𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑨 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒕 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄

Prologue

You don't drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there...

━─┉┈┈◈❖◈┈┈┉─━

Scorchflame possessed a manner so ethereal that most believed she was a gift from StarClan themselves. Her finesse and elegance promised her only the the best of the best, so it was no surprise when the deputy asked her to become his mate.

Waspsting was not one for sympathy however, he never pitied anyone, his ambitions driving him to become the most apathetic, emotionless cat of the four clans.

The night was whispering, singing its lonely song through the trees and into the heart of MistClan's camp, a secluded, dark crater in the ground.

Waspsting couldn't have been more pleased, at last, his mate was ready to gift him an heir. An heir that would surely succeed him and continue on his bloodline. However he was clearly oblivious to whatever was happening inside.

Inside the den, the atmosphere was sombre, the wind singing its song, a death song that no one could notice.

The stars were diamonds studded into the sky. The moon a beautiful crescent, softly illuminating the land below. If only he knew, if only he knew.

"Waspsting? I-I'm sorry, Scorchflame didn't pull through nor did her last kit..." a half-blind tom greeted him, blue eyes radiating with grief.

"Oh, that's very sad to hear...is there a tom though?" he asked, his apathy masked behind a face of fake sorrow. Sorrow was not needed for it was an emotion only shown by the weak. He was never weak.

Waspsting saw the medicine cat drop his head in shame, life vanished from his white body, before leading the deputy into the dark den.

Once Waspsting's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he saw three kits, lying in age order, the eldest tom, though not in appearance, a spitting image of his father, on the left, and the youngest, a small calico she-cat, lying in a row, mewing pitifully for their mother, whom would never move again. Little crimson puddles embellished the kits' fur but he paid no attention to it before picking up the tom and mildly kicking his former mate's limp body to he side. As he placed the tom between his two front paws, he licked his muzzle before declaring,

"Shadekit for the tom. Silentkit for the silver she-cat and Maplekit for the calico. They will become the best warriors that MistClan has ever known."

His gaze swept around the dark den before they fell on a small golden bundle, nearly entirely covered with a layer of scarlet, and the shattered body of Scorchflame, her eyes closed, her body relaxed in a peaceful manner, as if she was just resting.

Maybe she was resting...but would never open her eyes again.