A passerby would have been forgiven for believing that the mouth of hell had opened up and spilled out onto the battlefield. It had been an age since all five Clans had marched to war, and the sea of writhing teeth and claws stood testimony to why. The loyalists were outnumbered, but that very fact appeared to be spurning them onward with greater vigor against the dissenters. Being the underdog had its own appeal. A confirmation bias that they were in the right for standing by their Leaders. ShadowClan and ThunderClan were no shabby fighters beside, but with RiverClan still on the mend they were not an insignificant barrier to peace. Shrill cries and the tang of blood filled the air, viscera mixed with the trodden muddy earth, still damp from the prior night's rainfall. Pelt colors became smeared and indistinct, the dirt concealing even scent so that Warriors could scarcely tell friend from foe. A moment to look in their eyes was all one had to make the call. Copperheart surveyed the chaos with a curled-lipped satisfaction. They were going to lose, he knew full-well. But the cats below him were pawns in his truer aims, and just as easily disposed of. He scratched absentmindedly at his ill-fitting skin with a hind leg. It was pulling up around the ankles, from which spectral white paws sprouted. His paws. He’d almost forgotten the look of them. Today he would shed this mortal coil, and don another, and another, for as long as he needed to. Holding this body had been a valuable learning experience at the very least, he’d do better the next time around. At long last he finally zeroed in on what he’d been searching for. It was tricky, amid the sea of writhing browned bodies, but there was no substance on earth that could truly mask that fiery fur. Indeed, his size alone marked him on the field, if nothing else. The bigger they are the harder they fall, Copperheart thought as he plunged down the grassy knoll to brace the fighting below. He cut a savage path through the crowd, going for eyes, throats, all vital points without any consideration if they fought in his name or against it, until he found himself before the great orange brute.  “Hello, father.” He leered, his twin gaze shining from within Hawkstar’s twisted features. “It’s been…far too long.”

The night of the gathering was damp and humid. The air had a coolness about it, and stirred occasionally in an apathetic manor. Slick plant life waved lazily against the smothering air, and as ThunderClan made its way to the gathering many felt moisture gathering along their whiskers. The Elders gossiped about how this was a warmer greenleaf than those in the past, heeded not by the apprentices who were clamoring for glimpses of enemy Clans. Yet the overall mood of ThunderClan was muted and uneasy. Hawkstar led the pack at a brisk pace, striding far ahead of his Deputy or Healer. His medium length coat shone in the silvery bath of the moon, glittering with dewdrops. Tonight he went without his signature orange bandanna, looking more the part of an expected Clan cat and dignified Leader than he had in past meetings. Yet many had remarked, much to his ire, that this was not chiefly what he was known for. He had snapped ruthlessly at these observations, until at least they’d ceased altogether. He could not say why, and indeed at times he found cats looking hurt at him with….no memory of what he might have done. He told himself it was stress. He’d been sleeping poorly, with frequent night trips alongside Juncostar. Was it any wonder he was missing time? “Hurry up!” He snapped, turning back to face the party joining him. “It’s better if we get there first.” He growled, for a moment his left eye catching glancing light from the moon coloring it a deep ocean blue. A trick of the light, surely. Crossing over the threshold of the neutral territories was the last thing he remembered. Ospreyshadow shifted uncomfortably, glancing around himself with obvious unease. Why was he here? He had protested ardently when Hawkstar had suggested he be a part of the group heading to this moon’s gathering, and by the dirty looks ShadowClan cats were throwing him he was feeling only too right in his reluctance. It’s very important that you be here tonight. All of you. Hawkstar’s words were ominous. What had his grandfather meant by them? Hawkstar had not been himself of late. He was fowl-tempered, harsh, and kept chiefly to himself where he had once been brash and sociable. Ospreyshadow was beginning to think there was more than maladjustment from the separation to Coldpaw’s panicked cries of ‘that is not my father!’ but his young uncle was noticeably absent among those selected, so he could not ask him now. In lieu of any cat actually wanting to speak to him, Ospreyshadow took to people watching. ShadowClan was also behaving oddly. Of course any of them who met his eye gave him murderous looks, but those who did not seemed as nervous and uncomfortable as he was. Yet Hawkstar and Juncostar sat close together, away from the crowd, exchanging hushed whispers. At long last, they moved to the news-sharing segment of the evening. The Clan Leaders, joined by their deputies and medicine cats, climbed atop the twisting branches of the overhead trees and jutting stones that overlooked the conclave. The moon above hovered in a cloudless sky, inscrutable in its stillness. The eyes of StarClan were upon the living…..but what did they see? A series of gasps and murmurs arose as Hawkstar shouldered his way roughly past one of the other leaders, who had been readying themselves to speak. Though not completely outside his character, it was bold even for Hawkstar. Despite the mutterings, he did have their attention. “Cats of the Clans!” His voice rang out over the crowd. There was something uncanny about how well it carried. Despite not being a shout, he as easily as audible as though he were standing among them. Yet even in this he wasn’t quite right. It was imperceptible. The quality of his tone simply screamed wrong to Ospreyshadow. “I thank you for your time and your attention. What I have to say is brief, but of vital importance. Your very lives depend on it.” A hush as still as the morning snow befell the gathering. “I have observed for countless moons the hypocrisy of the Clans. We all preached the Code the day we took our vows as Warriors, yet those are but words if they are not heeded. And the hypocrisy in the forest has become a disease. Warriors pay lip service to chivalry and honor, but in our dens we are no better than a common rogue.” “I myself am not of this mind, so I shall say it now before the heavens themselves! I have laid with the tom beside me.” His tail-tip came to rest on Juncostar’s shoulder. More gasps, accompanied by a few choice expletives, went up around the hollow. Cats were turning their heads, hissing whispers and glaring at Hawkstar. “Yet I am hardly unusual!” He turned once more to face the crowd. “Look down before you and behold the children of Wisteriastar……and Hornetstar.” He bared his teeth and fixed his amber gaze upon Waspsight, Fennelsting and Rowanshade of ShadowClan. From their reactions, many deduced what the truth was. Many of the voices in the clearing were turning into shouts and snarls. “Corruption at the highest level! And where are they now, you may ask. It is no wonder that their disappearances coincided. The rules were chafing them, so they abandoned those they swore to protect.” “And outliers they are not! Copperstar has fathered half-clan kits himself. Carrying on the legacy, hm?” He leered unpleasantly at the orange-and-white tom beside him. It was difficult to tell from his vantage point, but Ospreyshadow would confidently swear that one of his grandfather’s amber eyes was….blue. “The Clans even went to war over this mixing of blood! ShadowClan and RiverClan are the worst offenders by far. But no cat is free of flouting the code when it pleases them. Shiveringleaf and Windystar, where is Windystar now hm? Was it worth it? You clearly weren’t. But I suppose a cat of half-rogue heritage wouldn’t be. A wonder how ShadowClan can even trust you now.” "And we cannot forget Sleekfeather, another half-clan brat. Your sin isn't even original. You cling to Auroraskies for relevance, she should choose her friends with more discretion." He stopped, appearing to take pause to allow the full effect of his words to engulf all who were present. But from the gleam in his eyes, it was clear that he clutched yet more secrets to his breast. And before the night was over, he would relinquish them all.

