Brindleface's Leader Ceremony

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 flakes of snow that drifted down from massive open high above. Odd shadows stretched about all around her, swaying and curling up with every hesitant movement. Pausing a tail-length before the sacred stone, Brindleface’s heavy breathing dwindled down into a weak, hardly discernible inhale that went curling skyward in a visible cloud of steam.

---

"So that's it, then? You're giving up, just because things are a little hard?" It had been difficult to know if the tightness in her chest was from the raging sense of betrayal or sour tinge of disappointment that wreathed around her throat. It had been hard after the Great Battle, harder than it had any right to be, and they had lost nearly all of their Warriors. They needed stability to survive, and the past few moons had offered anything but.

"Not giving up," Wildstar looked worn, haggard with a sense of defeat that aged him well beyond his years, "Choosing my battles. WindClan cannot afford the luxury of a Leader who can only lead them when they are able to do so, our Clan need a Leader who will always be willing and able." He had always suffered from an odd sickness, even during the earliest of their nursery days. It was a peculiar stiffness in the joints, an immobility that had only worsened as he had gotten older, an invisible pain that lingered just below the surface. It had always been a source of contention and worry, a nagging fear that hung heavily in the air like a pestering gnat.

---

She had spent the entirety of her journey critically analyzing every last detail of her argument with Wildstar, too fixated on the syrupy rush of anger that clogged the narrow track of her veins to pay mind to anything else. The staggering reality of the situation tasted of defeat, wore the bitter reek of desperation. Brindleface hadn't even deigned enough energy to think about what the Moonstone might look like, completely wrapped up in her own thoughts and disappointment. Now, standing here before the very same stone where her two predecessors had also stood, she could hardly focus on anything other than how small she felt. How very heavy the weight of the world seemed in that moment, how impassive and cold the soul of the Moonstone itself seemed to be.

Eventually forcing herself to take a few more hasty steps forwards, Brindleface winced slightly as her belly fur brushed softly against the frigid, snow-speckled stone earth of the cavern. Although the light felt searing from this distance, the pain felt a bit more realistic and grounding- a tether to everything in the present. Stretching forward slightly, the former Deputy let out a shaky inhale as her nose gently brushed against the unearthly stone. Countless scents rushed up to eagerly meet her nose; stale air, churned earth, decay, and frigid stone. A strange, synthetic drowsiness bubbled up within her veins, softly licking at her flesh and muscles in a soothing manner. As Brindleface's gaze grew heavy and eventually drifted shut, a new scent pooled heavily atop her tongue. Drawing in another slow, leisurely inhale of frigid air, the taste persistently lingered behind her teeth as the last bit of conscious thought faded. It was bitter, cold, and surprisingly sharp with the fragrance of something unfamiliar yet easily memorable.  

---

"But how do you know this is the right choice?" Brindleface couldn't help a final press, the icy chill of unease evident beneath the myriad of other emotions boiling up within her, "You were chosen for a reason. To go against that choice could very well destroy us." Wildstar released a slow sigh in response to her words, and the subsequent questioning beneath them, chest vibrating under the force of a particularly hollow rattle. Yet, the red-furred tom remained silent in the face of her inquiry, features devoid of any single emotion and practically unrecognizable.

In his eyes, there was only her reflection peering back at her- miniature and warped beyond recognition.

---

”Greetings, Brindleface."

The sound of countless voices dredged Brindleface away from the depths of the restless sleep she had managed to drift into, the soft hum of hundreds of voices ringing sharply within her mind. Blearily blinking away the final, stubbornly lingering tendrils of sleep, a pang of surprise reverberated within her form. Richly colored grass swayed about all around her, thrusting tantalizing scents up into the warm air all around her. Brindleface hardly had time to marvel at the sheer beauty that unfolded around her endlessly, for several starry shapes seemed to simply appear before her. Every cat that seemed to explode into existence with a bright flash of rippling starlight seemed vaguely familiar, even though she couldn’t recall their features or names.

”The time has come for you to take this next step in life. But before we bless you with the nine lives necessary for you to lead WindClan, we must strip you of your former identity. Are you willing to sacrifice everything you were for everything you are meant to be?” The voices hummed once more, sharp undercurrents resonating through the sweet summer air of the unearthly realm. The question sent an uneasy pulse through Brindleface, resulting in her twisting about in a futile attempt to find the speaker in the glistening sea of cats before her. Everything about this situation just felt... odd. It had always been easy to forgo the acceptance of responsibility as a Deputy; it had simply existed in the back of her mind as a distant reality, nowhere near a possible outcome for the future. She had always assumed that Wildstar would lead well beyond her service as a Deputy, and a more suitable replacement would eventually be found as the opportunity presented itself. How could things have derailed so extremely?

