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ForestClan Backstory: Hope For The Future

((SO I still don't have my files back. So I'm still on hiatus. BUT I STILL HAVE MY GOOGLE DOCS. So you get my ForestClan Backstories for funsies. Enjoy!)))

SUMMARY: Hopechase was once a warrior named Lightfoot. What drove Redstar to give her this honor title?

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Redpath sat at the head of her circle of clanmates; the ones who stayed. Her revolutionaries, and the cowardly Chicoryglint. That was all. This was all that remained of ForestClan - the only cats who were still willing to try and save their home.

The pragmatic side of her understood completely, and was somewhat grateful for some departers. Cricketwing, Falconclaw and Stemfrost were some of Lakestar's staunchest supporters, and didn't want anything to do with her killer. Good riddance - she didn't care to have them in her Clan. Sprucetail, Fogpelt and Grousefeather were somewhat expected - they were drained and hollowed from all the death, and she wasn't surprised when Grousefeather announced his departure. She also understood when his two daughters followed. Tawnyshadow's departure hurt. More than she expected. She was hopeful that the elder would stay, but she couldn't be convinced. She was so, so tired. Her stories and history would die with her, in the warmth of a Twoleg nest, hopefully.

Redpath's hope crumbled when more joined the elder. Mallowpaw. Sablepaw. Oakbelly. Lichenlight. Sagefur, bringing Cardinalkit with her.

She did not plead for them to stay. She had no right.

And now, here she was. In the cold of a leafbare afternoon, she had ForestClan in her paws. Broken, cold and afraid, like a baby bird pushed out of the nest, looking at her with fear and acceptance.

Redpath finally tore her gaze away from the snow, and looked at her Clanmates properly.

Iciclepool, her friend, her closest ally. Lightfoot, her blue eyes soft with understanding. Ferncreek, standing beside his son, Windpaw; both toms looking tired and wary. Cloudthunder and Barleywave, two young warriors who dared to hope for something greater. And Chicoryglint, her expression unreadable.

Eight. ForestClan used to have twenty cats. Now, there were eight. She didn't expect that to hurt as much as it did. But the longer she thought about it, the more it stung. She was not trustworthy. Certainly not to Lakestar's loyalists, not to her elders, not to clanmates she watched suffer under Lakestar's rule. She did all of this for them, but in the end, only eight remained.

She hoped, and prayed, that StarClan still saw them as a Clan. That her friends still saw themselves as a Clan.

Lightfoot let out a soft purr, breaking the tension among them. "Well, this is wonderful, isn't it?"

Everyone stared at her with puzzled expressions.

"I think we'll make a great new ForestClan together. I wouldn't trust anyone else with the task than those who are here," Lightfoot meowed, twitching her whiskers in amusement.

"Lightfoot, come on, two thirds of us just left," Cloudthunder mumbled.

"I know. And I know we're disappointed by it." Lightfoot's tail swished. "But this is a new beginning, now, with Clanmates who chose to stay. And that matters."

Barleywave looked away, hiding ripples of feeling. Redpath couldn't blame him. Falconclaw was his father - and as much as he hated him, he grieved the father he never had. Cloudthunder blinked at Lightfoot tiredly. Iciclepool seemed lost in thought.

Lightfoot continued calmly. "I think we should take an afternoon to grieve - perhaps make ourselves a meal, no? Barleywave, you always wanted to learn more cooking tasks, didn't you?"

Barleywave flinched from being called upon, staring wide-eyed at the older molly. "Uh…I mean…yeah, I did, but, you know…"

Lightfoot tilted her head.

"Are you sure you want me to set everything on fire?" he joked dryly.

Cloudthunder exhaled sharply. Her whiskers twitched. "Come on, you aren't that bad."

Redpath blinked. "It would be fitting to make ourselves a meal, though. A new start?"

Ferncreek stood up. "I'll start the fire." He padded away before anyone could object, and Barleywave groaned.

"Oh good, I guess we're doing that now."

"Ferncreek has decided," Lightfoot teased.

"...Are we holding a Ritual for the Lost?"

Chicoryglint's voice came quiet and unassuming, but cutting. Pelts bristled on all ends as eyes fell on the old protector of secrets. Chicoryglint kept her composure, licking her paw before adding, "It's not necessary, of course. I do not expect one."

