Post by Fawn on Jun 6, 2013 10:49:25 GMT -5
ZUMA! 19 Moons || Tom || In Love With Brokensong
It had taken three whole days for Lionstar to eventually make up his mind, and in those three thrilling days Zuma had spent answering questions, defending his right to be by Brokensong's side, skirting several discussions involving his past, and helping to rebuild the camp even when others hissed at him with distrust or fear. After the third day, however, Zuma's presence in the camp seemed almost like the norm - considering everyone smelled the same (like ash and burnt vegetation), it was difficult to detect any tell tale signs that he wasn't like every other Clanmate with the exception of his name. It was a word the kits had apparently grown to like, as they would all rush up to him if he brought back fresh kill, chanting 'Zuma! Zuma!' like it was some sort of special word, it being the only name in their vocabulary that wasn't a two-part name like the rest of TreeClan.
Despite having never been around many kits, Zuma had played with them as gently as if they were his own - that is, until their mothers came out of the nursery looking for blood, shooing the 'strange cat' away despite the protest of their offspring that he was fun. Zuma wasn't particularly bothered by this, however, as he felt quite optimistic that eventually, given enough time they would gradually warm up to him. They didn't really have a choice, now did they? He was never going to leave, not so long as Brokensong still needed him.
It was whilst he was gently grooming the tortoiseshell fur of the cat he loved that Lionstar finally approached him, the sunhigh heat bearing down on the tom's golden pelt and making him glow, the leader having returned to his former soot-free state.
"Your ceremony will be held at moonhigh tonight, and it will be private." Amber eyes settled on Brokensong, "She can attend, of course." And with that, Lionstar bounded away to go organize the patrols and continue the rebuilding of TreeClan's camp.
After a brief (and one-sided) consultation with Brokensong, Zuma was soon under the impression that a ceremony such as this one did not happen on a regular basis, if at all. Well that was just fine with him. Whatever made him officially a part of the Clan, he was perfectly okay with.
Upon the arrival of moonhigh, the whitish gray orb casting a long trajectory of moonlight into the scorched remains of TreeClan's camp, Zuma was able to stand in front of the Ancient Stump with a feeling of accomplishment, jittery nerves, and pride. Brokensong sat nearby, both of their pelts glowing silver, his eyes lit amber in the dark as he gazed around the camp; this is going to be my new home. I guess it makes sense that I had a paw in rebuilding it then, eh? He'd put his blood and sweat and tears into the reconstruction, just like the rest of them - no one had any right to say he didn't belong. Not anymore, and especially not after tonight.
Feeling a ripple of excitement pass through him, Zuma stood on ceremony as Lionstar finally exited his den and jumped up onto the massive, fire-scorched stump, the ancient remains of what had once been a proud and immense tree had survived the fire with little damage. The tawny tabby standing below glanced on either side of Lionstar as four other cats approached - two on either side of the stump, sitting with their expressions fixed in a look of neutrality. To Lionstar's left, sat Stormchaser and Daringheart, his best friends and the latter being his deputy. To Lionstar's right, sat Featherpaw and Bramblestrike, his apprentice and a warrior whose significance Zuma was not yet aware of.
"After much consideration, we have agreed to allow you to join the Clan, if you still wish to, that is."
Lionstar's voice rumbled from somewhere behind a thick golden mane, and Zuma instantly straightened, flashing the older tom a grin.
"I do."
The leader nodded, gripping his claws into the scorched stump.
"Then, with these four cats and StarClan to witness the ceremony, we shall begin. Are there any that oppose this decision?"
Zuma stole a glance at Featherpaw, who grumbled something under her breath but otherwise remained silent, his attention gradually slipping to the tom he did not know very well, Bramblestrike. The fourth member spoke up.
"I do not oppose it, but I am not in favor of it either - I do not entirely trust this cat who showed up out of nowhere. If he proves loyal then it won't be a problem, but if this lifestyle does not work out for him, then I won't say I told you so."
Zuma's teeth flashed in the moonlight as he grinned, locking eyes with the other tom. Before he could make much of a retaliation - and he definitely had a few choice words for Brambledoubt over here - Lionstar cleared his throat.
"Noted." The golden tom seemed to gather strength just then, as if drawing upon some invisible force as he spoke again, this time words that rang true of what a proper ceremony should be, apparently not deterred by Bramblestrike's lack of confidence on the subject.
"Spirits of StarClan, you know every Clan cat by name. I ask you now to look upon one who is not of this Clan by birth, but by heart and spirit instead, and deem him worthy." Lionstar's expression was stoic but not judgmental as he fixed his gaze upon him.
"Zuma, do you swear to abandon the life you led as a loner and embrace the ways of our Clan and creed?"
