Long and Lonely Road (Closed)

[Heathclaw]

(Private Thread)

Rustlestar lay curled up on the floor of the Leader's Den, his paws underneath his chin, his eyes staring at the moss curtain that concealed the den's entrance. Although the long-haired tom barely moved, it was clear that he was restless. The den's bedding had been tracked about everywhere, evidence of Rustlestar's ceaseless pacing. The tom's tail twitched every few seconds, and he was so tense that it felt like he could spring up at any second. The moon shone feebly through the curtain of moss, illuminating the den. A fox length away were two rabbits, one half-eaten.

It was Rustlestar's second night sleeping in the leader's den. His first night had been equally restless; he'd stayed awake for hours, deciding the deputy, picking mentors, holding a late night audience with Rowanwing. Tonight seemed like it would be no better.

He couldn't help but wonder and worry over whether or not he'd made the right decisions. Was it wise to let Slatepaw be a warrior apprentice, blind as he was? Should he have thought harder about who the deputy should have been? And what was he to do about Heathpaw?

Worrying like this was most unlike the fiery orange-furred leader, and he hated it, this sitting around, fussing and fretting over his actions. And yet, he felt that he had to worry about his choices. As a leader, all of his decisions would affect his clan. If WindClan cats died because of him... well, he wouldn't want that thought on his conscience.

Conscience. The word reminded him of that last cat at his leadership ceremony, the one who gave him his ninth and final life. "I don't know if you gave me a gift or a curse, Spottedleaf," the tom muttered softly.

His ears pricked up at a noise from outside of the camp; it seemed like his guest had arrived. Rustlepelt sprung up to his feet, and as he stood, the tension in his muscles seemed to slide off like the drops of rain from the now constant storm. He pushed his head out of the den, spotting the cat he was looking for by the pale moonlight.

"You're back. Please, come in. I've saved a piece of prey for you." He stepped aside, making way for the other cat, and followed him back into the den. He paused for a moment, and then spoke again. "So then, are you...?"

[faythe]

Rowanwing
His thoughts haunted him as he made his way back to camp. Moonhigh had come, and gone, as it always did and the tom himself had lingered on his way back to camp…wishing to avoid the stares of his clan mates as returned to camp from his trip to the Moonpool. Yes, he had done it; he had defied every ounce of his mindset and true desires for this moment to be worth something to his clan – to answer that small call to become something he thought himself not to be. He was WindClan’s Medicine Cat now, StarClan have mercy on him, the traitor to the warrior pledge. But he was not the first to answer the call from another life…in the past many cats of all clans had been turned from the fiercest of the warriors to the gentle and sympathetic life of the Medicine Cat. He stifled a sigh at the thought and glanced at the shadows of camp as he moved through the tall, swaying and silent, grasses of the moor to the camp itself. When he arrived he found it to be quite, most had gone to sleep in their dens on this chilly, damp and rainy, night.

The evening patrol must have already stepped out for their scents lingered at the entrances and then vanished into the grasses of the more and off toward the stream. He let out a small sigh of relief and moved through the camp and to the Medicine Cat’s den to find that the stash of herbs there had been graciously left untouched and dried – so that they would not rot – Berrypelt had been kind in this small favor. He sniffed the pile; smelling very few signs of decay, and satisfied that the supply could wait for another time…for it had been healthy enough for the moment…he eyed the bedding and with a small purr of amusement found that it had been cleaned out and cared for already…perhaps it was Swallowleaf’s doing. No. He couldn’t be so foolish, Eagleheart and Pebblefoot were guilty of that, their scents lingered in the air of the musky confinements of the small cave of the rocks core, the only covered den perhaps in camp – besides the leader’s den – and surprisingly not soaked to the core. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?

The thought of that warmed him as he glanced around and found himself recalling the many stockpiles of herbs within the rows of shelves that lined these walls. He blinked, wondering where he had acquired such knowledge, but then found that perhaps the tom he had seen had given it to him the moment that he had touched the illusion of a cat during the battle. Well, the basics were a good place to start at a time where he did not know anything at all about these said herbs before. A small sigh echoed in the confines of his new home. He eyed that shelf for a moment and sat – staring up into the darkness that loomed over it like a small omen – and then shook his head and stretched up to reach a small collection of herbs, traveling herb, how he wished that he had had these before he had gone. He’d recognized the smell of them from his own use before Berrypelt had moved on. Grabbing enough for two cats he clumsily rolled the first in a small leaf package and set it in a small crevice in the rocks beyond his small nest. The second he rolled in quick precision as he got used to the motion with the first and grabbed it gingerly within his jaws and moved into the camp again, not as stealthily as the first time.

The mud squawked as he moved in the gentle mists of the dying rain, which had let up just for the moment, he sighed at the sound and moved to Rustlestar’s den with the bundle held in place, he had the feeling the leader might need them soon. Sniffing the damp air he paused as the fiery orange furred cat burst from his den at the sound of his approach. "You're back. Please, come in. I've saved a piece of prey for you." The young tom nodded in the most thankful way he could as he felt awkward with the unusual sensation of carrying something with no weight in his mouth. He moved with his own simple grace, the aura he had held before leaving camp had changed slightly, unsure, mysterious, cryptic, to confusing to really figure out in a glance, as he made his way into his leader den and set down the herbs as Rustlestar filled in after him and spoke again, "So then, are you...?" The tom stiffened slightly at the question, looked over at his leader, and nodded silently.