Hawkstar was a shadow, less than a cloud passing over the moon as he flitted featherlight across enemy territory. It was the dead of night, the frozen ground prone to unforgivingly noises footsteps. But he required darkness. With his black pelt, it was his only ally when it came to being sneaky. And StarClan knew, if he was caught there would be blood. It was idiotic, suicidal even. But not exactly out of character. And he had a few lives to spare, after all. Also on his side was the lack of patrols at this hour. Though it did not include night guards, he was not surprised to see the entrance well guarded. Though he was not so dense as to try and waltz through the front door. Instead he hugged the frigid earth with his slender body and slunk around the thorn-fence barrier until he knew that he was separated from Juncostar’s den by a few brambles. He used his mouth to make a small hole, snapping twigs and bending back sprouts. It did create some noise, though Juncostar was the only cat it was likely to disturb, barring any major issues. It wasn't long before he’d made an opening big enough to fit through. He was lucky to be as small and slight as he was, he thought while squeezing his way in. The den was nice and warm, and there was something inviting about the way Juncostar was sprawled across his nest like someone had just tossed him there haphazardly. Reluctantly Hawkstar nudged him in the ribs with a paw, gently at first, then increasing with urgency when he failed to rouse. “Juncostar? Psssst, hey, wake up.” He hissed.

Hawkstar entered ShadowClan camp briskly, with Ospreyshadow treading so closely behind them that their steps missed brushing one another by inches. Thing time Ospreyshadow was noticeably more cowed, sticking close to his kin and Leader and not making any eye contact. Not that he needed to do so much as breathe to ruffle pelts in the camp. But after the talk they’d had before departing, he ought to be on his best behavior, or so Hawkstar hoped. He’d seen how distraught Ospreyshadow truly was that his tactlessness had resulted in such a spiral of violence and death. But Hawkstar supposed it was easier for him to empathize with his grandson. He knew of his troubles with communicating well enough to see past the bluntness with which he spoke. They made quick progress to Juncostar’s den, escaping with just a few stray hisses and looks. The scent of Juncostar washed over Hawkstar when they padded inside, causing a slight swooping sensation in his belly. He wrote it off as nerves. After all, if today didn’t go well would they be forced to fight again? Bloodying each other until nothing was left? He decided not to even go there. “Greetings Juncostar.” He dipped his head respectfully and Ospreyshadow followed suit, but remained himself silent. “I suppose we’ve got to figure out….how best to compromise.” Hawkstar grunted, shifting uneasily. “I’ve gone over and over it in my head. In the past, Clans have always awarded the litter to one or the other. I’ve never heard of Clans trying to share members– after all, conflict rears its ugly head eventually. And a Warrior must pledge themselves only to one Clan. Being half-raised in another would just make them torn, I would imagine.” He shook his head wearily. “I don’t know, Juncostar, what are you thinking?”

Hawkstar meandered towards his den foggily. His brain felt taxed to its limits, with the angry voices of his Clanmates still ringing in his ears. Hardly any of them approved of the motion to go to war over the litter of kits. He held tightly to the few voices of support he’d gotten, and avoided many a gaze as he slipped inside his den, eager to nestle into his mate’s side and breathe in her comfort. He frowned at the emptiness that greeted him. Where…was his nest? The large plush nest he spent his nights on was gone, just a few scraps remained in its place. He ducked his head back outside, blinking blearily. Was he now so tired that he was seeing things? The camp was empty once more, the majority of Warriors having gone back to sleep. A cold wind solitarily stirred the camp. He finally laid eyes on the nest– in the middle of the camp? He blinked several times. He was definitely seeing this. His nest had been dragged out to the middle of the frostbitten camp, and beside it sat his mate. And she did not look happy. He trotted over, still so numb from shock that he lacked the precipice of fear that was slowly rising in his belly. “Chant, hey, um, why is my nest outside? Did it have fleas in it?” He bent down as though to inspect it, but kept a wary eye trained on her.

