Hawkstar’s exhaustion seemed to hit him all at once the moment that his paws crossed the threshold of the camp. His body still felt inexplicably wired and tired at the same time.
They had not spoken a word since departing from the mooncave. Hawkstar himself felt at a loss for words, numb from head to toe in shock at what had just taken place. He was Hawkstar now. No longer Hawkbite, never again. His mother had only begun to grasp that his name had changed since it had been Hawkpaw; she still got it wrong a good half of the time. It was sweet, in a way.
Gods, what’ll she think when I tell her?
Be proud, probably.
He smiled smally to himself. Since mending his fences with his mother, she was prone to exaggerated gestures of affection and pride– as if to make up for lost time. He couldn't fault her. He was sometimes still the same himself
Sill, he felt a pang for the loss of his old name. He had been named Hawkbite by Hollystar, for the ‘bite’ of his sharp words she had said. If he closed his eyes, he could still recall the sound of the voice chanted all around him by battle-worn brothers and sisters in blood. The pride that had burned in his chest ever since ablaze that night. He’d died and be reborn. According to Darkstorm I did die. Hawkstar still thought it was a ruse to short him a life out of spite. He wouldn’t put it past StarClan. Besides, a cat being resurrected long before their Leadership on account of destiny? It was laughable to him.
Peachblossom was gone when he turned to look, his mouth open though with no words in his mind. In the corner he spotted her plume of a tail vanishing into the Medicine Cat’s den, followed by questioning glances from the night guards. Thanks for the help, Hawkstar thought dryly, as he stood there just as alone as he’d been before StarClan. Taking a deep breath, he cast his gaze heavenward for a brief moment before his shaky legs started a path to the hightree. The ancient and twisting oak whose roots churned the soil loomed oppressively overhead the closer he drew. Through its many branches, the moon and stars winked at him in a dance of silvery light that painted pale shapes upon the earth. He ascended the worn and twisted trunk in total silence. The bark, worn away to reveal bare wood from time and use, felt slick beneath his pawpads and presented a slight challenge that required him to grip it firmly with his claws to make progress. Once atop the main fork of its mighty body he paused to take in the camp. ThunderClan camp was a small-looking scoop of earth dotted with bramble-and-thistle woven structures, beyond it a tangle of woodland that fanned out on either side of the ravine in which it lay. Earthen tunnels led in and out, snaking upward to empty on the forest floor at the north and south ends. He’d always liked the layout. Tall trees and branches that curved like protective arms shielded them from the sun and birds of prey, and the depression of the ravine itself made it defensible so long as the exiting tunnels were guarded. Completed with a ring of thorny fencing at its rim, it presented a challenge to any sieging forces.
It’s not mine, but I’m in charge of everybody who lives here now.
He felt humbled by the magnitude of his fresh responsibility. It felt more grounded when he gazed down at all of the dens, each holding the beating hearts of cats who would now look to him for guidance.
He pressed a claw to his own open pad.
Okay, definitely not dreaming. He thought as he watched a bead of red bloom on his skin. It had been worth a shot.
“Alright, everyone gather beneath the hightree. C'mon, yes, everyone!” He knew those weren’t the words, but hell, why exclude kits? This affected everyone.
Slowly, those who were not already awake emerged from their dens blinking sleep from their eyes. As each of them recognized who was sitting up in the tree, tiredness gave way to nervous excitement. Every cat in ThunderClan had been eagerly awaiting news from StarClan on their fate, and were frankly beyond questioning why he of all cats was up there, if it meant answers. Hawkstar couldn’t help but swally nervously all the same. What would happen when he told them? What if a goddamned mutiny broke out? He’d never heard anything like that in all his years, but it would be just his luck to be the first Clan Leader to be rejected and driven out.
“StarClan has spoken to Peachblossom and I,” He craned his neck to see if he could spot her in the crowd, but as even apprentices towered over her he had no luck. “She brought me with her to the moonpool and her choice for Leader. And StarClan has accepted me and granted me my lives. I am now called Hawkstar, I hope you all will accept me as your Leader and humble me with your loyalty and strength.”
He waited for the noise to die down, and noted with relief that he was not forcibly being removed from the hightree.
"Over the trip home I had time to think, and I've chosen my Deputy." This seemed to please them. He knew not naming someone would be unacceptable, after Gravelstar.
"Featherstorm." His eyes sought the senior tabby among the sea of faces. "Would you-"
"I shall." Her reply cut cleanly through the night, and his words. His heart welled up at her instant willingness to stand at his side. To have the support of one of the senior Warriors was a good omen.
"There you have it, ThunderClan." He turned his gaze back on the Clan, his Clan. "If anyone's got any issues with anything....too bad honestly, nothing we can do now." He growled, fluffing up his black pelt a tad.