Mistystar's Omen (2 page)

Chapter 1

Mistyfoot stood at the edge of
the rock and watched the water swirl below her paws. It was brown and thick with debris—twigs, scraps of leaf, even a knot of roots that had once held up a tree—and however hard Mistyfoot stared, she was unable to glimpse the stones on the bottom of the lake, or the distinctive flash of silver that gave away the position of a fish. She stretched down to lap at the surface with her tongue. The water tasted bitter and muddy.

“It's not the same, is it?” Leopardstar commented beside her. Mistyfoot raised her head and looked at her leader. Leopardstar's golden fur looked dull and dusty in the gray dawn light, and the dark spots that had inspired her name seemed to have faded in the last moon. “I thought when the water returned that everything would be as it was before,” Leopardstar went on. She dipped her paw in the lake, staggering a little as she straightened up again, and watched the drips fall from the tips of her claws onto the stone.

“The fish will come back soon,” Mistyfoot meowed. “Now that the streams are flowing, there's no reason for them to stay away.”

Leopardstar gazed at the ruffled water. “So many fish died in the drought,” she sighed, as if Mistyfoot hadn't spoken. “What if the lake stays empty forever? What will we eat?”

Mistyfoot moved closer to her leader until her shoulder brushed Leopardstar's fur. She was shocked to feel the she-cat's bones sharp just beneath the skin. “Everything will be fine,” she murmured. “The beavers' dam has been destroyed, the rain has come, and the long thirst is over. It's been a hard greenleaf, but we have survived.”

“Blackclaw, Voletooth, and Dawnflower didn't,” Leopardstar snapped. “Three elders lost in a single season? I had to watch my Clanmates starve to death because there were no fish to catch, nothing left in the lake but mud. And what about Rippletail? He was as brave as any of the other cats who went to find where the water had gone—why didn't he deserve to come back? Did he go too far beyond the sight of StarClan?”

Mistyfoot let her tail curl forward to rest on Leopardstar's back. “Rippletail died saving the lake, and all the Clans. He will be honored forever.”

Leopardstar turned away and began to pad up the shore. “He paid too high a price,” she growled. “If the fish haven't returned with the water, we're no better off than we were during the drought.” She stumbled, and Mistyfoot jumped forward, ready to support her. But Leopardstar shrugged her off with a hiss and continued over the stones, limping.

Mistyfoot followed at a respectful distance, not wanting to fuss over the proud golden cat. She knew Leopardstar was in pain most of the time now, worn down by a sickness that had resisted all of Mothwing's medicine skills, although it wasn't unknown: the ravaging thirst, the dramatic weight loss in spite of constant hunger, the growing weakness that dulled a cat's eyes and hearing. Mistyfoot felt her gaze soften as she watched Leopardstar reach the end of the pebbles and push her way into the ferns that ringed the RiverClan camp.

Suddenly there was a muffled cry from the depths of the undergrowth.

“Leopardstar?” Mistyfoot bounded into the green stalks. A few strides in, she reached her leader's side. She was slumped on the ground, her eyes stretched wide with pain, her flanks heaving with the effort to draw another breath. “Don't move,” Mistyfoot ordered. “I'll fetch help.” She thrust her way through the rest of the ferns and burst into the clearing at the heart of the territory. “Mothwing! Come quick! Leopardstar has fallen!”

There was the sound of racing paws; then Mothwing's sandy pelt, so close to the shade of Leopardstar's, appeared at the entrance to her den. The medicine cat paused, looking around, and Mistyfoot called, “This way!”

Side by side, the cats pushed through the ferns to their leader. Leopardstar had closed her eyes, and her breath rattled in her chest as she gasped for air. Mothwing bent over her, sniffing and tasting her fur with her tongue. Mistyfoot leaned forward but recoiled from the musty stench coming from the sick cat. Close up, she could see dirt and scurf in Leopardstar's pelt, as if the leader hadn't groomed herself in days.

“Fetch Mintfur and Pebblefoot,” Mothwing mewed quietly over her shoulder. “They haven't gone out on patrol yet. They can help us carry Leopardstar to her den.”

