A cat stood on a tall hill. Her silky, silver fur ruffled in the cold.
A yellow tom dotted with brown strode towards her.
“Are you looking for Snowflame, Bluewhisper?” The speckled yellow tom asked. The old elder had peacefully passed away in her sleep a moon ago. She wasn’t just any elder; she was Bluewhisper and the tom’s grandmother.
“As a medicine cat, Haywhisker, you should know better than any cat that she is trying to tell us something,” Bluewhisper meowed, her blue eyes showing tints of sadness.
A third cat strode up the hill.
Her amber fur glowed in the moonlight, and her green eyes flashed, reflecting the starlight. She was Bluewhisper and Haywhisker’s sister.
“Are you looking for prophecies?” asked the cat.
Haywhisker’s amber eyes gleamed. “Bluewhisper is convinced that Snowflame will send one. Do you think that, Shockpelt?”
The amber cat flinched, and then mewled a retort. “Yes.”
“Do you think that one is Snowflame?” asked Shockpelt. Bluewhisper and Haywhisker nodded. The star was bright and sparkling, just like Snowflame’s fur.
The star disappeared and the three cats’ hearts sank. Was Snowflame abandoning them?
The three cats’ hearts lifted when a familiar scent drifted over them.
When the stars align the darkness will rise, Snowflame meowed. Three must join to battle the cats that live forever in our memories.
Bluewhisper snapped awake. “Patrol! You’re leading it!” Shockpelt was saying to her.
“Mmmph, Shockpelt, Go away.” Bluewhisper replied rolling over. She was out late last night with Haywhisker and Shockpelt. And Snowflame...
“Okay, patrol it is,” mumbled Bluewhisper. She stood up, shaking the stale moss out off her fur. “Ow!” She meowed. She looked down at her pelt. A thin trail of blood dripped down her leg. Thorns... Bluewhisper thought. I hate thorns!
“Haywhisker!” She called, stepping out of the den. “There was a thorn in my nest!”
“Thorns... Always thorns...” Muttered Haywhisker. He put a marigold poultice on her cut. “Can’t you teach Reedpaw the proper way to gather moss?”
“I am trying!” Retorted Bluewhiper, shocked. “He’s just been really distracted lately.”
“Mmm-hmm...” Meowed Haywhisker. “Okay, I believe you. Now go on your patrol!”
In a daze, Bluewhisper trotted out of the medicine cat den. Shockpelt and Chestnutpaw were waiting impatiently outside the leader’s den. Mossclaw stood motionless.
Bluewhisper let out a soft hiss. She walked over to Mossclaw, who met her with a sympathetic murmur.
“It’s alright,” he meowed. “Just try and check your moss before you lie down.” Looking up at the light grey fur of Mossclaw, Bluewhisper nodded. “Thanks, Mossclaw.”
“Anytime.” He purred.
Gratefully, Bluewhisper led the patrol out of FieldClan camp. “We’re going to patrol the ShoreClan border.” She announced.
They walked to the sandy bays of ShoreClan territory. Bluewhisper sprayed a hollow drift wood log. Shockpelt and Chestnutpaw sniffed around for signs of intruders. Mossclaw went to the other end of the border and marked a tree.
“No signs of intruders.” Reported Shockpelt.
“Thank you.” Bluewhisper dipped her head. She and her patrol marked the rest of FieldClan’s borders. Chestnutpaw jumped up happily.
“Can we hunt now?” She asked eagerly.
Bluewhisper let out a sigh. “Yes, you can hunt now.” “Yay!” Chestnutpaw pranced off.
Off in the hunt for a mouse, Bluewhisper trotted away. In a heartbeat, she could smell the faint scent of the small creature. She wandered closer to the scent, and sure enough, a plump brown mouse was sitting on a tree root, gnawing on a seed.
Bluewhisper crept closer to it, pounced on it, and killed it with a quick bite to the neck. She buried it under the ground, and went to look for some more fresh-kill.
Perking her ears up, Bluewhisper strained to hear any little animal sounds. Suddenly she smelled something familiar.
“Dad? Dad! Rabbitwhisker! Where are you? Rabbitwhisker!”
She ran towards the smell. When she got there, this was not the sight she imagined.
Because, before her was the body of her father.
“Oh, no, no, no!” Bluewhisper cried. She buried her face into Rabbitwhisker’s pelt, sobbing into the grey fur.
“Bluewhisper?” Bluewhisper heard the soft voice calling her and lifted her head off her father. “Mossclaw?” she asked.
Mossclaw stepped into view. His eyes turned to look at Rabbitwhisker. “Oh, Bluewhisper, I’m so sorry.” He meowed, his voice filled with pain.
“Help me take him back to camp,” replied Bluewhisper quietly, lifting up Rabbitwhisker’s shoulder.