Healing is a matter of time,
but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.

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Rowanglade led the silent way to the surface, relived when her paws touched the chilled stone outside of Mothermouth.

She turned, ignoring the wet remnants of the earlier thunderstorm and watched as the rest followed.

Out with the old - In with the bold

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Boldstar’s fur was thick enough to sheild him against the worst of the night’s cold, but as he led the way down into Highstones. Because of the wind the snow wasn’t particularaly deep. The way was easier than it might have been. Once he was upon the cliff outside the entrance he turned green eyes on his Deputy.

”We’re here tonight so that you can learn one of the last things I have to teach you.” His voice was serious as he settled himself with tail wrapped over his paws. ”One of the great gifts StarClan grants leaders is that we may reach out to them here should the need arise. I’m old. We both know that the sun will rise on your time as leader soon.”

He had reservations, though not enough that he wasn’t going to stand by his choice of deputy. He’d hoped to have more time to temper the steel of Coldgaze’s spirit, to lesson the spirit to fight. But, even without the tempering complete Coldgaze would leader well in his turn. There was no doubt of the devotion the tom had to RiverClan.

'I am yet to understand my place in this world, but with you by my side, I know things just might be alright'
✧ ⭒ ✧ ⭒ ✧ ⭒ ✧ ⭒ ✧

While the night was still, Aspenberry found herself staring into the void of the warrior's den, pale eyes rounded and alert. Usually Aspenberry was a heavy sleeper, falling into a deep sleep with ease, but tonight her body refused to rest. 

The thunderpath emitted a cold, solitary aura, devoid of any life. Aspenberry preferred to avoid this border of her territory, but her goal tonight was past the monster's path. She had only gone towards highstones once, a journey all apprentices must take. Tonight she was not heading towards mothermouth, but highstones a a whole. The large, silvery stones were foreign to her, which was exactly what pulled her towards them. She couldn't sleep, so she may as well take the time to explore a bit further, especially when she knew the clan was safe. 

In the moonlight, Aspenberry's stark white pelt practically glowed, something which the spotted deputy found quite unfavourable. It made her an easy target, but she had confidence in her abilities. She shot across the thunderpath, a silvery stream before darting into undergrowth on the other side. Already the ground felt different. Not to different from the moorlands, though it felt rougher underpaw, like she was standing on millions of tiny stones. The great stones lay ahead, but for now Aspenberry stuck to the sacredmoor, her pale eyes glimmering beneath the moonlight. It was cold but the sky was clear, the dancing souls of silverpelt watching over her as she walked from place to place, soon settling down on top a rock where she could see both highstones, and a faint outline of where she assumed WindClan's camp was. 

rise from the smoldering pyre of wormwood and weeds
↫ ⭒ ☽ ⭒ 〄 ⭒ ☾ ⭒ ↬

 

Mothermouth was ahead, and swift paw falls brought a pair of Riverclan cats across the span of Sacredmoor. Each rock seemed to tell a story, and even though the night sky was cloudy, it marked the quarter moon that was so important to the medicine cats of the clans. Still growing into his adult size, Nettlepaw weaved between the stones, keeping close to his mentor and offering her the comfort of his presence.

He wondered if Starclan would offer them some guidance. Last moon was merely a chained warning to their original omen - Splashpelt had lost his life. There was nothing they could do, and he was oddly discouraged by the discovery. Silently he hoped that Starclan would speak of some more clues to these deaths. If prey were somehow hunting them, they should learn all they could to combat it.

Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.

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Rowanglade ignored both the heat and the drops of moisture that clung to her fur. It wasn't raining now, though she could only assume it was but a matter of time until the rain at least tried again.

the light of the moon cast deep shadows amongst the stark lines of the stones around her as she made her way across the rocky ground towards Mothermouth. Sacredmoor was well behind her now. The waxing quarter of the moon always brought prophecy with it. It was why the Medicine Cats of the Great Clans had begun to gather here after Reoc tore Highstones into existence. As she came up onto the platform before Mothermouth she was grateful for Reoc's claws anew.  There was just enough of an overhang above her that she would remain dry if the rain decided now was the time.

She settled close to the rock wall to await the arrival of the rest of StarClan's most dedicated servants.