Mistystar’s Omen

“Well, yes,” mewed Willowshine, sounding a little uncertain. “But as it’s your first time sharing tongues with our ancestors, I thought you might like more company.”

Mistyfoot purred. “I’m not afraid of walking in StarClan, little one. But you are kind to offer, and one day I’m sure you will accompany your leader as they receive their nine lives. But it’s Mothwing’s responsibility this time.”

Again there was a puzzling flash of hesitation in the gray tabby’s eyes; then she nodded. “Of course,” she meowed. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I wish you well.” She ducked away, back to her den, leaving Mistyfoot frowning after her. Whatever happens tomorrow? Was there something she should be afraid of? She shrugged, deciding that Willowshine was just a little too eager to prove her merit as a medicine cat, and perhaps not quite experienced enough for all of the responsibilities.

She crossed the clearing to the Clan’s favorite basking place, a sandy slope that was a poor substitute for Sunningrocks, according to the cats who remembered the forest. Dapplenose and Pouncetail lay in the soft golden light, their tails twitching and their eyes half-closed. But I bet they haven’t missed a single moment of what’s happened this morning, Mistyfoot thought.

“We need to find somewhere to bury Leopardstar,” she mewed, feeling grief weigh in her belly like a stone.

The elders nodded, and Dapplenose stood up, shaking sand from her mottled gray pelt. “I know just the place. Follow me.” Pouncetail got to his paws more stiffly, stretching out each ginger-and-white leg in turn. Dapplenose led them over the crest of a slope and into the spindly trees on the other side. She swerved along a half-hidden path through a dense patch of comfrey until they emerged in a little clearing, shaded by a young rowan tree with a clear view of the lake and the island where the Clans gathered at each full moon. Behind the island, the hills where WindClan lived rose up to meet the clouds—and beyond that ridge lay the forest, Leopardstar’s first home.

“I’ve always thought this would be a good spot for Leopardstar to rest,” Dapplenose explained.

Mistyfoot nodded. “It’s perfect. Are you able to dig the hole, or should I fetch some help?”

Pouncetail snorted. “For StarClan’s sake, trust us to do this one last duty for our leader! Do you think we’ve lost the use of our legs?”

Dapplenose lay her tail across her denmate’s shoulders. “Ignore this bad-tempered old trout,” she told Mistyfoot. “But he’s right that we can manage. You should go back to the clearing and have something to eat. You look exhausted, and you’ll need your strength for the journey to the Moonpool.”

Feeling a little overwhelmed by the old she-cat’s motherly sympathy, Mistyfoot thanked them and pushed her way back through the comfrey. In the clearing, Grasspelt’s patrol had returned with a catch of two tiny minnows, and set out again. Duskfur was prodding the minnows thoughtfully, but when Mistyfoot appeared, she pushed them toward her. “You take these,” she urged. “My kits and I can eat later.”

Mistyfoot blinked. Was she so old that her Clanmates were worried about her ability to cope with becoming leader?

Duskfur seemed to guess her thoughts. “Let us help you however we can,” she prompted gently. “We know the sacrifices you will be making for us from now on.”

Mistyfoot didn’t argue. She couldn’t tell Duskfur how isolated she suddenly felt from the cats who had been her friends and denmates all her life. Leopardstar’s death had changed everything. Thank StarClan I have Mothwing,

she thought. She’s the only cat who understands how it feels to be responsible for the entire Clan.

As she chewed on the minnow, she watched the two medicine cats carefully pull Leopardstar’s body out of her den and cover her pelt with rosemary and watermint. The scent of the fresh herbs hung in the air, smothering the taint of death. Mistyfoot heard Willowshine warn Mothwing that they were using the last of their supplies of watermint, but Mothwing just shook her head and told her to keep going. “Leopardstar needs it more than we do now,” she insisted.

Mistyfoot’s heart swelled with warmth toward her old friend. She knew how lucky she was to have Mothwing as her medicine cat. There was no way she could even contemplate the path ahead without her.

As the light began to fade, the cats of RiverClan gathered around the body of their former leader for the start of the long night vigil. The air was filled with the scent of herbs, and the wind had dropped so that the waves were little more than a gentle whisper beyond the bushes. Mistyfoot sat at Leopardstar’s head, watching her Clanmates file sadly past.

Mothwing appeared beside her. “Are you ready to name your deputy? The moon is rising.”