from beyond. [closed]

[faythe]

Rowanwing
There was an eerie silence as the cat moved among the moor, his homeland, the lands that would forever mark him as a Warrior of WindClan. Around him the rain poured, each drop fell in unison of the other before it; each drop brought him closer to a fat he did not know the outcome of. The rain – it was the d**n rain that had begun his whole life long journey – the one thing that he had always known to be his downfall. Beside him, the wind howled and roared across the plains, it fell down among the grasses and whipped rain across in sheets, but still somehow he managed to avoid each sheet as though it would slice him in half for how hard it poured down on them all. His heart ached heavily, for many things, some of which he would have left behind long ago and others he had just found before he had vanished from the meeting the Rustlestar had called. He hadn’t wanted to go to that meeting in the first place, seeking instead to face the tune of defeat that had been stalking him since his trip to the Moonpool only days ago, but of course the clan leader had insisted…and now there was Heathpaw.

Heathpaw. An almost equally ambitious cat to his father, one who only sought glory in the life of a Warrior and not the honor, pride, or responsibility that came with it – what a foolish cat! Although he was young, just barely a year he supposed, the time that had marked the cat’s of WindClan’s moments without their leaders had put back the once Heathkit’s apprenticeship for too long. How was he to deal with such an impatient, spoiled, ambitious cat? Rowanwing sighed at the thought – he would just have to deal with it – perhaps once he spoke with StarClan they could guide him with a way to train the cat without getting his fur clawed off for it. Perhaps that cat would learn someday that you don’t always get what you want in life. The tom would have to find a way to please the apprentice, seeing as his father was their leader…and the apprentice was left in his hands by that cat. What had he gotten himself into? His thoughts raced at a hundred miles a minute as he walked through the rain and closer to the Moonpool, there was so much he could have done before leaving to come here – to meet his destiny.

He crossed the line of trees that met the moor and WindClan’s side of the river among the trees. His gaze locked on the slightly trodden path the group of cats that had come among the path to the Moonpool only yesterday, was it yesterday? The tom did not know, hours passed these days without his knowledge or focus from among the rain and clouds that had already muddled his own thoughts, pools of memories and ideas and knowledge seemed to be bubbling up from inside his core, things he just could not place for the moment, perhaps he would someday. He thought to his clan as he walked, to Swallowleaf and Duskfeather – oh how he hoped she would come to love that cat. Perhaps it was meant to be; he should have never thought of her than more than a friend, not that he did of course, and she was a wonderful friend, but he was a tom…and toms like to think where they were not supposed to. Rustlestar – would he become the leader that StarClan believed him to be? Heathpaw, Mistpaw, Slatepaw, Cinderpaw, those apprentices that had been made on this day. How would their lives continue with him changing before their own eyes?

It was a silly thought of course. The brown tabby tom that had lived and grown up among the clan, that had been born, apprenticed, mentored, and been called by StarClan to become something that, for the time at least, he thought he was not. His feet were beginning to turn sore, pads raw from walking such a long distance twice in nearly twenty-four hours. Perhaps when he got back he would know how to speed up the healing on them. He sighed, that was if he was right. He wanted so badly to be right, but at the same time, so badly to be wrong. Had his ancestor’s truly called him to this duty? Perhaps, perhaps not, but he had every intention of becoming what they wished if they had called him…but what would he tell the clan? Again, he almost lost control again, that panic that he had not felt since he had lost his brother so many moons ago edging closer to him.

Ahead, he could see the outline of the path that lead to the Moonpool. A shiver ran down his spine as he paused beneath the thick trees which had blocked most of the rain out so that it was no longer threatening to crush him here, but it still echoed from the highest tops of the trees above him. Here and there, a few drops fell from the leaves and rolled from the branches to his the already soaked forest floor. He followed the same stream that he had when he had come with his clan mates, the raging water hissed with an angry cry as it rushed over the rocks and spilled over the bank, it looked friendly to the cat for a bitter moment. Too friendly, but perhaps a quick escape from the fate he coursed toward. No. What a ridiculous thought! Of course he wouldn’t end his life for the sake of dying as a Warrior…if it wasn’t him, it would be another of his clan members that would have to leave from their path of choice to become a Medicine Cat. He couldn’t do that to them. He just couldn’t.

