Thousands of stars glittered like shards of ice while the moon hung heavy in the deep black sky. Robinthroat lay curled around himself in a makeshift nest of half-woven grasses and sleek crow feathers from the morning's catch. It was a windless night and the air felt thick. The Prince lay unmoving, eyes open yet unseeing, on the edge of the Frost Leaf Kingdom's territory. He had no one, no where to go, and no idea what had happened in the Kingdom. For all he knew, Larkwhisper had seized control of the Kingdom and appointed a new group of fierce and loyal Knights, led by Laureltail, that traitorous foxheart, who would kill him without thought. Or maybe the Commons had overthrown Hawkstorm and were slowly rebuilding the Kingdom after the tragedy of a bloody takeover. Or maybe, or maybe. Fear kept him from visiting one of the camps, and he was left with no way of knowing the state of his Kingdom. Robinthroat closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

***

It had been nearly a quarter moon since the incident when they found him. He had been stalking a particularly plump hare in Burrow Valley, a long stretch of land populated by rabbits located in a dip in the ground between a small rise on either end. He had been so concentrated on sneaking up to his prey that he didn't pick up the scents in time. Before he knew it he was surrounded by Hunters from the far camp.
"Who are you? This is Frost Leaf territory!" A short brown tom barked, amber eyes glittering with hostility. For a brief second, Robinthroat wondered at his appearance- did they not recognize him? But then a a young she-cat, probably a Hunter in training, gasped loudly.
"Prince Robinthroat?"
"Yes, it's me." He said tiredly. "Tell me, who won? I'd like to know which one of my siblings ordered my death."
"My prince, do not be so pessimistic. Neither Prince Hawkstorm or Princess Larkwhisper won. You are the last of your kin." A tortoiseshell she-cat said sadly.
Robinthroat stared at her uncomprehendingly, green eyes wide in shock. Seeing this, the tortie continued.
"Hawkstorm killed Brackenstar, as you probably know, and he and Larkwhisper fought. Weaselspots attacked and killed Doveclaw as Larkwhisper's ally. A group of Commons led by Weedstripe killed Weaselspots soon after. Hawkstorm killed Larkwhisper but died from his injuries a few moments later. While this went on, I believe it was Laureltail who killed Patchmoon, and Splashwind killed Heronlake. Leopardfang killed him-"
"I thought Froghop killed Leopardfang?"
"He was Hawkstorm's ally, but spared her during the battle."
"Alright, continue."
"Laureltail killed Brightwhisper but Froghop killed her. Both Leopardfang and Froghop returned to the camp, and everyone was buried. Froghop said you'd escaped, but a patrol claimed to have found your body being eaten by crows two sunrises later. A committee was elected and have been leading the main camp since. Leopardfang is recovering, while Froghop is being kept as prisoner there."
"Thank you for telling me, um?" Robinthroat asked.
"Mossfeather, my Prince."
"It would be 'my King' now." The tom from earlier added, glancing at Robinthroat warily.
Panic seized at his chest.
"And you are?" He asked, slightly irritated.
"Horseleap. This is Snowpaw, my apprentice. And they are Redstream and Berrystep. We are all of the far camp, my lord."
"So," Mossfeather asked, "what now?"
That, Robinthroat thought, is a very good question.

***

The camp resonated with shock and surprise at seeing Prince Robinthroat walking among them. His striped brown pelt was ruffled and ungroomed, his tail dragging through the dust behind him. Worst of all were his eyes. The green was clouded with grief and despair, and he walked slowly, head held low. He looked so unlike a Royal cats almost doubted his identity. He led the hunting patrol, with Mossfeather and Redstream near him, and Snowpaw, Horseleap and Berrystep behind. A bright ginger tabby she-cat pushed her way through the gathering crowd, being quickly joined by a lithe grey tom and a muscular cream Persian.
"Prince Robinthroat? My name is Vixencloud, and I, along with Rainleaf and Sunfur, have been leading Frost Leaf Kingdom in your absence. Have you returned as King?" The ginger she-cat said formally, wrapping her tail around her paws.