”For what it counts, yes.” He chose his words carefully, deciding it best not to tell his new…if not slightly unsure leader that he was by every right what he chose to be…and being both Warrior and Medicine Cat did not fit the clans needs at the moment. There would come a time that he may just be bending the laws of the Medicine Cat and the Warrior’s Code before he was through…but that time was not for a while. ”I’ve spoken with them…” he began with a slight tilt of his head, ”…and have granted the honor.” He watched the tom then, for signs of his thoughts hidden behind his mask of cool and collected calm. ”I’ve chosen from there to do what is best for our clan.” His features slipped into a small smile as he nudged the bundle of herbs toward Rustlestar. ”I believe you will want these soon, if your impatience has anything to do with your endless pacing.” He spoke eyeing the shredded nest and a small hint of disdain. Leaving that subject at that he thought to his new apprentice…Rustlestar’s son…and looked up into the cat he stood be fore’s gaze.

Another small sigh escaped the burdened tom’s carefully held self as he began. ”Heathpaw isn’t happy with me you know…you knew what I had chosen long before the ceremony Rustlestar, was it necessary to still put him as my apprentice?” …”What if there comes a time for me to need my own apprentice? A Medicine Cat apprentice, and then what of my duties to train both as Warrior and Medicine Cat? What was he to do with the young, bitter tom who had held his father with such a light that he thought him to be a god? The newly appointed Medicine Cat didn’t know where to start with an apprentice who would have hated him even had he remained as solely a warrior. Surely Rustlestar knew this? Waiting silently, Rowanwing eased himself to a more comfortable feeling as he waited for whatever it was that needed to be said here in the rare private moment. The weather outside had begun to once again slowly drip to a worse off state than it had been. He glanced at the entrance of the den with a hint of annoyance then turned again to Rustlestar, what was next?

[Heathclaw]

Rowanwing seemed... changed somehow. It was very subtle, but it was there, a slight shift in the way the tom walked, something new hidden behing those eyes. It was impossible to say how he'd changed, but this was no longer the storyteller warrior from yesterday. That's the way, though, isn't it? The roles we play shape us in ways beyond our control, Rustlestar thought. Without thinking, his claws slid out and dug into the ground as he thought about how he, Rustlestar, had been changed by his new position as well.

Rustlestar stood tall in his den, watching Rowanwing closely as the young tom replied to his question. ”For what it counts, yes.” Rowanwing replied, somewhat stiffly. Rustlestar decided to let that slide for the moment, and allowed Rowanwing to continue. "I've spoken with them, and have granted the honor." At this point, Rowanwing shot him a look, as if looking to him for input.

Rustlestar nodded his head briefly, gave Rowanwing a brief congratulations, and fell silent again, sensing Rowanwing had more to say. "I've chosen from there to do what's best for the clan," Rowanwing concluded.

"As should we all," Rustlestar added. He turned his attention to the herbs that Rowanwing nudged forward, and his whiskers twitched. The new medicine cat was clearly not one to waste any time.

”I believe you will want these soon, if your impatience has anything to do with your endless pacing.”

Rustlestar followed Rowanwing's gaze to his nest in the back of the den, or what was left of it. Tension and anxiety he could shed like fur in Greenleaf, but his scattered bedding was impossible to conceal, and provided evidence of his restless mood. "Inaction is my mortal enemy. You know that," explained Rustlestar calmly, with the hint of a smile. The orange tom sobered quickly as the medicine cat met his eyes. He could tell what was coming next.

”Heathpaw isn’t happy with me you know…you knew what I had chosen long before the ceremony Rustlestar, was it necessary to still put him as my apprentice? … What if there comes a time for me to need my own apprentice? A Medicine Cat apprentice, and then what of my duties to train both as Warrior and Medicine Cat?”

Rustlestar sighed and sat down, tucking all four paws underneath his chest. "We're somewhat alike, you and I," he began. "Both loyal toms of WindClan, both nudged by StarClan into our current lofty... lonely positions, regardless of our wishes. Making the conscious decision to become WindClan's medicine cat required true sacrifice and bravery, and I respect you for that."

He paused for a moment, and then let out another sigh. "It seems that neither of you are happy with me at the moment. I do owe you an explanation, Rowanwing, as you seem to be the most burdened of us all."

"Heathpaw is a... strong-willed cat," Rustlestar began. "A bit stubborn and opinionated, like his father at his age. He's had to wait for several moons for his apprenticeship, and that must have been frustrating." An ugly expression flitted briefly over Rustlestar's face; he'd felt as frustrated as his kit at the time.

"On top of that, he's had to suffer a second disappointment. I believe that he was quite determined to be my apprentice... but I couldn't let that happen. I'd be much too soft on him." Unlike my father, Rustlestar added silently. "To be a true WindClan warrior, one must face and overcome challenges and difficulties."

"Honestly, I chose you to be Heathpaw's mentor for a reason. In time, the two of you will both see that you're the perfect cat for the job. I trust in your abilities, and I know my son, he'll warm up to you eventually."

Rustlestar stood up and padded towards the den entrance, throwing one last comment over his shoulder.

"If things truly become a burden for you later on in the road, and you find you can't continue training him, then I'll take him off your hands. I'll leave that up to you and your judgment."

He stuck his head out of the curtain, and then yanked it straight back, fur soaking wet. "Wonderful weather we've been having these past few moons," Rustlestar muttered sarcastically. "Tomorrow looks like it'll be quite an adventure."