Mistystar's Omen

by Erin Hunter

  Almost the whole Clan gathered in the clearing by the lake to watch the elders gently scoop earth over Leopardstar’s body. Mothwing stood by the former leader’s head and spoke the words of the ceremony, letting them drift in the air like scent.

  “May StarClan light your path, Leopardstar. May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.”

  Mistystar stared at Mothwing’s golden pelt, wondering what the other cats would do if they knew the truth. Mistystar was surrounded by Clanmates, their cheers of her new name still echoed in her ears, yet she had never felt more alone. How could she lead her Clan without a medicine cat who believed in their warrior ancestors? Why had none of the StarClan cats told her the truth? Were they angry with RiverClan for having a medicine cat who could never fulfill all her duties? And yet they had still given Mistystar her nine lives. . . .

  After the ceremony, Mistystar headed to Leopardstar’s den beneath the rowan tree and started to pull out the dusty bedding. A matted chunk of moss got stuck at the entrance to the den, and Mistystar dug in her hind paws as she struggled to yank it free. Graymist joined her, and together they tugged the moss into the open air. It smelled damp and musty, making Mistystar sneeze.

  “You must be exhausted,” Graymist commented.

  Why does everyone keep telling me how tired I must be? “I’m fine,” Mistystar snapped, a little more sharply than she intended.

  Graymist tipped her head on one side and studied Mistystar. “Is everything okay? You seem upset.”

  Mistystar shrugged as she clawed at the chunk of moss, breaking it into small pieces that would be easier to carry out of the camp. “There’s a lot to do,” she mewed. “And I miss Leopardstar.”

  “We all do,” Graymist reminded her. “But there’s no rush for you to fill her paw steps. With all the Clans still recovering from the drought, things should be peaceful for a while. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  Mistystar felt a sudden urge to confide in Graymist about Mothwing, to tell her how lost she felt without a medicine cat who would be able to share tongues with StarClan. But this was too huge a secret to share with her Clanmates. She would have to find a way of dealing with this alone. She touched Graymist lightly on the flank with her tail.

  “I’m fine,” she meowed. “I’ll clear this away later. I just want to get some sleep now.”

  Graymist looked doubtful. “What about clean bedding? Shall I have the apprentices fetch some for you?”

  Mistystar shook her head. “I can sleep on what’s left. I’ll add it to their duties tomorrow.” Graymist trotted away, and Mistystar crawled into the narrow den beneath the rowan tree. Even though the moss had been cleared out, Leopardstar’s scent still clung to the walls and the branches overhead. Mistystar curled up with her nose tucked under her tail and shut her eyes. As she drifted into sleep, she wondered if she would dream herself back into StarClan, where she could question her ancestors about Mothwing, but instead she found herself searching through a dark, empty landscape, with the sound of running water just out of reach and no cats to answer her cries.

  She was woken the following day by the sound of the rowan branches clashing in the wind. A few leaves tumbled into the den, blown by a gust that pierced Mistystar’s fur. For a moment, Mistystar stared at the curved earthen walls around her, wondering where the other warriors were; then she remembered that Leopardstar was dead, she was now the leader of RiverClan, and this would be her den for the rest of her life. My nine lives.

  Outside she heard Mothwing giving Willowshine instructions: “Thanks to Jayfeather, we have plenty of watermint and tansy, but our stocks of comfrey are running low and we should gather more while the plants are still growing. I used most of our cobwebs on Rushpaw’s cut when he fell off that tree trunk, so we need to stock up on those, too.”

  Mistystar recalled Willowshine’s offer to come to the Moonpool with her, and she felt her stomach churn as she realized Mothwing’s apprentice must know the truth about her mentor’s lack of faith. There was such a large part of her training that could never come from Mothwing. Had Willowshine spoken to the other medicine cats about it? Mistystar pushed herself to her paws, feeling every one of her seasons as she stretched her spine. She padded out of her den just as Willowshine was making for the entrance to the camp.

  “Wait, Willowshine! I’ll come with you!”

  The medicine cat turned, looking surprised. “Er, okay, Mistystar.”

  Mistystar saw Mothwing watching them from the far side of the clearing. The golden cat’s expression was impossible to read. Was she afraid of what Willowshine might say, or was she relieved that the truth was out? Mistystar ducked through the gap in the bushes and fell in beside Willowshine as they pushed their way through the dripping ferns.

