Post by Katara on Jun 24, 2021 22:31:02 GMT -5
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if i was born as a blackthorn tree
i'd wanna be held by you, felled by you
fuel the
If there was one thing Clovermask despised, it was vigils for fallen warriors. For the first time, she was expected to sit vigil for someone for as long as she was able to, and even though she was able to listen to her Clanmates murmuring around her, exchanging stories, she was certain she had never been so bored in her life. If it was totally up to her, she'd have been on her way to the Moon Tree as soon as she'd returned with Darkstar's body. But, unfortunately, tradition demanded her presence here, and she had been patient for many moons now - she could wait a few more hours. When the sun began its descent toward the horizon, she began to make her way among her Clan, pausing to have brief exchanges with several cats and attempting to feign sympathy as best as she could. Finally, she found Shadowchaser, and for a second she did regret a little bit that she would have to tear him away from his sister's vigil. But they had a long journey to make - made even longer since they were on the very edge of their territory - and they would have to leave now if they wanted to make it to the Moon Tree before moonhigh.
She had only been to the sacred place once, and only then as an escort several seasons ago. She did not remember the path well, and had to let Shadowchaser take the lead as they drew closer to the mountains. They spoke little, which gave Clovermask plenty of time to think and wonder what the nine lives ceremony was like. She'd heard stories about it, but she knew now they were straight from the elders' and queens' imaginations: Clan leaders were forbidden to share the experience of the ceremony. For the first time, she wondered if this would work for her. She had never rejected StarClan, per say, but she was skeptical enough of the scope of their power that she wondered if it might affect her experience at the Moon Tree.
She would certainly find her answer soon enough. The moon was floating high in the sky by the time Shadowchaser led them through a crack in the stone, which revealed the cavern in which the Moon Tree grew. When she climbed down and looked up to observe her surroundings, her eyes widened in amazement at the sight of the glistening tree before her. She looked between the tree and her companion, impressed for a moment that the black tom saw this incredible sight all the time. "Nobody ever told me it was beautiful," she noted. Maybe it was a good thing, or her wanderings may have taken her here.
After taking instructions from Shadowchaser, Clovermask moved toward the Moon Tree and found a spot among the roots to curl up. She shivered at the cold touch of the ice all around her, the iciness seeming to spread through her at an alarming rate. She didn't have to summon sleep to her when she laid her head on her paws - it came to her within moments.
Darkness slammed on her vision, and for several long moments it was all she could see, even while she was aware that she was awake... somewhere. Had something gone wrong? Was StarClan not going to visit her dreams after all? She was about to try to make herself wake so she could demand her questions from Shadowchaser, when silvery-blue light bloomed before her eyes, and one-by-one the figures of cats appeared in a small crowd around her.
"Welcome, Clovermask." All of them spoke at once, their joined voices resulting in an eerie quality. Clovermask looked at each of them closely and, as she did, color began to spread through their glowing, misty pelts, and she realized she recognized several of these cats. "Your old life has been stripped away so that you may receive nine new ones. Are you ready?"
I have been ready for this all my life, she thought, lifting her chin proudly. "I am," she confirmed.
The crowd separated, and the first cat to step toward her was a cat she had known only for her weakness. Nonetheless, she dipped her head toward the former NightClan leader with respect. "Foxstar," she greeted her evenly.
The red-furred warrior stopped in front of her, regarding her carefully. "You may remove your mask now," she said, not unkindly. "We have been watching you, Clovermask, and we are here now to grant you the nine lives of a leader. There is nothing that is hidden from StarClan."
Clovermask sincerely doubted that, but decided to give her the benefit. "What are you trying to say? That despite who I am, you will still make me leader?"
Foxstar did not waver. "Yes. Despite who you are, I believe you have the merits that will make you a great leader. But it was never a question of whether or not you'd make a good leader. It was always a question of whether you are what NightClan needs."
Clovermask lifted a paw, examining her claws. "Would you say you were what NightClan needed?"
The former leader's eyes hardened a fraction. "You and Darkstar are alike in many ways - two sides of the same stone. But where she was hot-tempered and forward, you are cool-headed and sly." Without warning, Foxstar closed the distance between them and pressed her nose to Clovermask's. "With this life, I give you honesty. May you possess the wisdom to be honest with others, and honest with yourself."