Liar. Redpath knew what kind of cat Chicoryglint was and she could tell the immediate backing down of her true intent. She saw it all the time whenever Lakestar showed a hint of animosity towards one of her questions.

"What do you think, Chicoryglint?" Iciclepool hissed, her ears flattening.

Chicoryglint faltered. "I - "

"Actually," Ferncreek interjected, a growl in his throat. He turned towards her. "I want to know why you thought we'd honor a tyrant in the first place."

Chicoryglint's dark blue eyes shielded her emotions like glass.

Windpaw bristled and stood up. "W-Wait, she didn't mean it like that. Chicoryglint and I...we're protectors of secrets. The Ritual of the Lost is used to reach StarClan, that's all. It's not about Lakestar."

"After everything Lakestar's done, why should she get the opportunity to reach StarClan?" Iciclepool hissed.

Windpaw turned to Redpath. "Redpath, you're the new secret keeper. You get to decide, not us."

"Windpaw, Redpath just tossed the foxheart to the woods, I don't think she wants to honor her," Barelywave hissed.

Redpath fought to stop her lips from curling. No, she did not want to have a funeral for the monster she just deposed.

However, despite everything, Lightfoot's presence and words always surprised her. And nothing surprised her more than this.

"I think we should."

Iciclepool whirled towards her. Her eyes widened with hurt.

"Uh...Lightfoot, do you have bees in your brain?" Cloudthunder asked, looking less angry; more concerned.

Lightfoot gazed towards Redpath calmly. "Redpath, can I explain?"

Redpath met her gaze incredulously. Out of all the cats - after seasons of watching Lakestar deteriorate and hurt and kill cats she loved, she did not understand why Lightfoot wanted a funeral. For a moment, she felt betrayed. She remembered every lash, every insult, every scream and hiss and order of execution Lakestar made. She remembered day after day, having to support her cruelty. She remembered every cat's hateful gaze; every spiteful whisper when they thought Redpath couldn't hear them. She hated every moment of it. She only tolerated it with the single-minded ambition of one day wrenching the lives from Lakestar's body and finally, finally, leading a Clan. One where no one would ever have to be afraid ever again.

One of the few cats to keep her sane and remind her that she was not a monster, was Lightfoot.

Lightfoot's expression was kind, and unchallenging. The older molly blinked slowly.

Redpath swallowed the knot in her throat. "...Explain yourself." Her command was sharp. Lightfoot bowed, then spoke.

"I think we should have a funeral, because I believe the actions of a new ForestClan cannot be ones that prioritize vengeance over hope, and growth. Our reasons for killing Lakestar cannot be remembered by lorekeepers as pure vengeance. If that is what we build our Clan on, then we will carry this with us as we rebuild ForestClan. I think we should have a Ritual of the Lost. Not to honor Lakestar, but to remind ourselves what the purpose of her death served. We all had our reasons beyond vengeance to overthrow her. We wanted a better future." Lightfoot's tail flicked. She held her composure as the entire Clan stared at her. "Before Lakestar became leader, I remember how she looked towards Birchstar. She was resentful of his rule. Large parts of the Clan were. They saw him as a coward." She looked out towards her Clanmates. "Do any of you remember the territory-search patrols, a long time ago?"

Iciclepool's pelt flattened, parsing Lightfoot's question. "Yes, I do. I think…I think I remember many cats being sent out, and…never coming back."

Cloudthunder's eyes widened. "Wait, really?"

"Once Birchstar died, Lakestar wanted to find us new territory, far from these woods," Chicoryglint added. Her gaze fixated the floor. "She…she sent out patrols of cats who were willing to make long journeys. But…none of them returned."

Lightfoot nodded. "It seemed like Lakestar wanted to make ForestClan better at first. But…" Lightfoot's ears folded back. "I don't know. After my uncle Rootgrove died, it was as if she gave up. I can't say I knew Lakestar before her madness began, but I can say one thing for sure," Lightfoot's gaze was sharp. "She was a profoundly angry cat. Her desire to seek new territory was to spite Birchstar, not make things better for ForestClan. Which is why I believe we can't move on without letting that go."

Redpath tensed. "...I'm sorry, Lightfoot. But I cannot forgive Lakestar."

Lightfoot recoiled, looking offended. "Forgive? Don't be mousebrained, I'm not forgiving a cat who sent our family and friends to die," she hissed. After a second to cool off, Lightfoot's ears perked back up. "Rather, I want to set a precedent. That we should be built on mercy, and looking forward."

