[Fawn]

LionstAr

blinded by the light of a new sun
take it to the world, gonna sing it like an anthem

The last time he had felt like himself had been two days ago. Two days ago, Meadowleaf had died bringing her kits into this world - two little toms, one ginger and white, the other black and white. Two days ago, Meadowleaf's mate, Nightshade, had succumbed to greencough.

Dead Clanmates, orphaned kits, and exhausted medicine cats. The major trials TreeClan faced had been enough to put Lionstar's health to the back of his mind, no matter how much his joints ached and his chest felt tight with congestion. An already immensely sad situation had turned dire for the two kits, when Bluejay informed him that they did not have any nursing queens that could raise them.

Lionstar had sent warriors to every Clan, anxious to hear if any had nursing queens. StoneClan's envoy came back without good news, as did NightClan's and LightningClan's. It was by the grace of StarClan that RainClan's envoy did not return home to condemn the kits to an early death.

There was a nursing queen in RainClan, and Stormstar had arranged Rushwhisker to meet with him in StarClan's Claws to discuss the newborn kits. Lionstar regretted not going personally - it would be his first dealing with Stormstar outside of a gathering - but Gorsetail was a loyal, trustworthy deputy. A compassionate cat who would have the kits' best interests at heart - and make sure RainClan did as well.

Before the day could end, Flamekit and Pantherkit (named thusly by Falconstorm), had been carried far from TreeClan by Gorsetail and Magpiewing, to be taken care of by a RainClan queen whose name he later learned was Echoshade. Lionstar had ordered Magpiewing to stay with RainClan in order to provide for the queen and ensure the two TreeClan kits did not forget their heritage. It was a situation that made him uneasy, but he could afford no other alternative.

So Gorsetail had returned alone. No kits. No Magpiewing.

And after a lengthy discussion, Lionstar had fallen into a feverish, troubled sleep.

He dreamed of the forest fire. The heat. The smoke stinging his eyes and nose. StarClan, the heat. Writhing against the flames that licked at his fur, Lionstar was lost to a world of distant shapes and violent colors. His muscles shivered, limbs twitching. He thought he saw Honeysong amidst the flames, and Ravenpaw. No sooner had he called out to them - forced to choose between the two - than the forest had caved in around him.

He was choking. The breath driven from his body. Lionstar writhed in his nest, his eyes roving frantically beneath their lids, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. He caught a glimpse of wooden walls, and in his fevered haze, he tried to get up - but his body was so heavy. Too heavy to move. Too tired. Too hot.

A familiar scent wreathed around him, and Lionstar began to calm. His breathing eased, body going through one last gasp - then relief - as he lost a piece of himself to the fever.

He came back to consciousness in a forest of stars, his mother's scent clinging to his pelt. A soft mrrow sounded in his ear, and he rose on unsteady paws to see Sandfur gazing at him, Bluestorm standing beside her. Just as he had done in life.

"Mother," Lionstar forgot himself in his surprise, and took an eager step towards her - until the weight of seeing her here finally sunk in. The Clan leader's shoulders lowered, and that seemed to take more life out of him than the greencough. "I'm sorry. I wasn't there..." He hadn't been with her in her last moments.

"Honeysong was," replied Sandfur with a gentle purr, her golden eyes coming to rest on him with so much maternal affection, he felt like a kit again. "She stayed beside me - and Bluestorm - until we joined StarClan. And she would have stayed with you too, if she'd known."

Lionstar's heart stung, touched by his old friend's compassion for his parent. "I know," he whispered, and felt the urge, stronger than ever, to go home.

"You need to be careful, Lionstar." Bluestorm's deep mew was strong, no trace of sickness any longer. "Your lives were not given to you to be thrown away like old bones."

Sandfur stepped close, and rubbed her cheek against his. "Do not let your fears make you act rashly, Lionstar. Have faith in others. Have faith in your Clan. You have led them well, but you still have so many moons to go."

Lionstar drew himself up, shoulders back, posture straightening into the leader he was always trying to be. And yet he still felt tired. So many moons to go.... He was not eager for death, but the stresses of this life were weighing on him more and more each season. Sandfur's gaze softened, and she smiled at him, as if she knew something he didn't.

"Don't make that face, Lionstar. You have many moons to go, but you will not walk them alone."

Another scent, this time not Sandfur's, drifted around him as if brought in on a summer's breeze. Honeysong.

Lionstar's eyes widened, and he found himself smiling. "I understand."

"Good," said Bluestorm. "It's only been seasons upon seasons."

Before Lionstar could offer any kind of reply (cheeky or otherwise), the images of Bluestorm and Sandfur began to fade, their bodies blending into the stars as his spirit began its descent home. Lionstar took in a deep, clean breath of the crisp starry air, and felt himself revived. Yet his ears pricked, watching with surprise as a tall silver-furred warrior approached from the encroaching mists.

It was Badgerstripe. His father.

Lionstar moved in to meet him, his expression cautious but eager. They had not had long to know each other, and his opinion of his father had been tarnished by the kits Badgerstripe sired outside of his relationship with Sandfur, but Lionstar could not find it in his heart to greet Badgerstripe with anything other than respect. A little emotional distance, but respect. He had been deputy after all.

Badgerstripe gazed at him, silent for a couple of heartbeats, before he spoke. "Watch for Frost."

Frost? It was practically Greenleaf. The questions he wanted to ask his father were still fresh on his mind when he awoke, his soul renewed, in the moss-strewn interior of the Ancient Stump.

Lionstar rose quickly, and gathered up all of the moss in his den. There was much he needed to do, but first things first, getting rid of any traces of sickness; greencough would trouble him no more this season.

leader of TreeClan

1,087 Words | Phoenix , Justice , @zen | notes

so alive | background image | table by phoenix