The life rushed through Clovermask, startling her with the searing pain of it, as if brutal honesty were a physical thing. At the same time, images flickered before her eyes: Foxstar, marking the TreeClan border, glancing away from her warriors' expectant gazes as they patrolled the land their rival Clan had stolen; Foxstar, in her last moments, unable to help NightClan as it falls into disarray; Clovermask now, deceiving her way through each day in her Clan, until suddenly a black figure leaps directly at her, viciously claws stretched toward her throat.
Just as quickly as the vision came, it disappeared, leaving Clovermask winded and shaken. "What was that?!" she demanded.
"If you are not honest, your Clan will turn against you," Foxstar warned. "You may think you fool everyone you encounter, but there are more cats than you think that have seen through your mask. You must be honest with yourself, and with what NightClan needs from you, or your Clanmates will turn on you."
It took everything in Clovermask not to leap at Foxstar. Who was she to warn her about being honest, as if she hadn't spent seasons upon seasons ignoring the truth of the fact TreeClan had stolen their rightful territory! But then logic settled in, and slowly she sheathed her claws. That had been the point of Foxstar's warning.
Before she could say another word, the she-cat had melted into the crowd, and another cat strode forward to take her place. This was a tom she did not recognize - he was a slender brown tabby, with bright blue eyes, and he inclined his head slightly as he approached. "You will not know me," he mewed, "but I was a medicine cat of NightClan a very long time ago." Without further explanation, he touched his nose to hers. "With this life, I give you mercy. When dealing with matters of life and death, there is no such thing as weak or strong. The strongest warriors can be taken by illness or injury any day, and the weakest kit can change the course of fate in moons to come."
This life was even more painful than the last, as if it encompassed the terror and pain of a warrior staring in the face of death. A brief flickering of images revealed the medicine cat and another tom, ill and starving, being coaxed to eat a mixture of herbs by a young, gray-furred she-cat.
By the time Clovermask recovered, the slender tom was already disappearing back into the crowd he’d emerged from. He was replaced by a familiar face this time: Hollowmask, the young cat who’d been murdered by Deathclaw herself. He stepped toward Clovermask to touch her nose, and began to speak: “I give you a life for loyalty and courage. You will never need to worry about the loyalty of others if you’re loyal to your Clan. Having the courage to make sacrifices for them will make both you and NightClan stronger.”
This life rushed fiercely through her, filled with passion and excitement, and a fast-beating heart filled with adrenaline. She saw images of cats helping each other, thrusting each other out of the path of danger as the snarls of Demon echoed around them. The last thing she heard was the terrifying screech of the Owl Queen.
When she opened her eyes again, Hollowmask was looking away from her. She shivered, the last moments of the young tom’s life still lingering with her. “NightClan will always remember you, as long as I am leader,” she promised. She didn’t know why she said it. But the stiffness in Hollowmask’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned away to disappear among the other cats gathered.
A moment later, another unfamiliar tom padded toward her, this one small in build and gray-furred. “My name is Palefire,” he introduced himself. “I was Starlingcry’s brother.” He looked quite small and meek, making Clovermask wonder how he ever could’ve been in the same litter as the old, formidable warrior that was Starlingcry. He gently touched his nose to hers. “I give you this life for humility and compassion. Try to understand what motivates others, and take a moment to imagine what life is like in their paws, and let that guide your relationship with them.”
She was surprised, at first, that this life came to her filled with warmth and joy. And then, just like that, she felt the next rush of emotions—pain, terror, fury, despair, heartache, betrayal. Some of them were emotions she’d never felt before, maybe never would again. She stepped away, her head whirling from the sudden onslaught, and just caught Palefire’s last words:
“Your Clanmates sense the emptiness in your interactions with them. If they fail to believe you are sincere, they will lose faith in you.”
To say she was stunned at this would be an understatement. All that time she’d spent pretending to listen to them and care about their lives… they had known she was pretending? Relax, she thought. Even if they had known she was pretending, she had done it so she could climb her way to leadership—and it had worked. If she had to try a different direction in order to win their trust, then she’d do it. A Clan that didn’t trust her was useless to her.
