Mistystar’s Omen

Mothwing nodded. They jumped over the stream and trotted down the other side until they reached a clear path that led into the trees. Fresh ThunderClan scent hung in the air; they had clearly just missed a patrol. Mistystar took the lead along the trail, reminding herself that she was a Clan leader now, and had every right to visit her neighbors with this important news without being accused of trespassing. But it still felt strange to be walking in another Clan’s territory without constantly looking over her shoulder, wary of ambush.

They reached the gap in the walls of the hollow and forced their way in through the thorns. Mistystar shook her head to dislodge the prickles that had caught in her nose. She didn’t know how the ThunderClan cats put up with such an uncomfortable entrance to their home. Firestar was crossing the clearing to meet them.

“Is everything all right?”

Mistystar stood still and waited for him to reach her. “Leopardstar’s dead,” she announced.

Firestar lowered his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“We’ve just come from the Moonpool,” Mothwing explained. “Mistystar has received her nine lives.”

Firestar dipped his muzzle even lower. “Mistystar,” he mewed respectfully.

“Mistystar,” echoed Graystripe, a sturdy tom who Mistystar had known since he was an apprentice back in the forest.

“Mistystar, Mistystar,” called the other ThunderClan cats.

Mistystar felt a bit uncomfortable. She had never liked being the center of attention, and it seemed all the more strange because she was still getting used to her new name. “Thank you,” she mewed when the cats were silent. “I have chosen Reedwhisker as my deputy. We look forward to a long and fair relationship with ThunderClan.”

Firestar raised his head and lightly touched her muzzle. “How’s RiverClan?” His tone was lighter, more relaxed; now that the formal greeting was over, he sounded more like the cat Mistystar had known—and confided in—for so long.

She told him about the loss of three elders, and that the drought had hit the whole Clan hard. Firestar was sympathetic, and Jayfeather offered Mothwing some herbs to replenish her stocks, including watermint. Laden with green-scented leaves, the RiverClan cats retraced their steps through the trees. When they broke out into the open and reached the stream again, Mistystar put down her mouthful of herbs.

“Does Jayfeather know that you don’t believe in StarClan?” she mewed.

Mothwing nodded.

“What does he think?”

Mothwing carefully placed her herbs on a tussock of grass. “He knows that I am a good medicine cat and will do anything to help my Clan.”

Mistystar stared at her Clanmate in frustration. How could she be so calm and accepting? She longed to ask Mothwing about omens and dreams and ceremonies—all the responsibilities of a medicine cat that involved trusting in the unseen presence of their warrior ancestors. But standing in ThunderClan territory, still a long way from home, wasn’t the right place for that conversation. The questions would have to wait. Mistystar picked up her herbs and leaped over the stream.

Mothwing followed, and they picked their way down to the edge of the lake to walk along the shore, which lay outside WindClan territory. As they neared the border with RiverClan, a WindClan patrol spotted them and raced up, bristling, but their fur flattened when Mistystar told them about Leopardstar’s death, and the warriors offered sympathy and congratulations to Mistystar on receiving her nine lives. They promised to tell Onestar as soon as they returned to their camp.

Mistystar realized that she should let Blackstar of ShadowClan know as well, but by the time she reached the RiverClan camp her paws were too weary to walk another step. She wanted to be at full strength when she first met Blackstar as his equal, another Clan leader with the power to challenge him if one of his warriors so much as placed a whisker over their shared border. There was too much history between Mistystar and the ShadowClan leader—the memory of him killing Stonefur was too sharp—for her ever to contemplate an alliance with his Clan.

Reedwhisker met her as she limped toward her den. “Did you meet with our ancestors? Do you have your nine lives?”

Mistystar nodded. “Yes, I do.” She forced herself to lift her head higher. “With StarClan’s blessing, I will lead this Clan until the last breath of my last life.”

“Hurrah! Mistystar!” Her Clanmates cheered, but Mistystar noticed Mothwing standing at the edge of the clearing, her gaze troubled.

“Mothwing said you’d seen Firestar and a WindClan patrol,” Reedwhisker meowed. “Would you like me to take the news to Blackstar?”

Mistystar blinked gratefully at her deputy. “Thank you,” she mewed. “Make sure you return before it gets dark.”

Reedwhisker dipped his head and raced off. Mistystar watched him dive into the bushes on the far side of the clearing. She wondered if his littermates were watching from StarClan. She would have to tell Reedwhisker that one of her lives came from his brother Perchkit.