Closer still he drew, that pull that he had felt back at the camp tugged harder in his heart as he saw more clearly the details of ridge. ”Stop.” He muttered to himself as he drew even closer to the Moonpool, ”Take a deep breathe, calm yourself Ro.” His feet shuffled closer as he approached the fern’s among the top of the Moonpool. Wild eyes followed his path as he scanned the area below him. Instantly he found those haunting paw prints that had followed him since the moment he had stepped foot here with the four cats he had come with before. The starry outline of them grew brighter as he found himself walking among them, he could feel their presence as he moved with small steps along the ridge. Their eyes lingered on him, their starry coats moved in the wind as they glided across the space with ease. He knew, but he could not truly see them, but still they remained there.

Every ounce of doubt that had been hidden among his thoughts slowly vanished as he moved. Every step made him feel just a little bit warmer on the inside. Everything around him just a bit clearer and perhaps a little bit brighter. So what if he lived the life of a medicine cat? There were some things that even StarClan could forgive for a cat that was pulled from one destiny to another…perhaps. There was a sense of relief that had pooled collectively in the air, and another sense that a few let out breathes that they had been holding for a long time. His feet moved him to the western side of the Moonpool, and for a moment he could do nothing but watch the stars that reflected from inside it, while the clouds above still held strong. Tonight he would face his fate. Tonight, tonight he would change.

His green eyes watched the pool for a moment, a trace of sadness and regret lingered among them as he head dipped in a silent prayer to his ancestors. ”Please,” he spoke softly, his voice carried that musical element to it that he held so dearly. ”Please, let this be the right choice.” He fell silent again, his muzzle dipping down to the icy cold water, so close that his breathe disturbed the reflection of the tom that he was until he spoke with them, the tom he would be until he left, the tom he would never see again. His tongue, sandpaper rough and pink, lapped up a sip of the sacred water, ice cold as it slid down his throat. He lay down beside the Moonpool and fell back into the blackness. A void, a dream, the end – what was this blackness?

He did not remain there long. For he woke among the Moonpool’s edge, staring into the faces of all of StarClan that had gathered, and many a cat were they. They blinked at him, and he blinked back with an almost shocked expression. The ranks of StarClan, something only a few cats from their past would ever see. Their eyes were trained on him, searching, waiting. Looking around, his gaze landed on the Moonpool’s surface – it reflected clouds. He did not speak, but his gaze locked on the cats that waited on the other side. ”I have come, to face both judgment and fate.” he murmured to the cats, his head dipped to the ground. ”I give myself to you,” His eyes met theirs, searching again, ”I am honored to finally meet you, but if it is not to bold, can you answer just this…” his voice wavered slightly as he spoke, ”…why me?” Then he would wait. Please let him have made the right choice.

[Fernear!]

As Rowanwing lapped up the starlit water, rain continuously poured down on him, but the peace was held in the sacred forest. The said line of cats created a lopsided semi-circle around the confused warrior, their gaze unbroken. The trees dotted throughout the territory were few and far between. It was as if the forest had opened to a moor, a moor much like its daughter below. The ring of cats all acknowledged Rowanwing's question, although they did not speak right away. The silence drew on, the walls of the earth echoing the lone voice. Illuminated bodies paced themselves across the moor, chasing invisible rabbits like they would have when they were alive. Soon the circle of cats became outlined by a celestial line, each one becoming consumed by the shine until only one cat held the characteristics of a living cat.

