CHAPTER FIVE
As Whitepaw and his mentor made the pilgrimage to Highstones, all was nearly forgotten in the beautiful golden light which danced around the hills. Birds were singing, and their sweet melody made it hard for Whitepaw to fear. The whole trip would have been pleasant had Bluffcloud not spoken to him as they crossed a rocky flatland.
“Whitepaw?” she inquired. “You are clever and determined, and I never know you to do anything unless you have a reason. So tell me, what was your reason for that uncalled-for announcement this morning?”
Whitepaw longed to tell her everything, but he couldn’t force the words out of his mouth. Bluffcloud had enough to worry about without having to comfort a few apprentices who’d had nightmares. He could always tell the medicine cat… but they were interpreters, and Whitepaw was sure that no dream any cat had ever received was as clear as his own. Besides, if there was an attack coming it wouldn’t be a job for the kindest cat in the Clan to handle. He would have to tell her the truth.
Climbing over a row of boulders, he told Bluffcloud all about last night’s encounter with felines both good and evil, both alive and StarClan-dwelling. His heart began beating faster, and finally the she-cat nodded.
“Swirlingpool was my mentor.” she replied, eyes gazing into the heavens. “I’ll never forget the day she died.”
“How did…how did Mother die?” Whitepaw couldn’t help but ask.
Bluffcloud didn’t answer. “That was the same day Grassclaw and I became warriors. I remember feeling so bad after I heard the news, that I was happy due to my moving up in rank when I should have been mourning the loss of my mentor. When I heard how she had died…” The deputy took a deep breath. “I requested of Direstar to allow me to be your mentor.”
Whitepaw was confused. How did his mother’s death have to do with him? Bluffcloud continued.
“I figured that if your mother was such a great teacher, any kit of hers must be a great learner. And I was right. Whitepaw, you are the best apprentice a warrior could ask for. And let me guarantee you, as soon as we get back from Highstones I’ll prepare the Clan for your rogue attack.”
As it turned out, she would never have the chance.
The pair continued on, and reached Highstones as the sun began to sink, turning the crests of the hills a beautiful orange-red as it ended yet another day. Giving no more than a glance to Whitepaw, Bluffcloud darted into the small opening and began padding down the tunnel, leaving her apprentice to go more slowly behind. A drip, drip noise startled the pair of them, and both sets of feet began to scamper until they met in an elliptical cavern with pointed tooth-stones going every which way.
I wonder what Grassclaw would think, Whitepaw wondered,
if he knew that the cat who is to be our new leader was afraid of a noise in the sacred place. The thought made him want to burst out laughing, but he heeded the warning which had been given to him by Lilycrest as he choked down the traveling herbs:
“Speak inside Highstones, and you shall break the traditions which we have honored for so long.”Several moments of waiting proved to no avail, for they had made good time and the moon was not yet overhead. Several more moments passed, and at last a single stone began glimmering, then another, until the entire place was illuminated by the moon shining through the cavern ceiling. Whitepaw was awed, and for a moment he thought he would yet again be enveloped by a dream, but instead it was Bluffcloud who seemed to be in sleep. She had pressed her nose to the largest stone, in the center of the cavern, and her ruddy-orange shape heaved in calm breathing. Whitepaw simply stood sentry, and waited until dawn without saying a word.
It was a blessing that he did, too -- for it was not much later that the rogues attacked.
CHAPTER SIX
here were four toms and one she-cat, all immensely powerful.
They came stealthily at first, pitch black paws not making a sound against the stone walls of the tunnel. Then the thrill of battle began pulsing through them, and Whitepaw was immediately alerted over their presence as they crashed into the cavern.
He knew he was outnumbered, and a quick glance at his mentor told him that she would not be awake soon. The huge black figures cut him off from actually trying to wake Bluffcloud, and realizing that these were like the cats from his dream he let out a pitiful cry.
The largest figure snickered. “Look, it’s a little kitten. You want to get back home, kitty? Huh?”
Those around him burst into laughter, all except for one, who silenced the ruckus with a light green glare and padded towards Bluffcloud. With a jolt, Whitepaw recognized the female rogue Raven from his dream.