A few inches of fresh powder had fallen on the territories the night before. It crunched noisily as the battle party made its way to the pointed stones, silent but for their footfalls. The mood was surly and sour, not aided at all by the blistering cold. Hawkstar made no attempt at smalltalk. He knew there was no point. He’d made all the proclamations that could be made back at the camp, to a stony reception. The anguish he felt at the bald-faced opposition of his Clan clawed at his gut. It was too late to back out now, even if he had been rash, what could be done? At this juncture, it was all he could do to call upon the initial anger he’d felt to propel him through the no-man’s land of his own choices. He only hoped no one else would be felled along the way. I still don’t think I’m completely wrong. He thought irritably, as he glanced over his shoulder at the collection of Warriors who had either volunteered or been selected for the fight. The group emerged from their brush cover and was instantly seized upon by the cold. The wind, which had previously shaken the trees, carded their pelts with icy fingers. Across the snow-capped rocks Hawkstar saw that ShadowClan was already present. For a few moments both Clans simply stood, shivering. It occurred to Hawkstar that Juncostar had also never led a battle party. What did one do under these circumstances? Was there protocol? He was leaning toward no. What was clean-cut or clear about something as ugly as war? He locked eyes with the other tom and his blood ran hot. Screw it. “ThunderClan, attack!” He yowled, springing forward with his claws outstretched. He closed the space between them fairly quickly, and lunged for Juncostar’s face with his claws.

Becoming The eight lives of Hawkstar Hawkbite followed Peachblossom through the damp labyrinthian tunnel with a litany of complaints tumbling from his mouth. He’d made no secret how annoying he found her vague explanation for why he needed to accompany her. He’d assumed that she simply wanted a bodyguard for a trip to speak with StarClan. A wise decision, given the state of the murders that had taken place. He’d suggested they bring more than one Warrior as an escort, but she’d insisted on just him. An autopsy of the horrifically mutilated bodies of Alderpaw and Lilywing had indicated only one attacker, so he could probably handle any trouble, but why not be safe rather than sorry? “Do I really have to be in here with you?” He grumbled, once they had reached the mooncave itself, a vast underground chamber populated with glowing stones in the ceiling. Even Hawkbite took a break from whining to appreciate it. His eyes cast upward, jaw agape as though preparing to catch rain. His awe was swiftly replaced by unease. The air was thick with spiritual energy, he could practically feel the weight of the undead pressing against his fur. Ick, he thought with a shiver. “I could wait outside, no one’s gonna get in here without me noticing...” With that, he began inching towards the exit. Peachblossom knew what she wanted, she knew what was best for her clan, she wasn't planning on taking no for an answer. Their journey had been filled with silence, she didn't mean to ignore Hawkbite, but if he had spoken to her she wouldn’t have heard him anyways. All she could hear was the loud thumping of her heart, her nerves fighting her every step of the way. Starclan had been slow to answer her questions, she wasn't waiting any longer, Thunderclan needed a leader, if Starclan was too daft to realize who was fit to lead her clan then she would bring the answer to them. What stupid ghost. So much for our “Wise Ancestors'' The feeling that rushed through the molly everytime she stepped paw into the moon cave was indescribable. It reminded her of her role in the world, the gift she was cursed with, and the emotions that came with being Starclans pawn. Her entire body relaxed as they became fully engulfed in the cave, ears flicked once Hawkbites words finally found their way to her. “You have to be here with me.” A smile hidden on her muzzle at Hawkbites initial awe of the second home-like cave she got to visit often. Better get used to it. Her face fell into a pout as the tom tried to weasel his way out of the wave, her teeth lightly gripping the tom's tail, giving it a tug to halt the warrior. “Don’t you dare go anywhere, stupid.” Her voice was obstructed by the black fur. Releasing Hawkbites' tail, Peachblossom moved to shove the tom further into the cave with her. “Now sit your ass down and take a nice little nap.” Settling down, demonstrating to the tom what he should do. “You’ll understand soon Hawkbite.” She mumbled, allowing the sleep to overtake the molly. Slowly blinking open, her eyes took a moment to adjust to their new scenery, the starry forest surrounding the peachy cream molly, normally they were already waiting to greet her but this time, coming unannounced the normal pain in her ass Starclanners were nowhere to be found. Swallowing hard Peachblossom shook off her nerves before summoning their ancestors. “Hey dumb asses, since you cant seem to pick a leader, I decided to pick my own. I present you Hawkbite, now give him his lives so I can go home.” Her eyes locked on the black tom cat, an excited smile plastered on her muzzle, surely he would be pleased with her decision. “Ouch! Jeez, Peach.” Hawkbite grumbled when she grabbed his tail, and with her mouth of all things. It didn’t really hurt, not even a little bit, but he was a bit of a drama queen when his pride was injured. He sat down, licking his tail where she had ‘bitten’ him with baleful glances in her direction. He was utterly unprepared for the wave of exhaustion that rolled over his body like thunder. