With narrowed golden eyes he watched the confused, ashen-gray face of Ashpelt, still dreamy as he gazed at their medicine cat. Oh, lovely. Does he still know how to walk? He showed no sign of moving. Riptalon glanced around, softly groaning to himself, hoping he wouldn't have to jump down from the Highrock to escort the cinerous tomcat over to Honeyleaf himself-- he might lose his nerve once he'd stepped away from the great set of stone. Luckily, a sweet mew snapped his mind back to the present, and he locked gazes with a pair of aquamarine eyes, vivid in their turquoise color. Sunsetstain, obviously-- he could have guessed. Her kind offer to walk Ashpatch over relieved him, though it made his heart flutter with anxiety once again as he remembered last time the golden she-cat and the younger medicine cat had occupied the same space. Somehow they hadn't gotten along-- Riptalon didn't see why.

Though the golden-spotted warrioress tended to be somewhat aggressive around him, though nowadays it was more playful than serious; she was very sweet around her Clanmates. Honeyleaf was as well-- how was it they both grew so defensive around one another? Shaking his broad head, bemused, to turn away the problem, he glanced around and saw that most of the Clan had assembled. Satisfied and scraping up the shards of his nerve into a reasonable pile, Riptalon gave her a thankful nod and turned away, hoping the two would make it to their medicine cat without him having to oversee. With that, he slowly climbed back up to the lower peak of the great stone, and looked down silently for a moment before he meowed, "All right, stop chatting." His humorous tone caused the excited muttering and gossiping going on all around them; a good thing, because he didn't think he could manage a satisfactory yowl. As they quieted, Riptalon cleared his throat and looked about-- his broad-flattened face still and unmoving as the stone his pelt spoke of.

The deputy took a deep breath and began. "Cats of ThunderClan," the scruffy tom began, curling his tail around his massive forepaws as his yellow eyes flickered across the crowd, "Some of you have noticed already Honeyleaf's newest patient-- Nighthunter and I found this loner in our territory when we went out for the afternoon patrol." His eyes moved over to the dark she-cat and he gave her a brisk nod. "Being in no fit condition to chase her off our territory, we are temporarily taking her prisoner until she is fit enough that it would not be murder." Trespassing was not an offense worthy of death, so why should they drive her out when that's what it would cost her? At the least, they could heal her before they politely ejected her from their territory. Shrugging and nodding, the grizzly storm-tinted warrior tilted his head to the side, waiting for objections.

If there were any, they did not bother him, so he just flicked his tail awkwardly and went on with a sloppy grin. "Now-- since I'm up here, it occurs to me that there's several fine young cats that need to be made warriors. Badgerpaw, Stormpaw, Rabbitpaw, Rootpaw... Cloudpaw, Frostedpaw, Lightpaw? Would you come to the front, please?" His soft, light voice was a surprise in itself, escaping a twisted maw of massive size-- yet his soft, almost playful words wove through the sea of ThunderClan pelts, to the ears of the apprentices that this night would be apprentices no longer. As they threaded their way through the crowd Riptalon leapt down from the Highrock, immediately relishing the feeling of soft turf beneath his pawpads rather than the chillingly smooth pawprints of generations of leaders below him. It was unsettling, but his smile never once wavered as the deputy sat and intoned;

"I, Riptalon, Deputy of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have worked hard to learn the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to warriors in their turn. Badgerpaw, Stormpaw, Rootpaw, Rabbitpaw, Cloudpaw, Frostedpaw, Lightpaw? Do you promise to protect and uphold ThunderClan, even at the cost of your lives?" They all responded in agreement, and Riptalon flicked his small gray ears in amusement. As if any apprentice would say no! The tom moved the tip of his bushy tail to the first of the apprentices, a large tabby tom with eyes of burning amber. He was the eldest, held back moons for the unresponsible mentors that would not dare to try and learn around his ways. "Badgerpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Badgerface. StarClan admires your persistance and your strenth, and accept you as a full warrior of ThunderClan." He rested his tail on the tip of the tabby's head, then moved onto Stormpaw, who was eagerly waiting. After his mentor Minkwhisker had become pregnant with Treetail's kits, the tom had been alone for a time, but-- shockingly-- Sunsetstain had stepped in and completed the cat's training, perhaps guilty because her own terrifying yellow apprentice had died in the summer, bitten by an adder.

"Stormpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Stormshadow." The two gray toms locked eyes for a moment before Riptalon nodded, yellow eyes leaping with a sort of pride, before he moved onto the next two-- friends from birth, a pair of cousins known as Rabbitpaw and Rootpaw. In his head Rabbitpaw came first, and so it was in real life as well-- the giant tabby leading, the smaller tom following behind. Their personalities, though very different, complimented one another, and he was glad they'd worked so hard for this moment. "Rabbitpaw and Rootpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Rabbitclaw and Rootwhisker." With a smile he fondly remembered the two kits they'd once been and stepped back from the new warriors. The last two were Cloudpaw and Frostedpaw, a pair of silver-gray tabby twins from one of Harefoot's litters. Their personalities were quite different as well, but they were both good cats and would make excellent warriors. "Cloudpaw and Frostedpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Cloudbelly and Frostedpath. And Lightpaw--" He turned abruptly to the large black cat, pelt faintly striped with silver streaks like blades of long grass across his pelt. "Lightpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Lightblade. StarClan admires all of your intelligence, strength, and courage; and we welcome you all as full warriors of ThunderClan!"

With a loud purr that burst from his chest, he looked around at the rest of the Clan, calling over the loud cheering, "Badgerface, Stormshadow, Rabbitclaw, Rootwhisker, Cloudbelly and Frostedpath will all stand vigil tonight and guard our camp!" Glancing around, a little bit satisfied with himself, he realized that the apprentice den was... empty. The only cat there was his own apprentice, Oakpaw, who was sadly not quite old enough to join her friends as warriors. Glancing over to the nursery, he realized with a groan that many of the kits were ready as well. Oh well... might as well get it all done... Reluctantly climbling back onto the Highrock, just because everyone was yelling so loud they couldn't hear him, he announced when it lulled slightly, "Cinderkit, Rainkit, Burningkit, Roughkit-- from this moment on you will be called Cinderpaw, Rainpaw, Burningpaw and Roughpaw." Eyes picking into the crowd again they lit upon a white tortoiseshell who'd seemed awfully down since his father's terrible murder. An apprentice would cheer Specklespot up. "Specklespot, you will mentor Cinderpaw. She will be your first apprentice, and I expect you to pass down your loyalty and strength to her."

Turning to the next kit, Riptalon shivered all over, those golden eyes burning into him like her mothers had used to. The sisters looked so alike, one with blue eyes, one with gold-- and they both resembled completely the mother Riptalon had once loved. Swallowing, he meowed, "Tranquilmotion, you are a seasoned warrior in our Clan. You will mentor Rainpaw. I expect you to pass down all your wisdom and skills to this apprentice." There had always been a dark, liquid gleam to those over-sweet eyes in the gray kit, and he hoped that if he was not imagining it the senior warrior would be able to combat whatever Rainpaw could throw at her. Looking around, his sharp golden eyes picked out Specklespot's brother Nightwind, a black cat whose yellow eyes shone from the crowd. "Nightwind!" Riptalon called, "You will mentor Burningpaw. He is your first apprentice, and I know you will teach him and pass on all your many skills in turn." Purring, he swished his tail past Roughpaw, knowing ruefully if he'd done the same while Rainpaw had been close she would have buried her teeth in it.

"Roughpaw, your mentor will be Reedwhisker. Reedwhisker, you are a young warrior, but I know you will be a good teacher to this apprentice." As Riptalon's icy yellow stare flickered across the tabby pelt of the calm tom, he relaxed-- he was all done, now. Wasn't he? Apprentices, warriors, announcing the arrivals of tortoiseshell loners... the stormy cat watched the crowd for a moment before he mewed softly, "Cats of ThunderClan, I have one last ceremony to perform. Before I do, I'd like to turn our minds to our dear, departed friend Silverwing, who let behind a legacy before she went to hunt in StarClan this past moon. Her lifelong friend and mate Harefoot is still among us today, and he has more than earned his rest. Harefoot, is it your wish to give up the name of warrior and go to join the elders?" His eyes clouded with sadness for the lost queen, but his tone stayed strong and only wavered once as he sought out the green, calm gaze of the brown-and-white senior warrior. He'd earned it, if he wanted it. Riptalon breathed in once, feeling the stone-tinted fur on his chest ruffle, breathed out, felt it flatten. Perhaps this would be the last ceremony he would ever have to perform.

