The trek doesn't prove to be a long one, courtesy of Highstones—as he had come to learn about the looming silhouettes in the sky—being located right at the outskirts of WindClan's moors. It's largely a silent walk there; Bengt's mind is preoccupied with whatever is in store for him now, and Meadowpaw had told him enough about StarClan to know that their importance is to be respected. The taste and smell of traveling herbs that Meadowpaw had suggested they take still lingers. At least it keeps him afloat. Keeps his mind focused on the task ahead.
His mind almost compels him to turn around when they reach the gap and enter the tight tunnels. It's not fear- or at least he hopes it isn't. His heart hammers away in his chest.
It's like he doesn't know whether to expect a grand ceremony or his execution in these depths.
When the tunnel finally, finally opens up, Bengt stops for a moment. His gaze takes it all in: the Moonstone, still and silent, and yet somehow beckoning him forward all at once.
Bengt turns to Meadowpaw one last time, allowing something silent to pass between them. Then, not wishing to waste any more time, especially with something akin to apprehension making his fur tingle, he does what Meadowpaw had told him to do. His nose touches the surface of the strange, moonlit rock.
When a deep-bone chill and a blinding light takes him away, Bengt can only conclude that he is dreaming.
His mind almost compels him to turn around when they reach the gap and enter the tight tunnels. It's not fear- or at least he hopes it isn't. His heart hammers away in his chest.
It's like he doesn't know whether to expect a grand ceremony or his execution in these depths.
When the tunnel finally, finally opens up, Bengt stops for a moment. His gaze takes it all in: the Moonstone, still and silent, and yet somehow beckoning him forward all at once.
"StarClan,"
he breathes into the air, and he almost expects his breath to show despite the warm weather outside. He had never given it much thought—whether there is a higher being out there, someone or something that keeps watch over him and others. It is odd to imagine that he will get to learn of their existence now. Had he stayed a rogue, prowling the unknown for the rest of his life, then he would have stayed none the wiser.Bengt turns to Meadowpaw one last time, allowing something silent to pass between them. Then, not wishing to waste any more time, especially with something akin to apprehension making his fur tingle, he does what Meadowpaw had told him to do. His nose touches the surface of the strange, moonlit rock.
When a deep-bone chill and a blinding light takes him away, Bengt can only conclude that he is dreaming.