The cat that replaced Palefire was familiar to her, and what a sight he was. Sleek black fur from head to tail, yet still covered in his battle scars, Blackwolf still radiated the power he had in life. She had looked up to him when she was young, and was terribly jealous of Darkstar when the pair of them were apprentices together—because she’d claimed the honor of being his apprentice. There was something burning in his eyes, and for the first time she wondered if any of these cats were angry with her. She had, after all, succeeded a leader who had been given her nine lives not too long ago. Would they blame her for Darkstar’s leadership ending so soon?
But Blackwolf said nothing until he lowered his head to her level to touch her nose roughly. “With this life, I give you justice. When others wrong you or NightClan, it will be up to you to make it right. You are more level-headed than Darkstar, but don’t let that stop you from taking offense where offense should be taken. You believe peace is more advantageous than battle. But your warriors will never forgive you if you place peace ahead of NightClan’s honor and pride. Never become complacent.”
This life howled through her, her ears filled with the wailing of grieving mothers and the battle cries of vengeful warriors. She saw images of warriors flying across borders, challenging their rival Clan, and succeeding. When Blackwolf stepped away, she felt full of power. This was a worthy gift.
The next cat to slip out of the crowd was a cat she had never seen before, but was able to recognize by description alone. It was like she was looking at her reflection in the water, though the queen’s pelt was a shade or two lighter and richer than her own, and her eyes glowed with a deep amber hue.
“I am Goldensky,” she purred, stepping forward to greet Clovermask, “and I am your mother.”
Clovermask blinked at her slowly, feeling something close to anger unfurling inside her. “And what gift have you come to give me?” she asked icily.
Goldensky looked taken aback. “Are you angry with me?”
“Yes!” she spat, then considered. “…No! I don’t know.” She didn’t know how to feel about meeting her mother for the first time. She could faintly remember growing up as a kit, jealous of the other kits who had mothers. She’d despised them for it, like it was their fault they had mothers and she didn’t. “You should have been there—you abandoned me!”
Goldensky was looking at her paws. “It was my time to join StarClan… I didn’t have a choice, love.”
Clovermask ignored her. “You wanted to be with the other kits more, didn’t you?”
“The other kits?”
“The ones that died with you!” She didn’t know why she was so upset. She’d rarely thought of her mother in the past—why would she? She was dead. But seeing her now seemed to awaken a horrible knot of emotions she couldn’t begin to untangle.
Goldensky did not respond, and instead tried to press her muzzle toward her daughter’s, but Clovermask dodged her. “Tell me!” she demanded.
Her mother shifted her paws, and didn’t speak for a long moment. When she finally lifted her head though, there was an iciness Clovermask didn’t expect to see. “You are being selfish,” she said coldly. “Try to remember that I died, and you were lucky enough to live. Now stand still, and I will give you the gift you deserve least.”
Clovermask glared at her, but didn’t move as Goldensky thrust her muzzle forward to give her a life. “With this life, I give you love. Remember that love is something that is given, not something that is taken. You have made and will continue to make mistakes, but if you put your heart into this, my daughter, you will redeem yourself one day. And you may even be loved.”
As she began to speak, Goldensky’s life coursed through her, and it was the most painful one yet. She saw images of cats embracing each other in secret, saw the fierce devotion between two mates at the beginning of their lives together, and at the end. She saw countless queens yowling in agony as they gave birth. She saw the pride of those same queens as they watched their kits grow into apprentices, and then warriors.
She realized she didn’t feel pain from the gift—she felt pain because she had never wanted anything so badly in her life. She wanted to be loved with every fiber of her being, and she hated it.
Clovermask sprang away from Goldensky as soon as the life had been given, and glared away from her as her mother tried to catch her eye.
“For what it’s worth,” she heard her say quietly, “I’m proud of you.”
Clovermask didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t look up again until she sensed someone else’s approach, whom she turned to face to accept her next life.
He was vaguely familiar, and she felt certain this tom had died when she was still an apprentice, or younger. He was a powerful-looking brown warrior with a long scar that circled around his throat. “My name is Oakshadow,” he began, meeting her eyes, and then she knew immediately who he was. His eyes were the same shade of green as her own. He did not offer further introduction as he pressed his nose to hers. “With this life, I give you honor. Use it to guide all your actions and decisions, and you will be respected by not only NightClan, but all the Clans in the valley.”