  “Yuck!” squeaked Willowshine as a leaf spilled sparkling raindrops onto her neck fur.

  “We need the rain,” Mistystar reminded her, swerving to avoid a particularly wet-looking clump of stalks.

  “Couldn’t it fall at night, and let us stay dry during the day?” Willowshine complained, half joking, as she shook her pelt.

  “Perhaps you should put in a request to StarClan,” Mistystar teased back.

  Willowshine was negotiating a prickly tendril that lay across the path. “I’ll try,” she replied, sounding amused.

  “So, how’s the training going?” Mistystar asked, hoping that her question didn’t sound forced.

  Willowshine swerved to avoid a puddle. “It’s great,” she mewed. “Mothwing’s teaching me how to combine herbs to make them more effective. She knows so much about plants! I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to learn it all.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Mistystar meowed. “What about the . . . the StarClan side of your duties? Has she taught you about that, too?”

  Mistystar had drawn level with Willowshine now, so she could see the little cat blink and look away. “Mothwing is the best mentor I would wish for,” she replied.

  Her evasive answer spoke volumes to Mistystar. She knows that Mothwing doesn’t believe in StarClan! For a moment, Mistystar was torn. She didn’t want to challenge Willowshine’s loyalty and respect for her mentor, but how could they ignore the fact that Mothwing could not fulfill all her medicine cat duties? Mistystar stopped and turned to face Willowshine.

  “I know the truth,” she mewed. “Mothwing didn’t come with me to StarClan when I received my nine lives. That’s why you offered to come, isn’t it?”

  Willowshine nodded, her blue eyes full of pain. “It’s not Mothwing’s fault! She’s the best medicine cat RiverClan could have!”

  “But what about visiting the Moonpool, sharing tongues with StarClan, recognizing signs from our ancestors? Those are all part of a medicine cat’s responsibilities,” Mistystar pointed out.

  “I can take care of those!” Willowshine insisted. She rolled a piece of fern under her front paw. “When I started training, Leafpool visited me in my dreams. She helped me learn the things that Mothwing couldn’t teach me. I know enough to help; I promise!”

  Mistystar shook her head. “I’m sure you do, little one. But you are too young to carry all that responsibility alone. Mothwing should have said something long before we got this far.”

  Willowshine’s fur fluffed up and she opened her mouth to speak, but Mistystar raised one paw to stop her. “Don’t say something you might come to regret, Willowshine,” she warned. “This isn’t up to you now. Go collect the herbs for Mothwing, and I’ll see you back in the camp.”

  Willowshine shut her mouth with a snap and thrust her way into the long grass. Mistystar watched her go for a moment, then turned and headed back to the clearing. Mothwing was standing in the center of the empty camp as if she was waiting for her.

  “Did you speak with Willowshine?” Mothwing asked.

  Mistystar nodded. “You have a loyal and brave apprentice,” she remarked.

  “I couldn’t be more proud of her,” Mothwing agreed. “But my . . . my r
elationship with StarClan has nothing to do with her. You shouldn’t have questioned her about it.”

  “It has everything to do with her!” Mistystar flashed back. “You are supposed to be training her to be a medicine cat! That means being able to walk in StarClan and speak with our warrior ancestors!”

  Mothwing’s hackles rose. “I have never stopped Willowshine from doing that. I would never tell her what she should believe.”

  “But you should believe in StarClan, too! You are our medicine cat! Can’t you see that you are betraying your Clan by living your entire life as a lie?”

  “I am not lying!” hissed Mothwing. “I have never pretended to do anything I cannot.”

  Mistystar glared at her old friend. “Actually, I think you have. You have risked the safety of your Clan by not being able to read signs from StarClan or walk with our ancestors at the Moonpool. I’m sorry, Mothwing, but you can no longer consider yourself a medicine cat.”

  Chapter 5

  Mothwing flinched as if Mistystar had struck her. “I have served my Clan for many seasons,” she argued. “I have guarded the health of every cat as if they were a kit of my own. Leopardstar trusted me.”

  “Leopardstar didn’t know the truth!” Mistystar snapped. “Did she?”