No. "Yes."

The initial faces who came before Brindleface were mostly unrecognizable, fallen Clanmates and kin who had perished during the earliest days of the Clans, those who hadn't ever lived long enough to even see the forest, and those who were so ancient that their outlines were all but lost to the silvery light of the dreamy background. For every life they offered, they brought immense agony and pain in exchange- equal parts draining and invigorating. She had stopped counting somewhere after the second cat, entirely too focused on simply trying to survive the pain of the ordeal. It felt difficult for Brindleface to stand upright, every muscle in her body simultaneously made of stone and liquid under the weight of her growing exhaustion.

A shape slipped away from the crowded ranks of starry cats that encircled her, the latest face in a line that already felt entirely too long. The splotched grey and white pelt, although simmering with the effects of eternal youth, was startlingly familiar. Almost like looking at a reflection. The grey and white molly's pale gaze was shaded with a friendly ease, as though they had somehow already known each other.

"Hello, Brindleface." The she-cat mewed, voice soft like a light spring rain, her gaze filled with an oddly vacant luminescence that resonated strongly in the silence. There was such a vehement emotion simmering within the depths of the molly's cool gaze that it made her feel weak, touched by a gaze that suddenly saw everything that she was and was not within the lapse of such brief time. "You do not know me, but my name is Falling Feather. My daughter was one of those who were cast from the mountains so that the rest of us might survive- I spent many moons wondering about what had befallen my daughter, where my kin might've gone. Whether or not it was right to cast out some, just to see if others might live."

Falling Feather took another gliding step forward until the two molly’s were nearly nose to nose. Luminous eyes, practically overflowing with a soft kindness, blinked in her direction. Though the glimmering starlight strongly radiated outwards from within the ghostly depths of the splotched grey molly's gaze, it was softened by a touch of something warm, a flavoring of something maternal. "I am glad to see that my kin lives on, that my daughter was able to raise her own family somewhere safe and forgiving." Brindleface's mother had made the journey down from the mountains when she was young, and had practically grown up in the forests. They had rarely ever talked about everything left behind in the mountains, whenever her mother was willing to even speak of such things, evidently it had always been much too sore of a subject to approach.

"With this life, I give you the gift of a mother’s love. Treat your Clanmates as though they are your kin, regardless of whether or not you share their blood. They are your family now, Brindleface, so defend them at all costs.” Falling Feather murmured, the cool flesh of her nose gently brushing against Brindleface’s forehead. The ensuing pain that immediately followed suit was agonizing. Starting deep within the flesh between her hips and radiating out, it felt startlingly similar to the pain one felt during labor. It ripped, grated, and tore at her until she wanted to throw her head back and scream into the heavens until her voice went raw. Claws tearing into the soft, sweet grass below, Brindleface’s body trembled slightly as the pain only intensified. Bones grated against bones, flesh writhing and bucking in faulty attempts to void such terrible torment. Despite the appalling nature of such finite sensations, it was sharply familiar in all of the worst ways. The pain of a mother, the pain of bringing forth short-lived life in a land crueler than the effort of bearing such precious life.

Something else was pooling up within her alongside the pain, an ancient ferocity that burned so brightly that it nearly overcame the aftershocks of the terrible pain. The rush of protectiveness that surged through her veins was startling- it gave her such strength that she felt as though she could move mountains, take on countless enemies without tiring, or tear down the stars themselves. All in defense of her Clanmates. The agony had burned away the exhaustion, the lingering tendrils of senseless pain, and cumbersome unease, leaving behind only the most haughty of strengths. Heaving a shuddering breath in, by the time Brindleface was aware entirely of her surroundings once more, Falling Feather had been replaced by a new face.

A face lost to the passage of the seemingly endless days, yet a face that still called throughout the presence of memories and dreams. The dark grey tabby before her sent a much welcomed spark of fondness crashing through her. Stonewhisker, her late mother who had fought and died during the Great Battle. The love she felt for her departed mother wasn't particularly overwhelming due to their somewhat absent relationship, yet her throat tightened at the sight of the she-cat all the same. Although the ghostly she-cat's features were mostly unreadable, the mirrors of rich green could not dissuade the mutually felt emotions in the current moment.

”Hello, my love.” Stonewhisker's low voice rumbled with a powerful purr as she brushed against Brindleface, allowing their cheeks to rest against one another for a brief moment. Inhaling her still incredibly familiar scent, she savored the sense of comfort that arose from the tender moment. It had been a staggeringly long time since they had seen each other, let alone behaving so affectionately in each other's company. "I would say that you've grown, but I still think that you're incapable of making a good decision. I think your parenting decisions are proof enough!"