Relieved to have an excuse to leave, and guilty that she wanted to, Mistyfoot backed away and raced to the clearing. She returned with Mintfur and Pebblefoot and watched as Mothwing eased Leopardstar to her paws, propped heavily on either flank by the warriors. Mistyfoot held the ferns aside as the cats half guided, half dragged their leader into the camp.

“Is Leopardstar
dead
?” Mistyfoot heard one of Duskfur's kits whisper.

“Of course not, dear. She's just very tired,” Duskfur mewed.

Mistyfoot stood at the entrance to the den and watched Pebblefoot pat moss into place beneath Leopardstar's head. This was more than mere exhaustion. Already the den seemed darker, the shadows thicker, as though warriors from StarClan were gathering to welcome the RiverClan leader. Mintfur brushed past Mistyfoot as he left, his pale gray pelt smelling sharply of ferns. “Let me know if I can do anything else for her,” he murmured, and Mistyfoot nodded. Pebblefoot followed, his head lowered and the tip of his tail leaving a faint scar in the dust.

Mothwing tucked Leopardstar's front paw more comfortably under the she-cat's chest and straightened up. “I need to fetch some herbs from my den,” she meowed. “Stay with her; let her know that you are here.” She rested her muzzle briefly against Mistyfoot's ear. “Be strong, my friend,” she whispered.

The den seemed deathly quiet after Mothwing had gone. Leopardstar's breathing had grown shallow, a barely audible wheeze that did little more than flex the moss by her muzzle. Mistyfoot crouched down by her leader's head and stroked her tail along Leopardstar's bony flank. “Sleep well,” she mewed softly. “You're safe now. Mothwing is gathering herbs to make you feel better.”

To her surprise, Leopardstar stirred. “It's too late for that,” rasped the she-cat without opening her eyes. “StarClan draws near; I can feel them all around me. This is my time to leave.”

“Don't say that!” hissed Mistyfoot. “Your ninth life has barely started! Mothwing will heal you.”

Leopardstar let out a grunt. “Mothwing has served me so well, but some things are beyond even her skills. Let me go peacefully, Mistyfoot. I won't fight this last battle, and neither should you.”

“But I don't want to lose you!” Mistyfoot protested.

One clouded blue eye opened and gazed at her. “Really?” Leopardstar wheezed. “After what I did to your brother? To all the half-Clan cats?”

For a heartbeat, Mistyfoot was plunged back into the dark and stinking rabbit hole in RiverClan's old camp in the forest. Tigerstar and Leopardstar had united to form TigerClan, and in their quest for the purest warrior blood, they had imprisoned all cats with mixed Clan heritage. Mistyfoot and Stonefur, who had been the RiverClan deputy, had recently learned that Bluestar of ThunderClan was their mother. This had been enough to condemn them in Leopardstar's eyes, and she had allowed Tigerstar to persecute them until Stonefur had been killed, murdered in cold blood by Tigerstar's deputy, Blackfoot. Mistyfoot had been rescued by Firestar and taken to ThunderClan until the terrible battle with BloodClan had ended Tigerstar's death-soaked rule.

“I never deserved your forgiveness,” Leopardstar whispered, jerking Mistyfoot back to the cold, quiet den.

“Tigerstar was responsible for the death of my brother,” Mistyfoot growled. “Tigerstar and Blackfoot. The time of TigerClan had nothing to do with the warrior code that I believe in. I was always loyal to RiverClan—and to you, as our leader.”

Leopardstar sighed. “Your life has been harder than I wanted, Mistyfoot. Losing your brother and three of your kits. You have borne your heartache well.”

Mistyfoot stiffened. No cat would ever know the pain she had felt when she buried her children. “Every queen knows that the life of a kit is a precious and fragile thing. I will see them again in StarClan, and I walk with them in my heart every day,” she mewed.

There was a pause as Leopardstar strained to take a breath, and Mistyfoot half rose, ready to call for help. Then Leopardstar relaxed again. “I am sorry not to have known the joy of having kits. There was a time when I thought it might happen, but it was not to be.” Her words faded away as though she was picturing something she had dreamed of long ago. “Perhaps it was for the best. But I would have been proud to call you my daughter, Mistyfoot.”