The final cat was a brown tabby, much alike the visitor before him. His maw was whitened with age but his body showed no signs of it. Golden eyes were locked onto Rowanwing’s; they were as deep as the ocean with inquiry but undoubtable understanding filling them. As if on cue, the world became alive. The former blandness of the starry world was forgotten; neutral temperatures fell to humidity, silence bowed to the sounds of the moor and distant cicadas in the ThunderClan forest. It was a picturesque scene if you weren't in such a situation.

The cat was singled out from the group for a valid reason, which will forever be buried in the attic of StarClan. He blinked, for the first time in ages it seemed, as he adjusted himself to his awakened senses. He didn't move his place. Only mild movements betrayed this state of inactivity. His chest rose and fell in harmony with each other and the forgotten heartbeat that once beat in his chest. A weak wind blew across the grassy moor, toning down the heat of the territory. Unlike its living counterpart, the stream was calm and let nothing but the wind and a few stray leaves obscure it.

Still the tom sat, his tail twitching every few moments. The wind baffled his medium-length hair as it blew around the secluded pair. Oddly enough, no StarClan cat would set foot near the two WindClan cats. Then the tom pulled his head down to his shoulder and stood up, only to start moving to the south side of the moor, his tail trailing behind him, parallel with his back. He headed towards the camp, where he wove among the scattered dens and lithe StarClan cats. Before continuing on he stepped onto a knoll in the land and look back at Rowanwing. A pathway of glowing paw prints were left behind him, a path which began to fade as he moved farther away from his starting point.

“Come with me, Rowanwing, I want to show you something.” His voice was hoarse and barely audible without the former hush. The tabby angled his head at the sky, looking up to a vaster place ever seen by a feline. He looked to the stars, and then gradually brought his head down to the moon, hiding itself behind the oak trees. There he waited, atop the little hill waiting, and expecting.

[/blockquote]

[faythe]

Rowanwing
For the longest moment the world around him seemed...plain. His senses strained for the hints of life, of happiness, of that being that he craved for the world of the living. The eyes of his ancestors trained onto him and he stared back, daring them to speak, to show they were nothing more than a figment of his imagination. They looked...haunted...dead, not the way that those of StarClan were told to be, not the way that he knew from his dreams for from his life. It was wrong - all wrong! His head spun with the intake of so much information, green eyes blinked as gave into the confusion all around him. Dazed. Yes, dazed, that was the perfect word for the occasion as he stood still and watched the cat before him - so many cats - become one.

Now. Before him stood a single cat - a brown tabby tom - one that was startlingly similar to the tom himself. He blinked once, following the cats motion as he tried to comprehend the transformation that he had just witnessed. Confused once again, the tom could do nothing but watch, watch and listen. This dull, colorless world, what had he done by joining them here? He tried to move a step closer, finding himself drawn again to the ancient cat, and then he stopped - realizing that he was glued to his spot by the ancient power of StarClan. He feared this, above all other things, but stood quietly and internally fought the panic. His core was raw here, open and exposed, for all of the ranks of StarClan to see...but in an instant they were gone.

The world around them exploded into color, the soft air pressed into his lungs with a whoosh and for a moment he could have sworn that he was on fire...but the pain subsided as he realized he had been hold his breathe for what seemed like an eternity. His body longed for the winds of the moor as they rushed across the space, bringing his head to turn to the breeze with a small gasp as he found the senses to be overwhelmed with everything. It was alive! More so than the world he had seen before this when he could not actually be...living? Did that make any sense? The tom did not no, did not care to know, but he watched without a care as he moved with a simple grace here, these ease of the movement amazed him, for a single moment he longed to stay here...but in his heart he knew it could not last.

He fond himself trailing after the cat that had come forth to him, that same golden-eyed tabby tom. WindClan from the looks of him. They flew over the moors at an amazing speed and rushed into the heart of camp, the StarClan's camp, its heavenly side lacked the wet and the rain as he had know below...and his past clan mates peered at him from their homes among StarClan's ranks. He found himself seeking out his loved ones, but quickly ashamed of that fact, he starred at his guides tail instead. It would be easier for him to move on without seeing them here...he knew that without having to be told. They dove in directions away from the pair with muted expressions and peering eyes. Rowanwing followed the tom with utter silence, paws quickly tracing those starry footprints the cat left behind, he left none himself.

