Weaselclaw's body stiffens, the hair rising along his spine as Sootstar yowls, "StarClan!" He looks past her, into the black tempest sweeping through their territory, and a chill snakes its way inside his body and coils around his heart. Slowly, slowly, he turns his gaze back to his mate, staring, for the first time perhaps in moons, properly into her eyes. He searches their haunted green depths for the truth, and he finds it. He finds it, and he hates that he does.
"You've been lying to me? To the Clan?" He does not focus on this, though. This is surely not the matter at paw. Sootstar continues, "They've not stopped Weaselclaw... the last I spoke with them was many moons ago -- they told me my reign is of dishonor!" Her wail causes him to flinch as though she is a badger striking him with claws. "No," he whispers, and at last his gaze breaks away from hers.
He stares at his own paws, which are numb from shock. "If I continue down a path of 'senseless' violence I will fail." "Fail?" He repeats stupidly. Her hysteria rises, she's clawing the earth and pacing as though she sees starry warriors peering around the shadows, judging her now.
Weaselclaw's world has changed in a matter of moments. He remembers a day, long ago, when Soot of the marsh group had returned Sootstar, leader of WindClan, blessed with nine lives. How his own eyes had been opened to what he had before been blind to. A she-cat with the power of the dead in her paws, blessed by unseeable forces -- Weaselclaw had already been attracted to her, but his love and devotion had intensified fiercely.
The day they'd raided the chicken coop, and she had died right in front of him, choking on her own blood -- and then days after, when she'd stumbled home, exhausted and hungry, but alive.
Sootstar had been his StarClan.
Weaselclaw's ears lower. "StarClan has turned their back on you," he mutters. He still can't believe this is happening. He can't conceive of a world where Sootstar does not have StarClan's blessing. Where WindClan doesn't. His own claws unsheathe and scrape against the stone floor of their den.
And is what she is saying -- has he ever disagreed before? Weaselclaw considers it now. Kestreltalon's eye, the cats fleeing at the claws of their exilers, blood congealing between his paws after taking Smokethroat's eye.
Had that been alright because it was for StarClan? Or had it been right because it was for Sootstar?
There didn't use to be a difference, he thinks bleakly, eyes seeing nothing, seeing everything. And now that there is a difference -- now that his mate's actions are condemned by the gods -- what will he do?
Perhaps she is afraid of that herself. Weaselclaw exhales, long and slow. "StarClan can't take back the nine lives they gave you, can they?" Perhaps she doesn't know. Perhaps even Vulturemask would not know. Weaselclaw lashes his tail. "StarClan condemns violence, but the other leaders have blood on their paws, too." It's not fair, not fair to him at all, but since when is the world fair?
He straightens, swiftly crossing the den so that he can press his muzzle to hers. He does not know how she will react in this moment, but he does not flinch from his mate, from his leader. He has come too far to do that now, and he made a vow. He's made many vows to her. And he will not break them on the word of anyone.
Not even StarClan themselves.
"You are the one here in the moors leading this Clan," he says slowly, deliberately. "They sit above and judge us, but they know nothing! You are not dishonorable." He's convincing himself now as well as her, slipping into a delusion, but he does not even realize it. His conviction has returned.
"I told you long ago that I would be by your side no matter what. I still mean that." His blue eyes gleam fiercely as lightning cracks the sky outside. He bares his teeth, a challenge to the stars he cannot see through the storm they wage. "If StarClan will not see that you are a just and honorable leader, then forget them! We don't need them." He rests his white muzzle on the top of her head, willing her to feel the solid warmth of his chest and calm herself. "We fought without StarClan before. We can do it again. And we will."
Thunder rumbles outside. He ignores it, defying the thrill of terror that runs through him despite his courageous words.
[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
