#I want my favorite cats to be able to rest peacefully without Starclan forcibly bringing them back to a place they no longer identify with

[scorched-cipher]

Ooh, new controversial take: Starclan is a prison. Imagine being a cat that escaped the clans, and you find some nice housefolk and make many friends. You have an actually fulfilling and long life away from the clans. It’s wonderful.

And then you die.

You wake up upon a starry plain to find yourself surrounded by cats. They welcome you, but their smiles don’t meet their eyes. Barely stifled aggression and betrayal emanate from their pelts, though they are smoothed with precise restraint. A few tail whips from the sides of the crowd are the only signs of something off.

You don’t get it. You’re dead, right? What’s going on?

A singular starry cat pads forward. That’s strange. They have a stripe on their left leg that arcs through the white sock. A slash of bramble-brown through the pristine white. Almost like your mentor…

Time seems to stop. It cannot be possible. It is your mentor. But you left him- you left them. You got out. You escaped that wretched place. It’s over. Right?

And the cat smiles at your realization. It isn’t a malicious one. It’s pitying. But also one of relief. His tail snakes onto your shoulder, and you barely stifle a shudder.

“You’re finally home,” he murmurs, his eyes soft.

Home. The word shrills through your mind like metal on metal. You flinch, eyes wide, staring into the reverent ones of your oppressor’s. He thinks he’s doing me a service, you realize.

Before you can shoot back a retort, he presses his nose to your fur.

“…right where you’re meant to be.”