Erin Hunter - Mistystar’s Omen

Mothwing followed, and they picked their way down to the edge of the lake to walk along the shore, which lay outside WindClan territory. As they neared the border with RiverClan, a WindClan patrol spotted them and raced up, bristling, but their fur flattened when Mistystar told them about Leopardstar’s death, and the warriors offered sympathy and congratulations to Mistystar on receiving her nine lives. They promised to tell Onestar as soon as they returned to their camp.

Mistystar realized that she should let Blackstar of ShadowClan know as well, but by the time she reached the RiverClan camp her paws were too weary to walk another step. She wanted to be at full strength when she first met Blackstar as his equal, another Clan leader with the power to challenge him if one of his warriors so much as placed a whisker over their shared border. There was too much history between Mistystar and the ShadowClan leader—the memory of him killing Stonefur was too sharp—for her ever to contemplate an alliance with his Clan.

Reedwhisker met her as she limped toward her den. “Did you meet with our ancestors? Do you have your nine lives?”

Mistystar nodded. “Yes, I do.” She forced herself to lift her head higher. “With StarClan’s blessing, I will lead this Clan until the last breath of my last life.”

“Hurrah! Mistystar!” Her Clanmates cheered, but Mistystar noticed Mothwing standing at the edge of the clearing, her gaze troubled.

“Mothwing said you’d seen Firestar and a WindClan patrol,” Reedwhisker meowed. “Would you like me to take the news to Blackstar?”

Mistystar blinked gratefully at her deputy. “Thank you,” she mewed. “Make sure you return before it gets dark.”

Reedwhisker dipped his head and raced off. Mistystar watched him dive into the bushes on the far side of the clearing. She wondered if his littermates were watching from StarClan. She would have to tell Reedwhisker that one of her lives came from his brother Perchkit.

“Mistystar?” Dapplenose was standing a little way off. “We’re going to bury Leopardstar now. Would you like to join us?”

“Of course,” Mistystar meowed. She stretched her legs to ease some of the stiffness. Sleep could come later.

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.