Clovermask closed her eyes as she received this life, embracing it. That was what she wanted—she wanted everyone’s respect, not just NightClan’s. This life showed her images of many moons of Gatherings, of shining eyes peering up at her as she stood above them. She saw all five Clan leaders together, comfortably, with flattened fur and relaxed shoulders. She saw the glitter of starlight that glistened on the Moon Tree itself, and felt the wonder that came with it.
When she stepped back again, she stumbled, beginning to feel overwhelmed by how the sheer amount of life within her. But her ceremony wasn’t over yet—she still had two lives left to receive. She was still breathless when Briarthroat made his way toward her, bending his head to touch her nose. “I will give you the same gift I once gave to Darkstar. With this life, I give you clarity. Do not allow your obsessions and fixations to distract you from your duty of leading your Clan.”
Briarthroat didn’t need to plant predictions in her head to make his point when she already had her own memories. She saw Shrikesong, over and over, how they’d met in secret at their shared border, when she’d spent days prowling the scent line, itching to cross over and find out what Shrikesong was doing. When she’d found out about her kits, and Darkstone, and how blinded by betrayal she’d been. There were seasons of her life where she was barely involved in her Clan, because she was so fixated on Shrikesong.
This life filled her with aching and longing, and it still tingled inside her when Briarthroat pulled away. She wouldn’t meet his eyes as the former deputy moved back into the crowd, and when she looked up it was Darkstar who prowled toward her. Her pelt was no longer sodden and bedraggled, but sleek and healthy with speckles of starlight. Her golden eyes burned, and she had the feeling the former NightClan leader was looking at her, and truly seeing her, for the first time.
“You,” she said, “are not the cat I thought you were.” Her tone held an accusation to it. “If I had known you were padding after some she-cat in TreeClan, I’d have never made you my deputy. Tell me: How do you think that relationship will go for you?”
“I am not padding after her,” Clovermask retorted. “It’s not like that. I just wanted—“
“Save it,” Darkstar interrupted. “I don’t care. If Briarthroat hadn’t already given you a life for clarity, I’d have given it to you myself. I’ll tell you how that relationship will go—you will end it. You will never meet her again, you will never speak to her again, and you will never think about her again, or I will haunt you until you take your last breath. I did not take my Clan to war only to hand over the reins to some TreeClan-obsessed fool seasons later.”
“That part of my life is over,” said Clovermask, as evenly as she could. “NightClan has been my only focus for seasons now.”
“She means nothing to you. Say it,” Darkstar demanded.
Clovermask had always found lying to be very easy, but this was a harder one to tell. Still, she made sure she met Darkstar’s blazing eyes as she answered her with an unwavering voice: “Shrikesong means nothing to me.”
Darkstar stared at her hard for a long moment, and then finally gave a short nod. “I do believe you would never betray NightClan. That will have to be enough.” Her tone was curt, and her eyes held nothing of the faint respect they once had. She touched her nose to Clovermask’s, and gave her the ninth life of a Clan leader. “With this life, I give you ferocity. You are a thing of restraint, but sometimes restraint is not necessary when your Clan is demanding passion and a show of power from you. Do not hesitate to bare your fangs and unsheathe your claws at NightClan’s enemies, or your hesitance may cost you lives.”
This life was burning, scorching fire, and showed her the last few moments of Darkstar’s life—her straining against the tree with all the power within her and more, her lack of hesitation saving the lives of her Clanmates. She heard battlecries and smelled the stench of bloodshed as she leaped into a fight where she knew she could die—and not caring, as long as it’s in defense of her Clan.
Clovermask gasped as Darkstar tore away from her, as if she couldn’t stand touching her for a second longer. She wondered why she had agreed to give her a life when she appeared to despise her so much. She raised her tail and her voice as she went on, “I now hail you by your new name: Cloverstar! Your old life is no more—you have received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of NightClan. Protect your Clan, fight for it; care for the young and the old; look to your warrior ancestors for guidance and honor the traditions of the warrior code. Live each of your lives with wisdom and compassion, and your reign will last for many seasons.”
