Across the far stretch of water that divided the five Clans, there lay the wet territory of RiverClan. A well protected camp, surrounded by water that only its well-fed residents can penetrate, was the home and shelter that the RiverClan cats lived in.
On the island, four dens made out of bushes faced each other. A tall willow tree stood alone, its roots weaving into a natural den. Outside, a large boulder stood at the edge of camp, a natural dip surrounding it. Warriors strolled to and fro, apprentices practicing battle moves, and kits rolled around, getting under everybody's paws.
Nobody noticed as a small pale-gray-and-white she-cat, the size of an apprentice, emerged from her den, holding a neat roll of herbs and leaves, and obediently trotted to the mossy medicine den, where her mentor was waiting impatiently for her.
"Hurry up," the dusty brown cat snapped. "We haven't got all day. Molepaw has gone down with a nasty bout of whitecough, and Leaptbank's been sharing fresh-kill with him."
Frostpaw dipped her head respectfully and carried on with her sorting of herbs.
"What did I say to you?" her mentor, Volepond snarled at her warningly. Then suddenly, she raised her paw and brought it down to Frostpaw's face. She wasn't fast enough to avoid Volepond's stinging slap.
Fighting back the urge to snap at her mentor, she repeated dully, "Molepaw has whitecough, and Leaptbank's been sharing fresh-kill with him."
"Right," Volepond brought her face close to Frostpaw's and spat in her face,"So why are you still here?"
Glaring at Volepond, Frostpaw silently picked up her herbs and padded towards the apprentice's den to treat Molepaw.
Glancing at the camp, she didn't see her father, Crowstorm, who she could seek assurance from him about Volepond. Again. He had advised her to stay calm and collected, and to resist the urge to snap at every cat inside, even if she did not have a trace of respect for her mentor, who was her awful mother's littermate. Volepond and her mother -- or Sandstream -- had never been kind to her, or even acknowledged her when she was not learning. Even when she was learning, they had shouted at her, about how useless and slow-brained she was, and how she wasn't deserved to be a medicine cat apprentice, and more worse things. They had treated her like she was nothing but the small, unseen ant that was crawling at the back of the medicine den, and had refused to see reason from her or her father, Crowstorm, when either of them wounded Frostpaw.
Unfortunately--or fortunately, in Frostpaw's case--Sandstream died recently during a battle with WindClan, and though Frostpaw would never admit it to anyone, she secretly hoped Sandstream had a slow, terrible and painful death, at the paws of her WindClan enemy. Unsurprisingly, Volepond's temper had only gotten worse, and she treated Frostpaw as terribly as ever.
Sometimes, she wondered how Crowstorm and Sandstream even loved each other. She'd heard stories and seen all the other cats living their wonderful, peaceful love life, never having to worry about their mate insulting or hurting them and their kits, or having their mate's terrible sister to mentor their kits...
As she padded inside the apprentice's den, Molepaw merely eyed her for a few heartbeats, then hastily looked away. She couldn't blame him. Volepond, despite her bad temper and cruel personality, was a respected medicine cat in the Clan. Not that anyone had a choice. Every cat in RiverClan had known about Frostpaw and Sandstream and Volepond, but nobody dared to challenge the medicine cat, or criticize Volepond.
"Volepond says you need to go to the medicine den. She says you have whitecough," Frostpaw informed him, keeping a blank face.
She could have sworn Molepaw made the tiniest groan in the world, but he padded out anyways.
"Frostpaw, wait," Beechpaw, who was sitting silently beside Molepaw, stopped her. Frostpaw turned to him, gesturing for him to continue.
"Froststar wants to see you," he said.
"But- I need to isolate-"
"Go, now, Froststar has other important things to do, and she cannot waste time," Beechpaw cut her off.
Frostpaw bit her lip as she padded out of the den. Disobeying Volepond was likely to earn her a double beating. But disobeying a Clan leader... that was out of the world. After all, Volepond was no better than a piece of fox dung, wasn't she?
Before she realized what she just thought, she was already inside the leader's den, with her father, Crowstorm, at her side. This can't be good, she thought.
Together, they waited for Froststar to emerge. A minute passed. Two minutes passed. Three. Then Froststar padded in, her fur sleek, looking everything like a Clan leader ought to be. She was flanked by two apprentices, who reeked of other Clans.
As if sensing the foreigness, the apprentices looked around them warily as they followed Froststar. Crowstorm rose, his hackles lifting and fur bristling. Frostpaw did not. She looked at the apprentices calmly, because she knew them.
Their names were Nightpaw and Skypaw.
They looked exactly like when Frostpaw met them in StarClan.
Nightpaw, her smooth blue-black fur glistening under the moonlight. Her deep-blue eyes, as blue as the lake, blinked at Frostpaw warmly. No doubt, she was the oldest apprentice in this den. Skypaw, the complete opposite, his ruffled, messy snow-white fur was barely visible, his pelt turned gray at night. His name definitely reflected his personality and appearance. His dancing sky-blue eyes, showing his unbreakable torrent of joy and sharing his positive spirit, and his arrogance, yet now his eyes were fixed on Frostpaw, his intentions unreadable.
"Evening, Frostpaw and Crowstorm, I apologize for my lateness."
"Take your time. I see that you have brought friends," Crowstorm observed.
"These are neither friends, nor enemy. They have come with a request."
"I wonder how important that request is for us to listen to them and accept it," Crowstorm had an edge to his meow.
"Crowstorm," Frostpaw said quietly.
"Froststar, you know how likely it is for other Clans to trick us into bloodshed. We don't want that," Crowstorm carried on, unaware of Frostpaw, who was now trying to get his attention.
"Crowstorm," Frostpaw said louder.
"Be quiet, Frostpaw. These matters are not for you to discuss."
"Yes they are," the words were out of Frostpaw's mouth before she could stop herself. "If you want to question the Clan leader, do it when she has time. This is a more important matter than you've ever imagined. You have no idea what I go through each night. Did you notice I tend to be more tired in the morning than night? Because every night, I have to visit StarClan, because of that prophecy. I have no choice, like when Sandstream and Volepond beat me into oblivion, and you did nothing. All of you, nothing."
Frostpaw drew in a deep breath. Then she flattened her ears and closed her eyes as she realized what she just said. But her temper that she had to leash, was now gone. The roaring flame inside her chest now dimmed to barely more than the tiniest spark, and when she breathed out and opened her eyes, none of the cats were standing poised to strike.
Nightpaw and Skypaw both had their eyes wide, mouth gaping. Frostpaw could have laughed at their dumbfounded expression if not for the situation.
"A-prophecy?" Crowstorm's meow cracked.
"Indeed," Froststar's reply was neither cold, nor warm. Somewhere in the middle. She faced the two waiting apprentices as a beam of moonlight shone into the leader's den.
"Now, Nightpaw and Skypaw, I believe you have something to tell us?"
YOU ARE READING
The Endless Prophecy - Night
Fanfiction"There will be three, kin of your kin, who holds the power of stars in their paws... This is how it has always been, and how it will always be." All those famous warriors of the past... from Firestar to Nightstar (Nightheart), from Dovewing to Sunbe...