“Let’s take care of this quick, alright?” she commanded. “Keep the little one here as a hostage. One of you report to Midnight, and I’ll make sure that this one never wakes up.” She turned to Bluffcloud, and with a sound that rang in Whitepaw’s ears forever afterward, she scored a massive claw across the deputy’s throat.
“No…” Whitepaw watched as the last breath seeped out of his mentor’s body, and hung his head. “Great StarClan, this can’t be happening.” She never got her nine lives...
“Oh, yes, it can!” snarled Raven. “And it will. This is our place now.”
As one of the rogue toms darted into the exit tunnel, the remaining three crowded around Whitepaw, looking at him with bloodthirsty expressions, most undoubtedly wishing they could kill him then and there. The small white tom looked around for an escape routed, but his only one -- a few paw-sized crevices leading up to the hole in the ceiling -- was blocked by Raven, whose gaze was fixed on him as well. He sent a silent prayer to StarClan that he would get out alive, and as if in answer three stars twinkled from behind a wisp of cloud. Crowstream, Soddentail, and Swirlingpool?
The silence was shattered by the voice of Raven, who nodded at the largest tom. “I’m going to leave you alone here. We need to shape up if we’re going to move here before dawn. If he gets away,” and here she squinted at Whitepaw, “ there will be trouble for the lot of you.” She padded away, and Whitepaw breathed a sigh of relief. Now he had a lightly better chance.
Did she say… move here? The thought of a dirty group of rogues living in the sacred cave startled Whitepaw, and his horrified expression must have been noticeable, for his three guards began howling with laughter again.
“Don’t worry, little kitty, we’re not going to hurt you.” one rogue said in a mocking voice.
“You’ll be safe with us.” said another. More laughter followed, and Whitepaw took the chance to scratch the largest right on the nose.
“Yow! Tough little kitty.” he hissed, not so happy anymore. All three sprang to their paws, and moved towards Whitepaw so he was forced closer to the far corner of the cage.
“Any more of that,” the smallest tom scolded, his voice like the screeching of a sick hawk, “and you’ll get a few scratches on that pretty white fur of yours.” The others nodded.
Whitepaw simply smiled. This was right where he wanted to be.
“If you get too out of hand, we might even kill you.” another guard said. He didn’t notice Whitepaw climbing up the wall, using the crevices as pawholds, until it was too late. All three yowled a battle cry, and went at top speed towards the agile apprentice, managing only to crash into one another. The force almost sent Whitepaw flying, but he grabbed a vine with his teeth and continued to climb until he reached the hole and pulled himself up. The smallest guard was halfway up himself, but he didn’t reach the top until Whitepaw was well away.
“Look what you did! Now we’re in for it.”
Whitepaw didn’t bother to look back as he ran. The wind stung his face and branches nearly got his eye, but his fury and sadness for Bluffcloud’s death pushed him onward. What was to become of the Clan? No one would believe him now when he spoke of the rogue attack, and a new deputy had not yet been chosen. It was terrible -- just a few hours ago all was relatively peaceful, and he had Bluffcloud by his side to comfort and guide him.
Dashing into camp sometime later, he gave a yowl of despair and leaped onto the smallest branch of the Lichentree. Cats yawned, and a few peered out of their dens to shush him, but the majority of the Clan still slept on.
Coldpaw was the first to speak, scrutinizing him with a glare. “Another of your dreams, Whitepaw? I suppose in this one, StarClan gave you nine lives and made you our leader!” She scoffed, but it was short-lived, for Fallentail gave a gasp.
“What has happened, Whitepaw? Where is Bluffcloud?”
Whitepaw hung his head, and waited until nearly every cat in the Clan was up, which didn’t take long after they heard that he had returned. “Bluffcloud.” he echoed, and told them of the rogues, and how in one blow Raven had ended the life of their to-be leader. He heard Falconfeather sob, and Waterfang rested his muzzle on her shoulder, mewing consoling words. The rest of the Clan was quiet, and Grassclaw spoke next.
“Those rogues again, hmm? Ha! There are about as many rogues in our territory as flying hedgehogs! Go back to sleep, Whitepaw. You’re disgracing your Clan.”