Her new name was echoed among the small crowd behind her as the other StarClan cats took up the chant. “Cloverstar, Cloverstar!”
The new leader of NightClan raised her chin proudly, feeling the power of nine lives course through her, and the satisfaction of finally having achieved one of her greatest goals. She did not miss the hard look in Darkstar’s eyes even as she chanted her new name.
Cloverstar didn’t care. I am leader now… you don’t matter anymore, and you will be forgotten in the shadow of my rule.
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if i was born as a blackthorn tree
i'd wanna be held by you, felled by you
fuel the
PYRE OF YOUR
enemies
enemies
clover
clovermask.
NIGHTCLAN DEPUTY // 51 MOONS
I
She had only been to the sacred place once, and only then as an escort several seasons ago. She did not remember the path well, and had to let Shadowchaser take the lead as they drew closer to the mountains. They spoke little, which gave Clovermask plenty of time to think and wonder what the nine lives ceremony was like. She'd heard stories about it, but she knew now they were straight from the elders' and queens' imaginations: Clan leaders were forbidden to share the experience of the ceremony. For the first time, she wondered if this would work for her. She had never rejected StarClan, per say, but she was skeptical enough of the scope of their power that she wondered if it might affect her experience at the Moon Tree.
She would certainly find her answer soon enough. The moon was floating high in the sky by the time Shadowchaser led them through a crack in the stone, which revealed the cavern in which the Moon Tree grew. When she climbed down and looked up to observe her surroundings, her eyes widened in amazement at the sight of the glistening tree before her. She looked between the tree and her companion, impressed for a moment that the black tom saw this incredible sight all the time. "Nobody ever told me it was beautiful," she noted. Maybe it was a good thing, or her wanderings may have taken her here.
After taking instructions from Shadowchaser, Clovermask moved toward the Moon Tree and found a spot among the roots to curl up. She shivered at the cold touch of the ice all around her, the iciness seeming to spread through her at an alarming rate. She didn't have to summon sleep to her when she laid her head on her paws - it came to her within moments.
Darkness slammed on her vision, and for several long moments it was all she could see, even while she was aware that she was awake... somewhere. Had something gone wrong? Was StarClan not going to visit her dreams after all? She was about to try to make herself wake so she could demand her questions from Shadowchaser, when silvery-blue light bloomed before her eyes, and one-by-one the figures of cats appeared in a small crowd around her.
"Welcome, Clovermask." All of them spoke at once, their joined voices resulting in an eerie quality. Clovermask looked at each of them closely and, as she did, color began to spread through their glowing, misty pelts, and she realized she recognized several of these cats. "Your old life has been stripped away so that you may receive nine new ones. Are you ready?"
I have been ready for this all my life, she thought, lifting her chin proudly. "I am," she confirmed.
The crowd separated, and the first cat to step toward her was a cat she had known only for her weakness. Nonetheless, she dipped her head toward the former NightClan leader with respect. "Foxstar," she greeted her evenly.
The red-furred warrior stopped in front of her, regarding her carefully. "You may remove your mask now," she said, not unkindly. "We have been watching you, Clovermask, and we are here now to grant you the nine lives of a leader. There is nothing that is hidden from StarClan."
Clovermask sincerely doubted that, but decided to give her the benefit. "What are you trying to say? That despite who I am, you will still make me leader?"
Foxstar did not waver. "Yes. Despite who you are, I believe you have the merits that will make you a great leader. But it was never a question of whether or not you'd make a good leader. It was always a question of whether you are what NightClan needs."
Clovermask lifted a paw, examining her claws. "Would you say you were what NightClan needed?"
The former leader's eyes hardened a fraction. "You and Darkstar are alike in many ways - two sides of the same stone. But where she was hot-tempered and forward, you are cool-headed and sly." Without warning, Foxstar closed the distance between them and pressed her nose to Clovermask's. "With this life, I give you honesty. May you possess the wisdom to be honest with others, and honest with yourself."
The life rushed through Clovermask, startling her with the searing pain of it, as if brutal honesty were a physical thing. At the same time, images flickered before her eyes: Foxstar, marking the TreeClan border, glancing away from her warriors' expectant gazes as they patrolled the land their rival Clan had stolen; Foxstar, in her last moments, unable to help NightClan as it falls into disarray; Clovermask now, deceiving her way through each day in her Clan, until suddenly a black figure leaps directly at her, viciously claws stretched toward her throat.
