Shattered Streams/Part 2

Chapter 5

Thrushflight stared after Snowstorm, who was increasing her speed as she padded away from camp. She was already on ThunderClan’s side of the border.

What will happen now?

“StarClan, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Slashwhisker muttered. “She’s just leaving us without a leader or anything? What happened?”

Thrushflight didn’t say anything. He didn’t think Snowstorm had wanted him to tell everyone why she was leaving.

“And what are we going to do?” Yellowclaw added. “How are we supposed to decide who the leader is?”

Gracklepaw padded over to him from where she had been sitting beside the High-boulder. “How about we find out who the candidates for leader are. Then, we can vote or something.”

“That’s a good idea,” Slashwhisker agreed. Yellowclaw nodded.

I’d better take charge, Thrushflight thought. The medicine cat is third-in-command, right?

“Uh— Cats of RiverClan!” he called. “We need to decide who will lead our Clan now that Snowstorm is gone and Jadestar is dead. Any cat who wishes to become leader, step forward!”

He hoped with all his heart that less than five cats would come forward.

His wish was fulfilled, but only just. Slashwhisker and Yellowclaw both joined him beside the High-boulder, along with Rosethorn and Streamfrost’s brother, Elmleaf.

Thrushflight’s mind raced. How will we decide now? he thought in despair. Gracklepaw nudged him with her tail, giving him a “don’t worry, I’ve got this” look. He sure hoped so.

“Let each cat give a speech about why they wish to become leader,” his apprentice meowed, “and then we can take a vote.”

This proposal was met with yowls of agreement from the Clan, including the four candidates. Yellowclaw stepped forward. “Excuse me, may Slashwhisker and I have just a moment?” he asked quietly.

Thrushflight nodded. “Yes, of course,” he responded, wondering what they were going to talk about. The chestnut-brown and black toms stepped aside and began to converse in low tones.

After a few minutes, they came back. “Yellowclaw and I have come to an agreement,” Slashwhisker meowed calmly. “We both wish to be leader, but if one of us becomes leader, the other will become his deputy. We want to be voted on together, as a pair, and we will decide amongst ourselves which of us will be deputy and which leader.”

Thrushflight nodded to himself. “Yes, that makes sense,” he muttered. “But how will they decide…?” There was no time to dwell on it now; everyone wanted to listen to the leaders’ speeches.

“May we speak first?” Slashwhisker asked.

Thrushflight looked to the other candidates; there were no contradictions. “Go ahead,” he meowed.

“I wish to lead RiverClan because I believe I am a strong and caring leader,” Slashwhisker told the listening cats. “I would always put the Clan first and make sure every cat has enough prey, clean bedding… all those things. I would make sure to never forget apprentice or warrior ceremonies and to give every young cat their names at the right time. I would also remember that every cat is different. Some apprentices are ready for their assessments the instant they reach six moons; other ‘paws have to wait longer. I would consider that, but I would never call unwanted or embarrassing attention to it. Apprentices need to learn independence and dependence when living in a Clan.”

There were meows of approval as Slashwhisker finished talking.

“I support many of Slashwhisker’s views,” Yellowclaw began, “but I know that I would not be the same leader he would be. Deputies and leaders need to be different, so that the deputy can really advise the leader and not just repeat and support everything the leader says. Cats should not follow their leaders’ orders without question. Then again, they should not contradict the leader, but they need to know, cats are not perfect. Leaders are guided by StarClan, but StarClan does not control our lives. I am telling you now, none of you should expect me, Slashwhisker, or any of us—” he glanced at Rosethorn and Elmleaf — “to be perfect leaders. No cat can be a perfect leader.”

Again, cats purred their support, but Thrushflight noticed that they were not all the same ones that had agreed with Slashwhisker.

“May I speak next?” Elmleaf requested.

Rosethorn didn’t object, so Thrushflight nodded.

“I think I would make a good leader for RiverClan because I would not fear the other Clans nor the dangers that the forest houses,” the cream tabby tom meowed. “Nor would I be careless and rush into battle without any thought. Battles are necessary to keep our borders safe, but no intelligent warrior would fight first. Words come before battles. I would also never give the impression that we are weak, but sometimes we must ask other Clans for help. Doing that is not a shameful thing, because if a proud leader dies, a humble one survives.”

This was answered by several cheers, including, Thrushflight noticed, Elmleaf’s sister, Streamfrost.

Rosethorn stepped forward; she was the only candidate left. “I want to make sure every cat in RiverClan is strong, not just the warriors and the apprentices,” she told the Clan. “Queens, kits, elders, and medicine cats all need respect and care — even though the medicine cats can look after themselves,” the fawn she-cat added, to general purrs of amusement. “I believe that medicine cats should have basic battle training so they can defend themselves if our camp is ever attacked. I believe the same should be done for the kits, elders, and queens — they may not fight well, but they can fight. Queens will do anything to defend their young — I have never been a queen, but I have seen them; they will give up their lives for their kits. Our energetic youngsters will also never pass up a chance to practice their battle skills, and our elders, the wisest cats in our Clan, may be getting old, but their bones can still handle basic training.”

The final candidate also received hearty yowls from the Clan below.

“Now we will begin the voting,” Gracklepaw announced. “Gingerpaw, Turtlepaw, go find some stones. Enough for every cat to vote.”

Something had just occurred to Thrushflight. After Gracklepaw had gotten every cat organized with stones to vote with and created a line of cats, he pulled her aside. “How’s Peacekit?” he asked urgently.

“I watched her all night,” Gracklepaw whispered. “Something very strange happened. Just after moonhigh, she suddenly coughed and her eyes popped open. I asked her to talk and there was no sign of a rasp or cough at all.”

“So she’s better?” Thrushflight asked.

“Yeah. There’s absolutely no sign she was ever sick at all.”

“Well, that’s good,” Thrushflight said vaguely, but his mind was elsewhere. Gracklepaw, sensing this, moved away to keep the voting cats in order.

Absolutely no sign she was ever sick at all. It sounded like — it sounded like losing a life. A leader’s life.

“Give them to some other cat,” Snowstorm had said. “who is more willing to take responsibility of this Clan.”

“Snowstorm, we will not stop you from choosing this path.”

Give them to some other cat. The words kept echoing in Thrushflight’s mind. Some other cat. Could it be— was it possible—? It was unheard of—

But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.