“Come with me, Rowanwing, I want to show you something.” The cat in front of him had spoke. The young tom quickly followed, ears strained to hear what the old cat before him wished to speak. He allowed himself a muted nod and approached before the tom with, still, silence. The older tom did not have to wait long, Rowanwing stood beside him within moments. "Always." he murmured, his voice, as quiet as he could speak, held no trace of fear but a hint of curiosity lingered. It was a wondrous place, what would he get to see of it? Perhaps it was wrong of him to fear this calling. Perhaps it was right. Whatever the tom had to show him it must be important. They said curiosity killed the cat, but what if the cat was walking the lands of the dead? He shook his head and continued to move silently after the cat.

[Fernear!]

After being reunited with Rowanwing, the StarClan cat moved forward into the open moor, soon picking up a run. The peaceful breeze that once blew became a violent gale within seconds, but still the tom ran on, not once looking back to see if his partner was following him. His eyes were set on the path in front of him, never loosing its concentration. His chest heralded the sight of his former glory as he placed each paw down precisely at a gallop-like gait. His ears were facing his former standpoint, useless in such a turmoil of sounds. To many animals such a drastic change in volume would be overly uncomfortable, but thanks to the fact that he no longer heard like he used to, the tom continued to fly across the plain unaffected.

The tabby was heading into a maelstrom of incandescent felines, their claws sheathed in the reenactment. Such horrifying yowls had scarred the life of the cat. The display shot pain through his body in remembrance, him but he kept strong. Slowing to a trot, the tom turned to face Rowanwing. A layer of malice and sorrow bathed his eyes. "WindClan had been too friendly to RiverClan. That winter RiverClan had near to no yarrow, or so they said they did. We had plenty of it. The cats said that the twolegs had poisoned the fish, and half their clan had been infected by the toxins. We gave them more than enough of the herb and then they invaded. Still to this day we do not know why they did it. The cats who died in that battle dare not speak of it to any of us WindClan cats." Such information was seemingly invaluable to the young feline, if it was taken the wrong way. Spontaneously, the tabby hissed before spitting a question: "What would you have done?"

A cat with mental integrity would place ones life down for his duty. But what duty was meant for Rowanwing? That was the headline question tonight. Our StarClan friend will help him find that answer later on. His lips covered his yellow fangs and his ear perked up as a cat hurried past him, sending the pelt on his shoulder into a frenzy. The charging feline had the same demeanor as the tabby, with strikingly accurate steps, just as he did. His claws were unsheathed and his mouth overflowing with faded herbs. The specter entered the battle fearlessly as he went to aid his friend. "What do you feel?"

[/blockquote]

[faythe]

Rowanwing
From the tension that had hung in the air near the camp, the two toms flew across the moors at lightning speed. The wind picked up from its original pace - a simple summer breeze - to the maelstrom of furry that awaited them ahead as the two cats approached a battle. His guide spoke of a tale, WindClan verses RiverClan, the greedy pigs that had attacked them without warning once the cats of his clan had given them yarrow, all the yarrow they could ever need, but still the two clans battled here. His heart tore at the site for clan mates on either side lay in pools of bloods among the soft grasses of his homeland - the dead and the dying. No clan deserved to suffer like this, especially when it came to the kindness of one clan to the other to even offer any help. Wait, the tom was looking at this from a very biased set of mind. He was a WindClan cat, of course he would see his own clan actions as though they had been the best of their ability to help. The Warrior Code spoke of helping each clan to survive, for all clans must exist in order to live here peacefully.