Just as quickly as the vision came, it disappeared, leaving Clovermask winded and shaken. "What was that?!" she demanded.
"If you are not honest, your Clan will turn against you," Foxstar warned. "You may think you fool everyone you encounter, but there are more cats than you think that have seen through your mask. You must be honest with yourself, and with what NightClan needs from you, or your Clanmates will turn on you."
It took everything in Clovermask not to leap at Foxstar. Who was she to warn her about being honest, as if she hadn't spent seasons upon seasons ignoring the truth of the fact TreeClan had stolen their rightful territory! But then logic settled in, and slowly she sheathed her claws. That had been the point of Foxstar's warning.
Before she could say another word, the she-cat had melted into the crowd, and another cat strode forward to take her place. This was a tom she did not recognize - he was a slender brown tabby, with bright blue eyes, and he inclined his head slightly as he approached. "You will not know me," he mewed, "but I was a medicine cat of NightClan a very long time ago." Without further explanation, he touched his nose to hers. "With this life, I give you mercy. When dealing with matters of life and death, there is no such thing as weak or strong. The strongest warriors can be taken by illness or injury any day, and the weakest kit can change the course of fate in moons to come."
This life was even more painful than the last, as if it encompassed the terror and pain of a warrior staring in the face of death. A brief flickering of images revealed the medicine cat and another tom, ill and starving, being coaxed to eat a mixture of herbs by a young, gray-furred she-cat.
By the time Clovermask recovered, the slender tom was already disappearing back into the crowd he’d emerged from. He was replaced by a familiar face this time: Hollowmask, the young cat who’d been murdered by Deathclaw herself. He stepped toward Clovermask to touch her nose, and began to speak: “I give you a life for loyalty and courage. You will never need to worry about the loyalty of others if you’re loyal to your Clan. Having the courage to make sacrifices for them will make both you and NightClan stronger.”
This life rushed fiercely through her, filled with passion and excitement, and a fast-beating heart filled with adrenaline. She saw images of cats helping each other, thrusting each other out of the path of danger as the snarls of Demon echoed around them. The last thing she heard was the terrifying screech of the Owl Queen.
When she opened her eyes again, Hollowmask was looking away from her. She shivered, the last moments of the young tom’s life still lingering with her. “NightClan will always remember you, as long as I am leader,” she promised. She didn’t know why she said it. But the stiffness in Hollowmask’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned away to disappear among the other cats gathered.
A moment later, another unfamiliar tom padded toward her, this one small in build and gray-furred. “My name is Palefire,” he introduced himself. “I was Starlingcry’s brother.” He looked quite small and meek, making Clovermask wonder how he ever could’ve been in the same litter as the old, formidable warrior that was Starlingcry. He gently touched his nose to hers. “I give you this life for humility and compassion. Try to understand what motivates others, and take a moment to imagine what life is like in their paws, and let that guide your relationship with them.”
She was surprised, at first, that this life came to her filled with warmth and joy. And then, just like that, she felt the next rush of emotions—pain, terror, fury, despair, heartache, betrayal. Some of them were emotions she’d never felt before, maybe never would again. She stepped away, her head whirling from the sudden onslaught, and just caught Palefire’s last words:
“Your Clanmates sense the emptiness in your interactions with them. If they fail to believe you are sincere, they will lose faith in you.”
To say she was stunned at this would be an understatement. All that time she’d spent pretending to listen to them and care about their lives… they had known she was pretending? Relax, she thought. Even if they had known she was pretending, she had done it so she could climb her way to leadership—and it had worked. If she had to try a different direction in order to win their trust, then she’d do it. A Clan that didn’t trust her was useless to her.
The cat that replaced Palefire was familiar to her, and what a sight he was. Sleek black fur from head to tail, yet still covered in his battle scars, Blackwolf still radiated the power he had in life. She had looked up to him when she was young, and was terribly jealous of Darkstar when the pair of them were apprentices together—because she’d claimed the honor of being his apprentice. There was something burning in his eyes, and for the first time she wondered if any of these cats were angry with her. She had, after all, succeeded a leader who had been given her nine lives not too long ago. Would they blame her for Darkstar’s leadership ending so soon?
