingering crest of ever-present humidity, helpless save for their desire to lounge and enjoy the somewhat limited reprieve of the darkness. The freshly blossoming grasses and foreign foliage that crept across the duration of WindClan's moorlands had gradually given way to craggy hills and large expanses of tumbling rocks as Brindlestar and Yewkit had traveled further and further towards the all-consuming outline of the Highstones. The unpleasantly sticky and rough evening air was made tangy by the weight of humidity and foreign scents, as unwelcome distraction for the swiftly traveling pair of wanderers. Only the persistent stray breeze, borne from an unknown land far beyond the furthest reaches of the Highstones, seemed to bring any semblance of alertness to the oddly silent lands.

The overly-prominent jut of her front canines pressed sharply against the delicate flesh of her lips and chin, bearing down menacingly under the strain of Brindlestar's absent, agitated grinding and grating. It was as though the entire world was in a mood as foul as her own.

Softcloud was ought to spend more time fawning over the needs of RiverClan as compared to anything else, so it was hardly a surprise that she was absent for something as important as this- the selection of her successor, the official transition of knowledge and power, the handling of their Deputy's only kit. There was an undercurrent of sourness as Brindlestar paused to help Yewkit scrabble over a particularly sharp and jagged shelf, the young Leader's blatant disappointment in her Medicine Cat's flagrant disregard for her duties painfully obvious. And to top it off, they had to worry about encountering hostile enemies during all of this. Fantastic.

"It's not much longer," Brindlestar mewed after a sullen heartbeat, stones kicking and skirting quite obviously beneath her hasty movements towards the awaiting caverns, "maybe just a fox-length or two."

Moons has passed since the hazelnut-pelted tom had been brought into the world. Over the course of that time, several of his former denmates had moved to the apprentice's den and begun their training. A desire for the honor of warriorhood was merely a fantastical whim. Yewkit simply longed for the coveted freedom earned by the changed of a name. He'd busied his paws with pestering his many clanmates who desire little more than a moment of reprieve from the persistent badgering. It appeared that on this thick-aired night, their awaited cravings would finally be satiated.

The kit's paws delicately greeted the grass with each step. Excitement was drawn solely from the ideal that this would finally be the thing to satisfy his yearning soul, which craved satisfaction in the form of an unknown aspiration. Amber eyes flickered across the clearing, drinking in all that was bathed in the pale light of stars. Hunger was in the depth of his gaze, tinged with several other unreadable flickers of emotion. Painted across his maw was a devilish grin that was only betrayed by the slivers of moonlight. There were several fleeting moments where he almost forgot about the leader padding along next to him. Stretched limbs bore the truth of his Windclan heritage and made it easy to keep pace. Everything felt surreal, a factor the young tom pushed away in favor of the fact this was to be his salvation for nameless desires.

Yewkit's eyes drifted to the pale molly as she spoke. He hardly took a moment to read her features as the stones skittered and cascaded around his paws. Usually, it was second nature for him to be chattering away but this occasion ceased his unrelenting tongue for a majority of the trip. It was when her words shattered the silence and the ominous cavern hover just ahead that he finally spoke. The words snapped from the tom with unusual purpose, "Are Starclan cats giant? You could fit our whole clan in the entrance." It was strange hints of fear that prickled his pelt. The words didn't betray this sensation but they filled the emptiness and he found comfort as they twisted of the length of his tongue.

The rocky earth sloped sharply, a winding rivulet of upturned soil that crept ever downward into the awaiting cavern. Darkness, thicker than the foul dark clouds left behind in the wake of a quick-moving monster, yawned outwards from the jagged opening in the earth. The faint noise exuded by local nightlife rang hollowly upon the stifling air, faintly resonating within the yawning opening of the cavern. Brindlestar's attention briefly redirected to the young Yewkit as they continued to trek further and further into the stagnant darkness of the tunnels, feathered weight of her tail laid lightly upon the smaller tabby's shoulders to ensure that he didn't stray too far from the vaguely familiar path she currently tread upon. "Giant?" She echoed after a moment of reprieve, still struggling to swallow down the worst of her flaring temper, "I wouldn't say so. They're just normal cats, as you and I are; although, some might argue that they're a bit less rabbit-brained than most, thanks to a lifetime of experience and knowledge."

The darkness was slowly diluting, watery grey lights slowly illuminating the farthest reaches of the sprawling caverns. Damp rock was softly sparked alight by the whispers of unperturbed moon and glimmering starlight, rendering the dark world starkly void of any other colors aside from white, silvers, and deep grays.

