Fish, I'll leave you in charge here. If you wish to chose someone else to be your co-owner, than do so, but remember to chose wisely! There are certainly some excellent candidates for the job among NightClan's community. I know you'd do fine on your own as well though.
Remember guys - NightClan will never be spiritless. People may come and go, but NightClan will always stand firm because of you guys. Don't forget me, don't forget anyone else who's left the Clan, and sure as hell don't forget Spirit.
And now, for my final roleplay...:
Brightstar breathed in the forest scents. The tom felt so aged now, after the blizzard. He'd lost all but one life, and the majority of his Clan had not survived. He knew they were at peace with Spiritstar, now, though; and surely she was glad to have her daughter, Firesong, with her. He just hoped that she was watching over his family. Oh, how he missed Russetwing, and the children of hers he had adopted.... He regretted greatly the fact that he had not been able to have his own before her passing.
The tom limped into camp. How weary he felt, now. He felt old and decrepit. Glancing around, he wished the others were here. They were scattered around the forest, somewhere, looking for their way home. He hoped that Mistystorm, his new deputy, would find it home safely. He relied on her heavily these days, during the blizzard especially. StarClan knows where she and the others were at.
He crossed the camp, heading towards his den. The remnants of his nest were still inside. He shimmied in, curling up in the soft moss. Exhaustion, hunger, thirst...it all caught up with him. That, and loneliness. He had been separated from his Clan, and they from each other. He feared they would never reunite.
The shaggy tortoiseshell tom closed his eyes. Sleep soon took him. He awoke, standing beside his body. He tipped his head, watching himself. "I'm not breathing," he noticed aloud.
"That's because it's your time."
The tom whirled to face a small russet kit, smiling up at him.
"Redkit!" He gasped, leaning down to rub his muzzle against her head. "I've missed you so much!"
"I've missed you too, dad," she responded. "Come on, everyone is waiting for you!"
Brightstary glanced back at his body on the ground. "Good luck, Mistystorm," he whispered. "I hope you're ready to lead the Clan. I have faith in you." With that, he turned and padded off with his kit. The ground turned to starry grass, and there was a mass of cats before him.
Spiritstar, Moonglow, Firesong, Darkwing, Cherrystep...Russetwing. Emotion overtook him as he rushed towards his mate, rubbing his muzzle against hers. "My love, I've missed you so much...but what will become of the Clan?"
"Don't fear for them." It was Spiritstar speaking now, and there was a hint of knowing in her eyes. "They are strong, they will survive."
"After all," - there was a flash of pride in those glimmering eyes - "NightClan will never be spiritless."
The tom limped into camp. How weary he felt, now. He felt old and decrepit. Glancing around, he wished the others were here. They were scattered around the forest, somewhere, looking for their way home. He hoped that Mistystorm, his new deputy, would find it home safely. He relied on her heavily these days, during the blizzard especially. StarClan knows where she and the others were at.
He crossed the camp, heading towards his den. The remnants of his nest were still inside. He shimmied in, curling up in the soft moss. Exhaustion, hunger, thirst...it all caught up with him. That, and loneliness. He had been separated from his Clan, and they from each other. He feared they would never reunite.
The shaggy tortoiseshell tom closed his eyes. Sleep soon took him. He awoke, standing beside his body. He tipped his head, watching himself. "I'm not breathing," he noticed aloud.
"That's because it's your time."
The tom whirled to face a small russet kit, smiling up at him.
"Redkit!" He gasped, leaning down to rub his muzzle against her head. "I've missed you so much!"
"I've missed you too, dad," she responded. "Come on, everyone is waiting for you!"
Brightstary glanced back at his body on the ground. "Good luck, Mistystorm," he whispered. "I hope you're ready to lead the Clan. I have faith in you." With that, he turned and padded off with his kit. The ground turned to starry grass, and there was a mass of cats before him.
Spiritstar, Moonglow, Firesong, Darkwing, Cherrystep...Russetwing. Emotion overtook him as he rushed towards his mate, rubbing his muzzle against hers. "My love, I've missed you so much...but what will become of the Clan?"
"Don't fear for them." It was Spiritstar speaking now, and there was a hint of knowing in her eyes. "They are strong, they will survive."
"After all," - there was a flash of pride in those glimmering eyes - "NightClan will never be spiritless."
