𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 || 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 #1

Bonus Chapter #2: Slightclaw

Slightclaw shifts, a strange sensation coursing through him; his consciousness returns and his vision begins to clear.

 He feels the adrenaline from the fight drain from him, taking the edge off his movements and calming his heart pounding madly in his ears.

Slightclaw rises to his paws, taking note of a tinge of pain in his hind paw.

Stretched out before him are the hunting grounds of StarClan, though something about it seems a bit too perfect, as if tension lingers in the very air.

He pricks an ear, watching a patrol of cats come padding in his direction; from among their ranks, he observes many familiar faces, though said faces aren't particularly friendly in nature.

Slightclaw, preparing himself for the ordeal, lets out a quiet sigh.

Leading the patrol is Slatestar, Willowstar's predecessor, who Slightclaw has a few unremarkable memories of.

He sees the burn scars on the old leader's body guarded by small constellations.

Reminded of Raggedfoot, Slightclaw shifts his expression to uncaring neutrality simply for the fun of it.

Slatestar pauses in front of Slightclaw, dipping his head.

Slightclaw senses the discomfort and possible fear that radiates from the slate-gray tom, but says nothing of it.

"...Greetings," mutters the silver tabby, sensing that no one in the gathered group will speak first.

A few whispers ripple through the group before Slatestar clears his throat, practically shaking.

"..Hello, Slightclaw."

"We've come to conduct your leadership ceremony," the slate-gray tom mews, rumbling weakly in an attempt to again clear his throat.

Slightclaw raises a brow and says nothing, gaze flickering over Birchstorm and Willowstar; both the toms look furious.

Slightclaw notices that the horrid wound left on the latter earlier that night has been patched up, though a rather horrifying and jagged mark stretches from his throat down to his underbelly.

Birchstorm and his father, Rooknose, someone Slightclaw doesn't remember incredibly well, stand shoulder to shoulder, lips curled back in identical snarls.

A cat the silver tabby doesn't recognize stood among the ranks, though he reckons he'll figure out who it is soon.

After a much too-long period of shuffling, murmuring, and hesitation, Thornflight squeezes her way out from the crowd and stalks right up to Slightclaw.

"Ah, Thornflight. It's been a while," the silver tabby mews curtly, facetiously feigning obliviousness while trying to keep a smirk from creeping across his face.

Remembering now how comically short the ShadowClan medicine cat is, Slightclaw maintains his composure amid a bit of juvenile amusement.

Thornflight, unamused, glares up at the ShadowClan deputy, floppy ears pinned back,

"..Hello, Slightclaw."

"Bend down," she hisses up at him, shaking out a fluffy paw and momentarily flashing her claws.

Slightclaw complies, keeping a vaguely smug look on his face.

Thornflight presses her muzzle to the silver tabby's forehead, grimacing.

"...With this first life, I give you the gift of mercy," she mews, pulling away as soon as she's able to.

"..Use it well to spare those whose lives you need not take, and to protect the ones who may not deserve it."