Whitepaw refused to give up. “I saw this with my own eyes, Grassclaw. The rogues are moving into Highstones, and they murdered Bluffcloud.”
Grassclaw sneered, and his was even meaner than Coldpaw’s. “You murdered Bluffcloud, you mean.” He leaped onto the Lichentree, sending Whitepaw tumbling into the clearing below. The latter looked up with terrified amber eyes.
“Cats of RainClan, I have been on several patrols these days, and I can safely say there are no rogues about. If there were, our fine warriors would surely deal with them and it would be all over in less than a day. Bluffcloud certainly has not returned with this apprentice, and I can smell blood on this cat’s claws!” As the whole of RainClan let out a gasp, Grassclaw leaped down and help up Whitepaw’s paw with his teeth. “Well, young apprentice, what have you to say for this?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Whitepaw’s heart sank as he attempted to reply. “It…it’s from the rogues! I scratched o-one of them in the face while I was escaping! It’s t-true!” He hung his head again, and the Clan’s angry faces only grew angrier.
“I see.” Grassclaw jeered, and his eyes flashed with an unrecognizable expression. “No cat here can back his statement. Surely he has murdered your leader at Highstones! He shall be driven out at once!”
Yowls of rage erupted from the Clan, directed at Whitepaw, and some cat shouted, “Grassclaw should be our new leader!” More yowls followed, this time of pure agreement. Coldpaw simply puffed out her chest, and Grassclaw sat a little taller on his perch.
“Whitepaw, you are hereby exiled from this Clan for as long as you live, and further. By sunhigh tomorrow--”
At that moment, a small ginger shape flashed past Whitepaw, and took a seat next to Grassclaw. It took a moment for the Clan to recognize Furypaw, the medicine cat’s apprentice.
“Not so fast, Grassclaw.” Furypaw said with uncharacteristic confidence. “If you do not believe his words, perhaps you will believe those of your medicine cat. I, too have had a dream, in which Bluffcloud came to me and spoke of her last moments. She died of a rogue’s claws, not her apprentice’s. She told me that before her life was ended, StarClan prophecied that Whitepaw should be our new leader.”
Grassclaw squatted down, and shoved his face into Furypaw’s. “Apprentices these days seem to be more trouble than they’re worth.” he whispered, just loud enough for only Furypaw himself and Whitepaw to hear. The ginger tom backed up and looked like he was going to be sick, but another cat was approaching the Lichentree. It was Lilycrest, Furypaw’s mentor.
“As I recall, Grassclaw, it’s against the warrior code for a leader to go against the word of StarClan.” she chastised. “I had a similar dream, and Whitepaw is to be leader.”
Grassclaw looked somewhat embarrassed, but he didn’t step down. The Clan yowled once again, but Whitepaw soon realized that they were cheering him on. He heard Charredpaw and Moonpaw, Falconfeather and Waterfang, Lilycrest and Furypaw, and everyone else who called themselves RainClan.
Finally Grassclaw did leave the clearing, though he didn’t look at all angry. Coldpaw left as well, and as night began turning to dawn Whitepaw could hardly believe he was still alive.
*
“Darkness, we’re leaving.”
A figure moved inside the tumbledown Twoleg den, shifting only slightly before calling out an answer. “Safe travel.”
The voice was raspy, and the cat who possessed it had seen many years. Though sunlight filtered in through the large cracks, the creature could not be seen under a heavy shroud of black material. Seeds and leaves were stuck in odd places around her, and more of the same lined every wall.
But it was all a façade. None of these healing plants were ever used -- any cat who was wounded never returned in DangerClan. And Darkness was the one in charge of making sure it was done. Blood stained the ground here, the blood of countless cats -- the Clan had not been here for very long, and already it was a nightmare come true. All this killing; would it ever end?
Darkness had reason to think it would.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When the day burst forth in full bloom, Fallentail and Lilycrest escorted Whitepaw to the leader’s den beneath the Lichentree; the remaining apprentices tagged along behind, eyes wide. The Clan was still sad, for two leaders had parted from this world in far less than a moon, but one’s body was being held captive by rogues -- and finally they managed to believe it. They had to fight before they could properly mourn their loss.
