- Jun 7, 2023
- 276
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When StarClan spoke, the world listened. Their thunder was the gavel that sentenced lesser cats to their graves, their lightning was the axe that executed anyone that dared stand against them. He was their prodigal son, WindClan had told him, but, no one could’ve predicted just how filthy that heritage would become.
No true child of StarClan was a product of infidelity; a treacherous mother and a father that could love a kittypet. As he thought back across his interactions with the clan, he wondered how they had known before him, how they could’ve taunted him with the information for so long, and yet no one had told him the truth. The walk to his sanctuary was one well-traveled these past six months, but it had become even more trodden upon as of late. He had been awake to witness every cycle of the moon, eyes straining against the paradoxical darkness that swallowed the moors. Danger lurked in the long shadows, but on his daily quest, he had only found the prospect stimulating. Brackenpaw had once asked if he had ever delivered any justice, with anger like adrenaline within his body, he believed anyone who crossed him on his mission would be the first to face his judgment.
The night was quiet, so quiet that not even the sky dared stir with stars.
Sootspot entered the cave, winding around the passage as if it were a tunnel. ’Is it endless?’ He’d thought to ask some time ago, but no sooner did the question arise again, the tom’s question was answered. A light enveloped his paws as he pressed deeper and deeper on until he eventually reached the crystal. His narrowed glance shot towards the triangular hole to the sky, the dark fur upon his pelt blanched against the Moonstone’s glow. Any sense of wonder had died with his apprenticeship. He looked upon the rock now and sought to destroy it, claws unsheathed in the presence of the ancestors. But not his ancestors, cats that the Stars had betrayed the moment they’d allowed themselves to be overrun with kittypets and fish-eaters. He had already asked them why to the point of hoarseness within his throat, his screams and cries unanswered by all except the cave itself, echoing his agony back to him like a taunt.
Pain gripped his heart once more, this time, he knew to be cold. “Will you answer me this time?” He waited for too long and not long enough, his chest rising and falling erratically. An ear twitched at the silent treatment - he did not want to beg again, could not beg again. A paw pressed against the moonstone and it was cold. Sootspot blinked and felt his gut twist at the sight. He blinked again, squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them wider than ever, but all that stood before him was the same mocking Moonstone. He moved his head closer, whispering, “A sign then, that you are listening?” Nothing, not even the wind stirred in acknowledgment. Why would it? He was not special, he was no medicine cat or leader.
But the idea that he was beneath them, perpetuated by himself and a god in equal measures, was nauseating.
His paw was shaken away as if kissed by fire, teeth bared in a silent hiss. “Why?!” He knew to be cold. He knew in the presence of everyone, there was a certain decorum in which one had to act, for if they did not, they would die. But Sootspot was alone. There was no one’s approval to gain but his own, but the self and the mask had a river’s distance between them and the Tunneler did not know which end he was trying to appease with his anger. Red filtered his vision as he paced the cave, his bristling fur pressing against the walls. “Why aren’t my prayers enough for you!? Why won’t you answer me?! Am I not good enough for you?!” He shook his head in passionate disbelief.
A pebble grazed his foot and, in a fury, Sootspot kicked it away, sending it tumbling into the darkness. The shadows were a reminder that darkened his thoughts. "Traitors and kittypets… Do you speak to them and not me?! Or did they lie too about your voice?!” His tone grew haggard and aged, old injuries creeping into his throat as he fought not to sob. He was perfect, he was WindClan, he… he… “Is there anyone left I can believe about anything?! About what I am?” Chartreuse eyes pleaded with the crystal, scouring so hard to find anyone he knew. Bluepool, Harrierstripe, Sootstar, Weaselclaw, Shrikethorn - could one of them give him an answer? He thought one of them would… if they were there. But, there was a hollowness in his heart that could only be filled with the illusion of being loved. When he considered his family, the emptiness did not abate.
’I’m alone. I have no one, not even the sky.’
They had all overlooked him, all betrayed him with their silence, but moving his memory to the living, he found there to be little difference. Sunstar’s vicious grin mocked him, Scorchstreak’s insults sent laughter erupting through the camp and he was helpless to stop it. Rattleheart’s smugness convinced the clan that she was somehow better than him. He shared their scar but none of the regret, and the world punished him for the workings of his mind. The sharp corners of Moonstone grew blurred in his vision as he rubbed away angry tears. His breath hitched and he tilted his head upwards.
What more did he need to do? An oath signed in blood - not his own. “I will make you acknowledge me!” He hissed his promise, turning on his heel and storming out of the Highstones.