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he flinched yet felt no impact. Instead, he was lying in a beautiful forest knoll. The air was tepid with a twist of warmth, like early summer. The plant life all around them was lush and green, so much so that it took on an air of unreality. Hawkbite realized with a start, he’d been here before. Which meant that this had to be StarClan’s hunting grounds. Why did they call it that, anyways? Surely dead cats had no need of food, and therefore hunting? His anxious mind zeroed in on inane details to fight against the panic that threatened to overtake him. Hawkbite was by no means a devout cat, his opinion of StarClan was skeptical at best. He’d never glimpsed any solid proof of their existence or power, unless he counted his near-death experience during the battle against Razor’s gang. And frankly he was still not convinced he hadn’t hallucinated it all. But here before him was undeniable proof. And if they existed, then there was a very real chance they were every bit as powerful as he had been told. Hawkbite was suddenly quite grateful he was not alone. “Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa.” Hawkbite exclaimed once Peachblossom’s words reached the part of his brain that made sense of reality. He had been momentarily disarmed by the downright sardonic tone with which she addressed the allegedly omnipotent StarClan. She really has no fear, he thought with a mixture of awe and incredulity. “Peach you just can’t– I can’t– y-you’ve gotta tell someone. Gods, why didn’t you talk to me before this?” A beat later, a cat appeared before them. Its body simply faded into the foreground without preamble. A pelt made of starlight itself, slightly opaque, this is a StarClan cat. “How dare you?” A voice like thunder boomed, its heady weight filling the air. Although there was no doubt that it originated from the specter before them, it seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once. “We have tolerated your impudence for many a moon, Peachblossom,” The spirit, a tom, continued. “But this is beyond your ken. I suppose this cat is your puppet, you cannot take control yourself but intend to do so through this weak-willed tom? You will be Peachstar in all but name?” “Weak-willed? Hang on!” Hawkbite snapped out of the fearful daze cast by the StarClan cat. “You don’t even know me! Also, how dare you talk to her like that? Gravelstar’s been gone for weeks! And not a peep out of our ‘guiding ancestors’? Things have been a mess in ThunderClan and you’re all up here sitting on a cloud, what, braiding each other's fur? What was Peach supposed to do?” His lips had curled back to reveal shining white teeth. “Oh, we know you, Hawkbite of ThunderClan.” The cat replied, a sneer twisting his mouth. “We have watched you since the first day you set paw on our soil. Do not think we have forgotten how you spoke of clan life when you first arrived. What else are we meant to think when she puts forth such a jape for leadership? You pollute this holy place with your presence.” “Oh pollute yourself.” Hawkbite scoffed, unsure if his retort made any sense but too irate to care. “You see?” The cat now turned to Peachblossom. “He rejects leadership. We cannot induct the unwilling. Return to us when you are serious.” And with that his form began to waver once more into nonexistence. “Hey! Wait! I didn’t reject anything.” Hawkbite felt a stab of panic. If Starclan abandoned them once more, what would become of ThunderClan? Picking their own Leader could result in the once-great Clan breaking into factions that warred each for their own candidate. At the very least the informal chain of command would continue, and once their neighbors got wind of it they would be in trouble. “So you accept Leadership then?” The tomcat’s eyes narrowed in displeasure. Hawkbite enjoyed seeing that expression on the old codger’s face. As if the mere thought of Hawkbite leading ThunderClan made this particular cat sick. “Sure.” He grinned, reveling in the way his response caused the StarClan cat to flinch with displeasure. In the moment he was running on pure unadulterated spite. There would be time later to examine the consequences of his present actions. “Very well. Upon your heads be it.” He blinked, and then they were before him. Seated comfortably, as though they’d always been there. A spread of insubstantial feline forms that overlapped one another to create a glittering mosaic. For a moment he felt awed. First among the ethereal consorts to step forward was a cat Hawkbite recognized. If he had thought that in his youth, he bore a resemblance to the tom standing before him, it was nothing compared to the uncanny feeling of looking into such an exact copy of his own face as it was now, many years after the fact. The same black fur, medium length. His highly arched cheekbones, and the half-hearted mane of dark fur that framed them. Darkstorm broke into a broad smile when their eyes met, amber on green. The only difference. “Hawkbite, it is good to see you again.” He intoned in his deep rumbly voice. “Darkstorm, hey.” Hawkbite replied, slightly uneasily. Although he was overjoyed to see Darstorm again, with his presence came the flood of traumatic context that surrounded their last meeting. With the benefit of time, Hawkbite had enshrined his memory of his ‘brush’ with death in layers of skepticism. He was young, distraught, and in the fight of his life. It was easy to dismiss his spiritual experience as a hallucination born of panic. But confronted once more with proof of the afterlife, he was forced to accept what had happened without scrutiny. “I am glad that we meet under more favorable circumstances, this time around.” Darkstorm chuckled, as if reading Hawkbite’s mind. Wait, could they do that? StarClan are a bunch of old geezers who still suckle from their mother’s teets. He thought, while watching Darkstorm’s face carefully for any sign he could hear him. But his expression betrayed no hint one way or the other, frustratingly enough. “Me too.” Hawkbite chuckled, loosening up a tad. StarClan or no, Darkstorm was still his father’s brother. His kin. In all likelihood, he wasn’t one of the cats that he needed to worry about. “Some of us you know,” Darkstorm continued. Hawkbite saw more than one face that made his heart lurch painfully. “Some of us you do not. But we have all gathered here in this holy place to bestow a gift upon you that many have received before. Tonight we place the power of the stars in your soul. You will leave tonight a different cat than you arrived. And you will take on the burdens, the joys, and the responsibility of every beating heart in ThunderClan. If you accept, there is no turning back.” “I do. I mean, I accept.” Hawkbite replied evenly. He had expected that the insurmountable responsibility that lay before him would frighten him. Not unlike the fear he had felt when Chanterellefrost had told him she was pregnant with their first litter. But he found that with this, he felt….hungry for it. He yearned deeply for the chance to take up the mantle. To be father, mentor, Leader to ThunderClan. To shield them, to support them, and to guide them through every hardship and every triumph. The idea was not something he’d ever thought of before– after all most cats spent time serving as Deputy first, and thus it was precluded if they were of age that leadership was not a far-off goal. But for Hawkbite, it was all at once. Yet he still knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted it. Maybe some hidden part of him had all along. “Cedarsmoke will be proud when he hears.” Darkstorm nodded, and