There was a heavy silence that followed Lightfoot's words. They seemed to reach into everyone's hearts, and stir their sense of hope.

But for some, the hope was rooted in justice, and righteousness. Ferncreek's ears threatened to fold back. His tail twitched, and his eyes narrowed.

"Mercy to an enemy cannot come at the cost of their victims."

Redpath felt her claws rake the dirt. She agreed with Ferncreek.

"Mercy to a dead body does not create victims," Lightfoot stated.

"Lightfoot, I…if we have a funeral, I will have nothing merciful to say," Iciclepool added.

"I know, lovely Icicle." Lightfoot looked at her with softness, and empathy. "And I'm not expecting anyone to."

Barleywave rolled his eyes. "So, what? We're going to sit around in a circle and go, 'Lakestar, you're a foxheart, but we didn't hate you'? Like, that's a lie."

Redpath listened closely to Lightfoot's proposal. She absorbed her reasoning. In the turmoil of her pain, she grasped to Lightfoot's words.

Her desire to seek new territory was to spite Birchstar, not make things better for ForestClan.

She wrapped this thought like a caterpillar weaving a cocoon. She draped it in other thoughts, other stories. Like the stories of other revolutions that happened in ForestClan's history - leaders overthrown, replaced by new ones to change rules, only to fall again. No records of any overthrown leaders buried or marked on the oak tree. Change, built on pain until collapse was inevitable. But it never truly changed, not really.

The prophecy of the gentle camp, ringed in spears. Of a camp filled with cats of all shapes, sizes, beliefs and cultures. Of mountain lions with heads of hair like sunlight, and stripes like black branches. Kittypets with toys for kits, and stoic lynxes standing guard. Impossible, illogical, irrational peace, after generations of death and murder.

And outside those walls - spears ringed in starlight, fighting anything that dares to threaten them.

They did not have weapons inside the camp. They did not teach hatred or fostered vengeance in the camp. There were stories in ForestClan of cats dying to cougars and lynxes before. And yet, they were in the camp too.

"Uh, Redpath?"

Redpath blinked, and she realized that her Clan was staring at her. She paused, then shifted uncomfortably.

"Ah…yes?"

"What should we do?" Iciclepool asked.

Redpath stared out in front of her, lost in thought.

The butterfly was emerging from the cocoon.

I am seeking a better world for ForestClan. I did not kill Lakestar out of vengeance alone.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She…she was the leader of ForestClan now. She could change things. Make things different. She didn't have to be beholden by tradition, or habit, or the stories of the past.

She only hoped that her Clan - her friends? - would have the courage to follow her.

"As the leader of ForestClan, I…I seek to adjust the code we follow."

There was a murmur of confusion and a ripple of apprehension.

"I wish to add a ritual. A type of funeral. One that I will use for this evening, and only for this evening." She opened her eyes, and felt the eyes of her Clan upon her pelt. "A…A Ritual of…" She hesitated on a name. She remembered both Lightfoot and Ferncreek's words. She sighed, and started again, more firmly. "A Ritual of Mercy. For the victims of Lakestar's reign. For ourselves. The only difference is that we will tell Lakestar what her death served. We did not kill out of vengeance. We had reasons to do what we did. Good reasons. Visions of hope, of a better future. We will cement those reasons, and remember what ForestClan, our new ForestClan, is built upon."

There was an uneasy silence that lingered around them. Cats gauged each other's reactions, but all seemed as uncertain as the other.

Barleywave frowned. His ear twitched. "...Am I going to have to say nice things about her?"

Redpath scowled. "You better not. We're not doing that."

Cloudthunder rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Dear Lakestar, you died so that I could finally leave camp and there's nothing you can do about it."

Barleywave laughed in response, and a flicker of levity surged through the rest of the cats. Redpath smiled. "Well, yes. Things like that. Appreciation for what we will do in the future, for the sake of a better Clan."

"Lakestar, you died so that cats could leave camp in the future!" Cloudthunder corrected, yelling at the sky dramatically.

A mrrow of amusement was echoed between a few cats, and Lightfoot beamed as she got to her feet and shook out her fur.

"Dear Lakestar, you died so that I would be allowed to teach Barleywave how to cook properly," Lightfoot joked.

"Lakestar, you died so that I had the right to burn camp down," Barleywave chuckled.

