She’d always been a medicine cat. How could she become a leader? One that StarClan wanted? Mothwing never was included in any of StarClan’s visions, or at least that’s what she’d been led to believe.

Hawkfrost was laid to rest in this grave approximately twenty six seasons ago. Nearly seven entire cycles of the leaves changing colors had passed since he had been killed. She knew even then it was for the better. He was away from the cats he was hurting. Mothwing, having been one of them, had secretly been relieved he was gone.

While her anger at him had long subsided, he only reminded her of why she disliked StarClan so much in the first place. The look he’d given her when she realized that they had been real the entire time. Telling her that, despite the circumstances, StarClan /made no mistakes/. She recalled several times an apparition of him embodied itself in her dreams, only allowing her to shout at him, begging for a reason why StarClan had merely watched while she suffered for so long alone.