Mistyfoot couldn't reply. Her heart ached with the familiar sorrow that she had never had a chance to know her real mother, Bluestar. The ThunderClan leader had revealed her darkest secret to Mistyfoot and Stonefur just before she died on the banks of the river. For a moment, Mistyfoot had been scorched by the love of a mother, but then it had vanished, leaving a cold emptiness that could never be filled.

She curled herself around Leopardstar, just as she had tried to warm Bluestar's sodden body all those moons ago.

“Sleep now,” she murmured into Leopardstar's ear. “I'll be here when you wake.”

Chapter 2

The wind had risen, stirring the
bushes and making the waves splash against the shore, when Mistyfoot woke. The den was pale with dawn light that flickered as the branches of the rowan tree swayed in the breeze. Beside Mistyfoot, Leopardstar was cold and still. Mistyfoot rested her muzzle on the old cat's head, then slipped out of the den and padded through the sleeping camp down to the shore. She stared over the choppy gray water, wondering if Leopardstar had joined their ancestors yet.

Paw steps behind her made Mistyfoot turn. Mothwing was stepping carefully over the stones. “Leopardstar is dead,” the medicine cat announced.

“I know,” Mistyfoot meowed. She closed her eyes against the rush of pain. She felt Mothwing come to stand beside her, spilling warmth and softness from her fur. “I don't feel ready to lead this Clan,” Mistyfoot confessed in a whisper without opening her eyes. “How can I follow in Leopardstar's footsteps?”

Mothwing rested her tail on Mistyfoot's back. “You are more than ready,” she promised. “Think of the path you have traveled so far. You have seen more than most cats ever will in their lifetime.”

“That's because I am old,” Mistyfoot pointed out. “Blackclaw was only a few seasons older than me! Sometimes I feel as if I have outstayed my welcome here, as if I should be walking in StarClan with Stonefur by now.”

“That's mouse-brained, and you know it,” Mothwing retorted. “You have a long life yet to live. Nine long lives, in fact.”

Nine lives!
For a heartbeat, Mistyfoot felt overwhelmed with tiredness. How would she find enough energy to lead her Clan when she could barely move her paws? Would she have a chance to feel sad about Leopardstar's death, with so much to do? Mothwing seemed to sense her hesitation.

“There will be plenty of time to grieve for Leopardstar. I will be here whenever you need me. You are not alone, Mistyfoot. You must summon our Clanmates; tell them about Leopardstar. You are their leader now, and they need you as much as they needed Leopardstar.”

Keeping her tail on Mistyfoot's spine, Mothwing led her back to the camp. Mistyfoot breathed in the delicate scent of herbs from her friend's pelt and began to feel better. “I couldn't do this without you,” she murmured.

“Nor should you have to,” Mothwing replied briskly. “I am your medicine cat, and I will do everything I can to help you.”

The clearing was already filling up with cats, who circled anxiously, whispering. Mistyfoot jumped onto the broad willow stump outside Leopardstar's den and called to her Clanmates. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words!” In spite of her grief, she couldn't help feeling a rush of excitement as the cats stopped circling and settled on their haunches around the tree stump, gazing expectantly up at her.
Mothwing was right! They see me as their leader even before I have been given my nine lives and my new name!

“Leopardstar has gone to walk with StarClan,” she announced. A murmur of sadness spread through the cats like a gust of cold wind.

“We were lucky to have her as our leader for so many moons,” Graymist mewed. “She was brave and strong-willed on behalf of all of us.”

“She told me I was doing really well in my battle training,” the apprentice Mossypaw commented mournfully.

Duskfur drew her kits closer with a sweep of her tail. “I had hoped she would live long enough to see these little ones become apprentices,” she sighed.

Beetlewhisker stood up, his brown-and-white pelt gleaming in the early rays of the sun. “When will you be getting your nine lives?” he asked Mistyfoot.

