Mistystar’s Omen

The she-cat purred. “Well met, Mistyfoot. I am so proud of what you have become. I give you a life for finding happiness, even in the most unlooked-for places. Whatever happens, never forget how to be joyful.” When she touched Mistyfoot’s nose, a bright silver light flashed, making Mistyfoot blink. Her fur tingled and she felt the hair stand up along her spine.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

A dark gray tabby took Silverstream’s place. Mistyfoot’s heart ached as she gazed at him. “Oh, Rippletail. I’m so sorry you didn’t return. You saved the lake, you know? The water came back!” If not the fish, she added silently, though she wasn’t going to tell her former Clanmate that.

Rippletail dipped his head. “I only ever wanted to help my Clan,” he meowed. “My life was worth that. The life I give you is for curiosity, for the courage to find out what lies beyond the horizon. Never turn down a chance to learn something more.”

“I won’t; I promise,” Mistyfoot whispered as the heat burned through her once more. She was beginning to feel dizzy and weak, and her vision was blurred.

At first she thought no cat had come up after Rippletail. There was an empty space in front of her. She had one more life to come, didn’t she? Then there was a tiny squeak below her, and Mistyfoot looked down at a small black kit with piercing green eyes.

“Perchkit! My baby!”

The tiny cat bounced on his paws. “I knew I’d see you again,” he chirped. “They said I could give you a life, too. So mine is for bravery, even when you are walking into shadows. There will always be light, even in the darkest night.”

He stretched up to press his nose against Mistyfoot’s chin. She inhaled his precious kit scent and drank in the energy that flowed from him. I never forgot you, not for a single moment.

“Mistystar! Mistystar!”

The cats on the shore raised their voices, sending her new name echoing up to the sky. Two more cats pushed through the throng and wound around Mistystar’s legs. “Pikepaw! Primrosepaw!” She felt a rush of love for her kits who hadn’t lived long enough to become the warriors they should have been.

“We will be waiting for you,” Pikepaw promised earnestly.

“We are so proud of you!” Primrosepaw added, pressing her cheek against Mistystar’s shoulder.

Mistystar opened her mouth to tell her kits how much she missed them, but the light was turning gray and misty, and the shore vanished to be replaced by curved cliffs of stone. Mistystar was lying beside the Moonpool once more, her ears ringing and her fur still ruffled from the agony of the nine lives.

Mothwing padded up to her. “Are you all right?”

Mistystar blinked. She pictured the cats by the shore again, and knew there had been one missing. “You weren’t there!”

Mothwing winced, then relaxed as if a weight had been lifted off her. “No.” She held Mistystar’s gaze without flinching. “You will always visit StarClan alone. They don’t exist for me in the way that they do for you.”

Mistystar stared at her friend in dismay. What was Mothwing saying? She was a medicine cat! How could this be true? She fought to speak, even though the ground was lurching under her feet.

“You… you don’t believe in StarClan?”

Chapter 4

“But you’ve been our medicine cat for so long! Have you never walked with StarClan in your dreams?”

Mothwing shook her head. “You have your beliefs,” she meowed calmly. “I have mine. The cats you see in your dreams guide and protect you in ways that I have lived without. I am skilled at healing and caring for my Clanmates, and that has been enough to serve my Clan.”

Mistystar’s mind was whirling. Surely this couldn’t be happening! How could a medicine cat not believe in StarClan? Why had none of the cats said anything to her during the nine lives ceremony? They must know that Mothwing never walked with them. What about omens? Did StarClan bother to send any if Mothwing would never be watching for them? She took a step forward, suddenly desperate to get back to the lake, to find a footing for her paws on ground that seemed to have shifted.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

As Mothwing followed her up the paw-printed path, Mistystar thought she heard the medicine cat murmur, “I’m sorry.” But there was nothing she could think of to say in reply.

They traveled quickly and in silence, leaping and scrambling down the tumbled rocks until they were standing on the short, springy grass of WindClan’s territory once more. Scents from ThunderClan drifted to them across the narrow stream that marked the boundary between the two Clans. “Let’s stop and tell Firestar what has happened,” Mistystar suggested. The other leaders would have to learn about Leopardstar’s death sometime.