Roughpaw. Roughpaw. He was an apprentice. His mentor was Reedwhisker. He didn't know the other cat well, he couldn't remember seeing the feline in camp. But he was sure they would get along find. He got along with everyone after all. No, his mind was focused on his father. Ashpatch. What was wrong with him? He was acting so odd! He didn't understand why Sunsetstain was escorting him over to Honeyleaf's den, nor why he smelled of fear. Had there been an attack maybe? Had Riverclan tried to reclaim Sunningrocks and found his father alone? Fear gripped at his heart, but he was ok! He had to be. His dad has always been a strong, respectable warrior. He had always looked up to him, always gazed in amazement at the love his mother and father shared. He had never been one big on mates and all but it was beautiful really. He couldn't help but hope he could one day experience the same infatuation with some she-cat. His heart was big after all. He loved his family more than anything else, especially his older foster sister Rainpaw.

Where was Rainpaw anyways? His golden eyes darted across the clearing, looking for her lithe, silver frame. Ah there she was. Her mentor was Tranquilmotion. Perhaps she could learn to control Rainpaw's temper. Not that he minded, her sharp tongue never fazed him really. He'd grown very used to her smart remarks and cruel glances as a kit, and now, he just considered them as her way of loving him. She didn't have to strength to show affection in the way he did, so she resorted to being mean. It was really quite simple. He couldn't even hold the grudge of another's murder against his sister. He had sat, half awake as she killed Tansykit and than helped her cover the evidence for fear of losing her like his brother Crowkit whom had died after birth.

Crowkit. He missed the last born of his siblings. There was only he and Burningpaw now. Well Cinderpaw and Rainpaw as well. But they had also lost Oak-kit and Woodkit as well. He didn't know what had happened to them, but they were gone. They had either disappeared or died. Feeling rather mournful he hung his head. If only he had been able to save them... He always did blame everything on himself. But normally he was much more optimistic. So he gave himself a good shaking and lifted his eyes to the sky. Somewhere up there they, and his aunt Stoneflower, were all watching this wonderful day. Somewhere they were singing praises for those left down here who had gotten warrior and apprentice names.

Well, Roughpaw thought to himself, perhaps I should go check in on father. He was terrified! Yes that's what I'll do. A smile stretched out his paw and his large, gray paws carried him to Honeyleaf's den. He had never spoken much to the pretty medicine cat but she was always kind. He was glad she was their clan's medicine cat. There was surely no other cat so fit for the job.

On his way there, he caught on to an unfamiliar scent. Oh hadn't his mother Nighthunter brought in a rogue. Or was she a loner? The feline furrowed his brow. Well he ought to go welcome her! He wasn't going to be hostile or rude. If this she-cat had come in peace than it wouldn't be fitting to be rude. With a spring to his steps, he entered the medicine cat den, trying hard to stay out of Honeyleaf's way as he did so. He didn't want to be a bother after all.

While his sunshine colored eyes adjusted to the darkness he glanced around. Ashpatch seemed busy, he wouldn't go over there just yet. And than he saw the female. Had they said she had a name? He couldn't quite remember but he padded up to her anyways. He was sure that if she were to join Thunderclan they could become friends. He'd be glad to show her around or anything she needed really. He liked being helpful and having a purpose to fulfill.

The rogue was a tortoiseshell it looked like. Her fur was rather beautiful, he admitted to himself. She had been injured though, otherwise she wouldn't be in here, laying on a bed of moss. He hoped she would be alright. Even if he didn't know her just yet he knew that he didn't want her to die. He didn't want anyone to die. He knew they went to Starclan but he would miss them all too much. He hated to lose a single feline, friend or foe. But, before he could greet her, she asked something about sleep to dear Honeyleaf.

Roughpaw's tail dropped but he knew he should respect that she was rather tired, and rightly so after her long journey. Or he assumed it was long. With a sigh he bowed his head, determined to at least introduce himself. “I know you're tired and all but I just wanted to welcome you to Thunderclan,” he meowed brightly, “I'm Roughpaw. Perhaps when you're feeling better I could show you around?” He asked hopefully. He knew it wasn't really his place. Riptalon might just be keeping her as the clan's prisoner. But he liked her already. She might be a great addition to the clan and a great friend to him. Oh yes, he was sure Rainpaw would hate her but she hated everyone. And maybe it was time he wasn't such a shadow to his sister.

He had always been the follower. Padding after her to make sure she was okay, to make sure she didn't get in heaping amounts of trouble. Huh, some good that did, he thought, she murdered someone right under your nose! He tried to turn off that image. Tansykit, bleeding out her whole life on the forest floor. Rainkit, looking first afraid, and than, scarily, happy, overjoyed! She had liked the feeling of blood between her claws. Roughpaw shuddered inwardly. He focused instead on the new comer.