”Mother!"

Brindleface allowed herself a soft purr as well, unable to resist delving into the welcoming atmosphere that bubbled up around the starry she-cat. "Careful now, or else I might believe that you actually miss me." It was nice, that even for a heartbeat, that she could almost pretend that the burdens of the waking world weren’t weighing down upon her shoulders, that she could pretend to be small and carefree once more. Stonewhisker's composure fractured for a brief moment, a slight smile playing around the edges of her muzzle. Brushing their cheeks together for a final time before drawing away entirely, the tabby's head tilted slightly as she braced herself for the act that came next.

”You’ve waited this long to speak to me, I’m sure you’ll be able to wait a few more moons before we truly are able to catch up.” She mewed softly, leaning forward to gently brush her muzzle against Brindleface’s head in a manner similar to Falling Feather. Although it was nearly lost to the cold scent of starlight and ancient stone, there was the faintest remnant of her mother's familiar scent- a ghost of a memory at best, something that was only memorable during the latest hours of the night. ”With this life, I give you the gift of humility. You have become so much more than anybody would’ve anticipated, but it’s important that you never forget where you came from."

"Use your past to tether you to the present and you’ll never lose yourself.” The pain that came forth wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as the past lives, instead, it took the form of a gentle nipping that sharpened her senses. Memories that were once fuzzy from age were now burning with a newfound clarity, countless memories, and actions that had been forgotten with the passage of time branding themselves back into the center of her mind.

Pulling away from Stonewhisker with a puff of relief that she had finally been gifted a life that didn't immediately make her feel as though she was moment's away from death, Brindleface was pleased to see how quickly the effects of this life faded. In its absence, a soft warmth tingled within her veins, brushing away any lingering tension that resided within her muscles. Unlike the ferocious jolt of energy that had blossomed within her after Falling Feather's life, this was a gentle touch of adrenaline; like she had gone out for an early morning run to clear her senses, and now felt ready to face the day with a clear, focused mind.

A small pit of disappointment opened up within her belly as she watched her mother depart with only a single kind gaze tossed back in her direction. The sea of starry shapes quietly parted to allow the dead she-cat to return to their ranks, Stonewhisker's dark pelt quickly and thoroughly lost within the depths of the shimmering crowd. However, she wasn't given much time to dwell on the twinge of sadness that tightened up her throat, because for several agonizingly long heartbeats, nothing seemed to continue- almost as though all of the proceedings had dragged to a stop.

There seemed to be a slight reprieve in the giving of lives. For several heartbeats, no starry-flecked cat swept up to take the place of Stonewhisker, instead the shimmering wall of loosely scattered cats only blinked back at her. Despite her slight confusion, the momentary break was a welcomed one, especially considering how weary she truly was- it felt as though she could easily sleep for a moon straight. Was the ceremony always this strenuous for others? Had it been this difficult for Wildheart, back whenever he had initially received his lives- or was she just that much more frightened by the notion of pain? Chin dropping briefly against her throat to take the strain off of her stiff, aching neck, Brindleface’s ears folded against her skull.

The fleeting sense of triumph that had often accompanied the lives she had received had dwindled to a weak flicker. Why hadn’t anybody warned her about how...difficult it truly was? The nativity she had felt in regards to a ceremony as sacred of this one made her want to shout in frustration. It was a wound that stung greatly, being able to see her Clanamtes and kin once again; but only for a a brief moment that was entirely overwhelmed by the pain of each interaction.

”I know it’s difficult, but you must be strong.” Windstar's voice clawed away the tendrils of despair and exasperation that had encased her mind. Wearily lifting her head once more, Brindleface gazed at the familiar features of her former Leader, surprised by how familiar and different the grey tabby appeared to be. No longer the grievously wounded, practically unrecognizable cat who had died at the paws of Wildheart during the Great Battle, but instead she was a young Leader whose strength and youth had been returned to her through death. Never before had she seen the original Clan Leader so vibrant and full of life, the sharp spark of vitality evident in the depths of her amber eyes. "Leadership is a burden that is more tiring that one would ever imagine, you can't already be so weary."

The sight of her former Leader sent a wave of joy so strong that she felt like crumbling to her knees- it was enough to wash away all the pain, weariness, and hurt from the other lives she had previously been subjected to. "Windstar!" Brindleface couldn't help but purr, overjoyed to see the old she-cat who had lead WindClan for most of her youth and adolescence. They had only been separated for a few moons at most, but it had felt like a lifetime. Especially when considering that WindClan had been a staple presence in her life since she was but a few moons old. Secondary purr rumbling in Brindleface’s throat, and rattling deep within her chest, as Windstar halted in front of her. The two she-cat’s heads bumped together in an affectionate greeting, the familiar scents rising up in a cloud of familiarity and comfort.