"No, absolutely not, you're not burning it down," Iciclepool called out, getting to her feet with a smile.

Redpath watched as her Clan - sans Chicoryglint, who scuttled to the medicine den to find cooking herbs - gathered around the cooking fire and started making one-off declarations of grandeur. They cracked jokes, expressed hopes over what they would learn and do in the future, and started teaching each other how to properly cook.

Redpath's heart thundered. She had to have hope.

********

It took half an hour of cooking and preparing for the Clan to finally gather around the High Rock. Chunks of roasted mice were served on flat stone plates. Lakestar's favorite food was roasted vole, but they had none, Redpath wasn't going to find one for a tyrant's sake. She allowed them to eat their fill first - it gave her time to think of a better script than the one used for the Ritual of the Lost. She certainly wasn't going to ask StarClan to guide Lakestar's spirit…although, truthfully, she didn't know where she'd be. She didn't know why StarClan gave lives to Lakestar to begin with. She decided to put that thought aside. Lakestar was dead. That was all that mattered.

It felt strange, standing on the High Rock. A place where Lakestar stood to make these rituals, and issue her commands.

I will turn it into a place of hope, not fear.

As her Clan finished eating, and one by one they turned to look at her, she took a deep breath, and began.

"Spirits of our warrior ancestors, we call upon your love in our time of grief. We partake in this meal, to fill us with warmth, and remind ourselves of what matters to us most. Tonight, StarClan, we do not ask for you to guide a soul. We ask that you witness our mercy, and our promise to make ForestClan a better place to live, for all cats."

"Hear hear," Lightfoot called.

Redpath suppressed a small smile, continuing. "For Lakestar's death, we take time to remember our reasons for doing this act. Not out of anger, or rage, but out of hope. We remember."

Her Clan echoed back. "We remember."

Redpath curled her tail around her paws. She knew already what she wanted to say. "I did not kill Lakestar out of vengeance alone. Although I was fueled in part by it, it is not why I killed her. If there were any other path I could've taken - if she would've accepted exile, or step down, then I would've accepted it. But Lakestar would not permit herself any other way." Her ears flattened. "I was tired. Tired of watching cats refuse to band together to fight Tendrils. I was tired of watching young apprentices be sent to their deaths. I was tired of watching cats suffer and feed the woods. And so," her breath shook, "Lakestar died so I could make a Clan where that didn't happen. With Lakestar's death, I will make a Clan where no cat will ever have to feed the woods again. Where my nine lives will be used to satiate them for seasons to come. Where no kit will ever have to seek approval from the woods before becoming an apprentice, and where Clanmates stand together to fight the woods. I…I killed Lakestar, so that we could make a better Clan. And that is why she died."

Redpath turned towards her secret keeper's apprentice. Iciclepool nodded, then stared down at her empty plate. Her copper eyes flickered with feeling.

"...I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be a queen. None of those are meant to be. No thanks to her. She hated me. She was happy to see me suffer. And I was tired of it." Her bitterness was palpable, and a few cats gave a purr of sympathy. "Lakestar died so that no apprentice would ever be sent to die again. So that no queen would ever have to lose all of her children ever again from pointless cruelty." Her eyes narrowed, and her ears flattened. "And if any leader dares to try it again, I will not show mercy. No one will."

Redpath's heart tightened. She knew Iciclepool did not mean to direct it at her. But her hate was palpable.

I promise I won't ever become her, Redpath thought. I promise no kit, queen or apprentice will ever suffer from apathy and cruelty ever again, Iciclepool. I made a promise to Cliffstep.

Iciclepool turned her head curtly to Cloudthunder. One by one, Redpath's Clanmates spoke.

"Lakestar died so that no cat will ever have to feel like a prisoner in their own home. Cats will learn that the world beyond our walls can be dangerous, yes, but not horrible all the time. I want more cats to see the Glimpse Clearing, and the Rocky Stepps, and the vernal pools, and the fields, and - look, the world is beautiful, okay? I know the woods are horrible. But I refuse to feel like we can never just exist in the world. This is our home too, Lakestar's death will let me - and other cats in the future, hopefully - actually experience that."

"Uh…Lakestar died so…I…man, guys, I'm terrible with speeches. I dunno. Lakestar made me feel hopeless. I guess made others feel that way too. Her death means that we can actually have hope now. If…that's okay to say. Yeah? Okay great. Uh…your turn."