  Mothwing shook her head. “No,” she admitted. Her eyes clouded with sadness. “What do you want me to do now?”

  Mistystar twitched the tip of her tail. “I don’t know. Restock your supplies with Willowshine, and let me figure something out. We don’t want every cat in the Clan learning about this.” She walked away, feeling her stomach churn. Had she really just dismissed her medicine cat? Oh, StarClan, why didn’t you tell me the truth when you had the chance?

  Rapid paw steps sounded, and Mallownose appeared at the head of his hunting patrol. He was carrying a tiny minnow in his mouth, which he dropped in the space where the fresh-kill pile should be. Robinwing, Petalfur, and Minnowtail placed similar-sized prey beside the miniscule fish. Minnowtail’s apprentice, Mossypaw, was covered in stinking green weed but had nothing to contribute that could be eaten.

  Mistystar stared at the pile in dismay. “Is that it?” she gasped. “That won’t feed Duskfur’s kits, let alone the rest of us!”

  “I’m sorry,” meowed Mallownose. “The water may have come back, but the fish haven’t. The lake is empty.”

  “Apart from weeds,” Mossypaw put in crossly, trying to pull the slimy fronds off her ears.

  “I warned you that rock was slippery,” sighed Minnowtail.

  Mistystar felt a wave of panic rise in her chest. “We’ll have to look elsewhere for prey, then. Start hunting away from the lake for different kinds of prey.”

  Mossypaw made a face. “Yuck! Who wants to eat fur and whiskers?”

  Mallownose flicked her with his tail. “Any cat who doesn’t want to starve,” he growled.

  “StarClan must really hate us if they won’t bring the fish back,” Mossypaw muttered.

  Mistystar bristled. There is no way StarClan would punish us for letting Mothwing be our medicine cat, is there? No, of course not. She has been our medicine cat since before we came to the lake; why would StarClan turn against us now? And yet if they sent us a sign guiding us to a better source of prey, who would see it?

  The bushes at the entrance quivered, and Reedwhisker pushed his way through. “Blackstar says he is sorry to hear that Leopardstar has lost her last life, and looks forward to greeting you at the next Gathering,” he announced to Mistystar. His gaze fell on the puny pile of minnows. “Great StarClan! Did everyone eat already?”

  “No,” meowed Mistystar. “We were just discussing finding other places to hunt until the fish return to the lake.”

  Reedwhisker nodded. “I can take a patrol into the marshes now if you like. And Mintfur?” He called to the pale gray tom who was washing himself on the far side of the clearing. “Why don’t you take the apprentices upstream to see what you can find in the reeds beyond the border?”

  For a moment Mistystar was taken aback by Reedwhisker’s brisk string of commands; then she remembered that he was the deputy now, and it was his duty to organize patrols. “Right, thanks, Reedwhisker,” she mewed. “I’ll come with you, if that’s okay?”

  Reedwhisker looked surprised. “Of course it is. Icewing, Pebblefoot, will you join us?” The two warriors had just returned from a border patrol, but they nodded and trotted over. Mistystar fell in behind them as they filed out of the camp. She felt Mothwing watching her from the entrance to the medicine cats’ den, but she didn’t turn around. It was too painful to look into her old friend’s eyes and know that she had been keeping a secret that threatened the whole Clan.

  There was a strong wind blowing across the marshes, scented with rain. Mistystar’s fur stood on end as she trekked across the sodden ground, leaping from tussock to tussock of spiny grass. The lake beckoned invitingly, sending waves fluttering over the stony shore. But Mistystar reminded herself that the water was empty, that the end of the drought had not brought an end to RiverClan’s hunger. Oh, StarClan, did Rippletail die in vain?

  Suddenly Icewing let out a hiss and stiffened as a vole crept out of a clump of grass. The white cat pounced a fraction too late, and the vole shot away. Icewing stumbled over a muddy rut, and for a moment it looked as if the vole was safe. Then Mistystar realized it was heading toward her, so she leaped forward, blocking the vole’s path with her front paws, and thrust her head down so that it practically ran into her jaws. One sharp, frantic bite and the creature lay dead at her feet.

  “Good catch!” called Reedwhisker.