"I do." He replied without a moment's hesitation. He had been ready to give up his old life from the moment he'd met Brokensong.
Lionstar continued.
"Do you swear to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your new Clan, even at the cost of your life?"
"I do." Zuma spoke again, truly meaning it. Lionstar seemed to sense his sincerity, because the next words he spoke were of the finalizing sort, and delivered with eloquent finesse of a cat who was almost sounded glad to speak those words, as if a great weight had been lifted from the tom's golden-ticked shoulders.
"Then I, Lionstar, Leader of TreeClan, call upon our warrior ancestors to take away the name from the cat you see before you, for it no longer stands for who he is. By my authority as Clan leader, and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name and welcome him into the Clan. From this moment on he will be known as Zephyrfang, fully recognized as a warrior of TreeClan."
Eyes widening, Zuma's heart skipped a beat as the full weight of the moment seemed to crash over him, and when the mighty lion dropped down from the Ancient Stump to greet him, he was momentarily unsure of what to do or how to receive him. Lionstar's eyes glinted, instructing him further in a quiet murmur; "Lower your head and lick my shoulder."
Eagerly doing as he was told, the proud tawny tom tilted down his chin, eyes instinctively closing as Lionstar rested the top of his chin upon Zuma's head, the newly made Clan cat licking Lionstar's shoulder in response.
"Welcome to the Clan, Zephyrfang." Lionstar's expression evened into a faint smile, and Zuma grinned back. "Thanks."
The leader's words were echoed again, however, by each cat that approached him.
"Welcome to the Clan... Zephyrfang." Spoke Bramblestrike when it was his turn in line - the hesitation and begrudging acceptance all there in his eyes. Zephyrfang accepted those words coolly, dipping his muzzle to the cat he guessed to be slightly older than him - catching the way Bramblestrike's eyes seemed to dart over to Brokensong.
Oh. That was why. ...poor tom.
Well, he could feel sympathetic later - as of right now, the brand new member of TreeClan was in a celebratory mood, the somberness of the situation lifting, a lack of opposition from StarClan to be received only as good news about this decision as a whole. Purring loudly enough he was almost certain he'd wake the rest of his Clanmates, Zephyrfang broke free of the other cats to meet Brokensong, his expression full of warmth and happiness and love, all glittering out of his handsome, tabby-marked face.
"Who sleeps next to you in the warriors' den? You're gonna have to tell 'em to move over, Song, because that's my spot." The tawny tabby felt a thrill of excitement rip through him just then, reaching forward to nuzzle her affectionately.
My spot. My Clan. My fresh start.
And soon enough, if everything went right, if she sufficiently recovered from the death of her father and his past did not resurface... Zuma would be adding another "My" to that list:
My Mate, and maybe even My family.
Despite having never been around many kits, Zuma had played with them as gently as if they were his own - that is, until their mothers came out of the nursery looking for blood, shooing the 'strange cat' away despite the protest of their offspring that he was fun. Zuma wasn't particularly bothered by this, however, as he felt quite optimistic that eventually, given enough time they would gradually warm up to him. They didn't really have a choice, now did they? He was never going to leave, not so long as Brokensong still needed him.
It was whilst he was gently grooming the tortoiseshell fur of the cat he loved that Lionstar finally approached him, the sunhigh heat bearing down on the tom's golden pelt and making him glow, the leader having returned to his former soot-free state.
"Your ceremony will be held at moonhigh tonight, and it will be private." Amber eyes settled on Brokensong, "She can attend, of course." And with that, Lionstar bounded away to go organize the patrols and continue the rebuilding of TreeClan's camp.
After a brief (and one-sided) consultation with Brokensong, Zuma was soon under the impression that a ceremony such as this one did not happen on a regular basis, if at all. Well that was just fine with him. Whatever made him officially a part of the Clan, he was perfectly okay with.
~*~
Upon the arrival of moonhigh, the whitish gray orb casting a long trajectory of moonlight into the scorched remains of TreeClan's camp, Zuma was able to stand in front of the Ancient Stump with a feeling of accomplishment, jittery nerves, and pride. Brokensong sat nearby, both of their pelts glowing silver, his eyes lit amber in the dark as he gazed around the camp; this is going to be my new home. I guess it makes sense that I had a paw in rebuilding it then, eh? He'd put his blood and sweat and tears into the reconstruction, just like the rest of them - no one had any right to say he didn't belong. Not anymore, and especially not after tonight.
