Hawktalon’s Leader Ceremony

Without the cover of the pines, wind bit into the tom’s short fur like frost invading the forest. He stood at the entrance to the system of caves, but made no move to enter. It wasn’t navigating Highstones that scared him, it was the thought of what would happen. Hawktalon could remember, clear as day, Magpiestar’s conversation. An explanation. ‘I know the Clan will be safe in your care. I trust you.’

Misplaced trust, he thought bitterly. The tom wasn’t one to bow to fears or anxiety - he was irrational, brash, risky. Only a young warrior when he’d been promoted to deputy. A season later, still feeling just as green, leader. Bile coated his tongue. A few moons, if that, at Magpiestar’s shoulder. Only one spent as deputy. Sickness had prevented Magpiestar from going to Gatherings, and the same sickness was causing him to retire. Causing a young warrior to take over the Clan. He shouldn’t trust me if I can’t trust myself, but the only real options are trust or anarchy.

He may have lingered just outside the entrance for the entire night. It was the frosty wind that prompted the first step. It was the first step into the caverns that boosted his anxiety and motivated him. Leadership was his natural talent, his dream. The only way to push through anxiety was to ignore it. Focusing on it gave it control over you. Hawktalon inhaled. It felt like sucking thorns into his throat. His ear tips were warm as his claws clicked, moving briskly now to the selected cavern. He was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane as he drew himself forward. The venomous bile still coated his throat. His tongue passed over his dry mouth, and he blinked several times as a small pocket of light gradually grew.

It was the Moonstone. The first bit of light. Hawktalon felt more uncomfortable out of the shadows - but StarClan signifies light anyway, doesn’t it? - and stopped again. He had to divert his gaze from the iridescent, glowing stone. Even through his eyelids he could feel the light, and see it red through his eyelids. The bile in his throat surged, and he turned away, hoping with everything in him he wouldn’t retch all over the sacred floor. He raised his eyes to the stone again, heavily narrowed, and stepped forwards. He gave a soft hiss as his tail fur brushed the floor. It was frigid and unexpectedly so. His ear tips touched the stone as he twisted away. The moment his nose made contact, it would start. Inevitable. The journey for hours had been for this point, the point where his ancestors would tear him down to build him up again. His eyes were flat silver disks as he stared up. The split of the top of the cavern displayed the sky. Stars were in partial view, covered by fog, mist, and clouds. He looked back at the Moonstone. It was so luminescent, glorious to all no matter your perspective on beauty. He didn’t like it. How perfect it was. But I’m not here for philosophy. There is a task at hand and I’m loosing moonlight.

No turning back now.