Whitepaw’s every step into his den filled his heart with awe. This was his den now, and he would preside over all the Clan just by sleeping inside. What an honor.
As the two older cats dipped their heads and walked outside, Charredpaw, Moonpaw and Furypaw circled around their new leader, eyes still wide. A mischievous grin spread across Moonpaw’s face.
“O great and powerful Whitestar, what tedious chore shall we apprentices attend to?”
Charredpaw laughed. Furypaw cuffed him on the ear.
“This is serious, Moonpaw! Whitepaw is in charge of the whole Clan now. He’s the chosen one of RainClan… the youngest leader.”
Moonpaw dipped his head, but the gleam of playfulness still shone in his eyes.
Lilycrest reentered, shooing the apprentices off gently but firmly with her creamy white tail. As they left, she turned to Whitepaw and spoke.
“Greetings, Whitepaw. I regret the fact that I couldn’t fully explain my dream earlier this morning -- Grassclaw sure has been a bother, has he not?”
Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “StarClan came to me, Whitepaw and showed me everything that happened in the cavern last night. They told me that you were to be leader, and tried to assure me that you could take care of the rogues.”
Whitepaw shuddered. “But how can I defeat the strongest cats in our territory? And when must I choose a deputy?”
“Patience, young one. Sleep will bring you the answers, even in our camp -- for these are desperate times and you will not make it to the Moonstone before the invasion begins. You will find in your heart a way to defeat the rogues, and much blood need not be spilled to do so if you act quickly. Appeal to their better natures, and there is no way you can lose.”
As the beautiful young she-cat turned to leave, she looked back at Whitepaw with a sliver of sadness in her expression. “Swirlingpool…” she murmured, barely loud enough for herself to hear. “You did quite well with this one.”
Remembering the rogue leader’s orders to attack at sunhigh, Whitepaw took a step outside his den to prepare the Clan for battle. It was then that he remembered the whirl of sadness through which RainClan was still traversing, and realized that he would only make it longer and harder if he died in this battle. The Clan’s morale would be raised if he could choose a deputy now...
But when would he prepare for battle? Whitepaw’s thought from the night of his dream -- how it must be infinitely hard to lead a Clan -- came back to him like a splash of cold, clear water. He would need a deputy, an adult, to guide him in his decisions. Finishing his journey towards the Lichentree, he leaped atop a large branch and commenced summoning the Clan.
Coldpaw and Grassclaw were not in attendance, which wasn’t surprising. Every other cat was seemingly bright-eyed as they watched their new leader, but when he spoke a dead silence filled the clearing.
“Cats of RainClan, there is a Clan of rogues waiting outside our territory to attack us at any minute.” said Whitepaw, every word gasped out like sand. “We can defeat them if we all stand ready…” He broke off, for a moment remembering that he was a young apprentice and not a loyal leader. What could he say next?
“Well, I feel the need to appoint a deputy right now.”
There was a murmur of apprehension, and a kit wailed from the nursery, sending yet another shiver down Whitepaw’s spine.
Who should I pick? Another terribly planned idea. Every cat was so loyal -- except Grassclaw -- and deserved to be deputy… it was a choice that could have taken hours or days to decide upon, but Whitepaw only had a moment before the Clan doubted his strength. Finally, he nodded his head and settled on a choice, his voice ringing loud and clear:
“Laughingstream shall be the new deputy of RainClan.”
He had apparently made a good choice. The black-and-white she-cat -- his foster mother, Whitepaw remembered -- could barely move amidst all the cats congratulating her, but she managed at last to perch beneath Whitepaw and nod her head modestly.
“I shall do my best for you, my Clan.” she announced. As the stream of cats began padding towards her once again, Whitepaw silently slipped away and went into his new den to receive new orders from StarClan.
Hopefully he wouldn’t be too late.
CHAPTER NINE
I walk now through a dark forest, much like that of our own earthly Clan. StarClan are nowhere in sight, and I worry. How will I ever manage to share dreams with them and wake up in time to defend my Clan from those vicious rogues? Is StarClan doing this to mock me?