"I…will continue to be a good healer. Lakestar died because…she made many cats angry and afraid. Hopefully there will be less of it now. I will…keep being a good healer. And a good mentor."

"...Um…do…do you all remember Beauty? The young loner who was hurt on our border? I…I wanted to help her. But Chicoryglint, I…I remember you told me no, because Lakestar wouldn't allow it. But…maybe, in the future now, we can invoke the Law of Asylum more. At least to cats who just need a single stem of horsetail. I hope ForestClan can be a Clan where we can help more cats freely, now."

"...Lakestar died so the pain could end. All of it." A long pause. "...I'm sorry. I have nothing kind to add."

"That's alright, Ferncreek," Lightfoot murmured. Finally, with her turn, she sat straight. "Lakestar, wherever you may be - maybe you had good intentions for ForestClan, once, a long, long time ago. Maybe you really did want to help ForestClan, back when you wanted to find new territory. But your intentions mean little, when your actions hurt everyone around you." Lightfoot sighed. "You became a monster hellbent on making everyone fear for their lives, terrified of setting foot outside the walls of camp. You killed those who disagreed with you, and threatened the children of those who spoke out against you. You had to die, because you held no hope for your own future. You feared the woods more than you cared for your Clan. Lakestar, may your death serve as a lesson for future lorekeepers. Fear poisons and corrupts the soul, and hatred is the bastardization of love. May our new ForestClan be lead without fear, and for our love of ForestClan to outweigh all hatred we hold to our enemies." Lightfoot turned towards Redpath with a smile. "May Redstar's reign be one of hope against the threat of despair."

Redpath's heart swelled, and a purr escaped her as she gazed upon her beloved friend. Her affection turned to embarrassment as her Clanmates began slowly, then picked up, "Redstar, Redstar! Redstar! Redstar!"

Redpath licked her chest fur, surprised to feel openly embarrassed. When was the last time she had openly allowed herself to feel this?

I will do my best, Lightfoot. I promise.

********

"Redpath?"

Redpath turned towards her secret keeper's apprentice - no, she corrected internally, her deputy - as she padded up to her from across the clearing. After the Ritual of Mercy, the Clan had decided to spend a day or so to reorganize, and discuss basic reforms to their Warrior Code. Besides, after Chicoryglint's insistence that clear moonlight would be needed for a leadership ceremony, Redpath couldn't face StarClan immediately. Although, she highly questioned Chicoryglint's words.

Iciclepool's tail twitched. "I wanted to report that I've sent Cloudthunder and Ferncreek out on a border patrol. I've told them to be careful of any scent trails from Falconclaw or Cricketwing. I don't know if they're still in our territory, but…"

"That's good. Thank you," Redpath nodded at her. "How's our wall restructuring?"

"Barleywave is working on it - slowly. We have enough to repair the larger patches of rotting wood, but after that, we'll be almost out of sap. We won't have much until we can start collecting again in late winter and early spring."

Redpath sighed. "That's not good. Are you sure we can't preserve more?"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's the least of our worries, given the herbs ruined to frost earlier this month," Iciclepool meowed tightly. She looked stiff. "We can find other binding agents."

"I…yes, I agree." Iciclepool paused, and her tail drooped. Redpath blinked back at her slowly, her tail flicking. "...I'm sorry, I did not mean for the question to sound combattive. I'm not used to being able to…agree with you so freely."

Iciclepool visibly relaxed. She sighed, her copper eyes filled with fatigue. "You're right. I…I'm so used to hearing otherwise. I knew your words were all a ruse to gain Lakestar's trust, but…"

"But it was hard," Redpath finished. Her jaw clenched; remembering every argument she held with Iciclepool. How sharp her words were. How every small challenge Iciclepool made received Redpath's retort. In private, on silent patrols held in twilight, the two of them would always apologize. Reiterate their desires to remove Lakestar from power. Confirm again that it was not what Redpath earnestly thought. Iciclepool always said she understood, held herself tall, and repeated that she believed in Redpath. If Lakestar wanted a show to inflate her ego, she could have it - whatever it took for Redpath to infiltrate Lakestar's circle.

But that didn't come without strife and hurt feelings.

Iciclepool looked away. Her gaze was distant. "I…was surprised when you named me apprentice - sorry, deputy," she corrected. "I know we had discussed it before. You told me that you would, but…"

Redpath's heart tightened. "You doubted me."