walked forward. Hawkbite instinctively backed up. “If you’ll hold still…” “Right, sorry.” He winced. “Not often I get to do this twice.” Darkstorm winked, and before Hawkbite had a chance to ask what he meant, pain like he’d never known blossomed where Darkstorm’s muzzle brushed his forehead. He could hear his voice as if from miles away. “With this life I give you bravery. But remember, bravery is not with us only when we seek battle– but also when we choose to flee. Bravely face the right choices, whatever they may be.” Accompanying the words were images that flashed hazily before Hawkbite’s mind’s eye. A pair of young tomcats, black and tabby gray, facing off with a massive black-and-brown dog that was clearly rabid. Hawkbite felt a sting of anxiety, for he knew that even one bite was a death sentence. But no sooner had he thought it the beast sank its teeth deep into the black tomcat’s shoulder. The gray tabby fled as his companion cried out for him to save himself. It was hard to watch. Yet he knew in his heart of hearts there was nothing to be gained if the other had stayed and fought. He could not even give mercy to his kinsman. The danger of infection was too potent. By the time the visions had ceased, Darkstorm was back among the throng of glittering bodies. They shimmered and shined like the stars themselves were woven into their pelts. Each cat wore a peaceable expression, trained on him. Thunderclan had seen much tragedy of late. With their deputy and leader gone and new leadership needed, Hawkbite had seemed like as good a choice as any. There were so many promising Thunderclan cats that could take up the reins and lead their clanmates, and yet Hawkbite had remained Starclan's decision. Further tragedy had overcome Thunderclan when the life of a positive, optimistic young apprentice and his parents were cruelly taken by, despite how unbelievable it was, another cat. Said apprentice had been called upon to give a life to Hawkbite, and he had been honored that it was to be his first task as a cat of Starclan. Alderpaw fluffed up his chest fur, sitting himself more upright next to the other Starclan cats surrounding him, he felt so small and bashful beside them. If he were any more of a self-conscious cat he would have been tempted to turn tail and hide himself away and pretend he had forgotten about the ceremony altogether. But Alderpaw wasn't a self-conscious cat, in fact he was the polar opposite. He greeted Hawkbite with a warm smile, a wise twinkle to his star-filled eyes, his starry tail curled around starry paws. The young tom listened attentively as those who went before him gave their lives to the new Thunderclan leader. As it came to his turn, the young tom stood, ears perking up as he padded forward from the group. "Hawkbite, it's nice to see you here...!" He mewed, bowing his head as the black tom approached him. "I didn't expect to be given the privilege to give you a life... but I'm very flattered!" He glanced around at his Starclan companions, and then further into the crowds of Starclan cats to catch the eyes of his parents, sitting in the crowd watching him. Looking back to Hawkbite, he breathed in deeply. "Hawkbite, with this life I give you a life for protection. Use it not just to protect those in Thunderclan, but all of the clans from evil. Don't forget to use your gift to search beyond the borders for the answers to protect Thunderclan." The small ginger tom nodded, seemingly satisfied with his words. He leaned up, touching his nose to Hawkbite's, closing his eyes as he allowed the life to flow into the leader. The life was full of pain and rage, a raw feeling of instinct taking over and the desire to protect those who relied on you from any kind of harm. It was eye-watering and overwhelming, and it threatened to drag you down into a pit of fury. Hawkbite felt the terror of Alderpaw’s last moments in his bones. Intricate shapes of pain burned on his flesh, yet he dared not open his eyes to see them. He still remembered only too vividly the grotesque designs made of the body they had found and felt no desire to relive it. Ugly laughter filled his ears, a voice encouraging him to cry as loudly as he wished but promising that no one would hear him. The killer! Hawkbite realized with a start. He had to see who this monster was. But when he opened his eyes he was back in the forest of StarClan. Once he was satisfied that Hawkbite had truly accepted the life, Alderpaw stepped back and dipped his head to him. "Take care of the clan." He mewed, voice cracking a little. Finally, he returned to the half-circle of Starclan cats to give way to the next cat. “Aldperaw! Wait! Who was it? Who killed you?” He shouted at the small retreating form. But Alderpaw did not acknowledge him, and soon he could not distinguish his smaller body among the sea of ghosts.. The next cat to step forward was small, just the size of a kitten no more than a few weeks of age. But he’d know her in the dark. Gentle brown color points and baby blue eyes for which she had been named. Ocean. Her legs still wobbled when she walked in the way the kittens do before they have fully mastered their own bodies. But Ocean had never gotten the chance to. Fever had stolen her future, as Hawkbite slept beside her wishing it had been him instead. “Hey bubba.” She squeaked, gazing up at him like no time at all had passed since their last meeting. Like he did not tower above her, the picture of adulthood she would never know. How was she not angry? He wondered. She’d deserved so much more. His heart gave out at the sound of the old nickname she’d used for him, Ocean had been too young to form words very well. Hawk was a tough one. She’d never gotten past ‘Haw’. “You’re sooo big!!” Ocean giggled, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. Had he really been that small himself once? It seemed impossible. “I miss you!! They say…they say you come join us. Later.” “I-I promise. I will.” His voice cracked. She grinned and nodded vigorously, expression shifting into one of contemplation. It’s okay, bubba, I know you still feel sad and you and mama miss me. But I’m okay. I’m with Lily, we’re waiting. But it’s fun here!” Somewhere in the ranks behind her, a cat cleared their throat audibly as though to remind her that others still waited. It annoyed Hawkbite. They were all dead and immortal, after all. But he also knew that no time with his little sister would ever be enough. Not truly. Ocean ducked her head with a shy smile, and motioned for him to lower his head. Try as she might, she couldn’t reach his forehead even on her tippy toes. She braced her forepaws against his cheeks and brushed her small velvety nose on