Flintpaw's Legend ~Part 9~

Instructions

Flintpaw padded into Thunderclan camp a bundle of herbs in he jaws padding over to Lockfoot with his head held high today was the day he was going to be a full fledged medicine cat Flintpaw straightened his shoulders, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded against his ribs. He set the bundle of herbs down at Lockfoot’s paws with a soft thump, green stems spilling across the ground. “When are we headed to the Moonstone for the gathering?” Lockfoot looked up “We’ll leave at sunhigh,” Lockfoot meowed “I want you rested and fed before we go anywhere near the Moonstone. A trembling medicine cat makes for a very confusing conversation with StarClan.” He flicked his tail lightly against Flintpaw’s shoulder, half-teasing, half-reassuring. “Go grab something from the fresh-kill pile, then double-check the traveling herbs. If you’re going to be a full medicine cat by sunrise, you’re going to do it properly.” __________________________________________ They padded across the moor, the wind tugging at their fur and flattening Flintpaw’s whiskers as the sky faded to deep purple and stars appeared. Flintpaw’s paws ached, but excitement pushed him on. Lockfoot brushed his tail along Flintpaw’s side. “Not far now,” he murmured. “The others will be waiting.” They slipped through the narrow tunnel that led to the Moonstone, stone walls cold against their pelts, the air growing quiet and still. The passage widened into a cavern where the Moonstone rose from the center like a pale, glowing rock. As the moon slid into place above the hole in the roof, the stone filled the cave with white light. Three other medicine cats were already there: Owlsong of WindClan, a wiry brown she‑cat with pale amber eyes; Mistwhisker of RiverClan, a sleek gray tom with silver dapples; and Sagefur of ShadowClan, a dark tortoiseshell she‑cat with sharp green eyes. They dipped their heads as Lockfoot and Flintpaw entered, gazes warm but serious. Lockfoot stepped forward, resting his tail across Flintpaw’s shoulders and guiding him toward the Moonstone, its light painting his fur silver. “StarClan,” Lockfoot began, his voice steady and respectful, “I come to you tonight with my apprentice, Flintpaw. He has trained in the ways of a medicine cat, learned your signs, and devoted his paws to healing his Clan. I ask that you look upon him now and grant him his true name as a full medicine cat of ThunderClan.” He bent closer. “Do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from Clan rivalries, to treat every cat equally, and to listen to StarClan, even when their path is hard?” Flintpaw swallowed, then lifted his chin. “I do,” he whispered. Lockfoot touched his nose gently to the top of Flintpaw’s head. “Then, by the powers of StarClan, you shall be known as Flinthawk. May your sight be as sharp as a hawk’s and your courage never waver.” One by one, the other medicine cats stepped forward to greet him. At last, Lockfoot nodded toward the glowing stone. “Lie beside the Moonstone, Flinthawk. Touch your nose to it, and let StarClan greet their newest medicine cat.” Wrapped in the Moonstone’s soft light, Flinthawk lay down, closed his eyes, and pressed his nose to the shining rock when his eyes fluttered open again he was surrounded in a dark red forest.