Iciclepool bristled defensively. "That's not it - "

"Wait," Redpath interjected, lifting her paw. It came out quiet, almost pleading. It was so unlike her that Iciclepool's fur flattened. "I'm sorry. I spoke sharply from…from habit. Habits I learned to survive, but aren't good for me now. Give me a moment to phrase it again."

The two mollies sat in patient silence. It took longer than Redpath wanted. Before she could find a better way to express her feelings, Iciclepool tilted her head, and let out a small chuff of humor.

"That sounds like something Lightfoot would've said."

Redpath let out a dry laugh, the grip around her heart loosening. "Is it that obvious?"

"Wait, I was kidding. Did she really?" Iciclepool's whiskers twitched and she let out a mrrow of amusement.

"She, ah…advised me to start thinking things over before speaking. Reminded me that I was the leader now, and everyone who was left, trusted me. If they didn't, they would be gone."

"I agree with her. Well, except…"

The two mollies stared at each other, an unspoken agreement shared as their gazes drifted towards the medicine den. Chicoryglint agreed to rename herself from protector of secrets to 'medicine cat', but she was very placid and agreeable to everything, given the circumstances. She was always an enabler to Lakestar's cruelty, disguised as compassion. Redpath sighed and shook her head. She didn't think Chicoryglint was the kind of molly to plot something in the background. She was too meek for that. Quite frankly, she didn't know what Chicoryglint wanted.

"...To circle back to what I said before…I meant to say something like…there was a lot of doubt, leading up to…to Lakestar's death," Redpath finally said.

Iciclepool sighed. "I think I was just…scared. We've lived our whole lives only knowing Lakestar's cruelty. Really, the only reason we believed things could be different was from Lightfoot's account of Birchstar."

Redpath nodded. "And I promise that we will be."

Iciclepool blinked slowly at her in response.

After a few moments, Redpath glanced across the clearing, and watched as Barleywave stood on his hind legs to reach a crack located high on one of the inner walls. His tail twitched in annoyance as he held a bundle of rope in his mouth. His eyes darted around him, trying to figure out a plan. Lightfoot stood a few tail lengths behind him. Her tail tapped the snow-covered ground patiently. After a few moments, she spoke, and Barleywave retorted. Lightfoot rolled her eyes and approached him.

"Oh, there she goes," Iciclepool giggled. Redpath watched as Barleywave's frustrated protests disappeared as Lightfoot spoke in a low tone. Redpath couldn't pick up what she was saying, but Redpath could tell based on Barleywave's expression that she was getting through to him. Responding with compassion, kindness, and understanding. Reminding him that he was better than this. He wasn't alone, and no one was going to lash out or criticize his work anymore.

Redpath and Iciclepool watched the scene unfold. Emotions surged through Redpath as she watched Lightfoot finally convince Barleywave to let her help, and watched the pair work together to repair the wall and re-secure bindings. For years, Lightfoot had been their pillar of hope during times of despair. She reminded them that things always changed, that the world always craved stability, and that chaos and despair was not something to build a Clan on. She pushed them to be the best versions of themselves, and to remember the stories of old - ones where good prevailed, even in all the death. Redpath remembered when she was a kit, and Lightfoot turned to her and told her about one of the last prophecies they received from StarClan - the vision of the gentle camp, ringed in spears.

That prophecy kept her going for so many seasons. And so did Lightfoot. As she watched Barelywave's entire demeanor change, and as she caught Iciclepool's gaze softening, she realized that Lightfoot chased hope for her Clan like it was the only thing that could feed them.

She pondered.

"Iciclepool?"

"Yes?"

"I have…a thought. Lightfoot is an exceptional cat, yes?"

"Of course," Iciclepool's eyes widened. "She's…well, I think she's one of the reasons we've made it this far. I'll be honest, I think part of my doubts about being your deputy was just…" She chuckled a little. "Well, I'm just surprised you didn't make it Lightfoot instead."

"But I promised I'd make you my deputy, that day we started our plans. Everyone knew about that promise, Lightfoot included. Do you have any idea how mad she'd be if I asked her instead?"

Iciclepool laughed. "Oh, you're right. She would be mad if you dared to ask."

Redpath purred, her tail twitching. "But, Lightfoot has been so vital to us. I want to do something for her. Let me know your thoughts on this?"