Mistyfoot winced. This was what she had been afraid of, that she would scarcely have time to draw breath—let alone mourn the former leader—before she was plunged into her new life. But she had been Leopardstar's deputy for a long time, and she had always known what her duties would be when this moment came. And she couldn't help looking forward to the chance to walk with Mothwing among her warrior ancestors, to learn the secrets of the future that would help her to lead her Clan. “I'll go to the Moonpool as soon as I can,” she declared.

Mothwing stirred, and Mistyfoot looked questioningly at her. “We can wait until tomorrow,” meowed the medicine cat. “We must sit vigil for Leopardstar tonight.”

A black tom stood up and nodded to Mistyfoot. “I speak for all the warriors when I say that I will be honored to serve you as my leader,” he announced.

“Thank you, Reedwhisker,” Mistyfoot purred. Her mind flashed back to the time she had nursed this cat at her belly with his littermates; he was the only one of her kits who had survived, and every day she took pride in the warrior he had become.

Petalfur twitched her tail. “Some of us can speak for ourselves,” she mewed irritably. “But I will be as loyal to you as I was to Leopardstar, may she walk in peace among the stars.”

“Mistystar!” called Troutpaw.

Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes at the pale gray apprentice. “Not yet, Troutpaw. Not until I have received my nine lives.”
Tomorrow I will walk with our ancestors, and say good-bye to my warrior name forever.

Mistyfoot jumped down from the tree stump and called to Grasspelt: “Could you lead a hunting patrol before sunhigh? Take Minnowtail and Mossypaw, and Icewing if she feels up to it.”

The white she-cat sniffed. “Of course I'm up to it! I've spent the last three sunrises stuck in this camp, so I'm more than ready to stretch my legs.”

Mistyfoot hid a purr of amusement. “You're allowed to rest as much as you want after journeying to the beavers' dam,” she reminded Icewing. “But if you feel like hunting, then we'd all be grateful for your sharp eyes.”

Reedwhisker padded up to Mistyfoot. “Would you like me to visit the other Clans and let them know about Leopardstar's death?”

Mistyfoot shook her head. “No. They'll find out soon enough. We must honor Leopardstar by carrying out our duties as usual.”

“In that case, should I lead a boundary patrol?” Reedwhisker offered. “I want to be sure that the fox we scented yesterday hasn't come any closer to the camp.”

Mistyfoot nodded. “Yes, please. And keep an eye out for squirrels or mice while you're on that side of the territory. In case there aren't many fish to be found in the lake yet.” She wondered if any of her Clanmates knew just how empty the water seemed to be.
If they haven't noticed on their own, I'm not going to point it out to them. But we might need to stock the fresh-kill pile with other prey for a while.

“You won't have to do this for much longer,” mewed Graymist close to her ear.

Mistyfoot jumped. “Do what?” She wondered if she had said something about the lack of fish out loud.

Graymist nodded toward the cats who were gathering into groups. “Organize patrols. You'll have to appoint a deputy before moonhigh, won't you?”

“A deputy?” Mistyfoot echoed. “Yes, of course.”

The she-cat looked at her closely. “Do you know who you'll choose? You must have thought about it before now.”

Mistyfoot didn't think she could admit that no, she hadn't. Of course she had known that Leopardstar was sick, but she hadn't really imagined that the leader's ninth life would end. There was so much to do! And all of it seemed to rest on her shoulders. To her relief, Reedwhisker called Graymist to join his border patrol and Mistyfoot didn't have to answer.

For a moment the bushes were alive with movement as cats headed out on their patrols; then suddenly the clearing was empty and silent. Mistyfoot drew a deep breath and looked around. Everything was reassuringly familiar, from the well-trodden bare earth where the cats sat to eat and share tongues to the carefully draped brambles that hid the different dens. Only Mistyfoot felt changed beyond recognition, daunted and breathless at the thought of what lay ahead.

“Mistyfoot?” Willowshine was standing at the entrance to the medicine cats' den, which was shielded between two mossy rocks. She trotted across the flattened grass with her tail kinked over her back. “Do you want me to come with you to the Moonpool? When you go to receive your nine lives, I mean.”

Mistyfoot blinked. “Isn't that Mothwing's duty?”

“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.