Clearsight, like Smokethroat, was fond of his new name. There was something so refreshing about it. And he was fond, too, of the fact that Cicadastar had been the one to bestow it; this was not just a name but a sign of loyalty. Clearsight was a RiverClanner, through and through, his name now its permanent reflection.
And his names had never been permanent before, but something was different about this one. Maybe he could feel it, some spiritual quality-- maybe these names really did hold StarClan's power, or maybe it was just that he wanted it. Wanted permanence. If something was going to last, let it be this. This clan, this home, this name at the center of him.
This family.
Unlike many of his clanmates, Clearsight was used to changing names. These days he couldn't even remember his first-- it slipped just out of reach of his working memory, sinking beneath relentless waves into cold blue depths. The name his mother had given him, born small and blue and fragile; the child he could never remember anymore.
Oh, that first name. It could've been anything. There had been so many in the early days. It could have been Drain or Blue or Petrichor, or one even older than that, lost to him now. Anchored in the riverbed miles back, invisible under the water, half-buried in sand.
It didn't matter now. He was Clearsight, and Clearsight he would stay. A RiverClanner through and through. Trusted warrior of Cicadastar, making this island home.
He listened to the musings of his clanmates, their banter and chatter, from a few foxlengths away-- resting in the sun, lying with his tail tucked against his flank. Raccoon, the sweet kid, wanted something "cool." Willowroot thought of theirs as a fresh start-- Clearsight could relate to that. Chamomile didn't have one yet. And Smokethroat--
Liked his, but thought it teasing. Clearsight felt a twinge of sympathy. It could sound like that, he mused. But... "Clayfur's right," Clearsight agreed, lifting his head from where it rested on his paws. "You have a very nice voice and an excellent name to match. Well-suited, but not teasing, I think. It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of."
And he wondered about his own, too. It was beautiful, but what did it mean? Clearsight for his fishing skills, unshakeable focus on sunlit water-- Clearsight for the way he guarded his clanmates, watchful and certain-- Clearsight for the level head he kept through chaos, clarity of mind's eye?
(He didn't know how crucial the latter would be, in the dangerous days that followed.)