This last thought strikes me with a pang of sadness. “Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a leader.” I hiss aloud. “Perhaps… this was all some dirty trick of StarClan’s to destroy us! Crowstream lied to me, showed me a false vision to make me take action against a Clan of nonexistent rogues and abandoning me at the moment I need him most! Soddentail, Swirlingpool, they’re all in on it as well. Laughingstream must be my real mother, for my mother would never do a terrible thing like that!”
My claws scratch deep furrows into the ground as I speak, anger flaring up inside of me. “I despise StarClan more than anything in this world! From now on, I stand for only myself and my Clan!”
Suddenly, a noise rouses me from my soliloquy. I look up to see a dark feline figure making its way towards me, and taking it for Crowstream I kick out with my hind paws and churn dirt into the figure’s oncoming face.
“Peace, young one.” The figure speaks as it comes to a halt beside me. “You’re acting like a kit, not like a Clan leader.”
I stop and look up, my eyes blinking with confusion. Instead of the steady, clear, deep mew of Crowstream, this cat’s voice is raspy, higher, and foreign. It is most probably a she-cat, but something is blocking her scent from reaching my nose.
“Who..a. are you?” I stammer, my anger at what I took to be a trick dying down a little as the she-cat comes closer. A touch of her fur against mine makes me recoil, for her pelt is but a fold of smooth, herb-scented material atop her body. For a moment I am led to think that she is a creature of the darkest corners of StarClan.
She chuckles. “You’ve no reason to think that, my dear Whitepaw,” she says, “for I do indeed have real fur. Just wait a moment.” I back away a few pawsteps as she shakes from head to tail, and in a few moments the material flies off to reveal a bright ginger she-cat with spunky green eyes.
Something in the back of my mind makes me think that I have met her somewhere. But try as I might, I can not. She suddenly shoots me a glance, a scared one, though moments later her eyes are twinkling with mischief. Could she be one of the rogues, setting a trap for me in my dreams? That seemed unlikely.
Then suddenly, my mind drifts back to a moment not long before, when Grassclaw accused me of murdering my mentor and was challenged by Lilycrest, with the latter winning out in the end. But I had no mind for those two; it was another cat which I was concerned about. One who had also dared to speak with Grassclaw and who emerged quite worse for wear. One whose steeply sloping forehead and ever-cowardly expression matched those which I now saw on the she-cat in my dream.
Furypaw.
“I am Furypaw’s mother.” the she-cat mews, and I am startled back into this dream world as I realize that she is reading my thoughts. “As you may know, I joined your Clan as a loner by the name of Alder, though soon afterwards my name was changed to Sparrow-wing. I was soon to bear kits, and Bluffcloud, then Bluffpaw, discovered me unconscious outside your camp entrance, and then took me in. My mate was nowhere to be found, though I remember him quite well. His name was Dart.”
That name strikes familiarity in my head as well, and I remember the rogues in my previous dream. One named Dart had just returned from a mission, and had informed another rogue, perhaps the leader, of RainClan’s plight. That seems so long ago.
“Dart had many other names, though none come to mind at the moment.” continues Sparrow-wing. “He was a spy for any side which would give him food and shelter. Anyway, my kits were born successfully sometime later, and I gave them all proud warrior names: Furykit. Ashkit. Summerkit. I hoped that they would grow up to be good Clan warriors, but Ashkit and Summerkit died two days after birth. My only remaining kit felt like he had the reputation of our entire family on his shoulders then, and when he was six moons he found shelter in the ways of a medicine cat apprentice. I left the Clan to give him some time alone, and met up with a group of massive black rogues known as DangerClan. Dart was one of their members now, and I decided to join them. My orange fur was hidden by a black Twoleg shroud to make me look like one of them, and I became their medicine cat - though one could hardly call it medicine, for my only job was to kill any cat who couldn’t fight.”
She goes on after taking a large breath. “Now DangerClan is here, having driven out a group of Twolegs. They are moving to a place which your kind hold in reverence, a stony cave which shines is the moonlight. And in only a little while they will attack your Clan.”
