Leader: Lilystar- pale-grey tending to silver she-cat. Slender and lithe build, white paws, light underbelly and cool blue eyes.
Deputy: Furtuft- ginger tom with a fluffy head. Apprentice, Volepaw.
Medicine Cat: Swiftwater- milky-grey she-cat with amber eyes.
Dovefeather- white she-cat with green eyes.
Stormpelt- black tom with amber eyes.
Leopardclaw- golden-and-white she-cat with blue eyes. Apprentice, Frozenpaw.
Woodwhisker- dark brown tom with yellow eyes.
Silverleaf- silver she-cat, yellow eyes.
Acornpelt- chestnut-colored tom
Daisycloud- tiny light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes.
Rockstep- hefty black tom
Volepaw- skinny brown tom
Frozenpaw- dark grey tom with a white muzzle
Snowfall- white she-cat with dark brown eyes ( Mother to Whitekit- pure white she-cat with amber eyes)
Nightflower- dark grey she-cat with blue eyes
The long golden grass bent beneath the cats feet as she swiftly padded across the moor. The warm breeze ruffled her pale grey coat that shone. The sunlight made her blue eyes twinkle. The she-cat purred in satisfaction when she reached a small pool. It was almost a perfect blue, a clear unmoving surface. Thick gorse bushes formed a barrier around it. The she-cat glanced at the pool, then turned her head towards what apperedd to be a tangle of debris. Instead, it was an old cat with ragged fur. The cat stirred its head and let out a rasping cough. It struggled to its feet, wheezing. " I see you have returned, seeker," the cat meowed with a snarl embedded in its voice. The meow trembled, weak with age, yet the she-cat could tell he had once been a proud cat. His frame was wide, although there was no muscle and his fur hung limply. His brown coat may have been handsome, but now it was thin and exposed bits of skin underneath. The she-cat dipped her head.
" Yes, I have." She stirred the pool surface absently with a paw. " And I think you know why." The old cat let out a disgusted wheeze and turned away from her.
" You still want that prophecy? That cursed prophecy?" he spat, fur bristling. The she-cat remained calm.
" Why yes, yes I do," the she-cat said simply. " More than anything in the world." A new fire blazed in her eyes.
" What do you have to offer?" The tom hissed. The she-cat tipped her head to one side.
" I have prey, shelter and territory. I can give you-"
" That's not what I want!" The tom broke her off and began pacing, tail lashing the earth.
" What do you want?" The silver she-cat growled back.
" I want youth. I want to be young again," he hissed, a faraway look in his eyes. " Does you Clan have kits?"
" Yes," the she-cat thought of a white cat with her only kit back at camp. " I will give you her."
" You promise? Promise upon this pool that I guard?" The tom said earnestly. What a fool. That pond had no power. Casually, the she-cat shrugged. " I know everything about you, WindClan leader. I know when you were born, on the darkest night of the moon. I know that all your siblings died of greencough. There is so much I know about you," the tom continued. " But none of it says you are honest. Will you keep this one promise?" He leaned in closer, the foul smell of his breath threatening to make her faint. " Will you keep it, Lilystar of WindClan?" Lilystar backed away. Don't be silly. He'll give you the prophecy of your life, then break the promise. Nothing will happen. Lilystar nodded.
" I will," she vowed. The old cat guided her paw to the pool and placed it on the surface of the water. He placed his own on top of hers and muttered words that made no sense to Lilystar. Finally, he removed his and glanced at her out of intense green eyes,
" Then here is your prophecy," he took a deep breath. " Although now you may be the most beautiful, another will come. She will destory you, and you will leave the Clans forever. You will-"
"Nonsense!" Lilystar howled in rage. No way! I am the most beautiful, and I will always be. No one will ever rise against me. No one! She crouched down, vision turning red. The old cat snapped his head around, furious.
" You call the words of the stars 'nonsense'? How dare you!" He shrieked. Storm clouds began to roll ahead, buy Lilystar ignored them. She turned around, fast as lightning and swiped at the toms muzzle. It struck and he reeled back, almost falling into his precious pool. The tom regained himself and snarled at her, exposed his look and crooked yellow teeth.
" I will never give you the kit! You, a mere rogue, dared foretell my doom! Get out! Now!" she howled in rgae. The old tom showed her his teeth once more, then slowly walked to the exit of gorse bushes. He paused, looking back once to gaze into her eyes; his own were full of disgust.
" Oh, I will leave alright. But you cannot escape the prophecy. In fact, she is in your home right now. Goodbye, seeker," the old tom suddenly faded, melting into the grass. Lilystar stared in astonishment, then whipped around to return home. I don't believe in any of this superstitious stuff. None of it will ever come true.
Lilystar crouched in the shade of a bush and watched Volepaw and Frozenpaw play with Whitekit. The ground was cracked and dry. A drought had fallen on WindClan. All the water on their territory was dry. Lilystar had to send patrols to other clans, and it was embarrassing. Somehow, this drought didn't seem natural. Why only WindClan? Suddenly, an image of the old toms face flashed in her metnal vision, but she shook her head. What could that old fool have to do with this? I made such a mistake, going to him in the first place. Lilystar couldn't recall when she'd first seen the tom. It doesn't matter. She shook her head, trying to free herself from thinking thoughts about him. Whitekit was squealing, charging across the dead grass, throwing up chunks of dirt in her wake. She was so focused on her pursuers, Volepaw and Frozenpaw, that she didn't notice a dip in the ground in front of her. Paws flailing, the kit fell into it and landed in a disgruntled heap. Purrs erupted from all around camp. But watching her, Lilystar felt a surge of jealousy. That should be me! Lilystar watched as the kit rose to her paws, then charged at her pursuers again. They fell in a tangle of waving limbs and tails. Suddenly, a pale form slid from the entrance to the nursery and strode crossly to where the young cats were tussling. " Enough! What are you doing to your pelt?" The she-cat, Snowfall, cried. She bent over Whitekit, her daughter, and began to lick the snowy coat. " Let's go to the fresh-kill pile. You can have your first taste of meat," Snowfall said, shooting Volepaw and Frozenpaw a disapproving glare.