  Mistystar looked at Icewing, who had stumbled to a halt beside her, panting. “We did it together,” she meowed. Icewing nodded, too breathless to speak.

  Up ahead, Pebblefoot was crouching at the foot of a wind-warped pine tree. “I can see a squirrel,” he yowled over his shoulder.

  “Don’t climb up after it!” Mistystar warned. RiverClan cats most definitely did not belong in trees. “Wait until it comes down!”

  Pebblefoot scraped his claws impatiently down the trunk. There was a brief gray blur, and the squirrel dropped down from one of the lower branches and set off across the marsh, its fluffy tail bobbing behind it. Pebblefoot tore after it, sending scraps of grass and mud flying up from his hind paws. With a start, Mistystar realized he was running too fast to see where he was.

  “Stop, Pebblefoot!” she screeched. “You’re too close to the border!”

  Reedwhisker bounded after his Clanmate, but the squirrel leaped the final tussock of marsh grass onto the smooth, cropped surface of WindClan’s territory and took off up the slope. Pebblefoot raced after it, straight into a patrol of shocked-looking WindClan cats who had just appeared around the side of the hill. A brown warrior named Antpelt sprang forward to block his path.

  “Trespasser! Prey thief!” he screeched.

  Chapter 6

  “He’s not stealing prey!” Mistystar yowled, pounding past the scent markers and skidding to a halt beside her startled Clanmate.

  “I’m sorry,” Pebblefoot puffed. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  Antpelt’s hackles rose. “Oh, I think you knew exactly where you were going,” he sneered. “Onto territory with better prey than yours!” His eyes raked over the RiverClan warriors, and Mistystar winced as she saw their scrawny frames through an outsider’s eyes. It was painfully obvious that the RiverClan cats hadn’t had a proper meal in moons.

  Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy, stepped forward. “Mistystar, I heard about Leopardstar’s death, and I am truly sorry. But what are you doing, letting your warriors stray onto our territory? Did you forget to replace your border markers?”

  Her tone was gentle, but Mistystar heard reproach beneath it. What kind of leader allowed her own patrol to cross a boundary? “I’m sorry, Ashfoot,” she meowed, struggling to keep her fur flat. “It was a genuine mistake. Pebblefoot just got carried away chasing that squirrel.”

  �
�Well, it’s ours now,” Antpelt put in. “So you can remove your mangy pelts from our territory before we make you.” He raised one front paw and let his claws slide out. Pebblefoot glared at him, with the fur rising along his spine.

  “Antpelt, enough!” ordered Ashfoot. “Mistystar, take your cats home. I suggest you renew the border markers to remind your warriors to hunt inside their own territory in future.”

  Feeling her pelt burn with shame, Mistystar dipped her head. “Yes, Ashfoot. May StarClan light your path.”

  “And yours,” Ashfoot mewed briefly before summoning her warriors with a sweep of her tail. “Antpelt, put your claws away. Come on, back to camp.”

  The WindClan cats raced away over the turf, their bellies low enough to brush the grass. Mistystar led her Clanmates back to the border and didn’t stop until they were well past the markers—which were plenty strong enough. Pebblefoot was still bristling.

  “Antpelt treated us like mangy rats,” he fumed. “And how dare Ashfoot tell you to renew the border markers? You’re a leader! She’s only a deputy!”

  Mistystar sighed. “She was just making a point, Pebblefoot. You did cross the boundary, after all. Let’s see if we can catch something that doesn’t run into a different Clan, okay?”

  She watched her warriors spread out across the marsh, lifting their paws high to avoid tripping over the tussocks, and flattening their ears as they tried to pick up the scent of prey. We train to catch fish, not mice and voles, she thought. We’re as hopeless as kits on dry land. Oh, StarClan, why are you letting us starve?

  Three sunrises later, with the fresh-kill pile still pitifully small, Mistystar spotted the faint outline of a half-moon floating between the clouds. That night the medicine cats from all four Clans would gather at the Moonpool to share tongues with StarClan. Mistystar cast her mind back to previous half-moons, realizing that she could hardly remember one when Mothwing hadn’t sent Willowshine in her place on the excuse that a sick or kit-heavy cat needed her to stay in the Clan. How had Leopardstar not realized that Mothwing was neglecting so many of her responsibilities?