"This all feels so... strange. I never thought I'd actually end up here, without Wildheart at my side. I feel like I can't process this, no matter how hard I try." She confessed, unsure of how to adequately explain the torrent of different emotions that bubbled beneath the surface. All the anger, fear, and dismay blending together in a disastrous symphony.

Windstar’s features hardened slightly, growing from an expression of welcome to one of stern understanding. Pulling away from one another entirely, the prickly-furred StarClan cat’s form seemed to ripple and sway oddly, pulsing as though it was an ever-flowing body of water. ”Do you think that any cat ever truly is ready? There's hardly anything one could do or say that could effectively prepare someone for a scenario such as this." She began, reaching out with a forepaw to gently brush against Brindleface’s cheek. The contact, despite Windstar’s lack of a physical form, was soothing. "It might seem difficult now, but you are ready to live beyond me. The grief and fear you feel now is only a temporary state of mind that will pass, just as all obstacles do.” Letting out a sigh with such vigor that her shoulders caved, Brindleface nodded slowly in agreement. Life without her kin seemed alien and unwelcoming, but she knew she could handle it. Even if she didn’t want to, she could. Blinking up at her former Leader, the two she-cat’s briefly rested their heads together one final time.

”With this life, I give you hope. Hope is like the sun; it is the foundation of all life that we know of. So long as you remember, that even during the darkest of nights, it will always be with you, you shall never find yourself without it.” The sensations that chased Windstar’s soft touch were unusually gentle. It felt like a fire had been lit deep inside her once more, only instead of raging and scorching heat, it was a soft warmth. Visions of a life so sweet and bountiful were dancing behind her eyes, whispering promises of a life of plenty for her kits, their kits and so on. A hunger welled up within her, one that could never be easily sated by something as temporary a freshkill. What she craved was those visions. A lifetime of content with hardly any suffering in sight.

”Remember, you now carry the burden of Leadership. You are what this Clan will grow beyond.” Windstar’s fading voice drew her away from the enticing visions that still stubbornly clung to her. She wanted to chase after her old Leader, even if it was just for a few more brief heartbeats spent together, but before she could even take a step forward, something else caught her eye. The shimmering curtain of cats was morphing once more, wavering and flickering with countless little movements that rippled outwards like a droplet in a pool.

”Brindleface,” The oddly strong voice of countless cats returned once more, derailing any future thoughts, ”You have now received the nine lives that are necessary when leading a Clan. We gather here to greet you by your new name and title; Brindlestar, Leader of WindClan.”

The voices rose up into a resonating cheer, one that seemed to rise and fall with the ecstatic beating of her heart. Leader. She was Leader now. The energy that exploded into her veins at the realization pulsed with a youth-like vigor, filling her body with a strange tingling. It felt as though she could easily run to the ends of the earth without tiring. Even as the starry bodies of the cats around her began to slowly fade, the cheering remained long after they had gone- so long that, perhaps, she had merely imagined it all.

Tilting her head back to watch the rapidly dissipating sky, Brindlestar’s attention only seemed to drift back to the sharp sensation of something gazing at her. But she had just witnessed all of those who attended her ceremony simply vanish with the blink of an eye. The sensation only served to strengthen, the fur atop her spine and nape prickling as a result of the suddenly vicious feeling that overcame her. Dropping her head back down to its natural position, her gaze warily swept the hungry shadows that were crawling their way towards her. Everything was rapidly melting away, fading to a dreary grey nothingness- it was almost like she was stuck between the dreaming and waking world, until everything suddenly sharpened back into reality.

The wide space of the Moonstone's cavern, once bathed in the eerie silver light of the moon, was heavy with the shadowy light of predawn. The once bubbling glimmer of the sacred stone had bled into something softer, something hardly discernible to the untrained eye- Brindlestar herself was only able to catch the faintest flickering of the rapidly dying light just a whisker away from her face. Although her heart still seemed to be pounding with such a ferocious intent that it rattled her bones, the pain of receiving her lives no longer seemed to weigh her down. The sharp, gnawing ache of her grief still tore deep into her chest, but it did little to quell the raging storm of energy that flooded her veins. Stiffly hauling herself up from the cold, unpleasantly damp floor of the cavern, Brindlestar's posture was tense with a newfound resolve as she began to hurry towards the yawning tunnel that served as her connection to the outside world.