Robinthroat hesitated.

Out of his entire kin, Robinthroat was the least qualified to lead the Kingdom. Brackenstar had been old and frail, yes, but wise and noble. Patchmoon, and how it hurt to think of her, her death fresh in his mind, had been kind and intelligent, and with Brackenstar had led the Kingdom well, in peace and prosperity. Hawkstorm and Larkwhisper had been good leaders, one bold and prideful, the other cunning and cautious. Even Heronlake or Doveclaw were better choices. Both toms wanted peace and were smart and loyal. Robinthroat started to answer, voice heavy with sadness.
"I have, though this is a challenging time. I will receive my lives before the Spirits tomorrow, now I only ask to be informed of the happenings since... since this council was established."
"Of course." Sunfur dipped his head, flicking a feathery tail.
"Barkrunner and Deadtail, take a hunting patrol each- Rosemuzzle, start preparing a den for our soon to be King." Vixencloud ordered, and two tabbies and a tortoiseshell nodded, gathering cats as they went.
"Follow me, as we have much to discuss." Robinthroat followed the ginger she-cat through the crowd, worry weighing his movements. Robinthroat had no desire to be King, and responsibility alone had caused him to make his decision. Spirits help me. I have no idea what I'm doing.

***

Receiving your lives as a King or Queen was an exhausting ordeal. You may not eat at all on the day you are to receive said lives, and you must stay in solitude, surrounded by offerings to the Spirits. These offerings usually came from the kin of the future leader, or close friends, but Robinthroat had none. Instead, Leopardfang, who had been permanently blinded by Splashwind, had brought a sunset-red feather by way of a messenger, still too hurt to leave the healer's den. A smooth white pebble came from Froghop, who despite being a prisoner, sent an offering. When Robinthroat had visited him the previous day, the Knight had been regretful and wanted to atone. It seemed that this was his start. Mossfeather, Snowpaw, Garlicpaw, and Sunfur had brought gifts as well- two more stones, one a crystal, the other black and round, a piece of soft cotton (which, Robinthroat knew, was an expensive gift), and a sturdy ash stick wrapped in beech leaves, a sign of good luck, youthfulness and strength. He appreciated these offerings immensely, and had told them such when they delivered them last night.

Robinthroat was bored. It was nearing sunhigh and he hadn't left his den. Prey had been brought by earlier from a few well-wishers, left outside his den as to not ruin his solitude. It was a hare, large and strong, and Robinthroat swore he recognized it. It had been taunting him with the promise of a delicious meal, though Robinthroat would have to wait until he received his lives. He would offer its hind legs, and eat the rest as was tradition. He closed his leafy green eyes, sitting silently in the gorse and bracken den, and waited.

Finally, it was sun down. The Healers chosen for this ceremony, Copperstrike and Riverheart, approached his den and beckoned him outside. The cool night air felt refreshing as it flowed through his neatly groomed fur, and he breathed deeply, twitching his whiskers. They led him to the Giving Pool, a glistening pond of clear sliver water framed by ferns a few minutes walk from the camp. Around its grassy edges, offerings lay scattered. Feathers, pebbles, mounds indicating buried prey, trinkets and tributes; the Giving Pool was a way for the main camp to communicate with the deceased and the Spirits. It was a holy place.
"Ready to begin, my Lord?" Riverheart asked, the bulky grey tom's blue eyes looking almost luminous in the quickly-growing darkness.
"Yes. Let's start, then."
"Very well."
Taking a deep breath, Copperstrike, the senior Healer, began the ceremony.
"May the Spirits hear our words and see our hearts," she began to chant, "may they acknowledge our prayer and approve our choice. Oh, great Spirits, who cause the rain to fall and the wind to blow, who feed us as prey and heal us as herbs, may you hear and approve! May you grant your blessing!"
Riverheart now joined in. "Prince Robinthroat of the Frost Leaf Kingdom will ascend to the Crown, as the successor of King Brackenstar of Frost Leaf, whose rule brought peace to these lands. Prince Robinthroat will walk in his pawsteps, and lead us as King! Oh, eternal Spirits, hear and approve our choice!"

