Nightstar's Crown

Chapter 4

|| Chapter 4 ||
☫

"I do."

"I do."

"I do."

"Then by the power of StarClan, I give you your warrior names," Featherstar spoke clearly, purring down in pride at the apprentices, but most in particular, her son. Brokenpaw became Brokentail, and Featherpaw, Featherheart. "Lostpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Loststorm. StarClan honors your strength and compassion," she nodded with tender eyes as she peered down at the newly-made warrior.

He'd grown and matured, his chest puffed out, and his eyes steely and determined. Once a goofy, playful and adventurous sort of kit, he'd gotten leaner, taller, and his kit hairs were practically gone at this point, a more sleek appearance to his coat. Bright, leaf green eyes were still pretty much the same. His rosettes and markings were more defined in his pelt. The tan, almost sandy-colored underbelly had become more prevalent. And likewise, the same could be applied to the feline next to him.

Featherstar turned to her now and smiled. "Nightpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Nightrose. StarClan honors your courage, tenacity, and loyalty. And we welcome all of you as full warriors of ShadowClan!" The surrounding cats yowled out their clanmates' names, and Nightrose blinked her blue-green eyes gratefully up at the leader. She sat with a poise she didn't quite carry much as an apprentice, and thanks to her being so scarce for the past few moons to nearly everyone other than Thornthroat (with the exception of the occasional group training, although at their advanced stages, these became less frequent), she was practically a new cat. Not quite so changed as she would be, but the isolation to her mother had affected her in some ways. Not everyone understood this though, and although some might have thought they did, the whole picture wasn't on display.

Featherstar leapt down from the log to congratulate her son, Moonstep and Cinderstorm approaching him shortly after with Ravenpaw, and the other new warriors' kin approached them to exchange their celebratory words. Releasing a subtle sigh through her nose, Nightrose made her way out of the congested crowding to give them their time and bowed into a stretch, beginning to head for the entrance silently. We haven't really spoken in moons, she reminded herself. The only time I've seen any of them is Lostpaw before my head hit my nest...it's only expected, she told herself, trying to ease her internal yearning for acknowledgement just as she heard some of their laughter, and envy struck her briefly. It'll change now that we're warriors. We made it through training. I made it through...we'll have more time now, Nightrose tried to assure herself with a deep inhale. It'll get better from here—

"Hey, Nightrose..." Hearing his voice not in a sneer was strange. With a slow, disturbed blink, she stopped in her tracks. The newly-made warrior turned slowly to look over her shoulder as if she couldn't be bothered. There stood the brown tom with darker brown spots, yellow eyes glistening in a way that nearly made her fur crawl. And he dared bump himself into her side like they were buddies. "Who knew you would grow up to look this good one day? Hey, I have an idea—" Was that supposed to be a complim–? "You, me, a vole, geysers under moonlight. Whaddya say?" ...is he serious? Forcing her fur to lie flat, she stared at him in disbelief. However, he took her stunned silence as a compliment. "Ah, I know what you're thinking. But what can I say? I know what I want, and it'd be my honor to accompany a pretty kitty such as you—"

Nightrose guffawed lightly in a dignified fashion as she raised her tail. "Oh, yes, that sounds lovely...except there's a teeny, tiny problem with that," Nightrose started, her voice the slightest bit sultry as she smiled softly with a small laugh. Then, she turned to him entirely and stared with an intense, cold gaze as she curled her tail back. "I don't dawdle with immature, pompous, undignified, frankly idiotic, harassing bullies. If those words were too big for you, that stands for apprentices," she said, being just a tad petty and flaunting the fact that she was made a warrior and Leopardpaw was still Leopardpaw. As he gaped at her, she smiled sarcastically in a way that didn't meet her eyes, though satisfaction with his reaction had. Then she whipped her tail across his muzzle in a slap as she padded onward. "I'm not interested in younger toms, anyway."