his brow. “With this life I…um…” “I give you forgiveness.” Darkstorm hissed quietly from the sidelines, his eyes sparkling good-naturedly. Ocean glanced over her shoulder and bobbed her head. “Yeah! Forgiveness. It’s important to forgive yourself, too. I hope you can.” This time the pain was heady. It didn’t burn the way his first life had, but rather pulled him down like a yoke of lead. He was faint, feverish, and small. The sweet smell of his mother filled his nose and somewhere, a young tom’s voice hummed an old familiar loner’s lullaby that he hadn’t heard in seasons. Despite how weak he felt, he also felt safe and loved. He felt as if he was very tired, doing his best to stay awake. But someone who loved him was saying it was okay to rest now. And just like that, she retreated too soon to sit among the other spirits. Her last moments slipped away from him, his throat too constricted to say any more. Another kitten approached. This time it was Lily, his other late sister. Lily had passed much older than Ocean, having fallen from the rafters of a barn when they were playing at around four moons of age. Tragically, she’d not died on impact but lingered a few hours in great pain as they tried to no avail to find help from either beast or man. The cat who strode toward him now bore none of that suffering in her bright smile. Lily’s pelt was longer, like his own, and flowed weightlessly with trails of starlight when she moved. She came to a stop just before him, still seeming smaller than he could ever remember himself being. The mere sight of which sent scalding tears down his cheeks. They were both so young. Seeing his sisters made Hawkbite realize how much for granted he now took the safety of kits among a Clan. Although his own first litter took their first steps on his trip to see his mother, his second as well as all kits in the forest had a safety he’d never known in his own childhood. A safety he believed cats of all backgrounds deserved. “H-hey Lily.” He finally managed after a beat of silence. His voice was raw and congested from the tears he was holding back. “Hey yourself.” She laughed, with an air of maturity that he imagined she’d gained in her time among the stars. “It’s good to see you. I-I never thought I would see any of you again.” He admitted. In hindsight, it seemed a tad ridiculous to think that affiliation would matter in the afterlife, but the Clans took their borders so seriously that Hawkbite had naturally expected that they would do the same in the afterlife. Yet here was his lost kin, all the same. “Yeah! Pretty lucky you went and joined a bunch of devout forest-dwellers. Never woulda guessed it would lead to seeing eachother again. But I'm glad it did,” She grinned in a reckless manner that reminded him of Oceanstorm. In truth, it was the reverse with his sisters. Ocean had died uite young, but Lily was the adventurous one. Oceanstorm and her would have been very close, he thought. “They all say it was destiny,” Lily continued, with a jerk of her head back at the group of other spirits. “But honestly, doesn’t that mean nothing you chose mattered? Dunno– I like to think you kept ‘em guessin. Someone ought to.” She winked. “Now…shall we?” “Right! Yes.” Hawkbite inclined his head slightly. Lily met him halfway with a tender touch of her nose to his temple. “With this life I give you caution. You’re almost as bad as I was, and I'm a kid. Remember that when you make decisions as a Leader, they affect not just yourself.” This time Hawkbite felt reasonably prepared for the pain he had come to expect from these exchanges. Yet he still felt that he barely kept his composure as sensations of death and broken bones rendered throughout his body. He could hear the laughter of kittens, feel coarse wood under his paws– then suddenly only air. Pain. Pain like he’d never known, blinding and all-encompassing. The gentle caress of a loved one as he sighed his last breath. “I’m sorry Lily.” He mumbled when it was all over. “It should’ve at least been you and me, together. You’d have loved ThunderClan.” “Eh, you’ve got an awful lot of rules over there, Hawk.” Lily said with a scrunched-up nose. “Might wanna fix that when you’re the head honcho. And honestly? Let us go, a little. Many things should have been, in a perfect world. But I'm at peace now, I want that for you too.” Hawkbite could only nod as her retreating footsteps left him feeling lighter, but still a bit sad. He did not have much time to dwell upon his feelings of grief or regret before the layered crowd of opaque bodies was shifting once more to produce an adult cat he’d never seen before. The molly strode boldly over toward him, her eyes a sharp green and narrowed slightly. Her pelt appeared to be a light fawn color, though it had seen better days even in life evidently. The gray about her muzzle told him that this she-cat had attained many years before her passing. “Greetings.” She rasped in a voice befitting of a tough, older cat. “I am Fawnspring, I lived and died in service to ThunderClan long before you were drooling on your first day of life in that filthy city.” Hawkbite felt an immediate flash of irritation. It was inevitable that he would encounter more Starclan-snobs, but it didn’t mean he had to take it lying down. “Anyways, step forward before I change my mind now.” Hawkbite heard mutterings from the crowd behind her which assuaged his annoyance. It seemed Fawnspring wasn’t popular with Starclan either. Yeah, bet you were just a peach in life too, he thought irritably. “With this life I give you diligence. Gather your strong days as a mouse gathers food for the winter, for you will need them to give to your Clan in their darkest hour.” The sensations that gripped Hawkbite when Fawnspring roughly pressed her nose to his forehead were unexpected. From her grave tone and brisk manner he’d anticipated a flash of a dull colorless life befitting of the curmudgeon who’d lived it. Yet the images that came were quite colorful. They depicted a young fiery cat, and were imbued by passionate love. A roguish handsome tomcat filled his view, followed by two mewling kits- a stumpy-tailed brown tabby and a skinny gray one. A plump brown tabby kitten scaled a tree as he pleaded for her to be careful. Yet she did not heed him, ascending higher and higher until she was lost among the cloud of leaves. The scene shifted, and he now saw the same brown tabby her hind leg in a cast of cobwebs and rush leaves; she lay in what he recognized as the Medicine Cat’s den clearly holding back tears. And then, suddenly, she was grown before his eyes. But there was yelling, harsh words fell between them like blows; he wanted to stop but the hateful