He watched on as the tom besides him spit his next word to him. "What would you have done?" What would he have done? He would give everything to help his clan, his life, his heart, his pride. It was because of his clan, because of his ancestors, and because of StarClan that they lived the lives they did now. Who was he to judge? His heart would flutter at the thought of another's suffering, if there had been a need for another clan to seek out help in the first place - and they would have needed the help for RiverClan was to arrogant and proud to ask otherwise - he would have done as his clan had in the past. Give without question, perhaps offer more. As a Medicine cat, he would have gone to offer the help in treating the cats himself, but as a Warrior he might not have trusted those cat's in the first place. The error in his ways seemed to enlighten him as he gasped at the thought. It was not soft hearted to hold other clans in some spot in his heart, for they were all part of the Warrior Code and would become part of StarClan one day, being merciful was not weak.

What the tom did next surprised him even further. A cat of surprising similarity to the two onlookers streaked by them, the faint image of dried herbs hung from bundles in his mouth as he went to help the wounded. A medicine cat. Those words flickered in his mind with great meaning. It was for these cats that his own generation had survived - they were warriors, like him, that lived to serve the clan - only they served it by other means. He looked from the tabby within the fighting cats, bent over what truly was a friend, to the tabby that stood besides him. "The same," he whispered with a shocked croak, "it is wrong for another clan to suffer. For anyone to suffer." The battle in from of him raged on, yowl and screech after cry each reached his ears as he flinched from each sound. "What do you feel?" His next question peeled down another layer of his core, leaving him to feel even more exposed than he had while he spent his time among these starry cats.

What did he feel? Anger, for the surprise attack from a clan that his clan had helped. Disgust, for the unlawful fighting that went on in front of him. Fear, for his clan, for his own friends and his own family back in his world. Pity, for those who would die...for those who lost something this night. Sadness. The sadness that held deep down among his core - for each clan would have lost something on this night, for those this cat he saw before him could not save. As a warrior, the tom would be among them, slashing and fighting...wounding and killing. But somewhere within the melee, a lone cat would stand among these cat and treat those who were dying...those who were dead. The injured, the sick, the poor. It wasn't all that the cat did, he healed hearts and wished the dead of both sides well. The look in his eyes said it all, he felt ashamed. Raw. Naked. The core feelings he like to keep hidden to all those around him.

He stood on a line of indecision for a moment. In his clan he was a teacher, a friend, a mentor. On this field, he would have been an enemy, a clan mate, an obstacle or perhaps nothing more that a shell of what he had been back in his own camp. He looked to the tom besides him with a sorrowful expression, his eyes held a depth of emotion he did not have coming into this, if he left her tonight with nothing more that himself as he was he would have come back a changed cat. "Did he live?" his voice held steady as he watched another cat fall, then another. His tone betrayed his thought though, sick with worry for those he did not even know.

"It is not my battle, but how can I just stand here and watch?" He could not pull himself away. "It is wrong," his head dropped, "So many lives!" ... and they were just being thrown away. He felt sickened by the site, dazed even. Expression melting from the panic that rose in his heart, the type he had been taught to ignore and push away as a warrior, rose in his throat. "You were a Medicine cat, weren't you?" He muttered, still staring at the field. "This was your life?" It was nothing to sneer at, how could he have been so blind before? He fell quite and waited for his next instructions - knowing he could do nothing for the cats that stood before him. "Is it always this hard to feel so helpless?"

[Fernear!]

The disturbance roaring behind the StarClan cat had clearly been taken to heart by Rowanwing. The answers that he spoke rang a bell in the tom's mind, although he did not let it show through. Slowly, patiently the cat in the battle worked on his friend, his wounds fatally gorged into his chest. Such a wound would have been a lost cause even with the medicines of the twolegs. There was no chance for him. As his last breath was drawn, the tabby leaning over him yowled mournfully before stepping back to assist other warriors. The circle of killings became more and more devastating as the apparition aged.