Riptalon of ThunderClan stared down from his high perch upon all the cats of his Clan, stared down from the place where he was seated on the mass of gray stone not merely on the cats who suddenly took in breath at his words-- evidently it had come as a surprise to his friends, his family. Somehow Harefoot had always seemed immortal, unchangeable-- a warrior of the Clan since time had begun, and like he would continue that way. A father, a friend-- a true warrior at heart. Nontheless, even the greatest of cats grew old-- and certainly the greatest deserved fitting rest. Never again would old Harefoot have to rise to the tide of battle, never again would the longhaired tomcat have to spend hours in the forest desperately searching for the tiniest vole, the smallest shrew that he could bring back to the Clan.

The life of a warrior was a difficult life indeed, and Riptalon knew that Harefoot had earned his retirement-- yet his throat still grew tight, for the life of a warrior was a great one as well. He almost wished he hadn't mentioned Silverwing, for there were throats tightening all around him around the beautiful old queen's family-- yet he could not have left her out. Somehow it seemed she should have been able to retire alongside her mate now still left on this earth finally padding to the hollow log where Boulderfoot and Robineyes waited for him. I have to do this. The flat-faced deputy took in a deep breath and dipped his head in respect for the cat who'd been around since the moment the gray kit had come into this world as he took in the response. “I have had an eventful enough life to say I’m ready to finally get some rest. So yes, it is my wish and my pleasure.” The soft, sad smile that appeared on the cat's muzzle made Riptalon's small ears flatten to his head unhappily, yet they reculantly straightened up with respect at the old tom mewed, “I only hope we have enough apprentices to tend to my every need!”

A mrrow of laughter passed like a ripple through the Clan, and Riptalon scrabbed at his eyes with the back of one giant stone-furred paw, too choked up for a moment to even speak. Why him? Why did the deputy have to be the one to retire this cat; this great, noble cat whose bravery was even here, even in his voice? He did not want to do this. Calm down, Riptalon. It's not like you're killing him or anything, the voice in his head growled, and he shrugged, swallowing, his narrow golden eyes strangely moist. He opened his mouth to speak the words he'd heard few times since he'd become a warrior, and closed the steely maw again, coughing. He could not. He could not say it. The deputy took a deep breath, and in a shaky, sputtering voice, forced out the words. He had no idea how hard this would be when it came up-- no idea how hard it would be to do this thing, to make Harefoot an elder. The tabby-and-white warrior had lost so much-- his brother Sandfur, his mate Silverwing. The kits of his many litters that had not survived through the many seasons of frigid leafbare that the cat had lived through.

Sighing and composing himself, Riptalon gave Harefoot a tiny nod and drew his sunlight-tinted eyes away from his great gray paws as he meowed in his soft, light voice, "Your Clan honors you, Harefoot, and all the service you have given us. I call upon StarClan to give you many seasons of rest." Almost as soon as he'd forced this out and met the new elder's emerald eyes with his own watery yellow ones, he let out a sudden squawk and tumbled off the side of the Highrock. He'd been sitting near the bottom, fluffy gray tail draped around the back of the great stone-- and a dark brown little kit had snuck around the back and dug his sharp little teeth right into it. After a moment struggling on the ground and frantically whipping back his soft stony appendage from Elk-kit, to whom he meowed despairingly, "ELK-KIT! That hurt!", he marched back around the side of the Highrock, trying valiantly to pretend that he hadn't just been bitten by a naughty kitten and reacted like the Clan was under attack "I don't envy you, Harefoot, when that one becomes an apprentice," Riptalon told the elder a moment later when he'd mingled back into the ground, small gray ears burning with embarassment at the chuckling going on around him. His whiskers were drooping with shame, but he gave Harefoot a wry grin anyway. "Evening, Harefoot."

Before Riptalon padded back towards Honeyleaf to check on Poppy he glanced down at the new elder's long-furred white toes, glad that he hadn't spontaneously decided to change his name. Harefoot suited him well. Padding away, a mountain curving a channel through the sea of cats, the smoky persian flicked his tail in respect and bounded for the medicine den. Actually, he passed the dark figure of Nighthunter and froze, backtracking, and meowed, "Nighthunter? Ashpatch seemed... confused, earlier. I told him to go see Honeyleaf, but if his problem stays on I'm relying on you to help him, okay?" He honestly hoped whatever was going on didn’t stay around long—if Ashpatch had no memory, would he remember his mate? And what of the strange, awed look he’d given poor Honeyleaf? Purring reassuringly to cover his unsettlement and touching her dark shoulder with the tip of his wounded tail, Riptalon continued his path.