StarClan's Mistake (Warrior Cats Fanfiction)

Chapter 12

It's been a moon. A whole moon since all of this happened.

We haven't seen Spotdot since she ran off. Nobody knows what happened to her; her scent crossed beyond our borders and has gone very stale. Maybe she's dead, maybe she became a kittypet, a rogue, joined another group? We have no clue. Either way, she's counted as yet another casualty from...what happened.

What happened in our Clan? Well, what you would expect. We had burials for each of the victims, and later we even had an honor ceremony for Spotdot, in case she had died, or for the day she will die. Drylake tried dedicating herself harshly to her warrior duties, but I suppose it just didn't turn out as distracting as she wanted, because not even a quarter-moon later, she retired to the elder's den.

Jumpstump, her daughter, retired with her. She can't move, no matter how hard we tried to help her move or how hard she tried. And believe me when I say she tried. So now she just spends her days in the elder's den with her mother, having to be fed and given water and constantly flipped to the other side every day. Because when we initially didn't flip her she started developing these awful sores. The skin is a lot more sensitive than most cats believe it to be, I suppose.

StarClan's become a...well, the best way to describe it is touchy. Heronbeak says her connection to them is running thinner with every day, and the rest of our Clanmates seem to have their faith permanently shaken. They don't say it aloud. But you can tell it. When someone says something as passive as "Oh StarClan!", a harmless and compulsive expression, you can tell the area gets a bit more nervous even after they move on from it. Heronbeak is focusing far more on healing her Clanmates than communicating with StarClan.

To be fair, this whole ordeal doesn't seem to have affected us negatively, at least not yet; but I think the other Clans are catching on. I fear what they may think of ShadowClan if they find we are beginning to take a different route. Regardless, though, I won't let what they think shake my loyalty. This marsh Clan is my home, and whatever they may think of it, with all of its quirks and flaws, I won't let a shift in attitude towards our ancestors be the end of my dedication to it.

And onto the more juicy information. Wallstar's resigned. His leadership had been shaky before, but after the way he so poorly handled Blessedbone, there was really no way he could continue leading after that. Not with all the cats criticizing him, gaving him hateful expressions, challenging him for the position. Even though he resigned, I still don't think he realizes that he did anything wrong. He probably only did it because he's a coward. It wouldn't be the first time he shied away from responsibility.

So, now my name is about to be changed to Scatterstar.

It feels kind of strange. I've always longed for the day my name was changed to a leader's name, with that gorgeous little "star" at the end. But now I'm dreading it. My name will be a constant reminder of how we have been wronged, how we lost four Clanmates to a mistake of our ancestors, and how we will never know what went wrong in that process until we die.

Tell me, do I have to pledge my allegiance to these cats, most of whom I don't know the name of, just to be a good leader? No. I don't. Why should I?

My nose is hovering so close to the Moonstone, its silver light the only thing saving this cave from darkness. Outlining every crevice, blinding those who glance towards it, outlining clearly the sparse plant life that has, for whatever reason, chosen to live here, away from sunlight and warmth, next to this cold marble rock evermore.

But I pause. I don't touch the Moonstone; I slowly allow my eyes to open, to gaze into the blinding whiteness and see nothing. If our warrior ancestors are there, they are not showing themselves. I slowly withdraw from the glowing stone, my lips pursing and widening repeatedly as I consider the choice I am about to make.

Then, before ever touching my nose to the Moonstone, to acquire my nine lives, to meet my ancestors, I turn around, flicking my tail and twitching a whisker. What did I owe them, after they handled everything so terribly?

They deserve to know that me turning around was their own fault, not anything that happened around me. That they were the ones restricting me from my nine lives ceremony. I specifically chose not to attend because of them, not because of anything else that may be bothering me. They must not have any excuses.

Briefly glancing over my shoulder like I'm looking at another cat, I murmur, "I am Scatterstar. Not who you tell me to be."

I then turn my head away for the last time. Am I really willing to give up having nine lives just for some perceived honor? I decide that, yes, it truly is best. And perhaps it fits the stereotype of a ShadowClan cat. That we are too honorable and too airheaded to listen to StarClan. My aforementioned words could certainly be twisted to seem that way. Then I furrow my eyebrows. Then let them. As my claws dig into the stone and I carry myself away from the Moonstone, I think, Let them twist my words. They'd do it anyway. Let them ruin themselves.

And so, I, Scatterstar, exit Mothermouth, carrying with me one life. That's enough for me. It is enough for my Clanmates, so it is enough for me.