Redpath presented her idea. Iciclepool agreed wholeheartedly.

*******

Redstar obtained her nine lives. Her Clan greeted her with cautious hope. She confirmed her new name, and ForestClan rejoiced.

"But, now that I'm the true leader of ForestClan, I have one last announcement I want to make." Redstar climbed up onto the High Rock. She did not feel the need to order a Clan meeting - her Clan was all here. Instead, she spoke. "Lightfoot - please step forward."

Lightfoot was dumbfounded. She looked at the rest of her Clanmates, all of whom were equally confused. Safe for one - Iciclepool, who sat at the bottom of the rock to Redstar's left. Her tail was raised high, and her eyes beamed. Iciclepool nodded to the dark molly, beckoning her to approach.

Lightfoot tilted her head, now curious. She padded towards Redstar and sat before her, looking up at her new leader.

Redstar smiled, her tail lifted high. "Lightfoot," she began, "I want to acknowledge your role in keeping us together - as friends, and as a Clan."

Lightfoot let out a mrrow of amusement. "Aw, Redstar, come on, you don't have to make an announcement out of that."

"Let me finish. For many seasons now, Iciclepool and I have felt like you have been vital in helping us create a better ForestClan. Yes, Iciclepool and I resolved to defeat Lakestar. But you were there to orient us, to remind us of why we were making difficult choices. From what Iciclepool told me, it's because of you that Cloudthunder and Barleywave joined our cause. It was because of your kindness, and your stalwart faith in a better future that we kept pursuing this goal." Redstar's expression turned solemn. "Distancing myself from clanmates and playing the role of the right-hand to a tyrant was difficult, and isolating. I remember many moons where I felt bitter, and angry. Sometimes I doubted that others could ever trust me, after the things I've done. But you kept us together. You reminded us all of what we were fighting for, and that despite temporary pain, it was worth fighting for. I know you try to downplay that, but I don't think you realize how important that is."

Lightfoot looked stunned.

Iciclepool nodded, softening. "The day we killed Lakestar - I was hurt when you suggested we hold a funeral for someone who caused us so much pain. But doing so reminded us of what we actually fought for. Not for revenge, or for retribution against our tormentor. But for peace."

"And Iciclepool and I agreed, that a better ForestClan could not be built on any cats' worst impulses and feelings. My hate - or, I suppose our hate - for Lakestar cannot be what this Clan is built on. And this will be what makes our home a better place."

Cats murmured in agreement, and it seemed like Chicoryglint and Ferncreek caught on to what their leadership planned to do. Lightfoot herself also caught on, a look of shock and wonder placed upon her shoulders. Her pupils dilated.

"I…I just believe we're made for more than this. I've always believed that," Lightfoot meowed.

"And I believe you are more than that," Redstar replied. With a purr, she recited, "I call upon our warrior ancestors to look upon this cat. She has transcended what a warrior is expected to perform in service of their Clan, and I call upon you to honor this cat, as I bless them with a name that suits their actions."

"Oh, mousedung, an honor name!" Barleywave shouted from the sidelines excitedly, receiving a few laughs and a single "shhh" from Ferncreek.

Redstar hopped down from the High Rock and placed her tail on her friend's shoulder, her heart bursting with pride. "Lightfoot, do you wish to accept this honor name?"

Lightfoot laughed nervously. "Do I have to?" she meowed with full humility.

"Oh, please!" Iciclepool gave Lightfoot a wide-eyed, pleading look like that of a kit.

Lightfoot burst with laughter, heat rising to her cheeks. "Ah, mousedung, how can I say no to a face like that? Very well, lovely deputy, just for you," she teased. She turned to face Redstar, her leader and friend, and gave her a smirk. "Okay, Redstar, you've got me. Yes, I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I grant you your new warrior name." Redstar recited this almost too quickly, as though Lightfoot was going to rescind the offer - although deep down, she knew she wouldn't. Redstar thought deeply about this name, she hoped that her friend would like it. "From now on, you will be known as Hopechase. StarClan honors you for your determination and endless positivity."

Before the newly-named Hopechase could finish licking Redstar's shoulder, cats already chanted with enthusiasm. Hopechase was filled with joy. She purred loudly and pressed against both Redstar and Iciclepool.

"Thank you. Both of you." Hopechase meowed.

"Hopechase! Hopechase! Hopechase!"

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