But Blackwolf said nothing until he lowered his head to her level to touch her nose roughly. “With this life, I give you justice. When others wrong you or NightClan, it will be up to you to make it right. You are more level-headed than Darkstar, but don’t let that stop you from taking offense where offense should be taken. You believe peace is more advantageous than battle. But your warriors will never forgive you if you place peace ahead of NightClan’s honor and pride. Never become complacent.”
This life howled through her, her ears filled with the wailing of grieving mothers and the battle cries of vengeful warriors. She saw images of warriors flying across borders, challenging their rival Clan, and succeeding. When Blackwolf stepped away, she felt full of power. This was a worthy gift.
The next cat to slip out of the crowd was a cat she had never seen before, but was able to recognize by description alone. It was like she was looking at her reflection in the water, though the queen’s pelt was a shade or two lighter and richer than her own, and her eyes glowed with a deep amber hue.
“I am Goldensky,” she purred, stepping forward to greet Clovermask, “and I am your mother.”
Clovermask blinked at her slowly, feeling something close to anger unfurling inside her. “And what gift have you come to give me?” she asked icily.
Goldensky looked taken aback. “Are you angry with me?”
“Yes!” she spat, then considered. “…No! I don’t know.” She didn’t know how to feel about meeting her mother for the first time. She could faintly remember growing up as a kit, jealous of the other kits who had mothers. She’d despised them for it, like it was their fault they had mothers and she didn’t. “You should have been there—you abandoned me!”
Goldensky was looking at her paws. “It was my time to join StarClan… I didn’t have a choice, love.”
Clovermask ignored her. “You wanted to be with the other kits more, didn’t you?”
“The other kits?”
“The ones that died with you!” She didn’t know why she was so upset. She’d rarely thought of her mother in the past—why would she? She was dead. But seeing her now seemed to awaken a horrible knot of emotions she couldn’t begin to untangle.
Goldensky did not respond, and instead tried to press her muzzle toward her daughter’s, but Clovermask dodged her. “Tell me!” she demanded.
Her mother shifted her paws, and didn’t speak for a long moment. When she finally lifted her head though, there was an iciness Clovermask didn’t expect to see. “You are being selfish,” she said coldly. “Try to remember that I died, and you were lucky enough to live. Now stand still, and I will give you the gift you deserve least.”
Clovermask glared at her, but didn’t move as Goldensky thrust her muzzle forward to give her a life. “With this life, I give you love. Remember that love is something that is given, not something that is taken. You have made and will continue to make mistakes, but if you put your heart into this, my daughter, you will redeem yourself one day. And you may even be loved.”
As she began to speak, Goldensky’s life coursed through her, and it was the most painful one yet. She saw images of cats embracing each other in secret, saw the fierce devotion between two mates at the beginning of their lives together, and at the end. She saw countless queens yowling in agony as they gave birth. She saw the pride of those same queens as they watched their kits grow into apprentices, and then warriors.
She realized she didn’t feel pain from the gift—she felt pain because she had never wanted anything so badly in her life. She wanted to be loved with every fiber of her being, and she hated it.
Clovermask sprang away from Goldensky as soon as the life had been given, and glared away from her as her mother tried to catch her eye.
“For what it’s worth,” she heard her say quietly, “I’m proud of you.”
Clovermask didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t look up again until she sensed someone else’s approach, whom she turned to face to accept her next life.
He was vaguely familiar, and she felt certain this tom had died when she was still an apprentice, or younger. He was a powerful-looking brown warrior with a long scar that circled around his throat. “My name is Oakshadow,” he began, meeting her eyes, and then she knew immediately who he was. His eyes were the same shade of green as her own. He did not offer further introduction as he pressed his nose to hers. “With this life, I give you honor. Use it to guide all your actions and decisions, and you will be respected by not only NightClan, but all the Clans in the valley.”
Clovermask closed her eyes as she received this life, embracing it. That was what she wanted—she wanted everyone’s respect, not just NightClan’s. This life showed her images of many moons of Gatherings, of shining eyes peering up at her as she stood above them. She saw all five Clan leaders together, comfortably, with flattened fur and relaxed shoulders. She saw the glitter of starlight that glistened on the Moon Tree itself, and felt the wonder that came with it.