vitriol that poured from his mouth was out of his control. And then she was walking away. Her form grew more distant until it disappeared behind a hill leading into WindClan lands, the pain of her going lodged in his heart like a splinter. In that very moment Hawkbite wanted to scream: No! Come back! I’m sorry! But it was not his eyes through which he took in the scene, not his mouth to command. Deep, bone-weary regret filled the remaining gray days until with a burst of feverish pain he surfaced from the memories. Did you ever make peace with your daughter, Fawnspring? He very nearly voiced the question but saw that Fawnspring was already rejoining the others. This time he felt a pang of sadness when he saw how widely they parted for her. Next came a face that Hawkbite hadn’t seen or thought of since before he had even come to the forest, but as soon as he recognized them anguish filled his heart. Another young death.. The cat making his way to him was no older than 12 moons, possibly even less. His fur was a deep russet, darker along the spine and scruffy in various patches throughout. Around his neck he wore a red bandanna, of the same make and cloth as Hawbite’s own. “Dodger..” He murmured, transfixed until a sharp laugh shattered the tense silence. “Long time no see! Betcha never reckoned we’d meet here again of all places.” Dodger barked, taking a glance around as though only noticing where they were. “I..I would have imagined you’d be alive, if we did.” Hawkbite tried to swallow the lump in his throat. But Dodger didn’t miss a beat. “Yeahhh,” He groaned, seemingly unbothered by his deceased state. “ Don’t worry, it wasn’t Razor. But you should really look both ways if you’re ever in the city again.” Hawkbite thought that he detected a trace of bitterness in his voice, but he did not have long to linger on it. Dodge was pressing his nose to his forehead, and he felt the familiar pull beneath waves of consciousness. The memories that greeted him were familiar once more, images of himself as a young tom wrestling with Dodger this time from the other tom’s point of view. A fireball sun sleeping behind dark outcroppings of buildings as two tom cats raced each other down back alleys. They vaulted off of trash cans, of boxes and other human junk cluttering the passage. Hawkbite felt the heat of the sun on his nape, the coldness of nights embrace reaching up with promising arms and possibilities of midnight adventures to be had. He couldn’t remember feeling this young or free in his entire life. But before he knew it, he was blindsided by pain. Screeching metal filled his ears, so loud that he thought for a heartbeat his head itself might burst. It faded gradually as he returned to his own body, filled with a regret he could not name. “With this life I give you responsibility. It can be a great burden at times, but without it we stand only on our own four feet. When we’re alone, with no one to watch our backs, it’s easier to slip up. Cats are not islands. We were meant to support each other.” “I wish…..” He began. But he had no clue what to say. The monster of guilt that had risen when he’d realized his childhood friend was dead had been weaker than others he’d faced in the past. Long nights of battles against the voices in his head had prepared him to swat away the beginnings of blame. He knew it hadn’t been his fault. He could now distinguish his deep desire for things to be different for what it was, not mistake it for culpability. To accept his abject helplessness against tragedies like this was not to relinquish control, but to acknowledge control had never been his to begin with. “Me too.” Dodger turned away, his smile still intact, but Hawkbite thought he saw it slip at the last second. The next cat who approached him, a sleek brown-and-white tabby she-cat who smelled of the sea, wasn't someone he recognized. At least not initially. Though he strongly felt that he did know her. Her fur shone like rippling waves and bounced weightlessly with each step, a twinkle on her evergreen gaze. “Well, you don’t know me. But we did glimpse each other during battle, and when RiverClan came to take my body away. But I don’t blame you for not remembering– you were comforting your mate.” She shot him a cheeky grin. “As well you should have been. She still blames herself, but I wish she didn’t. I could’ve slipped fighting anyone. Could've fallen out of a tree on my own. Or been bitten by a snake, or had a log fall on me. Death awaits us all.” “Oh I’m Swiftstream by the way.” “Er…” Hawkbite was completely disarmed by her effect. It was a far cry from the dignified ghosts behind her. He thought he glimpsed some shuffling and sidelong glances from them, and it made him warm instantly to Swiftstream. He was ready and willing for her touch, even though he knew by now that it could not come without pain. He saw a wide array of images. A white she-cat who smelled of milk, gazing dispassionately down at him while he cried, a thorn protruding from a tiny kit-paw. Anger was the chief emotion that rose within. Why doesn’t she care about me? Then he was running beside littermates, but they each fell away veering off into shadow. Running, running, even though he couldn't remember any longer why he was. Then the battle, he remembered it as soon as the scene faded into view. This time he had a bird’s eye perspective. His flank stung, but he was swatting ferociously at his opponent all the same. He was shocked to see that it was none other that Chanterellefrost that he was up against– back then she’d been only an apprentice. He had since become familiar with her battle-face, but it was still unnerving to be on the receiving end even if only as a half-remembered memory not his own. A slip. One, small, meaningless little misstep and he was falling through open air. The ground rose rapidly to meet him, yet he never felt the impact. He simply dropped back into his own skin, a tad dizzy when he opened his eyes again to look at Swiftstream. “With this life I give you acceptance.” She murmured, suddenly stoic. “Accept what you cannot change. For you cannot control how others will think or act, only your own choices.” She started to turn away, but paused. “But… if you meet a RiverClan Warrior named Blankstone, tell her that her daughter is ready to talk, whenever she ever is.” The last feline to step forward was a tom whose pelt was so pale that his silver form was hardly visible to the naked eye, but the stars that shone around him were as vibrant and full of life as the most vigorous warrior. His golden eyes shone in the reflection of the moon as he looked down to lock eyes with the black tom. “Greetings, Hawkbite,” the tom spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse, almost as though he had not used it in seasons upon seasons. “My name is Slatestar. I have not walked the same grounds as the living for many, many moons.” The tom’s very form flickered to reflect this statement, like he may disappear from sight at any moment. “I was the first warrior to lead RiverClan. Whispers of my legacy are but mere fables to those who live today.” With how many years had passed since his lifetime, it was only natural that he was at risk of being forgotten. Spirits faded, just like everything else did. Once their memory was gone, so were they. However, because his reign left such an impact on the history of the Clans themselves, the names of the original founders were still uttered among elders today. Hawkbite’s jaw fell open. He was not intimately aware of RiverClan lore, but even he could recognize that being in the presence of a founder was kind of a big deal. Before him stood a pillar of the life he now lived, the purpose that flowed in his veins. “Without Wildstar or Gravelstar, who preceded you, I am here to bestow upon you the life of Unity. Accept it with great honor.” He continued, ignoring the other’s look of confusion as to why a RiverClan leader, of all cats, was here for his ceremony- to bequeath him as the leader of ThunderClan. Slatestar bent down and pressed his snout to the tom’s head, transferring a piece of himself to the other with the gesture. He waited for the sensation to sate Hawkbite before he pulled away. “As a Clan leader, not only are you responsible for the lives and wellbeing of your clanmates and your Clan as a whole, but you also must coexist with the other Clans that you share life with. Without mutual respect- without compassion for your fellow feline, you have nothing. Do not lose sight of that.” “ThunderClan is under your guidance now. Lead them well. The confusion and disruption from Gravelstar’s leadership is still fresh among their hearts. For them, to have been without a leader or deputy after his disappearance, you are sure to face objections of many different kinds as you step into your new role.” A glimmer shone in the old tom-cat’s eyes. “But fret not. All is as it should be.” This time Hawkbite slid into the stream of memories as if he were diving beneath the waves. He saw the forest, even more wild and untamed than the one he knew. The foliage of this bygone era was tightly knitted, yet to be parted by the wanderings of cats. No camps or signs of life stirred. Prey did not even scatter when it saw the newcomers, for it did not know to be wary. Hawkbite saw the early construction of dens, the first ceremonies, the first deaths tha placed life among the stars. It was a humble, awe-inducing experience to behold. They were just cats, like us. But they changed everything. When he came to, there were too many questions he wanted to ask. But time was of the essence, he could feel a tugging at his bones that told him soon he would awaken. “Take care, Hawkstar.” The apparition lingered for but a heartbeat longer before he faded and the grounds of StarClan began to wane with the tom’s awakening. The first sensation he felt was the cold, hard stone against his cheek. Gingerly lifting his head, Hawkbite blinked fuzzily as the view of the brilliant mooncave came slowly into focus. Oh right...my name is Hawkstar now. He reflected vaguely, rolling the name around in his mind like a chewy piece of meat. He’d been Hawkbite for several years now, named for the ‘bite’ of his sarcastic words. Though he’d cooled off a bit, his sarcasm was still well and alive. So what did star mean? That he was the guy in charge? Surely there had to be a better way to indicate that. He sighed and propped himself up, before getting slowly to his feet. Peachblossom was waiting patiently for him, and after a moment to get his bearings they were back on the road to home with the meager beginnings of dawn to light their way. The birds were already up, chirping over the fallow valley. All was still save for the soft scrabbling of small prey rushing about before the sun fully rose. Hawkstar still felt numb. The reality of what had just occurred coming in waves that bowled him over each time he mentally stood back up. Responsibility. Diligence. Protection. Forgiveness. Caution. Bravery. Acceptance. Unity. Could he alone be all of those things to ThunderClan? He wondered as they passed from open fields and into sparse woodland. Could any cat? “Hey!” He came to an abrupt stop, and turned to Peachblossom. “They only gave me eight lives!”

Hey guys! Hawk’s roleplayer here, Chris. I’ve been wanting to do a character opinions exchange. Pretty simple, I have my characters backstory + personality listed here and you can either post your character's opinions of them, or request their opinions of your character by posting a short description or link to their bio. Or both. Both is good. Personality: Hawkbite is a charismatic and rebellious young tom with a taste for danger and excitement. He is also known to be quite hotheaded, but his anger comes from a place of deep caring and loyalty. He prefers to be clever rather than brawny, despite his Clan affiliation. Backstory: Hawkpaw was born outside of the Clans, though he has a ThunderClan father. He was always difficult to control, constantly antagonizing neighboring groups and getting into trouble. One day he went too far incurring the wrath of a very powerful gang of rogues. Fearing for her sons safety, his mother brought him to the Clans to live with his father. Hawkpaw hated the idea, and attempted to make everyone just as miserable as he was. Over time he formed genuine connections with those around him, and his thorny personality was softened much the way a river smooths a stone. Everything came to a head when the ghosts of his past came back to haunt him, putting everything he had gained at risk. In the end, Razor was killed and the newly christened Hawkbite was able to close that chapter of his life. He now embarks on a new journey as a part of something larger than himself. Hawkbite has learned by this point in his development, what it means truly to be apart of something greater than he is as he is chosen for the ultimate honor of clan Leader. But he still has much to learn. As Leader, Hawkstar disputes many time-honored traditions and holds a very isolationist view, not quite understanding that the Clans are more alike than they are different. Can he learn that much like himself when he first started upon his path to Warriorhood, ThunderClan cannot stand apart from the other Clans? Timeline info: Hawkstar is four years old, he joined at approximately seven months of age.