Mistystar’s Omen

The bushes behind her rustled, and a pale gray cat appeared. For a moment Mistyfoot thought it was her brother, Stonefur, but then she recognized the scent and knew it was Graypool, the RiverClan she-cat she had called mother for so long. Mistyfoot purred loudly, and in two strides Graypool was beside her, licking her fur and nuzzling her head with her chin. Mistyfoot buried her nose in Graypool’s feather-soft chest, suddenly feeling like a kit again.

“I’m so worried I’ll make a mistake in the ceremony,” she confessed.

“Hush, little one,” Graypool soothed her. “You’ll be fine. There’s nothing to get wrong; I promise. Are you ready?”

Mistyfoot straightened up and nodded. She was startled to realize that the shore was crowded with cats now, their fur lit by stars and their eyes shining with warmth. She wondered for a fleeting moment where Mothwing was, but then Graypool stepped forward and lifted her voice above the splashing of the river.

“My precious Mistyfoot, beloved nearly-daughter, I give you a life for loving your Clanmates as if each cat were your kit, borne of your body and your pain.” She rested her muzzle against Mistyfoot’s, and a bolt like lightning shot through Mistyfoot’s pelt. She squeaked and leaped back in pain, but Graypool’s eyes glowed at her, giving her strength, and Mistyfoot dug her claws into the sand to hold her ground. The fire beneath her skin passed and she gasped for breath.

“Thank you, Graypool,” she whispered. The she-cat nodded and stepped back.

Then a familiar shape loomed over Mistyfoot, and she basked in her brother’s scent. “I told you we would meet again,” Stonefur purred. “I give you a life for treating all cats equally, for fighting against injustice and unfairness wherever it comes.”

Mistyfoot braced herself, but the shock from this life was less severe, feeling instead like a wave of strength building inside her, swelling from nose to tail-tip until she felt as if she could leap over mountains.

The next cat was a slender, soft-furred gray tabby with eyes that reflected the blue of the sky. “Feathertail!” Mistyfoot cried. “I have missed you!”

Feathertail’s gaze softened. “I have missed you too, Mistyfoot. I haven’t forgotten the lessons I learned as your apprentice. The life I give you is for accepting your destiny, however hard that may seem. Some things are beyond our control; that doesn’t mean they should be fought against.”

This life was uncomfortable, prickling like thorns and choking her like a fishbone caught in her throat. Mistyfoot struggled to keep still and not spit out the invisible bone. Perhaps this was a warning of how difficult her destiny was going to be? Mistyfoot felt a tremor of unease.

“Welcome, Mistyfoot,” purred a deep voice. She opened her eyes to see Crookedstar, leader of RiverClan before Leopardstar, looking down at her. Mistyfoot bowed her head. “You don’t have to do that now,” Crookedstar reminded her. “We are equals here. I give you a life with the wisdom and strength to carry the burden of leadership. It will weigh heavy, but remember that every problem is nothing more than a challenge to be overcome.”

Mistyfoot’s legs buckled as she felt a huge, invisible pressure crushing her. She forced herself to stand straight, and felt the pressure transform into a soft, powerful warmth. I am strong enough to carry this burden, she told herself.

The next life came from the broad-shouldered brown tabby Oakheart, who had been Crookedstar’s brother and deputy. But Mistyfoot knew him now as something else: her father. “My beautiful daughter,” he murmured, resting his muzzle against her ears. “I am so sorry I could not be a true father to you. Live well, believe in yourself, and we will walk in StarClan together one day. I give you a life with the courage to follow your heart,” he purred, and Mistyfoot braced herself against the jolt of feeling that seared through her. She felt a flash of sorrow as her father stepped away from her, but almost at once another cat was close beside her, breathing warmly into her ear.

“Oh, my daughter,” Bluestar whispered. “If only you knew how much I missed you.”

Mistyfoot lifted her head and studied the dark gray she-cat. Bluestar looked young and lithe and strong, very different from the soaked and battered cat she and her brother had dragged from the river.

Bluestar let her tail-tip rest on Mistyfoot’s flank. “The life I give you is for doing what is right, however hard that might be.” The regret in her voice almost broke Mistyfoot’s heart. She forced out a purr, in spite of the fire that was scorching through her blood.

“I know you only ever tried to do the right thing,” she rasped.

Bluestar leaned forward until her muzzle was touching the tip of Mistyfoot’s ear. “Thank you,” she breathed.

A beautiful she-cat with delicate silver markings came forward. Mistyfoot tipped her head on one side. “Silverstream? Is that you?”