Rowanwing's inquiries brought the tom's eyes to confront the latter, the severity of whichever emotion he was toiling with was overpowering. "You were a Medicine cat, weren't you? This was your life?" the living tom's words hung heavily in the gale, not letting the air drag it into a whisper. The questions were left unanswered. Regarding the battle with a flick of his tail the spirits were seen fleeing from both sides. The lengthy strides of the battled scarred WindClan cats and the hardy paces of the malignant RiverClan cats were soon whipped away by the dying breeze. Like the end of the battle, so the wind died down. The only body that was left was the passing tabby, now lying in the wind blown grass. His body shone brightly before being wisped away with his clan mates. The glowing air drew past the tom before they too disappeared, their light being transferred into him.

"Is it always this hard to feel so helpless?" the words were the hand to pull the gap between past and present closed. The dappled tom looked deeper into Rowanwing's pale green eyes, clearly fading away himself. "You are never so helpless unless you believe you are," He spoke resolutely before he too was blown away by the wind. All that was experienced earlier was meant to help the warrior, but to still keep him pondering about his future. The courage of one cat was intended leave an imprint on the tom's life and in turn, his decision.

[/blockquote]

[faythe]

Rowanwing
The battle before him raged on for what seemed like ages. Time and time again he watched as member after member lashed out, striking both friend and foe in their fury. Wincing, the tom stepped back, what ever happened to the Warrior code when these cats began to fight? There was a sense in the air that screamed of both intention to kill and intention to win…from both sides. The cats fought on, and on, and on, and then…as suddenly as it had started…the battle slowed. He watched for another moment, his senses calculating each scene as though they were in slow motion. Wide-eyed and severally frightened for what he was seeing he turned to watch as his guides look-a-like hustled from one end of the battle to the other, checking on the fallen…mourning the dead, those who still fought – of them many were severally injured. He gasped, gulping down to much air as he did, and coughed. Was this really the life of a Warrior? What in StarClan’s name were they doing? The fur on his back and neck raised, puffing out slightly with agitation as he witnessed that last few moment of the fight itself.

The scene before him then faded into the darkness again, "You are never so helpless unless you believe you are," his guide spoke to him. He turned to face the tom with a small nod of his head. ”Thank you.” he whispered. Then, as StarClan would have it, the tom too faded into darkness. Rowanwing, now alone, stood on the hills of the moors for a moment longer – left behind for the moment to brood within his thoughts. What had he seen? A battle, yes, something he once loved to do…the life of a warrior, something he thought he was. Now – as he stood upon the very vision of his homeland – he sank to the ground in desperation. Do you leave the life you know for that path that is less traveled? He turned again to his desires and found them still in tact…and what of what Swallowleaf had said to him on his way from camp? StarClan never said anything about him having to give up the path he had been on, and yet, in the eyes of the winds of the moor, he realized he didn’t have too.

”I may not be perfect, but I will try my best.” he murmured, watching the grasses blow in the wind. A warm blanket of comfort surrounded the tom, and as he looked on he could see the faint outlines of cats, cats he knew and cats he did not know yet. He would train Heathpaw to become a warrior, while trying to follow the path of a medicine cat. He wasn’t the first to be plucked from one destiny to another, many before him had, and many after him would be. There was always the chance for something…extraordinary…to happen. Perhaps it might yet. Suddenly exhausted, the brown tabby tom lay among the grasses and found him self falling back into darkness. ”Remember.” a soft voice whispered in his head, ”Remember.”

The call of a bird came from above as the tom started; awake now, in the early dawn’s light. He blinked, knowing what he had seen was true. They did not expect him to be a flawless Medicine Cat…but the connection still lay deep within his soul. He shuddered, feeling inferior to the place he now stood. Great power comes in many small packages, or so he would find out. The tom blinked as he found the sun to be shining brightly overhead. Slipping a smile to the pool he nodded softly to it, then turned to begin his journey back to camp. They would not force him to become a Medicine Cat, he knew this to be true, but what he had seen among the stars would haunt him forever. For now, he would try. Bits an pieces of knowledge drifted in his mind, new scent drawing on his attention as he studied the site around him. Perhaps he could live both lives…perhaps. StarClan and their cryptic messages…he was beginning to grow fond of them. They never said he could not.