When she stepped back again, she stumbled, beginning to feel overwhelmed by how the sheer amount of life within her. But her ceremony wasn’t over yet—she still had two lives left to receive. She was still breathless when Briarthroat made his way toward her, bending his head to touch her nose. “I will give you the same gift I once gave to Darkstar. With this life, I give you clarity. Do not allow your obsessions and fixations to distract you from your duty of leading your Clan.”
Briarthroat didn’t need to plant predictions in her head to make his point when she already had her own memories. She saw Shrikesong, over and over, how they’d met in secret at their shared border, when she’d spent days prowling the scent line, itching to cross over and find out what Shrikesong was doing. When she’d found out about her kits, and Darkstone, and how blinded by betrayal she’d been. There were seasons of her life where she was barely involved in her Clan, because she was so fixated on Shrikesong.
This life filled her with aching and longing, and it still tingled inside her when Briarthroat pulled away. She wouldn’t meet his eyes as the former deputy moved back into the crowd, and when she looked up it was Darkstar who prowled toward her. Her pelt was no longer sodden and bedraggled, but sleek and healthy with speckles of starlight. Her golden eyes burned, and she had the feeling the former NightClan leader was looking at her, and truly seeing her, for the first time.
“You,” she said, “are not the cat I thought you were.” Her tone held an accusation to it. “If I had known you were padding after some she-cat in TreeClan, I’d have never made you my deputy. Tell me: How do you think that relationship will go for you?”
“I am not padding after her,” Clovermask retorted. “It’s not like that. I just wanted—“
“Save it,” Darkstar interrupted. “I don’t care. If Briarthroat hadn’t already given you a life for clarity, I’d have given it to you myself. I’ll tell you how that relationship will go—you will end it. You will never meet her again, you will never speak to her again, and you will never think about her again, or I will haunt you until you take your last breath. I did not take my Clan to war only to hand over the reins to some TreeClan-obsessed fool seasons later.”
“That part of my life is over,” said Clovermask, as evenly as she could. “NightClan has been my only focus for seasons now.”
“She means nothing to you. Say it,” Darkstar demanded.
Clovermask had always found lying to be very easy, but this was a harder one to tell. Still, she made sure she met Darkstar’s blazing eyes as she answered her with an unwavering voice: “Shrikesong means nothing to me.”
Darkstar stared at her hard for a long moment, and then finally gave a short nod. “I do believe you would never betray NightClan. That will have to be enough.” Her tone was curt, and her eyes held nothing of the faint respect they once had. She touched her nose to Clovermask’s, and gave her the ninth life of a Clan leader. “With this life, I give you ferocity. You are a thing of restraint, but sometimes restraint is not necessary when your Clan is demanding passion and a show of power from you. Do not hesitate to bare your fangs and unsheathe your claws at NightClan’s enemies, or your hesitance may cost you lives.”
This life was burning, scorching fire, and showed her the last few moments of Darkstar’s life—her straining against the tree with all the power within her and more, her lack of hesitation saving the lives of her Clanmates. She heard battlecries and smelled the stench of bloodshed as she leaped into a fight where she knew she could die—and not caring, as long as it’s in defense of her Clan.
Clovermask gasped as Darkstar tore away from her, as if she couldn’t stand touching her for a second longer. She wondered why she had agreed to give her a life when she appeared to despise her so much. She raised her tail and her voice as she went on, “I now hail you by your new name: Cloverstar! Your old life is no more—you have received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of NightClan. Protect your Clan, fight for it; care for the young and the old; look to your warrior ancestors for guidance and honor the traditions of the warrior code. Live each of your lives with wisdom and compassion, and your reign will last for many seasons.”
Her new name was echoed among the small crowd behind her as the other StarClan cats took up the chant. “Cloverstar, Cloverstar!”
The new leader of NightClan raised her chin proudly, feeling the power of nine lives course through her, and the satisfaction of finally having achieved one of her greatest goals. She did not miss the hard look in Darkstar’s eyes even as she chanted her new name.
Cloverstar didn’t care. I am leader now… you don’t matter anymore, and you will be forgotten in the shadow of my rule.
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