Mistystar’s Omen

But there was no answer, just a muffled snore from Pouncetail, who was sleeping beside her. Mistyfoot stared wildly around the clearing, but her brother had gone. Had he been trying to warn her that something dreadful was on the horizon? There was no chance that Mistyfoot would be able to sleep now. She padded carefully past the sleeping elders and went to the entrance of the medicine cats’ den.

“Mothwing!” she called in a loud whisper.

There was a faint murmur from behind the boulders; then the medicine cat appeared. She looked wide-eyed and ruffled, as if she hadn’t been able to sleep either. “What it is?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I need to go to the Moonpool now!” Mistyfoot told her. “Stonefur visited me in a dream, and there are things I need to ask him.”

Mothwing looked alarmed. “Why? What did he say?”

“Nothing that made sense!” Mistyfoot hissed. “Come on, we have to go!”

“It would be safer to wait until dawn,” Mothwing hedged. “Since we have to cross WindClan territory.”

“No, we have to leave now,” Mistyfoot insisted. “If trouble is coming, RiverClan cannot be without a leader any longer! There is so much I have to learn!”

Mothwing padded out from her den and shook a few clinging scraps of herb from her fur. “Yes,” she murmured. “There is more to learn than you know.”

Chapter 3

The first light of dawn was beginning to appear on the horizon when Mistyfoot and Mothwing reached the top of WindClan’s ridge. It had been too early for any patrols, so they had crossed the moor unchallenged, traveling in silence apart from the soft brush of their paws on the grass. Mistyfoot paused to catch her breath at the crest of the hill and looked back down at the lake. The water looked thick and almost black from here, pushing against the curls and points of the shoreline. The RiverClan camp was a dark smudge on the far side; Mistyfoot pictured the cats in the clearing, and she wondered if any of them were looking up at the ridge at this moment, spotting her silhouetted against the milky sunrise.

Beside her, Mothwing shifted her paws. “We should keep going,” she meowed. Mistyfoot was surprised that she didn’t seem more excited about the nine lives ceremony. Was visiting the Moonpool and sharing tongues with StarClan just a matter of routine for medicine cats?

Their pace slowed as they began the long, steep scramble over the rocks. Mistyfoot had only traveled this way once before, and she had forgotten how hard it was—or perhaps her legs had just grown older.

“Is it much farther?” she panted after losing her grip on one boulder and almost falling off backward.

“No,” Mothwing replied over her shoulder. “See those bushes up there? The path that leads down to the Moonpool is just behind them.”

Mistyfoot’s head was spinning by the time they pushed their way through the thorny branches and started to follow the spiraling path downward. Her paws slotted into the imprints left by generations of cats before, and for a moment she felt their pelts brush past her, bathing her in musky scent. Welcome, welcome.

Did she hear their voices, too, or was it just her imagination?

Mothwing led her to the edge of the pool. It gleamed under the pale sunlight, reflecting the clouds and the swift flight of a bird across its surface. Mistyfoot’s heart started to beat faster. This was it! She was actually going to be the leader of RiverClan! She glanced at Mothwing and was surprised to see that the medicine cat looked nervous too. The tip of her fluffy tail was twitching, and she seemed reluctant to meet Mistyfoot’s gaze. Perhaps she was feeling anxious about the unfamiliar ceremony after all.

“You’ll be fine,” Mistyfoot reassured her old friend. “It’s the first time for both of us, but we’ll get through it together.”

Mothwing just blinked. “Lie down at the edge of the pool,” she instructed, “and let your muzzle touch the water.”

Mistyfoot settled down with her paws tucked under her. The stone was cold beneath her belly, but the water was colder still, sparkling like ice against her nose. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Good luck,” she heard Mothwing say softly, as though she were very far away.

There was a rush of stars around her, and then a dizzying blackness swallowed her up. Mistyfoot fought the urge to cry out. Am I falling? There were whispers and cries in her ears, but none of them clear enough to hear, and the scents of many cats, some half-recognized, some strange and sharp. Just as Mistyfoot was about to shriek in terror, she felt firm sand underneath her paws. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was standing on a gently sloping shore beside a broad, shallow river that splashed over pebbles and carried the scent of fish. Above, the sky was bright and the sun blazed down, warming her fur. Mistyfoot felt an urge to wade into the water and let fish swim onto her claws; somehow she knew there would be no difficulty in catching a haul of prey.