Feeling a ripple of excitement pass through him, Zuma stood on ceremony as Lionstar finally exited his den and jumped up onto the massive, fire-scorched stump, the ancient remains of what had once been a proud and immense tree had survived the fire with little damage. The tawny tabby standing below glanced on either side of Lionstar as four other cats approached - two on either side of the stump, sitting with their expressions fixed in a look of neutrality. To Lionstar's left, sat Stormchaser and Daringheart, his best friends and the latter being his deputy. To Lionstar's right, sat Featherpaw and Bramblestrike, his apprentice and a warrior whose significance Zuma was not yet aware of.
"After much consideration, we have agreed to allow you to join the Clan, if you still wish to, that is."
Lionstar's voice rumbled from somewhere behind a thick golden mane, and Zuma instantly straightened, flashing the older tom a grin.
"I do."
The leader nodded, gripping his claws into the scorched stump.
"Then, with these four cats and StarClan to witness the ceremony, we shall begin. Are there any that oppose this decision?"
Zuma stole a glance at Featherpaw, who grumbled something under her breath but otherwise remained silent, his attention gradually slipping to the tom he did not know very well, Bramblestrike. The fourth member spoke up.
"I do not oppose it, but I am not in favor of it either - I do not entirely trust this cat who showed up out of nowhere. If he proves loyal then it won't be a problem, but if this lifestyle does not work out for him, then I won't say I told you so."
Zuma's teeth flashed in the moonlight as he grinned, locking eyes with the other tom. Before he could make much of a retaliation - and he definitely had a few choice words for Brambledoubt over here - Lionstar cleared his throat.
"Noted." The golden tom seemed to gather strength just then, as if drawing upon some invisible force as he spoke again, this time words that rang true of what a proper ceremony should be, apparently not deterred by Bramblestrike's lack of confidence on the subject.
"Spirits of StarClan, you know every Clan cat by name. I ask you now to look upon one who is not of this Clan by birth, but by heart and spirit instead, and deem him worthy." Lionstar's expression was stoic but not judgmental as he fixed his gaze upon him.
"Zuma, do you swear to abandon the life you led as a loner and embrace the ways of our Clan and creed?"
"I do." He replied without a moment's hesitation. He had been ready to give up his old life from the moment he'd met Brokensong.
Lionstar continued.
"Do you swear to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your new Clan, even at the cost of your life?"
"I do." Zuma spoke again, truly meaning it. Lionstar seemed to sense his sincerity, because the next words he spoke were of the finalizing sort, and delivered with eloquent finesse of a cat who was almost sounded glad to speak those words, as if a great weight had been lifted from the tom's golden-ticked shoulders.
"Then I, Lionstar, Leader of TreeClan, call upon our warrior ancestors to take away the name from the cat you see before you, for it no longer stands for who he is. By my authority as Clan leader, and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name and welcome him into the Clan. From this moment on he will be known as Zephyrfang, fully recognized as a warrior of TreeClan."
Eyes widening, Zuma's heart skipped a beat as the full weight of the moment seemed to crash over him, and when the mighty lion dropped down from the Ancient Stump to greet him, he was momentarily unsure of what to do or how to receive him. Lionstar's eyes glinted, instructing him further in a quiet murmur; "Lower your head and lick my shoulder."
Eagerly doing as he was told, the proud tawny tom tilted down his chin, eyes instinctively closing as Lionstar rested the top of his chin upon Zuma's head, the newly made Clan cat licking Lionstar's shoulder in response.
"Welcome to the Clan, Zephyrfang." Lionstar's expression evened into a faint smile, and Zuma grinned back. "Thanks."
The leader's words were echoed again, however, by each cat that approached him.
"Welcome to the Clan... Zephyrfang." Spoke Bramblestrike when it was his turn in line - the hesitation and begrudging acceptance all there in his eyes. Zephyrfang accepted those words coolly, dipping his muzzle to the cat he guessed to be slightly older than him - catching the way Bramblestrike's eyes seemed to dart over to Brokensong.
Oh. That was why. ...poor tom.
Well, he could feel sympathetic later - as of right now, the brand new member of TreeClan was in a celebratory mood, the somberness of the situation lifting, a lack of opposition from StarClan to be received only as good news about this decision as a whole. Purring loudly enough he was almost certain he'd wake the rest of his Clanmates, Zephyrfang broke free of the other cats to meet Brokensong, his expression full of warmth and happiness and love, all glittering out of his handsome, tabby-marked face.
"Who sleeps next to you in the warriors' den? You're gonna have to tell 'em to move over, Song, because that's my spot." The tawny tabby felt a thrill of excitement rip through him just then, reaching forward to nuzzle her affectionately.
My spot. My Clan. My fresh start.
And soon enough, if everything went right, if she sufficiently recovered from the death of her father and his past did not resurface... Zuma would be adding another "My" to that list:
My Mate, and maybe even My family.
