Most clan cats traveled between territories when the full shine of the moon lit up the land. Most cats, when traveling far, walked to a quartet of trees, quite to the south of where his paws where landing. Yet Sagewing was not like ‘most cats’; he led a different life, had a different destiny, than that of a warrior. He did not mind it – he did not complain about it. Besides, these visits were worth everything. These visits to a pool that the moon and stars were reflected in.

Sagewing always wondered… If the stars were their ancestors, long past warriors and deputies and leaders and medicine cats of all kinds, what was the moon? Was the moon where the ancient clans lived, like Tigerclan and Lionclan and Leopardclan? The large cats were never there among Starclan. He stopped his wondering in favoring of following the stream that ran down from the mountains, the same stream that served as a border between Dreamclan and Oakclan.

He paused at the pebbly shore, wondering where his apprentice had gone. She had been right behind him, had she not? Or had she decided to go back to camp? He let it go – she knew the way, she was nearing twelve moons. The spotted white and brown and black apprentice would come, and he felt that Starclan would let him know if she was in some strange trouble that would prevent her from showing up. Or maybe she had indeed returned to camp, believing that some kit or cat was too sick to be left alone? That would be like her...

So, now unconcerned, he turned and continued his way up the hill that lead to the starry pool. His dark paws leapt from stone to stone, from ledge to ledge. His legs stopped at the halfway point, silently panting from the climb up. This was a climb that tired out even leaders; he was amazed his old mentor, Ravenpelt, had made it up these same rocks at his old age. Then he recalled that he had sprained his front right paw some moons before his peaceful death. Sagewing thingyed his head. He hopped he had enough time in him to live on as an Elder, or die in his duty. Yet he was here to visit the dead, not join them. He must remember that.

Blue eyes as light as a after-dawn summer sky gazed downward, and his red and brown nose sniffed the air. All four clan scents melted together to form a mush of scents, and stale was difficult to tell apart from fresh. Fourtrees was the same – everything blended. Right now, Sagewing did not know, and could not tell, if any of the other Medicine Cats were here with their apprentices, or if Dewpaw had gone ahead instead of allowing herself to be left behind. Besides, he had never been good with his nose.

He swished his tail, watching the dark brown appendage show its gray stripes as it did so. When his forehead ceased in concentration, the dark tabby-like markings there squeezed together, looking agitated to be smushed in the lighter, tanner furs. Sagewing let loose a sigh, and continued the rest of the way up, trending more carefully as he walked the path up to the Moonpool.