The arching curve of the ancient ceiling had partially collapsed, the dark stone crumbling away to reveal a great wound that bled constant exposure to the outside world, a stark reminder that everything out of the tunnels hadn't actually disappeared. Moonlight and dashes of faint starlight were visible within the dark wound of the cavernous ceiling, filling the sacred grounds with both a taste of fresh air and light, weak as it may be. Nestled within the heart of a rather spacious cavern, sharp stone teeth rose up all around the glimmering stone, forming a loosely scattered ring of imposing fangs. The unusually smooth surface of the Moonstone threw dazzling reflections all about the cavern, strange shapes dancing about on the edges of one's vision. The stark light bleached everything in desolate shades, bleeding away the rich colors that likely resided within the ancient cavern. Crystalline flecks of light hung heavily in the air, catching on smaller flecks of crystals that jutted from the encapsulating walls, blending with the downy specks of dewy light that clung to the chilly stone walls. Odd shadows stretched about all around the pair, swaying and curling up with even the slightest of movements offered up by the two cats.

Pausing a tail-length before the sacred stone, Brindlestar paused to beckon Yewkit a few paces closer, her damp breath curling skywards. The summons of such a ceremony were entirely unfamiliar, a secretive right of passage that was rarely shared beyond the companionship of fellow Medicine Cats. Certainly StarClan would understand if she floundered in her performance of the rite, circumstances provided. "Come lay here, and press your nose against the Moonstone. StarClan should handle the rest of the ceremony from there."

"Probably smarter than Shrikecall at least. But that isn't too hard."

Curious amber eyes prodded the darkness ahead. The words fell from his mouth and were quickly swallowed by the stagnant cave air. He thought little more of the Starclan cats he was about to me, finding himself wholly uninterested in the fact that they were not physically larger than life. A slight quivering of his tail was hidden by the stifling blackness. Unconsciously, the little tom drifted close enough to Brindlestar to feel the radiating warmth from her pelt. It was a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of cool air that drifted up from the frigid stone beneath their paws. A natural stillness comprised this leg of the journey. Yewkit felt as if the world around them had stopped, time ceasing to exist as they drifted into a bath of paled, silver moonlight.

The leader directed him forward, drawing back from the stone herself. This was supposed to be a right of passage for him alone. He had never been one for such circumstances and currently failed to understand the weight of the promise he was supposed to make this night. Often, Heronfeather had chastised him for chattering during other's ceremonies. But this was different. Hesitance stilled his paws. There was a flutter of his eyelids as twin pools of uncertain light glanced in Brindlestar's direction. There was no reason to ignore the call though. His movements were odd as he finally pressed forward, almost a shrug in response to the idea he was going to speak with their long dead ancestors. Those slender paws delicately touched the cool stone, followed by the impression of his nose as he settled down. Although their path had no been as long as that of the other clans, this was the furthest Yewkit had ever traveled. It did not take long to succumb to sleep.

An eerie, pallid glow greeted his eyes as they parted once more to drink in the starry landscape. Ahead sat an equally hued silhouette tinged with the memory of a russet pelt. Through slitted eyes, the Starclan cat weighed Yewkit. There was a slight twitching of whiskers as she spoke, "You're even less impressive than they said." The she-cat huffed softly, a contrast to the honeysuckle sweet manner in which she spoke. The cadence of her voice was hauntingly beautiful and served to make whatever she said come across as a compliment. It was for this reason it took a moment for the tom's ears to twitch and his tail to begin lashing with hesitancy, "I was once known as Eye of Watching Hawk, but you may call me Hawkeye." Seemingly catching sight of his expression, there came a soft titter from the sides of her maw. Before he could speak, there came one final greeting:

"Personally, I think you'll do horribly, kit. But I look forward to seeing how this goes. It gets boring watching cats live an easy life, and you certainly all have it here in the forest. How quickly they forget their origins..."

"Are we going to get this over with or what?" There was the agitated flick of an ear. Whatever reservations had budded in his chest seemingly melted away with the rhythm of her words. Yewkit held no particular interest in receiving the medicine cat title but he was less impressed by the attempted tongue lashing following his first jaunt from camp. Whatever mystical advice she had to present could be done without additional chattering. A bored, half-lidded gaze met her eyes, "I'm assuming you're supposed to make me a medicine cat?"

Hawkeye snorted. She rose onto her paws and stalked closer, hardly a tail-length apart. Measures of contempt and intrigue twisted in the blue depths of her gaze. Finally, the Starclan cat nodded decisively, "From this moment until you receive your full medicine cat name, you will be known as Yewpaw." Her head dipped forward, crashing into his nose abrasively. Yewpaw pulled back and instinctively growled. At this, Hawkeye lunged forward and bared her teeth at his throat. He froze. It occurred to the tom he had no idea what Starclan was capable of. Whatever teeth on fur was suspected never came. Instead the new medicine cat was enwreathed with chilling words that prickled at his fur.

"Yew is a poison that strips life from the body and your paws are already seeped in blood. Starclan will be watching, Yewpaw. Do better than I expect."