All was silent.

Then, softly, a gentle breeze picked up, almost lovingly caressing Robinthroat's fur, the feeling of warm comfort and milk-scent washing over him.
Robinthroat, open your eyes.
The young tom blinked his eyes open, not realizing he had closed them. He drew in a sharp breath at the sight before him. The Giving Pool was glowing with a fierce light, and rainbows striped a brilliant blue sky like a tabby pelt. Trees stretched upwards, branches tangling with the soft, puffy clouds drifting above. Ferns and reeds rustled, the grass was long and springy, and the air tasted of a fresh, clean day. Though none of these things caught Robinthroat's attention. Rather, the beautiful white she-cat with black and ginger patches, youthful and carefree, with muscles rippling beneath a sleek pelt and eyes coloured like a bluejay snagged his attention first. Patchmoon looked fondly at her son.
"Robinthroat, the Spirits have decided to grant you your extra lives. I have been tasked with the first."
"I- wait, mother, please, how are you? Who is here?"
She purred, a sound that Robinthroat thought he would never hear again.
"It is very beautiful here, and I am happy. Now, I will begin."
She approached the nervous tom, touching her nose to his.
"With this life, I give you compassion and love. Care for your cats, Robinthroat, and live your life with kindness. Do not let duty stop you from doing what you love."
Robinthroat unwillingly closed his eyes as a strong feeling washed over him. It felt like sunlight warming his back and the satisfaction of a good meal. It was like the gentle purring of an entire Kingdom. He had no words to describe it.
"And, as I was saying, before, I love you, Robinthroat. I always will."
Patchmoon faded from sight before his eyes.

The next cat to visit him was Heronlake. His brother looked strong and healthy, and he shone with a sense of... completion.
"Brother! I was right, you know. Neither of our siblings would lead, like I said several moons ago."
"You mean when you were drunk on moonshine and were trying to impress Ivytalon?" Robinthroat laughed.
"Never had I seen such beauty before. Ah, that is my only regret. Not having a family."
Robinthroat was sobered quickly.
"Well, we must begin. Robinthroat," he said, pressing his nose against Robinthroat's own, "I give you a life for courage and decision-making. Follow your heart and your head, travel the path less taken, and don't be afraid to stand up for your beliefs. The Spirits will always be with you."
"And you?"
"Considering I am one with the Spirits, by default, yes, I'll stick around."
"I miss you."
"You have a life to live, Robinthroat, don't waste it pining for the past."
And Heronlake too vanished.

And for his final life, bringing the total to three, Maplewhisker. The dilute tortie she-cat had been young when she died, only a few moons after she had finished her Guard training. Her father had been a Knight, and she had grown up beside the Royal kits, a moon older than them. When Robinthroat had heard the news, how she had fallen into the rushing river that marked the border with Sky Kingdom, he had been in a state of disbelief, because there was no possible way she had done that, none at all, since Maplehwhisker had always been smart and careful, and it wasn't possible, so why was everyone lying, they could stop pretending and bring Maplewhisker back, because this wasn't funny, and then it had hit him, hit him hard. And Robinthroat, then Robinpaw, had learned an important lesson- don't get attached, because the Spirits were cruel and unforgiving, and if you don't care, you can't be hurt.
And now she stood before him in all her innocence, green eyes bright, and the promise of what could have been hanging in the air between them.
"Robinthroat," she murmured, touching her nose to his, and he closed his eyes, breathing in her scent of bright skies and sweet flowers, "I give you a life for hope. Hope is a beacon that shines in the dark and lights even the dreariest of days. Have hope, and lead your Kingdom well."
"For you are Robinstar, King of the Frost Leaf Kingdom, and we the Spirits and the stars entrust its protection to you. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the Spirits; live each life with pride and dignity. We hail you by your new name, Robinstar!"
And standing around him were those he had lost, Brackenstar with eyes gleaming, Maplehwisker with a proud smile, and many cats he did not know, spreading out in waves around him, their joint cry filling the air. And then it was over and he woke up.